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First Introductions


Date:  August 16, 2003
Places:  Telgar Weyr Skyspace; Southern Boll's Skyspace, Gather Beach,
and Lava Lounge
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  As the title says, this is an introduction--
specifically, Javi's introduction to the Lava Lounge and the dual 
arts of drinking and graffiti.  It's a good combination! ;)  Kassi
brings her new Wingmate to Boll as part of her initiation into 
Thunderbolt, and though no one actually gets drunk (alas!), 
worthwhile conversation and juicy gossip are both exchanged.  As 
an additional bonus, *someone* decides to draw a big eye on the 
wall to commemorate the occasion.

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The Log:

You spring from Lysseth's ledge with one downsweep of your wings, soaring
into the sky above the Northern Bowl.

<*> Lysseth's leap from her ledge is swift and sure, taking her quickly
skywards; once she's achieved a satisfactory height, she greets Naelanth
with a pleasant, mellow rumble, spirals once, and blinks away *between*.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

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

You suddenly emerge...

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

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

<*> Lysseth trumpets ringingly to the familiar pair on night watch; once
acknowledged, she arrows down towards the beach's pale sands.

You wing down onto the gather beach.

<*> From the sky, Naelanth winks out of -between- behind the green, a
darker smudge even in the silver-white shafts of moonlight; his welcome is
deeper, rock grinding over rock, and he plummets downward with as much weight.

<*> Naelanth backwings to a landing.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Javinia swings a leg over, then slides down Naelanth's shoulder.

Kassima sets about the removal of her jacket and riding pants almost
immediately after hitting the ground--even this late, the tropical air is
hot and muggy for her Telgar-acclimatized skin. Lysseth meanwhile sinks
into a shameless sprawl against the sand. There's stored warmth in the
grains, and she's inclined to revel in it. "Now, Javi, 'tis so that you've
*never* been here a'fore?" the greenrider wonders, after flashing Naelanth
a grin in greeting.

Even as boots touch ground, one gloved hand skimming Naelanth's hide,
Javinia's tugging off googles, loosening her flight jacket. "Feh! I'd
forgotten it's -warm- in other places. -- Oh, no. Never. Can you believe
it? I've never been much of anywhere, truth be told." She's hauling herself
up on a riding strap to stash her gear in a pack there, then letting go to
sink into sand. Naelanth's testing this with his claws, clearing a large
flat section for himself with his tail. It's a satisfied rumble that greets
his wallowing stretching, umber hide to paler sand.

"Hard t'believe when 'tis autumn at Telgar, isn't it? I'm just waiting
t'see how long it takes the Lake t'freeze enough for skating. I'm thinking
nay much longer. At least then 'twill be some *point* to the cold--" Kassi
pauses, then adds sheepishly, "Apart, y'know, from killing Thread. You're
in for a treat if'n 'tis your first time here. Boll's a wonder and a
half... as the dragons tend t'be discovering." Naelanth's satisfaction
amuses her, apparently. "Lysseth's been obsessed with the place since our
Weyrling days. There are several things t'be doing here, between the beach
and the vine and the Lounge; have you a preference?"

Javinia's gaze takes in Lysseth's own sumptuous enjoyment. "I never would
have known," she counters, but then she's looking about her with a
perplexed bit of frown. "The vine? In truth, I may regret this," she says,
letting the sand suck at her boots as she heads over toward her wingleader,
"but why don't you show me this Lounge I keep hearing such things about?
Now, I'm not promising to get drunk, or any such thing. I'm not at all sure
I'm the dancing on tables in my underclothes type, but ... " The shine in
her eyes is more than mere reflection of Belior's brighter light.

Kassima gestures towards one of the cliffs in explanation; there is,
indeed, a rather long vine dangling from it. "Lady Dyane would have it 'tis
a Bollian bathing ritual; I've always just heard it called swinging the
vine, though. You run up the cliff-path there, and jump, and swing out into
the ocean. Wild fun." She grins broadly with memory, and with mischief.
"A'course, 'tis easier faced if'n you've had a bit t'drink *already*."
Laughter issues from her at this last. "Don't be worrying! Given that
you're female, I'm nay exactly apt t'pout if'n you don't shake it all about
in your underthings. Nay offense meant, a'course. Follow me, then? And go
careful--'tis through the jungle a bit, and while the path's fair clear,
there's plenty t'trip over in the night. Though your boots might keep you
from most harm." She wiggles her toes against the soles of her sandals,
glancing down at them in rueful humor.

Javinia eyes the vine -- the cliff -- dubiously. "Gay'd be all for that."
It's not necessarily a recommenation. Dimpling, she assures, "No offense
taken. I'd prefer not to, um, shake it all about either." One last moment
to divest herself of her sweater, tossing it over in the sand next to
Naelanth, who only snorts, coaxing a smile from her. "Back later, love,"
she tells him, then she's looking game, ready to go. "Fair enough. I'm
warned. Watch the path."

"Nay doubt. Mayhaps I'll have a chance t'show her after she's graduated,"
Kassi muses, considering the vine speculatively. "Even if'n 'twill
technically nay be her mentor anymore. Enjoy your lounging, Lyss,
Naelanth!" She calls this over her shoulder to the dragons; she's already
started down the jungle path, making her way across the sand with a
cheerful bounce to her step.

You wander up the jungle path.

You push aside some creepers and enter a hidden cave.

You climb up the crude ladder and disappear from view.

Javinia climbs up from the caves below.

Kassima scrambles up the ladder, managing somehow to do this without losing
a sandal. Don't ask her how. It's one of those arts she'd be at a loss to
explain. "Marcus, old man!" she sings out once she's achieved the summit,
immediately gravitating towards the bar. "How's tricks? Seen Aph lately? Or
is there a new lady who's caught your fancy by now... don't look at me like
that; I'm a paying customer. Or will be. I promise." She spins away from
the bar, slapping its front edge affectionately. "Shells, but I love this
place--what will you have t'start, Javi? Any preferences? They've fair food
here as well as the drink, though some of it's nay for the faint of
belt-pouch."

Javinia follows up the ladder, sure-footed in her boots, though a little
cautious when she pokes her head up. No, no strange Thunderbolt initiation
ritual -- a real lounge. Relief. "To start? Oh, um, ... " She dusts her
hands off on her thighs, a dimple for Marcus, as she comes up to the bar.
"Any suggestions? I've only had wine, you see." Her gaze shifts about the
lounge, taking it all in: the tables, the chairs, the bar, the walls,
-that- wall. Lifting her chin, she steps forward to examine some of the
writing on the wall, head tilting to read it silently to herself. "Hey,
Kassi! That's -you- there."

"I *wouldn't* have the Brown Dragon, regardless of the name. You really
don't want t'know what's in it. A Green would be m'suggestion t'start with,
or a Blue... or mayhaps a Gold, if'n that's more your fancy. They're gentle
drinks, good starters. Some of these you probably wouldn't want t'try
straight off unless you're aiming t'lose the skin from inside your throat."
Odd how Kassima can sound so cheerful about such a prospect, even as she
signals Marcus for a drink. "For food, the lemon chicken with rivergrains
is beyond superb if'n you've the funds. The mushroom soup is good as a
secondary, and nay anyone makes better whimry sandwiches if'n you only have
the munchies and want t'eat on the cheap--or want something t'stuff down a
drunken, unconscious bronzerider's pants... oh, which?" she asks, stepping
back from the bar to amble over and investigate herself.

It isn't long before Javinia's finding her wingleader's name all over the
wall. "You really -have- been here quite a bit," she marvels, turning only
to listen with round-faced interest to these suggestions. "A Green? All
right. That then," she says on a smile, "and let's do chicken. I'll pay.
Calder was rather generous this month." Her hand sneaks into the pocket of
her trousers to finger the marks there. "I think he's trying to bribe me to
-stay- at Telgar." The dimples that follow this suggest she's all too happy
to oblige. "Oh, here," she says, and, "Here," again, and, "I'm not tall
enough to read that one, but that -looks- like you."

Marcus smiles and pours a drink.

Marcus hands Kassima a glass of Green Dragon.


---

This is served to you in a small glass, slightly bigger than the size of
your hand. You can alsmot see the drink zipping back and forth in the glass
as it slowly goes from a drab green, to a glowing shade of emerald. This
drink begins to fizz as you taste it, and you are filled with the sensation
of wanting more of it. With this drink though, it's like the domino effect.
Drink or gulp one and you'll be on your way to a pleasant, fussy night very
quickly.

---


Marcus smiles and pours a drink.

Marcus hands Javinia a glass of Green Dragon.

Kassima admits, "More times than I'd be likely to confess t'my parents or
the like, over the Turns. I owe this place much--including the twins, but
that's another story...." She smiles brightly at Marcus as he passes her
the drink, and takes up the glass to cup in her hands and sip. "Probably as
well we aren't out t'get drunk as fast as possible. M'tolerance is
shameful, with Kazy so newly-weaned. What, pay, at your own celebration?"
She affects great dismay--but then, with a twinkle in her eye: "Oh, very
well. If'n you *insist*. But I'll pay the tab then; you should benefit a
bit from bribery for a change, hmm? I wonder how long he'll keep up the
flow of monies. Ah...." Leaning forward, the rider examines the wall.
"That's me," she agrees. "And that. And that. And that--I've, ah, taken up
rather more than m'fair share of space on the thing. You should write
something on it too, while you're here."

"The twins?" Javinia's not one to pass up a story; Kassima has her
attention, and it's with a distracted hand that she takes her drink from
Marcus. Remembering her manners, she nods a quick, "Thank you," grinning,
before peering into her glass. "Um, is it -supposed- to change colors like
that?" Her nose wrinkles up as it starts to fizz. "Oh, well, I -should- let
you pay, given the earbobs and all, but ... I've the marks. I might as
well. You can pay tab, though. I'll not argue." Coming back to stand beside
her wingleader in front of the wall, she admits, "Most of what he sends me
is from what my father left for us. -- See? But -what- to write?"

Kassima turns about to call to the barkeep, "Two plates of the lemon
chicken, Marcus, if'n 'twould? M'new rider here's paying--" To which the
barkeep snorts, but his nod is amiable, acknowledging the order. "Far be it
from me t'naysay good fortune. Ah, but the colors are one of the best parts
of the drinks here. Don't worry, it hasn't so very much kick. You want
*kick*, try the Thread. I'd pay for that even if'n I hadn't already agreed
to, just t'see your reaction to it." This is probably a warning sign
against ever getting within ten feet of the drink in question. "The twins.
I don't know whether that qualifies as a long story or a short one,
exactly--especially since I can't recall much of it, but it involves me,
J'lyn, too much t'drink, and waking up on one of those hammocks with too
little in the way of clothing, if'n you get me." Yes, she's a fair shade of
red upon relating that. "Naught comes t'mind? You could go with a limerick.
They've certainly gotten popular. And see, Th'lon did one when he was
tapped, and Sisirye, and methinks Alessi--"

Javinia sniffs at her drink, tests it with a small sip; she seems to be
deciding before she looks up, rather impressed. "It's not bad!" She takes
another, deeper drink. "In truth, it's quite good." A swirl of her glass,
and she pokes a finger into the liquid. "Are you sure there's anything in
here? -- Too little in the way of ... Oh, um, I get you." The greener light
of the glows negates any flush that might tint her own cheeks. She tucks a
short brown wave behind her ear. "I don't think I'd be very good at a
limerick. I'll have to think on it." Writing on a wall is serious business.
"I mean, I'd rather do something different, do you know?"

A wide grin breaks across Kassi's face at that, lighting the dark green
eyes. She helps herself to a chair not far from the wall. "Isn't it,
though? And the Blue is *nigh* as good--they're likely my favorites,
taste-wise. I'm quite sure there's something in them. Drink enough, and
you'll still be drunk, if'n nay so *quickly* as with some of the others."
There's a quiet, rueful laugh to follow. "Nay precisely something I
anticipated, that. It did teach me a bit of caution when drinking with men
here. If'n nay drinking with men in general. Could you do a different form
of verse? Or you could refrain from verse entirely--pun nay intended. Is
just made a handprint, methinks, and compared to that nigh any sentiment
would be meaningful."

No need to nurse the drink; Javinia's taken an actual liking to it. She's
still reading bits of the wall, head tilting first one way, then the other,
her nose nearly touching it at times to read the smaller print. "That
happens a lot," she says, with some curiosity, though it's mostly
rhetorical, "the drinking and the bedding and all of that?" Turning hazel
eyes to find the rider's greener gaze, she asks, earnest, "Did you bed
someone -before- your first flight? Or, I suppose you might not have had
to, but ... " This last makes her laugh. Shaking her head, she says, "Oh,
no, I think it quite meaningful -- a handprint. And rather appropriate,
don't you? Now, if he'd made a -wherry- out of his handprint. Well then."

Kassima is sticking to sips, though they aren't ginger; she's familiar with
the drink, only cautious of what so much time without drinking might have
done to her tolerance level. "With J'lyn it seems to--drinking or flights.
Alessi had a similar incident with him. With me... thrice, and I ended up
with four children for it, so you'd *think* I'd learn." There's no real
self-depreciation there, just amusement. "Nay that I'm complaining given
the most recent result. Did I... ah, nay." It's at this point that Marcus
arrives with the chicken, two steaming and well-sauced platefuls, so
Kassi's answer is interrupted by the need to smile thanks at him and reach
for a fork; she picks it up again with, "'Twas fourteen when I Impressed,
for one, and methinks just seventeen when she first rose, and I hadn't
really wanted t'worry about such things yet. Though mayhaps I should've.
I've wondered occasionally whether 'twould have been better for me if'n I
hadn't left it, and that first flight wasn't won by a woman, so that
everything felt so awkward." She tugs a bite of the chicken free through
some maneuvering of fork and knife, and pops it into her mouth. Her eyes
automatically roll back in silent culinary bliss. It's a beat before she
answers the next question. "For him, aught obscure or odd would be
appropriate! One of us should suggest that t'him if'n we ever see him here.
I'd nay put it past him t'change it even at this late date."

Javinia takes the chicken from Marcus with a bit of grin. "Thank you." She
settles down with her plate, her drink, listening, more than drinking, or
even eating. "Of course, you -were- young. Brynn, too, I know. I suppose
that would matter, though seventeen's none so young." A little wince that
rounds one cheek precedes her next question, "Was it truly that awkward?
Would you have rather done it -- with a friend or some such -- beforehand?
I can't decide what I think about the whole thing, truth be told." She
starts to pick at her chicken then, crossing her ankles and tucking them
back up under her chair. "Oh, this -is- good," she admits, pausing to chew
and swallow, before saying, "Or, well, we could do it -for- him. Of course,
I really don't think he's much on surprises -- not that I'd know, but ... "

"Seventeen's young enough. Particularly when you've spent most of the past
Turns concentrating so much on drilling and learning, you haven't really
had *time* for all that... I don't know, that growing up business; I feel
like that sometimes, looking back." Kassi's more reflective than anything
like maudlin. This may of course be because it's hard to be maudlin while
rhapsodizing over every bite of chicken. "--'Twas, in ways, though it could
have been worse, but I don't... I didn't really have any friends I could
have imagined doing that with. Truth, I've had few enough friends I could
imagine doing that with *since*, and mayhaps that's more m'problem than the
flight business. Are you considering seeking out a friend? If'n, ah, you
need one? Or leaving it to Naelanth t'be deciding--" She breaks off to
laugh, and to wash a mouthful of chicken down with green liquor.
"Surprises? He can be. Depends upon the nature. He *might* be amused at our
play, did we change it; then again, he might get moody about it. I doubt
it, but sometimes 'tis hard t'know what he'll object to. Hard t'be sure of
that with anyone."

Javinia chases a bite of chicken with the last of her drink, nodding her
understanding. "I know. It's hard for me to imagine, too. And who has the
time? Well, I mean, obviously Ys has, or had. But ... " With a faint frown,
she trails off there, and it's back to her chicken, her confession coming
only after several long moments. "G'rint has hinted around. But," again, "I
don't know." A single lift of her shoulder, then she's nodding again, more
thoughtful. "True, I suppose. How people will react. But sometimes the
doing is worth it, I think."

Kassima gives a light snort at this. "She seems... content," the greenrider
concedes, after a long pause. "Surprisingly so t'me; she doesn't seem
t'mind, the sharing him, the lack of feeling beyond friendship. I'd have
thought she'd want more, but she doesn't seem to. 'Tis odd." Another pause.
"Between you and me, I just never pictured her adding herself t'K'ran's
women. But." She ceases the incessant clicking of knife and fork, setting
former down to lean her cheek against her upraised right fist. "D'you find
him attractive? Can you imagine wanting that sort of intimacy with him, or
does it make you feel uncomfortable and uneasy more than aught?" she
questions, gently. "--Sometimes. Depends on what you're doing, and how
great the risk of upsetting the person may be. Also mayhaps on whether that
person *deserves* upset."

Talk of Yselle seems to set Javinia ill at ease. "I know. That's what I
thought, too, especially when she'd -just- had a crush o--" She catches
herself, color heightening. "No matter now. They've had a falling out."
K'ran and Yselle. It's a softer statement, and thought of that makes
thought of the bluerider a difficult transition. "Well, he isn't difficult
to look at, and he makes me laugh. But ... I'm not sure what I want. I
think it wouldn't be such a big deal if it were over and done. I think it's
the not knowing, or, well, you know." Hazel eyes catches the glows, show a
wry bit of humor. Back to chicken and grains, though she only pushes these
around. "True enough. I'm not sure anyone -deserves- to be upset."

Kassima shifts position a bit and taps her thumb against her lower lip. "A
crush on...? This is news t'me. Who might she have had a crush on? R'var?
K'ran and Yselle had a falling out." That merits a slow blink. "I don't
suppose you could speak more of that? I'm terribly curious, now, as t'what
happened, but if'n you can't be saying I'll be surprised or nay
understanding." She's silent a moment, to listen and chew. "I'm being a
font of questions tonight, I know, but d'you mean nay knowing what 'twould
do t'your friendship? Nay knowing what 'twould be like t'have done that
with him? Nay knowing something else? Believe me, though--there are people
who well deserve t'be upset. Perhaps nay most of those either of us know.
But there are people."

Javinia skips right over the mention of a crush, leaning back in her chair,
hands coming up to push at the edge of the table, even as her wingleader
leans forward. "Oh, well, I suppose it's nothing that won't be known. It's
only, I don't know much myself." The corner of her mouth pulls askew. "It
happened this afternoon. Dianneth actually bespoke Naelanth," which the
green hardly ever condescends to do, "and told him that Ys needed me. By
the time I got to the lakeshore, she was is tears, and K'ran looked upset.
He's -moving-, or something. I couldn't get much more out of her. I really
didn't want to try, truth be told. It was hard enough to get her to calm
down a bit." Her hands drop from the edge of the table to her lap, and
she's less inclined, less interested, even, in talking about this next:
"It's a Weyr, I know, and relationships aren't the same -- friendships
either. I thought it'd be awful silly to get all in a huff over something
like that. But seeing Ys. I don't know." Not much clarification there; she
only nods at the last.

And doesn't that skipping make Kassi look suspicious? There's other gossip
afoot, however, to distract her for now. "From the sound of that," she
says, slowly, "I wonder if'n she didn't after all read more into the
relationship than there was. Nay that I could entirely blame her, the way
he was... courting her, I suppose, at the graduation. I wonder if'n he's
weyrmating t'Tarien at last. 'Twould be the only reason for him t'move that
I could think of." Her head shakes slightly. "I really thought she
knew--she seemed casual about it, when she was speaking with Kich a'fore
Meri and I, but the emotions, they don't always follow logic or reason, and
mayhaps 'tis what happened t'her... I really couldn't be saying." Jumping
to the other topic: "Relationships--and friendships--don't *have* t'be that
different. For every rider who seems t'go t'bed with all their friends,
there's one who sticks mainly to one man or woman, either whom they're
seeing or whom they're weyrmated to. 'Tis more a matter of how the person
is than how *Weyrlife* is, I sometimes think? 'Tis only because of flights
that we have t'be more flexible; none of us *have* t'be promiscuous or like
promiscuity. Which is getting off the subject. D'you think you'd start
having feelings for G'rint if'n 'twere intimate with him? 'Twill nay deny
it t'you, that has been known t'happen."

"Truly, I don't know much about the relationship. I haven't been that
comfortable discussing it with her. As long as she was -happy- ... "
Javinia's shoulder lifts and falls again. "And she seemed fine with the
whole thing when Kich came by the other night. I thought that was -sure- to
be awkward." A slight shake of her head tells the tale: it wasn't -- at
all. She considers the greenrider's next words, rolling them over as she
does the chicken on her plate. "True. It -is- the flights that make it
difficult. I never was half so worried about such things before." -- before
Telgar. "I thought I was rather open-minded, even. But now I'm so deadly
-dull- about everything. I don't like it at all." This mostly to herself.
Blinking, she looks up. "G'rint? Oh, well, Gay and I talked about it once,
and we both thought we'd want it to be with someone we actually liked. But
now I think that might be more complicated. I don't think -I'd- have
feelings for G'rint, more than I do now, but it'd bother me if I lost his
friendship."

"They seemed comfortable enough with each other in the Springs. I thought
'twas a good sign," Kassi confesses, abandoning her lean to run her fingers
back over her hair. "I'truth, she *wanted* t'talk t'Kich about it all and
didn't seem distressed in the asking. I'd like well t'know just what ended
that comfort level. But I don't think I could ask Ys yet. Too tasteless; we
don't know each other quite so well." Well, but onward: "Nor are you alone.
I doubt half of those who Impress thought much of it a'fore, else the
flight lecture wouldn't be so full of blushing and fidgeting as it nigh
always is. Watch what you're calling deadly dull, though! You aren't *dull*
if'n you're uncomfortable at the thought of bedding strangers, or nay sure
you want t'hop between the furs with this man and the other. Everyone has a
different comfort level with such things. Mayhaps later you'll be... looser
about such things, if'n you want t'be; or you won't, and that's fine too.
There's plenty of time. I should well know. I'd go for someone you actually
like if'n you can," she agrees, switching topics again, if only slightly.
"Someone you *trust*, best of all. What's his viewpoint? Is he more
classically Holder-minded, or promiscuous himself?"

Javinia finishes playing with her chicken, finally pushing it away. "It
-was- good," she admits. "I wish I'd known. I'd not have taken third meal."
It's a way to elide over some of that commentary, especially when she finds
herself without real comment. Some of her buouyancy returns with the
greenrider's chide, and she acknolwedges it with a laugh. "Oh, well, that's
not exactly what I meant by dull, but you're right, I know. The beauty of a
Weyr. You -can- be who you want to be. That means much -- to a lot of us."
By us, she might be referring to her fellow weyrlings, all riders now, and
scattered; the tone holds a wistful note. Blinking, "Whose viewpoint?
G'rint's? Oh," as if she's never considered that, "I'm not really sure.
He's ... well, he's -G'rint-. I wouldn't call him promiscuous. I don't even
know if he's bedded anyone at all. I suppose I'd just rather he ask Tray or
someone else."

"You might be able t'get a cloth or something t'wrap it in, t'bring it back
t'Telgar with you, if'n you wouldn't mind it warmed over in the kitchens,"
Kassima offers. Her own plate is nearly cleared. "What did you mean, then?
It does, though. To a lot of us." And there, the implication is of the
other riders, the older ones, of something they might all hold in common.
"You aren't expected t'necessarily *approve* of what someone else does,
either, just accept it; methinks that's valuable, too. The right t'be and
think as you like. Huh; if'n you'd really rather he asked someone else,
that seems an answer right there, as t'how you should be replying t'him
should the subject come up."

Javinia glances down at her chicken. "Truly? There's an idea. I hadn't even
considered that." It's not the only thing she hadn't considered. Trust
Kassima to draw that out of her. She brightens perceptibly at the ease with
which the greenrider susses out the answer for her. "You're right." Then,
brighter still, "You're right." She rewards her wingleader with two quick
dimples. "Thanks, Kassi." That cleared up, it's so much easier to turn to
other topics. "Tolerance. Tolerance is welcome. -- And I only meant that I
don't want to get old and stuffy. I feel stuffy sometimes." Her nose
wrinkles with the admission. "But only sometimes."

Kassima flashes a smile in exchange, one of her brighter and warmer ones;
she's so clearly pleased to have been of service that there's almost no
need to say, "M'pleasure. You're welcome, a'course, Javi." The last
rivergrain is chased around the plate; full, now, the greenrider leans back
in her chair, and holds up her empty glass, giving Marcus a plaintive look.
"Blue this time, Marcus, please? --Ah, well, old and stuffy. Would it help
any t'know I feel stuffy sometimes too? Even frequently. However,
sometimes, when I'm tired of being down on m'self, I ask m'self, 'What is
it that I'm nay doing, that I feel stuffy for nay doing?' And if'n 'tis,
'I'm nay getting out and having fun,' or, 'I'm putting in extra time on
duties instead of doing something I enjoy,' I can fix that; if'n 'tis,
'Because all m'time is spent on duties and children,' I can't fix that but
I can at least know I'm stuffy for the right reasons; and if'n 'tis,
'Because I'm nay like everyone else, I don't have tons of men or go about
flirting or sleep with someone new every sevenday,' I ask m'self, 'What
about any of that is *wrong*?' The answer is, naught. I might nay live as
spicy a life as some others, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm living
the wrong way and should change if'n I'd be uncomfortable trying t'live
that other sort of life. Did that make the least bit of sense at all?"

That smile gets an echoing grin from the young hazel-eyed rider, and
Javinia seems to ease back into her chair, lifting her arms up over her
head to stretch -- for the good meal, the lift of care. "No, that makes
absolute sense," she admits. "Though, in truth, I'm not worried about who I
sleep with, or don't. When, maybe. But, in the end, it's rather pointless
to worry overmuch about such things, no? Best to get over heavy ground
lightly and be done with it. Least I've not the responsibility of children,
or the duties you must have," especially as wingleader. "But you're right,
stuffy is mendable." Her grin quirks here, and her hands tuck her short,
dark hair back behind her ears on their way down to her lap. A single drink
and she already looks a little tired, as if it were just enough to ease her
into the night.

"Well, but I suppose. Call it m'own preoccupation coming to the fore and
making a nuisance of itself then, rather than something particular so much
t'you. There is a saying similar to what you've just said: 'If'n you have
t'cross thin ice, cross it in a dance!'" Kassi sing-songs that more than
speaking it, and toasts the thought cheerfully with her newly-acquired
glass. "Someday you might have children or duties; who knows? But even
*those* don't have t'make you stuffy if'n you don't want t'be. At least nay
past a point. Stuffiness is like age; at least half of it is mental, and it
goes back t'that whole being whatever you *want* t'be thing." One of her
brows quirks up, and she gives the younger rider an amused look over her
glass's rim. "But here I'm nattering and nattering, and you're looking
tired. Am I correct in guessing you've mayhaps had your fill of the liquor,
and we can call your introduction to the Lounge a fair success?"

"If you have to cross thin ice, cross it in a dance," Javinia repeats,
though more slowly, without the greenrider's accent; it's as if she's
trying the saying out, or putting it to memory. "That has a nice lilt to
it." She can only smile and nod at the rest, her smile quirking higher, as
if it's clear this were a dear subject. "You're absolutely right." No
argument, no counter comment. That simple. Her dimples are as ingenuous.
"Oh, well, maybe a little. That's awfully pitiful, no?" But, as if
remembering something, she pushes back her chair and heads over to the
wall, the one chipped smooth and written upon. She fusses over there for a
bit, before looking rather pleased with herself. "That'll do. It's not
creative, but ... "

Javinia scribbles something on the wall.

[Editor's Note:  I'll have the entire wall's contents in the 
log a bit later, but to ensure the RP makes sense, here's what
Javi wrote. ;) ]


---

*** I will not sleep with G. -- J.

---


"There's something a touch cheerfully fatalistic about it, almost, but I've
always liked it. Liked the songs about dancing with death too. If'n you're
going t'do something dangerous, do it with joy; if'n you're going t'die,
then go out in a blaze." Rage, rage against the dying of the light. But
Kassi's not Dylan; she doesn't know that one. "I'll bring this up should
anyone ever wonder why I like you," she teases. "This telling me I'm
absolutely right about something thing. Pitiful? Only for me. I didn't
manage t'cajole you into any intoxication at *all*. Shameful, just
shameful. But there can always be other occasions t'discover the joys of
drinking, hey, should you be so minded?" She's as cheerful about that as
she's been about so much else. Of course, when Javi moves to write, she has
to abandon her own chair to follow--and read--and, when she's read, double
over with helpless snickers. "Now *that*," she manages to say at length,
"is beautiful."

"Do you think that comes with being a rider? That attitude?" Javinia
wonders, not necessarily even posing the question for answer. "I wonder how
all that will change when the Pass ends." Thoughtful silence, broken by a
quick quirk of grin, brighter hazel eyes. "Ah-ha! Now when Naelanth and I
dip out of formation, I'll know best how to placate you: Yes, Wingleader,"
she bows. "You're right, Wingleader. Of course, Wingleader." It really -is-
all in good fun, and it brings her enthusiasm back. "You'll have to show me
some of the other places to see, though I admit I rather like this place."
-- a cock of her head to regard that wall again. She seems of two minds
about her own scrawl: dubious and somehow satisfied. "It seemed appropriate."

Kassima purses her mouth in thought, but ultimately shakes her head--if
slowly, and clearly not unreservedly. "Nay necessarily. I mean... oft, 'tis
likely something that comes with fighting Thread, the need t'face the
possibility of your own death and laugh at it, because how else could you
go out into Fall again and again? Only some of us are convinced until we
die of our own immortality--often the youngest, but 'tis most often the
youngest who die, note--and others just choose nay t'think about it at all.
Or when they do, they do it good and drunk so the pain is numbed." She
lifts her shoulders, shrugging. "Whatever lets 'em bear it. Oh, now, don't
fool yourselves!" The greenrider's laughing, though, and toasts Javi again
with the glass. "But I'd half like t'see you *try* it, just t'see the
expressions on the others' faces--I can be doing that. The Hulk, the
Waverider, the Dawn Sisters, they're all worth seeing. And sometime we must
come back here and do the vine a'fore we come up... or after we've been
drinking, whichever. Isn't it, though?" Appropriate. "And different.
There's naught like *that* on the wall already."

Javinia hears her wingleader out, nodding in thought, brows drawing down at
the mention of Thread, but it's her mouth that tightens when she points out
that it's the youngest who die. M'guel. The weyrling wing -did- lose one,
before graduation even. It leaves her without anything to say, only another
nod. Yes. True. At least the laughter comes easily. "They'd never let me
live it down at mealtimes if I did such a thing. I'm still the new rider in
the wing. I'm not sure I can take more ribbing." But it's light, this.
"-After- we've been drinking. Most definitely. -- Oh, I don't know. There's
-much- on that wall. I still like the idea of the handprint best."

The glance Kassi gives her Wingmate is sympathetic, bordering on
apologetic, but not quite there--as might be expected after speaking an
unfortunate truth. She welcomes the subject change readily enough. "Now,
now, Taylin's newer than you; she should be taking on her share! Still. For
what 'tis worth, it probably means you're fitting in well enough, if'n
they're teasing you. Faranth knows most of us tease each other all the
time. Ask Miryenne sometime about the raunchy limericks she wrote about
V'dan t'make him blush." Oh, the horror. "I'm for limericks of the
non-raunchy variety m'self," she says, "but they have gotten a bit less
than original... next time I add something, 'twill need a new thought.
Mayhaps I could draw a big blood-shot bugged-out eye. T'go with the 'parts
of the body' theme."

"True enough. Nursery rules: they hit you because they like you. Or some
such. You know, the way boys were always pulling your braids in harper
lessons." Javinia's nearly smirking now. "Do you know, some boy cut a whole
section of my braid once, and I never even knew it until I got home, and
Frenese undid my hair, and it all fell out. -- Boys." Perhaps it's this
sudden thought that makes Kassima's latest suggestion appealing. "There you
are. Body part for body part."

Kassima's grin is wicked. "Ah, now, *that* I managed t'be escaping--a
pleasant side-effect of taking lessons from m'grandfather and uncle, and
everything being in the family, and, a'course, me training with knives from
eight on. Nay pulling on Cousin Kassi's hair where Grandsire Keyssin can
see! She might stab you! Nay that I wore braids until after 'twas a rider,
oddly. Did that lad escape with his life?" she asks, wondering, though it's
light enough that she's *probably* not expecting him to turn out dead. "I'd
have wanted t'kill him. Lads *are* such beasts. I hope Kaswyn grows up t'be
having better manners; Kris at least seems t'have." She mulls. "Think you I
should do it, then? Tonight?"

Javinia's interest lights her eyes, chases that smirk away. "That's right.
Your knives. I do forget that. That would certainly make a difference." A
soft bit of grin touches her mouth. "Actually, my brother punched him --
the boy who cut my braid. I think it's the only time he ever did something
like that. He really couldn't be bothered, you know, most other times."
Thinking, "Kris. Kris does your accounts? -- Oh, why not if the whim's upon
you." She's stifling a yawn now, though, and hazel eyes go flat for the
briefest of moments. "Naelanth," she says, as if that should explain it
all, and she starts heading over toward the ladder, only pausing with a
sharp, "Feh!" when she remembers to pay Marcus. That done, she's saying,
"Meet you outside?"

"I remember m'offer t'teach you t'handle knives sometime if'n you want.
Just let me know when you've time and inclination," Kassi offers, grinning
at that interest. "Ah, see, brothers do have uses! Occasionally. Nay enough
t'make me wish I'd had one, mind. Kris does m'accounts indeed; m'eldest
son, quiet, thoughtful. Polite. He's a most unnatural lad." There's love in
her voice, not condemnation of any kind for all the jest. "--Will do!
'Twill just pay up our tab and draw the eye and be right out. Glad you
liked seeing the Lounge, Javi."

Kassima scribbles something on the wall.

Kassima reads the fifth section of the wall.


---

The fifth section of the wall has been christened on day 16, month 9, Turn
37, of the Tenth Pass (10/10/01). Enjoy!
-Lady Dy

*** Raeche from Fort Weyr is easy!
*** Kindre was here - again - on her 43rd turnday - my how the time has
flown. Cheers to Boll!
*** Five walls of scripted memories, five tributes to the past; five saved
records of the words of some now lost to time--in honor of these walls,
this Lounge, I'll lift a toasting glass... and doubtless drink myself too
drunk to find a decent rhyme. -- Kassima, after just *one* glass of Green
Dragon. Honest.
*** Teria has the hottest Weyr on Pern! ;)
*** Dendra turned 27 turns old today! What a place to celebrate the
occasion! (Too bad Keara couldn't be here to help turn the guys to mush.)
*** Someebody was here // someone is likely gone. // If you're not that
someone // I'm sorry, I drank your beer. -- Anonymous
*** Telgar has taken controll of the lounge this night.
*** Alas, Cheni of Braddle Hold began the quick slide into corruption at
the hands of Telgari riders and residents.
*** *notably untidy scrawl* 8-16, Turn 41, we were here // Teria and U'yn
// Shared kisses, shared beer // What in Faranth's name rhymes with U'yn?
-- Teria.
*** Help, I'm being corrupted! Save me! - Ysabel, on her first visit to the
Lava Lounge
*** Flight-lost, storm-tossed, I feel like a chunk of moss - I hate poetry.
*** All Igen bronzeriders riding dragons starting with K should be hung by
their ears from a clothesline from the rest of their natural lives! - T
*** Ode to S'din
There once was a rider from Reaches
Who wore some really tight breeches
he ran into some plants
who tore open his pants
And now there's a draft when he teaches
By Matheny
*** Ode to S'rist
There once was a weyr's fearless leader
Whose bronze was a high flying speeder
With all said and done
He'd so many flights won
he became known as a sure fire breeder
*** Ode to Jacera
Jacera was a known sucubbi
As the 'Reaches could all testify
She'd lock all the doors
And butter the floors
Then she'd grab anyone who slid by!
*** Ode to Rilsa
There once was a rider of brown
Who was known to wear a man down
she'd devour their heart
and that's just the start
to how earn'd she a most evil crown
*** Amilin wore a pretty new frock
That found her a most handsome jock
but the G rating can't fail
and so ends this tale
With a dragon who loved playing rock!
*** There once was a rider, G'non
Who rode sweeps without a stitch on
Then one day bad luck
for frostbite, it struck
thus ending his future to spawn!

*** Two of the letter 'S' find themselves here, entwined top-to-bottom,
scrawled by a simple, '31-2, t.43'
*** A brown and a green met a blue
Both claiming they'd little to do
but two drinks too many
and they spilled plenty
about hiding from you know who!
~Ami~
*** Duties are not performed for duty's sake, but because their neglect
makes a person feel like utter crap. And guilty, too.
*** Terrilia was here...many times. ;)
*** Now, why would anyone want to go and write on this... what? Oh, shards!
Sorry about that - Learan
*** Hand Check
*** Drink Drank Drunk, Marcuse I'll have another drink tonight. Jman Starry
Rhone.
*** Is it true what bollianites don't wear beneath thier Kilts. Anyone for
ring toss when he passes out.
*** That which is beautiful may sometimes be good...but that which is good
is /always/ beautiful. -- Sebring/Dalegard Trader Falan
*** I will not sleep with G. -- J.
*** For some reason, an artistic soul has drawn an unnaturally large
eyeball here.

---


Javinia tilts her head. "Oh, I'll have those lessons. Something for the
earbobs, at least." But there's only good-natured teasing in that.
Something that easily trips into laughter. "He sounds like a rather
wonderful son," she admits, then with a nod, "Excellent. And thanks for the
taking me out, buying me a bit of something to drink -- but more, for the
talk. I appreciate it." -- and before that can draw out into any
awkwardness, she's down the ladder.

Javinia climbs down the crude ladder.