K'ane, Prymelia, NPCs Jeriko and Jinx.


Prymelia pulls playroom duty and discovers there’s more to K’ane than just disused dress boots.


It is midmorning of the tenth day of the first month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Southern Weyr, Playroom

OOC Date


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An open room, the walls coated in fainted colors of whimsy. It's creepier than the others… maybe due to forgotten children's toys that remain half-seen: the side of a doll's face, worn building-blocks scattered.

It's not a surprise, K'ane being in the playroom — he has kids here, after all. Therefore, the big man, sitting in the middle of everything, two four-year-olds shrieking and running around him: the boy is a dead-ringer for his father, except with a bit of a sweeter, leaner cast no doubt from his mother. And then he dumps a whole container of dry macaroni over his dad's head. The girl screams with laughter and runs, chubby-legged, back towards the nanny looking on with tolerance for the scene. K'ane himself just laughs, picks dry pasta out of his hair, and reaches out to tickle Jeriko with deft fingers, his grin open and frankly delighted.

Trying to herd Prymelia, who got lumped with playroom duty, into a room full of screeching rugrats is like trying to stuff a cat into a box for a visit to the vet. Heels dug IN! Yes, yes, she knows aaaall about snotty nosed little brats, she helped raise her younger siblings after all. Doesn’t mean she’s any less wary about the sharp-toothed, pinching little mongrels. “I don’t see why I can’t just peel tubers.” She can probably be heard huffing at the matronly woman nudge-nudging her deeper into ‘OMG-they’re-gonna-eat-me’ territory. And then she spots K’ane and his brood. CRAP!

HEELS DUG IN — K'ane's heels would do better digging if his dress boots weren't missing. (Even though he never WEARS them.) Anyhow, he snatches up his wheezing-from-laughter kid and tosses him over a shoulder, making for the door like he's some wildling. "I'm gonna take you an' make you work in the kitchens with Ardstelle!" he proclaims in a rough and exaggeratedly gravelly voice; Jeriko's WAILS can be heard, 'no no not her not the BUTTER LADY!!!!!'. His grin is lopsided and then he sees Prym and stops. "Or maybe," sotto-voiced whisper, "I'll make you work with someone WORSE." His grin turns a bit SHARPER.

Those dress boots are going to be WORN! Somehow. Prymelia will figure a way to make that happen. Probably by nicking all the others so that he has no choice. Moving on. Yes! The kitchens. Butter Lady. FABULOUS idea! Blam! One big bronzerider all up in her space with a wriggling mini-K’ane tossed over his shoulder. The now-candidate freezes. Eyes the kid, eyes the sire and eyes the kid again. Finally at the appearance of that smile coming from K’ane she plucks a mask out of her vast supply of facial expressions and plops syrupy sweet into place. “Or the best depending on which angle you’re looking at it from.” And with that she ducks her head and peers around his back to get a closer look at the kid the smile Jeriko is given, tentative but genuine.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" That's Jeriko. "NO DADDY!" If she was wondering, there's that confirmation. K'ane, lopsided, holds said child up by his heels — which causes a diffuse and abrupt flurry of giggles from the boy, upside-down as he is, shirt falling around his pudgy, flailing arms. "Say hi to Miss Prymelia," he intones to Jeriko; the kid, red-faced, mumbles something at Prym that comes out sounding like 'please don't eat me'. K'ane wiggles those ankles out towards Prym. "Y'want him? He's yours for the low, low price of two marks." That sets forth MORE flailing from Jer, who does NOT like this idea. STRANGER DANGER.

Okay. It's a little hard to remain wary in the face of Big Softie K'ane, even if he is trying to sell her his kid. "Two marks, huh? Mmmm. I don't know. He looks a bit skinny. Maybe you should get Ardstelle to fatten him up a bit first." Real amusement threatens. And while she absolutely does NOT take a hold of the upside-down-Jeriko, she does crouch down and lift the lad's shirt up from his face. "Bubbly pies." She tells the red-faced child in a conspiratorial tone. "I know where Ardstelle hides them." Standing once again, K'ane is given an innocent smile. "So, that's Aikari, this little guy and…" glancing about the area she spots the little girl, "that one too? Tsk. You weren't kidding when you said you had problems with uh…" Rapidly she searches for a code word, "stray felines in your weyr." Wicked the glint to hazel eyes, quickly tucked away again.

K'ane does NOT comment about the kid at Igen, or the one left back oldtime. That'd be telling. He rights Jeriko, though, when the boy's noises take on a different pitch. "Y'okay, buddy?" he casually asks as he dusts the kid's shoulders off and indulgently smirks as Jeriko all but gives him the BIRD to crowd up next to Prymelia. "Bubblies? Where! I don't BELIEVE you." And there is a little mini-K'ane-scowl of suspicion angled upwards. K'ane is having a hard time not laughing. "Kids are th' best part of that," he returns to Prym, his smile surprisingly light. But he can't help the smirk: "An' that's sayin' something, ain't it?" Jeriko is still staring stubbornly up at Prym, as if somehow the girl could just MANIFEST a bubbly pie right in front of him. Like MAGIC.

Watchful eyes take in the way the big bronzer interacts with his offspring and then Prymelia tenses when the child all but barnacles to her legs. PANIC flares briefly and her mask slips – Help!? But then, glancing down she catches that expression and she has a hard time suppressing the snicker that rises up. “Oh he’s yours alright!” As if K’ane were in any doubt. And just as she’d done with his father before, she touches the pad of her index finger to the center of Jeriko’s scowl. “You keep that up when the wind changes direction you’ll be stuck like that for life.” Scandalous the lie followed by a smile. “Well see that’s where you have to brave. And super sneaky. They’re in the kitchens but first you have to get passed Ardstelle first and her wooden spoon.” She tells the child making it sound like a terribly grand adventure. To K’ane goes a dubious look for his assertion. “Seriously? You must be doing it wrong!” Kids better than the act of procreation? K’ane has clearly been smoking his socks!!

"Mama says my face will freeze like that when we go ::between::," the child rattles off with the rote response of a kid who has heard the phrase one time too many. "Issa wind like ::between::?" His voice is super curious. K'ane swoops in to save the candidate, picking up Jeriko again. "No tryin' to bother The Butter Lady," he scolds his son, turning him towards the nanny and shoo'ing him off, watching him run terrorizingly fast towards his sister with a smirk. "Yeah. Definitely mine. Got his mama's looks, thankfully." Not a hint of sarcasm there, but genuine relief. K'ane — blinder'n a bat, maybe. He squints over at Prym and just grins: "You'll understand when y'have a couple of your own," he placidly states in the manner of content parents everywhere. (They are so self-righteous and faux-omniscient, aren't they?) "I ain't ever left anyone wrong," with a lewder twist to his grin, "But kids. They're… different. They mean somethin'."

Having no idea who the child’s mother might be, his remark draws a laugh from Prymelia. “Your mama sounds like a wise woman.” The question though. That one has her flicking a cautious look K’ane’s way. How to answer that one? Saved from doing so when Jeriko is shoo’ed away. “Aw, c’mon. What childhood is complete without learning how to lift bubbly pies?” That to his father. And there she was just about to have some fun. Snort!! Heavily dubious the look tossed next to the bronzerider though whether that’s on the matter of looks or having children of her own is left unclear. Loooong she studies that strong face, gears in her head clearly turning and then quietly spoken. “How they came to be should mean something too.” A quick covering smile and Prymelia follows the antics of a little girl that has gotten into the dress-up box and is parading about in an enormous hat dragging a feather boa behind her. “Children are…” her voice trails, sentence left unfinished.

"He can figure that out on his own. He'n his sister don't need any helpers for trouble, trust me," K'ane half-grumbles, rubbing a hand over his lower jaw to hide his smile. "Jedi," he supplies, momentarily; "Their mama. Jeriko and Jinx." His fond eyes track the way the twins move to the corner and start scheming between them; the better to NOT see the gears turning over Prym's head. "Eh?" That's what she says, and he bats it off dismissively. "Sex is great. Natural. Fun. But people fail when they try t'make it more than it is." His voice is matter-of-fact, the clear call of an eternal bachelor. If he had a cellphone, half the people in it would have that Casual Sex song as their ringtone. "Children?" he prompts her second comment, his gaze flickering over to her briefly, quizzically.

Oh K’ane. That sounds like a dare. See the way Prymelia’s eyes light up? Yup. Helper for trouble reporting for duty! “Jedi?” A name she knows, shown in the warm smile that appears. “I didn’t realize that you and she…” And then K’ane gets going about No Strings Sex bit and will find himself rewarded with a laugh. “As I would have expected. You know, you can’t put cream in a saucer and not expect to find yourself saddled,” ahem, “with stray felines. Unless of course your aim is to populate Pern. Then of course every set of aching ovaries is going to be after a big brute like you.” Amused. But then he’s prompting on her half-finished statement and Prymelia waves it off with an airy, “Nothing. I don’t plan on ever having any so it doesn’t matter.”

Oh Faranth. That's the LAST thing K'ane needs. Another redhead acting as a horrible influence to his children. "Eh, it was a long time ago. Nothin' serious. I didn't even know she'd had 'em until after they were born." His voice shades just a little bitter, but it's an old bitterness. "We get along great, nowadays. She's a great lady." A soft half-smile. He snorts at her line about cream and felines, shaking his head and shifting a wry look over to Prym. "Saddled. Good one." Cue a snort. "I'd rather not be repopulatin' everything. Sounds tiring." But there's a twist of his lips. Amusement. Mirth. Which turns into puzzlement at Prymelia's last. "No kids? Really." There is an unvoiced question in those three words, the slant of cornflower-blue eyes.

Possibly Prymelia should let that bitter edge be her warning and back away from the topic, but: “You didn’t know?” Yeah, that sucks, dude. Or so says the small smile she lends K’ane followed by a nod and a fuller version for the additions he makes. Hazel eyes then roll and she’ll swat at his shoulder before moving around him to begin picking up the dried noodles his son had dumped over his head. “You make it sound like you have to bear them and get cankles and fat and gross. You get the easy part.” Matter of fact – Men have it easy. Pausing in her self-appointed task, hand cupped about the noodles collected thus far. “What? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I want to breed like a firelizard. I have plans. Places to go, people to see. Children will just slow me down.” There have that as an explanation. One given with attention firmly set to task. Eyes down, face averted.

"Nope. Didn't know about Aikari, either." Old wound, that. But he does well to brusquely cover it with a quick, almost-bratty smile for her whap. "Feh. Pregnant women are beautiful." Cankles and fat and all. This, combined with the rest of him, MAY make K'ane the strangest, strangest man ever to walk upon Pern. Which is saying something, because many a moons prior there was this man named Fyren at Ista Hold… "Children don't slow anyone down," he practically replies. "That's what nannies are for. Besides, after y'Impress," man he just breezes through that as if it's Decided and a True Fact, "You'll have nothin' slowing you down." Except for maybe thread. But he doesn't voice that, stacking macaroni until one of his broad hands, cupped, is filled. "Oh, Jeriko." That is more normative, a darkly amused tilt for all this child-born chaos.

THAT earns K’ane a dirty look followed by a little smirk and Prymelia holds up a finger. The middle one. “How many fingers do you see? Because I think you might need to get your eyes checked.” Completely unbelieving that he might find pregnant women alluring. “Either that, or you’ve got some weird fetish going there bronzerider.” More noodles scooped and tossed into a toy bucket surprise flaring briefly when he gets down on the floor and helps. “No. See that’s where you’re wrong! I will not have my children raised by a nanny. If I’m going to suffer through nine months of hell,” who has she been talking to!? “And then put my life on the line to squeeze the little bugger’s fat head out, then I’m the one that will be taking care of it. Not some overworked nanny who probably already has more sprogs to deal with than she can handle.” So apparently she does have a stance on children. “And if I did impress.” Heavily dubious there. “The only way these caverns would see them would be during the day. They stay with me. End of story.” Thick silence with a frown twisting elegant brows together and then quietly sighed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.” She even manages a small smile for the fond edge to his voice when he speaks his son’s name.

"Not like that," K'ane retorts to her middle-finger'd comment. Then a pause, he tilts his head to a side and goes, "Okay, maybe I'd hit some of th' pregnant women I've seen. But not all of 'em, and not 'cause they are pregnant." He's trying to save face here. He does pause at her rant, leaning back in his crouch to regard her with something very much like a smile fighting to stay off his face. "S'how it was with Aikari," he comments. "She was a good kid, but with Lendai fightin' me every step of the way…" his voice trails off, jaw clenches, and he looks to the side. "They made me wingleader an' I had to step away from it. Raising her. She's old enough t' be on her own anyhow," why does that sound like K'ane is trying to sell that to himself more than Prym? Then he's got all eyes for the candidate, THOUGHTFUL. "Trader-born, eh?" Casual, his dumping of the macaroni back into the somewhat-empty bin, starting afresh with a new picked-up handful: "What's your family think 'bout you bein' Searched? Are they up North?"

And up arches a brow, pretty lips all smugly patterned about a smirk as K’ane tries to back peddle his way into Saving Faceville. Gotcha! “You’re weird.” Statement ruined when he actually gets serious about Aikari. Prymelia continues to round up noodles-on-the-loose slipping him a sidelong look from under lowered lashes. “You raised herself in the beginning? Like…properly?” Her view on ‘properly’ raising a child already clearly made as is her aproval. Compassion is allowed a brief bit of airtime. “That must have been hard.” Sincere. “Having to give up her care like that.” Tipping her noodle contribution into the bin she utters a snort, mouth twisting about a slightly bitter line. “I would suspect if they knew, they wouldn’t much care. I am, persona non grata to them.” And then a nod. “Aye, back in Igen.”

"'Course I'm weird. Being normal is overrated." K'ane, with a shake of his head. "She lived with me, aye. Once I knew she was alive," wry twist. "In m'weyr. I'd make headway on proper discipline an' then Lendai would be there spoilin' her and telling her she was more special'n everyone else." His voice, exasperated. "Settin' her up for failure is all that does." Mutter. Old argument. He has a rare smile for Prymelia's compassion, followed by a gruff rise to his feet, last bit of macaroni put back in the canister. He waves off the entire conversation of his children, better to focus on her last comment. "Huh. Wouldn't've expected that," he muses aloud. "You seem like you'd be a — family girl." He gestures, calloused fingers drifting in an abstract way. "Daddy's girl."

K’ane’s first earns him a laugh and an amused shake of head. “On that we can agree. Weird works. Normal is boring.” Prying the pieces of a crushed noodle from out of the carpet, Prymelia pauses and sifts another look sideways to him. “And there is why I feel sorry for your lot.” Dragonriders. “A flight is the worst possible way to have a child.” Her thought from the other day finally delivered. Dusting her hands, the toy bucket is placed back on the shelf containing arts and crafts items. When she turns around again, lightly freckled features are arranged about a brittle smile. She leaves off the bit about whether or not she’d been a family girl and delivers a sarcastic: “More like Daddy’s cash cow.”

There is a strange, strange smile on K'ane's face. An irony that requires knowledge that Prymelia doesn't have — yet: "At least your father acknowledged y' were his own," his voice, gentle. "Or so I assume." Takes K'ane-the-bastard to a WHOLE NEW LEVEL, right? God when did he get so freaking mushy. HE seems to come to that conclusion and shakes his head. "Anyhow. Enough fuckin' sad shit. Go get baby-puke in your hair and spit-wet hands all over your clothes and somethin' shrill ringin' in your ear an'…" All that jazz. He gestures, eyes her once, snorts something to himself and turns for the exit. "Don't get m'kids in trouble, Prymelia!" he booms before moving off towards the door proper.

She may not be in possession of all the facts but that remark of K’ane’s speaks volumes on its own and earns him a long look, broken when he neatly puts the topic away. A quick smile is fashioned, silent agreement to move away from quicksand territory. “If your kids puke on me, know that somewhere, somehow, the favor will be returned.” Be afraid, K’ane. Be very afraid. As to getting his kids into trouble? Just GUESS which pair Prymelia will spend the morning with teaching them all kinds of required skills such as how to slip a soggy biscuit into someone’s pocket. Or the best place to stick your brother’s booger – Hint: Not his ear. Sorry, Jedi. Blame K’ane.

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