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.

07-07-02: No sproglets here
It takes great willpower to avoid even mentioning the sproglet with Lydiere and G'wain.

G'wain sits at a desk at the side of the room, one that's much smaller than Lydiere's. He had it brought in when he became Wingleader, and it's served him well, even if it's cut down on the amount of space overall... still, the weyr is much more spacious than any normal weyr, so there's still adaquete room. Between scratching on papers with a soft leaded pencil, G'wain looks over towards his 'mate - the one that seems to be far too large. Looking over at Ahreluth, the /other/ 'mate, his eyes unfocus... and then a still-tentative touch alights on Llysereth's mind, << Will your rider be clutching soon? >>

Lydiere's begun to find it far more comfortable to try and sit on the bed and work, her legs crossed so that her oversized belly rests upon them, rather than hanging heavily above. She's got pillows behind her, billows beneath her, even pillows beside her, but comfort does not look like it's easily found; between swollen ankles, and that gaunt thinness that has never quite been lost, even though she's ballooned out in the middle, she just looks painfully out of sorts. Her head lifts, easily distracted, a hesitant smile offered to G'wain as he glances her way. Llysereth's quiet - almost broody, as she has been since she left the sands, waiting for Lydiere to 'hatch' impatiently. << Soon, >> she agrees, quickly, with a touch that absolutely radiates hope. << /Very/ soon. >> Wishful thinking, perhaps.

The message gets back to G'wain, and he sneaks another concerned look at Lydiere. Letting out a breath in something of a relieved sigh, he'll be happy when she's not hurting so, though she has been radient over the past months. Returning her smile, he glances back down to his work, making a few more notations. << G'wain thinks that if it isn't soon, the healers might have to crack her to help her hatch. >> My, my. He's just putting into terms that he can understand. << G'wain's worried. >> That featherlight touch quivers... Ahreluth's feeding off his rider's feelings.

Llysereth huffs, her own worry flaring up after a moment of hesitation, touch layered - concern, empathy for her mate, frustration, and even the faintest touch of joy, deep down beneath the other emotions. << She says she thinks it is only just due, now. It may be late. >> She doesn't sound quite convinced, however. "I saw that glance," says Lydiere, although she, too, has dropped her head towards her hides, giving them a frustrated glare. "You all need to calm. I'm fine. Maybe frustrated that I don't get such a thing as maternal leave, until the sproglet's born, but still fine."

G'wain squints at the paper a long moment, before putting the pencil down, and standing to move towards Lydiere. "I'm allowed to worry." Simple as that, he states his concern. "I think it comes as part and parcel as having a kid." Something then dawns on him. "Oh, shards... I forgot about the cot." Palm hits his forehead as he remembers, and he lets his eyes close. "I keep forgetting things, of late." He's just under a lot of stress. His mother told him that women sometimes die during childbirth, and that's got him triply stressed. Climbing onto the bed after he 'recovers', he sits where there's a free space, if any. << The little cousins will let us know. >>

Lydiere lets her own hides drop, reaching out a hand towards G'wain as he approaches, grasping hold of his as he sits down, as she shifts over to make sure that there's room. "I know you are, but having all these mostly silent, worried faces and feelings makes me feel as though I should be absolutely terrified, or put on bedrest just so that I don't do anything to myself. I've done this before. I suppose that makes a difference, since I know what to expect, but..." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, and then stretches, lifting her free hand to rub at her shoulders. "Don't stress about it. Be... calm." << They will, >> agrees Llysereth, << And /I/ shall know, I should think. I feel it moving, sometimes. >>

G'wain smiles softly, ruefully, and shrugs his shoulders. "You've done this before... I haven't. Maybe next time..." If there is a next time, his tone seems to say, though it is rather neutral, "I'll be less... worried, I guess. My mother's said that there's nothing to be worried about, also... But... I don't know. S'just..." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'll try. I will." He's made his promise, and so starts to take nice deep breaths. Ahreluth asks another question, something that he pulled from G'wain's mind. He's worried, but for other reasons. G'wain's in no state to give advice, so he just asks. << Now that Ayath has gone to Western... >> There's a pause, << What will happen to Zymanth? >> Translation: Are you going to leave and go to him?

"What?" teases Lydiere, "This one isn't even born, and you're even mentioning the posibility of another! If they develop the technology to let /men/ carry the things, then maybe. But..." She's grinning, though, although this is dropped as she nods, more serious. "I know. I can understand how you feel, I think." Her smile is encouraging, her hand squeezing. << Zymanth is Zymanth, >> says Llysereth, after a pause. << He's lonely, >> and she doesn't like this, << But that's all. >> Beneath her words, her thoughts are clear, her touch curling about Ahreluth's softly: Zymanth is her friend.

Ahreluth himself seems lonely at times, for Llysereth often gives off the impression that she's self-sufficient. But given this reassurance, he quietens down, but not before sending a soft, << What am I? >> to her, half afraid of the answer. G'wain remains rather oblivious of the conversation going on 'above his head', and moves his free hand to cover the hand that's squeezing his. "I didn't mean anything by that. Really." He's quick to say this, and nearly winces at the 'men having babies' bit. "What were you like, the first time Llysereth was clutching?"

<< Ahreluth. You're Ahreluth. >> What that means to Llysereth is difficult to say, but her response is flooded with warmth, touch rippling and soothing in a wake of silver and purple. "I know that," agrees Lydiere, fingers twining about G'wains, as she stretches out her legs, attempting once more to try and get comfortable. "Nervous, a bit. Then again, I'd been through childbirth myself-- dragons may have more eggs, but it generally lasts less time, and it's less dangerous. I've always been fairly practical over that kind of thing, I guess."

G'wain pulls Lydiere's hand gently to kiss it, and smiles over it once he's accomplished that. "I'm calm now. Well, on the outside." He's not ashamed to admit that he's still worried, but he's just... less worried on the outside. Does that mean he's more worried in the inside? "Well, it's kinda the same. To see someone that you love so much... and something might go wrong. There's like a small chance. The smallest chance... And it just keeps running through my head that it might happen..." He sighs, and looks down.

Lydiere's lips pull into a contented smile, almost serene again, as her hand is kissed, nodding her head slowly. "It's going to be fine, I promise," she avers, turning her head so that she's facing G'wain directly, and not staring over at the wall. "We'll have your mother there, if at all possible, and I'm sure she'll do exactly what needs to be done, without hesitation. You can trust her to do the best that can be done." Sighing, her gaze is drawn down to her pregnant middle, "But I suppose I worry, too, nonetheless. Though I hate to admit it, even to myself. It was nothing like this, when I was pregnant with Keid. No worries, during the pregnancy. Nothing."

Now it's G'wain's turn to reassure, to tell Lydiere what she wants to hear. Or what he thinks she wants to hear. "My mother'll be there, as you said. Maybe it's just that this one's more of a firebrand than Keid? Each pregnancy is different, mother says... Nothing can go wrong, if she's there. Heck - she's delivered more babies than some /real/ healers." And that's no exaggeration. Ahreluth settles on his part of the ledge, his mind growing quiet and contemplative as he looks out over the bowl.

"Must be," Lydiere agrees, although she still doesn't look certain, a hand drawn to rest upon her distended belly, worried. "And the fact that I'm nearly ten turns older, I suppose, and probably less fit than I was. I do too much sitting around." Not true, but it's probably easier for her to try and make excuses to herself. "That's right. I trust your mother-- she's wonderful, and I'm pleased that she'll be there. The healers are nice, but... It isn't the same." Llysereth's tail creeps off the end of the ledge, her head resting down upon her forelimbs as she settles down, eyes upon the weyr itself, seeking inwards.

G'wain shrugs his shoulders, and shakes his head. "You're not that old." His tone is incredulous - how could she even think such a thing? "And you don't sit around. I know /that/ for a fact. So don't even think that you do. Faranth... it's been hard enough to keep you from running around with this kid, the healers've said. At least, I think that's what they said."

Lydiere points out, her lips curving into a smile, "I have a son that's just a few months off being ten - I'm not that young, either. Point - points, I suppose - taken, though. I hate sitting around and doing nothing, but I do feel as though I am, sometimes. Especially when Llysereth was on the sands. Next time, if there ever is a next time, remind me not to be heavily pregnant on the sands. Ugh." She rubs at her leg, complaining, "I do wish the kid'd hurry up, though. He's taking his sweet time. Lazy thing."

Lydiere adds, thoughtfully, "You know, I look forward to a time when we can talk of things /other/ than pregnancy and children, though I can bet that that won't be for a while."

G'wain chuckles softly, and releases Lydiere's hand to slap his knees. "Well, then. What /do/ you want to talk about, if not pregnancy and children? Right now. We'll talk about something else. Just name it." He looks to her for the topic, wondering what she's going to come up with, if anything. "I will remind you, though I don't think you'll have much of a choice, if it just ends up happening again. "He seems to be, yes." My, it's going to be funny when the sex of the child is announced. "Now. New topic..."

Lydiere draws her hand back to her own lap, and then draws it back up, with the other, to wrap around her pregnant middle as she leans back against the pillows. "I don't know," she admits, "That's the problem. It was the same, last time-- all Keivare and I could do was talk about our dingy," her expression turns wry at mention of the pre-natal nickname. "He is. I bet he'll be an athlete." She pauses, shutting her eyes for a moment, thoughtfully. "New topic. Thinking. Thinking hard. Er-- how's the hidework going?"

G'wain raises his eyebrows at the use of the term 'dingy', but doesn't say anything about it. "Hidework. Out of all the topics for discussion on Pern, you manage to pick hidework?" His tone's amused, he answers her question. "Not too badly. There are a few greens that I'll have to point out to W'yn to ground, but other than that, there's nothing major going on."

"It's better than talking about the weather, isn't it?" Lydiere grins. At least this particular baby got 'sproglet', rather than something worse. Really. "Oh. Well, that's good, isn't it? I mean, better than being rushed off your feet, and too busy to think straight. That'd be worse, surely." Lydiere runs out of things to say again, and comes to a halt, smiling ruefully. "So."

What could it have been? Froggit? Traenlet? Sproglet works, though. "I guess it is. But not by much! We could have talked about your past, or mine, or we could have talked about... the dragons, or the Weyr... Anything. But... /hidework/?" He chuckles, and shakes his head. "I think they're giving me reasons to not rush around, and to be with you. Don't get me wrong, I like it... But I think I'd prefer doing things that take my mind of worrying."

Lydiere's expression turns wry, "All right, all right. I admit - it was a stupid topic, and I'm not sure why I thought of it. I mean, it's not exactly my favourite thing, either." She nudges at her hides, with one finger, grimacing as she pushes them off the bed, onto the floor. "Keeping busy is a good thing. We should do something, then, if they're keeping you from being too busy. Go swimming, have a picnic. Because I'd like to be active myself."

G'wain leans over the bed to retrieve the hides, making sure that Lydiere doesn't have to worry about getting them herself. "I know you don't like them, but there's no reason to get abusive, now!" His tone carries humour as he sets the hides back in position. "I'll just be active enough for the both of us... And take both the dragons to the beach. How's about that. It's a clear day, and there're enough 'lizards around to help out. How's about it?" << The beach! Wheeee! >>

"What, and make me jealous?" retorts Lydiere, although there's a smile to her face, a nod to her head. "That would be good. Llysereth dislikes going on her own, but I can see that she'd like to." The hides are given a grimace, although she says nothing of them, drawing herself into a more comfortable position. "And I shall take a nap, before I start thinking about working again."