--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Kalifornia Kaisan


Dates:  November 10, November 17, November 20, and December 3, 2003
Places:  Telgar Weyr Workroom; Lysseth and Kassima's Weyr
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kassi's Note:  You may have noticed something unusual about the date
line up there.  This scene was a bit peculiar in that it took place
over four different RP sessions, on four different days:  I'sai's
computer took a dive shortly before the baby was due, and it took 
him awhile to get a new one.  In the meanwhile, he could only sign on
intermittently.  He was great about trying to get this scene finished
ASAP, though, and despite the breaks I really enjoyed it and think 
it's a very good log. :)  So!  Kassi's latest kidlet is finally ready
to be born; will everything go well?  Will Kisai like her brother?  
And most importantly, will the new father give the new mother a 
certain Healer's severed head as a birthing present? ;)  Either road,
thank you a thousand times, Is, for the plot in general and this 
absolutely wonderful RP in particular. :)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Log:

You push aside the curtain and enter the workroom.

A cluster of Sunstrike riders is just now heading off to sweeps in a jingle
of harness and creak of leather, abandoning I'sai with a clap on his
shoulder and attendant low laughter; he calls after them, "Proof! Proof, I
say! It'll only support a -little- spoon these days, an' you have to prop
it just right - " and it's then, when they've dispersed, that he sees his
black-haired friend and those pale eyes light. "_Kassi_. There you are."

It's early in the day, these days, for Kassi to be up and about, a fact
which shows itself in the dark smudges under her eyes and that yawn she
hides behind a fist. The mug of something with the distinctive scent of
warm milk might also be a clue. Soon there will be clues enough for the
Scooby Gang to solve the mystery! When those Sunstrike riders exit, she
clears to the side to give them room--absently, though; she's seen the
rider they've left behind. "A *little* spoon?" she can't help repeating,
before a smile blossoms: "Is! You've escaped the Smiths intact for another
day! What, were you looking for me?"

"Klah, klah," I'sai answers her, extravagantly shielding the top of his mug
with both cupped hands, "Nothing you get. Not unless you want you-know-who
to get a little extra kicking advantage in life... and of course I was
looking for you. Didn't Tear say? Or - no, he's soaking, and says he's not
about to be apologetic when he knew we'd find each other any road. I've
mint supplies, rocks, but alas, no songs for you."

Kassima drifts towards where he is, making a show of looking from the klah,
to him, to the klah, and back to him, all with large and terribly plaintive
eyes. "You're a cruel, cruel man," she chides, with no heat at all. "But
you'd better believe I don't, since she's kicking strong enough that she'd
probably knock that spoon you spoke of clear across the table as we speak.
Tear has m'thanks for his confidence in m'ability t'hunt you down, if'n
that's what you'd call it." Her eyes gleam green. "And for *mint* 'twill
thank you forever. I ate all the last and the Healers have taken t'*hiding*
theirs! Had t'go pick some from the herb garden, would you believe! Alas
for nay songs, but rocks? What's this?"

"I can call it that if you want," I'sai says affably, daring to leave his
klah vulnerable as he bends to pull up a sack from his feet; he rummages
through it, leaving a miscellany of items be, and eventually comes up with
a wrapped packet - presumably the mintsticks - and from his jacket pocket,
a velveteen packet that, unlike the other, he opens before sliding over:
small spheres, equal in size, the sort of thing that could be used for
playing marbles. "I got ahold of one of their sample packs. That one, the
turquoise, see how it's got the veins? And onyx," he's careful with that
one, lest it leave fingerprints, "coral... you can see the rest for yourself."

Kassima has to laugh, while taking the liberty of helping herself to a seat
and setting the mug of milk down on the table. "It suits as well as aught."
Isn't she well-behaved? She gives the klah more longing looks, but doesn't
attempt to steal it. She and the klah are the love that can never be. The
Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name. Violins are playing somewhere as we
speak. The wrapped packet is taken with a beaming smile of gratitude, and
set down so she can rummage in her satchel for her trusty silver
holder--oh, but hold that thought. She's been distracted by jewels. "Oh,"
she exclaims softly, nudging this marble, picking up that one to examine
more closely. "Is, how lovely--I've seen marbles a'fore, but never made
from stones like this, never. They're beautiful."

I'sai grins slantwise, watching her, and after a few moments says, "Glad
you like them. I figured you could give 'em to Kiss if you didn't... but
you have first dibs. How are you feeling?" Meanwhile, the klah, what's left
of it, reflects such adoration with dark aplomb. Violins, play on!

Kassima doesn't answer right away, so enchanted with the marbles is
she--the glossy polish, the click-click sounds they make when she taps them
oh-so-lightly together. "I do," she looks up to assure with all sincerity,
grinning her delight. "Y'know me and jewels of all kinds, *and*
marbles--though I'm nay going t'tell T'van I have these! He'd bring up
strip marbles again! Kiss would doubtless love them too, but I'm going t'be
hideous and wicked and selfish and keep them for m'self." The question gets
a sigh of commingled frustration and amusement. "I never thought I'd be
*grateful* for false labor, but would you believe I am this time--'twas
worried when 'twas so near the nine-month mark without a sign, but now I
figure this evil spawn of yours is nearly ready t'be born. And then it can
kick *you*. Couldn't sleep a whit tonight, though, for all the kicking and
twinging."

I'sai lightly clicks tongue against palate once, twice, once she's stopped
- just to see whether she might think it's them. "Strip -marbles-? I think
you should," he teases. "T'van'll be blissful for sevendays. And yes,
please, be selfish; you needn't even show them to her, lest you get the
'what about meeeee,' and I'd rather you get the only set. Well, only set
for me, at any length. Twinging, eh? Sorry you couldn't sleep, though I
suppose it's no surprise, really. How bad's it been, are they getting any
closer together?"

Kassima looks back towards the marbles at those clicks, surprised, and then
gives them the squinting of their life: are they conspiring against her?
Are they the minions in some dark and wicked plan of I'sai's? She taps one
gently just to be sure. "I'saiiii!" she protests, trying to make it sound
like a wail; it sounds more like a laugh. "Thankee--I think!--for the
compliment, but I doubt 'twould be true right *now* even if'n 'twould
normally. And I just may keep them my secret. Our secret marbles." That
gets a smile. "T'go with the two-marker that's only ours. 'Twill wait
t'leave them t'her in m'legacy. How bad... I've certes felt worse, but bad
enough." She places a hand over the rounding of her abdomen, wincing. "They
all are. Mayhaps a bit closer. Seemed like every hour or so, when 'twas
*first* trying t'sleep, but less than that now."

I'sai's ever-sharp features shade unconscionably pleased; "You called?" he
says, and then listens, only to say gravely, "Just don't lose them. Your
marbles. ...Less now?" He stands to approach her more closely, glance
checking with her first before moving to set a hand next to hers.

"I always call you," Kassima says pertly, "when there's wickedness afoot.
Because I know that somehow, someway, you're *always* responsible." That
has more the tone of compliment than insult. But of course it does. "--Ah,
'tis well-cautioned. For I lost m'first set, didn't I, long and long
agone... *these* I'd nay wish t'lose. More fun they are than the ones 'twas
born with." She nods her permission, moving her hand slightly to leave
room, and--the muscle there is tensed, as might be expected, staying thus
for several seconds before relaxing. Afterwards there's a nudge from
within, if not very strong; "I don't think the kidlet likes that--the
twinging, I mean, nay your touch--much more than I do."

"Always?" Wide eyes, there. "You know I never intend to be _responsi_-" and
Is breaks off as those eyes narrow, gauging the duration. "Now, that was an
earthshake. Can't blame her for not liking it much; I expect it's cozy in
there. And you say it's been... let's wait to see how long till the next one."

Kassima teases, after a deep breath inhaled and exhaled, "Shall we say
t'blame instead, then? Because aye, Faranth forfend you should ever be
known by such a dirty word as *that*." Her nod of agreement is decidedly
wry. "She must think so, since she's clung to the nest so stubbornly. All
right...." Nor is it so very long a wait: perhaps ten minutes, though not
likely in full, pass before she draws in a sharp breath at another spasm of
muscle. "--That was *nay* fifteen minutes."


[Editor's Note:  The first break occured here.  There's a bit 
of a fast forward:  the scene resumes as the two riders head
for Kassi's weyr, where she's chosen to deliver their child.]


Lysseth's wingbeats in coming here are too fast, too flurried, and it's
frankly a wonder that she manages to land without either smacking into the
Bowl wall or accidentally ending up on the wrong ledge; it's probably a
good thing for all considered that Kassi herself is calmer. For now. Don't
expect this state to last. "I could wish 'twere a way t'make dragons
understand birth," she says with a sigh when on firm ground again, "and
*remember* what they understand. Bloody shells and shards... are you
certain you can stay? The Smiths aren't going t'cause a panic at your
absence?" She sounds genuinely concerned beneath a bit of rueful amusement,
further proof that it's still relatively early. She's not yet planning his
bloody, grisly death.

Taralyth's swift behind her, wings cutting the crisp air, but in the end
circles till Lysseth's safely down; only then does he narrow his route down
to join her on that smaller ledge, warbling - warning to the neighbors?
Something. "I..." by I'sai's tone, he hadn't quite thought of that, but a
few moments more and his expression lightens, "It's all right now, but I'm
going to -owe- Ursa. But you're worth it," and he raises his eyebrows at
her: remember that when it comes to the bloody, grisly bits. "...In you go.
Wait. Healer's coming? Or do I - "

Kassima's neighbors are probably far too used to yells and epithets coming
from this weyr, directed towards the fire-lizards if nothing else; granted,
Lysseth's humming or the anxious thwappity-thwap of her restless, flicking
tail might be new. She does at least pause in fretting long enough to make
sure there's room for Taralyth. There's just never any excuse for poor
hospitality. "We'll see if'n you'll be saying that when it comes to the
bloody, grisly bits," Kassi quips, but she's grinning, and reaches to give
his shoulder a squeeze before ducking into the weyr. "Glad the Smiths won't
slaughter you. That's going t'be *my* job. Oh, shells, we didn't get a
Healer, did we? We should've stopped at the Infirmary and picked one up--"

Taralyth will understand the lack of minted wherry juleps, however. This
time. "Yeah, yeah," and his rider follows hers in, Taralyth crowding to
peek over her shoulder and _see_ - "Better this way, if you didn't want
them trying to make you -stay- there," Is decides. "And..." but it'll be
some moments more before again there's the sound of dragonwings, and a
young brown trying to negotiate the ledge for just long enough.

Good; then Lysseth won't have to go all Southern Belle on him later and
thwap him with her lace fan for not being a proper gentleman. As for
current time, she permits *him* to share her peeping space through the weyr
entrance--once their riders are both within, she's prompt to duck her head
through the curtain--but that young brown is just out of luck. Poor thing.
"In the Infirmary?" Kassi asks, grimacing. "Nay kidding. Give me the choice
of where t'be stuck for a few days and 'twill say here anyti--ooh." She
breaks off, folding her arms around her midriff and drawing in slow, deep
breaths. "...They're getting worse. I didn't like that at *all*. You
remember the part of this where I get t'break your hand, right?" As the
sound of dragonwings heralds the new arrival, she adds, "And other favorite
parts of yours, if'n that ends up being Ushu? Well, but that's unfair. 'Tis
favorite parts of *his* I should break."

"Though this doesn't exactly have a ramp..." and then, quickly, "Definitely
-his- favorite parts. And his favorite parts aren't exactly my favorite
parts, if you see what I mean, they're -his-," Is hastily points out, just
before the healer scrambles down and tries to make his... her? way through
the dragons. Soon, the healer's identity will be revealed! "You all right?
Is it normal?"

Kassima admits, straightening, "That's where begging and pleading
m'Wingmates t'help me out came in last time... oh, nay? Well. Shells. There
goes the scandalous song 'twas planning t'write about *you* in revenge if'n
this doesn't go well." She's a little too deadpan to be serious. Hopefully.
"But I have t'leave your favorite parts alone, because you still haven't
had twelve children; and who's t'say? I might regret the loss later.
Satisfying as 'tis starting t'look *now*...." For all of that, she flicks
him a distracted but real smile for the query. "It seems fair normal.
They're speeding up; can't regret if'n that means 'tis sooner, but the
Healer will be in a better position t'say, I suppose--" Pause. "Pun more
unintended than I can possibly express." Lysseth, fortunately or
unfortunately for the Healer, does shift aside enough to make entrance
possible... if not necessarily easy.

And lo, the healer hath arrived! I'sai eyes the crafter up and down, pale
eyes a warning, before he eases up for Kassima's sake; "Yes, well. Soon is
good. As long as everything stays in one... yeah." - "Do a good job with
her," this presumably for the healer, "Or else."

Kassima's eyeing of the Healer starts out more wary, than warning, at least
until her own eyes widen--"You!" This would seem to be a good time for her
to attempt to hide behind I'sai, at least a little. Scooch, scooch. "You're
the one who's always refusing t'share the mintsticks! He chased me through
the Infirmary the last time I tried to steal some!" she explains for Is's
benefit, quite as if she were the wronged party here. "Are you sure Ushu
wasn't available? At least he'd just faint, so there'd ultimately be nay
harm done, though you'd probably have t'deliver the baby then. Which
doesn't make the best incentive t'look him up, does it." Welcome to Belated
Realization Theater. "I like the threatening him for me part, though. You
won't let him try t'smack m'wrists with a tongue-depresser again, right?
Right?"

"With a..." I'sai turns, and says very sternly, "No smacking her wrists
with a tongue-whatsit!" and gets a sideways, decidedly quirky smile in
reply that encourages him to reinforce, "And I mean that! Ushu will just
have to live in envy," or something, "over your seeing to a mighty
wingleader. So..." I'sai steps back towards Kassima, "Make yourselves, ah.
Comfortable."

"Envy might nay be quite the word," Kassi mutters from her safe place
behind I'sai, still eyeing the ever-so-fearsome Yancy over the
bronzerider's shoulder. A shame Pern doesn't have warding gestures; she'd
be making some. "'Comfortable' might nay be quite the word either, but I'd
personally be much happier lying down, so--uh, but this dress, it might nay
be ideal for spawning in." No, *really*. But cut her some slack: by the
hissing of breath between her teeth, she has good reason to not be thinking
clearly just at the moment.

I'sai, at the healer's 'do you want me to go back or what?' look,
sidesteps: there, there's better access. "So... let's get you changed. You
brought what you need with you, man, right?" Yancy frowns, then is
sufficiently distracted from his victim to get to work, bringing out
bleached sheets and such from his sack; meanwhile, I'sai starts mumbling
about heating some water.

It's hard for Kassi, distraction or not, not to watch the unveiling of
Healer equipment without foreboding; still, she summons the presence of
mind to say, "There's a rust-colored nightgown in the wardrobe I wore when
'twas Keveris; Is, d'you think you could...?" While she gets rid of jewelry
and knives and other such things. And, while setting aside the knife or two
she was still wearing for old time's sake, perhaps giving yon Healer an
entirely-too-thoughtful look.

"When you... ah, yes," and I'sai goes rummaging, and he's not above doing a
little more looking even when the nightgown's already found. As for the
healer, he smiles at her with suspicious gentleness, like a herder soothing
a heifer.

Funny how that only makes Kassi warier, isn't it? To the point where she
starts edging surreptitiously away. "--Is, wasn't it right out in front? I
thought I had it ready; what's taking so long?"

Luckily, the healer doesn't chase after her this time. "Almost there,
almost there," I'sai meanwhile distractedly says, "You know what
firelizards can do and... ah, is this it?" and he holds up something that
is decidedly not a rust-colored concealing sort of gown... and -then- the
real thing, after.

Now there's a unique way of conquering--temporarily--Kassi's fear of the
Healer: make her stare and turn red, because she wasn't in bad enough
straits already. "*I'sai*! Don't show that t'*him*!" And, hastily added,
"A'course 'tisn't--this is about having a baby, nay bloody *making* one...
there, aye, *that's* it. Thankee. Sort of."

[Editor's Note:  At this point, I changed my status in
honor of the spawning.  I'm including the +rwho below for
kicks. ;) ]


---

  Name           Sex   Position         Status                       Idle  Q
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Bronwynn       (F)   Wingsecond                                      1m    
* I'sai          (M)   WLM/Watchrider   OOC=BackW/Comptr.IC=Baby.     33s    
* J'lyn          (M)   Greenrider       Older than K'nan!             23m    
* J'raen         (M)   Bluerider        I rarely change this.         12m    
* Jehrina        (F)   Retired WW       Still not king                54m    
* K'ran          (M)   Weyrleader       Wanted: CCs!                  43m    
* Kassima        (F)   Wingleader       EvrybodyWasKungFuSpawning      0s    
* L'han          (M)   Wingsecond       Now with 1.42 GHz!             1m    
* Lanisa         (F)   Weyrchild        StealingAllTheCookies :)       5m    
* S'dar          (M)   Bronzerider                                     1m    
* Ursa           (F)   Brownrider       BwareBwareBAVeryWaryBear      11m   
------------------------------- ( 11 players ) ------------------------------

---


"What?" I'sai turns; the garment waves in the wind, quite lacily. "Where
should I put - oh, back in? All right," and he actually complies, trotting
back over with the gown and holding it out where either Kassi or the healer
can take it.

"Anywhere where 'tisn't on display for Healers," Kassi manages to say
without squawking, somehow. It's a testimony to her self-control that she
takes the gown rather than snatching it; though she does hasten to do so
before Yancy can. Apparently, Yancy doesn't have a place on her list of
males who have a snowball's chance of ever helping her undress. Imagine
that. "*Why*," she has to ask in a muttered undertone, as she sets about
changing from one gown to another, "did you think the black lace could
*possibly* be what I meant? Now I'm nay sure whether t'try and be kind
t'you for the help and Healer-threatening, or just kill you faster."

I'sai's turned slightly to give her that much privacy as she undresses,
even if it's something the aunties would say was like shutting the
proverbial barn door, humming - oh, and also standing where he can help
shield her from Yancy's view - and decides affably, "You can figure it out
afterward."

Kassima slides out of and into clothing as quickly as she can manage, with
the hiss and rustle of cloth and a moment's pause for breath. Let us be
glad for the aunties' sake that they aren't here to say it where she can
hear--she might object to either one of them being compared to livestock,
all things considered. "You're such a *man*," she tells I'sai in
exasperation, because she needed some sort of comeback, even one that
doesn't cry to the heavens of her wit. "--All right. Is it all right t'lie
down? I'd like t'be lying down." That's to Yancy, with some genuine
anxiety. Because, evil fiend or not, he's a Healer, and she can at least
consider any advice he gives for the baby's sake whether or not she might
sooner kick him in the groin for her own.

"Thank you," I'sai says, rather brightly; as for the healer, he says, "If
your contractions, they're coming quickly, then you can lie down.
Otherwise, it's good for you to walk. Gravity, you know. Where's that
water?" and sends Is hurrying to check.

"Depends on how you define quickly. I'd say 'tis quickly. But then, one
every, oh, sevenday or so would be more quickly than 'twould enjoy, and I'm
blathering, aren't I." Not really a question, and she answers what question
there was by settling gingerly onto the bed and lying back against the
abundance of pillows. "D'you have any sort of pain-killing tea?" Kassi asks
hopefully. "Or pain-killing medicines? Or pain-killing aught at all?"

"We have a few things," the healer says, in a voice that tries to be
soothing, teeters on the edge, yet can't quite fall off. "Let's see..." and
he checks his bag quickly, coming up with a thing or two, by which point
I'sai's returned with the water. "Take a look and see how things are
doing?" the rider suggests.

One might think Yancy were the villain in a particularly gory horror
ballad, the way Kassi looks at him so worriedly. But so long as those
things aren't rose petals, it could always be worse. Right? *Right*? "Why
do I doubt," she says to Is, half-growl as it's on the edge of another
contraction, "that you'd suggest that if'n 'twere the one in m'place?"

"Because you're wise and... hey," and I'sai leaves the water where the
healer can reach it, moving back to her side. "That's looking like a hard
one. Would you like some rose petals?" - "Just kidding."

"You are an evil, evil, evil man," Kassima sighs as she reaches for the
part of I'sai's anatomy she gets to break. But how mad at him can she
really be? She doesn't try for anything but the hand. Witness thus the
benefits of being good to women in labor. "They're all getting t'be hard
ones--and as t'the question, I'd say, 'Aye, but only if'n I get t'bury
Yancy alive in 'em,' only 'tis going against m'self-preservation right now.
The contractions aren't yet *quite* bad enough that I've forgotten what
self-preservation is. Yet."

"Yet," I'sai agrees more quietly, relinquishing that hand - his right 
hand - into temporary custody; "Try... careful, Kassi. Breathe through it, 
all right? And if you have to let him see you scream, at least scream 
loudly."


[Editor's Note:  Here was the next scene break.  There's
no fast-forwarding this time.]


Kassima laces her fingers briefly through his, giving the hand a gentle
squeeze. Gratitude for the hand? For the acknowledgment of worse-to-come?
Warning of what she's about to do to it? It could well be all of the above.
"I'm breathing, I'm breathing," she mutters, but obediantly breathes that
much more deeply. "And 'twill take that t'heart. A shame your eardrums have
t'suffer too, but--" Apparently it's not shame enough to prevent one
impressively projected shriek, combined with an almost as impressive grip
of death on that hand she's holding. Lucky lady, getting to potentially
torment *two* men this way!

"That's right, no stopping breathing allowed - " and then I'sai ducks,
quite as if the shriek were physical instead of audible; Yancy's not so
lucky, all but squalling something about -gags-, and wounded though he is,
Is gives him a dirty look. Not that he was able to duck far, mind, hand
being held and all, and silently he waits out the next contraction.

It's a fairly long one: Kassi's voice is ragged by the time the yell
completely fades, and this might go far towards explaining why she rolls
her head to the side to demand, "Nay even on your part?" That this is said
more in weary exasperation than true ire is in turn explained by Yancy's
reaction--a squalling Healer almost, almost gets a tiny grin from her, even
at such a time as now, and she murmurs, "Serves him right for the lack of
painkillers." She gets in a few measured breaths after that before the next
one hits, worse than before and accompanied by not only more hand-clenching
but shrill notes that might make baby bats cry.

I'sai even goes so far as to put his spare hand, his uninjured hand, within
her range enough to offer a rub to her neck that's turning; "Painkillers
for you or for him?" he teases, softly, before the half-controlled wince
that follows the next contraction. Abruptly, a full fair of firelizards
suddenly appears above them, and for all that it's Kassima who's screaming,
it's Yancy towards whom they're looking to dive, claws out...

Kassima leans back into the neck rub when the contraction's passed--well,
half leans; half falls as tensed muscle abruptly lets go. "Oh, for me," she
answers in a murmur, eyes closed. "But if'n he does a *very good* job, and
promises me mint in infinite quantities in the future, mayhaps he could
have any left after you and I have taken our share." Ah, but those
fire-lizards! Those get her eyes to pop open, and for what's probably the
first time ever, she starts laughing, labor or no labor; laughing and
encouraging, "Go, 'lizards, go!" until her breath's seized by the next. Did
you know that very strange sounds occur when one tries to laugh and scream
at once? You do now. As for *her* 'lizards, they're staying perched where
they are, all about the room and humming an even more encouraging note than
before. It's not that they wouldn't like to join in, but too many cooks
might spoil the pie after all and we couldn't chance *that*.

"I'm rather glad I get my share," I'sai says with a faint, sideways smile
for the distraction's success; "Although... leftover painkillers, or
leftover mint?" And then, -then- the firelizards kick in; he glances over
to where Yancy's glowering up at them, eyes slitted against their onrush,
-this- short of cutting and running; Is blinks once, slowly, as they keep
flying until, with a creel of regret, they part just about the man's head,
afterward hurrying up to watch with Kassi's to make certain the poor healer
doesn't misbehave. Yancy, well, he rubs his head and says, "It's not
exactly as if I want this to take forever! Don't you go punishing me."

"Painkillers. He doesn't get *any* mint," Kassi decides, if so
breathlessly--and hoarsely--that comprehension may not be easy,
particularly since she's distracted on top of all of that by the fervent
need to *watch* this fire-lizard spectacle. Odd how the groan that excapes
her has the same regretful sound as that creel, no? "I don't want it t'take
forever *either*!" she feels obliged to point out. "And I hope to the
Sta--to all the stars it *won't*! How much longer?" This is more plaintive
than demanding.

"Hear that? No mint for you!" I'sai informs the poor healer, only to have
to quiet - right through the ripple of firelizard nervousness that is her
near-mention of -the- Star - for the other man's reply. Yancy's silent at
first, possibly gauging the situation with a professional's care, possibly
just making them wait... but then, no, another look beneath and he decides,
"You can push now. Yes, you're that far, I wouldn't have expected it but
that's right, you've had one or two before..." I'sai trades a look with
Kassima: one or two, indeed!

Kassima squeezes Is's hand again, probably meant to cheer him on. A shame
all the prior squeezing probably means this isn't so *kind* a way of
cheering as it might normally be. "One or two," she agrees as blandly as
possible after sharing that look. "I've just a wee, tiny bit of experience.
But nay *that* much, a'course. So 'twill probably keep on screaming like
the worst novice; I'm *dreadfully* sorry--" Well, yes, she probably is
dreadfully sorry, but more about the contraction she breaks off to push
through than for any discomfort for Yancy's ears that the accompanying
yelling might provide. "Auuuuugh!"

I'sai's shoulders make their way almost past his head at -that- last
scream, but as for Yancy, he's suddenly become a cheerleader: "There you
go! That's the spirit!" he yells, nigh as loud as she. But not quite.

Does this mean Is will soon be starring in an entire movie revolving around
his ability to shrink his head into his shoulders and say, 'Turtle,
turtle'? Or that Yancy will begin doing high kicks? Let us hope not.
Kassima is suffering enough already. "I want--this--baby--oooooooout!" she
wails after yet another contraction racks her body, because there just
wasn't enough vocalization going on already.

I'sai might hope not as well, but then Yancy choruses, "Ooooooooout!" a
third step lower, and then, why not? Call it peer pressure, but a beat
after the firelizards join in, I'sai gives it a try too, for a mighty if
painful chord. Yancy crouches lower, to see better: the little, is its head
truly crowning?

These three should form a chorus and take their act on the road. Of course,
Kassi would probably try to use Yancy's skull as a makeshift drum. The
neighbors must really be loving this--particularly after Lysseth adds in
her contralto contribution. "Methinks this is where I'm supposed t'yell,
'*You* did this t'me!' and aim a right hook at your eye. Will you forgive
me if'n I don't have the energy?" the mother-to-very-soon-be asks I'sai,
almost pathetically. The child had *better* be crowning, because either
mayhem or ruptured vocal chords seem apt to occur if it dawdles too long.

Taralyth, by contrast, stays silent. Could he be the amplifier, so the
whole neighborhood could hear? No, he wouldn't - couldn't - would he? "I'll
forgive you," his rider breaks off to say fondly, pressing Kassima's hand
in his. "If you want, though, we can tell everyone you did and it hurt a
lot and so forth and..." what's that? Yancy yelling some more? But with
actual words this time? "If you want to catch it, you better hurry up!"

Kassima is heedless of the suffering of her neighbors in any event, too
preoccupied by her own. Besides, maybe they'll enjoy the concert? "You're
so good t'me," Kassi replies, mustering a wan smile and tightening her
fingers briefly. "Can we tell them I set you on fire too?" You know, this
is probably not a question one often hears asked with affection. The
yelling--well, the yelling and further primal agonies that cause further
primal howling--gets her attention enough that she yelps, "Catch it? I'm
supposed t'do that *too*?"

"If you want," I'sai says, one word at a time, between howls - and then, at
Yancy's fiendish laughter at Kassima's question, and even more fiendish
pokes to his ribs, does his best to retrieve his hand long enough to hasten
back to business. Hurriedly he tries to rub feeling into his right hand
-before- their baby comes...

"If'n it wouldn't hurt so bloody much I'd try t'kick you in the groin!"
Kassi yells at Yancy. Stridently. "Even now!" She does let I'sai have his
hand back, clutching her fist around the bedsheets instead as has been the
case with her other hand all along. Her next outcry is full of words for a
change: a few choice epithets describing Yancy's history, a few pleads with
the baby to be born, and one desperate offer to give it a mark piece if it
will just come out already. After all, who knows? Maybe susceptibility to
bribery is genetic.

Susceptibility to bribery, or an eye for getting the most out of the
situation... as if to say, 'Make it two!' the baby pauses but at last, at
last spills its messy self out into I'sai's poor hands. At least he rolled
up his sleeves, early on. Meanwhile, Yancy's reading a cloth, and now he
gives it a token swipe across its mouth and nose, setting it to a loud and
burly bawl of... of... Yancy cleans further... of -his- very own. "Good
lungs!" I'sai reports, proudly.

Well, of course. What would one expect from a child of theirs but a healthy
sense of opportunism? Kassi cries out one last time, but this time with
relief as the child finally, finally consents to be born, and she falls
back against all the pillows in utter exhaustion. No, not *utter*
exhaustion. It's only a moment before she's struggling up on her elbows,
wanting to *see*: "What is it? Is it healthy?" she wants to know, at once
eager and anxious.

A few swabs with a damp cloth later - a fresh one - and I'sai's holding
their son up for Kassima's attention, muttering out of the corner of his
mouth, "Don't think it's over yet," to Yancy as the healer makes to step
back. To Kassima, then, "Looks to be healthy! It's a baby!" As opposed to,
say, a firelizard.

Kassima undergoes that particular metamorphosis that most mothers do,
seeing their baby for the first time: for a moment, every lingering trace
of irritation, weariness, and pain disappears, replaced by wonder and
immediate, wholehearted love. She wriggles into the closest approximation
of a seated position she can manage, so her arms are free to reach for him:
"Can I see? I want t'see--" Then, after a beat, deadpan humor at least
returns: "Shells, I *hope* so. I didn't go through all of that t'end up
with a wherry."

"See with your eyes, not your hands," I'sai teases as they, once upon a
time, had told Kisai; but no, he lowers the little boy carefully, carefully
into her arms, careful of his neck. "And like as not he'd have been traded
back to the Herders, too..." Vancy? He can handle the afterbirth.

"You just want t'keep our child t'yourself," Kassi accuses, but she's
smiling at him, smiling all the more at their son whom she cradles with
expert gentleness as if he were as fragile and precious as spun diamonds.
An image which all of his crying might somewhat bely. "Ah, so a *he*
'tis... and such a fine, strong, he. Is, he's so *beautiful*!" She's
careful about shifting so that he can better see, admire along with her;
and for a miracle, both the ignominies of afterbirth and Yancy himself are
completely, entirely forgotten.


[Editor's Note:  And one last break!  We decided to skip 
ahead to later, when mother and son have been cleaned up 
and the latter has had his first meal; I'sai's gone to get 
Kisai, and a surprise for Kassi too.]


Things are likely much more peaceful in the weyr now that Yancy has been
kicked ou--ahem, thanked warmly and sent on his merry way; Kassi's
fire-lizards, at least, have stopped doing the crouching-'lizard- 
lethal-'lizard routine and settled in to reflect Lysseth's pleased, 
celebratory, and maybe just slightly smug mood. As for Kassi herself, 
she's certainly more peaceful now that she's a bit tidier, though the 
armful of drowsy newborn she holds and just watches breathe no doubt has 
rather more to do with that.

After a little while, I'sai re-enters, less disheveled now but with ears
and nose snapped red by the cold; there's snow on his shoulders, and on the
loose-wrapped package he carries in one arm, and on the shoulders of the
not-quite-eleven-Turn-old that - for once, independent sort that she is -
holds his other hand.

A sweep of Lysseth's tail parts the entrance curtain for them, and she aims
gentle whuffles at all three--man, child, and bronze--that might dislodge a
bit of that snow, if not melt it outright. Kassima's already looking up,
with a full and warm if tired smile. "Welcome back," she greets the one,
softly; "And heyla, Kiss-love," the other. "Come in and get that snow
melted off of you; and come see who wants t'meet you...." Of course, since
this is Kassi we're talking about, the package does get a most curious
glance even with most of her attention on children and child-sire.

Brilliant eyes of single-lidded blue, washed with the turquoise of
interest, look in their own right till that curtain falls again; then
Taralyth curls back up on the ledge, sufficiently content to watch through
the eyes of his rider, who makes a point of stamping his feet in hopes that
Kisai will do the same. As for the package, all it does is rustle.

But is that an *ominous* rustle? Or is it an innocent-sounding rustle?
Which might, in and of itself, be ominous? Lysseth hums an amused note at
Taralyth's peeking, and holds that curtain open just a few extra beats for
him--but only a few: hatchlings and riders must be protected from chill,
and one can trust her to play the mother hen in such situations. With all
secure inside in the warmth, she settles in herself to lazily guard that
portal against any snowflakes that should so much as think about coming in.
Kisai's a bit belated about following her father's lead, what with her eyes
on the bed and its occupants--but once she does get the idea, she gives the
floor some sound, vigorous stomping indeed. She takes one hesitant step
forward after, but seems loathe to release his hand. "I don't *think* the
bairn will bite," Kassima reassures, trying and just plain failing to
suppress a wider smile at this. "Though y'never know. What think you, Is?
Will he suddenly sprout fangs and breathe fire; does that run in your family?"

Innocence is as innocence does and I'sai says, thoughtfully, "Extended
family, maybe. Though really, they're more apt to chew on eyebrows..." and,
after a sideways peek at Kisai, seems entirely too gratified at her
reaction. "Ha. C'mon, wherling, we'd better get our coats off so we don't
feel like we're freezing - more - when we go back out. You'll be good with
him; you'll just need to be careful with his neck, the way you were with
Kaswyn when he was first born." Still, he waits for her to move to doff her
coat, not forcing his hand from hers.

"If'n our son chews off my eyebrows, I'sai, so help me--" Kassima tries to
sound dark and threatening, and can't. It's funny how euphoria and
threateningness don't mix. She's watching Kiss too from beneath lowered
lashes. It's doubtful the girl notices. She gives a subdued nod and starts
to wriggle out of that black leather riding jacket that was her mother's
booty from Taylin, months ago, sliding her hand free only long enough to
get it out of its sleeve before slipping it back into his; though chances
are she'll have to let go again when *his* sleeve comes off. "I didn't hold
Kaswyn much as a baby," she softly admits. That this was probably because
she didn't *want* to goes unsaid, but this time she doesn't seem dismayed
by the prospect of holding a sibling--or if she is, it's not from distaste,
and there's curiosity to balance it. Wordlessly, Kassi gestures to the
other side of the bed in invitation to sit should they wish. It's an
heirloom piece big enough for three or four adults; it can probably manage
two adults and two children just fine, however big one of those children
might have gotten.

"Nibble on your nose?" I'sai teases, pleased, watching Kassima for a moment
before, yes, he has to disentangle long enough to take off his own coat but
with the hushed promise that Kisai can have his hand back right after.
Surprise shows slightly in his expression, though perhaps he shouldn't be,
given what happened with Kaswyn; and he helps her over to get a better look,
letting her take the lead.

Telgar Weyr> Gay sneaks on and waves. Ooh - Happy Anniversary, Kassi!

[Editor's Note:  December 2 was my eight-year NC anniversary. :)
Unfortunately, this log took place on December 3. ;) ]

Telgar Weyr> A'ran waves to Gay, "It was her aniversary yesterday, too." ;)

Telgar Weyr> Gay says, "Ah. I'm behind. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima snugs a Gay and dohs, yes, I need to change that. ;)
But thanks!

Kassima supposes in an oh-so-reluctant tone, belied entirely by laughing
eyes, "I *suppose* I might let you live if'n he just nibbled on m'nose. But
I make nay promises that 'twouldn't nibble on *your* nose in fair
exchange." The baby finds this a good time to wiggle a bit in her arms,
even flail up a tiny hand... but no. His arms are too short to reach her
nose yet. Foiled! Kisai squeezes her Papa's hand at the promise, obediantly
letting go--briefly--afterwards. When her hand's back in his, she hesitates
just a moment more before starting over indeed. Kassi carefully shifts her
own position and the baby's in her arms so that Kiss can better see, and
she spends a moment just peeking at her brother's face, still all flushed
and wrinkle-skinned from birth. She looks up at both parents and wants to
know, "Did *I* look like that?"

I'sai wrinkles -his- nose, and whispers quick if futile encouragement to
Kaisan: if not now, surely later! He treads carefully after Kisai, not
stepping on her heels, and sweetly fibs, "Not in the least. Your head
didn't look like a cone, you weren't nearly as red, and it took a couple
sevendays for your tail to fall off."

Kassima uncurls one arm from around their son to make threatening pinching
gestures over Kisai's head: she'll steal that nose in revenge, she will!
But Kaisan stirs again, and she's quick enough to resume full-time baby
holding. "And you didn't have hair," she adds for Kiss a bit more honestly;
the girl's giggling despite herself at mention of a *tail*. "Plus your
tongue was forked at first. We argued for *ages* over whose fault that was.
I forget what we ultimately decided... go ahead and touch him, love. He
won't break." That's said as Kisai extends a cautious hand towards that arm
that was flailing a moment ago. She looks up in surprise, but takes up on
the invitation: one small finger pokes gently at the arm, and Kaisan's head
turns towards the source of the poke, cloudy blue eyes open if not really
focusing yet. "He hasn't made any messes yet," Kisai mentions just above a
whisper, which could be taken as a sign of approval.

I'sai hastily ducks low, the better to hide his nose behind his daughter -
"Hope not, anyway," he says once she's neared her brother. "But babies,
they don't stink as much as they would later on. They wait till we've
gotten good and attached."

"So it might be safe for you t'hold him, if'n you wanted, so long as you do
it quickly," says Kassi, half-teasing and half genuine encouragement.
"Before he has a chance to stink." Clearly, Kisai's torn about the notion.
But the lack of pressure, the care for her feelings aren't without benefit;
she scoots up onto a seat on the bed at last, letting go of her father's
hand after one more squeeze to hold out her arms in offering. "I guess I
could, for a little while... what's his name?" she wants to know.

I'sai's still behind her, not moving away; if Kisai wants to back off, he's
there. "Raisin," he fibs again, but this time his tone's not deadpan, it's
that of an easy-to-recognize shared joke. And while she's busy with the
boy, he starts rummaging through all that wrapping he's got, unfastening
the twine about the sack, starting to pull out... something large and dark.

And by the grateful glance one set of blue-grey eyes throws up towards
another, Kisai's not unaware of his support. "*Raisin*?" she repeats in
disbelief, staring from one parent to another. If her father's tone hadn't
given away the joke, her mother's grin--and maybe the poke that mother aims
towards Is's side, once she's settled their son into their daughter's arms
with great care, adjusting Kisai's hold until it's just right to support
his head, to make sure he won't be able to wiggle away--would serve the
same trick. When Kassi draws back to leave her holding the baby all on her
own, she seems, for a moment, at a loss. But, "Hey, Raisin," she murmurs to
poor Kai. "You really *are* all wrinkly, aren't you? But not purple at all,
more a sort of blotchy red color...." This child's middle name is clearly
Tact. But she says it with wonder, not derision, and probably for lack of
knowing what else to say than to truly mock. "I've been good," Kassi says,
flicking her eyes away from them long enough to watch The Great Opening,
"and nay asked, but curiosity's driving me mad. What's in the sack, what's
in the sack?"

"You know your mother wouldn't dream of anything that didn't begin with a
'K'," I'sai murmurs as hint; he then mouths over Kisai's head, just in 
case - and she probably says things even gorier, but even so - 'Yancy's 
severed head.' He keeps opening, then, and it spills out in a lustrous pile 
of dark fur: not bedfurs, but long-stranded and lush, what proves to be a 
long... coat? cape? as he shakes it out, belling subtly from shoulders to 
heels.

"'Kaisin'?" Kisai hazards; her eyes stay on the baby though, which means
she completely misses both that mouthing and Kassi clapping a hand over her
mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The greenrider makes to pout when it's
clear there's no severed head in that bag, but she can't hold it for long,
not when she's leaning forward--well, leaning as far forward as tortured
muscles feel inclined to allow--to better see, feel, examine more closely--
"You don't have any freckles either," Kisai's telling Kaisan in the
meanwhile. "But as babies go, you're really not that ugly, and you're not
spitting on me, and I appreciate that. Just so you know." Kaisan gurgles:
don't mention it.

I'sai confirms, with just a slight alteration to the vowel, "Kaisan," a
smile lingering as he watches the two together; he then checks pointedly to
make sure Kassima's hands are indeed clean, and then moves to drape the
garment over her knees. Its lining proves to be an icy, satiny green that
would slide readily over clothes, with just a slight diamond-grid as
texture, and the furs are tanned well enough to fold readily if they must;
the clasp is invisible within all the fur, though could be replaced.

Kassima spreads her hands for inspection at the check: *she's* not the one
who recently caught a slippery, messy baby, after all, and her dreams of
Yancy's blood coating her hands went sadly unfulfilled, so she's clean. Woe
is she. Or woe would she be, if it weren't to her benefit now--clean hands
mean she can take up the cape with a soft exclamation, feeling the
smoothness of the lining and rubbing her cheek against the plush of the
fur. "Something for dramatic flair, in place of the one someone else gave
me?" she looks up to tease, an echo of a conversation nearly nine months
gone. "Is, 'tis *gorgeous*. And so soft! Did you feel--well, you must've,
mustn't you," and she seems to realize she's starting to ramble, since she
shuts up in favor of sliding the cape around her shoulders as best she can,
seated and all. Kisai glances towards the gift-giving, but after a soft ooh
for the cape--guess who's probably going to be plaguing one or both of them
for something like that, come next Turnday?--she repeats, "Kaisan," with
some relief. "I'm glad. I think I could maybe get used to having a
brother," a noteworthy Kisaian concession, "but a brother who was named
after fruit would be kind of weird." Of course, Kaisan having a sister
named after a display of affection? *That's* perfectly normal.

"Hey, now - " and then, "I must've," I'sai says with a sudden grin, and if
Kisai wants something like that - well, she's far too young to be having a
baby. Maybe a collar. "Glad you like him," he says gravely, "And 'Kedfruit'
just didn't sound right, even with borrowing a letter or two."

Kassima grins impishly for the first; laughs for the second, and takes a
turn at trying to catch one of his hands to hold and squeeze in a far
gentler fashion than an hour or two earlier. "Thankee," she says softly,
"for this, on top of the hundred other things I owe you thanks for.
Including but nay limited to two of the most wonderful gifts anyone's ever
been given." She inclines her head towards their children, as if there
could be doubt of what she meant. Kisai misses the gesture, which is as
well. Perhaps a stole? One with the poor animal's head still
attached--she'd probably like that. She'd use it to scare the other
weyrbrats with. "I think I do like him," Kiss agrees, sounding slightly
surprised but honest. "As much as it's possible to like a baby. So long
as--well--as long as he's not going to replace *me*--" Which is, as it has
always been, he probable heart of her concern.

I'sai flushes, and it's not the cold this time; "I'm glad," he says. "I'm
glad you don't - no, I'm glad you _do_ enjoy them," and leaves her his hand
a little while longer, at least till it's his own turn to reach down and
caress a certain black-fuzzed head - and then rest that hand on Kisai's
shoulder with genuine startlement: "What? Replace -you-? Nobody ever could."

Kassima slants up both brows at glad-she-doesn't, but doesn't ask; perhaps
because those greatest gifts are right there, with ears all too genetically
inclined towards eavesdropping. "Always," is her simple answer. "Beyond
m'ability to express." She doesn't let that hand go before its time; when
hers is again free, she brushes the backs of her fingers against Kisai's
cheek, shaking her head vehemently. "Never," she seconds. "You can trust us
in that much, sweetling: you'll always be beloved, and you'll always,
*always* be one of a kind. As shall your brother, but of a different kind."
Pause. "Both *evil* kinds, mind you." That gets a laugh from the relieved
Kisai, and a yawn from the entirely sleepy Kaisan; the elder girl tilts her
head to rest a cheek a moment against her father's hand, and all, for now
at least, are content.


[Editor's Note:  And just to wrap things up, here's the
text of the +bbpost announcing Kaisan's birth. :)  Bless
you, Is, for retrieving this for me!]


19    Kassima           Thu Nov 20 19:29 2003 An Addition To the Kollective

	Late in the evening of the twenty-first day of the eleventh month of 
the forty-sixth Turn, various Weyr Healers sighed with relief when Kassima, 
who'd gone into labor, elected to bypass the Infirmary altogether to give 
birth to her eighth child in the relative privacy and comfort of her own 
weyr. Poor Journeyman Yancy was the unfortunate sot who got drafted into 
attending, but both he and I'sai miraculously managed to survive the delivery 
of the greenrider and bronzerider's strong, healthy, and very loud son. 
Lysseth and Taralyth were good enough to pass along the news to some 
interested parties, and as a result a debate occured in the Living Cavern 
that night--V'dan insisted he'd been told the boy was named 'Kaisin,' but 
various Wingmates scoffed at the notion their Wingleader would name any child 
of hers after a wrinkled fruit product. Eventually they managed to get it 
through his head that the correct name is Kaisan.
	Kassi's been ordered to keep to her weyr and mostly to her bed for a 
few days as a result of the quick-but-strenuous birth, and so mother and son 
would probably welcome visitors for the next day or two. :) Both are hale and 
healthy despite the call for bed rest; as for I'sai, well, surely that story 
about his being set on fire during the birthing is only wild rumor....

......................................TGW....................................