August 26, 2002
Talysen and Corinal enjoy an evening in her room, not long after his engagement to Tabriel.

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Corinal comes in to the room.

Talysen is spread out upon her bed, propped up by pillows, making a cheerful mess as she notes down equations on a scrap of hide. She's humming - tunelessly.

Corinal enters the room without a knock, indeed without any kind of warning. The door is slammed behind him, and then he stands, gazing at the Starsmith until she acknowledges him.

Talysen doesn't so much as lift her head at Corinal's entrance, though there's no way that she's missed it. Instead, after a suitably lengthy pause, she drawls, "Something the matter, My Lord?"

"I don't know how I can marry that harpy," Corinal answers, narrowing his eyes as he's all but ignored. "Though given my reception here, I can't imagine why I don't just move up the date of the wedding."

Talysen lifts her gaze, regarding Corinal calmly. "I'm sorry for not pouncing upon you, and interrupting everything for you. I shan't do it again." Shifting her position, the Starsmith adds, "You'll manage. Y'can ignore her, most of the time."

"Ignore her? She's supposed to be the mother of my children, I can't do that..," Corinal answers hotly. He pauses, then notes, "She tried to insist I give you up."

"She's a fool," responds Talysen, putting down her stylus and hide. "Fine then, don't ignore her. All you have to do is get her pregnant, and once the sprog-thing is born, come and visit it once a sevenday so that it knows who it's father is."

"Three times, Talysen. I have to get her pregnant three times," Corinal answers with a snort, inviting himself to a seat. "Nor am I just going to hope that six out of every sevendays she's teaching them the right thing."

Talysen belatedly waves her hand in invitation to take said seat, adding, "Three times, then. Do it quick, keep her pregnant for nearly three turns straight, and hire someone sensible to make sure the brats are raised properly."

"And what do you suggest I do with her afterwards? Lock her up in a room somewhere?" Corinal answers. "I'm not unreasonable," he continues, running his hand through his hair. "I said she could take a lover after the three children were born."

"That's reasonable enough," agrees Talysen, watching Corinal thoughtfully. "Then you just have to cope. Try and learn to reason with her, and-- I don't know. I'd suggest slap her one, when she was stupid, but I don't s'pose you'd be ammenable to that."

"I cannot slap my Lady Holder," Corinal answers, giving Talysen a dark look. "Are you mad? Do you think I need /that/ incident making the rounds of the cotholds?"

Talysen gives a light shrug of her shoulders. "That's why I said you wouldn't be ammenable to it. I don't know. Do you expect /me/ t'have all the answers for you?"

"I don't suppose I could," Corinal answers after a moment's pause. "But then..I don't think you'd care either way," he continues, watching the master.

Talysen shrugs, again. "Not much. I enjoy your company, but do I - should I? - care for your happiness with your wife-to-be? I don't see why."

"I'm not talking about happiness, I'm talking about coping with her," Corinal snorts. "Do you care about anything? Besides your conservatory, of course."

"There's happiness, in coping. P'rhaps not full-blown happiness, but contentedness, maybe," drawls Talysen. "/Not/ the conservatory. I care for my numbers, and for my slightly insane old fostermother. I care for my home."

"And where is that?" Corinal inquires, voice dry.

"Ista." answers Talysen, without a pause. "Hold, Weyr, whatever."

"You don't seem particularly Istan to me," Corinal remarks, then slumps in his seat somewhat. "Who is your fostermother?"

"Perhaps there's more to me than you see, Lord Corinal," Talysen retorts, though not unkindly. "Nejilia. Former Headwoman, at the weyr."

"I can only see what you choose to reveal, Master Talysen," Corinal answers back. "You're hardly forthcoming with your life's details."

Talysen regards Corinal thoughtfully. "My father was a trader who passed through, my mother a brownrider. I was fostered when I was born, refused search, apprenticed, made Journeyman. Got posted here just after I got my Mastery. Anything more you want to know?"

"Do you want to stay here, or are you looking for another promotion in the Craft?" Corinal inquires. "Do what anything mroe out of like at all?"

Talysen snorts. "Promotion? Even if I were, it would not be forthcoming. No, no. You've the reject Starcraft Master posted to your Hold, I'm afraid. I'm perfectly content where, and as, I am."

"You're perfectly content to do this for the next sixty Turns..right here?" Corinal inquires, voice deceptively mild.

"Why not?" responds Talysen, lazily.

Corinal says nothing for a heartbeat, then raises a brow. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

Talysen blinks. Several times. "What?"

"Pregnant. That condition which is sometimes referred to as 'being with child'," Corinal answers blandly.

"Fardles, no. That's the one thing that /would/ ensure I'd leave and never come back." Talysen shakes her head vehemently. "Why do you ask?"

"I didn't want to leave a bastard behind me," Corinal answers with a shrug. "For a time, at least, this is going to have to stop. The Hold will be too crowded with guests for me to do this discreetly."

"As you wish," says Talysen, nodding her head. "Seems fair."

"I have no doubt that you'll find your amusements elsewhere," Corinal adds as he climbs to his feet, looking as if he were making ready to go.

"Of course. No doubt, it'll either paint me the slut," which seems to amuse the Starcrafter; well, she /is/ coming on forty, "Or suggest that it's all over." She watches Corinal stand, regarding him - not thoughtfully, but with interest. "You're off, then?"

"I have a lot to do. We still have repairs, and shortly guests will start arriving for the party. Wedding arrangements have been made, and of course the Conclave intends to witness /that/..." Corinal shrugs. "I don't think I'll have a free night until the day after the wedding."

"Ah," says Talysen, emotionlessly. "Perhaps I'll see you then, in that case."

Corinal inclines his head. "Perhaps then. Master Talysen," he adds cordially, heading for the door.

Talysen shakes her head, and, after a moment's pause, lifts up her hide and stylus again, and gets back to work.

Corinal heads out of the room.

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