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Unto the Fourth Generation


Date:  May 25, 2008
Places:  Igen Weyr's Main Entrance Field and Living Cavern
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:  Her children's niece, her friends' granddaughter, child
of a man who complimented her udders once, Ileste has many family 
connections to Kassima even leaving out a certain surprising piece of
information.  It should probably make Kassi feel old that she knows
the young woman's great-grandmother, for Faranth's sake.  But the 
promise of sparkly things is plenty distraction!

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The Log:

If you're going to linger out-of-doors at Igen, not two hours past noon is
a dubiously wise time for it... but this is Kassima, and logic doesn't
always apply. Besides, she has her sunhat in all its jewel-studded
sash-fluttering glory. Stylish! Perhaps the sun has baked her brain and
that's why she and a salt-and-pepper-haired woman who also wears a
greenrider's knot are playing miggsy balls in the dirt. "You do this about
as well as I play the grand harp with my feet," the elder rider informs
Kassima, who mutters something under her breath and eyes her shooter
mistrustfully.

Ileste emerges from the infirmary -- a slender, pale figure in the dark
entrance of that cavern -- and squints at the bright light. In her hand is
a sunhat, too, which matches her dress and has been tied with a pretty
ribbon; she puts it on her head, like any sane visitor would. (She's not
tanned enough to be a regular here, likely-- a complexion like hers would
roast.) Her attention, once her eyes are shielded and she can see past the
glare, shifts to those nearest her-- older riders, playing miggsy? But she
doesn't approach, not yet.


Ileste:
In her mid-teens, Ileste is a very slender girl of average height. Her long
white-blonde hair is braided, looped, and pinned up with a silver and
amethyst clip, framing the fair-skinned oval of her face, and complementing
the pale violet of her large eyes. Her lips are touched with softest pink.
Her attire is as pallid as she, rendering her almost luminous: a white
sisal blouse under a lavender brocade vest, a matching flowy skirt
embroidered at the hem with tiny white caducei, and low-heeled shoes of the
same hue. At her shoulder is the knot of a resident of Telgar Weyr.


Kassima has her eyes on a particular marble of pale, pale blue swirled with
cloudy white, calculating her next shot. Lysseth, however, is not playing
miggsy. Lysseth is bored. She sweeps her gaze across the sky and the Bowl
in hopes of anything at least somewhat interesting to see, and Ileste
happens to qualify. "According t'you, *everyone* has a better hat than me,"
Kassi retorts to the bemusement of her playmate. "Sorry," she explains,
making a face. "Lyss. She's seen--that lass, there. She does have a nice
hat." She's not been subtle in directing the other woman's attention; at
least she nodded to Ileste instead of pointing, but a wave of greeting
still seems called for.

Ileste tilts her head to the side. There's a certain familiarity to the
angle of the movement, a certain way that her near-white hair catches the
light, the way the sun plays over her cheekbones. Kassima has seen these
things before, but not the lass herself, precisely. And with a sort of
reserved pleasantry, she lifts her hand to return that greeting.

There's certainly something about her that rings bells; there may be
several things, reminding of different people and turning the young woman
into a puzzle. Kassi's opponent isn't so curious--she's back to the game
and hitting another of Kassi's marbles straight out of the circle. "If'n
'twere playing for keeps," Kassi comments, glancing down, "I'd be irked. I
like that one. G'dafternoon!" she calls to Ileste. "Igen's duties, all
that. Have I seen you somewhere a'fore?"

Ileste paces over, taking it for an invitation. "We've never met," she
states quite simply. She bobs her head courteously to Kassima and the older
rider-- and Lysseth, too. And because Kassima addressed her first, she
returns an unwavering gaze to her. "My duty to Igen and her Queens."

"I don't think we have," Kassima agrees, more slowly than such a thing
might seem to call for. She can see Ileste better now, making out more
points of resemblance. "You remind me... I'm nay sure of who 'tis, but
someone."

The other greenrider waves more negligibly. She gives Kassi a droll look
over the circle. "Your turn. Unless you want to give up?"

Kassima shakes her head. "Keep your pants on--" She picks up her shooter
and rubs her thumb over it, but her focus is still on Ileste. "I shouldn't
stare at you trying t'figure it out. Welcome t'Igen, anyway, I hope you
aren't roasting too badly."

Ileste half-turns, and nods toward the infirmary. "Thank you. My name is
Ileste. My grandfather lives here. And my, ah... Cousin? My family tree's
very complicated. I can't remember them all. My other grandfather was
really prolific." And she turns back. "I should start turning pink soon.
But I brought numbweed along."

The name does the trick. "You're Ilessa's daughter!" Kassima exclaims,
pointing and grinning to finally understand, or so she thinks. "A'course,
Alessi's eyes, Aeriste's hair, there's probably something of Is in you.
Thankee, you've solved a puzzle for me. I'm Kassima. Kisai and Kaisan's
mum, if'n Is or Ilessa's ever mentioned 'em. That makes Lani the cousin?
Didn't know Aeriste's sire lived here. 'Tis a small world." And she doesn't
know the half of it.

Ileste nods, and gives Kassima a smile, faint but genuine. She jerks her
thumb back toward the infirmary. "Hello. Ilessa's mentioned them. And you,
she's told me a few stories about my grandmother and her friends. And my
grandsire -- not I'sai, the other one -- works in there." Her eyes are
paler than Alessi's, almost gray, violet only at the center. "And Lanisa's
my cousin. I think. I don't think she's my aunt. I know she's not my
sister..." It /is/ a very complicated family tree! It even does loop-de-loops.

Well-familiar with the tangled horror from the depths that is the Is tree,
Kassima says, "Aunt she is, by half, if'n there's such a thing as a
half-aunt. She's Ilessa's half-sister. Although since she's also Ysaira's
niece, 'tis a bit muddled-looking." That I'sai and his cross-generational
shenanigans. "How interesting. I don't think I'd know him, I avoid the
Healers insofar as I'm able beyond the occasional visit now and then."

Her eavesdropping opponent finds something to snicker at in Kassi visiting
the Infirmary, but the sound's broken off by coughing when she inhales some
bit of passing sand or dust. "Shells. Drink--" She gets up and half-runs
for the Living Cavern, flapping a hand Ileste-wards as she goes in what's
meant to be a nice-to-meet-you gesture but may just look deranged.

"I want t'count that as concession, but she'd never play with me again."
Kassima starts gathering up the marbles that are hers. "Sit down if'n you
like? I won't ask you t'play since I've had enough of being beaten."

"I guess she's my Cousin Aunt Lanisa, then." And, "...Oh, he's not a
Healer." Ileste's gaze is briefly moody, and then she's smiling again. And
she waves after the departing rider, and looks back to Kassima. "His name
is A'deth. I don't think he wants me to tell anyone, but he was rude and
I'm not a secret."

Now is the time at Igen when we blink. Kassima blinks. Several times, her
surprise clear on her face and her eyes gone wide. "Aeriste is *A'deth's*
son?" She's silent a moment to marvel over this thought. "That's either
disturbing or incredibly hilarious." Another pause. "Probably both. He said
he'd a grandchild through a daughter of Is's, I guess that'd be you--I
don't know why I didn't wonder more about that at the time, Faranth help me
if'n I can keep track of who I'kan knocks up but Is's daughters are easier.
I'm rambling," she realizes, being an astute woman. "Sorry. A'deth is
Aeriste's father? Really?"

Ileste listens to all that, and then nods solemnly. Her smile this time is
a little bit smaller, but only because it's much more genuine: she's trying
not to giggle. "Really truly."

"How insane. Aeriste called a lover of mine a pervert once," Kassima
reminisces. "I don't think they got on very well. I haven't seen him in
Turns, though, as best I can recall. Who would've thought? A'deth's son
married to Alessi's daughter, and I'sai's...." She shakes her head in
absolute wonder. "Let me know if'n you want embarrassing stories about any
of 'em. I should probably refrain from A'deth stories, but I'sai'd be
disappointed in me if'n I *didn't* tell tales." Sure he would. "Were you
here visiting him? A'deth?"

Ileste opens her mouth, and closes it. "They don't get on well, Father's
convinced that his sire is disappointed in him. And... I thought," she
tries to say carefully, but it all comes out in a sort of slow, quiet rush
(if that's even possible) anyway. "That I would go to the weyrs of my
grandparents and help them while they had to fight Thread again. I thought
that I could be as brave as they were. That I might make a very big
difference. But I haven't. I'sai is very busy, and so is Alessandra. And so
is A'deth. I patched up a few small scores on Grandmother's arm. That's
all. I'm not sure why I'm here, but Thread's still falling, even if it's
mostly over, and it still doesn't seem right to just go back to selling
fancy clothes to fancy people in the meantime."

"Oh--I meant Aeriste and L'nan. This is the first I've heard of Aeriste and
A'deth having any connection 'tall." Kassima's brows draw together. The
fact, given what she's said--and what A'deth's said of his sons--takes on
new elements, leaving her thoughtful. She doesn't ponder it long, not now.
"The bravery's nay cancelled out if'n it didn't work out as planned. We
still need Healers--don't let 'em know I said so, but we do. They can be
proud of your sense of duty. That last sounds like something A'deth might
say himself."

"I'm an assistant." Ileste corrects her so automatically that it sounds
like she might have said it a lot. "He said to talk to Iesia. If she
approves of me, he says, he might." Taken one way, it might imply that he
is disinterested. Taken another, it might mean that he does not trust his
own judgment. Another, that he might be refusing to play favorites. Or
should one take it as all three? Or none?

Kassima's nod has some of that thoughtfulness. "Makes sense," at least
given what she knows. "He's senior Dragonhealer, methinks she's the ranking
Healer of people. He's taking the work very seriously. I'm thinking he
might be slow t'approve of anyone." She tilts her head to better see past
the hat's brim. "From what you've said, mayhaps you don't know him very well?"

Ileste'a expression is well-schooled into polite neutrality, but her eyes
aren't quite there yet. Her gaze is uncertain. "No."

Kassima smiles just a little. "You could do much worse for ancestors. I'm
biased," she allows. "But 'twouldn't be biased if'n he weren't someone
worth being biased about."

"I wouldn't be here," Ileste points out softly, "If he wasn't."

"I don't think you'd be the first t'be coming to a Weyr nay knowing aught
about a rider kinsman 'tall." It pleases Kassi, however, that it's not so.
"Don't fash yourself about the busy. In an absorbing work shift I suspect I
could dance naked on his desk with a 'skin of Benden white in each hand and
a sack of fifty marks clutched in m'teeth and he'd tell me t'stop smearing
the ink on his dissection sketch." Honesty bids her pause and admit,
"Mayhaps nay, though. There's always time for Benden white."

Ileste looks Kassima over. She's been at a weyr long enough not to blush.
"He's mad if that's so." But this is her relative she's talking about, and
everyone in A'deth's line is mad. Wine over this woman? Or not notice at
all? Yes, mad, most assuredly so.

Kassima has been at Weyrs longer, but reddens slightly anyway as she grins.
"I'd agree--fifty marks? You can buy any number of sketches for fifty
marks." Priorities, priorities. "Afraid I don't know Iesia t'be guessing
how that interview will go. Probably nay too bad, and then you'll be set
t'stay as long as you like. 'Tis different from Telgar. You've already got
a hat, though; you're ahead of the game."

"I think I'm about to turn pink now," Ileste says at that last, because the
hat's reminded her of the sun, and the sun of sun/burn/, and lo and behold,
she is a little pink.

"With that complexion, little wonder--I scorched when I got here with
m'Benden skin." Kassima's not dark by any stretch now, but if there's a way
to live and ride at Igen without picking up some sun-burnishing it's passed
her by. "Mayhaps you should get out of the sun. The food's good here, if'n
you've nay eaten. Have you got any aloe?"

Ileste nods. "And willow, if it really starts to hurt. I should've come
sooner." In the spring, when it's less hot.

Kassima admits, "'Tisn't the best time of Turn for it. In the day. Wait
until nightfall, the temperature turns positively Telgarian. But this way
you'll know the worst of it from the beginning, so it won't hit you as a
nasty surprise after our winter."

"I'd like to go inside now," is all that Ileste says. "Please."

"Shells, a'course," and Kassima unfolds her legs and rises with alacrity,
realizing the younger woman is waiting on her. She gestures towards the
Living Cavern. "After you?"

Ileste turns and steps in, escaping the heat that's so oppressive to one
who isn't used to it, the sunlight which rests heavy on the skin like some
burning leaden weight. Even the desert /air/ is heavy to one from a
temperate clime, hot in one's nose, one's lungs. She is not suited to it,
and so she finally flees for the mercifully cool shade of the living cavern.

Ileste heads through the main entrance, into the Weyr's Living Cavern.

You head into the Igen Weyr Living Cavern.

Kassima isn't so far behind Ileste. Yes, she's gotten somewhat used to the
heat and the air by necessity, but once reminded of both, any place out of
the sun becomes preferrable. "I don't see Imlari. She'd best claim those
miggsy balls soon, else some kid will run off with 'em and good luck
getting 'em back then--" The greenrider pushes her hat further back on her
head and makes for the food supply. "What d'you want t'drink, aught?"

"Fruit ices. I had some earlier. But you shouldn't be serving me. I know
where things are." Ileste is an infirmary assistant, Kassima is an
assistant weyrlingmaster, and older. It's not quite proper to her mind that
Kassi should get the drinks, and her startled expression makes it plain.

Kassima waves that off, not thinking anything of it. "I'm closer to 'em.
If'n you want you can snag me a meatroll and we'll call it even." She pours
cooled redfruit juice for herself, pausing at the table for two quick
gulps, refilling almost to the top afterwards and then rummaging for the
ices. "I don't know if'n 'tis as good as the days of Ofira ruling the
kitchens at Benden and Telgar. Kaimi and her cooks are magnificent, but I
miss the stuffed mushrooms something awful sometimes."

Ileste gets a plate of fruit and cheese for herself -- she's ovrheated
enough that meat would sit like stone in her stomach -- and some meatrolls
for Kassima. "I had lunch earlier. The food here is lovely."

"They can do wonderful things with fish when they're of a mind, and I'm
trying t'recall, methinks the curried caprine I remember was Kaimi's doing.
There's also this thing with grapes and fine cheese...." Talk of festival
feast foods leaves Kassima eyeing the perfectly fine but humbler meatrolls
with some wistfulness. "'Twill have t'tell Kai you're here," she says while
she chooses a table and settles there. "He lives here too. More or less.
Spends as much time out-Weyr as he can, he's picked up a case of wanderlust."

"Whom?" Ileste inquires. She settles at the table, too, sitting across from
Kassima, and puts both plates down. "And I wrote some recipes down before I
left. I might have some of those. I'll look."

Kassima slides the fruit ices across to Ileste. "Kaisan. M'son, your uncle.
I doubt he knows your mother terribly well, but I'd be curious if'n a
kinswoman moved t'my home, wouldn't you?" The word 'recipes' snags her
interest more firmly. "I couldn't try the mushrooms. Ground porcine--the
kitchens wouldn't like a hobbyist playing with that, and I can't blame 'em.
D'you know if'n any of what you wrote involved much spice?"

"A few. Not many." Ileste tilts her head at Kassima, and reaches quite
gratefully for the frozen drink. "There's no point in causing anyone to
sweat when it's usually so cold."

Kassima pauses in picking up her meatroll. "I'd nay thought of that as the
reason. 'Tis warming enough for a little while, good for the sinuses, and
those got clogged often enough. I do recall more spicy things as Istan
specialities." She nibbles on the edge of the well-spiced roll. "There's a
good mix here. I've heard twice recently the kitchens aren't a good place
t'work; 'tis odd t'me, because they're pretty amiable when I putter around
in there."

Ileste looks bemused. "They're as good a place as any. I wouldn't want to
work in Igen's yet, I think I'd die from the heat. At least in summer. But
the work's less disgusting than mucking stables, or cleaning up in the
infirmary." And she starts draining down that ice, because it's cold, and
she's not.

"Wiping down the tables lacks something for mental stimulation and glory,"
Kassima says, darting a look kitchen-wards. "That might be it. Cleaning up
the infirmary might at least feel noble, whereas scooping up that tomato
someone dropped and stepped on, nay so much. Either way you've got ooshy
things."

Ileste takes a bite of fruit, which is also blessedly cool. "Keeping riders
fed, and keeping them healthy, are both the same thing, I think. Then
again... I see riders when they're bleeding and aching from threadscores,
and I get to be the one to pull the bandages from their bodies, or wash
them with redwort. It's necessary, it's important, but is it better than
offering someone the comfort of a good meal? After a hard Fall, wouldn't
you want a plate of those mushrooms that you like so much? It sounds trite,
but is it?"

Kassima toys with her cup of juice. "I'm usually nay hungry after Fall,
except for wine. Mayhaps 'tis part that nay all the food is for riders?"
She lifts one shoulder. "All the Infirmary work isn't either, but probably
more of it than nay. Feeding the residents, you could do that in a Hold,
and if'n they've come t'get away from a Hold mayhaps it doesn't offer the
change they wanted. Though one of the lasses I'm thinking of is Weyrbred.
Mayhaps 'tis more like almost anyone can feed themselves if'n you put some
basic things in front of 'em--" A nod towards Ileste's fruit and cheese.
"But healing's something critical they can't do. Can't clean their own
bedpans if'n they're in any shape t'need 'em in the first place."

Ileste looks down at her plate. And murmurs, "If I was throwing myself at
death every few days, I think I'd want more than basic things... you know,
I'm Weyrbred, too. I didn't grow up at Telgar, but I was born there. Both
of my parents' parents were riders, even if they weren't. They became
traders because that's what Alessandra's family does, but they weren't born
to it, and neither was I."

Kassima's eyes on Ileste's downturned face are thoughtful. "D'you wish,"
she asks, "they'd stayed in Weyrs and raised you there?"

Ileste shakes her head so hard that her braids bounce. "No. Mother was fine
with wherever she went, but Father's pride couldn't stand him staying at a
Weyr. They let me leave for a while. I liked my old life before Thread
started to fall again. I like nice clothes and pretty jewels. I didn't
remember a time when it did before then."

"Really. I don't remember him being...." But Kassima frowns; perhaps she
does remember something. "He had pride when I knew him. Insofar as I knew
him, and 'tisn't saying so much as that. Are jewels what they trade?" Yeah,
she'd notice that point.

"He got left on the sands. A lot of people do, it's normal, but he wanted
to be like his father, who didn't attend the Hatching." Ileste doesn't
sound angry; that's just how things are. "His lover Impressed. T'kai still
visits, and I don't ask, and Mother doesn't seem to mind, but Father...
Father's very... high-strung. He couldn't be what he admired most, so he
became something else completely. And we trade clothes and jewelry." 'We',
not 'they'. She finishes her drink, and reaches for another. The flush on
her face, not from embarrassment, has finally begun to fade.

At first Kassima says only, softly, "Ah." Although her brows do take a
leap: Ilessa's husband having a male lover is news. For some reason after a
moment spent contemplating it she makes a sound suspiciously like a stifled
laugh, and buries it in juice. "I remember T'kai a wee bit, too, from
visiting Fort when 'twere Candidates. Didn't know--or I didn't remember.
Methinks I didn't know. At least he's been successful." Her gesture
indicates Ileste's clothes and their quality. "Tell me more about the
jewelry."

"Father likes numbers. Um." And Ileste reaches up to undo the clasp pinning
up her braids, and sets it down between them. It's heavy, silver and
amethyst wrought skillfully. She is not dripping with jewels, but this is a
piece of quality. "This isn't much of a sales pitch, but if it's shiny and
well-made, we can get it for you. At a reasonable price."

Kassima leans in to better see, not quite gauche enough to pick it up.
"Kisai would like it. Her grandfather's fault and mine she's so keen on
silver and amethyst things. Earrings, rings, necklaces, bracelets?
Circlets? I need more like a hole in the head," the woman admits with a
grin. "That never stops me from oohing over possibilities. D'you ever deal
in pearls?"

Ileste nods, her eyes lighting up at the possibility of a sale. "Mostly
white pearls, but a few black ones. Necklaces of course, but the rest, too.
Is there something in particular that you're considering? I can send along
a request."

"I'm thinking of something I'm probably going t'have t'commission, but in
case: a bracelet of matched grey pearls, and I'm thinking, now, with an
amethyst bead at each end, beside each half of the clasp." Kassima holds
her hands up, thumbs and forefingers forming a ring that would be between
snug and loose on the wrist of an average-sized woman. "I don't believe
I've any white pearls for m'self, but I haven't aught t'wear that much
calls for 'em."

Desdinova ambles out from the inner caverns.

Desdinova makes her way into the caverns, hair damp and hanging limply at
her shoulders, the ends clumped together from a recent bath. A faint smile
is sent to a few people she knows as she makes her way across the caverns
to te serving tables, grabbing a plate and piling it full of food, mostly
veggies and tubers. Once she has her meal, she turns and looks around, eyes
scanning for somewhere to sit.

Ileste nods at something that Kassima says; both of them sit at a table,
drinks and plates of food before them. "I think we have something like
that. We can swap in amethysts. I'll contact Mother and she can send you
the estimate. It shouldn't be too bad, grays aren't as pricey as true
blacks, even if they're just as lovely."

Kassima rocks back in her chair, face lighting up with genuine surprise and
delight. "You do! Oh, excellent, excellent. I daresay we can come t'some
reasonable agreement if'n the piece exists. I definitely want greys--the
color's what makes the gift fitting." It is now a good day in Kassiland and
the greenrider fairly bounces, beaming.

A familiar voice catches her attention, and Desdinova seeks it out,coming
to stand by the table Kassima and Ileste sit at. "Room for another?" She
asks, voice polite. She looks between the two, smiling, "As long as I am
not inturrupting?"

Ileste's smile is soft and pleased. "I'll get to it right away." And she
rises, reaching for the clasp at the table and pinning up her hair. "And
coat myself in aloe." Because her skin is definitely pink from the summer
sun, now. "You're not," she adds amiably to Desdinova, "And you can keep
Kassima company after I go."

Kassima glances up and offers a quick smile. "Room enough. I'm ordering
jewelry," which at least might explain why she looks so happy. "Good idea,
Ileste--and numbweed. Don't forget the numbweed, with a burn like that.
'Twill see you about, aye?"

Desdinova offers a polite half-curtsey to Ileste as she departs, the best
she can manage with hands full. "Clear skies, then, ma'am." She offers. She
turns back to the table and slides her plate onto it. She likewise slips
into a chair, and turns a smile on Kassima. "Jewelry? Sounds fun. You are
having a good day then?"

"I won't," Ileste chirps to Kassima. "And you will." And to Desdinova,
"Clear skies. But I'm not a ma'am." And she trots off, to slather herself
in cool relief, and send along word of a commission.

Ileste strides through the passageway into the Inner Caverns.

"I lost in miggsy t'Imlari," Kassima answers, "again, some more. I met the
descendent of several friends of mine," waving quickly after Ileste. "She's
staying at Igen now, planning t'work in the Infirmary too. The jewels are
that gift for Sria. Bloody belated at this point, but she may forgive me."

"Late is better than never." Desdinova agrees, stabbing a fork into a roast
tuber. "And the Infirmary seems to be a crowded place of late, though
that's a good thing. Iesia will be happy for more help." She smiles,
glancing in the direction Ileste went. "So you know her parents?"

Kassima agrees, "Too many cooks may spoil a kitchen, but I've never heard
anyone complain about too many Healers in an Infirmary. Except mayhaps
m'self. Nay so well as I know some of her grandparents--and, shards, one of
her great-grandparents, how disturbing is that?" With an affected shudder
she bites down on her half-eaten meatroll. Once she's swallowed she
clarifies, "I met her father a few times when he was young, and her
mother's the half-sister of two of m'children. Her mother's mother flew in
m'Wing upon a time. Her father was an Infirmary worker too when I first
knew him; it must run in the family."

"You don't look old enough to know anyone's great-grandparents, let alone
someone my age." Desdinova replies, startled. A forkful of greens keeps her
quiet a bit. "Gets too crowded, I can always move back to the kitchens,
though I expect that would make Iesia less than happy. She seems to have
decided she likes having me around." She grins and shrugs. "But we go where
we are needed, in the end."

"She's m'friend's mother. Saiya, mother of I'sai, father of Ilessa, mother
of Ileste, y'see; when Kisai and Kaisan were younger I'd end up taking 'em
t'see Saiya sometimes, usually with Is in attendance, but occasionally he'd
wiggle out somehow. He went t'see m'family now and then on the childrens'
Turndays. 'Twould make it fair if'n m'parents were half as evil." Kassima
munches on the meatroll with more cheer than befits a discussion of evil.
Go figure. "Has she? So there's someone here who's a friend t'you. That's
well. 'Tis helpful, I'm thinking, making friends at a place, if'n you want
t'settle and make it home."

Desdinova doesn't quite glaze over during the explanation on genealogy,
though it's close. "I see." She says, simply. "Well. It's interesting how
everyone seems to know everyone here, sometimes." She pushes some food
around on her plate, and chuckles. "I've got friend. More than I had back
home, even, though that's not hard just through sheer population levels.
Count you among them, I guess, hence coming over to say hi."

Kassima nods enthusiastically. "The more interesting when you take into
account nay anyone in her family's from here, so far as I know--I'sai's
bronze did sire one of Igen's clutches some Turns agone. 'Tis a big stretch
though t'be calling Tear's children relatives. Give it enough time and
you'll know... those folk are mostly Telgar, but Igen's. If'n you want to.
The rumor mill's somewhat helpful in that respect." Wry amusement. "Isn't
it everywhere?" She pops the last bite of meatroll in her mouth and thus
doesn't answer further verbally, but her fleeting smile between chews would
suggest she doesn't mind the friend label.

"I'll just be content that the odds of me meeting anyone related to me are
smaller than small." Des replies, laughing. "I'd never be able to keep
track of all the links between Igen and Telgar and the other Weyrs." She
shakes her head, savagely spearing another tuber. "And yeah. Rumor mills
are... Much too active. I don't think I will ever get used to that, hearing
people talk about every small detail of each other's lives, and other
people's."

"'Tis somewhat worse with Weyrs than Holds, isn't it? Although Crafts are
probably nigh as bad, all those Apprentices coming in from other corners of
Pern with ties t'Faranth knows who. But Weyrfolk do migrate, and knock each
other up here, there, everywhere." A fact which amuses Kassi further. "I
don't mind 'em so much. Used to it, mayhaps. Gossip's been a part of m'life
so long I'm nay sure what I'd do without it."

"There wasn't really /gossip/ where I grew up. When you've as small a
opoulation as home did, everyone knows everything about everyone, so
there's no need to talk about it, really. Here, well, it's different." She
grins and shrugs. "But I am adjusting, and really, so long as I don't do
anything gossip-worthy, it's no skin off my back." Shelooks at her near
empty plate and stands, wrinkling her nose. "It was nice to talk to you,
Kassima. I ought to be getting into the infirmary myself. I'll look forward
to seeing you again soon, though."

Kassima asks wryly, "Does everyone knowing a thing ever keep 'em from
talking about it? I might know what you mean, though--m'Da's Holding, we
might talk about what our relatives were up to, but everyone did know of it
already so 'twas like discussing the weather." Today it's slightly cloudy
with a fifty percent chance of a cousin running off with a Trader clan.
"Like as nay 'twill. Good luck with the wrappings and the bedpans and all."