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Gimp-Daddy


Date:  August 23, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Outer Infirmary
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:  The title of this log is *all I'sai's fault*. ;)  
Fortunately, no leather masks were involved in any way in this RP,
in which I'sai stops by the Infirmary to deliver a Turnday gift to
a certain dark-haired daughter.  (There's a bit of a timewarp here:
Kiss's Turnday was a few days before the IC date on which the scene
fell.)  Beyond that very spiffy present, there's conversation about
Kiss's future and the present Candidacy of Lanisa and Alain, and an
all-too-fitting proposition for what Kaisan might be when *he* 
grows up.  I enjoyed this a lot--thanks again, Is. :)

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The Log:

I'sai walks in from outside the room.

Kassima, at some point or another--and likely a very early point, knowing
her--badger and cajole the Healers into giving up one of their instrument
tables for her use, setting it up near the couch Lysseth's claimed as her
own since the Fall; not that injured, the dragon, but leave her rider alone
to the Infirmary's tender mercies? Never. And so now Kassi has a surface
ideal for playing chess on, and an ideal partner for good measure. Kiss's
dark-curled head is bent over the board, thinking. "How do you *do* that?"
she finally asks, looking up and making a face. "After the last game--" But
her mother only grins.

Tap-step tap-step tap-step - that'd be I'sai, gimping in with his cane; no
doubt the heavy-looking sack he carries with his free hand doesn't hurt.
"Hey," he says, giving Kassima a swift smile before leaning over Kisai's
shoulder to assess the board. "Take a look at... that piece, there," he
suggests without giving further details.

[Editor's Note:  I'll leave in some descage, to illustrate the
injured state of our poor dubious heroes. ;) ]


I'sai:
     I'sai's slanty brows are half-hidden now, his weatherstreaked blond
hair recently cut short for the first time in Turns. Loose waves descend,
clipped with increasing closeness, past sharp cheekbones and sharper jaw to
become bare velvet at his nape. His nose is thin, and longer than it ought
to be; his eyes reflect pale, guileless marine bounded narrowly by
turquoise; his fair skin, though more prone to freckle than tan, has
renewed its warm sun-gleam; and his height's as unremarkable as his Turns. 
     He wears an old sweater several sizes too large, a dull off-white,
that barely shows the blue shirt's collar beneath and hangs well past where
loose cloth pants begin. The pants bulge over his right thigh and the
bandages beneath, but at least he's back in boots. (+detail)


Kassima:
	Kassima is a woman gifted magnanimously by genetics: one would likely
guess her to be younger than her actual age thanks to high cheekbones and a
brow lines dare not touch, and metabolism and height have both dealt a good
hand in her slender 5'10" build. Her fine-boned features are framed by a
black river braided and confined, allowed free only in the wayward
forelock; there, it threatens to dangle into canted eyes the color of
emeralds in shadow. A shrewd glint lightens these even when mirth does not,
and the well-shaped brows above lend eloquence through their mobility.
	Kassi seems to be in reasonable health and condition. She is strong 
and fit, though as pale in complexion as Telgar's snows; shadows may 
sometimes ring her eyes, but they shine for all of that. She currently 
wears a peacock blue blouse and black slacks that have become careworn in 
their Turns-long service. A pouch and wherry skewer hang from her 
ornamented belt; the glints of metal at her fingers (+detail available) 
suggest that she likes jewelry.
	On one shoulder of her exquisitely crafted riding jacket is the black 
and white knot of a Telgar Wingleader, with a thin cord of red to honor her
Benden Weyr origins and a strand of grey-green to show the color of her
lifemate, Lysseth. The patch on the other shoulder identifies her as the
leader of Thunderbolt Wing.
	The upper right leg of her slacks is currently distorted by the 
bandaging beneath. Kassi carries this leg rather awkwardly, often resorting 
to a walking stick to help keep it steady and unjarred.


That sound's one Kassi's rapidly coming to recognize, from the clack of her
own stick if not the clack of his, and she looks up to return that smile
with a warm one: hey, yourself. "Dare I hope you're carrying about the
severed heads of Healers again?" she teases, even as Kiss follows her suit
in being distracted from the board. The younger girl's eyes light up.
"Heyla, Papa!" she greets him, pleased, and if the sack gets a quizzical
look from her at her mother's mention of it, at least she doesn't repeat
the question. "--What, the... oh. Oh!" She brightens even more, if
possible, seizing the piece on question and moving it decisively to claim
her mother's rook. "You're evil, Is." Guess which of them says that.

"Not this time - about severed heads, that is, although evilness, that I
won't argue," Is says, and sets that bag down to land with a thunk that
might be slightly exaggerated by a discreet thump of his shoe. "In the
meantime, though, -someone- had a Turnday while her father was laid up."

"How could you?" Kassi asks with a laugh. "The truth is too self-evident."
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all I'sais are created
evil.... She cranes her neck to watch the bag go thump-thump, a knowing
smile crossing her face.

Kisai grins up at her father. "I *told* Egrel you didn't forget--Mum got
Aunt Jirel to take me to Greystones this time, since *she* couldn't go,"
and there's an accusatory look towards her mother there that only amuses
Kassima, if anything. "Had a good time, but I missed you a lot, Papa. It
wasn't the same at all. Is the sack for me?" Shameless child.

"Nah, it's for your little brother. - No, of course the sack's for you,"
I'sai says, and hands her the cords so she can have at it.

The hide sack is bulky, with a tough jute cord and Telgar's symbol scorched
onto the brown leather. It could be any message sack, if it weren't for
that it's better quality - or at least in better shape - than most, and
that that symbol's overpainted with green touched up with blue, and that
the cord is doubled: for easier weight-bearing, perhaps, although someone
not too burly could also sling it across her shoulders. And it's heavy.
Inside, the contents prove to be a pair of... shoes? No, boots. No, _ice
skates_, adjustable to some degree with green and blue laces, with fleecy
interiors and the sturdy, smooth-finished blades that bear a senior
journeyman's mark - and all of it just her size.

Kisai makes a face. "Papa," she protests, "you wouldn't! He doesn't deserve
anything anyway, after he got *clay* in my hair--" But what fascination can
even such an injustice hold, placed up against the wonders of a sack? She
takes them, and studies the bag a moment before pulling it open, her
curiosity getting the better of her. "Oh, oh! Oh, *perfect*!" is her
reaction, just a shade under a yelp of glee. "Papa, how'd you know? They're
gorgeous! And *metal*! I'll be able to skate five times faster than Jinna
now; it's great--" She sets them down long enough to attempt to fling her
arms around him. Wouldn't do to slice him open on those so-well-made
blades, after all. And she still manages to remember to take
increasingly-practiced care lest she jostle his leg.

I'sai grins that much wider at her reaction, and gives her a one-armed hug,
"That's what I was hoping for." Once they come up for air, "Journeyman said
they should work to be transferred to other boots if you outgrow these,
too, and bigger than that, he'll get you a new pair - that's part of the
price. Millek, over at the main Hall."

Kassima watches the gift-giving, relaxed back in her chair to take in the
tableau with an affectionate grin playing about her mouth. "They're
beautiful, Is," she seconds once Kiss has had her say. "And perfect for the
imp. She's been racing the other weyrbrats this winter--which I only found
out last sevenday m'self; seems the brats in question," she says with a
fond look for their own brat, "have been keeping it secret from the
parents. Lest someone object to 'em trying t'break their necks, I suppose."

This is where Kiss would probably make a face at her mother, if she weren't
still wrapped in that hug. She settles for making a face against his shirt.
"Nobody's gotten hurt yet," she promises after. "'Cept for bruises and
stuff, you know, but nobody skates without *those*. Oh, wow, really?" She
beams. Her happiness shades her eyes that more towards blue. "That's really
great, Papa. I *hope* I won't outgrow them, though. My feet are big enough
as-is. Kazy's always teasing me about it."

"Really," I'sai promises. "And big feet're just fine - keep you from
tipping over, after all - and if that brother of yours teases you about
something like that, well, you can always tease him about his -hair-." Over
her head, he winks at Kassima.

Kassima wrinkles her nose at Is, but she's grinning. "Do I ever encourage
contention between *your* children?" she asks in mock-affront. "What have I
done t'you lately? I've been behaving m'self and everything, nay that the
Healers give me that much choice--"

Kisai's expression at this promise is rather dubious, but she doesn't argue
it outright. "I've been told it probably means I'm gonna be tall," she
offers instead. "*That'd* be fine. I'm already taller than most of my
friends--see! I knew I couldn't be alone in thinking his hair looks like a
mop." Kassi indulges in an eye-roll and amused headshake.

"Just getting some ground for later," I'sai teases. "And tall, hey, tall's
good too. You can reach for things, and all that. Ever tried turning him
upside down and doing the floor with him?"

"Which just encourages me t'make use of the ground, doesn't it? Mayhaps I
shouldn't complain," Kassi teases back, eyes laughing. "Y'know, I had the
best idea, talking with Candidates in the Springs. Sometime we should have
a stick-fight. A grand duel for the ages, fit t'send the Bowl itself
t'ringing."

Kisai cannot help but observe, as she's observed of them many times before
and always with this fondness, "You are so *weird*." She generously
includes both parents in that indictment. "Yeah, and I could loom over
people. I'd like to be able to loom. Do you think I could be intimidating,
if I loomed?" she appeals to him. "Actually, no, but that sounds like a
great idea--"

Kassi cuts in to point out, "Pretty sure I could still do that trick with
*you* if'n I really tried, m'dear, t'avenge his honor. Keep that in mind."

"Yeah, yeah, but it's more fun if you won, and there goes the drama," I'sai
points out. "Loom. Sure. You could be, especially if your mother teaches
you about knives."

Kassima wants to know, "Why more fun if'n I won? You could win, t'prove
your manly prowess or suchlike, and they could write ballads about it. Then
more ballads, when we have the rematch that I swore t'pursue until the end
of days if'n need be in order t'avenge m'honor. Classic stuff."

Kisai's sudden grin is a little wicked. "She already has, some. Did I ever
show you? I want to make men squeak someday--it sounds like such *fun*."

Kassima adds after a moment, brightly, "I'm very big on this honor-avenging
concept today, apparently. Must be all the dealing with Healers. It certes
makes me want t'avenge *something*."

"Eh," says I'sai. Evidently he's not particularly worried about said manly
prowess. "Revenging and avenging and such sound entertaining, though.
Anyone else need it? - And no, you didn't show me, sprite. Hmm. I wonder if
I should call you sprite if you get to be taller than I am. It could happen."

Kassima taps her lower lip in a show of thought. "I'm sure I could think of
*someone*. Aside from Kiss's vengeance on Kai for that clay in the hair she
mentioned; methinks 'tis better if'n we stay out of that, don't you?
Conflict of interest and all. How about you--have any revenging you need
help with? One good turn, or return as the case may be, certes deserves
another."

This idea seems to surprise Kisai. "You think? I figured I couldn't be
taller, since Mum isn't... you don't think I'll be the size of that one
Candidate, do you? That might be *too* tall. It'd make hugs very awkward."

"Not -right- at the moment," I'sai says slowly, not -quite- a 'Not in front
of the daughter.' "Although a conflict of interest, that doesn't bother me
any, it all comes out in the wash... and aye, you could be. You know both
your grandparents on my side're taller'n me, could always skip a
generation. But no. Not tall as him. He's nigh on Unca Myk's size, isn't he."

One black brow quirks up, and then the other; but Kassi gives an amenable
nod, having no trouble picking up that message. "Let me know later," she
invites, "if'n you think of any. And you *say* that, but if'n we teach Kai
vengeance, what's t'keep him from vengeance on *us*? I shudder t'think what
he might dream up in that three-Turn-old mind. And if'n we helped him get
revenge on Kiss next, *she* might go after us and that'd just be the horror
of horrors." Her tone of dread is shamelessly exaggerated, likewise her
widened, 'terrified' eyes, but Kisai still looks pleased. Thinking this
over, the girl agrees, "And Grandsire Keyran's tall too, so *maybe*--that'd
be strange, being taller than you. But it could be interesting." She lifts
one hand from tracing the leather of the skates to flap it in a vague
gesture. "I think so. I've only seen him a couple of times, though. I
haven't been hanging out around the Candidates much... you know?"

"It'd be the usual," I'sai says amiably enough. "And see, if we keep him
wreaking vengeance on -others-, he won't have -time- to wreak it on us.
Though Kassi's right, Kisai, we wouldn't want you after us." He shrugs,
one-shouldered. "Could be interesting, yeah. And - yeah. They get kinda
intense, keep to themselves. I'm glad I've had a little more time with you."

"Sometimes," says Kassi, "being the usual makes it nay less worthwhile, as
'twere... you know, this *is* a point. We could bring him up t'be a
full-time avenger. D'you think people would pay him? Would he make a good
profit?" Never one to forget the margin, after all; but that she's
facetious would be clear enough to one who knows her well, if not, perhaps,
the casual stranger. Or disturbed-looking eavesdropping Healer.

Kisai's agreement isn't quite smug, but has enough pride in it to border
there: "My vengeance would be a very *wicked* vengeance. You're right to
fear." Her fleeting grin is decidedly impish. "Just wait 'til the looming
starts. They really do, don't they. It doesn't quite feel like I belong,
around 'em. I'm not sure I *want* to." She slides out of this pensiveness
to say earnestly, "I like having time with you, too, Papa. Would've been
anyway, but--I know I scolded when you got back, but I was worried too. I'm
really glad you're home and safe. Really, really glad."

"As am I," Kassi settles for seconding, simply.

"Sometimes." - "As for profit, he'd just have to have the right training."
I'sai grins at Kisai. "Let me know when you start looming, just in case I
miss it - and I'm glad we're all here, too. And when it comes to belonging
- do you know, yet, what you _want_ to do? Or even what you want to
experiment with; I think we could swing you a student's spot at some
Crafthall or other, if you wanted. Or with the bakers, here, although you'd
be surprising me in that case."

Kassima asks with some interest, "Any notions on where we might get him
that training? I wonder; it might nay be too late t'take up that craft
m'self. I could take lessons right with him." Pity the teacher.

Kisai laughs and slips from her chair, standing at full height--not quite
so tall as them, not yet, but not much more than two inches short. As such,
it's hard for her to loom. Even on tip-toe. But she still gives it a
determined try. "How's that?" she wants to know, rocking back on her heels
and grinning back at her father. "Right. I'll be gladder though when we're
not all *here*; it smells like numbweed in here. Maybe a trip to somewhere
fun? When you're both better? To celebrate?" She shrugs at the question,
but doesn't quite shrug it off. "Oh, I want to be a rider still, I know
that. I don't know, though... I figured I guess that I'd Impress at Telgar,
and I want to stay here, because everybody's here. It's home. But." Kiss
nibbles at her lower lip. "I thought about it, after the others were
Searched. I think that could be... strange. What, you don't think I'd make
a good Baker?"

"Pity the teacher," I'sai says, and steals Kisai's chair so he can grin up
at her, now: had any idea the gimp could move that fast? "Also true. And
fun's good. And - if you're sure about riding, that's one thing. I think
you -could- make a good baker if you wanted to be, it's just the -wanting-
to be that I hadn't thought you wanted."

"Hey!" Kisai didn't think so, apparently. She throws a pout at him, but
it's not very heartfelt. "And when I can't even retaliate by sitting in
your lap and squishing you. *Not* fair, Papa." Which might be why Kassi's
shoulders are shaking in unrepentant mirth as she says it. "Point t'you,"
says the greenrider. "Want a mint-stick, for reward?"

Kisai sticks her tongue out at her mother before turning back to face her
father. "Pretty sure. 'Course, I don't get to decide, do I, but if Kaylira
and maybe Lanisa and Alain, why not me? It's the being a Weyrling part I'm
not sure of. I--well, I don't know if I'd want to have you as
Weyrlingmaster, Papa. Or Mum as Wingleader either, come to that." She
slants him an uncertain look, perhaps to try and gauge whether she's
offended, or whether he understands-- "Well, no, not really. I think I'd
like to make music if I did have to go to a Craft, or maybe do something
with jewelry. Miner, I guess. But I don't feel anything like the calling I
figure 'Saira must have to endure all that Healer-ness."

"Nah, I'll survive without one," I'sai says amiably, "But thanks for
offering. - And, hey, it's not a question of why not you, just why not you
yet, and... yeah. If it's any consolation, I'm not looking forward to even
the possibility of having a child of mine as a weyrling. Pretty much
ignoring it. The only -good- side is that it's Interval. You know your
grandmother'd be pleased to have you at Harper, even if she doesn't -say-
so, as a student or what have you; and as for jewelry, well," and he glints
an amused, slightly sardonic glance at Kassi: takes after -you-.

Kassima cheerfully says, "Suit yourself," and fishes a certain silver case
from a pocket to flip it open and help herself to a stick. Kiss isn't shy
about reaching over to filch one, either.

"I'm not worried," Kiss reassures once it's tucked in her cheek, only
slightly muffled: she, too, has had pratice at the art of talking around
mint-sticks. "Not really worried, not yet... I was at first, some. 'Cause
part of me thought that now that I was *old* enough, of course the dragons
would notice. Maybe even Lyss or Tear, though Mum said that wasn't really
too likely." She hitches up one thin shoulder. "But this way I can run
around without cleaning latrines all day. Seems a good deal to me. You're
not?" Open relief. That he *wasn't* offended, and does seem to understand.
"Yeah. I know you're a great Weyrlingmaster, Papa; you'd have to be, but
I'd really rather be your daughter, and two Turns is an awfully long time.
Do you think she would? I wouldn't be getting in her hair or something?"

Kassi snorts at that look, though her grin doesn't deny it. "As if'n," she
retorts, "you've never, ever worn aught even the least bit sparkly."

I'sai grins slantwise at that filching - "Thanks. And daughter, aye, and
you're quite right about the latrines... and if you get in her hair, well,
it'd serve her right," and I'sai's grin brightens that much more at the
prospect. "Speaking of Taralyth, he's calling - " and he gives up the chair
to limp on out.

I'sai walks out into the bowl.