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Mother Gossip


Date:  August 29, 2002
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Lake Shore
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 log's fairly short and not terribly important, but
kind of fun.  P'tod, brown Semeth's rider, has recently transferred from
Ista to Telgar, where he lived prior to his Impression.  Kassi knew him
as Ptodek--but now he's forever branded in her mind as 'that brownrider
who slept with and got dumped by my daughter.'  They exchange some 
gossip in this scene, and Kassi gets another clue or two as to just 
what went on with Kaylira.

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The Log:

Semeth flies in from above and lands in the waters of the lake.

P'tod swings his leg over Semeth's neck and slides to the ground.

Out in the Lake, a dark shape marks where Lysseth is floating--and fishing,
as her submerged head and the occasional rise with a glint of silver
between her teeth might bear out. Kassi's propped her back up against a
rock, a sheaf of hides on her lap and a stylus tapping at them. "G'deve,"
she calls automatically without, yet, looking up to see who's here; she's
still wrapped up in making a face at that top hide.

"Kassima!" P'tod's pleased to recognize the rider, and strides over as soon
as he's dismounted to greet her. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How've you
been? And Lysseth?" Semeth, as soon as his rider is well out of the way,
bugles happily and starts lumbering for the water at great speed for his
size. P'tod whirls around when he realizes what the brown is about and
dashes after him, yelping, "Wait! STOP! Your harness! Semeth!"

Kassima's immediate reply--"P'tod?"--is surprised, and gets her to look up
from the hide indeed; surprise fades within a beat, though. "Oh, that's
right, you're *here* now--awhile is a word; I don't know if'n I've seen you
since Kaylira's Weyrling graduation." There's a note of drollness in her
daughter's name. "But we're well enough. Productively engaged, as you
can...." She trails off as Semeth starts for the water, evidently finding
this a very good time to cover her mouth and pretend a need to cough. It
hides the snickers.

Semeth grudgingly stops at the water's edge to let P'tod remove the riding
straps, ducking his head helpfully. P'tod gives him a good smack on the
shoulder, rolling his eyes as he throws the straps over his shoulder and
starts back up to where Kassima is. "Mudlump. /Now/ you can go in the
water," he's heard to say to his dragon. He dumps the straps on the ground
and grins sheepishly at Kassima. "He misses the beach, I guess," he says.
"I'm not interrupting anything important, I hope?"

Kassima returns that grin, though hers is more amused than sheepish; she
reaches to tug Lysseth's abandoned straps closer to herself, the better to
ensure that the respective tangles of leather stay separate. "Can't say I
blame him. He'll probably have you dragging him t'Boll or some place at any
given opportunity, if'n he doesn't already--seems t'be what half the
dragons here do, the Sky-Lady being nay exception. Depends on how important
you count scowling at Ylysse's handwriting. Methinks the world can go on
for awhile if'n I postpone it and indulge in a good scowlfest later."
Setting her stylus down, she asks, "How're you two settling in?"

P'tod waggles his hand from side to side. "Moving is tough when you've had
as many turns to get settled in as I had at Ista. And things are so
different. But at least you guys don't eat fish all the time." He grins.

"I can rather sympathize." Kassi's at once rueful and droll. "Having had
t'move once m'self. At least 'twill be easier when I retire back there, by
m'reckoning. Pshhh--we don't if'n we can *help* it, but don't let the
Bakers hear you say that! They had us on an all-fish diet a few Turns ago.
I ended up going t'Holds and Halls for dinner t'be escaping it. Can't
imagine how you stood it at Ista."

P'tod stuffs his hands in his pockets. "All fish? Here? Wow. Why was that?"
he wonders. "And, we weren't always /all/ fish, but you know, having to get
livestock by boat, you can't afford to slaughter them as often. And the
dragons eat up a lot."

Kassima takes a turn at sheepishness: "I'm nay quite certain. I didn't
spend much time out and about then, or listen much t'gossip--the children
and the Wing held all m'attention. I'm certain I'sai could tell you the
story, though. He's still in horror of fish to this day." From her tone,
she doesn't blame him. "Faranth, they do. And I should have recalled that
Ista's the home of those famous aphrodisiac peppers, so you couldn't be
*all* fish any road."

P'tod laughs. "Aphrodisiac peppers. Well, they've got a lot of different
kinds, that's for sure, although most of them are so hot you take six
glasses of water to get back to feeling normal. I stayed away from 'em
myself, never ran into any aphrodisiac ones."

"The red ones," Kassi clarifies, almost wistfully. "'Twas going t'get a
load of those t'put in Mart's food one day--as a trick, you understand, nay
a seduction attempt. We were going t'feed him oysters and stuffed mushrooms
and aught else we could think of that might do the trick... and then run
and hide, most likely. But I'm digressing. Love the peppers m'self; Ofira
made a lovely pepper salad when she was here. But I can't say I ever found
aught all that stimulating about 'em either."

P'tod coughs. "What did you expect he'd do once he... ate them?" he
wonders, trying not to laugh.

Kassima's answer is downright blissful: "Embarrass himself terribly and
give us blackmail material t'last *Turns*, a'course. What a show 'twould
have been!"

P'tod eyes Kassima, and makes a show of edging away. "Should I just
barricade myself in my weyr now?"

Kassima gives an emphatic shake of her head. "Oh, there's nay need. You're
nay Mart. You *do* ride brown, so you may be up for a bit of torment,
naturally--but the best things are reserved for Mart. At least when 'tis me
you're speaking of. I can't swear that any other greenriders won't make you
primary target."

P'tod chuckles. "Well, maybe I should bribe you to warn me who to watch out
for, and so forth," he proposes.

Kassima considers him, taking up her stylus again to tap it against her
chin. "That might be depending on what you want t'avoid. D'you just want
t'miss out on violence and pranking, or do you also nay want women or men
throwing themselves in your lap, or...?"

P'tod's mouth opens, then he grins. "Well, I wouldn't mind the occasional
woman throwing herself in my lap, I imagine."

"Why," Kassi asks herself rhetorically, "am I nay surprised? Y'know that
sometime I'm going t'have t'be grilling you on when Kaylira threw herself
in your lap, I hope. But mayhaps nay today. I'll wait until you've settled
in better. And aren't expecting it. Well, then; be sure t'be around
Kichevio and Teryla when they're proddy, and you should have your wish.
Kich, you may nay even have t'wait for proddiness; it may depend. She's
been in L'han's lap when nay proddy, so mayhaps if'n you wore a kilt...."

P'tod rolls his eyes. "Well, she ended up being pretty lap-happy!" he
points out. "...L'han. Isn't he that one who...? Yeah." He doesn't finish
his question, just smirks a little.

Kassima allows easily enough, "She did. And between you and me, I might've
been happier if'n she'd stuck t'yours; at least you're younger than me. But
by all accounts she's happy, so...." One shoulder lifts, drops. "There are
too many ways t'be finishing that sentence for me t'know which one you mean
without your saying it," the greenrider points out.

P'tod shrugs. "Whatever floats her boat," he says in a clipped voice. "As
to L'han... ah, just heard some stuff, about him at 'Reaches, dunno if it's
true or not. So, you know, probably best not to say anything." We wouldn't
want to pass on /rumours/, would we?

Kassima slants a long, considering look at him. Perhaps it's a rare show of
mercy that she abandons the subject. "You can be asking Ursa if'n there's
truth you're wanting--she's his lady, or near enough, and I'm sure she'd be
pleased t'defuse rumors." Pause. "Or mayhaps give the truth to 'em, this
being L'han. Mind you, 'tis *possible* I could tell you. If'n you wanted
t'share." Are you kidding? Of course we would.

P'tod shakes his head. "I'm not at all sure of my source. I didn't realize
he was involved with Ursa. She just replaced Maylia as Weyrlingmaster,
didn't she? I was surprised to hear of it anyway, I suppose Maylia had been
in the position for a long time and it does get wearing."

"She did," is Kassi's confirmation, accompanied by a nod. "And Maylia was a
cracking fine Weyrlingmaster. I doubt the Weyrleaders wanted t'part with
her--they'd have t'be mad--but she'd had her fill and 'twas lucky enough
t'snag her for m'self. Mind you, I lost Ursa in the bargain, but she'll
come back someday. Eventually. He and Ursa have been together since he got
here, nearly; they've a wee son, in fact."

P'tod's eyebrows lift in surprise at that news, but he just nods. "Yes,
I've the greatest respect for Maylia. Weyrleaders don't always get much
choice in such matters, though." He reaches up to rub at the back of his
neck. "I don't know Ursa that well, but if she trained with you."

Kassima smiles at this, seeming rather proud. "As well everyone should. Of
all m'mentees, methinks she's made me proudest thus far--but Yashira may
outdo her in time, or one of the others might yet beat her. You never can
be telling. Ursa's a fine lady." She's firm on this, evidently. "Nay that
I'd say other of a clutchmate, but even so. She's strong. Duty-bound. A
good mother, I'd say, as riders go."

"That's good," P'tod says, nodding. "Yashira? I haven't met her yet. Who's
her dragon?"

Kassima answers, leaning back against her rock, "Brown Decarath. One of
Cariath's last clutch, sired by Ursa's brown as it happens. She's a strong
lady. Would be; she's one of mine--and finally off maternity leave, thanks
be t'Faranth."

P'tod shakes his head a bit. "You Telgari are a fertile lot, aren't you?"

"A'course." Kassi's the very picture of pride. "Particularly Thunderbolt.
We're the Spawning Wing, y'know! There are nay more virile men or fecund
women than those who've flown with us." She pauses. "Well. Except Is. But I
*tried* t'get him away from Mart, and one of these days I'll coax him over
to the dark side. Wait and be seeing."

P'tod laughs. "Yeah, I think I'sai is probably the most productive this
side of the continent. Though J'cot has him beat, I believe." He grins
broadly, Istan pride and all that.

Kassima makes a face. "So I've heard. I even heard tell that
Jaeleka--shells, is that true? I somehow never imagined Jazmin would end up
grandmother t'J'cot-spawn. Especially since methinks she's his junior!"

"Jazmin is?" P'tod asks, with a half-suppressed snicker. "Well, it doesn't
surprise me. I guess the only thing that does, is that so many of these
young women go for it. I don't really understand the appeal myself." He
wrinkles his nose.

"Jazmin's Jaeleka's mother." Kassi makes another face. "And given that she
was m'Searchrider, I still find it surreal t'think of her as having
grandchildren. I'm sure she's thrilled, mind... what, the appeal of J'cot,
or the appeal of spawning? I'd think you'd understand *that*. You've certes
enough of your own."

"No, no!" P'tod puts his hands up. "I meant of J'cot. I mean, he's so...
old!" And wouldn't any female in her right mind prefer a young, virile male
like... ahem.

The look that Kassi gives him this time is droll. "'Tis a sharding good
thing that he's quite a number of Turns m'senior, or I just might be taking
offense. As it happens, I agree with you on this one--at least where Kay's
concerned. Valenth's Lysseth's sire, y'know. There always seemed something
nearly incestuous about the idea of her lying with him, at least t'me."

P'tod smacks his forehead at the mention of Lysseth's ancestry. "I hadn't
realized. Mercy. Well. I'd've probably flayed both of them, too, at least
if anything along those lines had happened while she was in my jurisdiction."

"'Tis rather surreal," Kassi admits, rubbing her neck. "Just as well that
things turned out as they did. Well, but 'tis rambling I am. I do
appreciate your indulging a bit of a mother's curiosity."

P'tod smiles. "Hey, no problem. I'd better get out and scrub Semeth up.
He's itching to have his bath /right now/." He waves and starts to trot off
toward the lake.

"Have fun!" Kassima calls after the brownrider, tugging her stylus down
from her ear to start on her work again. "And don't let him dunk you--the
water's probably too sharding cold!"