All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright © Anne McCaffrey 1967,2000, all rights reserved, and used by permission of the author. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey, used here with permission. Use or reproduction without a license is strictly prohibited. For more information, visit the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey.

21-10-01: Tales
Celira yawns a bit, waking from her nap, then checks the little brown bundle in her arms. Glancing around the...

Celira yawns a bit, waking from her nap, then checks the little brown bundle in her arms. Glancing around the room, still half awake, she looks to see if anyone else is here. "Hiya Relian." Yawn interrupts a thought once more, before she finally blinks her eyes fully open. "How goes it?"

Relian runs his right hand through his tousled hair, pulling it away from his face in wooly strands -- preening? He turns, upon hearing Celira's greeting, a quirky grin filling in his expression to one of cheerful warmth. "Same to you, Celira. -- what's that, a new firelizard? Oh, I'm fine. Good, good. Yourself?"

Kuari tweeps in his sleep, wings rustling slightly.

Looking down at the brown, Celira's icy eyes soften. "Yep. This, my dear Relian, is Kuari. Picked him up on the way back from the Gather, believe it or not." She reaches her hand to the little brown, scritching his backridges ever so gently. Looking up at Relian, she nods at him. "Have you been to the Gather as of yet?"

Relian's gaze brightens, and he beams, "Congratulations, he's lovely, Celira." Momentarily, his gaze falls slightly, as he admits, "Sorry I missed it. Oh, yes, I've been. Briefly, anyway. I find it difficult, wandering around with so many people. Not *really* my scene, I'm afraid." Even if he does have a date for it.

Celira waves her hand casually at him. "It's beastly awful outside, anyways. Winds howling louder than a wounded dragon, not to mention the rain!" Face is made at that, and she snuggles her blanket around her shoulders. "I came back early because of it. Rather sit by the fire with a warm cup of klah, if ya ask me."

"So I saw. And felt," agrees Relian, eyes rolling. "An awful day for a gather, if ever there was one. We usually have such beautiful weather here, too." He drops his fingers from his hair, digging them in to his pockets comfortably. "That sounds like a nice idea -- may I join you, unless you're already taken? You *did* say you didn't mind picking someone up, after all, and I wouldn't want to interrupt *that*."

Celira chuckles softly, hopping ever so gently off the bed. "Why thank you for obliging me, kind sir." Blue eyes twinkle with amusement as she mock curtsies to him. "And yes, I would enjoy company. It's no fun to sit and stare at a fire by one's self." Laughing once more, she snugs the blanket around her shoulders and shuffles to the Living Caverns.

You go to the Living Cavern.

Relian follows Celira into the caverns, calling, "Oh, so I'm a 'kind sir', now, am I? Charmed, I'm sure." He gives a cheerful, amused wink, as he moves to pour klah into two mugs; "You sit down, I'll get the klah, and then we'll be perfectly cozy. Don't want to catch a chill, after all."

"Ooo..yer goin' to spoil me." Celira pulls two chairs closer to the fire, then tosses a few more logs on the hearth. With a soft sigh, she settles into one of the chairs. Lips curved into the usual slight smile, she watches as he goes off to fetch the klah. Much, much nicer to be in here than out in that nasty weather.

"And this is a problem?" retorts the young man, wiping thick locks of hair away from his face as he slides towards his companion, mugs held gingerly within his hands. These, he sets down upon a table near the hearth, with a flourish, a grin pressed towards Celira as his rear is positioned within the second of the chairs. "Perfect."

Celira leans back into the chair, eyes half-lidded with content. "Heh. I could definitely get used to this." Kuari chitters softly, though he doesn't screech his usual request for food. Brown head pokes over Celira's arm, staring at Relian. "Oh..by the way, his name's Kuari." Crooning, she scritches the brown's eyeridges. "It's okay, Ki, Relian doesn't bite. I think." Smirk.

Relian raises his eyebrows, retorting, "How would you know?" The comment is followed up with a light chuckle, as his legs are curled up within the seat, his arms wrapped about them -- klah left sitting upon the table. "Kuari. Pretty name."

Celira expressions are softened by the flicker of the heartfire, her eyes reflecting the reds and oranges of the flames. "Thanks. He's already showing a bit of personality, unusual for flits so young." Kuari, in reply, tucks his head back into Celira's arm to return to his nap. "And as far as knowing whether you bite or not, I can tell." Eyes look up at him, twinkling with amusement.

Relian ships his position once more, extending his limbs out towards the hearth in a moue of perfect relaxation. "Really? That's sweet, anyway. -- where does the word 'flit' come from, anyway? I thought it was more a...*doing* word. 'He flits about', or something. I never heard it, down south." He ruminates on this idea, hair turned more golden in the fire's gleam. "Oh-ho, you can, can you?"

Celira raises her head slightly, lips curled with mischief. "Of course I can. After living in 1 hold and 2 weyrs, I can read men quite well. Hence, why I am still single." Wink. Back to the flit question..."Oh, y'know? I'm not sure myself. I used to call them flizzen, but after moving here..." Shrug. "I picked up the 'flit' habit."

"What other weyr?" asks Relian, abruptly, sitting up somewhat. "I knew that you came from Ruatha, but I didn't know that you'd lived elsewhere, as well." Hesitating, he admits, "At least, I don't think I did." He responds to her wink with another of his own, grin quirky as he adds, sarcastially, "Oh, you can. Of course. Hmm. Guess it might be an Istan thing, then, or something."

"Telgar. I never mentioned it to you?" Celira wouldn't be surprised if she didn't recall, she's met so many people here at Ista. "True, I grew up in Ruatha, but when I was 16, my mum sent me to Telgar for....reasons." Her eyes darken slightly at memories of old. Shivering once, she blinks back to now. "After a Turn at Telgar, I moved here."

Relian shakes his head, wooly locks falling out of alignment to cover his eyes, pushed promptly out of the way. "Oh, I see. Telgar -- must be pretty cold, there?" His sense of climate -- and even the meaning of 'cold' -- is limited. "And you like it here better, then, I suppose?"

Celira shrugs a bit. "The climate at Telgar wasn't that much different than Ruatha, to be honest." Fiddling with the edge of the blanket, she stares thoughtfully into the fire. "But it is much warmer here. And yes, I think I do prefer this weather." Head turns as her blue eyes meet Relian's brown.

"Except for these storms. At least up north, we just got snow." Grin.

Relian's interest caught, he nods, shifting his foot around to warm its other side; "I can't really imagine a place that got so cold. Real seasons would be enough of an oddity. -- Oh, but I love storms. At least," he hesitates, giving a rueful grin, "When I'm in bed, and I can hear it raging around me, but I'm all cozy and warm. I think it'd be better than a snow storm."

Celira nods her head, smile curling upwards a little bit more. "I know exactly what you're sayin'. When I was little, we'd get these wicked blizzards during winter." The far-off look returns momentarily, but this one lightens her eyes rather than darken. "I remember curling up near the fire with a thick blanket and huge cup of klah, sometimes with one of my mum's scrolls to read." Shifting her feet, she sighs. "That was the best. And, this is like it. But, with good company to boot." Wink.

Relian finally deigns to lift his klah mug into his hands, cradling it there in thoughtful silence. "Mmm," he finally agrees, lips twisting into a smile, "My mother used to tell us stories, and then, when the storm was finally over, we'd go exploring -- and see what damage had been done. It was usually quite fun, except when the river flooded." He returns her wink, adding, "But of course."

Celira shifts to face Relian, snuggling the blanket around her feet. "Stories? Oh, do tell!" Realizing she hasn't touched her klah either, she reaches out to grab it, raising the delicious contents to her lips. "Faranth, that's good." Half-lidding her eyes, but without any coy or flirtatious look to them, only friendship (for now), she nods to Relian, indicating him to continue.

Relian hesitates, admitting, "I don't know if I remember any in full, but I'll give it a try." He adds, as he snuggles himself up, swallowing a sip of the scalding hot klah, "I'm not the best story teller around, either. I'll try." He lids his eyes, face set in a mask of concentration, hands clasping tightly to the mug--"Once upon a time, there was a mug. But not just any mug: it was a mug brought over from the north, many, many years ago, by a young man who wanted a hold of his own. It was, therefore, a special mug, a historical mug." A mug. Yes.

Lips breaking into a grin, Celira settles in for a good story. Mug? Mug. Yep, she heard him right. Stifling a giggle, she hides her face in her mug momentarily, sipping once more from the dark goodness.

Relian's struggling to contain his own mirth -- his eyes are glittering, as he raises his eyelids, staring into the fire. "So, anyway, there was this mug. The northman, who brought it from the north, and founded his own hold, eventually found a wife, and had a family, and his family, too, had families. About a hundred turns later, the current holder had a daughter named Rysseil, who was seven turns old. She was a *very* curious seven turn old, to say the least, and the mug *fascinated* her."

Arching one eyebrow delicately, Celira begins to wonder why this mug might be intriguing. Ah, but that's part of the story, isn't it? Lips pursed in a grin, she nods again.

"Now, Rysseil's mother had told her, many times, that the mug was a perfect mug - the type that they didn't make any more, because quality was diminishing, and the skills were being lost. So Rysseil was in *awe* of this thing that was so much older than her." Relian adds, sotto-voce, "I think she was a bit of an idiot, myself, for a seven turn old. But..." he trails off, winking. "Rysseil decided, one day, that she desperately needed to try the mug out, for herself."

Celira's smile breaks into a full blown grin. Uh oh. Here we go, young girl getting into trouble. Sounds familiar....hmm..who would it be..ah! Why, Celira, of course.

Relian winks, as, through his reverie, he notes Celira's grin -- "Familiar, neh?" Smirking, he continues, "Ah, but Rysseil's plans were foiled, for she confided in her younger sister, and her younger sister, in fear and shock, told their mother. This was, you see, a very much respected mug." He gives a firm nod, "And thus, Rysseil got in a lot of trouble. But she wasn't completely cured of her curiosity. The turns passed, and she became a woman."

Celira arches both eyebrows, the grin still upon her lips. Sneaking another sip of klah, she continues to stay silent, not wishing to interrupt the tale-spinning spell that Relian has successfully woven between them.

Relian responds with an arch of his own eyebrows, making no comment save to continue the tale with as much vocal finesse as he can muster -- he's not great tale spinner, and his technique is lacking, but he's enjoying it, nonetheless. "Grown up Rysseil had never forgotten the mug, and when she met a young man, and they decided to handfast, and her parents offered her anything within their home, as a personal gift -- she chose the mug. What else? There was some dispute, that the mug should stay within the hold itself, but in the end, Rysseil won out. The mug was hers."

Nodding, she /thinks/ she can see where the story's leading, but then again, one can never tell, can they? Celira chooses to just tuck all this information in her head. And notices that indeed, she has been enjoying Relian's company quite a bit lately. Brief flicker of thought, but noticed nonetheless. Ahem.

"And what do you think happened then, Celira?" asks Relian, repositioning himself once more, his lips resting upon the edge of his mug as he takes a sip. "What do you think?"

Blink. Oops, caught off guard on this one, Celira is. "Ahhh...well, they took the mug, and started a Hold...namely, yours?" Feeling a slight blush that was not due to the fire, she hides her face in her mug again. Caught indeed!

Relian fails to restrain his mirth, but shakes his head, "No, indeed. Rysseil was already the daughter of my hold, in actual fact -- but, to finish the story," he winks, continuing, "As Rysseil and her new husband lay in bed that night, she brought out the mug, pouring wine into it -- the perfect way to finish concecrating their union. And you know what happened?" He waits, extending his own pause, "It leaked."

Blink again. Did he say 'leaked'? He did! Celira nearly loses her klah through her nose when he says this, breaking into a sputtering fit of laughter.

"It....leaked?" Gasp. Losing her composure, she breaks into a giggle fit, obviously amused by this unforseen ending. If the story's ended, that is. "Faranth!..." Laugh, laugh, laugh. "gahhh...is that it?"

Relian chortles in response to Celira's laughter, bobbing his head rapidly, although he regains composure long enough to note, seriously, "So, ever since, young children of the hold have been told of Rysseil's folly, and the story has been used to remind us that things aren't always what they seem."

Celira takes a deep breath, shaking her head while her lips twitch with restrained amusement. "Ahh..that's a good one, Relian. Good one!" Raising her mug to him, she takes another sip. "And with a good moral to it as well, for indeed, things aren't always what they seem." Chuckling softly, she sets her mug down on the table, stretching her feet out towards the fire. "So, this Rysseil is a true person, and a member of your hold...any relation to you, in fact?"

Relian positively beams, relaxing into his chair, a swig of klah taken to refresh his voice. "I'm glad you like it - I wasn't sure if I could tell it the way my mother did, but at least I remembered it all." He raises his mug in response to hers, nodding, "It certainly taught *me* a lesson, I think. Rysseil is my--many times great grandmother, actually. She was the only one of her brothers and sisters to have a child, and so he, Visroyn, became Holder, next."

Celira nods her head, truly interested. "Exactly how far back have you been able to track your family's history?" She can trace hers back to her mum's grandmum, and that's about it. "And, to add to that, how large is your family?" She feels a sneeze coming on, but manages to stifle it.

Relian counts on his finger as he makes his explanation, wiggling backwards in his seat, "We know, more or less, as far back as the first holder of Black Rock River, but we don't know where he came from in the North, or who his family was. There's seven kids in my generation, because my father was an only child, but there are second-cousins, around the area. Mother's family comes from another Hold again, so there's others, there, but not connected to our branch, on the whole."

Celira nods in wonderment. "Amazing. Simply amazing. I could never----wAAAChooo!" Yep, the sneeze returned, triumphant. Luckily, she reached for a napkin just in time. Sniffle. "ugh...my apologies, Relian." Sniff sniff. "Faranth, if I get sick because of the Gather, I'm going to be a trite bit grumpy." One final sniff, and she looks back up at him. "Speaking of, will you be going tomorrow, pending weather?"

"Oh Faranth, I hope you don't get sick, either. That would be absolutly awful." Relian shakes his head, adding, "No need to apologise--I suppose I will be going, yes. At least for a little while. It isn't all that often that there are gathers so near, after all." He sets down his empty mug, wrapping arms about his legs, leaning back.

Celira manages one final sniffle before convinced no sneezes would revisit her. "Yeah, and you wouldn't want to let Serafa down either, no?" Grin. Wicked grin. "Remember, she's a Healer, and has access to many sharp objects in the infirmary." Teasingly, she winks at him. "And, I'm hopin' the weather'll clear up too so I can finally wear my Gather dress!"

Relian groans good naturedly -- "Ouch! Note to self: don't upset Serafa in any way, shape, or form." Winking, he stretches out his legs once more, nodding rapidly, "Oh, I hope so, too. It'd be a shame, not to be able to wear it." A yawn escapes his lips, and he admits, "I think I'm going to retire, much as I hate to. I'm awfully sleepy; must be the warmth of the fire."

Stretching rather languidly, like a feline, Celira nods in agreement. "Same here. I've been running around in this weather, so I think I'm goin' to get a good night sleep m'self." Rising from her chair, she nods her head in the direction of the dorms. "Coming?"

Relian rises, carefully escorting the mugs into the dirty dishes pile, following after Celira, "Coming, indeed. I'll see you in the morning, no?"