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Good News, Bad News


Date:  June 7, 2002
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Skyspace; South Boll's Gather Beach and Lava 
Lounge
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:  Pern doesn't have Pokemon (thank goodness), and so Kassi
must resort to trying to collect all of her clutchmates instead!  A 
certain scheme of hers having come to fruition, she invites Ursa to 
her favorite drinking spot in order to give the brownrider a bit of 
news... and if she happens to indulge in a bit of teasing of her old
friend, who can really blame her?  (Apart, perhaps, from poor, 
slandered Rulyn.)

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The Log:

Lysseth> Spineth senses that Lysseth extends a spike of thought,
crystalline and faintly electric: << My rider would know, are you and your
rider free to accompany her somewhere? She had a matter she wished to
discuss with yours, and thought that Boll might be a more pleasant setting
than here. >> Not that Lysseth the beach-lover would have had anything to
do with that decision. Oh, no.

Dragon> Spineth bespoke Lysseth with << We will join you in the skies
shortly. >>

You leave the workroom and head out into the bowl.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly.
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered
foreleg.

<*> 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 into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor
to carry you aloft.

The rim of the bowl falls away from you and you soar into the open skies.

<*> Spineth flies up from the northern half of the bowl.

<*> Lysseth warbles a greeting to her clutchmate, pitched to carry across
the skies; once this is done, she breaks from her patient circling to rise
two beats' worth before disappearing into *between*.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

Between
You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear
nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> Spineth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

You wing down onto the gather beach.

<*> Spineth backwings to a landing.

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.

Ursa climbs carefully down with the assistance of Spineth's extended forelimb.

Kassima slides from her straps almost as soon as Lysseth lands. The sooner
out of her heavy jacket and cap the better, apparently; she works the
buckles as fast as she can, and sighs when they're safely hung from hooks
on Lysseth's straps. "I love Boll," she says ruefully, "but coming from
Telgar's climate t'this always leaves me sweltering. We didn't interrupt
aught with Lyss's request of Spineth, did we?"

Ursa pauses, as always, as she dismounts, lingering by Spineth's side, her
hand on his hide. The brown regards her with calm regard. Her flight gear,
too, is left behind. "Not at all," Ursa responds. "I'd just finished
nursing Storm to sleep.

Lysseth's imperious rumble summons Kassima to perform a certain unburdening
service, so her gear ends up in the sand with the straps anyway. Once free
of her encumberance, the green stretches out so that she lies on her
stomach in the warm sand, each wing spread to its full extension so that
the dark surfaces may be warmed too. "Never heard of aught called
'dignity,' have you?" her rider demands fondly before turning back to Ursa.
"Glad I am t'be hearing that. Care t'head to the Lounge rather than here?
Nay that I've aught against Boll's beach, only it lacks as many comfortable
places t'sit and 'tis a pain t'get sand grains up your pants."

Ursa had fully intended to leave. Spineth's. straps. on. However, Lysseth
is free, and Spineth's face is in Ursa's face, practically, demanding. So
Ursa sets to work, freeing Spineth of his straps, as well. "I'm quite happy
to keep my pants sand-free," says the former Igenite. "You lead the way."

Kassima's mouth corners quirk as she struggles in vain to keep her
amusement from showing on her face. "You tell her, Spineth," she encourages
the brown. Helpful greenrider, this one. "All right, then--and here's
hoping they've cleared more room on the walls--"

You wander up the jungle path.

You push aside some creepers and enter a hidden cave.

You climb up the crude ladder and disappear from view.

Ursa climbs up from the caves below.

Ursa follows Kassi in. "It's been /turns/ since I've been here," the
brownrider muses. "Turns." She looks at her clutchmate, suddenly, and
drawls, somewhat bemused. "I heard mention of my son performing some
unspeakable acts for a goldrider. No details. Did you bring me here to
break the news?"

Kassima tugs out an empty chair en route to the bar, though she doesn't sit
in it just yet; no, drinks come first. "I didn't come here t'singe off your
eyebrows today," she assures Marcus, whose vaguely wary expression doesn't
shift a whit at this news. "A Green for starters, would you, Marcus?
Thankee...." Leaving her elbow leaned against the bar's surface, she looks
back towards Ursa and nods. It's a grave nod. Her eyes are quite dark, and
quite solemn. "Aye, I fear 'tis serious news I have t'break t'you. That's
why I really wanted t'be coming here. A strong drink might help you t'be
taking it."

Ursa's gaze goes directly to the bartender's eyebrows at that comment. "A
strong drink, eh?" asks Ursa. "What would you recommend, Kassi? Shall I be
predictable and get a brown?"

Kassima shakes her head vehemently. "Faranth, nay! They put *things* in the
Brown Dragon--things you don't want t'be knowing about; I got the recipe
out of Marcus once, and I've never ceased regretting the knowledge.
Besides, 'tisn't strong enough. A Thread might be best."

Ursa looks at her old friend. "A Thread? Are you truly trying to plot my
downfall? I want to walk out of this place upright."

"I only thought it might be making it easier t'take the news," Kassi
demurs, "but if'n you wish--a Sea Spike *might* be enough. Mayhaps. Only
don't blame me if'n you regret lacking the numb of true alcohol."

Ursa looks at Marcus. "A Sea Spike," says she. "Whatever it is, sounds like
I at least want to remember the news."

When she has her Green Dragon, Kassi retreats to that chair she pulled out
earlier, gesturing an invitation for Ursa to take the one across from it.
"There's bad news, and there's good news. I'll start with the bad news,
if'n 'tis all right?"

Ursa takes her own drink and follows. She's eying her clutchmate with a
curious expression, not sure how to take this talk of bad news. She plunks
into a chair and responds cautiously, "Sure. Bad news."

Kassima doesn't speak right away. She sips at her drink first--needing the
fortification of alcohol, perhaps. Finally, she sets the glass down,
steeples her fingers, and regards her clutchmate with a serious expression.
"The bad news, then. Rulyn's been removed from the Candidate roster at
Igen. They caught him in bed with two people, and aye, one was a
goldrider... but the other. Well." She takes a breath. "The other was
L'han. They're--well. They're in love, Ursa. Madly, desperately in love.
Rulyn told V'dan--I sent him t'check up on him, y'know--that he realized
his earlier fear of L'han was just nervousness... you know how lads can be
with their first love. They're going t'weyrmate, only they're both afraid
t'be telling you about it. Rulyn worries you won't like the idea of Storm
becoming his son-by-weyrmating as well as his brother, I suppose. Can't say
I *blame* him."

Ursa grips the sea-sparkly-whatever drink rather firmly, threatening to
squeeze it to pieces. "You're telling me," begins Ursa, "That all this
happened, and I wasn't informed, and you sent /V'tan/ off to talk to him?"
Ursa is not quick to panic, and she's, frankly, suspicious. She hasn't
touched that sea-foam, either.

"I didn't *know* about it when I asked V'dan t'talk with him," Kassi feels
obliged to point up, picking up her glass again but not drinking from it
just yet. She remains very straight-faced and solemn, though there's a note
of protest in her voice. "V'dan's the one who learned! And 'tweren't
informed, I presume, because Rulyn's too ashamed, and L'han's afraid you'll
lop off some important piece of his. Anyway, I knew when I heard it that
you *should* be told. I'd certes want t'know if'n 'twas m'son...." Raising
her goblet to her lips, she asks, "Now d'you want t'be hearing the good news?"

Ursa says straight out, "Oh, I'll be lopping off some important piece of
his sooner or later, may as well get it over with now." Ursa takes a deep
breath, she seems to be attempting to process this information, and grips
the sea-weed with both hands. Still hasn't taken a drink of it. "Oh, sure,
the good news?"

Kassima *does* drink now, a long, slow, leisurely sip, and she leans back
to savor the taste. Only when she's judged the pause to have gone on long
enough does she answer quite blithely: "Every last thing I just told you is
a lie, and I only said it t'be making the idea of a Wing change seem tame
in comparison. Aren't you going t'drink your Spike?"

Ursa looks down at her Spike, as if she hadn't even known it was there.
"You certainly have earned your evil greenrider badge," she concedes,
laughing now. "That /was/ a tale to chill the bones. What does it say about
my lover?" she asks with a smile, "That I'd hardly wish him upon my own
son?" NOW she takes a drink. "So. Now that you've got me shaking, tell me
about wing changes."

Marcus grins and pours Ursa the drink.

Marcus places a glass of Sea Spike in front of Ursa.

Kassima permits herself a well-pleased grin now. "Thankee," she replies
with a laugh of her own, "you flatter me! But I learned from the best, so
'twould be sad if'n I *hadn't* earned it--well, would it help if'n I said
I'd nay wish any of m'sorry number of lovers on m'children either? Which
might have something t'do with the fact that the idea of 'em with lovers
still vaguely disturbs me, but that's beside the point." Propping her
boot-heels up on the table in front of her, she gets down to what's
presumably the real business: "You've been in Aerie for a time now, if'n
memory's serving. Since your last Wingleadership, 'tis nay so?"

Ursa's long drink of the sea-nifty leaves her with her eyes popping open
wide. Something she eventually gets over, and she nods. "Since I left
Firemist. Twas a relief to just *ride* after that."

"I can be imagining," Kassi murmurs, swirling the green liquor around in
its cup. "Anyway. Having flown in it so long, y'know that Aerie can be a
bit of a... relaxed Wing, nay called t'Fall as oft as some of the others.
But it seems t'me after seeing how you fared as Assistant Weyrlingmaster
that there's nay reason for you t'be in Aerie. Y'might be faring better in
one of our oft-fighting Wings--what think you?"

[Editor's Note:  Kassi's assertion in this pose was based on the
impression I've received of Aerie from others' RP over the years;
however, it may or may not be accurate, and if not then it can be
chalked up to Kassi listening to too many rumors from proud riders
certain that all Wings but theirs are a bit inferior. ;) ]

Ursa ponders this. "I've not found Aerie too relaxed," she says. "Though
it's true, it's not on the front as much. Still, I never felt like Spineth
and I were getting any sort of break these turns, other than having passed
on the burden of leadership. We fight where we're needed," she finally
says. "Just what are you driving at, anyhow?"

"I could be wrong about that," Kassi admits, after a long pause for
thought. "I don't oft have contact with Aerie or its riders, at least nay
as oft as some of the other Wings--Thunderbolt doesn't ever drill with
'em." She permits herself a wry grin. "Mayhaps I should be trying t'watch
its drills more, and listening t'gossip less. Welladay. 'Twas *going* t'be
offering you this," and with a wiggle of fingers, she seems to produce a
diamond-shaped leather patch from nowhere, "but if'n you think that Aerie's
where you need t'be...."

Ursa sets down her now-empty sea-spiffy, to throw her head back and laugh.
"Kassi," she drawls. "I've flown for Skyfire, Dawnslight, Aerie, and
Firemist. While your job has been to remain with Thunderbolt, mine seems to
have been to move from wing to wing. If you're offering me a spot in
Thunderbolt, I'd be more than honoured to accept."

Kassima relaxes into a grin at her clutchmate's laugh. "And here I was
starting t'think you might be refusing!" Offering the patch, which is
indeed emblazoned with Thunderbolt's tri-colored sigil, she admits, "We
could be using a strong brown, and while I hate t'poach in Teyal's
territory so t'speak... flying with Thunderbolt's nay as traumatizing as
L'han as your son-by-weyrmating, I hope?"

Ursa rolls her eyes. "Not as traumatizing," she says, taking the patch, and
inspecting it with interest. "and I'd be interested to fly with another
wing. You know, though, I've not fought Thread since the eggs were
clutched. Spineth and I will may be a little rusty, though we've been
training and drilling along with the weyrlings, so we're not useless."

Kassima curls her hands around her now-mostly-emptied glass. "'Tis
generally m'way with riders new to the Wing t'ask 'em t'fly all drills with
us, but nay Thread, until they're adept in our patterns--we aren't so
different from other Wings that I think 'twill have much trouble, but 'tis
also useful for letting the others in the Wing adjust to the change in
formation. Truth, 'tis a fortuitous time since I should shortly have other
new riders t'be bringing in; everyone's already poised for changes, I
should hope."

Ursa bobs her head. "I'm not worrying too much, but I could use the
transition time. And it's nice to have a good group of new riders coming
in, so I'm not sticking out as the only one."

"Methinks you'll be well-pleased with which of your former charges you'll
be flying with. Though I'll nay say more. Y'know how rumor flies in a Weyr;
probably there's a spy hidden under one of the tables." Said quite as if
Kassi herself is innocent of gossipmongering. "Well, then all is well. We
have drills at varying times of day; the schedule's posted with the duty
rosters, and tomorrow's is at dawn, so be ready. Since you're m'clutchmate
and all, 'twill be kind and waive m'usual spiel about how now you need
t'spawn plenty of children t'keep up our reputation."

Ursa just snorts at that one. "Well, thanks," she drawls. "I think I've
spawned my plenty." Then she asks, "So, by-the-way, do you know what
started the rumour about Rulyn and a goldrider?"

"I daresay you could be spawning more'n two," Kassi has to point out, being
Kassi. "Eight might be beyond reach, but y'never know... oh. That." Her
hesitance this time is more genuine. "Well--this is rumor, you understand,
since I've nay been t'Igen m'self and haven't spoken t'anyone who actually
*saw* it, but V'dan said he heard something about Rulyn flexing and
preening for a proddy goldrider. Junni, I suppose, since Tasieth's just
risen."

Ursa shakes her head. "I think I would have rather not known," she says,
though she doesn't sound too tramatized.

Kassima defends, "You did ask! Anyway, I'd nay blame the lad too
much--proddy riders, well, sometimes 'tis safest t'be appeasing 'em... I do
know what you mean, though. *I* could've lived without knowing that
m'daughter's bedding her Weyrleader. Who's got t'be older than I am. But
some things are hard t'avoid hearing about."

Ursa laughs, now. "It's true--the lad surely knows that it's better to just
*do*, sometimes, when faced with a proddy rider." And Ursa doesn't look at
Kassima at /all/ at mention of proddy rider, no she doesn't. "He's learned
that lesson well, I'm sure."

"Mayhaps I should try asking young men t'be flexing for m'amusement when
Lysseth rises next. They might just oblige me." Kassi can mock her own
proddiness as well as anyone else could, and raises her emptied glass to
the thought. "Alas! I'm unlikely t'be thinking of it, more's the pity. Such
things rarely occur t'me then. Still, since your son's reportedly in good
health and sound of limb, he's likely learned it to perfection."

Ursa now mentions, fingering her patch, "Wingleader, those eggs will be
hatching any time, now. What's your policy on frantic brownriders quitting
middrill to run off and see their eldest son stand in their desert homeland?"

Kassima suggests dryly, "You can still call me Kassi, y'know. M'policy on
Hatching days is that drills will be cancelled if'n a Hatching occurs
either during or a'fore 'em; persons riding sweeps will *nay* be excused,
but are permitted t'be arranging for a duty-swap with a Wingmate if'n they
can find any amiable. All other duties can be cancelled save in case of
emergency. I figure Hatchings are too special a time for riders t'be
keeping any of us from 'em needlessly. So just make sure there's someone
willing t'step up and take sweeps for you if'n you should be on those when
the humming starts, and you should be fine."

Kassima adds, "Amelyssan would be m'suggestion for who t'ask. And since
you're his mother and I've a certain sympathy with that role, 'twill try
t'arrange errands and watchriding and such for you instead of sweeps until
the time, though you know I can't be promising aught."

Ursa makes a note of that name. "Thanks. Since I'm new to the wing," how
much newer can she get? "it's nice to have a suggestion. And I'm certainly
not expecting special treatment, but do appreciate the understanding."

Kassima shakes her head at that. "'Tis nay more special treatment than any
mother of a Standing child gets; you can be asking Alicienne if'n you doubt
me. Trust me, I'll get it out of your hide in other ways. Probably put you
up for sweeps with L'cher at least once after the Hatching."

Ursa bobs her head. "You'll get it out of me," she agrees. "But sweeps with
L'cher. Is it too late to go back to Aerie?" she teases.

Kassima only grins, and pushes herself to her feet. "A bit, I fear. But
take heart! He *might* nay try t'seduce anyone at whatever Hold you fly
over. If'n you're lucky." Digging in her mark pouch, she produces the
amount needed to pay for both drinks, and ambles over to give this to
Marcus. "But speaking of late, and going back, we likely should get back to
the Weyr. Another time we'll have t'come out and drink in truth, hey?"

[Editor's Note:  At this point, Ursa had to dash, so the scene ends
here. :) ]