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One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Purple Puppy Eater


Date:  August 18, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr Outer Infirmary
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Bless Metri for paying Kassi a visit in the Infirmary 
and giving her a reprieve from boredom--although to judge by what she
was reading when he came in, I'm not sure 'boredom' was her problem 
just then so much as 'incredulous nausea.' ;)  A quick and fun scene
that involves more marital squabbling, the eating of puppies, and
reminiscence about dear Lord Loveypoodums, among other things.

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The Log:

Metri walks in from outside the room.

"'...her chest heaved with passion as she gazed at him, her lucid, limpid
purple orbs traveling from the firm curve of his calves, up each rock-hard
thigh, to the smooth, strong column of his neck and the masculine planes of
his face... little did she realize how the color of each iris changed
t'that of a sky at the very heart of dusk, when the sun sets it afire from
behind. "Oh, Storm!" she breathed through parted, lusciously pink lips.
"You've rescued me from those brutal renegades who abused me so! What
reward will you now claim?"' Sweet bloody beautiful Mnementh and all his
fortune-blessed green children, who *writes* this tripe?" Kassima demands,
throwing an agonized glance from the scroll she was holding--and reciting
from--up to her dragon, who appears *very* entertained by tonight's story
time. "'Rock-hard thigh'? I should probably just be glad naught's throbbing
yet, shouldn't I? Bright shattered stars on a crutch."

"I don't /wanna/!" - "SHHH!" - "Nah! I en't gonna see no healer!" - "I
didn't want to bring you to a healer, but I was told to. Now SHH." That
coming from Metri probably has much the same usefulness as a banana with
arms. The candidate's hostages, two little boys who still seem very intent
on killing one another, are held apart as he steers them in. Both are
scraped and cut, and one of them is sporting a blackening eye, while the
other has a huge goose-egg to show for thier quarrel. Neither falls silent
until Metri cocks his head like a canine's, listening to the words from
further in. "Rock-hard thighs?" one of the boys asks, Metri quite quickly
claps his hands over their heads, steering them further in and peering
about for someone to pass them off to while he dryly comments, "I thought
you were writing it, to be very honest."

Kassima is seated on a chair set next to Lysseth's couch of choice, an
instrument table suborned for her use nearby and hosting a chess board and
a small stack of hides. Her walking stick is on the floor and her right leg
angled a little awkwardly to the side, but any pain in her expression
almost certainly comes from the turgid crime against literature she holds.
"I," she announces, after surveying the two boys for a moment, "am just nay
going t'be asking. Or explaining rock-hard thighs, I'm afraid." There's a
distinct snicker from her dragon. "--Me? Oh, m'dear, a'course nay. I can
understand why you might think this an account of our love; I *am* such an
epitome of manhood, after all, but you don't have lucid, limpid purple
eyes. Or lusciously pink lips. And when I rescued you from the renegades,
you whanged me upside the head with a frying pan and demanded I let you get
back t'seducing them all, remember? There were nay words for m'shame that
day."

Metri takes to shaking his head sadly at his hubby, one eyebrow quirking
above his eye of it's own accord. He's released the two boys, and they've
taken to whispering conspiratorally behind his back, giving looks at Kassi
that suggest they think she's insane and maybe they should take her down
while they still have a chance. They're thwarted by a passing healer who
double-takes, places her hands on her hips, and stomps over to them. Any
injury they have is increased tenfold when thier pride's beaten down: she
grabs them both by one ear, scolding as she drags them, yelping, away.
Metri simply grins after them, calling, "That's what you get for playing
rabid greenrider!" He plants his hands on his hips and says, "See? I come
bearing children and a nice little howdy-doo for you, and all you do is
insult me."

Kassima doesn't hide the grin that steals across her face as the boys are
hauled away. "Is *that* what they were doing?" she wonders, glancing back
to Metri. "I didn't see any bite marks on them. And those weren't *my*
children, loviekins. Why should I be happy when you bear someone else's
children? And goodness, how old they were! I knew you were a lightskirt,
but t'be a lightskirt so *young*! M'heart, m'heart. I feel faint." She
makes a show out of fanning herself with the scroll. "--I'm guessing you
got stuck with nursery duty."

"No, actually." Metri spins a circle in his spot before spying a chair and
retrieving it. "I've been conned into reading to them every night--ever
since I did it for Carli, one night, they've invaded and made sure I read
every night. I'm a horrid storyteller compared to you, m'love." He winks
and then, on an afterthought, tips a nod to Lysseth. "They got in a fight
over whether the Puppy should get eaten by a bronze dragon named Tear or
hide out in the forest and otherwise perish." Metri grins. "They both lost,
because the puppy fell in the ocean." Cruel. Cruel.

Kassima shakes her head, tossing the scroll onto the table with the rest of
her hides. "You shouldn't let 'em con you into it," she advises. "Children
will eat you alive if'n they get the chance--and I say that with both
fondness and experience, y'may be sure--and 'twould just be tragic if'n
they investigated the Nursery some night t'find only a little pile of
gnawed Metri bones." She clicks her teeth together a couple of times in her
best pantomime of gnawing. "Mayhaps you should take this... this *thing*
and read it t'them? I'm sure they'd be enthralled. Especially when the
author starts talking about all those pulsating cascades of light that
overcome the heroine at the height of her passion. Which was just with the
*renegades*, so Faranth alone knows what they have planned for her and
Storm, and let me just say I don't think I want t'find out--hey!" Her
expression suddenly turns wounded. "Why shouldn't the puppy have been eaten
by a green dragon named Lyss? That's just typical. We never get t'eat the
puppies. We only have t'hope Tear will share."

Metri holds his hands up in his own defense, swearing on it all that, "I
didn't choose a bronze dragon named Tear! It was one of the lads in the
room. I said, and I quote, mind you, 'Maybe the Puppy should get eaten by a
dragon,' and some little voice pipped from the back, 'Tear looked like a
puppy eater, yep!' so Tear it was." Metri turns serious enough as he says,
"I didn't tell them that Tear probably was going to minimize his puppy
eating for a while. How're they?"

"I wonder if'n people ask I'sai about m'welfare half as much as they ask me
about his," Kassi murmurs, but she sounds amused in a slightly rueful
fashion. "Last I heard, they're well. Pretty much the same injury that got
us--uncanny, really--but Tear took more of a beating, and the trip back
here surely wasn't fun for 'em. Plus, Is got the thrill of danging from
Tear's neckridge after his straps broke; broke straps had much t'do with
why he got back so late, methinks." She gives a sad shake of her head.
"Hear that, Lyss? People don't think you look like a puppy-eater. You need
t'go back t'baring your teeth at every stranger you meet." Lyss apparently
finds this suggestion one worth taking, since she opens her jaw in a wide,
fang-flashing yawn.

Metri seems to be well beyond the fang-flashing of the green dragon. Were
one of the clutchparents to do that, he may need a new pair of breeches,
but he simply makes a wide yawn right back at her, saying, "That's probably
not neccessary. We like visitors; what else will we put in the stew?"
That's a thought. About Is, however, Metri seems to be relieved. "That's
good. I mean, that they're okay, not that Tear is worse than I'sai, or that
I'sai had to hang from the neckridges and whatnot. I only say it because
Lani's been all worried." He adds this last for some reason, as though it's
some sort of valid point he forgot. "I know /you/ are fine," Metri says
exasperatedly. "You're the one reading about someone's thighs."

Kassima waves a hand in airy dismissal of this idea. "Visitors are *fatty*,
and 'tis better t'be playing poker with 'em anyway--only when they have nay
marks left should we cook 'em. Into sandwiches. Mayhaps with that spicy
sauce on 'em that one of the Bakers is so good at making, mmm." She licks
her lips, but somehow can't really manage a credible expression of longing
for human flesh sandwiches. "Aye, 'twas pleased m'self that 'twasn't worse.
I worried, too... but 'twasn't his first 'score, and flying straight
doesn't always mean aught but that some Healer caught you a'fore you could
get away, and that the Healers *here* won't box your ears when you get
home." A nearby Healer gives her a *Look*. She replies with a raspberry.
"Kisai, poor thing, she's had a time of it, but she's been acting like
she's just miffed with us both for forgetting we're supposed t'be immortal.
Oh, what, like 'twouldn't read about someone's thighs on m'deathbed?"
Pause. "All right," she concedes. "I probably wouldn't. Anyway, as best I
understand it, Is is about as injured as I am and vice-versa; take that as
what reassurance it may be."

Metri says "You should be ashamed." This comment is no doubt of her
rasberry blowing. With a very disappointed and vehement shake of the head,
he tells Lyss sincerely, "You have my envy for your patience." - "You
should watch out; you have to be in here for a while, those healers'll
still box your ears, you naughty rider.""

Lysseth is clearly in a good mood: in response to this, she gives Metri the
very best long-suffering look she can imagine without much in the way of
facial expression. "Oh, hush," Kassi murmurs to her lifemate, smiling.
"Ashamed! Pish. *They* should be ashamed, haranguing me so. I didn't but
get back but they were down m'throat. 'Stupid, stupid rider! You shouldn't
have flown the Fall! You shouldn't have come back *between*! You should've
gotten that looked at at Benden!' Etceteras, etceteras." She gives a
comically exaggerated roll of the eyes. "As if'n any of that were
necessary. 'Twasn't, y'know; they're just getting their own back at me at
last, for Turns of stealing their mint sticks. I'm going t'redouble
m'thieving efforts when I get out of here, in revenge."

Kassima does sober enough to add, "I *should* have found someone t'look at
Lyss there, nay question. But everyone was celebrating by the time we got
in... just seemed easier, t'put on the numbweed and get away. And she's
healing up very well. Y'see?" She nods towards the thin line of 'score that
marks the green's grey-dusted hide, slightly marring the otherwise scarless
neck.

"I suppose you were a victim of bad judgement," Metri offers and excuse up
while he surveys the locations of the healers and the time it would take
them to launch an attack at him if he stole some of the mint sticks. The
odds don't seem to look good enough, so he draws a leg up to settle in the
chair further. "You guys both look like you're healing just fine, which is
perfect; it's just in time for the renewal of our vows." He goes wide-eyed.
"We'll have to do it before the hatching, in case I'm maimed beyond
recognition."

"Agreed," an eavesdropping Healer comments at his dryest. "Her own." It's
Kassima's turn to fire off a Look. "They're going t'be first up against the
wall when I take over the world," she confides to the Candidate in a
mutter; then, "Well, a'course! You didn't think I wanted t'marry a pile of
meat-scraps, did you? Mayhaps Velano could marry meat, 'twould at least go
with his profession, but I prefer a more active and less gory spouse. Have
you decided what you'll wear to the ceremony yet, sweeting?"

"A couple seamstresses are making a dress that'll fit," Metri informs her
with a face so straight it can only mean he's telling the truth. "Actually,
it wasn't me who made 'em do it. Roberta," there's no minimal sneering of
the name, "went right to the seamstresses and told em they needed to
measure me for a dress. Next thing I know, I'm picking out fabric and lace."

Kassima can best be described as 'nonplussed' at this news... at least for
the first beat. It doesn't take long before she's fighting very hard to
keep from cracking up right then and there. "Oh, darling," she manages to
get out, "you'll look so *bee-you-ti-ful*. Lace, though? I always thought
you'd be more the velvet sort of woman. Brilliant, flaming red velvet, and
red ribbons in your hair." She simpers. Yes, simpers. "So *good* 'tis of
Roberta t'help us out this way! We'll have t'invite her, you do realize."

Metri's grumbles sound very much like, "Only if we're going to use her to
play 'Pin the Tail'." Then, louder, for her sake, "She's wretched. I was
being facetious about the dress, y'know. Apparently, though, now that that
little prat has spread it about, I've got about six other boys who are
willing to hold me down while the girls braid my hair and frill me up." He
scoffs. "Velvet. Pah. Not with /that/ fabric."

"You aren't pinning her tail at our *wedding*, miladdo!" Kassi declares,
all scandalized. "Nay a chance! Oh, but such a pity. 'Twas in awe of you
for a moment there--I've never known a man t'commission a dress t'wear,
unless I'sai commissioned his that once. Figured that would take some
serious comfort with your masculinity. Is there any chance they could do
this holding down and braiding bit somewhere besides the Barracks, so I can
witness? Because I don't mind telling you, this sounds like the sort of
spectacle worth remembering for *Turns*."

"And I thought you loved me," Metri says, just as scandalized as she is.
"You, of all people, are supposed to protect me from all this exploitation,
and here you are preparing to sell tickets and refreshments at it!" He gets
a bit fainty, fluttering his hand weakly over his heart. "For SHAME!" he
says with feeling.

Kassima widens her eyes and attempts to look quite taken aback. "Why,
dearest of m'heart, whatever made you think loving you meant I'd turn up a
chance for profit? You know me better than that! Besides, lovey-dumpling,
how else am I t'afford the amazing gift I have planned for you? The
diamonds! The rubies! The most tasteless and tacky necklace you've ever
*seen*, I promise you! You'll flash more than J'lyn does when he wears his
kilt in high winds!"

That earns a laugh from Metri, even as he sneaks from his chair, slinking
across the room to retrieve the unguarded mint-sticks and then running
back, leaping dramatically onto the chair, and sitting cross-legged. He
sticks the mint in his mouth to muffle the laughter and avert the
positively evil looks he and the greenrider are earning. Not that they
don't deserve them, at this rate. "I already have /gaudy/. You."

Kassima chortles openly at this liberation of the mint, dark green eyes
lighting up. "Say you'll share?" she wheedles in her most pathetic tone.
"Please, please, pretty-pretty please? And, well, that's true enough." A
long sigh. "You do have me. For better or worse; for tasteful or tasteless;
forever and ever yours, or at least until I get fed up with your cheating
on me with that Roberta chit."

Metri, who is holding out one of the mint sticks, very quickly draws it
back when she declares /that/. "I," he informs her, "wouldn't touch Roberta
with a ten-foot pole." He shakes his head, but still offers the stick
again. He sucks on his own and says, "I can't imagine what she'd say if she
hears about /this/ conversation."

Kassima murmurs something under her breath about ten-foot poles that likely
goes better inaudible, but which causes more twitches of laughter from
Lysseth. "Very," she says as she plucks the stick free, tucking it into her
cheek, "very good t'know. Haven't the faintest, m'self. Are you sure she's
nay lurking about here somewhere, trying t'get a peek at Is? I haven't
*seen* tracks of drool on the floor, but--"

"I don't know. I didn't think she was sitting around during half those
conversations I had with Lani, but she found out about /those/ too." Metri
seems none too happy about that. "She's probably lurking around in a corner
with some sort of invisiblity power. I wouldn't doubt it if she wasn't
human." He raises his eyebrows and looks all matter-of-fact.

Kassima gives another of those dismissive waves. "*That's* nay surprising.
Just how the Weyr works. Have a conversation where anyone might possibly
hear you, and you're looking at gossip fodder within the sevenday--probably
she's got spies somewhere, people you'd never suspect. Velano could be her
spy. Alain could. You just *never know*." Great, Kassi, way to lessen
someone's paranoia. "I doubt the dragons would've Searched her if'n she
isn't human, but she might've found a Healer's knot t'wear. That would nay
surprise me."

"Pfft." Metri is quiet other than that, crunching and eyeing Kassi as
though she's the spy. Either way, he seems mostly satisfied that she's at
least human, more so than Roberta, and then he gives an eyebrow waggle.
"Bet she'd get plenty to say about you."

"Oh?" Kassi's amused; she leans back in her chair as best she can,
stretching her right leg out a bit with only a small wince. "Do tell," she
invites around her mint stick--the art of talking around one of these
things would seem to be one she's nearly mastered--"what sort of things you
think she'd say."

Metri says "Well, I don't know, really. But you seem like a scandelous
person." He shrugs, one shouldered; having not mastered it half as well as
she has, Metri holds his mint-stick in one hand while he talks and then
replaces it."

"Quite an endorsement for your husband," Kassi drawls. She shifts the stick
from one side of her mouth to the other without using her hands. Show-off.
"Dare I ask, or dare you speculate, on what sorts of scandals might lie in
m'most mysterious past? This sounds potentially entertaining."

Metri smiles slyly at her, despite that show-offy move. He seems to think
for a while, and then slowly, calculating, says, "If I recall, you've bit
the head off a tunnelsnake on a dare and have been Lady Holder of two
holds. If that's not gossip worthy, Roberta's not paying attention."

Kassima sighs with regret. "Alas, the tunnelsnake part was a lie. But
mayhaps the part the most people believed--the Lady Holder thing, now,
that's at least as true as me being your husband, if'n nay more so."

Metri is now very interested. "Nah uh," he says uncertainly, looking at her
sideways but obviously not sure of his own words. "Were you really?"

This uncertainty gets a grin from Kassi. "Was and wasn't," she confirms,
dipping her chin once. "'Twas Lady Holder of Benden for one evening, result
of m'name being drawn in a Gather raffle--a whole night of being referred
to as 'Lady Kassima.' The second, now. That's more arguable. Went to a
Weaver Gathering and announced m'self as Lady Zuhluly of Hold
Mucketymuckamuck, wife of m'dear, sweet Lord Loveypoodums--want t'hazard a
guess as t'who that is?"

"You were Lady Who of Hold Mucketymuckamuck? Should have known," Metri
says, thumping his forehead to his hand. "I was very worried, really.
Thought the Hold had sunk into the ocean or something." No doubt jesting,
but Metri's not venturing any guesses now, not when he could be wrong and
the false Lord Loveypoodums could find out. "Who was it?"

"Zuhluly!" Kassi corrects, her tone abruptly on the over-effusive side.
"*Zuhluly*, dearie, goodness! But you can call me Zuly if'n you really
*want* to. So many cute young men do, and Loveypoodums doesn't really mind.
He knows m'caprine tapestries belong only to him." She gives her lashes a
flutter workout, already grinning wickedly before she stops. "Nay guessing?
Nay fair; that's half the fun! But I'sai, 'twas. A marvellous good sport."

Metri snorts so much he has to remove the mint stick again.
"I'sai...Loveypoodums." Giggle giggle. And it doesn't look bound to stop
any time soon.

Kassima grins, teeth flashing around the stick. "He was a *terribly* good
sport," she repeats, "t'let me call him that, and let me call him
husband--he was in an indulgent mood, I guess. Don't tease him about it too
badly, heya? You should know, O m'wife who'll soon be in a dress, how
someone can end up in the strangest roles."

"Only around you. I seem to remain male around all the other people here,"
Metri says, the perfect informant. However, he doesn't seem to be
complaining. "I just..." and he snorts laughter again. "I just ... I'sai
never struck me as a Loveypoodums, I guess. Brilliance." He gives a glance
over his shoulder. "Those boys...I hope they're not ransacking anything
while I'm not paying attention. Got to take them back soon."

"Imagine that," Kassima teases. "I wonder what it says of me, that I can
make a women out of such men? Nay that I ever made a woman out of Is--and
the only time 'twas a man, why, 'twas of m'own volition. Did I ever strike
you as a sweetiewoogas? He called me that." Merriment makes her eyes dance.
"Such a performance I'd swear you've never seen. But a good husband he did
make; most solicitous of m'welfare, at least when he wasn't off getting
scandalous diseases from Istan chits! Ach, now, *you'd* ransack the mint
sticks but deny them their own hand at theft?"

Metri nods shortly, devilishly affirming, "Of course." He's shaking his
head at her, though, not failing to smile at the idea of I'sai playing
along so well. "He never struck me as someone who had it in him, to act
like that; but I figure if he does, it's all the better." He studies her
and then says, "Well...maybe not a sweetiewooga..but something closely
related."

Kassima grins a bit. "He's a man of many faces," she says. "A jewel of many
facets. You may find out, should you fly under him as Weyrlingmaster.
Someday I should sicc our children on you--they're both very much like
him." This is something she says with pride. She does admit after a moment,
"Kiss does get *some* of her personality from me, however; and much of it
is purely and dearly her own. I digress. Closely-related, hmm? Such as?"

Metri opens his mouth to answer, however, he's cut off when he's stampeded
by the two boys. They're followed closely by a healer, his mouth pursed and
forehead wrinkled with the amount of furrowing he's doing. No doubt that
look is Metri's clue--he does the best he can to hide his mint-stick as he
gets up. "Give me some time to think about it. I may have a scroll as to
the family tree of sweetiwoogas and other such beings." He flashes a smile
to the healer, who has taken to eyeing both the mint-sticks accusingly, but
Metri takes his bandaged up charges once more before the man can say
anything to scold. "We'll go now," he assures, grinning at Kassi. "Maybe a
loveywump...." he says over his shoulder, taking to steering the now-tired
boys back out of the room.

Kassima just grins at the Healer, wide and sweet, with not an attempt to
hide the mint stick in sight. "Good of you to attend those lads," she
chirps. "--Loveywump, eh? 'Twill remember that for the next time I do
introductions, mayhaps. G'night, g'night, Metri, and sleep well--and
thankee for the visiting. I appreciated it."

Metri walks out into the bowl.