The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Saturday 10 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Wyn.
A Friend in Need...
A retconned RP to explain Kh'ryn's return to High Reaches....Igen Desert: An Underground Tavern
Igen, Igen, broiling, sunny, sandy Igen. Definitely -not- High Reaches Weyr, which is where the transplanted woman in a blue and black weyrsecond's knot wandering into the underground taverna is devoutly wishing she were. In deference to the climate, Wyn's riding leathers have been exchanged for a sensible burnoose and even a few of the veils commonly seen on the women of the area. The stack of hides and scrolls under the petite bluerider's arm is unchanged, though, as she settles at a table and orders "Rivergrain saki, if you please?" from the nearest hired help.
A group of riders enter behind the High Reachian lass, removing flight gear with every step they take into the cool shadows of the tavern. As warm as the environment may be, there's no getting around the standard uniform dresscode when flying sweeps. Helmet and gloves are tucked away from sweaty bodies as the leader of the group points out a suitable table nearby. As the riders make to sit, one of them notices a familiar face hiding behind a wineskin near the back of the room. "He's here again," he tells his chums, nodding towards the blond man in question. The leader leans back in his chair to confirm the sighting, and then shrugs. "So what. He's got just as much right to be here as you do, R'tern. Leave him be." But the younger rider isn't giving up so easily. "But he's -always- here," R'tern comments again. "I mean... Sure, he flies when he's needed and all but... Doesn't he have a life?" His questions are once again answered by the leader, who demands a change of topics by restating, "I said, leave him. Trust me - if you had the kind of life that he did, you'd be wanting to spend your spare time drowning yourself in ale too."
Little do the others know that the glass of wine caught up within the blond man's grasp is still his first one. The warmth of the liquid can attest to that. And the wineskin is just for show. It's a fairly simple method of keeping people away, for who wants to converse with a surly looking drunkard anyway?
Wyn glances up as the riders enter, tossing them an exceedingly free-form salute that's more a vague wave of two fingers near her right temple. Outranking them, even if she's from another weyr, the woman sees no reason to offer spit and polish formality when the entire lot of them are all here with the same purpose in mind. As her saki arrives in a little laquered pitcher with little shot glasses to match, Wyn eavesdrops idly as she pours for herself, ignoring the reports she's brought, since she's by now already memorized them. The comments, paired with a familiar head of blond hair, suddenly twig something. So, taking her alchohol, but leaving her reports, the bluerider crosses the sandy floor to settle herself at her counterpart's table and wonder "Kh'ryn?"
Obviously, there are some people willing to talk to him afterall.. Much to his displeasure. At the woman's query, the blond man keeps his gaze lowered, though he raises his glass, toasting the rider. However, his words are hard and unwelcoming, no matter how softly spoken. "Might be. I think I recall a man of that name..." The sarcasm is tinged with a little anger, as though the man is somewhat insulted that this stranger knows who he is. "And who might you b..." As the words slip between gritted teeth, Kh'ryn finally does lift his head. Upon seeing who it is, he stops mid-word and blinks. "Wyn?" Recognition and shock play against his features, as he comes to realize that he's not imagining things. Sure enough, the person standing before him is one of his old aquaintances from High Reaches. "What... What are you doing here?" The drunken act is dropped quite suddenly, and a flash of the Khor of old is offered instead. Those riders gathered nearby certainly would find it hard to believe the change in him; were they still looking his way.
Wyn is apparently rather nicely impervious to false drunkenness when it comes to checking in on old friends, because she merely retains a bland smile as Kh'ryn attempts to get her to go away, and rewards him with a slight flicker of increase in the expression when he looks up at her. "Yes, very much Wyn, despite the native garb. Pyrene sent me off here to teach you lot how to fly Fall like 'Reachians, and then trapped me here by announcing a quarantine. I intend to head home regardless, but I'd heard you often haunted this place..." A glance around the subterranean lair, taking in the sand floor of the cave, the pitted wood tables, and general air of mild disrepute. Just enough to add flavour, mind. Igen ain't Bitra.
Haunt is right. Though he'd been living in Igen now for more than a few Turns, there are very few people who've actually gotten to know the man behind the rider. Hiding out in an environment like this one could be one of the reasons. As for the others ... well, they're too numerous and too complicated to state. "Pyrene sent you, huh?" he asks, though it's more of a statement then a question. "I can imagine why, with that systematic-minded blue that you ride. I'm sure he knows every flight pattern in the book by heart." Motioning for her to grab a seat, he then asks, "How is Vorkoroth anyway? Strange that Zylpheth didn't mention to me that he'd seen him around..." Kh'ryn's features go blank for a few moments, as he converses with his own dragon, searching for answers. A slow grin breaks the sorrowful look on his face as he finds them. "Ah. I see. He wanted me to be 'surprised'." It obviously worked. "What's this I hear about a quarantine though? Neverheard anything 'bout that." And this isn't the sort of new that Zylph would have also kept from him either. Not something as important as that.
"Mmmhmm." confirms Wyn, busying herself with pouring a second little cup of saki and nudging it towards Kh'ryn. "I hate drinking alone... and that she did. V'der would have done just as well, but you know Pyrene and her thoughts on blueriders. Likely just wished to get me out of the Weyr and out of her hair for a time." is her snorted theory, before she lifts an eyebrow, surprised at her fellow bluerider's lack of information. "What? I should have thought it would be all over Pern by now. The Lost Wing from during the plague at High Reaches a quarter century ago has reappeared -now-. Lost -between- time, it seems. The quarantine is in case they brought the plague with them, which, I might add, is an exceedingly small likelihood." A nod towards her hides. "As I have researched. I'm planning to return directly, as soon as I finish chatting up the weyrhealer here." Possibly over breakfast... the exotic and self-contained weyrsecond from Somewhere Else hasn't exactly been lacking for companionship, and we both know Wyn's track record in matters of men.
Khory accepts the small cup easily enough, after pushing aside his own glass of tepid wine. The smile on his face remains as Wyn speaks of the blue-hating-goldrider from High Reaches, and it stays there right up until mention of the Lost Wing. Raising a brow, he takes a sip of the saki and then stares intently at the rest of it sloshing in its vessel. "Yes, I've heard about that, but I didn't pay much attention to it." It's like those old tales of Moreta - the stuff of legends. Not the kind of stuff that apathetic riders like himself cared to listen to. "I didn't know about the quarantine, however, I suppose it's a good idea... Certainly don't want anyone getting what those oldtimers might have brought with them..." The talk of plagues and sicknesses, however, reminds Khor too much about why he's out in this Faranth-forsaken oven of a place, and it's not a topic that he's happy to sustain. Draining the rest of his drink, he moves on. "I'm sure the weyrhealer here will be able to help you find .. what you're looking for. From what I've heard, he's a decent sort..." Though not Kh'ryn's type, that's for sure.
Wyn watches Kh'ryn's mood take a downturn in time to his words, a look of mild concern stealing onto her features as she reaches over to place a hand over top of the pitcher of saki. "Take it easy with that stuff, my friend," she urges. "Rivergrain wine extracts a bitter revenge." But after that, there's silence from Wyn for a few moments as she contacts Vorkoroth to get in touch with Zylpheth, seeking information about the formerly laughing blonde man's mental state. What she finds doesn't reassure her, and she murmurs quietly "How many turns has it been, now?" It's apparent what she's asking after.
Considering the river slop he'd been drinking since noon, the saki should have hit Kh'ryn as hard as Wyn predicted. However, the acids in his stomach - raised by unwelcomed thoughts - sloshed away the alcohol easily, leaving him with heartburn instead of any intoxication. And heartache. Lots of it. "Three and a half Turns," is his wan reply. "As of two nights hence." He could also calculate in smaller increments just how long it's been since the spark died in his eyes, but what good would it do? It certainly wouldn't help to bring Lark back.
Wyn doesn't offer any platitudes, 'nor any meaningless reassurances that the man needn't be grieving still. No, all the younger 'rider offers is a simple squeeze of his shoulder, a wordless 'I'm here' followed shortly after with confirmation in the form of a quiet "You know that being around friends can help make burdens easier to bear, don't you? High Reaches misses you... as do your children."
Those are all things that people have offered him before, and non of them had worked then, so of course they wouldn't work now. However, the fact that Wyn doesn't even make an attempt brings a thankful look to Kh'ryn's face. The talk of friends, however, elicits a different reaction. "I've got all the friends I need right here," he states, patting the nearly forgotten wineskin at his side. Still, the words are uttered more by rote then they are in any real defiance. AS for the matter of his children. "I'm sure they hardly remember me," is his response to that. "How can they miss what they can't recall?"
"Wherry droppings." is Wyn's rather tart rejoinder to that first coment, eyeing the wineskin with a quiet sniff. "I don't believe that any more than you do... not really, at least. You ought to be a great deal more drunk by this hour of the day, for one," is her medical opinion as she pours herself a second shot of saki. "And I know what it was like to grow up with an absentee father, Kh'ryn. M'ral's done his best to make amends in later years, but it's not the same..."
So Wyn saw through his facade.. Should have expected it though, considering that she was once a mind healer and all. They were trained to get past personal defences of that sort. "Well, they suit me well enough," Kh'ryn grumbles, concerning his lack of friends in Igen. Her stinging remark about absentee fathers receives another, similar grumble, this one followed by, "Knowing Kwa, I'm sure the twins have -all- the father figures they could need, whereas Khena certainly can play both parts well enough for Kieryn. As for Khallom, well... P'rru might be old, but he's still got enough spit in him to keep that toddler from straying..."
Wyn still is a Mindhealer in many ways, even if she lacks the completion of her formal training. People who wouldn't be caught dead seeing a 'real' one, are quite happy to pour out their troubles to another dragonrider, after all. "Nonsense. You only think they do." she promptly ripostes, before falling silent to look Kh'ryn over closely, gray eyes measuring. "Khallom hasn't classed as a toddler for some time now. And when word went out that I was Igen-bound, Kahran wished to know if I'd see you. Even if all you do is sit and drink, at least go see them for their sakes?"
"Kahran... Kahran asked about me?" he asks, almost shyly. Where once, Kh'ryn was nearly starved for information about his children, now he's afraid to ask about them, in case... In case they had forgotten him. So, perhaps a trip home is in order after all, if his fears have changed so over the Turns.
"Yes, he did." Wyn confirms with a quiet smile. "He's a fine little lad, Kh'ryn. You'd be proud of him if you could see him, I know it." Taking a slow sip of her saki, she cups the little laquered glass in the palm of her hand, a measuring movement to suit the continued steady gaze at the man. "While I may be planning to break quarantine very soon... you could break it just as easily, if you wanted to come home." she offers.
A little bit of the melancholy in Kh'ryn's demeanor disappears at this news concerning his son. "Yes, I'm sure I would be proud..." he comments more to himself than anything. Wyn's plan to break quarantine in order to return to Reaches makes him wonder if, just maybe, perhaps he should too. "I dunno, Wyn. If Pyrene was the one to have sanctioned this quarantine, I'm not so sure how happy she'd be to see me break it." He grins wrily. "Or to see me at all..." He -is- a bluerider, after all.
Wyn shrugs somewhat, not terribly moved by the potential wrath of Pyrene as she glances at her nails and opines that "Well, after spending a fortnight researching the plague of a quarter century ago, I've come to my own conclusions that the oldtimers are more at risk from the current sickness that's run through the dragons than we are from them. Better to have the quarantine down as quickly as possible..." And then she trails off to give a wink. "And anyways, I'll just hide you in my weyr. You can take the couch."
Seems that Wyn's more brave than Kh'ryn in that aspect - as Pyrene has always instilled ... well, perhaps not fear, but a healthy does of respect - in him. The female rider's theory about the oldtimers is hard to refute, however, so that 'respect' will probably be the only thing that Kh'ryn might be entreating were he to return to High Reaches before the quarantine was lifted. The offer of crashing on Wyn's couch - or Vorkoroth's, for that matter - gains another smile from the blond man. "Sure... And we could hide Zylpheth out in the Mountain pass until Py's fury died down..." But the more that he thinks about it, the more Khor warms to the idea of returning to the frozen Reachian peaks.
Wyns rush in where angels fear to tread? But Wyn has, after all, usually gone her own way, even if she also usually does so without any trumpeting about it. Toasting Kh'ryn with her saki glass she smiles and notes that "Either that, or just arrange that only one of our boys is seen out on the ledge at a time. A blue is a blue is a blue, don't you know. But whenever you decide to return, Kh'ryn, I for one will be glad to welcome you home." she assures, reaching over to pat his hand briefly before returning to her self-containment. Note the use of 'when' rather than 'if', children.
Khory may not have as much faith in himself as Wyn does, and he doesn't promise anything, however, he does toast the fellow bluerider right back. (Nevermind that it's an empty cup) "I suppose that between Vork's cunning and Zylph's willingness, we could make it work no matter what," he admonishes laughingly. "But enough of that. I must say, it's been a delight seeing you again Wyn. I shouldn't keep you much longer though, for you should probably go in search of that weyrhealer before it gets too late..." Leaning back in his chair, Kh'ryn then tosses a glance towards the group of riders still seated at the nearby table. "And I wouldn't want my chums here to think that I've suddenly turned soft on them overnight either..." Not that he truly cares -what- they think of him..
"Blues and their riders must stick together, after all." agrees Wyn solemnly, before she looks Kh'ryn over again, and nods a little to herself, apparently satisfied by the progress made. "Right. Well, I -will- see you around, Kh'ryn." she decrees, rising and taking her drink with her. "But take care." And with that, she leans down to give the man a peck on the cheek and a soft, Wynnish little smile, before wending her way back to her own table.
