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The Untold Hazards of Fishing


Date:  March 27, 2003
Place:  Lysseth and Kassima's 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:  Somehow, I just don't think that when Kassi decided to
go fishing one day about a month ago, she foresaw that the trip would
eventually lead to her needing to tell a man she'd not met until that
day that she was carrying his child.  But that's what makes surprise 
the real spice of life, no? ;)  In this log, Ozy pays Kassi a social 
visit and gets hit upside the head with some unexpected news.  And
all those fishing shows on OLN and ESPN?  They become just that much
scarier.

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The Log:

Even though the desc doesn't make much of it, there *is* a separate ledge
outside the weyr proper, honest; Lysseth's lounging on it, curled up in a
ball of greenness so as to better ward off the cold. Kassi, being sane, is
actually inside the brazier-heated weyr, rummaging around in the hidework
pile on her desk. And humming something that sounds suspiciously like 'I've
Got a Theory.' Bunnies, bunnies, it must be bunnies! "You *could* just come
inside instead of filling m'head with 'oh, poor little me, freezing t'death
on the ledge,' y'know," she pauses to comment to her dragon at a
verse-break, loudly enough to probably be heard from outside. "Since what
d'you expect me t'do about it, anyway? Wave m'hand and make the world's
largest sweater appear?"

There's a distant roared exchange of greetings, as Baeth blinks into
existence over the Weyr's bowl. One wing's tilted, and after a moment's
consideration, he swoops down onto the ledge. His wings snap back sharply,
cupping air and making a distinct wooshing sound. It would be quite
debonair if he didn't have to scrabble for his footing on the landing. This
is clearly not a dragon used to making ledge touchdowns, no. On his neck,
O'wyn's wearing actual riding gear, although bright colors at neck and
cuffs imply a quilted lining. "Okay," he announces, even as he's
slide-leaping from Baeth's neck. "This is -not- real weather. Clearly this
weather is some sort of really, really big -joke-, right?" He sounds amused
more than anything else, granted, but he is looking a bit wide-eyed.

Lysseth is good, and does not indulge in too much mockery of this landing.
Okay, so her eyes are just that much bluer, and perhaps spin a little
faster with inner merriment, but her greeting rumble is perfectly amiable
and pleasant. See? No laughing here! The singing from inside breaks off
again, this time to laugh. "Oh, don't I *wish*. You're just lucky. You've
arrived on one of the three days in winter when we *aren't* having a
white-out," Kassi calls as she abandons the desk to cross the weyr and tug
open the entrance-curtain. Well, tug it partially open. Just open enough to
allow passage, really; it's *cold* and she's not an idiot. "C'mon in a'fore
your Southern blood freezes in your veins? Baeth can come in too, if'n he
wants. I'm sure Lyss wouldn't mind loaning her couch to a visitor, would
she now." Well, if anything could make Lyss contrite for her earlier
amusement, that'll do it. She heaves a gusty dragon sigh of put-uponness.

Baeth's rumble in return is more than a little non-plussed. He's friendly
enough, but he's regarding the rock ledge in distinct suspicion. Clearly it
did that to him on purpose. "Lucky?" O'wyn protests laughingly, eyes alight
with amusement. "I'm a frozen lump, and this is -lucky-? Good grief, I fear
the weather more regularly, then, I do at that." He slips in the opening,
looking sheepish. "Thanks. And Baeth says he's fine. Apparently he likes
the cold. Proof, if I needed any, that he's completely insane." Baeth tries
to conceal his own amused look at the sigh, but settles down onto the rock
instead, in something of a sprawl.

The ledge radiates quiet ominousness. Lysseth settles for radiating a
little more amusement before she has mercy and cuts it off. After all,
let's just see her land gracefully in a jungle somewhere. "More lucky than
words can possibly express," Kassima agrees, going for straight-faced and
solemn and, well, missing. By quite a lot. Her eyes are gleaming far too
much as she pulls that curtain back closed. "Shells, there isn't even any
sleet or hail out there, and we get *that* nine nights out of ten! Can't
imagine how you missed it! But by all means, getting t'be less of a frozen
lump would be good--pull up a chair, or rock, or box with a cushion on it?
I've got water on for tea, if'n you'd like some. Or wine lurking about if'n
you'd rather."

Baeth just hmphs softly, a bemused sound, before settling in more
comfortably. O'wyn just shakes his head a moment, with a distinct shiver.
"Great. So you live in a giant ice cube of a land. And this isn't insane,
how?" He suggests, words teasing. "Tea sounds wonderful, if you'd not mind.
It's warm, warm is good." There's an amused sort of headshake. "I'm just
glad I thought to actually grab my jacket. Usually, if it's not Fall, I
don't bother with it." He heads over, considers the seating, and sinks
lightly down onto one of the boxes. "I must sound quite the wimp."

Kassima admits cheerfully, with a good-natured wrinkling of her nose, "'Tis
completely, thoroughly, intensely insane. But have I ever once in the
admittedly limited time you've known me claimed t'be aught else?" She
grins, then nods amiably, and meanders to the pot heating up by the
brazier. "'Tis what I figured you might say, and thus why I made it, so
trust that 'twouldn't mind. Well, 'tis part of why I made it--I'm nay born
to this climate either, so I still remember what that mysterious 'warmth'
thing is and occasionally crave it. And you sound nay more the wimp than I
did when I got here. Or than I still do sometimes, honestly."

"You know, you have a point," O'wyn agrees, with a distinctly entertained
grin. "Ah well, as long as everyone present understands that a lack of
sanity is involved. Although, really, I live on the edge of a cliff where
the previous cottage fell off. I hardly have room to talk." He nods then,
rather sheepish. "I'm glad to know it's not just me, then, and that it's
something more generally common to folks new to the cold. It's chilly at
Honshu too, but frankly I don't get out there much. Which is a shame, the
people are as nice as they can be."

"See? I live in a giant ice cube, you live on the edge of a cliff; I'll
probably freeze t'death, you'll probably fall in your house t'your death.
And then someone will come across the wreckage, and see your feet sticking
out from underneath it, and they'll probably steal your shoes. Methinks
this makes you at *least* as crazy as me." Kassi's openly teasing, her grin
vastly amused indeed when she returns with two clay mugs full of tea and
offers him one. "Hope mint tea's all right with you; 'tis all I had onhand.
'Tisn't remotely just you." She nudges another of the ubiquitous boxes into
a good place for conversation with her foot before settling onto it. "You
should hear some of our Candidates whinge and moan. And, Faranth, even
coming from Benden I thought this place was a fragging nightmare--'tis such
*fun* t'have t'dig yourself out of your weyr every day, really."
Considering her tea, she swirls it around in its mug a bit as if this will
somehow help it cool off. "I'm glad you could make it up, though. 'Twas
nigh worried they'd schedule another of those endless meetings
inconveniently."

"At least," O'wyn agrees, clearly entertained. "Though they're welcome to
my shoes. I'd go barefoot most of the time back home if I could get away
with it more often." He accepts the tea with a bright smile, wrapping his
hands around the mug. "Mint's great," he assures. "It's warm, it is
therefore perfect." He takes a long sip of the mig's contents, before
nodding. "Ah, yeah, it's even colder here than Benden. Though I guess I
could get used to the snow. The caves'd take me longer, though. Although,
well, I don't think I'm running the risk of being transferred anytime soon,
unless I -really- tick off Tel or V'tali." He nods, a little wry. "I was
half-afraid too. Especially with the hatching looming nigh. But thankfully
I managed to sneak in time to myself. All my reports are even in for the
moment, so nobody's likely to bespeak Baeth demanding me back -too- quickly."

Kassima supposes, "'Twould explain how you discovered that business with
the socks and floors, if'n you're prone t'going around without shoes--I
admit, I do that pretty much only at Boll or Shipfish or somewhere else
with a perceptable sun. Since I'm *fond* of m'toes, really. I have nay wish
t'freeze them off." There's a pleased sort of sigh after she finally sips
at the slightly-cooled tea. "Warmth is m'friend. It did occur t'me that you
might like ice-skating, at least; ever tried that? It sounds something like
your floor thing, only more common up here since there isn't that much wood
but Mnementh's relevant bits know there's *plenty* of ice. Here's t'never
being transferred." Her mug gets lifted in a wry, but amused sort of toast.
"And t'Hatchings, I suppose. I'm glad you had the time, since there's
something I needed t'tell you about. Though I'm glad enough for the company
aspect, too, don't get me wrong."

O'wyn's ears are already pink with the cold, but they redden further, and
he looks sheepishly amused. "Ah, yeah. Back when I could get away with
going shoeless more often and all. But yeah, I'd not want to go bare-toed
around here. It's easier where it's warm. It's spring back home. Welcome to
the comedy of switched seasons." He tilts his head faintly. "Can't say as
I've ever tried it, though it does sound kind of fun. I've heard folks
talking about it, before." He lifts his mug in return, with an amused look.
"Here here, and then some. And hatchings, yeah. Here's hoping this one is
less chaotic than the one I stood at, that's for sure." His head tilts once
more. "Something? Is everything okay? But yeah, company's a good thing,
worth even risking freezing to death for."

"I personally don't see why they shouldn't let people run around shoeless
all the time down there, except perhaps during Fall. Since, well, ow. But
'tis so much more relaxing t'pad around barefoot, and then the launderers
wouldn't have t'worry about matching socks or stockings, would they?"
Kassi's tone is mostly facetious, yes, though there's a smidge of
thoughtfulness there, as if she's envisioning the Great Shoeless Weyr as a
plan just crazy enough to work. "*Spring*? Oh, bloody shells, you guys get
*all* the luck. Though there's one thing about winter here I do like: nay
Thread, and fewer drills, so less work for me." After drinking to the
sentiments, the greenrider wonders, "Was yours particularly chaotic? Mass
maulings, Stands Impressions, earthquakes and a dead queen egg, or what?
Oh, everything's fine." She flashes a sheepish, but also vaguely anxious
sort of smile. "Fine. Really, 'tisn't a *bad* thing. At least nay t'me; I
consider it a good thing, only I'm nay sure *you* will, so that worries me
a bit." Yeah, that clarified things right up. The smile brightens a notch
afterwards, though, even though the sheepishness remains. "Methinks that's
the first time anyone's risked freezing t'death for the pleasure of
m'company. I'm flattered. And also wondering if'n you mightn't, after all,
be crazier than me." That part at least is teasing.

"Something to do with the dignity of the Weyr, and so forth and so on,"
O'wyn replies, with an amused look. "Though I think they're more wanting to
keep me from randomly turning flips or something, when guests come by, and
the shoes tend to keep me from doing stuff like that." He nods then,
bemused. "We get Thread turn-round. Once in a while it'll be raining hard
enough to drown it, but that's rare." He nods then, wry. "Flooding. Sands
got hit, and there was pretty much knee deep hot sand-slurry everywhere.
Not my idea of a good time." He's looking a little bewildered now, and
there's a quick glance to the tea, as if it might have an answer. "Ah,
well, um tell me, maybe? So I can find out?" He looks amused. "Maybe I am,
but hey, I'm having fun."

Kassima makes an amused face. "What is it with Weyrleaders thinking the
Weyrs have *dignity*? Have they nay heard aught the Holders have been
saying about us for hundreds of Turns? But I suppose this might be a point,
though now I'm curious as t'just why the shoes are such a hindrance. Unless
they're particularly *heavy* shoes." She immediately flicks his shoes a
curious look. Maybe she's thinking they have lead soles? "We get the rains
occasionally in summer, t'drown, but we usually have t'go meet it anyway.
Just in case. Snow, though, can be relied upon. Gah--*flooding*? And around
eggs? Didn't they sandbag the Hatching Grounds or aught, or wasn't there
time?" It must be mentioned, though, that this whole concept gives an
entertaining mental image of Weyrleader N'oah bitching as each egg Hatches
because he only needed *two* of each color, darn it. She suddenly finds her
own mug of tea quite interesting. Whee! Look at it slosh as she jiggles the
cup! "That's probably a good idea, t'just tell you, since really drawing it
out only makes it worse, right? Right. So, basically, I'm pregnant, and I
forgot to ask, would you like sweetner in that tea?" Bright, visibly
nervous smile.

O'wyn pauses a beat, and then devolves into quiet laughter. "Point. But I
guess I can see it to -some- extent back home, with our political
situation. And it's just that I learned to do all that barefoot, so it's
harder to do it en-shoed, so to speak. I'm used to having more toe
control." He nods then, wry. "We cover anyway, just in case. Folks are
well-waiting for the end of the pass, so we can finally relax some." He
makes a face. "They did their best, but the water was faster than the Weyr
could bag, it was a flash thing." He nods then, wry. "Drawing it out? Kind
of not so good on my nerves." His jaw drops though when you -do- finally
mention it. Pause. Longer pause. "Pregnant pregnant, you mean? Like the bit
with the hormones and the eventually giving birth bit?" Pause. "Um, no.
S'fine without." Yep, he's stunned.

"Ah, aye, with the rebels in the jungles poisoning people and what-all. May
as well nay give 'em more fodder--though that makes it sound like they'd be
rebelling against the Weyr because nay anyone wore shoes, and that? Is a
terribly funny mental image, I'm sorry." Even all anxious and such as she
is, Kassi has to laugh at it, in fact. "That does make some sense, about
the shoes. Or at least I assume it does. Everything acrobatic I know tends
t'be involved in disarming and kicking people, and for this I've always
worn shoes, I admit; goes back to the wanting nay t'lose toes thing. Oh,
methinks I see. Benden supposedly had a flood that threatened the
Grounds--a'fore I ever got there, thankfully, though m'home was hit by the
storm too--but 'twas a slow sort of process." The worry returns to her eyes
at the jaw-dropping, but she still nods. "The whole baby-intensive thing,
aye. If'n there's another kind of pregnant, I don't know what 'tis, so I
couldn't say whether I am or nay. But I'm definitely the baby one." Her
turn for a pause. "Are, um, you all right?"

"Yeah, they can start painting up big slogans, 'Down with the shoeless!'"
Ozy agrees, with a faintly weak sort of chuckle. He's still kind of on the
stunned side, yes. "Ah, yeah. Not to say I've not kicked my brother any
number of times, but usually it was nominally unintentional." He blinks.
And again. And eventually he shakes his head as if to clear it, and begins
snickering quietly. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't laugh. This is just a
-little- surreal. I always wanted kids, but now I'm going to have two,
about what, half a turn apart in age?" He nods, sheepish. "Yeah, fine,
fine. Just kind of...wow, board on the back of the head shocked."

Kassima bobs her head and suggests, "Aye, or 'The shoeless lack soles!'
If'n they're *really* evil rebels." She is, let's face it, never too
preoccupied to miss an opening for a groaner like that. The snickering does
at first earn a distinctly nonplussed and bewildered glance, at least until
it's explained; then she relaxes visibly, tension draining out of her
shoulders. "Nay, nay, don't worry about it. Better laughing than *some*
reactions--we'd hardly *discussed* kidlets in any sense, so I didn't know
whether you wanted 'em, definitely didn't want 'em, or what you'd think
'tall. You do already have one, then? Or will?" She offers a rueful, but
also pleased smile for the last. "Hey, 'tisn't as if'n I can blame you
there. 'Twas a bit on the surprised side m'self."

There's a pause, and O'wyn just looks taken aback. He can't help it then,
and groans softly. "Oh -ow-, you and T'hren, I swear." He looks rather
sheepish a moment. "I'm partial to kids, I admit. Though, well, yeah, this
is kind of a surprise. But probably more of one for you than me. I'm not
the one who has to suffer the whole being pregnant thing, and all." He nods
faintly. "Will, at least. Azami's about seven months into it. She's a
journeyrank baker down at Southern." And not banker. Although that's an
amusing image too. "I bet, yeah. -Wow-."

"Hey, now, careful with the comparisons to the purple leather pants man!"
Kassi protests, trying for 'wounded' and achieving more 'entertained.'
"Shells, I'm glad of that. The partial bit I mean. I can't say I'm *sorry*
t'spring a surprise on you given the nature of it, but, y'know, the
thought's there." She laughs once, quietly, and shakes her head a fraction.
"I'd nay use the term suffer--well, nay *yet*. Talk t'me again in a few
months and I might. But 'twill admit I'm happy about it; enough so that one
of m'first impulses," and now her voice shades light, half-teasing, "was
t'find you and hug and kiss you senseless in gratitude, but I figured you
might be *slightly* nonplussed. Seven months? So you've nay long t'wait at
all, for your firstborn." Oh, god, now I'm picturing Azami as that guy in
the Ditech commercials. Words cannot express my horror. "You'd certes win
the bet. Seriously wow."

O'wyn dissolves into quiet laughter, hanging carefully onto his tea as he
does so. "Hey, it's not -my- fault you're both cruel and evil with the
puns, there. You said it, after all." He nods then, a little sheepish. "I
appreciate the thought. But it's okay, really." He brightens. "Okay, so
this is really a good thing with you then? I mean, you implied...but
checking seems to be good. It does complicate life for you and all." He
headshakes. "Not terribly long. Not that I ever get to -see- Azami, so I'm
starting to worry for getting to see much of the baby, but time'll tell."
He grins outright. "It's a good wow, though."

Kassima puts on a mock-indignant expression and looks all ready to protest,
but then pauses. "Y'know? You're right. I did say it, and 'tisn't your
fault per se, although you *inspired* it with the idea of slogans. So I
don't think you're entirely blameless in this little crime." When in doubt,
share the blame! The greenrider looks a bit sheepish herself, but her nod
is firm, and there's warmth in her fleeting grin. "It really is. I have
other children, but it'd been awhile since the last was born, and I'd sort
of wanted another. But 'twasn't having much luck on the flight front that
way. It complicates, but 'tis a *good* complication as far as I'm
concerned." Pause. "Now, as far as the kitchen cooks whom 'twill badger
into making weird food for me are concerned, mayhaps nay, but they're evil
anyway. Ach, shells," she says, amusement turning to sympathy, "that would
have t'be hard. But mayhaps 'twill work out well and you'll have more time
than you're fearing. I hope so." Another of those firm nods ensues; she
matches his grin with a bright one of her own. "I definitely agree. And I
can't tell you how relieved I am that you think so--it makes things much
better, really, than any alternative."

O'wyn arches one dust-colored brow at the near protest, and then has to
laugh once more at the comment. "Well, perhaps not -entirely- blameless,
but danged close, I'd say. Danged close." He looks relieved then, and
pleased. "Well, as long as it's a -good- complication." There's an amused
look. "Cooks are indeed evil, as well I know it. Though granted, this may
have something to do with the havoc I wreaked by accident as a candidate in
their kitchens." He nods then, slghtly sober. "I'm hoping so. I guess
time'll tell, one way or another." There's a sheepish nod. "It'd be a right
mess if one or the other of us weren't pleased, yeah."

"That's a bronzerider for you, always trying t'get out of the blame. When
we greenriders know the true blame for *everything* really belongs on your
shoulders," Kassi teases, not even trying to sound serious about this.
"Alas, m'story with cooks isn't that different. I used t'*be* one, a'fore I
left the Holding, but the first time Lyss was proddy I decided I wanted
plenty of raw meat to eat so took a wherry into the kitchens and hacked the
poor thing apart. Its head went flying, blood was everywhere... they've
been oddly reluctant t'let me in the kitchens since. Even *after* moving
Weyrs. I really don't think this is fair. Did your havoc also involve
dismembering animals? I'm somehow guessing it didn't." The idea seems to
amuse her, in fact. But she sobers up to agree, "Nay knowing 'til it
happens. For what 'tis worth, though, with this one you're welcome t'see me
or it all you like--though I have t'warn, I can't really leave Telgar for a
few months yet. But if'n you want t'spend time with the baby, I'm all for
that. 'Tis a good thing." She nods, too, decidedly ruefully. "You aren't
kidding. 'Twould likely be a nightmare. Though if'n you *didn't* want aught
t'do with the child, well, I'd nay try t'force the issue."

"Hey, now wait!" O'wyn protests, snickering quietly to himself. "I didn't
do anything! I never do anything, and I always get blamed, and I don't see
why!" He sounds, yes, amused though. "Raw meat. Raw. Oh my. I bet
that...yeah, didn't go over like a house on fire, to say the least. I just
made a hash of chopping things, is all. No dismembering of anything,
really." He brightens, nodding. "I'd like to see, well, both. And granted,
I have trouble getting away from home, but I can manage it -sometimes-, at
least. And, well, I'd -like- to know my kids."

Kassima answers all too cheerfully, "Because you radiate blameability! In a
good way, mind you, but still. Perhaps 'tis something about the hair."
Great, blame the hair. Grinning with wry humor, she affirms, "They don't
generally like it, nay. I do that every round. Eat raw meat, and kill
things, and usually go spear fishing, then half the time fly up to the Star
Stones and fling the fish heads down on the unsuspecting. The Weyr *loves*
me then, really. Though the entertaining thing, I have t'say, is that the
only odd craving I've had so far? Fish. There's irony there, somewhere." At
least it's an irony that seems to amuse her, though her cheeks are slightly
red. "Feh, your cooks are *really* oversensitive then. They should be
beaned with frying pans." A smile crosses her face anew at the brightening.
"I'm pleased about that, for both our sakes, since the kidlet can't be
pleased for itself yet. But I'm sure 'twill appreciate that when it can.
You're welcome t'visit whenever you've time and inclination then; Faranth
knows I'm nay going anywhere, at least for a couple of months more, and the
company'd always be welcome."

O'wyn pauses a beat, and his eyes flicker up to consider his bangs. "It
must be the hair," he agrees, in mock-seriousness. "I get a lot of flack
about the hair. So clearly it's the source of all my troubles." His eyes
widen, and his expression's more than a little disturbed. "Fling fish
down...okay, see, now that's just odd, I'm going to have to agree." He
flushes red in turn, sheepish. "Ah, yeah. A great deal of irony, I'm
thinking." He pauses a beat. "Ah, let's not do that. They'd only get -more-
annoyed at me." He looks pleased, and nods. "Well, I'll try and sneak away
when I can. It can be a trick, but I'll do what I can."

"You could cut it off, see if'n that removes all the blaming?" Kassi
suggests in very chipper fashion; she can't keep it up though and
immediately retracts, "Nay, don't--I vote against it, at least, because I
*like* your hair. I thus can't be much in favor of hacking it all off,
sorry." Ooh, watch her get sheepish at the eye-widening. "Odd's a good
word. I'm somewhat... colorful, proddy. In a sense." Even though she hasn't
completely lost her own flush, she grins at his. "Amusing irony, though.
And there are certes worse things to like, it seems t'me. Sadly, you've a
point with the cooks." She dips her chin, smile widening. "Good. And
thankee. Mayhaps later when I can travel, I can try t'visit you instead,
if'n you'd want and if'n 'twould be easier. And a'course once the kidlet's
born I'll have more travelability, if'n less time, so we can probably work
something out there."

"I had to pretty well shave it as a Weyrling," O'wyn admits, with a bemused
sort of look. "It didn't seem to help much, really. Baeth and I came in for
our fair share of trouble, really." He looks briefly pleased. "Hah, well,
another reason to keep it then." He nods then, bemused. "Colorful, yeah, I
can see that. Well, I imagine it keeps everybody on their toes." He smiles
brightly, nodding. "Hey, and I can show you my cliff, and the tree and all.
And yeah, we can sort out...well, there'll be a lot to sort out, I imagine."

Kassima's brows attempt to lodge somewhere above her hairline. They don't
make it, but they probably succeed in expressing disturbance anyway.
"*Shave* it? All right, if'n 'tweren't glad I didn't have N'all as a
Weyrlingmaster *a'fore*... shaving doesn't even make any *sense*. But,
well, I'm biased in favor of long hair." Like the knee-length braid
wouldn't give that one away. "Mayhaps 'tisn't the hair, then. But I'm nay
sure what else it might be. And I'd have t'agree about the keeping 'em on
their toes bit, especially when I chase 'em around the Living Cavern trying
t'hit 'em with a dead fish." She's amused, but terribly sheepishly so.
"Always an adventure. Aye, certes, I'd love t'see--I've never seen a pet
tree a'fore, or a house on a cliff, either one. Sorry I can't offer you
many sights in return currently, but Telgar in winter is nay so high on the
scenery scale." She makes an amused sound. "Aye, but hopefully we'll
manage. It always seems t'work itself out *eventually*, even if'n it seems
mass chaos at first."

"Shave it, sure enough," O'wyn agrees, with an amused look. "Between that
and the uniforms, it can be a trick to tell the male weyrlings apart, down
our way." He glances towards said braid briefly, eyes alight with
amusement. "Okay, see, we don't have a living cavern as such, but if I
chased anybody around the weyrhall with a dead fish? Well...okay, I'd love
to see the looks, really. But then I'd get the lecture." he grins then a
moment. "My tree, at least, may be unique. I'm partial to him." He nods
then, bemused. "S'okay. Frankly, I'm more for the idea of hiding here
inside away from the weather, anyhow." He nods then, bemused. "Eventually."

Kassima can only shake her head in half-amazed bemusement at the foibles of
foreign Weyrlingmasters. "Ours have started making the Weyrlings cut
theirs, the past few clutches--which I was just as glad to escape," and
there's a wry grin and slight coloring that would suggest she caught that
glance. "But shaving seems t'be overdoing it a few degrees. And
*uniforms*... should I ask what purpose that serves, exactly?" She can't
help but snicker then. "I'd love t'see that too. And if'n you ever *do* do
that, please invite me t'come see, and cheer you and the dead fish on? I
managed somehow to escape a lecture. M'guess is M'rgan was too embarrassed
by the whole incident t'report me to the Weyrleaders." Or too afraid she'd
find *new* torturous uses for the dead fish if he did. "How," she simply
must ask, "can you tell the tree is a him? I'm glad you mentioned it,
though, since now when I meet it I won't accidentally say, 'Heyla, tree,
ma'am,' and cause us all embarrassment." Okay, so that's a bit deadpan.
Amusedly deadpan. "I'm certes nay going t'complain about staying in here
either. 'Tis warmer, and nay so snow-intensive, and these are all good
things by me."

"Heh. And ours has just opted not to make girls cut theirs. All turned
about there," O'wyn muses, with an amused sort of look. "Uniforms?
Goodness, a great many. Makes them easy to spot, and easy to recognize that
they might not quite have a handle on things. And the uniforms are well
able to deal with mud and gore and muck, better than most peoples normal
clothes are, at least." He looks entertained. "If I ever want to risk life
and limb like that, I'll give you the heads up, sure enough." He looks
amused. "I just know. It's a very...himmish tree." He nods then, firmly.
"And besides, if we're in here, I bet people are less likely to try and
drag you off and make you do something official."

"But still t'make guys shave theirs? While I'd rather be in that system
than a mutual shaving one, I'll selfishly admit, I still must say: 'Huh?'"
Kassi puts on an exaggeratedly confused, and half-amused, expression. "I
suppose so. We just got random things out of Stores t'muck about in, oft as
nay, and I guess everyone could tell who we were by the knot and the
distinctly clueless look. Granted, past a point m'clutchmates and I had
t'keep telling out-Weyr people that nay, we hadn't graduated yet, stop
saluting us, so there may be a point there." Looking distinctly
pleased--well, and amused again, unsurprisingly--she says, "You're far too
good t'me, but thankee. I couldn't miss such a spectacle as that. And
'twill respect your intuition as to the gender of your tree, at least until
such time as it should start wearing little tree-sized dresses or
something." Pause. "Though I don't suppose that would necessarily be
telling." There's a quiet laugh then. "That too is a point. And I don't
*want* t'be dragged off; I'm enjoying this." She flashes a quick, slightly
shy smile before adding, "At least soon I shouldn't have t'worry about any
dragging for awhile, with the vacation I'm setting up for m'Wing."

"I didn't make it up, I just chopped off my hair when they told me to, is
all," O'wyn explains, with a bemused sort of look. "Yeah. And we get a lot
more out-Weyr folks in than most Weyrs do, situated as we are. We're a
proper port, as well." He looks amused. "If the tree starts wearing
dresses, I'm going to be right disturbed, I'll say that for nothing." He
grins a beat, and nods. "I admit I am as well. I...well, I enjoy your
company and all, to say the least." His brows lift. "A vacation? Ah, and
that sounds nice and then some."

There's another of those bemused headshakes from Kassi. "N'all is, in
m'opinion at least, a strange, strange man. Weyrlingmasters are allowed
t'be *somewhat* strange, but... well, but I don't really know him, so what
can I say? Ah, now, that's true. And you get all those riders coming in
t'recover from ailments and such," she recalls, nodding. "So you can't
trust they'll automatically know who's who without the help, I imagine."
With a grin, she suggests impishly, "I could always try t'find it a dress
in Stores, while I'm looking for new baby things? I'm sure 'twould
appreciate such a gift, *really*." Uh-huh. She smiles at that, admitting,
"'Tis mutual, methinks. You make uncommonly good company. You're certes
welcome t'stay as long as you want, or as long as duty allows, whichever
comes first." She nods affirmation of the last, expression pleased. "They
don't know it yet, but aye. T'celebrate their putting up with their
Wingleader as long as they have; I'm giving 'em two sevendays off. And if'n
*I* happen to also get two sevendays off by default, well...."

"Well, yeah. He's been Weyrlingmaster a long, long time too. That'll whack
anbybody out, and good," O'wyn points out, with an amused sort of grin.
"Yeah. Our population really shifts a fair amount more than that of a lot
of places. It's quite the adventure." He looks amused. "Somehow I don't
think a dress would -fit- Tree, really." He nods then, sheepish. "Likely
the latter. Work always seems to creep in long before I wish it would." He
grins a moment, nodding. "Hey, sounds a brilliant thing to me."

Kassima gives a nod that's emphatic, but also amused. "That's certes a
truth. Our Weyrlingmaster a'fore Weyrlingmaster a'fore last had the role...
what, something like fifteen Turns? Whacked as whacked could be, she is.
Though in a good way. Which is good, since she flies in m'Wing now and all,
so that just means she fits in with the rest of us." She gives an agreeable
sort of grin. "It must be. I don't know whether I'd like that or nay; some
stability is nice, but on the other hand, you must meet some of the wildest
people. Now, now, if'n we found a very *thin* dress, and put it around his
trunk...." Kassi's set down her emptied tea mug sometime since; she uses
both hands to make vague gestures meant somehow to illustrate this idea.
"And Tree is his name? Huh. I suppose it works, has a certain elegant
simplicity certainly, but if'n 'tis all the same t'you, I'd like t'vote
right now against naming the baby 'Human.'" There's a clear teasing note in
her voice for that. "Aye, don't I know it. Sometimes you get lucky and
escape, but other times it chases after you incessantly--and thankee; I'm
rather partial to the idea, I admit. All work and nay play makes for dull
lives for Wingriders and Wingleaders both. That's m'story and I'm sticking
to it."

"And N'all's been it a good bit longer than fifteen turns, I gather," O'yn
adds, with a bemused sort of headshake. He finishes off his tea, relaxing
faintly as he does so. Mint is a calming thing, which likely is a good
thing at the moment. "I can't imagine him in a regular wing, really." He
nods then, amused. "Some real oddballs. And, well, we have a stable
underlying population too, which is nice." He stifles a snicker. "I fear
where you'd find such a dress. And yeah, alas, I'm not hugely imaginative
when it comes to naming trees. I tell folks that's why I could never have
more than the couple firelizards I've got. I'd not know what to name them."
He nods then, bemused. "Not Human, check." He mmhmms softly. "And at the
moment, this close to eggs hatching? There's no peace." There's a grin, and
a firm nod. "Sounds fair by me. I'm afraid my wing's not getting peace
anytime soon. V'tali's new to being its leader, and I'm new to be 'second
of it, and so there's endless drills and all."

"I'll have t'cut him some slack then. Anyone who could deal with the job
*that* long... well, they have t'be a nutter, but they also have t'be
harboring some sort of admirable quality." Kassi's certainly relaxed
compared to how she was at the outset; no more anxiety, at least none
that's visible. "Rah for stable populations. I confess, 'tis probably
selfish, but I figure enough people disappear in Fall and early Weyrling
lessons and such that I'm just as pleased if'n most of the rest stay put,
y'know? And you'd be surprised!" She tries out an ominous expression. It
doesn't work any more than most of her false expressions have been tonight;
she's still too amused. "I have m'ways! Besides, you should *see* the chaos
that's our Store Rooms. Everything in the world's down there somewhere.
You've only a couple? Can I turn green with envy over here?" There's an
indignant chirrup from one of the fire-lizard perches. Which are all
covered with fire-lizards. "Shells, nay for a Coordinator, there wouldn't
be. You've m'sympathies there. And oh, aye, 'tis too dangerous t'give a
break when you've new leaders in place, I agree--the riders might like one,
but I'm going to hazard a guess they'd like being uninjured in Falls more."

"What N'all's is, I think is debatable, but at least it's entertaining,"
O'wyn replies, winking briefly. "Ah, yeah. Enough people get lost in the
course of things, I'm all for hanging onto who we've got, sure enough." He
looks entertained. "I have no doubt you have your ways, and honestly, that
frightens me." He glances at the perch, entertained. Just the two, a blue
and a green. They keep me busy enough." There's a wry nod. "And we don't
get a seasonal break."

Kassima grins widely at the wink, and toasts with an invisible glass this
time, since hers is empty and on the floor. "Then here's t'him, because
anyone who entertains is to be valued--though that isn't always the value
they *think* they have. Wait, wait, I frighten you?" She adopts a kicked
puppy look, big eyes and all. "But, but, I thought you said 'twas
entertaining *a'fore*... shouldn't you wait t'be frightened until m'ways do
evil unto you in some way? Which I don't *think* I have, though admittedly,
m'idea of evil isn't always anyone else's." The huffy blue who did the
chirruping glances back. Kassi quips, "I daresay. If'n I really *thought*
about how much work this lot can be, I'd go insane... ach, aye. Truth, I'm
nay sure how you stand it. Is the warmth and the beautiful scenery really
good compensation?"

"To N'all," O'wyn agrees, though as his own glass is empty as well, he
doesn't lift it either. "Amusing as he is." He looks amused. "Oh, it's
entertaining, but that doesn't mean I don't fear the possibilities involved
in these aforementioned ways. You haven't done me any harm, but there's
still the image of you hurling fish from the Starstones." The firelizard is
given an innocent sort of look, and he nods. "Thankfully Pesky and Natesa
mostly handle themselves, or I'd be lost." He nods then, firmly. "Well, for
me, yeah. Twenty-some years doing flips and turns? I'd be half a cripple if
I lived up here, with my joints the way they are."

Kassima makes a face and folds her arms, trying to look petulant. And if
you guess *this* doesn't really come off well either, well, bingo. Petulant
people usually don't grin. "Life just isn't fair when even the people
you've nay done aught to fear you. But 'tis m'fault for mentioning the
thrown fish heads, I guess. Would it help if'n I promised nay t'ever throw
fish at you, unless for some odd reason you want me to?" Yes, there's a
request she likely hears all the time. "If'n the fair couldn't mostly feed
off of Lysseth's kills and splash around in her oil tub, methinks I'd go
insnae. Or insaner. All right, all right, point to the last," she grants,
decidedly entertained. "Wouldn't do t'have you be crippled, or lose
flexibility; 'twould be a shame. I suppose that means I shouldn't ask for
lessons in acrobatics any time soon, hmm?"

And, well, O'wyn might look like he was buying it more if he weren't
snickering softly. "Well, it's not -scary- fear, at least. Just wary of
flung fish fear." He nods then, entertained. "That would, in fact, help a
great deal really. I'm not sure I can imagine circumstances under which I'd
want fish thrown at me." He nods then, wry. "Exactly, yeah. They're a trick
to keep up with." He shakes his head, bemused. "Well, not the harder stuff.
Some of it's fun to learn. But the high end performance stuff? Kills your
joints. After Fall's done, and dragonhealing, and reports, and washup,
-then- I get to cack out in front of the fireplace for a while, always a
nice bit."

"I can't either, but I figure one never *knows*. I mean, I suppose,
theoretically, one could get into a fish fight--like a snowball fight, only
with fish--and the whole entertainment factor would be in the flinging of
fish at each other." This theory is not something Kassi's having great
success at sounding less than amused by either. "So if'n we should ever
have a fish fight, then, then I might throw fish at you. Otherwise, I'd
guess you're safe. Gah, the South has *fireplaces*?" She thinks about this,
then shakes her head. "That's where I'd turn into a temperature wimp, I'm
afraid. Fire on *top* of the natural heat, Faranth. But I understand
cacking out somewhere after Fall, certes. Sometimes if'n a Fall's gone
well, some of m'Wingriders have dances, and I provide some of the music,
but otherwise I admit I favor curling up on a soft surface with a 'skin of
wine for awhile. Having Dragonhealing to attend to can't much help matters
there, where the exhaustion's concerned?"

[Editor's Note:  I was mostly referring to various NPC Wingriders 
there, for the record, so no PC Thunderbolt types should worry 
that I was powerplaying them. :) ]

"And wouldn't -that- be the mess after," O'wyn murmurs, sounding
entertained as well. "Okay, see, I can handle that as safety goes." He
grins a moment. "Well, not all of us do. But I've got one, with my joints
and all. Well, and in the rainy season? It gets cold enough to want one, if
not half so cold as this." He shakes his head briefly. "Not a lick. But,
well, I'm one of the best as far as high-work's concerned. I've got the
balance for the ladders, and that comes up a lot as necessary post-fall, so
I don't get to trade out much. On the plus side, I don't deal with much
'tween Fall healing because of that."

Kassima allows in cheerful fashion, "Quite probably; there'd be fish
*everywhere*, probably flopping around indignantly, nay less. If'n we
hadn't decided 'tweren't evil fish after all, I'd probably be in favor of
this notion as a bizarre form of vengeance." Her amusement fades for a
moment into concern. "Is the cold here troubling your joints now? That
makes sense, with the rains. We did have hearths at Greystones--nay that
'tis quite as warm a climate as yours, but the idea's there." Shaking her
own head, she observes, "I don't think I could ever do it,
m'self--Dragonhealing, I mean. There's so much t'do *anyway*. But 'tis
interesting, that the balance would help--I daresay 'twasn't a use for it
your family was foreseeing when they taught you all those tricks, aye?"
There's a thoughtful nod then. "Nay that there's so much of that. But just
getting out of having t'treat all the constipated Weyrlings would have t'be
a major bonus."

"Well, if I were them, I'd be -really- danged indignant," O'wyn replies,
looking entertained. "Ah, not so bad. But that's why I've been the wimp,
and not taken my jacket off." He half-smiles. "I wouldn't take it up now,
but I got into it before I ever became a rider, or had prospects of
becoming so." He nods then, amused. "It never came up as a thought, but it
does have use, I'll grant." There's a half-wry smile. "Well, there's all
the follow-up care for stuff, which I'm just as glad to get out of. And
yeah, Weyrlings, good grief, they're a mess and some." He sighs softly, and
reaches to rake a hand through his hair. "I ought to get back, I'm afraid.
Much as I really hate to do that. Maybe we can arrange to get together
again sometime soon? I can bring dinner, maybe. Something weird and
Southern and all that."

"Truth be told, so would I," Kassi admits, snickering for a moment. "If'n
anyone scoops me out of m'home and throws me at somebody, I'm going t'give
'em what for, 'twill tell you for naught." Okay, the mental image there is
priceless at least. "Faranth, I don't blame you any. And 'tis as well you
did, hey? Since I don't doubt the dragons appreciate having someone tending
to them who's nay apt t'lose his balance and fall right into the gaping
wound, or what have you." She pauses, and makes a face. "*What* a mental
image. Someday, y'know, some Turn, there'll be a Weyrling class where
there's nay even one constipation case, or foolishly strained wing, or
other injury that keeps someone from graduating. And on that day, the world
will come to a fiery end." She manages solemn there fairly well. Regret
flickers through her eyes then, but she agrees, "If'n you must, then you
must--it's been a pleasure, though. I'm all for doing this again. Truth,
I'm also all for weird foods right now, but I'd be curious t'try the
Southern variety anyway." Flicking a quick but warm smile, she says,
"Thankee for visiting, Ozy. And for taking the news so well, and... well,
everything."

O'wyn laughs softly at that, nodding. "And I would do the same, goodness
knows. I'm not big at being thrown, for starters." He half-smiles a moment,
and nods. "I imagine they appreciate it on some level. Usually they're a
bit distracted, though." He makes a face. "A quick and fiery end, if
anything -that- unlikely happens." He slides to his feet, smiling faintly,
if a little sadly. He doesn't want to leave, no. "Thanks for having me up
to visit. And, well, the news is delightful. I can't wait to tell folks
back home. And hey, no, thank you." He leans down to try and steal a
gentle, careful sort of kiss. "Be well, okay?"

Kassima points out with a grin, "Nay t'mention that 'twould take someone
large t'be throwing you; only being I could really see managing is a
dragon, and they don't *usually* do that sort of thing. Though the image of
dragons having people fights is going t'haunt m'dreams tonight, I'd bet
nigh aught." She really does sober a moment as she nods agreement.
"Distracted and a half. Lysseth's avoided most serious injury, but I've
seen plenty of Wingmates take a hit, and... well. Ow." She catches the
sadness in that smile, and it elicits a thoughtful pause, her head tilting
to one side. Finally, she says, somewhat hesitantly, "I thought about
mentioning... probably I shouldn't, mind, but; if'n time and duty permit,
and you'd the inclination--nay necessarily tonight, just whenever--and
you'd like t'stay over the evening... well, you'd be welcome to. For future
reference." Such a nice shade of red she's turned by the time she finishes,
but the smile she offers is sincere, if sheepish. Then, "I hope they take
it well--pass on any particularly interesting reactions t'me, would you,
for amusement's sake?" She returns the kiss in like kind, smiling a soft
smile afterwards. "I'll do m'level best. Just be sure you do the same."

"You haven't see Baeth and the lake then, if you don't think that's usual,"
O'wyn notes, his eyes lit with distinct amusement. "There's -another-
reason I don't care for bathing him." He nods then firmly. "Ow. It's a mess
and a half. He blushes in return, but he looks pleased. "Tonight wouldn't
work, I'm afraid, but some other time...well, I'd really like that,
actually." He nods, grinning. "I will, at that." He smiles to that last,
and steps back enough to offer a properly florid Jabari bow. Even as he
straightens though, it's clear he knows how ridiculous the act looks. "Then
clear skies to you and Lysseth both, and a warm evening. I'll sneak myself
out, so you can stay in where it's warm," he adds in with a smile, before
ducking out onto the ledge.

"That has got t'be high comedy. Have you tried convincing any of those
moony Candidates t'do it? So *they* can be the ones flung about?" Kassima
suggests, not without mischief. "I'd pay t'see that. Though it probably
wouldn't dampen their enthusiasm any; Vidarth nigh *drowned* me, and I
thought it was fun. Faranth, what fools teenagers be." She turns a notch
redder, but nods, smiling. "Another time, then, certes. And I appreciate
that." The bow is watched with entertained eyes; she quips, "I have the
oddest impulse to applaud right now. But clear skies and fair winds
likewise t'you, on your way home, and may it nay start snowing or raining
and tormenting Baeth *too* much." She watches him go with a last grin;
Lysseth, for her part, offers a sleepy whuff in parting.

"Hah! Tempt me not," O'wyn murmurs of candidate torture. "And I'm all for a
lack of evil weather." He scrambles neatly up Baeth's side, acrobat light
as he settles into place. Baeth offers a congenial warble in return before
dropping off the ledge, and fwooshing off into the air.