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Settle For Nothing


Date:  March 3, 2005
Place:  Ista Weyr's Southeastern Bowl
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:  The title of this one is courtesy of Vel, who helped me
out when I couldn't think of any I liked:  he proposed that the three 
logs concerning the subject that this one introduces could be 'a 
trilogy in selective understanding.'  That does describe them pretty 
well, I think. ;)  Kassi drops by Ista again to give M'rek a progress
report.  They do not, however, end up discussing business much at 
all.  It's a very intense scene that I enjoyed vastly. :)

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The Log:

The huge looming entrances of the living caverns are easily visible from
here, and you glide downward to land, scattering firelizards as you do so.

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.

M'rek is pacing along the Istan bowl, walking a good way, stooping to pick
up a rock, tossing said rock has hard as he can towards nothing at all,
then turning back and repeating the process for the opposite direction. He
seems to occasionally be muttering under his breath, but it's hard to tell
what he's saying. There's an occasional pause during which he draws in a
deep breath and shakes himself a bit and clenches a fist.

It's Kassi's turn to make her entrance singing something random, although
the winds created by Lysseth's backwinging snatch away most of the sound;
which may be just as well, since from what's left it seems doubtful that
the song was appropriate for decent ears in the first place. That doubtless
explains why once she's straightened and divested herself of over-warm
riding gear, she falls into silence. Mostly silence. Her footsteps do make
some sound as she ambles after the pacing M'rek, her expression changing
from cheerful to serious edging on concerned as she gets closer. "This
looks bad," she observes. "Dare I ask what's on your mind, M'rek-my-darling?"

M'rek can't help but notice the arrival of a green dragon. Even if she
hadn't landed in his path, he's still not that adle-brained. Yet. There's
always hope for tomorrow, though. He spins on a heel and paces back the
other way until Kassima eventually catches up and then he wheels back
around and gives her a hard look for a minute that finally breaks down into
an edgy sort of chuckle. "Shards." And this time, it's not meant as his
favorite swearword. "Real shards. When am I going to see some? I've got
things to do. I've got people to pummel. I've got a drinking binge the size
of His ego to get under my belt. Look at this." He unclenches a hand and
holds it out for the greenrider to inspect. It's shaking hard. "I'm ready.
I'm not going to last another month like this."

Hard to miss that hard look, and Kassima doesn't. It surprises her. Her
brows twitch upward, then downward again as her eyes narrow to study him:
"I'd say you're nay," she agrees at length. Both of her hands take and
steady--or attempt to--that one of his, turning it this way and that to
inspect indeed should he permit. "Does Ulfianth realize how much nay
drinking is bothering you? I know, I know, that's hardly going t'be the
real problem. I'd offer t'fight you, only we might offend Ista. What *can*
I do t'help?" Her green eyes, seeking his, are quite serious, and no little
worried. "I'm sorry that I didn't make it out here sooner. I meant to, when
you asked me."

M'rek sucks in an even deeper breath and hides his hands back in fist form
while forcing his frame into a more casual posture. "I'm sorry,
Kassi-darling. I'm all right, really I am. I'm just a little frayed at the
edges." Then he looks around before finding the greenrider's eyes again,
"I'm always happy to see you, glad you're here now. Does he? Aye. He must,
mustn't he? Suffering builds stamina, aye?" A laugh comes next, a warm
noise, "A fight. Not you though, darling. Maybe after I'm cut loose I can
catch up with someone for that. Or a whole lot of someone's. I wonder if
the Seacraft charges by the punch?" He shakes his head, "Well then. What's
up? Everything generally going all right?"

Kassima folds her arms across her chest, watching this with one brow arched
now. "More than a little," she mutters, shaking her head at him: casual
pose or not, her concern lingers. "You tempt me t'be hauling you out of
here on Lysseth, if'n Ulfianth would stand for it, and just take you
*somewhere* else--but 'tis good t'see you too, a'course, although I wish
your circumstances were better." A pause. Deadpan, "Also, this is me, nay
making any off-color cracks about stamina. Really. Don't forget that you've
that dinner and a smackdown still t'be running when you can,
M'rek-love--I've nay intention of missing out on *that*. It should be a
show for the ages. Would you break up the Rusted Hulk, then?" The idea and
the image thereof seem to amuse her, since she grins sidelong at him.
"Generally, everything's fine. Or close t'fine. We've a clutch coming up,
Faranth help us all--and I've managed t'see a few people about those
trinkets you gave me. Talked with Sria, and Cailin, too. Has she been t'see
you?"

"Dinner and a Smackdown." M'rek grins, all teeth and then takes a step
closer to Kassima, almost getting boot tip to boot tip with her. He leans
in a little bit, seemingly to get his next words closer to her ear, and yet
there is definitely that vibe that the bronzerider is misbehaving. "That's
right. You shouldn't make any jokes about the stamina until you're
absolutely sure where it lays." He winks, and then puts a light kiss, right
in front of her left ear before muttering low, "Aye. You shouldn't miss out
on anything. Except there's that pesky Harper, isn't there? I should set
aside my ethics at least once. Would certainly help /me/ feel better." The
devil is in his eyes and then he moves back just a little bit, to watch the
Telgari, looking to see how she'll react to his very bad behavior. "Aye. I
just might break up the Rusted Hulk. I might break up all of them and get,
happily, demoted back to rider, and spend the rest of my days flying sweeps
over empty tundra, my brain turning to blueberry preserves." A pause and
then he makes a low rumble and shifts back to business. "Cailin came to see
me, aye. I'm glad the trinkets are out. Congrats on your clutch." Spoken a
little woodenly.

Although Kassi is at first amused--and certainly doesn't back down,
standing her ground quite willingly--her slight shiver for the kiss is of
neither the amused nor the protesting sort. "Nay m'fault you never showed
me whether the Lava Lounge wall speaks true," she murmurs back. There's a
note of tease in it, but not the pure playfulness that marks most of their
exchanges of this kind--she turns her head a little, watching him watching
her, and though a grin tugs at her mouth her eyes are uncertain. And
speculative. "Well," she suggests after a moment. "I do owe you that
marker, you remember. Only whether that'd make things better or worse...
you really think Roddy'd be the one t'be minding?" As for the idea of
blueberry-brains, this is mulled only a moment before she shakes her head
at him. "You're always going t'have a mind however hard you try t'lose it,
darling one, probably t'your rue. But if'n you do all that--I hope 'twill
call on me t'come see it, at the least. You don't," added for the last,
"sound all that glad."

"A mind is such a bothersome thing. Was so much easier when I all I had to
do was take orders and execute them. No troublesome ethics. No worrisome
fall out. No concerns for..loved ones." M'rek stays close, as if he's
somehow feeding off of something in her presence. "And no having to solve
things that may not even have solutions." He chuckles then, a rumble from
deep in his throat that involves his head tipping back a moment so that his
eye contact becomes tenuous for only a second. "It's not Roddy that would
mind. It's partly that he wouldn't. Some things. Well. Some things are,
always will be, and always should be, sacrosanct." A word that's not likely
to be his, but His. "Or else we just commit ourselves to chaos. Not that
I'm always opposed to chaos, mind you. Just that. There must be limits.
There should be limits." A pause and then he adds, almost an afterthought,
"Upon me." Then he asks anyway, "What about that perfect Bronzerider of
yours? Now. He might mind. Someone, Kassi. Someone should mind. For you,
they should mind very much." Then he laughs once more, and he's kinda
slipping a little into a cool sort of mania. "You're invited. I even have a
map and an itinerary."

"Was that really all that you did, ever? You never questioned, nay even a
bit? Never wondered, and never had anyone that you cared for?" Kassima
keeps her eyes on his. Her arms had been folded; she unfolds them, dropping
even that barricade. "I didn't know you, but I find that hard t'be
crediting. Consciences don't sprout overnight. And you, methinks, have a
very active conscience--perhaps more active than most, in its own odd and
erratic way. I suspect he wouldn't. Aye." A touch of rue there? Maybe. Not
surprise, though. "But sacrosanct... is it him and me that you're meaning?
Your friendship with him? Or--nay, M'rek. I never did think you much
opposed t'chaos." Imagine such a thing. "We make our own limits." Ah, now,
on to trickier questions. Easy enough for him to see her brow furrow and
her eyes become pensive, since they've never left his. Her small smile,
too. "He isn't perfect, M'rek-love, because nay anyone is. He... I don't
know. His right," carefully said, "t'be protesting is somewhat limited,
methinks, while he's set me aside. But would he be bothered anyway?
Mayhaps. He doesn't seem t'trust you." This is slightly deadpan. Understate
the case much, Kassi? "Neither of them have wanted--that sort of claim, I
don't think," she murmurs, looking away a moment with a flush of rose over
her cheekbones. "There are the others. And I can't exactly complain, now
can I. Thankee, darling." Probably less for the itinerary than the other,
the minding; although her quick grin back at him, that's for the trip and
no mistake. "Where will you start?"

M'rek frowns a little bit, a rare expression for his features and one that
shows annoyance more than any real anger. "Not until someone started
pushing at me to question things. I was perfectly content. Aye. I was. But
then I had to be introduced to the idea that contentment wasn't enough.
Sharding Lord Holders." A breath that's blown lightly out of his nose
before he seems to..lessen. There's a twisting of he head, first one way
and then the other as he loosens his neck and listens to that internal
voice echoing from the hatching grounds. "It didn't spring up from nowhere,
but we could say it was sleeping. Sleeping in ignorance, and you know what
they say about ignorance. Sleeping until it was pushed. And look at where
that led to?" A brief gesture around as if the meaning actually were
physical when it's likely not. "No. Nobody is perfect, but at least some
people sharding work on it. If I shouldn't accept passing or good enough,
then why should you?" Oh, someone's been spending quality time with purple
fetished whisperer of anarchy, it would seem. Or maybe he hasn't and that's
the problem. Hard to tell. He reaches forward and then with surprising
gentleness for the agression of his mood he rests a hand on each of the
Greenrider's upper arms and says firmly to her, "You shouldn't settle,
Kassi. Never settle. You're better than that and if they can't give you
what you deserve than make them suffer without you and find someone who can
and would mind me touching you." And then with a wolfish grin he adds,
"Anyone else touching you. You should complain." Then. "Of course he
doesn't trust me. Unless I tell someone they can trust me, they really
shouldn't. I sharding have to cut of my nose often enough that the casual
passerby bloody well shouldn't trust me." Then he laughs. "I'll start right
here."

Kassima's expression is not so much less odd for her--the fascination in it
is characteristic; the solemnity, nay, gravity that goes with it, decidedly
less so. She studies his face as he speaks as if looking for the real
answers there rather than in words--but it's words she answers. Or
questions. "Why would he want t'be interfering with unthinking obediance
t'orders? Wouldn't that have been more... convenient? Sometimes
contentment's enough. Or almost enough. For the likes of me, perhaps. I
can't imagine it really suiting you. Contentment's too quiet a thing. Aye,
where's it led to? D'you think--truly think--that the world isn't better
off mayhaps for this conscience of yours, or is it that you think 'twere
better off when contentment was all you knew?" She has to blink rapidly
then. He's not seen her cry, and he likely won't now, but there's a
suspicious glint in eyes that she's fighting away even as she carefully
mirrors his gesture: sets her hands to his shoulders, lightly, lightly, if
he'll let her. "For Turn upon Turn upon Turn, what I wanted was one man,
just one, who'd love me, whom I could love. E'vrin left me, and--he," some
name not spoken, "wouldn't have me, and none ever *saw* me--compared
t'that, settling would be paradise. But I don't think that's what I'm
doing." She finds a crooked smile for him. "Besides, if'n you're really
about t'argue that 'twouldn't be t'my benefit if'n they *didn't* mind you
touching me--M'rek, d'you have t'spite your face so much as that?"

M'rek tights his grip on the greenrider's arms just a little when she
touches his shoulders and he stands up under the scrutiney of her eyes,
he's as serious as can be. He speaks to /Her/ first. "So what? You gave up?
You can say you're content to settle all you like, Kassima, but it'll never
suit you. A person can't want something, be meant for something that long,
that deeply, just to toss their cards in and then actually be joyful about
it. It's not you, Kassima. And it's not your fault either. You can't help
it if any of them have been lost, or blind, or just that sharding selfish.
Do you really think that two of them are going to add up to that one that
really deserves you?" Clearly, the bronzerider doesn't think so. "I'm not
saying it's not painful getting there. But I am saying that you do yourself
a disservice by selling yourself short. Settling. Well. It'll be okay for
awhile. But as someone once told me about it. Eventually that yoke will
chafe. It'll wear you down and make you less." He tilts his head forward a
little bit, intent, "They sharding well should mind. If you were mine, I'd
have them eating their meals through a reed for the very thoughts I have."
And maybe that even makes some sense after some mental gymnastics. Finally
he lets her go, as if the choice has to be hers, as it does. "Don't I?
Don't enough people suffer as it is?" Then he laughs, "Why would he?
Because it's no fun breaking a toy that isn't fixed."

"I did," says Kassima, "and I didn't--say rather I *tried*, over and over,
t'give it up for always; and sometimes I did settle, although it never
worked. Perhaps--early on--that's what this was too, because I didn't think
Vel *loved* me when he propositioned me first, and 'twas certain sure Roddy
didn't. Nay now. Now 'tis... something else. I'd love t'be the only one for
them, aye, the only woman they'd ever want or need or look at, the one who
makes 'em happy. T'grow old and raise children and be there with them for
always. T'cut the bloody hands off anyone else who'd touch them. Only 'tis
plural. *Them*. I'm nay better, loving them both. And what does it mean
that I stand here with you, and I know that if'n they wouldn't mind it, I'd
gladly be with you if'n you wanted me? Mayhaps they don't deserve me, but
mayhaps 'tis because *they* deserve better." She says this last with some
passion to match the eyes, which, for a moment at least, are clearly
agonized; it's something she's thought about before, this, without
resolution. "I thought that too, but what it got me was half a lifetime of
nay anyone at all, and plenty of time spent hating m'self for being so
*flawed*--" She cuts that off in favor of looking at him, with something
very like wonder. "What thoughts d'you have?" she asks, very quietly. She
doesn't pull away from him, and her hands are left in place. "There's
suffering enough, nay question of it. If'n you truly believe that's what he
wants of you, M'rek, how can you stay with him?"

M'rek shakes his head a bit, "That's only because you haven't found that
satisfaction yet. That's all it is, Kassi." The reachian bronzerider just
plows right through those treacherous waters. "A lack of satisfaction.
There's love, and then. There is /Love/." Spoken as if it certainly means
something to him, of all people. "If they deserve better then why are they
looking at less?" Derisively. In at least one situation, he knows things,
and likely he's heard a good bit all around. "Well. It's been put to me
that perhaps nothing is better than settling for less. Making it seem like
it's okay to just make do and give up on what's really important. And does
making do really keep you from self loathing when they aren't around to
salve that wound temporarily?" He shrugs then, as if he's willing to let
the subject go for now. Then for the staying, "Why?" Suprise. As if the
answer is so evident to him that he's surprised everyone else doesn't see
it for what it is. "Because one day he's not going to be able to. And then
I'll break him."

There's a stretch of silence from Kassima. "Mayhaps 'tis so," she says at
length. "Mayhaps 'tis. There's a love that's complete devotion--respect,
admiration, awe, protectiveness and possessiveness, being willing t'live
and die and kill for them, wanting t'own and be owned *by* that one. If'n
that's the sort of love you mean, I've known it too. Mayhaps Lysseth's
death or one of m'children's would be able t'hurt me more than it has, but
I can't think of much else." She says these last words so lowly that
they're barely audible, and though her eyes are still on his, they're
looking inward more than out, at least for a moment. "--Mayhaps they aren't
less? Did you ever meet Breena, or all of Roddy's?" Still, that's
halfhearted protest at best since she's hard-put to hide how the sentiment
warms her. "For some people it might be. Me--I'm alive, now. Aye? Alive. I
feel like a real, living *woman*, nay some empty shell of a thing, a mask
with naught behind it. If'n they care for me--truly--then it means
something. It means *I'm* something. That's nay all I value them for;
'tisn't all about how they make me feel about *me*, remotely, but it
helps." Perhaps it's evident to him. To her, not so--not judging by the
surprised way she looks at him now, or how it manages to distract her from
that other subject, at least temporarily. "You want to--" Pause. "Shells.
Mayhaps. Mayhaps you could, at that."

There's an even longer stretch of silence from M'rek, a stretch so long
that it seems like he's not even there anymore. But then. He's back and he
starts off with, "I've met enough. Alive? Are you? And. Weren't you right
before? You seemed so to me. What do you think drew them in the first
place?" Then, "Want to?" A chuckle from him that echos a bit as he takes a
step away, breaking all contact, and looks around the bowl. "Will."

"Enough." Kassima's mouth curves in a smile with humor behind it, true
enough, but of a decidedly wry and crooked variety. "Well, there are enough
t'be meeting. Aren't I? Would you say I'm nay?" Not a tease this time--she
seems genuinely curious about his answer. "For Rodric, mayhaps. Rodric took
interest in me after Vel did; at the Turnover celebration, he said, which
high spirits led me to attend. Vel... if'n it hadn't been for that flight,
I don't know that he ever would've been drawn. I've wondered. Haven't quite
asked it. You thought I was, then?" Her hands drop. Uncertain for a moment
of what to do with them, she eventually settles with hooking the thumb of
one through one of the rings of her riding belt. "'Will' and 'want to'
aren't exactly the same. But I'm guessing you must, if'n you'd endure all
of this for the sake of that. How long? Since you first decided 'twould?"

M'rek shifts his glance around and then finally back to the greenrider,
"You were when I first met you. Maybe you didn't think you were, but you
were. Shards. Don't let someone else hold that kind of power over you."
That, from him, is almost laughable and yet maybe it just means he knows so
much better than some others would. "You make you alive. You always did.
They haven't given you anything you didn't already have." He sounds dead
certain on that before he laughs again, it's that deep throated chortle.
"Will and want to. Aye. Both of those. Oh, it's more than that. It's always
more complicated than that. I love Him." He rolls a shoulder, "Won't keep
me from it in the end though. I'm not sure when I decided. It seems like
it's always just been my view of the end."

It means something to Kassima, his saying that. Plenty of things that have
been said have meant something--it's there to be read in her eyes, in
subtle nuances of expression, if he should look for them. "When you first
met me 'twas holed up in the Infirmary after being Threaded, if'n memory
serves. Nay my best moment, so if'n you saw life in me then--" She falls
quiet for a beat. "I want that--I *think* I want that t'be true. I don't
know. 'Tis hard t'credit. I can be good at wearing the mask of life, when I
want t'be." His sheer certainty makes her less than certain, however, and
she looks back to him as though to confirm for herself that yes, he really
did mean what he said. "That... doesn't entirely surprise me. 'Tis the ones
we love who can do the breaking best. Which is why I'm thinking that if'n
Vahara's right, about him and you, then mayhaps you *can* do it. If'n you
can stay intact long enough. You're bloody strong--nay doubting *that*--and
you dance with the dark better than anyone I've seen, but I do worry for
you, M'rek. Can you tell me I'm wrong to?"

"Doubts are traitors. They make you lose the good you might win by making
you afraid to try." M'rek speaks as if someone else said that to him once
and it stuck with him. "Sharding masks." He knows about those as well.
"Don't wear one with yourself. Shards. You don't have to want it to be
true, it already is true. Open your eyes." Then he laughs as the Lady is
mentioned, "Nothing at all would be there without the love." Then he grins,
"Shards. It's not as if it's not what He wants as well. It's what He's
always wanted. Pride in strength and all that. Course. There are things He
wants first. Prices to pay and all of that. His fate and mine are tied
together. Well. Of course you should worry. And, I'm touched that you do.
It's only because I bend that way that I can get so close, there's always
risk with that. I'll make it to the end though, don't worry." He smiles
then, brightly, "Besides. I'm going to cheat every chance I get."

"Is that why you seem afraid of naught? How you're able t'just grab life
and shake it for whatever might fall out, good or ill?" Kassima's voice
holds clear admiration and deep fondness, as does the grin she gives him.
This latter fades into an expression more thoughtful. "But the question
becomes whether 'tis my eyes that see true, or yours. I'll grant you that
at the moment, I could believe yours. And whether they see true or not... I
like that they see me that way." She raises her eyebrows again then, and
after processing what he says, grins back at him: "Sometime, M'rek, will
you tell me all the story of you and him? I'd like t'be knowing; I've a
feeling I don't, nay remotely. Are you saying he wants t'be broken by you,
or that he wants some sort of final struggle t'see which will break the
other for ever and always?" Maybe she's been listening to too many Ballads.
She sounds serious in the question, though. "Risk," she echoes. The word,
for some reason, brings a flicker of amusement. "Aye. Well, 'twill worry
anyway, but in this I *do* believe you. It seems impossible that it could
be otherwise, with you. 'Twill call on me if'n ever I can aid you in it?"
There's a sudden and rather mischievous grin in answer to his smile. "If'n
naught else, I can hide aces down m'shirtfront or something for you t'add
t'your hand."

There's a momentary look of surprise on the bronzerider's features for her
first words. "Do I? Well. You know." M'rek winks here, "It's not bravery if
you're not afraid of it." before he also tosses out the quarter mark of,
"Change is never brought by the cautious. You can't make anything better by
just maintaining the status quo." And then teasingly to round it out,
"Sometimes you have to break a few teeth to make a bronzerider?" Then he
laughs. "That's a good question. How's your vision?" And he doesn't seem to
be talking about eyesight at all. "More fun to believe mine. Shards. It's
me. I don't know why on Pern you'd doubt /me/ Kassi love." There's an
intake of air so that his chest will puff a bit for that, before he goes on
a little more seriously, "Aye. I'll tell you sometime. Maybe on my bender
if I get around to it." It's only a matter of time, after all. Then. "I'm
not sure what I'm saying there. Aye. And Aye again. Both maybe. We do like
our drama at Bitra, after all." A glance upwards and a smirk before he goes
on, "Of course I will. And. I believe you can at that. You sharding well
already are an ace, Kassi darling. You already are an ace."

"Huh. So are you saying you aren't brave, or aren't unafraid?" Kassima
teases back, before falling back into thoughtful mode for the next. "Make
things better, nay. Or, necessarily, make 'em worse. 'Tis important t'be
sure that the status quo isn't good and fine on its own, I suppose--oh, and
how many teeth were broken in the making of *you*?" she asks, laughing.
"Mmm. Depends on the subject. When I'm looking at me, d'you mean? When I'm
looking at you? And I *might* doubt you because you're flaming crazy
insane, M'rek-love." She's got that grin again. "Except being flaming crazy
insane also equates, in your case, with being honest often enough. I'm sure
that you will... get around to the bender, I mean. Tell, I can but hope.
But any time. Both, aye, that could figure. And a'course you do. Would I be
so interested in people or a place that was boring? Really, now." After
flicking a quick glance upward in automatic response to his doing so, she
looks back down to him and laughs again, a warm sound accompanied by just a
touch of red at her cheeks. "Shells, M'rek, you do flatter me. You're the
wild card in the deck if'n ever there was one. But if'n I can be an ace for
you, then that pleases me."

"Both. Neither." M'rek laughs. "I don't know. I just do what I do. Does it
count when you just are you being you? I imagine it does." Then he laughs,
"I suppose. Is it good and fine on it's own? Who is qualified to decide
that?" And yet who's tinkering? "No broken teeth, but I'm still a work in
process." That grin again before, "I like being crazy. It's all the ones
who thing they're so sane you really have to watch out for. Except maybe
they're not so interesting to watch out for?" A hopeful sort of tease.
"Well. It's only true. You know I'm a sharding bad liar. Always was."

"It has t'count, methinks. Since what you do is a part of who you are, aye?
And so anyone who does aught, arguably, is just being themselves, at least
some part of themselves. And now we're getting philosophical and it's
scary. Is this what becomes of us when there's nay liquor around?" Kassima
has to snicker at the very thought. "Shells and shards. Nay a bad question.
I'd say, if'n the people concerned in it are reasonably peaceful, happy,
living well; if'n the change might result in greater unhappiness than is
already there and the result isn't worth it--but again, you get into the
question of who gets t'decide worth. I don't think that person's me,
thankfully." For her or for the world? Maybe both. "Oh, so. One can only
wonder what 'twill be like when you're done, then. Try t'keep a few
teeth--you gumming food just wouldn't be right. They're probably
interesting in their own right... but," she agrees, grinning at him and
wrinkling her nose, "me, I like the open madness. Tends t'be more colorful.
Do I know that? I don't think, come t'think of it, that you've ever lied
t'me, y'know."

M'rek rubs a hand over his head, almost breaking into a sweat as she uses
the L word. Not that L word, the other one. No, the other, other one.
"Likely. I certainly could go for a drink." He smiles, all teeth intact,
"No telling. Hopefully, someone worth getting drunk out of your mind with."
He's got high hopes. "Nope. And shards, you'd know it if I had. Unless you
were just completely oblivious. Which, I don't think you are." He seems
about to say something else when he's clearly interrupted internally.
"Shards. Ulfianth wants me. I think there's a speck of regular sand in all
the black sand or something." He rolls his eyes fondly before leaning
forward to kiss her cheek. "I'm glad you came by. Come see me again, or
I'll come see you as soon as I'm out." And he sets off, a quick walk for
his dragon must be raising cain in his head.