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.

09-05-01: Rewardless Pursuits
Sometimes even the greatest of pursuits are doomed before they even begin.

Juice? Check. Sandwhich? Check. Lyddie? Oh--yes; she's sitting at a table with only a few other occupants, mentioned meal in front of her, although as yet untouched. She leans forward, fingers nudging about the edges of the sandwhich, which proves to be sloppy, oozing gravy about the plate, until she picks it up in her hands, aiming it towards her mouth.

R'yn is single minded as he lurches into the living caverns, looking neither right nor left, proffering not a single one of his usual smiles, but making his way straight to the serving table near the hearth. A plate is loaded high with a little bit of almost everything on offer, and he's using his fingers to pick up a large slice of wherry as he turns to survey the caverns. Biting down on it, his expression spells bliss, and only then does what he sees begin to trickle through to his brain for processing. Practicaly inhaling his second slice and beginning on his third, he weaves his way through the tables to arrive at that of the weyr's newest weyrwoman. "Mind some company?"

Lydiere bites slightly yellowed teeth down upon the edge of her sandwhich just as R'yn's words reach her ears, so, chewing rapidly, it takes some physical communication, in the form of a rapid nod, whilst chewing, for her affirmation to get through. Swallowing, finally, she greets, "Weyrleader. Are you always such a--messy, rapid eater, or is feeding yourself a particularly important achivement today?" Pleasantly, she licks her fingers, sandwhich returning to it's place upon her plate.

"Today" - pause, bite, chew, swallow - "eating is particularly important. I haven't" - pause, sit, bite, chew, swallow - "eaten since I rose, and I just had to put up with Zip feeding, and telling me just how sated he was, just how much he was enjoying it." A roll of his eyes communicates frustration, as he settles, and surveys the plate for his next victim. A gorgeously marinated fillet of fish is brutally shoved in between two slices of bread and a large bite taken. "Usually rapid, yes, but they don't usually let me get away with messy. How does your fair self, Lydiere?"

"That would," Lydiere agrees, taking another bite, chewing, and swallowing before she continues, "Make it particularly important, I suppose. As long as you don't give yourself indegestion in doing so. Llysereth's feeding often has the same effect on me, except that I still have to *handle* the meat, rather than just hear about it." Worse, no doubt. His fish is given a brief glance, a twitch of her nose following, attention returning, somewhat blandly, towards her own sandwhich, which is engulfed rather rapidly of it's own accord. "For shame--imagine, visitors coming by to visit, and discovering you with gravy down your chin." Which is exactly what situation Lydiere finds herself in, hastily using her finger to remove it, and licking away the evidence. "Well enough, thank you. Much the same. And your own self, beyond the famishment?"

R'yn is returning, slowly, to himself, but the rest of the fish disappears before he replies, finally settling back in his chair to consume bread and cheese with more decorum. "Beyond the famishment? I hadn't thought that far. Well, though, I think, and better yet for seeing you. My day is now brightened beyond all measurement." He teases, and his grin attests to this - for all that, though, he's still very much feeling out this woman he'll have to work with when she graduates. So far, the months have been insufficient to unveil Lydiere enough for his liking.

Lydiere, likewise, remains uncertain upon that particular subject--for all that, it sometimes seems, it weighs heavily upon her mind. "So kind," she retorts, chuckling wryly between sips of her juice. "Such a smooth talker." She winks, playing her hands up against her mostly empty plate, staying away from the gravy-soaked patches as best as possible. "But I'm glad to hear it."

R'yn grins, pushing his plate lazily toward the table's centre, a gesture offering its contents. Fruit, bread, cheese. "Of course I am. I've spent turns and turns practicing, so I'd be bound to be disappointed if I couldn't at least win that accolade. Persuading a woman that one means it - well, that's the difficulty, and something I don't think any man can ever perfect unless he means it to some degree." Trust R'yn to choose the topic of seduction upon which to philosophise.

Lydiere allows her eyes to scan at the plate, nose wrinkling profusely at the sight of cheese, although she picks up a piece of fruit without hesitation, taking a bite that sprays juice about her face. Grub. Swallowing, she laughs, head shaking lightly as once more she winks. "A grand achievement in life, in that case. It'd be very depressing if you couldn't, I quite agree. Imagine the feeling of inadequacy." Her eyes roll with her playful sarcasm, and she continues, "Meaning it certainly adds an earnestness to it, I suppose. The most important aspect to work on, I suppose."

R'yn nods, polishing off the last of his cheese, and reaching for more. "Indeed. I strive constantly for earnestness. Perhaps I should pursue you without cease, and you can be my judge - tell me when I reach the level of earnestness required to convince you I'm genuine, hmmm?" Movements and words grow slower now, and his usual tone is gaining dominance once more - that lazy drawl indicating his origins in Xanadu, the everpresent hint of amusement lurking as quicksilver eyesexamine her frankly.

Lydiere wipes her chin with one hand, and notes with a laugh, "Oh, and wouldn't that just look fine--Weyrleader chasing poor, innocent weyrling about just to try and gain a level of earnestness." She takes another juicy bite of her fruit, setting the seed down on her empty plate, and wiping her hands upon her breeches.

"We-ell." The girl has a point. "Hardly innocent, I think. I suppose I'd really need to wait a little, wouldn't I? In order to set a proper example." Chin propped up on one palm, he regards her for a moment through the blond locks that consistently tumble down into his eyes. "That's not an absolute no, though? All in the interests of refining my style, of course."

Lydiere pauses, eyes lit with amusement, and assents with a sigh, "Alas, I'm thinking you might be right. The innocent act is a bit hard to press, at this stage in my life. Alas, alack." Dramatic note edges her voice, to which she adds, "I suppose you'd have to, yes. Absolute no? I suppose it's not--of course, in the interests of your style. Very important." Firm nod, for emphasis.

"Very important." R'yn seems satisfied with this vague commitment - after all, many months will lie between this conversation and the attainment by her dragon of an age which would accomodate such practice. His harper fingers snake out, and claim the last of the bread and cheese, and it's bundled together a he rises easily. "For now, though, I must practice my earnestness elsewhere, in preparation for the challenge you'll provide. That, and I ache all over, so I'm dying to go soak. Until later." A grin, a wink, and he's departing, with goodness knows what on his mind.

Lydiere rolls her eyes, accompanied by a chuckle. "Soak well, then!"