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Something To Shake a Stick At


Date:  April 15, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Workroom
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:  Remember that news Taralyth told Lysseth that his rider
had for hers?  Now's I'sai's time to share it, and Kassi's time to 
hide that she does not completely approve.  Or at least to try.  It's
also, for whatever strange reason, I'sai's time to get poked like 
Poppin' Fresh, but he doesn't even giggle!  What fun is that?

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The Log:

Lysseth> I'sai treks through the starlight, veering around any dark spots -
or dragons - but upon spotting Lysseth, he gaves her a tired near-smile and
detours for the records room. But with Kassima not in there, he soon pops
out again and tries door #2.

I'sai comes into the workroom from the bowl.

Gene, let's tell him what he's won! It may, perhaps, count as a zonk:
Kassi's indeed present, and shamelessly taking up valuable hearthside
space, but unlike her dragon who was so mercifully quiet outside, she's...
well, not. She's picking very carefully, very slowly, and
none-too-skillfully at the strings of a gitar; singing, too, just as
slowly, and evidently aiming for the strummed notes to match the sung
notes. They don't. At all. "'Tis my own design; 'tis my own remorse...
remorse... re*morse*... bloody shells. Where's that fardling note?"

I'sai emerges, slowly, into the relative light; spotting Kassima, he leans
back against the door - clonk goes the head - and exhales even more slowly
before pushing off again and heading for the table. No, hearth. "I think it
went *between*," he offers helpfully as ever.

"Probably fled there," Kassima agrees, looking up from her instrument and
over towards him; she smiles automatically in greeting, though it fades a
bit, turns puzzled, at all that slowness. "I was going t'say 'g'deve,' only
'tis looking as if'n it's perhaps been more a long even than a good one for
you. Or am I wrong?"

"Long," I'sai says on a sigh. "L-o-n-g spells long," and he props himself
up against the chair nearest her. "But you don't want to hear, I don't
think, -just- how grateful I will be when that lot gets *betweening*.
Especially after they get into any pushing-and-shoving fights right next to
some muck. It was not pretty. Neither were the drills they went through,
afterward. ...Well, I hope you didn't mind hearing too much, 'cause, well.
How're you? And the sprout?"

Kassima suggests, "Go ahead and sit, if'n you want to--you deserve it for
showing off your mastery of spelling so well there, I'm sure." The tease is
light, good-natured. "And you can talk about it all you please. I've an
interest in 'em too, after all, after a fashion--did you make 'em fly
drills without cleaning up? Sounds more a punishment for their Wingmates,
if'n the wind's blowing wrong. I'm nay too absurdly fat yet; nay doing so
well with this gitar, though. As you likely heard. And the kidling's well."
There's a moment's brief, radiant grin, clarified by: "Moving strong enough
that I can feel, now, just today... how about you, mucky Weyrlings aside?"

I'sai says rather plaintively, "I would, but if I did, I wouldn't get up -
did I mention this was last night, and the amount of sleep I've had...
well. No, no, they had to clean up and then drill. Drill. Drill. _Feeling_.
Well. You certainly smile bright. And yes, everyone washed their hands. I
should warn you that Talisha said something about trying to get men gussied
up in pseudo-pregnancy outfits which I do not understand. I think it is the
sign of not the Pass but the world coming to an end."

"So mayhaps you shouldn't; you could sleep there, you just might wake up
with a stiff neck... well, and with something horrific done t'your hair,
should anyone find you in an unconscious state. Mayhaps I see your point."
Though it doesn't stop Kassi from reaching over, across her gitar, to aim a
poke at his ribs. "You shouldn't go so long without rest, though--and at
least there's *that*. The drills still stunk, though, is that what 'twere
implying? And methinks you'd smile bright too." Her grin takes on an impish
cast. "If'n only someone could get *you* pregnant. Alas, unlikely t'happen,
but if'n they *did* I'd pay 'em handsomely for the laugh 'twould provide.
Talisha, really? I wonder what she's thinking of? You'd look... odd, in a
maternity dress. Decidedly odd." Her voice, alas, is decidedly thoughtful.
"But interesting."

"Or wherrywiches," I'sai says darkly, but not without a smile - including
for that poke, which wherhide does a grand job at shielding. "Do that
again. - The poking, not the thinking about. The interesting bit. You can
think about sharing your mint with Katlynn, maybe. How would that be? She
could even bribe you with clothes."

Kassima's agreement is downright sunny: "Whimry sandwiches down your
pants!" She's likewise sunny about obeying his injunction to try the poking
again. Poke, poke, poke. "Why shouldn't I think about it? You might do very
well in purple, y'know; and 'tis a dark color, so 'tis slimming... shells,
are you kidding? Kat would try t'sicc pink lace on me. But what would she
need mint for? Have you gotten her hooked on the sticks?"

"So to speak," I'sai says, faintly flushed, after an "Ow, ow, ow," that's
more spoken than exclaimed. "And right. Whimry. Whim-ry. Right."

It's not quite as fascinating as poking a dough boy in the gut and having
him giggle, but Kassi must be starved for entertainment since she seems
quite inclined to see how many 'ows' she can wrest from him. Poke. Poke
poke. Pokety-poke. "You couldn't be expected t'know," she grants, gracious,
"since I'm doubting you *tasted* the sandwich or aught, once you fished it
out." Pause. "If'n you did, please don't tell me. Oh-ho, you're *red*." She
pauses in doing the hokey poke-y long enough to slant a suspicious look up
at him. "Hmm. Blushing. At a reference to sticks. Sticks *plural*."

I'sai gives her a prolonged, "Owwwwwwwww" to sum them up. "And no, I didn't
exactly taste it, and, ah, yes. You could say so. To make Doran jealous,
sort of."

Kassima beams in reaction, thus perhaps putting at last to rest any
lingering doubts of her sadism. "Masochist!" she accuses. Cheerfully.
"D'you want me t'keep poking you even after you've groaned so?" Another,
longer pause. "So what you're saying is that one of the sticks you hooked
her on is yours?"

"Please no," I'sai says, plaintively. "And, ah, she didn't toss me - wait,
if it's fishing, wouldn't I be tossing her if I had the - those are _your_
metaphors. Not mine. Yours yours yours and Odd-y's."

Kassima retracts her finger without further argument, drawing back in on
herself and leaning back in the chair to give him a look of rebuke. "'Tis
*you* who took m'perfectly innocent inquiry about mint sticks and turned
into something else; 'twasn't *thinking* of fishing metaphors," though now
that she has, well, she'll just match flush for flush, shall she? "*Ozy*,
nay Oddy, for Faranth's sake. And 'tis sounding more as if'n tumbling's the
word than tossing. Hmm? So. I have t'admit, she got you faster than I
thought she would." Her head tilts to one side, eyes narrowed in thought.
"And now she needs *mint*...?"

"Ozy-ozzy-buzzy," I'sai says, quite as if the mnemonic would help him
remember. "Buzzzzzzz. And some - wait, you know? - and aye. She's, well,
she's a little worried about getting fat, let's say. But she's keeping it.
Him. Her. Said something about how our baby'd look good. Handsome. Something."

"He's a man, nay a vtol," Kassi must needs primly point out, though there's
amusement in it; "And I know she's had an interested eye on you for Turns,
aye... huh. Well. Felicitations, I'sai." She curves, after a beat, a smile.
"That puts me one step closer to m'next bet; 'twill have t'make a note."
With wry humor, "Why am I nay surprised she'd think of that? She's like as
nay right, though. Especially if'n it gets your eyes with her hair, hey?"

"I'd hope so, else you'd have a child with wings and more than the usual
limbs and a peculiar taste for rotten fruit," I'sai says; and then, a
little blankly, "-Turns-." But by his fraction of a smile, it's something
of a compliment, surprise or no. "And aye. Other way around wouldn't be
bad, but her hair, it's pretty something. Colored like that, and it's soft.
Er, that is, it's not as if she colors it, it's originally that way. I think."

Kassima's own small smile isn't of quite the same humor, but she confirms,
"Aye, since long a'fore 'twere free. And now you are free, and she's gotten
her wish... but I'll bet she wasn't predicting getting pregnant in the
bargain. Hah. And this should spare *mine* all that pink lace she was
threatening." Now *that* lights up her eyes, you'd better believe. "--Pshh,
Is, 'twill just nay ask how you'd think I'd have a child by a vtol anyway,
all right? Anyway. You should tell her that, about her hair. I'm sure she'd
be appreciating the hearing."

"Pink lace was mentioned around you even so," I'sai does point, still
mulling over the rest. "And I think she knows. I think. Maybe... hm. Maybe.
So, mint. And pink. And..." he levers himself up from the table. "Maybe our
littles'll play together or something, hm?"

"I should've known," Kassi mutters, face falling. "An escape would be too
much t'hope for. Aye, I suppose 'tis possible... though nay so *likely*;
Weaver's a long way from Telgar, but I imagine 'twill be here on visits,
hmm? And you're clearly happy about it." A fuller smile is offered his way.
"'Tis well. I can't think of a better blessing. Oh--but if'n you're going,"
for she noticed the levering, yes, "I should ask a'fore you get away, did
you have a chance t'be opening the box?"

"All right, and - well, _shells_. You're right, I hadn't thanked you,"
I'sai says. "Now I -know- I'm tired - that was impressive, and I don't know
if I dare play with them, but the _pieces_, and how they fit together in
the box and - it's so tidy, the way you can put them away like that, and
they'll be hard to knock over which is extra-good with firelizards around."

Kassima chuckles under her breath. "Ach, Is, don't think of it. If'n you
like 'em, you owe me nay more thanks than that. They *should* be safe
t'play with so long as you don't go slamming them into the board or aught;
jade and bronze are both strong--but either way, 'tis something t'decorate
your weyr, hey?"

"I do - and it is," I'sai says with a sudden smile, if one that tilts as he
says, "It's pretty bare. But maybe you'd come up sometime, have some klah
or whatever you're allowed, tell me what I'm missing. Or what you think I
am, anyway."

Kassima's head tilts slightly to the right. "If'n you'd like me to, I'd nay
be loathe," she agrees with faint, if not displeased, surprise--explained
then by, "I don't know if'n I've been up there since the *thong*, at least
for socialization rather than kidlet-bestowing--ach, and 'twill have t'tell
*Kisai*, she'll be spastic; unless you'd rather do the telling?--though
come t'think of it, I don't know whether the thong counts as socializing
*either*. Mind you, I'm half apt t'be saying you need weapons and
something's dead stuffed head on your walls."

"Well enough, then," I'sai says on a yawn. "Tell away. But if you bring
Pierron's stuffed head and hang it on my wall, I shan't be the one to
explain it to our headwoman. Good night, Kassi," and he regards her some
moments longer, and then departs.