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.

12-05-02: Lonely illness
When W'yn visits, to find Lydiere not only hurt but also physically ill, she's got a secret to admit to.

Lydiere hunches over a seat at the edge of the bar, nursing a tall glass of something that looks rather curiously like water, oddly enough. Her gaze is focused upon the glass, and the fingers that twine about it - that is, her own - and she's rather apparently oblivious to anything else going on within the room.

J'ey steps into the room, this is not his usual hang out, seeing that one glass of wine is enough for him but something seems to pull him there. he glances to a couch in the corner, almost in shadows and then drags his eyes away and he notices Lydiere and he blanches a little and then he puts on his mask of correctness and walks further into the bar and he goes to the other end of the bar and nods, waiting for service from the barkeep.

G'wain's already here, and sitting on that couch that J'ey's eyes glanced towards. In the shadows he can't really be seen all that well, nothing less than a searching look from a metre off would reveal the person on the couch. Sitting there with a glass of wine in his hand, he's suprisingly quiet, waiting for something or someone, perhaps.

And thus, three people, three places. Lydiere uses both of her hands to lift her glass to her lips, downing most of the contents in a single swallow, one hand pulling away from the glass to wipe at her mouth. "No, no. No bad ale today, thanks, Gessie," she says, responding to a comment from one of the bartenders on duty. "Water is fine. Just... fine." Hence, the lingering glance towards the selection of alcohol behind the bar.

J'ey starts as he hears Lydiere's voice break throgh the general hum of the bar and he glances at her as if seeing her for the first time. Eyes betray and glance towards the couch and then hurridly away and he slides down the bar, pretending not to have noticed Lydiere before "Lyddie" he says carefully, almost overly casually "I did not see you here, what brings you here." He glances towards the drinks and at Gessie and shakes his head and then nods "Something light" he requests "Nothign too strong"

G'wain is still at the back of the bar, his eyes shining lightly in the shadows. He's not going to make his presence known before the time is 'right', if it ever is at all. Sipping at his wine, perhaps the time will be 'right', when he runs out of the red liquid? Curling his legs underneath him, he watches J'ey through the crowd, Lydiere not ignored, but not concentrated on, eitehr.

"Sometimes it seems as though the living caverns are too busy and productive to make moping feel right. It's out of place, if you know what I mean." Lydiere's comment is made without a turn of her head, nor even an actual greeting towards J'ey; it's almost as if it were a non-sequiter, entirely out of place. "I guess this place is better for that kind of thing. -- The light ale here is good, I think. You might like it, J'ey." Apparently, she either doesn't know that G'wain is there in the shadows, is ignoring him, or just doesn't care-- take your pick.

J'ey seems that J'ey does know this, perhaps why he is drawn to the bar, not having been one to frequent such establishments in the past but he feels drawn and he nods reluctantly "It is darker, more for brooding." he frowns as he glances at Lydiere and then accepts the light ale from Gessie and sips cautisouly "But why are you moping Lydiere, I hope I..." he breaks off "I hope everything is alright with you?" well obviously not if she is moping.

Brooding is indeed the reason that G'wain's in the corner. Still he watches carefully, not caring either know that he's there. Turning on the couch, he stretches out his legs, finding a more comfortable position to observe from. Eyes flickering from J'ey to Lydiere, then back to J'ey, he's not exactly in the 'chatty' mood.

Lydiere hands her glass back to Gessie, who refills it, returning it several moments later. "Oh, I guess. I don't know. I'm not sleeping well, nor feeling well, and--" there's the unspoken comment, which is obvious enough in context, "Well, you know. Sometimes, a person just needs to mope a bit." She hesitates, finally asking, "And you? Are you brought here for such a reason?" She looks, for the record, tired. Dark bags beneath her eyes, her skin waxily pale.

J'ey looks with concern at Lydiere, taking in her features and the affects of lack of sleep have had on her "Are you alright Lyddie?" he asks, the concern edging his voice, but also avoiding the question of why he is here "Is there anything I can do?"

Looking at his soon-to-be-empty glass, G'wain swills it as he listens to countless conversation, himself silent except for a few coughs here and there. Finishing his glass, there's a hoarse rasp, "Gessie!" that might be recognisable as him, then again, maybe not. Gessie rolls her eyes as she heads over to G'wain, a nod of her head at his hushed order. Handing over some marks, he waits for his drink.

"Fine! I'm /fine/." says Lydiere, with rather more force than she probably intended; she's immediately contrite, flushing, muttering: "Sorry. I'm just-- tired. No, I don't think there's anything you can do." She's still short in inflection, and avoids looking at J'ey, finding rather peculiar fascination within her glass. G'wain's call is all but lost to the sounds of the cavern, and yet, she half sits up, glancing about, and then shrugs, looking down again. She must have been mistaken. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do, to be honest. And you didn't answer my question."

"Fine! I'm /fine/." says Lydiere, with rather more force than she probably intended; she's immediately contrite, flushing, muttering: "Sorry. I'm just-- tired. No, I don't think there's anything you can do." She's still short in inflection, and avoids looking at J'ey, finding rather peculiar fascination within her glass. G'wain's call is all but lost to the sounds of the cavern, and yet, she half sits up, glancing about, and then shrugs, looking down again. She must have been mistaken. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do, to be honest. And you didn't answer my question."

J'ey jumps, whether at Lydiere's snapped comment or perhaps he heard G'wain's call but he refrains, forcing himself not to stare at /that/ couch. He feels like he is burning up and he fans himself "is it hot in here or just me?" He asks and presses a hand against his forehead "perhaps I am coming down with something, do you know if something is going around." He takes a large gulp of the ale, trying to cool down and then he sets the mug down and frowns, truth be told he has forgotten the question "your question?" He pauses and then rests fingertips lightly on Lydiere's arm "If there is something I can do, just tell me, we are friends right?"

G'wain holds his hand out for his change, and for the wine glass, a gruff, "Thanks," before settling back into the couch. Gessie returns to the bar, muttering, "Y'know, some of them bronzeriders think they can just order me 'bout. And wingleader too... I shouldn't complain... But G'wain gets on my nerves sometimes. I'd kick him out if he was making a fuss... But he's not." This is said to a fellow bartend, Gussie.

Lydiere shifts uncomfortably, peering at J'ey. "Well... I suppose it is warm. Maybe you're getting what I've got. I hope not; it's not particularly nice." If it makes a person look like Lydiere does now, that's probably a very true statement. She finishes her water with a sigh, pushing the glass away. "My question. What brought you here? -- I will, I will. Of cours we're... friends." Sort of, tentatively. Again, she stiffens-- she's heard Gessie, apparently, and winces, shutting her eyes. "Fardles."

J'ey sighs and nods "I suppose you are right, I've felt a bit strange, not like myself since..." he breaks off whatever he was saying and he frowns at Gessie and Gussie and glances towards that couch "G'wain?" he calls tentatively in that direction and then back at Lydiere "Perhaps you should see a healer Lydiere, you really don't look well." He blanches and tries to recover "I mean you look I mean, You should, I mean..." he trails off into mumbling and decides on another tact and shrugs "Perhaps I felt like brooding, looking for someone to talk to and they say that a barkeep is always someone good for talking things over with"

Gessie is there in a flash, a sombre grin on her face. "What c'n I help ye with, dear? I'm good ta talk to if'n ye need me." She grew an accent. Or perhaps this is her sister, Messie. "I c'n offer advice on anyhting. I've seen it /all/, dear." G'wain stands from the couch only briefly, his head passing into the light before he slinks back. If one was attentive, they might have noticed. "J'ey," is the softer reply from the couch... he's not moving.

Lydiere admits, in a voice that is very intentionally not designed to travel: "I'm afraid to go to a healer, in case of what they might tell me." Very, very carefully not looking at all in G'wain's direction, upon that statement, as she hurriedly keeps talking, "I guess we all feel a little... off. Things aren't exactly hugs and canines, are they?" Her fingers desperately seek out something else to fiddle with, finally catching upon a plate of nuts sitting atop of the bar, which she attacks vehemently, swallowing a handful almost without chewing. "I--" Gessie's comment, and then G'wain's greeting, and she goes noticably silent.

J'ey frowns "Frightened of what they might tell you?" He ducks at the onslaught from the barkeep and shakes his head "It's alright, perhaps you would not understand, but I am a private man so maybe I just came here to hunch over my ale." He doesn't notice G'wain stand and greet him, eyes focussed with concern on Lydiere but his shoulders tense as he hears his name "Things are strange, and denying it makes it worse but perhaps there is some horrible flu going around and one side effect is to make us all melancholy without any real need?"

G'wain returns to a seated position, sipping at his wine once more. He hasn't heard much of their conversation at all, only snippits here and there, and now's not a time where he'll begin to hear clearly. Messie nods her head and moves off to another part of the bar with her rag, "Anytime, dearies!"

"Forget it. Forget I said anything," says Lydiere quickly, sharply. "Yes, things are strange, and yes, denying it makes it worse. I'm not sure if I even should be talking to you, right now. Isn't it called consorting with the enemy, or something?" Mood swing, anyone? Her voice grows sharper still, as she shuffles along the edge of her stool. "There's need. That's /not/ a symptom of my bloody 'flu, nor yours, if you've got it, too."

J'ey looks shocked at Lydiere's sudden mood swing "Enemy? What by the first egg are you talking about Lydiere! Enemy? Since when have we become enemies, i thought we were friends, clutchsiblings, even when I say thoughtless things in front ofyou, you still forgive me and I still care about you." He pauses, really at a loss to knowing what Lydiere is talking about "Is this about the flight? I thought you understood that, it was just a flight, really it was, really" Seems someone is protesting a might too much.

Lydiere's fingers start to reach towards the plate of nuts again, twitching slightly, but they come to a halt, then fall downwards-- she makes a fist, with which to hit the top of the bar with a great smack, turning to face J'ey full on, her eyebrows raised. "Fardling between, J'ey, go on, keep deluding yourself. It was /just/ a flight, until you stole my weyrmate away from me. Did you really /have/ to do that? Wasn't M'kan enough for you?" Unreasonable, but anger has a way of taking over, and there's no doubt that Lydiere is angry, to the point of there being a note of hysteria to her voice that is quite out of place, entirely unlike her. "/Friends/ don't do things like that, or so I thought."

J'ey jumps up and shakes his head "I can see where I am not wanted but I have no idea what you are talking about Lydiere" His voice raises so that it carries over the hum of the bar, which seems to have ceased though with this bit of tidbit going on "I have not stolen G'wain, I don't want G'wain! Why would I want G'wain, you know I came to you feeling bad about that and you! It was you who told me not to worry and told me it was just a flight and now what you have changed your mind??" He shakes his head "I am hurt you would accuse me of such things, perhaps you don't trust me or care for me like I care for you and I would never deliberately hurt you Lydiere whatever you might think. How much have you had to drink Lydiere to go smearing my reputation like this?" He glares at Lydiere "Tell me what I have done to have stolen G'wain, I have barely seen or spoken to G'wain in days"

"He doesn't even /look/ at me anymore, or talk to me, or anything. Bloody hell, J'ey, I don't know what you did, but you certainly ensured that he--" she trips over the words, tears forming in her eyes - another oddity; Lydiere's hardly known for tears - "got over me. It /was/ just a flight, until it ruined my weyrmating, because my bloody weyrmate fell for you instead." J'ey therefore makes a good scapegoat - or, at least, another good scapegoat. "Haven't you /noticed/, or are you denying it, all of a sudden? If you're my friend, as you say you are, tell me the truth." More tears, sliding down the curve of her nose and cheeks, falling towards her knees.

J'ey sinks down onto the barstool, looking very shocked, his voice quiet now "me?" He shakes his head, trying to understand what Lydiere is saying "I don't understand what you are saying, G'wain has not fallen for me, he has said nothing to me about this" Probably because J'ey acts like a frightened rabbit whenever G'wain is around, a mixture of guilt and some other emotions "I know nothing about this Lydiere I assure you and I tell you it was never my intention. Have you talked to him about this? i seem to remember after your last flight G'wain having the same fears, are you sure this is the case?" He looks very worried and confused and also something else hidden in those emotions, guilt and suprise and almost pleasure mixed in. he sees the tears and wants to hug Lydiere but fears rejection.

Lydiere attempts to shake those tears away within wiping them, since that would draw too much attention, and she won't risk them being seen; she doesn't know that they already have been. "Of course he hasn't. But don't tell me you didn't have the faintest clue. Don't tell me that you thought all of this was just normal post-flight behaviour. That's just plain stupid." She snorts, turning her head away, watching the bar, bitter. "Oh, we talked. Or /yelled/, rather. No. Things were perfectly fine between us, until that bloody flight."

J'ey shakes his head and stands and dusts himself off, something to do with his hands rather than hug Lydiere who at this point he fears might hit him if he did that. He looks sorrowfully at Lydiere "I swear I had no idea, you think I wanted G'wain to catch when I could have had my own weyrmate, you think there is a choice in flight, you were the one who told me there was no choice it was just a flight and I swear I have done nothing to encourage G'wain, I have only talked to him once and he made no mention of .... of anything" He frowns as if trying to recall if this is the truth thought he memory of that conversation is a little hazy "I swear I did not plan this." He bites his lip, not liking being called stupid "I see my company is abhorrant to you Lydiere so I will remove myself from you so not to cause you pain for I would never do that deliberately and with that he stalks towards the door, eyes glancing at the couch and then away and back again as if he cannot help it, divesting this new information that Lydiere has told him.

Lydiere half stands within her seat, the tears falling more rapidly, angry droplets that cloud her vision and stain her face. "If that's so, then do something about it," she murmurs, soft enough so that it's potentially doubtful how much will reach J'ey's ears. "You can't want this anymore than I do." There's desperation within her gaze, a sob to her voice-- the hysteria is gone, and now she's just crying.

J'ey fears the tears and is fleeing and so misses the words taht Lydiere sends after him as he slips out the door and he shakes his head at the monumental news that he has just heard.