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I'm Gonna Get You, Little Fishie....


Date:  February 23, 2001
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Skyspace; Taralyth and Nioth's Ledge; Inner
Weyr
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  This entire log is *all Divya's fault*.  Really!  Well,
maybe not *all* Divya's fault.  It's partially Katlynn's fault.  And 
J'han's fault.  And maybe Yenne's fault, just a twitch.  And one can't
leave Kerwin out of the blame.  But I am *innocent*, innocent I tell 
you!

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The Log:

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth extends a small wisp of thought,
airy, crystalline; hopefully subtle enough to avoid interrupting any other
communications. Knock, knock. Anyone home?

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth's mostly a-drowse, mind dark behind
diamondine shields - but at this he greets, even as he lifts all but
first-lids to peer out at the sleet, << Hmm? ...Lysseth. >>

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth, for once, drowses not. Facets,
turrets, and spires are all clear, glowing faintly with color--dimmed,
though, in respect for his somnolence. << My rider wishes to bring the
strange young man who does not do illicit things with cheese, >> and
Kerwin's features flash through in brief identification, << to bring food
to yours. >> They have a basket of goodies for you, Grandma.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth's not his rider to be suspicious - and
is drowsy besides, mirroring those faint hues lightly, lightly; << He will
like that, >> the young dragon decides, with the impression that Taralyth
-himself- will like not having to go out into the cold and, worse, wet. <<
Your rider is very ... thoughtful. >>

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth takes on a minor key at reminder of
the wet. Yes, thoughtful, when it entails making her go out in the horrific
*sleet*-- << She tries, >> glints the wry thought. << We come. >> The warm
brush of gratitude follows, broken off as wingbeats flurry.

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down with
a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

You spring from Lysseth's ledge with one downsweep of your wings, soaring
into the sky above the Northern Bowl.

<*> Lysseth springs from her lofty perch; circles once, and finds her
landing target. Hastily. She doesn't *like* sleet.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth, with that - lets it be known he
waits; and, since it's Lysseth, will remain awake at least till she lands.
He envisions the overhang, also, large enough for a pair of bronzes and
currently untenanted by more than his head; perhaps that will serve.

You land on one of the higher ledges.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth glows appreciation of the sentiment,
and--O, fortune! That overhang, better yet. If he's sure he wouldn't mind
sharing the space....

<*> Lysseth clicks down, immediately huddling in on herself as though this
will somehow help her avoid the freezing rain. Not, perhaps, logical, given
her size no matter how she huddles, but one does what one can. Nor does she
forget to rumble quiet greetings. "We'd best get on inside swiftly," Kassi
suggests, freeing herself from bondage, which is to say straps. "A'fore the
goodies get soaked--need any help, Kerry?"

<*> Out on the ledge, that dark muzzle even lifts from its paw - just one
paw, not both, daring the cold - to nose amiable greetings towards his
visitor... and her rider and passengers, even. Lucky Kassima. Lucky Kerwin.
At least said nose isn't cold and wet.

Kerwin is perched behind Kassima, basket in arms. His current interest is
in keeping well out of the horrors of wind and sleet, and so he's hunched
in low. Not that this does a lot of good, to be honest, he's still
decidedly on the oversized side. The cold's forgotten a moment however on
arrival, as he gives the weyr a wary look. He shakes his head then briefly,
unclipping himself from the straps as well. "I think I have it, Sane Aunt
Kassi, and avoiding a soaking is a good thing. We wouldn't want him to be
angry, that would be bad." Cower, cower.

Kassima offers a brief rub to that passing muzzle, Lysseth extending her
neck to return the favor in a more draconic fashion--and fluttering her
wings a bit impatiently. "All right, Lyss, all right. We're going! Your
rider knows we're coming, Taralyth?" In an aside as she slides down, "Oh,
y'never know. Is turns the neatest colors when he's angry."

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Kerwin climbs down from Lysseth's neckridges with the help of her riding
straps, looking grateful to be back on the ground. Lysseth eyes Kerwin for
a moment, rumbling quietly, before turning her attention elsewhere.

Kerwin slides down after Kassima, landing gingerly. This isn't something
he's had a great deal of practice at, no, but gravity is on his side.
"Colors," he echoes, sounding faintly alarmed. "That sounds...well,
festive?" And yes, he makes a question of that, as if not certain quite
-what- to think.

Taralyth spins those blue eyes somewhat more swiftly, headknobs perked,
though muzzle doesn't quite - _quite_ - leave paw; they're not going to get
him wet, are they? he mentally asks of Lysseth. And if not, why, come in;
no spider, he.

"*Very* festive," Kassi cheerily confirms. "Red and scarlet and vermilion
and... well, you're probably getting the idea, I'm thinking. Don't worry,
though. I've only seen him angry a few times." Which, given that this is
Kassi, Annoyer of Bronzeriders, may indeed be saying something. "After
you?" she suggests with a gesture towards the weyr entrance. Pass the
bronze and collect two-hundred marks. And Lyss, cajoled into keeping an
outstretched wing over the humans to protect them from sleet, can only give
Taralyth a wry and somewhat pitiful look. They're too busy getting *her*
wet. Oh, woe.

Kerwin isn't -quite- suicidal enough to fling his damp self at the bronze
to get the guy wet in return. But well, it's an image. Kassima is given a
rather worried look, ink-dark brows arching up in near-alarm as he glances
from her to the entrance, and back again. A long breath is taken, and he
nods, "Um, okay Aunt Kassi." Is the sane left off on purpose? Naaah. "Um,
uh...yeah. Going inside....right." Have we mentioned he's terrified of
I'sai? There's another of those deep breaths however, and he pads inside.

Kerwin disappears into the tunnel towards the weyr.

Abandon sanity, all he who enter here? Kassi chortles wickedly as she
follows in Kerwin's wake. This cannot be a good sign.

The twisting tunnel soon leads to the weyr.

Lysseth> -Taralyth- isn't terrified of his rider; he eyes Kerwin's passing
the threshold - well, well, _well_ - and then second-lids. Plenty of room
for Lysseth; and yes, it's all right if she drips on his floor.

Entering the weyr at least cuts off the wind, but the unlit cavern arches
darkly, hollowly above them, smelling somewhat of dragon, of -dragons- and
a hint of firestone. At least, in the distance, glows that small
antechamber made identifiable more by its desk and chairs, its carpet of
woodshavings, than any wall. There someone may dimly be seen working -
slothing - lazily whetting his knife while a pile of straps sprawls on the
floor nearby; further yet, a curtain's pulled across the entrance to more
private quarters.

Kassima skulks in. Well, no. Nothing so obviously sinister, nor anything
involving looming, since to try and loom next to Kerwin would be ludicrous
indeed; she does, however, keep her footsteps quiet to respect the weyr's
acoustics. "Heyla in there?" she yells. Echoingly. So much for respect. She
drops her voice to murmur, "See, Kerry? All perfectly normal, and nay
anyone is charging us in a rage. Yet."

Basket still in arms, Kerwin pauses a beat just inside the weyr's entrance,
but once past that heartbeat's hesitation, he continues his way inward.
Not, however, without a quick glance to make sure Kassima's right there.
It's not quite apparent if he expects her to protect him, or if he expects
to have to haul her out of here for her own safety. "Yet," he echoes,
sounding faintly bemused if still nervous. "Aunt Kassi, that is not even
-remotely- a reassuring word, just for the record."

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon," replies I'sai's light tenor, as the man sits up,
pushing back his sleeves. "What're we having?" As they walk past Taralyth's
lean, wings-furled sprawl, from the weyr's shadows emerge details not only
of him but also of more permanent surroundings, such as the hooks on the
inner walls that support not only straps but coats, three helmets,
oil-rags, and the like. The oil vat itself stands nearby, coagulated in a
thin film over the top due to the air that's cool if not nearly so cold as
outside; as they approach the antechamber it becomes warmer, thanks to a
small stove between desk and curtain whose exhaust pipe disappears into the
shadows of the ceiling.

"Would 'nay anyone is charging us in a rage already' work better?" Kassi
asks. She's trying, really, she is. Unfortunately, she's also visibly
amused. "I really don't know what you're afraid of, Kerry." She is kind and
doesn't suggest that he can hide behind her, since, after all, that
wouldn't quite work. Instead she paces further into the Cavern, pausing
here and there to get a peek at some interesting surrounding. Quite like
she's never been in here before. "You have a stove," she approves to the
bronzerider. "I envy you. Spice cookies, I'm thinking 'tis? Or is it spice
bread? Come on over, Kerry; he won't eat you."

Kerwin has to consider Kassima's question for a moment. He's not a quick
thinker, no. Kinder sorts might call him, in fact, 'a little slow'. "Um,
no," he decides at last. "Not much." Taller than Kassima certainly, he
simply keeps to her side, heading into the warmer area of the cavern.
"Spice cookies," he agrees as he takes those last couple steps to catch up.
"The spice bread didn't make it out of the kitchens, I'm afraid. Apparently
it's a lot more popular in weather as nasty as this."

Lots of little niches around the antechamber, too, holding carvings of this
and that and the other thing, ranging from a bull with horns spiked up, to
a far-too-cute firelizard, to boxes and rattles and other such things.
"Oh," says Is, controlling a disappointed note. "Sweet... well, maybe it's
not too sweet. And thanks; usually the dragons, between them, keep the
place warm, but it's convenient. "Pull yourselves chairs if you want, I
guess? Sit down. Food. That's pretty something. Forgot I'd missed mid-meal."

Kassima drawls, finding a convenient bit of wall to lean against, "Really,
Is, you'd think there were something *wrong* with sweets. Don't mind if'n I
do--" And she does indeed find a chair for herself, though not before
taking a couple of peeks at various carvings in the antechamber. "Myk does
good work, doesn't he? I'm nay surprised the spicebread went. Lovely stuff.
Nay as good as lemon bread, though." To demonstrate virtue, she refrains
from drooling at the very thought and instead asks, "So how've things been,
I'sai? Pretty much as usual?"

"It's kind of like gingerbread," Kerwin attempts to explain, sounding,
well, daunted. That's because he -is- daunted. Mysterious dark caverns,
sleet, it's a very daunting sort of day. Can he abuse the word daunted some
more? After another of those pauses that are required for him to think of
anything remotely useful to say, he adds, "Eating's a helpful thing, or the
aunties start to get aggrieved, and make snide comments." There's a pause,
and he nods then hesitantly, before taking a seat as well, glancing about
for a good place to put the basket. He tugs the cover off as he does so,
and lo, there are yes spice cookies, and they're still warm. Think crunchy
gingerbread, here. "Lemon bread's wonderful, especially in the summer."

"He does, and... and Nioth says he's sorry to've missed you, and will we
save him a cookie or two," I'sai relates after a moment's decreased focus.
"And pretty much, yeah. Drilled over by the smithcraft where the weather's
just that little bit better, just that much more likely to have the Thread
survive..." He leans over the table, eyeing that basket of Kerwin's.
"Preserved, yeah, it's just not the same. And only so much we can steal
from Southern."

Desolate, yet all undaunted--well, undaunted anyway--Kassi just grins.
"Aunties make snide comments regardless, I've found. 'Don't you dare keep
that towel around your hair! You'll catch your death of cold!' And, 'You
leave that nice young boy alone!' And, 'Don't you bring that Emasculator in
*my* kitchen!' Nay sense of humor in any of 'em... ooh." The scents from
the magical Land of Spices have infiltrated her nose; she leans in. "Would
you mind terribly if'n I filched one, Is? Regards right back to him,
naturally. And I guess that means naught weird's happened t'you today."

Kerwin sets said basket down, nudging it a bit more into the open so that
the cookies are out there, exposed. They'd cower in fear from impending
eating, but well, they're cookies. "Yes, sir, exactly. When the lemons are
fresh...well, I like it better that way at least. I have known other people
who didn't quite agree." Kassima is given a wide-eyed look of faint alarm,
"Emasculator?" There's a new word for him, like as not. "Aunties do
though," he tries a little more softly, "Do seem to object to a very large
number of things. I think perhaps they have meetings, and decide on more
things to find objectionable, as the list of crimes seems to change
periodically."

"No-o..." I'sai says. Slowly. Dim the cavern may be, but in this one little
area, the lights are -on-. ...Well, all right, there might be a flicker or
two. "Only the weather." So far. "Yes. Have a cookie. Those, I don't mind
sharing." He even reaches for one himself, though it's become something of
a tentative gesture. "Aunties and headwomen - unless headwomen already
qualify as aunties?"

Kassima opines as she wriggles fingers, darts them forward, snags a cookie,
"I can't imagine preserved lemons being very good. Gwennar at Ruatha makes
Pern's best, and Headwomen count, and an Emasculator--" Suspense builds as
she breaks here to munch a bite from the cookie. No doubt it is silently
screaming its agony. "An Emasculator," the woman begins again once she's
swallowed, "is a castration device. Y'know. Snip, snip. I don't see why
aunties object to that, since they're all women, but you may be right about
the meetings." More munchings ensue. "The weather's brutal. Taralyth has
Lyss's eternal gratitude for the shelter... so that's all, is it? Just the
weather?"

The cookies are not, for the record, poisoned or anything - Keara's
comments aside. Kerwin shifts a bit in his chair, trying to look undaunted
and sit properly upright rather than cowering. People his size really ought
not cower, and he's trying. "Headwomen, yessir, would count I'd think. As
griping, I mean, not as being aunties. Well, not all the time." The cookie
screams farewell to its wife and children, yes, just in the silent language
of cookies. Kerwin regards Kassima with his now all but patented, 'Are you
perhaps drunk?' look of confused horror. He has to ask though, albeit
slowly. "Why, um, may I ask, sane Aunt Kassi, did you need a castration
device in the kitchen?"

I'sai loses a crumb or two into his lap as slowly, noisily, he scrapes his
chair back. Maybe he's waiting to see if Kerwin, too, will eat from the
supposedly-not-Poisoned Fruit. Well, spice. "Just the weather," he says.
"Why. Nothing's up with M'rgan again, is there?" - "Maybe you shouldn't
answer that question, Kassima. Here, anyway."

Alas, poor cookie, what an infinite jest! The last crumbs disappear into
the land beyond Kassi's teeth, and how's that for a mental image, with a
few last quiet chews. "I'm nay drunk," she patiently informs Kerwin. "And I
didn't, really, I just happened t'have it on me at the time... and 'twas
proddy, or 'twouldn't have tried t'get into the kitchen anyway." Ah-hah,
the miracle excuse. Just say the magic word 'proddy' and all turns out
right. Right? "Nay particular reason," she assures I'sai with such
guilelessness that said guilelessness becomes guile. "Just curious. I've
heard that Mart might be plotting t'start spiking your food with some sort
of anti-virility drugs, but there aren't any in these cookies, I don't
think." She does squint a look at Kerwin. "Eat a cookie, Kerry, then tell
us if'n you still feel virile, and that should settle things."

"Do you feel virile to begin with?" I'sai somehow finds himself asking,
after a slanted look at Lysseth's rider's wardrobe.

The Spice must flow! Mua'dib Kerwin is not, however, though he does lean
forward to carefully snag a cookie as well. He peers in faint confusion
from I'sai, to Kassima, and back again. "The weather's particularly evil,"
he decides after another of those all but gear-grinding pauses to think. He
ohhs then softly to Kassima, as if that explains it all. "Proddy, ohhhh,
okay, that's all right then." He's not Augustus' wife Livia either, as he
takes a bite of said cookie in all apparent faith. Of course, this can
hardly be heartening, since Kerwin also has complete unshakeable faith in
the idea that Kassima is sane. He's a cocker spaniel. He obeys, it's in his
nature. Of course, -after- he obeys, he has to blink at the actual
instruction, "-Virile-?" It's not -quite- a squeak, but it's close. I'sai
gets a look of utter horror. "Um, not especially, sir."

Kassima is not sporting all-black clothing. This is, perhaps, important to
note. "Kerry," she wheedles, "you're your mother's son. Surely you must
feel virile sometimes. Like, oh... I don't know; Is, tell him what virility
feels like?" Poor Kerwin. Poor, poor Kerwin.

"Do you feel any different than you did before?" Is'd begun to ask - but
now he eyes Kassima. And since she started it - "You said it feels good,"
he asserts, even if it hadn't been in, er, so many _words_.

Pern does not, -technically-, have Hell. This however, must be terribly
close. Kerwin's ink-dark brows are arched up over horrified hazel eyes.
"Um, Sane Aunt Kassi, I may be my mother's son, but I think she missed the
portion of my education where I was taught to randomly feel virile. I'm
sure she'd be horrified to realize this." He shakes his head at I'sai,
answering honestly, "Unless virility is a lot like sheer terror, nossir, I
don't especially."

I'sai makes a show of a, "Hmm. Now that you mention it - "

It's oddly fitting that Kassi should have an opportunity to turn red after
all her cheerful glorification in that shade earlier. But she rallies: "How
would I know what it feels like t'be virile, Is? Do I look like a man
t'you? Much less a manly man, sire of a thousand and one spawn--" Welcome,
Kerwin, to D'nte's Inferno. "It has something t'do," Kassi opines to
Kerwin, ever-helpful, "with the cheese sex song... wait, wait, virility is
*terrifying*?"

"-J'lyn- thought so," and I'sai lets that hang before adding, "...But I
don't. Even if you do still have more children than I do."

Kerwin just looks even more terrified, hunching back down again at I'sai's
comment. And he can't even -flee-, that's the worse part, as he hasn't
exactly had 'Advanced Rock Climbing 101' to allow him to escape. "A
thousand and -one-?" He's also very literal, yes. He also has to add, "If
it has something to do with the cheese sex song, it is terrifying, yes'm."

Kassima's expression turns into one of disaste. "Aye, well. Nay accounting
for taste... and *thank* you, for that, though I might note 'twill nay be
true for long. Kerry, calm down, has anyone tried t'hit you yet?" She
excels at reassurance. She really does. "And really, 'tis only--six, I'm
thinking? That I know of? Counting the two nay born, but there'll probably
be a thousand and one a'fore he's done, y'see. I still think you should
sing the cheese sex song for him."

I'sai glints a grin at Kassi, then - "Right, six-to-be but not six-now, and
also right, no hitting. No hitting here, especially. There's time for that,
other places, when I just don't want to be involved. And y'know what,
Kerwin? I'd be just as happy if you don't sing that song. In fact, I'd be
happier. Nothing against your singing voice, of course, which I'm sure is
very, uh, good."

"No ma'am, but nobody had asked me before if I was feeling especially
virile, so I suppose there's a first time for everything," Kerwin points
out, with one of those openly honest expressions of his. "And I am -not-
singing the cheese sex song, Sane Aunt Kassi. There is a time and a place
for everything, and admittedly, I still haven't found a time or a place for
that yet. Mother is odd." He nods to I'sai, "Thank you sir, your um,
happiness with this song's lack is decidedly appreciated."

"Please, Kerry, nay ma'aming? You have t'be old t'be ma'amed." Or
respectable, but where family's concerned, Kassi doesn't even bother to
point out that she's not respectable. That's sort of a given. "All right,
though, if'n you're *sure*." Who can resist caving to someone that openly
honest? See, she does have weak spots. Matching I'sai grin for grin, she
points out, "And I only have five, so you'll have beaten me thoroughly.
Would you rather something else be sung? Kerry knows lots of songs, I'd bet
nigh aught." Have we said 'Poor Kerry' yet?

"Until your next one, or two, or three," I'sai says sweetly. "And... if
you'd like to sing, Kerry - er, Kerwin - why, please. Don't let me stop
you. Go right ahead. Sing something about your aunt, maybe something your
mother passed down to you about their childhood."

"B-..." Thankfully, whatever idiot remark Kerry was going to make, he
managed to clamp down on, "Yes, Aunt Kassi. No ma'aming, check." He nods
then, eyes still wide in due solemnity. "I'm sure, yes. Trust me on this
one. Mother would sing it for him though, I'm sure." He adds quickly, "I
know a lot of songs, but I learned them from -mother-, Sane Aunt Kassi, so
they are all suitably terrifying. And I do not want to die today." So what,
tomorrow's fine? He adds quietly, "Most people call me Kerry. And there
aren't any songs Mother taught me about Sane Aunt Kassi, Sane Aunt Kassi is
the -sane- member of the family."

Sane. I'sai squints. And then, rather than conceptualizing that dead-on, or
at least trying to, he just asks a little weakly, "Do you like being called
'Kerry' better than 'Kerwin'?"

Kassima points out, a bit disturbed, "Kaliawynne wouldn't know any songs
about *me*; the songs she sings are--well, Kerry could tell you." No death
today. Death tomorrow. There's *always* death tomorrow. "See, I'sai?" she
says with that same sweetness, turning to face him with wide, innocent
eyes. "I'm *sane*. Beat that."

All poor I'sai can do is concede. So he hands her his cookie. It's only
lost a -few- crumbs.

Mind, Kerwin does tend to say she's the sane member 'of the family'. Which,
well, is a scary thing to say about the family. "They both work, sir. As
does, 'Hey you, the tall one', most of the time, but that's a little much
to say." He nods as Kassima's affirmation of her sanity, vindicated.

Kassima accepts, graciously. And takes a bite. More silent cookie screams
ensue, but that's the way the cookie crumbles, isn't it? "You haven't eaten
any cookies *yourself*, Is," she must needs point out.

I'sai recovers enough gumption to say, primly, "I'm sharing. With my
guests. And leaving a couple for Myk. But... both may work, Kerry-Kerwin,
but which do you -like-. You do have a preference, don't you? Most people do."

Kerwin takes another bite of his own cookie, probably in a desperate
attempt to cover up the fact that he's having to think. And when he's
thinking, well, that takes time. Smoke isn't quite visible from his ears,
but his brows are lowered with the effort of it. "Kerry, I suppose sir,
that I prefer. People are a lot more likely to use my whole name if I'm in
trouble, so Kerry's less daunting."

"Very gracious of you, I'm sure," Kassi allows around her rather lessened
cookie. "Very gracious, all things considered, but that's another tale
entirely... and either one has a *K*, right, Kerry? That's important."

"What kind of tale?" I'sai dares to ask. In certain movies, he'd be
wandering outside of a dark (but for the occasional flicker), deserted (but
we all know better) building (maybe a hotel, maybe a school, maybe a
cemetery). And, since it's raining outside and all, not to mention the
lightning, he's reaching for the door handle. By way of scraping his feet
off on the mat, as it were, "How about 'Ker'?"

There's a look of concern from Kerwin at 'all things considered'. Maybe he
doesn't like NPR? He does have to ask however, "A K is important, Aunt
Kassi?" He considers I'sai's suggestion a moment, which means yes, more of
that pause-ful thinking, but nods. "That would work as well, sir, certainly."

And Kassi, well, she'd be lurking in the shadows with a dagger most likely.
Cackling madly to herself. Of course. "A very fishy tale," she replies
vaguely and less than helpfully. "Faranth, aye, Kerry! 'Tis the Fortunate
Letter, and family tradition has it that terrible things befall a firstborn
who doesn't carry the K." We did mention that this family was a den of
lunatics, right?

I'sai twitches a little, and with decidedly more suspicion. Still on the
welcome mat aka trap door, "What happens if the firstborn has a K, and the
secondborn doesn't, and the first one dies?"

"Fishy?" Kerwin has to echo, glancing at the cookie he's still holding, as
if to make extra sure the cookies are in fact devoid of anything carp-like.
"Ohhh, the fortunate letter, check, right, sorry Aunt Kassi, I have no idea
how I could have ever forgotten." That wasn't snide, was it? Of -course-
not. Kerwin's not capable of snide, right? "Mother's not always good
with...um...tradition, but she managed that one at least." He hmms
thoughtfully, "They have to change their name? That would be a pain,
wouldn't it?"

"That's all right, then," Kassi decides... though not without some pensive
thought of her own. "But the second, t'be safe, might want t'take a K
*nickname*. Just for security." Yes, that makes perfect sense. "'Wynne's
aught but traditional, as the cheese sex and virile vegetables prove, but
'twere all relieved when she did the right thing by you--why, Is, why on
Pern d'you seem so twitchy?"

"Cheese - and _vegetables_ - but Wynne doesn't have a K," I'sai tries. And
to, for once, be truthful, "She's being sly. Isn't she, Kerwin.
-Insinuating-. Kerry, I mean." Nothing like calling someone else to come
explore the spooky place.

"I'm sure glad I don't have to worry about that," Kerwin decides, polishing
off the last bite of his cookie. "In my case, if anything happens to the
firstborn, names will be the last thing I have to consider." Once more, he
straightens up just a bit. "The vegetables are not -right-. But at least
nobody does that here, it's very nice." He peers from Kassima to I'sai, and
then lifts his shoulders slightly. "I um, don't precisely no sir. She
-seems- innocent to me."

Kassima sounds out, stressing syllables, "*Ka*-li-a-wynne; 'Wynne's a
*nickname*." And who can blame the poor lady for taking one? "I'll let
Kerri explain the cheese and vegetables, but how am I being sly? I'm nay
sly. I'm *innocent*. Innocent as fresh-fallen snow." That's lying on top of
a muck pile. "See? Kerry knows!"

"You have a firstborn? Already?" I'sai blinks at the poor boy. "Shards.
That's fast. And... All right. So it's safe to take a non-K nickname. So
you could be, say. 'Im.' As opposed to 'In,' for 'Innocent." As example.

"Mother likes to make innapropriate shapes out of vegetables. That's how I
got the job in the kitchens back home, because someone had to stop her from
doing it," Kerwin explains with more of that deadpan innocence. Except,
well, he's not faking it. He considers a moment, "Okay, now she seems less
innocent." He shakes his head to I'sai, "Goodness, no sir. I am the
firstborn though, in my family, so if I was to keel over, I'd not be
thinking about my name."

"And how much older were you when Ysaira was born?" Kassi fires back.
Though she does ask, worried, "You *don't*, do you, Kerry? You haven't
knocked some lass here up *already*? Because as much as that might please
your mother, I don't know about the rest of the family, and--hey, I'm
*perfectly* innocent." Riiiight. "Only," she adds, "'twouldn't want t'be
named In, because that seems t'be asking for confusion. Even if'n 'twould
fit. Because I'm innocent. Very innocent. I don't carve any inappropriate
vegetables *either*."

I'sai slits his eyes. "Inappropriate to whom?" he asks. "To Keara? ...well,
all right, don't die then; if for no other reason than to not get your
younger sister or brother or whatever into trouble. Y'know, come to think
of it, 'In' not only stands for 'innocent,' it stands for 'inappropriate.'
Hmm. And besides, I was... I was... How old are you, Ker? I was... she has
what, four Turns and a season and I've three-and-twenty and three seasons
and ..." this is -math-. Wingseconds shouldn't have to do math.

"No, Sane Aunt Kassi," Kerwin reassures, and rather quickly at that. This,
at least, is an easy question. "Trust me, I would have noticed. Mother
would though, yes, be thrilled. She wants grandchildren. I have told her
she will simply have to wait though. She pouted." Pause. "A lot." He nods,
"That's good, Sane Aunt Kassi. Carving innapropriate vegetables is a sign
of -something-." He blinks, "Innapropriate to most people, sir. She likes
to make um...shapes of parts of people they don't usually show people. And
I shall attempt not to die, yessir." He has to consider a moment,
"Seventeen sir, if memory serves."

Kassima kindly supplies, "You were nineteen, Is." She's a Wingleader. She
can do *algebra* and *geometry* if she has to. Everyone may gasp in awe
now. "That's just as well. I can't see Grandsire Keyssin being thrilled
t'be a great-great-grandfather and still living, all things considered;
talk about indicators of *age*... see, Is? He's old enough." Beam. Poor
Kerwin. That phrase seems to be coming up a lot. "But *me*, inappropriate?
Since when have I ever been inappropriate? *I* don't dress in teacups,
or--by the by, Kerry, I've always wondered. Did your father *know* about
this little hobby of hers? With the vegetables?"

It may be old enough, but, "Nineteen is older than seventeen," I'sai
decides. So there. And then shuts up: better vegetables than him - in
conversation. Poor Kerwin.

"Hey would probably throw something," Kerwin decides after another of those
moments of thought. "I do not think they let apprentices breed, Sane Aunt
Kassi, so I am safe." He nods then, "Um, yes'm, he knows. He thinks it's
funny." This is said in such a tone as to indicate he thinks he's father's
cracked. "Yessir, by two turns sir." Oh, thank you Mr. Genius, Speaker of
the Obvious.

Kassima beams at Kerry. See, her relatives can do math *too*. What
wonderful things this says about the family. "That's right--shells, how
could I have forgotten that? You can't start contributing to the line until
you're Journeyrank. The Caverns lasses will be ever so disappointed." Evil.
Have we mentioned that she's evil? "And your father, by the by, is
cracked... see though, Is, if'n you'd started at *seventeen*, I'd have
twelve marks by now."

I'sai dares to ask, "Why twelve marks?" before contributing, "Why don't you
ask Keara, Kerry; she might give you a special dispensation. Since you're a
K and all."

The ability to subtract seventeen from nineteen and get a result of two,
yes, yes, you may all be stunned and awed now. It takes mathematical
-genius- there, really. "Exactly ma'am, I'm safe. And somehow, I don't
think they'll even particularly notice, ma'am. I seem to be reasonably safe
here." There's another of those solemn nods. "Yes, Sane Aunt Kassi, he is.
But he's cheerful about it." I'sai is given an alarmed look, "But sir, I'd
-much- rather be safe, sir."

"That's how many I have on you having eight," Kassi explains, most
sagaciously. "And Kerry, remember the ma'aming? Nay ma'aming! Or I'll tell
Is that you--" Pause. Backtrack. "Or nay. Nevermind. Why d'you want t'be
safe?" This woman is sane?

"That he -what-, and what do you get if I have nine?" I'sai follows up on
cue. To Kerry - as if that'd change his mind - "Safe is safe but safe isn't
interesting."

And like a cocker spaniel that sees the rolled up newspaper being waved at
its nose, Kerwin hunches back down a bit again, "Yes, I'm sorry, I forgot,
Sane Aunt Kassi," he offers. There's a pause, "That I what?" He has to ask,
sounding, well, frankly puzzled. "And I want to be safe, because I do not
quite think I am ready for children yet. They require one to think quickly.
And I might still turn out to be insane, and then I'd -scare- any children
I had, and well, that would be sad."

Kassima sings out, "Never mind, 'twas saying! He didn't do aught. The lad's
innocent, and so am I." Yes. Right. Sure. Really. Truly. "I only get the
same if'n you have nine, unless I make a *new* bet, at which point I'd
probably have t'settle for lower stakes. You need t'stop cowering like
that, Kerry. Have we harmed you 'tall?" In fact, she reaches over to muss
the younger man's hair. There is no mercy in the world. "You didn't do
aught. Don't worry about it. Besides, you seem relatively sane t'me."

"You could foster them. Foster them very far away," I'sai instructs Kerwin
by way of buying time; then, after that 'relatively' - "What _is_ it,
Kassi? if it's not the marks. Why're you all ... all smirky?"

Except Kerwin really -is- innocent, and looks it. Well, that and confused.
Honestly, he answers openly to Kassima, "Well, no, unless scaring me more
witless than I am counts as harm, you haven't, no." He doesn't seem to
object to having his hair ruffled, but instead offers a sheepish
half-smile. "I am working on being sane. But kids would probably set me way
back on that." Since, well, yes, insanity does come from your kids. "I
think I'll just wait, sir, and have kids later. I have plenty of time, I
think."

I'sai eyes his aunt darkly. "Unless."

"I haven't smirked once," Kassi protests, affronted. "Nay a single time.
Have you seen me smirk?" she implores Kerry, all innocent again. "Have you?
And why on Pern did I scare you? I can't really imagine--" Poor Kassi, all
confused. "You'll be sane. But I have t'be granting you, kidlets mightn't
*help*."

Yes, Kerry has to think about this one again, the little mental gears all
but turning, "Since we got here? Not that I can remember, as such, Sane
Aunt Kassi. But you do seem -awfully- innocent." He considers once more,
"Asking if I felt virile was scary, and suggesting I sing the cheese song,
that was scary too. But that's okay, I'm not especially bright mother says,
and that's why things don't scare me long." He nods once more, "Kids are
nice, but not especially sanity inducing."

At length, I'sai crosses his arms - no holy water, alas - and eyes them.
Maybe it's because he's paying ever so much attention, committing each
deathless word to someday-to-die memory?

Kassima makes a face at that. "You're bright enough, Kerry. Think about it:
you don't want t'carve vegetables into perverted shapes; doesn't that seem
bright t'you? Anyway, I *am* innocent--" And she treats I'sai to wide green
eyes again. Who could distrust puppy-dog eyes? "And the virility was
I'sai's fault. The cheese song... well, all right, that was me. Don't stare
at us like that, Is; don't you see how we ooze and radiate guilelessness?"

Kerwin really does pretty much radiate guilelessness, well, and worry as he
glances over at the arms-crossed I'sai. "Uh-oh," he murmurs to Kassima. "I
think we're in trouble." He has to agree though, albeit with a somewhat
puzzled expression, "Not wanting to carve vegetables into innapropriate
designs does seem to be indicative of -some- level of sense, maybe."

I'sai keeps staring - just because - even if his chin twitches again under
the scrutiny of those so-green eyes - but he does say, "There's been no
virility wielded in Kerry's direction. None at all. And I'm wondering how
many candlemarks it'll take to scoop the, the 'guilelessness' off the
floor." All that radiation, it's enough to make someone turn funny colors.

"Don't worry," Kassi murmurs to Kerwin. "I haven't given him lessons in
knife-fighting yet, so I can protect you." Didn't Kassi say, anyway, that
Is would turn neat colors? She'd just be fulfilling that promise, did she
radiate enough guilelessness to make him purple, or blue, or green. Blink,
blink, go the very large eyes. "Virility wielded in--oh, shards, nay, Is. I
didn't mean you were flirting with him or aught, much less, err, wielding
virility."

Kerwin could radiate ketchup? Wait, no, no, let's not go there. "And I
appreciate that, sir," he offers to I'sai, still wide-eyed. He's going to
pull an eyebrow muscle at this rate. "I really don't think anyone weilding
their virility on me would be an experience I'd be wanting just yet." He
adds in an undertone to Kassima. "Um, Sane Aunt Kassi? He's best friends
with someone who has a lot in the department of teeth and claws, I wasn't
so much thinking about knives."

It just so happens that back behind them, between them and the ledge, a
certain tail just happens to flick against the stone. His rider suggests -
after a nod; no flirting, no wielding - "You sure, Kerry? Maybe Kassima
could talk a certain other wingleader into it. Wouldn't that be fun!"

Kassima asserts, "Lysseth would protect us." And since the green in
question dozes, warm and contented in her shelter, there's not even a rude
snort from yon entranceway. Nor do any crazy blue hatchlings stumble up to
Kerwin with teeth bared. "'Wynne would be delighted if'n I could write home
that someone had wielded virility at you, though... pity. Is, I *don't*
think Mart would be amiable to that--nay offense, Kerry, I'm sure you're
the sort any man would be glad t'wield virility at, only Mart's... Mart."
Enough said.

Kerwin ducks down a bit at the movement of said certain tail, edging down a
bit further in the chair. Maybe he can just melt and become one with the
furniture. "Um, yes sir, I'm reasonably certain I'm in no hurry, sir." Be
sufficiently afraid, after all, of fun suggested by people you're scared
of. "Mother is thrilled by very odd things though, Sane Aunt Kassi. We
shouldn't cater to that, now should we?" Besides, he doesn't look a -thing-
like A'lex, to get more mileage out of an old joke.

How about a baker's dozen of little green hatchlings for Kerwin? With teeth
bared. And, speaking of A'lex, "Mart? Did I say Mart?" Look! It's I'sai's
turn to play innocent.

"I can't deny *that*," Kassi admits. "Given her reaction to that man who
painted the nude mural of her in one of the rooms in back of the bar... did
you ever see that?" She doesn't, mercifully, sound like she thinks he
*should've*. "You didn't *say* Mart, but that's who you meant; don't try
t'be denying it! You don't do innocent at *all* well." Oh, *hello*, Pot?

Kerwin can't help it, he has to ask, albeit softly, "Who's Mart?" He has to
nod then, looking horribly unthrilled. "Ih yes, I saw it. A lot. She was
very proud of it. Very, very, proud."

I'sai evidently needs lessons in that too. Lessons in innocence: doesn't
that seem unlikely? "-I- didn't see it. Wonder if Myk'd like to see it. And
he's my wingleader, Kerry. Kassi, have you introduced him to J'lyn, yet?"

Kassima bites her lip. This is a necessity to keep from laughing outright
at Kerwin's expression. "I can imagine, aye. And pity you. And thank
Faranth my mother isn't quite like your mother, nay offense intended." She
can only shake her head. "Don't know if you've ever been down to the place
in question, Is... and nay, can't say I have. D'you think Jal would wield
his virility at him?" Are they really having this conversation? "His
Wingleader and m'archnemesis," she appends for good measure.

Kerwin is just a natural, when it comes to innocence. Being slow of wit is
something of a defense, in this case. "J'lyn is the man with deficient
pants, right?" He has to ask, looking thoughtful. "And none taken, Sane
Aunt Kassi. If there were more than one of my mother in the world, I'd be
pretty disturbed." He nods to the various explanations of Mart.

I'sai asks, "Which place is that?" And, "You could ask him?" about
virility-wielding, apparently. And, "Yes. They're ...special pants. Have
you seen Kassi's pair?"

"Sunstone Tavern, down in Greystones," Kassi promptly supplies. "Methinks
you'd remember Kaliawynne if'n you met her. Most people do. *My* pair?"
Watch her choke. "Mine are buried far, far away, I'sai, but yours--say,
wouldn't they be in here somewhere? You could model them for Kerwin. So he
can see what they are. You haven't seen any, have you, Kerry?"

Oh now the look I'sai gets is, well, really priceless. Kerwin all but
boggles outright at the idea of Kassima and the Amazing Buttless Pants.
"Sane Aunt Kassi owns pants missing strategic bits?" There's a brief,
almost betrayed look at Kassima. That -can't- be sane, after all. There's a
hint of relief as she says they've been buried, after all that seems like
-something-. The news that I'sai has a pair too garners Yet More Alarm,
"Does -everybody- in this place own pants that have no butt? Was there some
sort of massive cloth-for-pants shortage or something?"

"Leather," I'sai says. Darkly. Without - note - agreeing to model.
"Leather. Not cloth. 'Sunstone, down in Greystones,' eh..." he glances
around, "Anyone see a stylus?"

Kassima tries to explain, a bit frantically, "'Twere a gift from Jal,
Kerwin, which is why I couldn't just *give* them away; you can't give away
gifts... so I buried them where nay anyone will ever find 'em instead."
Yeah, that's better. And doesn't 'Kassima and the Amazing Buttless Pants'
sound like a carnival sideshow act? "They weren't *my* idea. And they're
nay cloth--they're leather, aren't they, Is? Aye, see? So they're really
terrifying... I don't see one offhand; why?"

"Massive leather shortage then?" Kerwin asks, at I'sai's word. "Surely
people could wear shorts or something under them, if there were. That would
be -terribly- cold, I would think. Especially in weather like this." He
just blinks at Kassima. And then, since that made so much sense at the
time, he blinks again. "This man gives very, very odd gifts." There's a
faint headshake then, "Um, no sir."

I'sai twitches at the mention of underlying shorts to accommodate such a
shortage - and finally says, more than a tweak or anything - is he _really_
going to collect his weyrmate and fly down to some tavern to ogle this
apprentice's mother's painting? not hardly - "So I can write it down, see.
About the picture." He sends a dark look in the curtain's direction,
muttering as how bloody firelizards probably stole it again, and how maybe
just using the leather-awl would work instead," and starts to pull at the
topmost drawer of the desk.

"*Oh*. Well," Kassi says, rather brightly, "if'n you end up knocking up
Cousin Kaliawynne, don't tell her I sent you, hey? Familial vengeance can
be a nasty thing." Particularly in a family of madmen. Watch her try hard
not to fidget or lean in as Is goes desk-rummaging--is she that curious as
to whether there's a stylus in there? Strange. "They're too tight for
shorts," she confides to Kerwin then. "Or so I'm told. 'Tis why they're
called cheek chillers."

Kerwin's eyes widen a hair more at I'sai, he can't help it. "You're going
to write this down..." He has to be quiet a moment. "Well, um, -supposedly-
it's a nice picture, I guess. It just scares me." It's his mother, of
course it scares him. I don't -even- want to think of nude paintings of my
mother. "Ack, wait, I'm getting more siblings?" He just shudders then at
Kassima's words. "I think they sound really, really, terribly surreal."

I'sai, rummaging, stops with the drawer open oh, about half a handwidth.
And then he detours to crouch down and ... adjust a sock. A red sock,
that's slipped down into a very, very ratty slipper. Without looking up,
"It's not as if there'd be a -flight-. Unless there's something more I
don't know about your family."

Kassima points out, very reasonably, "'Tis your mother, naked, Kerry.
A'course it scares you... and really, why nay? She only has three. That
isn't very many, all things considered." One wonders what this woman would
think about this conversation. Veritably bouncing in her seat, she aims a
dark look down at I'sai's sock. Evil sock. "Saskia gave you those, didn't
she? And nay, nay, but I daresay she'd find a way. Liquor if'n naught else,
and she's adept at convincing people t'drink." Among other things.

"I wasn't objecting," Kerwin, explains, after re-learning how to spell his
name. "It's always just nice to have warning. I like my sisters most of the
time, honest." He shakes his head then, "Well, no, not a flight, but like
Sane Aunt Kassi says....she has ways." Of making you talk? Not precisely.

I'sai grunts assent about those socks, then finally straightens, "Hmm. How
about Myk's having - that is, her having Myk's instead? How would that be?"
Doesn't get around to touching the drawer again, yet.

Kassima spreads her hands apart. "Fine by me if'n 'twould be fine by her
and him, and I daresay her having Myk's *something* would be just fine by
her, although child might take more convincing." She's by now craning to
watch the saga of sock, hand, and drawer, which is probably rather
disturbing. "Disturbing ways," she appends to Kerwin's observations.

Kerwin's brows furrow again, but this time in concerted thought. "Um, if
said person wants to? It's my mother, not me, I don't mind who she breeds
with. By this point, I'm old enough the people she breeds with don't expect
me to call them 'Daddy' at least, so it's all the same to me." He's
watching Kassima now, however, and looking confused. "Is something wrong,
Sane Aunt Kassi?"

I'sai mutters something about having to remember to write that down, too,
reaching for the drawer - and then stops with his hand on it, "Wrong?"

Kassima murmurs, "You calling Myk 'Daddy'... when he used t'be calling me
'Auntie.' That, methinks, would just disturb me terribly, and make me feel
quite ancient." All the while still craning--until I'sai asks his question,
at which point she reverts back to sitting calmly and looking far, far too
innocent. "Wrong? A'course nay. Whatever would be wrong?"

"You're not -ancient-, Sane Aunt Kassi," Kerwin assures quietly. "You're
just the age you're supposed to be." He blinks then, once again, from I'sai
to Kassi and back again. "Oh, okay, if nothing's wrong then...you just
looked kind of fidgety."

I'sai supposes, "Well, if it wouldn't seem right - maybe I'll not worry
about it, then." As if he would - right? - but it says something at least
that, these days, he can joke about such things. "And ... what he said."

"That had better mean young," Kassi mutters, with a dubious glance at her
cousin. "I'm nay fidgety at all--" Liar! "Or if'n I am, 'tis just this
weather. Makes me restless... and Is, you're twisted. Just so you know."
She meanwhile tries to radiate innocence some more. She's getting
progressively bad at that.

Kerwin just looks, well, innocent. Sometimes it's good to be the innocent
one. "The weather is really awful lately, this is a point. All the sleet
and ice and all, things never seem to get dry properly."

"Awful indeed, and -thank- you, Kassi," I'sai says smarmily, and as
comeuppance ... opens that drawer wide.

Kassima replies with due flutter, "You're welcome." A sleepy contralto
rumble can be heard from near the ledge, and she translates, "Lyss quite
agrees with you, Kerry." Oh, and the *drawer*. This she has to watch.

Kerwin doesn't realize the drawer is particularly an evil thing, and
glances back ledge-wards at the sleepy rumble. "I'm just going to be awful,
and say I'm glad I don't have to fly in it, the way you all do. The
kitchens, at least, and warm and dry."

"Nothing awful about that - warm an' dry's good - just remember that if
Lysseth whuffles you, tell her no - " says I'sai absently as he reaches
around - and out. It. Flops.

Hip-racing ribbons are all that'll secure this slip of a thong. Attached to
the front, a small, blunt silver pin is bent in the form of a fishing hook,
and suspended from its point is the gaping mouth of a fish. Now, this isn't
any ordinary fish. Every scale on her body seems to shimmer. Each and every
individual scale has been crafted from an almost sheer sisal, but layer
upon layer of fabric more than make up for the lack of covering at the
front. The fish tail forms a narrow thong, designed to slip back between
one's cheeks to fan out at the small of one's back; there, more of the
glittering fish scales would press against skin, joining with the sides of
the ribbon.

"Tell her nay?" Kassi questions, but is distracted from her normal
curiousity as to the answer by the... flopping. The thing. The flopping
thing. Oh, man, if you thought she looked innocent *before*....

"Whuffling's bad?" Kerwin has to ask, sounding somewhat confused. "Is it
against some kind of rule?" Don't let the canines on the couch, don't let
Lysseth whuffle, don't take castration devices into the kitchen... He
however, does -not- look innocent. He looks traumatized. Man, and you
thought those fish-ties in 80's were scary. "Ack!" Wow, he really is a
genius of words, isn't he?

Ask I'sai later about the whuffling; right now he's just sort of staring at
this glittery thing, less traumatized himself than just -blank-. "Huh?" He
picks it up by its hook, ribbons trailing, and mutters something about it
can't have been around here long, it's not firelizard-chewed. To the
others, "Seen anything like this before?" Turns it around. Sees its pocket.
"Is it a finger puppet?"

Oh, dear. Kassi would answer Kerry's questions, she really would, but she's
preoccupied by doubling up in her chair and snickering helplessly. She's a
greenrider; she has no gift for *maintaining* innocence. "Finger puppet!"
she gets out through her chortles. This evidently strikes her as *extra*
amusing.

Kerwin has the mother he has. He does not assume this is an innocent thing.
He is likely well acquainted with a host of vaguely similar horrors.
Although, well, from the wide-eyed look, nothing -quite- that spot on
similar. "Um, no, sir, I don't think it's for your -finger-, sir." Kassima
is given an attempt at a look, "Sane Aunt Kassi, it's -scary-..."

I'sai pokes at it; its tail jiggles. Faintly wounded, "What's so funny?" 
Poke-poke. It sure does glitter. "Yeah, maybe not the finger, more a couple 
of 'em, though I don't see why they didn't just have it go down the tail so 
you could make -it- dance..." and experiments a little more, trying to get 
the fish to dance.

Kassima is really caught up too much in mirth to make much sense; she can
only point and chortle, particularly once she sees Kerwin's expression.
"Does your mother have one of those, Kerry?" she wants to know, trying
innocence, failing. "'Tis rather *disturbing*, in its way...." And she
dissolves into snickers again at the number of fingers. "I don't think 'tis
supposed t'*dance*, precisely...."

Mortification, thy name is Kerry. He, it may be noted, is not laughing.
He's just trying to sink down into the chair, and away from the jiggling
underwear. "Sir, it's for a part of your body that has absolutely nothing
to do with your hands to go into." What is this, a guessing game? Animal,
vegetable, or mineral! Kassima is given another reasonably horrified look,
"Well not -exactly- like it, it's um...fishier...but some things kind of
like that. She collects things, I think, maybe. Or people give them to her."

I'sai pauses, "Not dance? Maybe it's more like a puppet show." and tries
dangling from its ribbons instead. C'mon baby, do the rhumba... "Looks a
lot like that one costume, from the masquerade..." Dance, fishie, dance. To
Kerwin, "Well, I couldn't put my -foot- in there."

Kassima collapses in on herself, buring her face in her hands and quietly
dying of laughter. She should watch it; she could asphyxiate this way.
"*Hopefully* nay," she croaks. "I should think... and I'm glad that she
doesn't have, um, fish. Because this seems uniquely disturbing, that way."

This is just getting worse and worse. Kerwin is trying somehow to sink
-entirely- into the chair. He is one with the chair, ommmm. "Sir...sir,
it's um...underwear, sort of." Kassima is given another, 'You are -not-
helping' look. He can't help it. "Considering what father does," he has to
agree though. "It would be...bad."

I'sai roundly stares at the two of them, ribbons going slack in his hand.
Matter-of-factly, "It can't be underwear. There's not nearly -enough- of it."

I'sai adds some moments later, just so they're clear, "You'd -freeze-."

This is just not Kassi's day, today; there not being 'nearly enough' wins
new gales of laughter. Poor woman. "That's the *point*, methinks," she
tries to point out, helpfully. Or not quite helpfully. "'Tis like those
pants, y'know? Where missing bits are, uh, the point?" Kerwin wins an
innocent glance: is she being more helpful now? Only, see, she has to crack
up again at the last comment. "Very bad. Very, very bad."

"I didn't say it was -warm- underwear," Kerwin protests, even more
mortified than before. There's even a glance back towards the ledge, as if
maybe, just maybe, he might try stone climbing after all. "You put
the...and the...and it all stays with the ribbons...and it was in your desk
drawer, so maybe you could um...ask the desk." He's stretching, yes, for
ideas here. There's a brief sigh Kassi-wards, although it's fond exasperation.

Another fish-twitch - just to show he can? - but I'sai's slowly going red.
Very red. "It's too... it looks like it's something to be looked at... it's
not _mine_."

Kassima chirps, "'Tis now, it looks like. I doubt 'twas a gift meant for
Myk, somehow." You don't say. "Very peculiar sort of gift, but it looks as
though it cost someone a lot of marks, so, y'know, you really should keep
it." Having mostly controlled her laughter, she's now gazing at fish and
man with innocence again, although a somewhat less overdone innocence. In a
stage whisper to Kerwin, "See? I *told* you he turns interesting colors."

Kerwin looks more and more nervous as I'sai starts to go red. Fidget,
cower, fidget. "It does look...well, a lot like a very fancy toy or
something, yessir. It's uh...scary." Kassima is given another look, this
one of barely concealed terror, "Doesn't that mean he's mad? Shouldn't we
flee very quickly? I'm too young to die today."

I'sai asks, for no particular reason, "What does your father do, Kerwin?"
There's a pause, then. A lengthening pause. What turns out to be a very
long pause indeed, plenty of room to laugh in. "Very. Fancy. Toy. ...What
do you know about how this ... this thing ... came to be? Kassi?"

"I'm certain he's nay *mad*, Kerwin. Nay mad 'tall," Kassi soothes after,
yes, some snickering. You expected other? "Don't look at me, Is! I certes
didn't buy you the thing; does that look like aught *I'd* spend marks on?
Particularly since I know full well you'll surely never wear it?"

"He's a seacrafter," Kerwin explains, tacking on a quiet, "Sir," since,
well, he's nervous. There's some relief at Kassima's explanation, and a
quiet sigh. "It's not my fault either," he makes sure to put in, although
that was probably a pretty safe bet.

"What does being a seacrafter have to do with anything?" I'sai says, mostly
to Lord Not-His-Fault. His own relief at said explanation comes with the
understanding that he'd not wear it; "...But do you know how it got here,
even if you didn't buy it? You -have- been sly." As if she couldn't have
countless other good reasons to do that.

Kassima demures, "I'sai, if'n I've been sly, it could be for a host of
reasons--" See, he's right! "--Completely unrelated to... that. C'mon. You
know me. Can you really picture me doing aught involving a *thong*?" This
is a good point.... "I haven't a clue who it might've been," and here's
where the outright lying starts, "but you'd best hope they're nay willing
t'be confessing, else otherwise *they* might be wanting you t'wear it.
Whoever they are. But nay, Kerwin, I've nay doubt 'tis your fault, unless
that's some thing of your mother's that got brought here somehow or some
such."

"Fish, seacrafters, it's...well, scary, I won't go there," Kerwin tries to
explain, although he's most assuredly not managing cluefulness. "It's a
-scary- thing, that's what it is." He shakes his head very quickly at
Kassima, "Nope, not my fault, nuh-uh."

I'sai attempts to regroup. Funny how the fish is now flat on the table...
and a goodly distance from his lap. "Er," he says. Probably to Kerwin.
Less-helpful-Kerwin, just now. Still a little blank, still a lot red, "Why
- why would - if you're sure it's not for Myk - why would someone -do- that?"

"I'm sure I can't imagine," Kassi begins, still trying to sound innocent
without overdoing it--never an easy task for her. "M'guess would be t'make
you gibber and sputter, offhand. Either that, or some rich admirer--perhaps
someone from afar? A warmer climate?--commissioned it and had it sent here
t'you, in hopes that you'd wear it for her. Or him. Or it." It?

Kerwin is very carefully avoiding looking at the fish thing. It is scary,
and fearsome, and if he can't see it, it's not there, right? "Maybe someone
likes fish?"

I'sai's eyes narrow, thoughtful - as Kassima speaks, but the more so as
Kerwin does. "'It,'" he repeats. And then he's looking up again, mouth
hooked to a spare smile. "So. If you couldn't say how it got here, or
anything like that... let's pretend I wanted to find out where it came
from; how would you suggest I try and figure it out?"

Kassima has to think about this one. These pauses for thought must be a
family trait. "We-e-ell," she drawls at length, "I suppose I'd suggest
finding one of those obnoxious people who seems t'know everything and
asking them. You never know what you might learn that way. But I'd think
someone who liked fish would be a good bet."

Kerwin just continues carefully not looking at the fish. He snags another
cookie instead. The cookies make sense, they are not to be worn as
underwear. He adds then, "Maybe bribing someone. Aren't bribes supposed to
be good?"

I'sai points out, "I'd be asking you, then." Pause. "Kassima," he adds
apologetically to Kerwin. "And this isn't just any fish... and I'd need to
know the right person to bribe. Ah, not that I have anything to bribe
-with-, oh no."

"Me?" Oh, look! The innocence is back! "But, I'sai, whyever would I know
aught about fish thongs?" Kassi's terrible at this, she really is. "Oh, I
don't know now. For a *bribe*, I imagine I could find something out for you."

Kassima adds in a sweet aside to her cousin, "Bribes are *very* good." At
least, when you're the bribee.

Kerwin nods in understanding, "I figured, sir, since I know absolutely
nothing. It's much safer to know absolutely nothing." Ignorance is bliss?
He nods then to Kassima, although it's a somewhat confused nod.

"Of course it is," says Is, dry. "And I'm sure they are. Come to think of
it, I remember hearing about some weaver and a fishy commission - but that
might be the costume. And y'know, somehow, I don't think it'd be the best
of ideas to hie myself over to High Reaches, dangle the thong in front of
people, and ask, 'Does this look familiar.'"

"There were fish-themed costumes, I'm sure," Kassi agrees with blissful
blitheness. "And, y'know, I'd have t'be agreeing with you. It'd really be
safer t'bribe me."

"It might get you some interesting looks," Kerwin suggests softly, always
willing to try and be helpful, even if...well, he isn't.

Kassima seconds, brightly, "*Very* interesting looks!" She's not even trying.

Ah, confirmation: "Now, what would it take in bribe?" I'sai inquires. And -
airily, as if he didn't care about such things, though maybe even the
novice mightn't be fooled - "Though what's an interesting look going to
hurt me, after all."

Kassima spreads her hands apart in a gesture of innocent nonchalance. "Why,
that depends rather on what you're willing t'be offering, doesn't it?
You're the briber; you offer. I'll tell you whether 'twill accept. And
really, 'twouldn't hurt you at all. I'd leer if'n I could do so more than
once per Turn; I hate t'waste it." She does, however, waggle her eyebrows.
Oh, the humanity.

Kerwin just keeps quiet, looking from I'sai to Kassima, and carefully not
looking at the thing. You know, the thing of evil. Kassima is given another
confused look, "Only once a turn?"

I'sai opens up the drawer, and there's a swishing noise, and the thing o'
evil has disappeared. Aside from one ribbon, at least. Which he's playing
with. "Lysseth again," he says to the apprentice. "Only this time flying -
special-flying - not Searching." And after a look at the basket, he tries,
"How about the last cookie?"

Awww, which means the thing of evil can't look back at Kerwin with little
fishy eyes. Poor thing of evil. Poor swishy thing of evil. "Good guess,"
Kassi tells Is with a shake of her head, "but nay quite; I never leer when
she's proddy that I know of. More like m'nature is so lacking in lechery
that I use it all up in that one leer, and the necessary amount isn't
regained 'til a full Turn after. Weren't you going t'leave one for Myk?"

"Oh," Kerwin replies to I'sai, looking slightly more enlightened, but not a
great deal. He doesn't feel at -all- sorry for the poor swishy thing. He
fears the swishy thing. "Oh," he says again, this time to Kassima. "I guess
you have to wait for special occasions to leer then, since it's so rare."

It's not swishy, it's swished. Or something. "What did you use for your
last leer, then?" I'sai worries. "And the one before that? - And of course
I was, but I'll make it up to him, see."

Kassima mourns, "Didn't, actually. I haven't gotten the chance t'leer since
I leered at Maylia on a jest, and that was Turns and Turns agone... well,
but nay, I don't think a cookie would do for a bribe. Since I could
probably get more cookies. Don't you think, Kerry?"

Kerwin looks interested at this questions of leers, can he be blamed? He
considers a moment, and then apologetically nods. "Um, under the
circumstances, probably, yes, if you wanted them."

"Turns and Turns? Why, that must mean you have plenty saved up. Leers, that
is, not cookies," and Kerwin gets a dour look: _must_ he tell truth? "Well,
then, since I made the offer, you'll just have to say what at least might
do," I'sai decides. "No fair just rejecting it." Fair? 'Fair'?

Kassima rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "Perhaps so," she grants, "but what
if'n they don't stockpile? Then I'd use a leer for naught. A'course, if'n
you *really* want me t'leer, well, a bit of extra bribery might
suffice...." She has no shame, nope, none at all. "Thankee, Kerry. You're a
good cousin." And she reaches to try and ruffle his hair again. No shame
and no manners. "*Fair*. What an interesting word. Hmmm. There's always the
possibility of a favor, though... that wouldn't be wise. Then our favors
would cancel each other out, y'see. Hmmmm. Kerry, what should I ask for?"

Kerwin's look in return to I'sai is terribly apologetic. He didn't mean to,
really, but he just couldn't lie to Sane Aunt Kassi! Really... Kassima is
given another confused look, "People bribe you to leet at them? Sane Aunt
Kassi, that's weird." Thank you, thank you, yes, more brilliance. There's a
sheepish grin though at the hair ruffling. He blinks then, "Um, for him to
let us out of here alive?"

I'sai's look in return to Kerwin's look in return to -his- look is
substantially more forgiving. "Good idea."

"Nay usually, but you take bribes where you can get them." Thus speaks the
self-made rich woman, whose money rarely comes from honest work. Kassi
quips, "But I'm nay worried about that. We're two, he's one, we have the
edge."

"Oh," Kerwin murmurs. He tried, he really tried. He just cowers some more.
"Oh."

I'sai squares his shoulders, says - look at those narrowed eyes! - "I could
take 'im." Just to see Kerwin's reaction, mind.

"Couldn't, couldn't!" Kassi taunts. Helpful. She's really, really helpful.

Kerwin just edges down all the further in the chair now, trying to look
small, and inoffensive. The latter he can cover, but at his height, small
is not his trick to muster. "Could we maybe not kill me? Please? I just
brought cookies, I didn't do a thing here..."

I'sai eyes him, and then supposes with -such- disappointment affecting his
voice, "Maybe you'd better come up with a bribe-idea after all, Kassi."

Awwww. Kassi is, in the end, a sucker for cute and cowering things. That's
how she ended up with a bunch of timid FLs and a baby duck. "Don't kill
him, Is. If'n you have t'fight with someone, stick to me." She may be
guilty, but at least she protects the innocent. "Well, well, welladay... I
can think of a thing or two I could use, but I don't know how many you'd be
willing t'provide. I could always ask that you show that thong off for us
in exchange...." While Kerwin's here? Maybe she *is* evil after all.

Kerwin looks rather relieved that death doesn't seem to be eminent, but
just in case, stays nice and low in the chair. He's just an apprentice,
he's no threat to anybody, not at all, really. He's not -quite- a duck
though, but he could fake it if that would help. "Let's not kill
-anybody-," he suggests quietly. Can't we all just get along? "It's really
terribly messy." He quickly covers his eyes, just in case I'sai is going to
start stripping, right here and now.

"You could ask me which things," I'sai points out. "And wear," ha! "Under
what circumstances?" And then, seeing as how Kerwin's covering his eyes -
why not? Is retrieves the thong and tosses it at him. Overhand.

"'Tis, y'know," Kassi agrees with utmost sympathy. "The blood and gore get
everywhere... well, I'll tell you, y'know how you asked me once for knife
lessons as part of a bargain? I could use lessons. Only nay with knives.
But I don't think--ack!" That would be as the fish goes flying. Just to be
safe, she ducks. "Well, Kerwin should get t'see, whatever the circumstances
are."

My! The Kerwin in the wild moves -quickly- when startled. As the fish thing
hits him, Kerry -yelps- outright, and scrambles back, up, and over the
chair in a single move far less kitten-hesitant than his norm. Then, of
course, he realizes he looks like an idiot. The fish just ends up in the
chair. It probably looks smug. I'sai is given a suspicious look.

I'sai, well, he's -snickering-. A lot. Quite a lot. Thumping the tabletop
with the flat of his hand, even. There might be a mutter about
what-kind-of-lessons, but it's pretty much garbled.

Kassima was just doomed: the second Kerry starts scrambling, she cracks up
again, and in fact falls right out of the chair with a medium-sized thump.
No harm must be done, since she keeps snickering her brains out.

"I'm reasonably sure throwing underwear is -not- sane, sir," Kerwin offers.
Still from behind the chair. Behind the chair is a -lot- safer. He peers at
Kassima as well, suspicious for a moment there too, "Be careful Aunt Kassi,
he might start throwing strange sexual undergarments again."

I'sai eventually manages to get out, with what would be a prim air if only
he could hold it - "That's as strange as it gets."

"Might... start throwing... strange sexual undergarments...." Kassi's just
a lost cause, though at least her laughter is mostly silent, and she curls
up in a ball on the floor. The better to protect herself from smug thongs,
maybe? "Nay, Is, if'n the thing had gotten stuck on his head or
something... *that* would've been as strange as it gets."

Kerwin is just going to stay on this side of the chair, although at least
he drops down to sit cross-legged on the floor, and peer around the chair.
"That was strange -enough-, certainly."

I'sai eyes them. Both on the floor. Maybe it's a trap? "Definitely strange
enough," he agrees. "So, ah, ...lessons in what, Kassi? Not throwing
underwear." Please no.

Kassima tries to stop laughing, she really does. "*Nay*," she emphasizes,
while pulling herself back up into her chair. Note, her chair, not the one
the fish is in. "I shouldn't think so. Though you've a good hand with the
stuff, evidently. 'Twas thinking--" She breaks off, looking sheepish. "This
is really rather silly. But 'twas thinking after the Masque that mayhaps I
should try and find someone who can dance, and ask for lessons, so I don't
need t'worry about breaking people anymore." Pause. "Is that better or
worse than flinging underwear? What think you, Kerry?"

Yes, Kerwin is really a trained assassin from Boll, and this is all part of
his devious scheme! Err, or more likely not, as he peers suspiciously
around the chair again. He perks up at the idea offered, "That sounds like
a really, really good idea actually, Sane Aunt Kassi. Dancing's a lot of
fun, well, usually." When Emelei's not crushing his feet...

I'sai eyes the desk as if to lean over it - and then walks around it,
reaching to reclaim the fish-thing. "Something like that could be managed,"
he speculates. "And I take it -you- don't want to teach her."

Kassima eyes that fish thing warily while Is holds it; who knows but that
it might go flying again? "I just don't want t'break any more feet," she
explains, a little rueful. "I doubt I'd ever be one of those people who's
out on the dance floor all the time *anyway*, but, y'know, one should be
prepared, in case. And know how t'be avoiding people who'd kick you in the
shins, in case." Speaking of Emelei, as 'twere?

Kerwin peers as the fish thing is reclaimed, and agreeably climbs back up
to his feet to gingerly slide into the chair again, now that it's safe once
more. Chairs, after all, make it easier to retain what little dignity one
has. "He could wear really hard boots," he suggests quietly. "To protect
his feet."

I'sai murmurs, "Can you just see it? Next time we hold a dance, we hand
out... what are those things that cover real boots to make yours look
extra-tidy? Those, to protect everyone's feet." Pause. "So-o... dance
lessons for Kassi in exchange for Kassi telling us all she knows about
where this," fish-waggle, "came from?"

"I suppose," Kassi decides slowly, watching the waggling fish, "that's fair
enough. And if'n that'd work, 'tis a shame we'd nay thought of it long
since... you all right, Kerry? Didn't hurt aught in that scramble?"

"Except maybe made of metal, at least if Emelei's going to be dancing
again," Kerwin adds softly, twitching his feet back against the chair, as
if keeping them out of the way. "Dance lessons sound like really a lot of
fun, Sane Aunt Kassi. Then you could dance at the next party. The dancing's
the best part, that's why I was willing to dress up like an ovine." He
shakes his head then in a negative, "No, Sane Aunt Kassi, I didn't hurt
anything. I'm fine. I'm used to having to escape at speed if need be."

At least the fish is unworn, thank Faranth and her inbred offspring. I'sai
asks after a moment - though promises nothing - "Can't dance either, Kerwin?"

Kassima demures at once, "I doubt *that*, Kerry; I don't really anticipate
dancing. That's something the younger people do." Considerable drollness
*there*. "'Tis embarrassing nay t'know how, is all. D'your mother's suitors
ever come after you?" What a terrifying thought. In an aside, "And are you
*sure* you wouldn't rather wear the fish, Is?"

"Me sir?" Kerwin asks of I'sai. "No, I can dance, I like dancing. Mother
made sure I knew how, though her reasons were terribly scary. Emelei can't
though, though I don't know if she entirely realizes she can't. I had some
really interesting bruises for a couple days after the Masque, from trying
to dance with her." He shakes his head then, "I thing dancing defies age
groups." He shakes his head again, those ink-dark curls scattering, "Not as
such, but well, when folks are drunk they do weird things." That last is
said with an all but pointed glance.

I'sai's expression shades distinctly relieved when Kerwin finishes talking
- and once that's filed away he agrees, "Tell that 'younger people' bit to
that auntie with the hair growing out of her chin - and nose! - who kept
wanting to dance; she must have ninety Turns if she's a day. Anyway."
There's some hesitation, if not necessarily of the _thinking_ variety:
"Y'know... it does sound a little. Well. Could I have a choice? I mean,
later? Dance lessons or wearing ...it."

I'sai says "Or."

I'sai says "Ah, no. Lessons it is."

Dryly, "Well, but she's an example of why elders shouldn't, isn't she?"
Kassi wonders. And more dryly yet, "Goodness, nay wonder I've never been
able t'learn, if'n the teaching's equal horror with the thong--but certes,
certes, the choice is yours, and I'll take either. Kerry... I hate t'be
asking, and really, I shouldn't. But what were 'Wynne's reasons?" If that
glance earns sheepishness from her, she endeavors to hide it.

Kerwin nods amiably to I'sai. See, this makes sense to him, people with
hairy noses wanting to dance. Err, okay, not quite in that many words. He
murmurs something about this not sounding like much of a choice to -him-,
but it's quiet mostly. He blinks at Kassima's question, but answers in all
honesty, "She says that dancing's the horizontal expression of a vertical
desire, and that one can get laid a lot more if one knows how. I was, I
believe, eight."

After quite a lot of headshaking Kassima's way, given that driest comment -
at Kerwin's, I'sai's eyes go wide. "Oh," he says, inadequately. "Very -
thoughtful? of your mother?" And then, "See, wearing the - _it_ - that'd
be, what, one quick flash; and this, why, I'd have to get it right."

Kassima pauses at that. "...There's just nay way for me t'be asking whether
it works without suggesting you started sleeping with people at eight or
should've, is there? I suspect this is just another example of your mother
being more cracked than a bowl of nuts." Pause again. "Nay that this is the
best metaphor t'be using, all things considered." She shakes her head back
at the headshaking, but does comment, "Glad t'be hearing you'd intend to,
instead of getting revenge by making sure you *didn't*."

"Mother is not normal," Kerwin informs I'sai, as if perhaps this were not
entirely self-evident. "She has issues." Issues...uh-huh, that's a little
mild, maybe? "But dancing's still a lot of fun, even if she had weird
ulterior motives in teaching me." He lifts his shoulders slightly, "If it
works, I have no idea, Sane Aunt Kassi. But she isn't sane, no, very much
not so. But she's very cheerful about it all."

I'sai lets the family discussion be, not touching those issues with... with
a fish-shaped thong; for the rest, seriously enough, "Yeah, 'revenge' for
some things, sure - Ryi's singing leaps to mind - but that?" He shrugs,
one-shouldered. "Would want to do a good job of it, if I did it."

"Issues is *one* way t'put it," Kassi mutters. "One very understating
way... wait, wait, wait. 'Wynne said this while teaching you herself? So
she was suggesting that... she wanted t'sleep with her own kid?" Is it any
wonder Kassi looks thoroughly horrified by this. "Dear *Faranth*, I had nay
idea--and wait a minute! Ryi's singing? You blame that on *me*?"

I'sai waves a hand, "No, no, no, it was an example. Of -her- getting
revenge. _That's_ like the fish-thing; that's not like dancing." He'll just
let all that teaching and issues and... teaching issue not even reach one
ear, much less go out the other.

Kerwin would probably appreciate nothing else being touched with the fishy
thong, yes. He shakes his head quickly, "Ack, no Sane Aunt Kassi, mother
doesn't have -that- kind of issue. She wanted me to be able to um...dance
with other people." He has to ask, "Ryi's singing?"

"But the fish thing wasn't revenge," Kassi protests, though in slow and
bemused fashion; she's gotten tangled up in her thoughts, clearly. "Oh,
good, good, all right then. Though her wanting you t'dance with other
people when you were *eight*... I don't think I can explain Ryi's singing.
Is?"

I'sai says definitively, "I couldn't either, and I won't try," though no
doubt bribing might work. "And by that sort of thing I mean, it's all right
to weasel out of -that- sort of thing; can't do it for something like
teaching, not that, but for singing... or for wearing the fish-thing...
definitely." Is-logic. And it's then, only then that he asks so
guilelessly, "Really? What was it then, Kassima? Do tell."

"She just wanted to teach me, and it was raining and all," Kerwin attempts
to explain, albeit kind of lamely. His brain has been pickled by fish
thongs and such. He ohhs then, nodding. "Oh, okay, inexplicable I understand."

Kassima drawls out, "So you'd choose the fish thing and then weasel out?
Hardly fair--I'll make you a deal, though: either you *do* do one or the
other, nay weaselling, and if'n you choose t'wear the thong then we--" here
she indicates Kerwin and herself, "--both get t'see. Agree to that, and
I'll answer that question." Considering Kerry, she comments, "Picture a
saw, rasped against stone, with grit thrown in for good measure, magnified
by ten."

"That's what Ryi told me to do, 'member," I'sai points out. "Not weasel out
of it altogether, mind - never be able to get out of it a second time,
after all! - but just ... stick with the letter of the agreement." There's
a smile. "So there we go. Dancing or wearing-and-you-get-to-see, in
exchange from what we'd said before, you telling me all you know about the
fish-thing."

"Wait, wait, wait, what if I don't -want- to see?" Kerwin has to ask,
looking faintly alarmed. "Not that sir, any offense is meant, but well,
see, weird underwear is scary." There's a decided shudder, "Ugh, that's
-not- festive, Sane Aunt Kassi."

Kassima considers this, then solemnly extends her hand for shaking. "Fair
deal, fair deal... and awww, Kerry, did your mother never teach you the
value of *blackmail*?"

I'sai assures a, "No problem," Kerwin's way, and then reaches out - no,
substitutes the non-fish-thing hand with which to seal the deal.

"Not like that, she didn't," Kerwin informs Kassima. I'sai is given a
terribly grateful look, "Thanks you sir, I owe you one."

Kassima reaches to clasp the hand, since it holds no fish thing, and shakes
firmly. "D'you want t'know now, then, or later?" she asks now that the
bargain's been sealed. Then, "You're really missing out, Kerry. Having dirt
on people is a wonderful way t'live."

"You're welcome, and I'll remember that," I'sai says to Kerwin. There's
that smile again. And then, once he's straightened back again, "Now! Of
course." Of _course_.

"I'll have to remember that, Aunt Kassi," Kerwin assures quietly, but he
looks unconvinced. He should know to be afraid of that smile, but instead
he just nods, a little shell-shocked. It's been a shell-shocked sort of
affair.

"Of course," Kassi echoes, with a wry look to her cousin. "When people want
information, they always want it *now*--another thing t'remember. Anyway.
The story goes: Divya and J'han commissioned this terror from someone, nay
idea who, and asked me t'be delivering it t'you in secret while they
deliver a matching set of... things... t'Yenne, I believe the story goes."

"Ha, it -was- you," I'sai says, pleased. (Pleased?) But then - "Er. Divya?
J'han? Her? ...Why? That is. Er. I mean. It was very... um, thoughtful?
Yes, thoughtful. Of them." Wouldn't his fosterer be proud.

"They want information now, yes Sane Aunt Kassi," Kerwin echoes, looking as
if he's not entirely sure if he should be taking notes or not. He listens
to the explanation intently however. He adds, "It sounds really surreal of
them, but I don't know them. Swimming underwear isn't normal."

Kassima takes as much of a bow as she can, being in a chair and all.
"Subtlety and subterfuge are never m'strong point," she admits freely. "I
like seeing the *expressions* too much! Nay real idea why--I don't know
J'han 'tall, but for whatever reason, they thought of you for the target
and me for the deliverer. And how could I resist, knowing you'd turn such
splendid colors?" She always has been fond of red. "*Fish*-shaped underwear
isn't normal. I don't know about swimming. Some of the things people wear
t'swim in never fail t'be amazing me. Or appalling me."

I'sai murmurs something about J'han, and visiting Leya, and how -strange-.
"Funny. Don't see how someone could swim in it. And keep it on." Though
given the way he eyes it, there's some question as to how to keep it on in
the first place. "It's a puzzle. Must've cost them a decent amount in marks
or favors, too, for all that there's not much to it..."

Kerwin is giving Kassima rather suspicious looks. After all, she knew this
was going to happen and brought him -anyway-. This is to be wary of. "Well,
okay, underwear that looks like it should swim on its own."

"Underwear that should swim on its own is weird," Kassi agrees, quite
willingly enough. "...Visiting *Leya*? That I hadn't heard, but--anyway,
methinks 'tis the ribbons." She hardly sounds sure. She's never worn a
thong. "They're evil, aren't they? I had t'be admiring the wickedness of
it, expensive though 'tis."

I'sai suggests, "Ask her. Seems they know each other from the Hall." Swim
on its own: he jiggles it once. "This is... well. I'm tempted to take bets
on just how much Myk'll laugh when he hears, but there are some things one
oughtn't to do to one's weyrmate..." Talisha and the hot pants, anyone?

"However it works, it's scary," Kerry offers quietly, leaning back a bit,
sounding a bit vague. It's easy to get vague about swimming underwear.

Kassima suggests in a murmur, "You could always model it for him. I'm sure
he'd be... thrilled." Uh-huh. "Assuming you can figure out how to get, err,
into it. Which probably sounds bad in some way."

"Mmm," says Is. And then, all of a sudden smiling, "Why don't I wish you
two a good night? He's bound to be home soon - "

Kerwin just shakes his head at Kassima, and then nods to Kerwin, clambering
up to his feet from the chair. "There's still a few cookies left, for him.
But if you need anymore, sir, I can always manage finding cookies and stuff."

Kassima eyes that smile suspiciously, but does admit, "As long as we've
been here, I for one should be getting back--though nay doubt Lyss is
loathe to abandon the ledge and company. You're sure you're nay going
t'throw that thing at us from behind when we turn t'be going or aught?"
Aiyeee, attack fish! "And you'll give regards t'Myk? Don't tempt me t'be
taking you up on that if'n Is doesn't, Kerry."

"Thank you - I'm sure that'll help sat... I'm sure he'll like 'em," I'sai
substitutes. "And I'll not toss it to you or at you. This time. Promise.
Unless something else stranger happens, I suppose. Regards. Regards and
cookies. It's the least I can do," and even goes so far as to stand with
them, and to shake the glowbasket to better light their way past
sound-asleep Taralyth and out.

"I think we can run quicker than the fish can fly," Kerwin decides in a
quiet aside to Kassima, and does indeed look prepared to flee if need be.
He offers a polite half-bow of head and shoulders, "Good evening, sir,"
before presumably heading out along with Kassima.

"Let's *hope* so," Kassi murmurs back, looking momentarily tensed to run
indeed as she gets up from her chair. "G'night, Is; I hope you enjoy your
new toy," and with that she does make haste out before anything can fly her
way.

The twisting tunnel soon leads to the ledge proper.