Log Date:
	11/3/98, 11/5, 11/12

Log Cast:
	Rosa Scardino, Tance Vokrim

Log Intro:
	Tance Vokrim is back on Ballybran, and the medical personnel of the 
Heptite Guild are doing everything in their power to salvage the wreck the man 
has made of his mind and body this time -- including sending him out in
the care of CS Gyles Lee to let his symbiont recharge itself in the Ranges.
But it's become apparent that one trip really wasn't enough for him, 
especially after he tries to flee the planet and attacks a shuttle pilot when 
he is refused passage off Ballybran. Medical has recruited another Singer
to escort Tance back into the Ranges; this time, though, they've gotten
Rosa Scardino, who along with her ever-present Bear originally encouraged
Tance to propose to his beloved Kesya... and who is mightily dismayed by
Tance's condition, as she escorts him into the Ranges and begins to
discover exactly what has left him in this state...
	[Continued from file rosa-escort.txt.]

----------
Rosa's sled
Various lights around the sled illuminate the interior quite nicely. Pale 
  sea-foam gray walls have been stripped and washed, while the cleaning 
  solution used providing the inside compartments with a soft fresh scent of 
  flowers. Shining slightly, the previous layers of polish have been removed 
  from the floor, and a new coat evenly applied. Various pieces of equipment 
  show small touches here and there as well. The computer screens, though dark 
  at the moment, still manage to reflect the light. The large forward window 
  also sparkles, though a few small streaks across its surface can be noticed.
On the other hand, the personal area of the sled looks clean, but cluttered. 
  Items left behind by the Singer have been dutifully cleaned, and left in 
  neat piles on the counters and bed.
This is a 2 person capacity sled.  There is room in this sled for 8 cartons, 0 
  have been checked out.  One of the special new engines has been installed, 
  allowing for greater speeds.  The console is on.   The speaker is off.  The 
  auto-scanner is on.  A small metal plate is fastened to the upper left 
  corner, you can just make out "Bunny" scratched into the surface.
The weather is fine. A good day for flying.
  ( Type 'sled help' to see available commands. )
Contents:
Rosa

Rosa has arrived.
"Then you're in for a treat, Tance," Rosa says with a bright grin as she 
  bustles over to the little cooking unit. "D'you like your steaks done rare?"

"I... I dunno," is the reply. His voice is going up into that high register 
  again, bashful, uncertain.

"Well, why not just set the table," Rosa says, pushing a button which lets the 
  small dining table come down. She stacks up plates and cutlery, and then 
  begins coooking the actual meal. "I'll make 'em both mediums. Not too raw, 
  not overdone. And of course, there's plenty of Yaran to drink."

Tance starts a little as the table lowers itself into view, and then edges 
  towards it, studying the plates longly before cautiously putting each one 
  into place, and then reaching for the silverware. He stares at each piece 
  for several seconds, and at the sides of the plates, too; a fork is laid 
  down, then a knife beside it, and with profound uncertainty in his face, 
  Tance switches them a time or two, not at all sure of where the objects are 
  supposed to go. "I-I like Yarran..."

MUSH time:  Thu Nov  5 20:33:31 1998  Current time of day is:  evening
Next time of day change will occur in 3 hour(s), 26 minute(s) and 29 seconds
Note:  Game time is US Eastern

With a soft laugh, Rosa slips the two marinated steaks onto a mini grill. The 
  vegetables are already warming in something that looks like a microwave. "I 
  like Yarran too," she says, turning to smile at Tance. "It's sort of hard 
  not to, y'know? Actually, I don't think I know a soul in the Guild who does 
  /not/ like Yarran. Hey, d'you want some water too?"

"Uh... sure... " Tance mutters. At last, contenting himself with leaving a 
  suitable share of silverware beside each plate -- never mind that it's wound 
  up on the left of Rosa's and the right of his own -- the older Singer sinks 
  gingerly into a seat.

"Okay," Rosa says with a smile. "I'll get some water too. Hey, Tance, could 
  you do me another favor? Could you put Bear in his chair? He likes to be 
  present during meals, even if he does't eat." And yes, there does seem to be 
  a little chair near the dining area, just Bear's size.

His brown gaze flicks bemusedly from Rosa to her ever-present stuffed 
  companion... and then to the chair. Just enough of a glimmer of doubt shows 
  up in his face to suggest that he's not at all sure about _this_, either, 
  but Tance does get back to his feet, saying hesitantly, "Sure... um... I can 
  do that..."

Flipping the steaks over, Rosa gives a little smile. "Thanks," she says. "I 
  appreciate it. Bear doesn't like to be rude and ignore folks while they're 
  eating." Bear, of course, remains silent. Or so it seems.

Just as gingerly, Tance transfers Bear into the small chair, surreptitiously 
  peering at his young escort and trying to figure out why she's giving such 
  attention to a toy. But perhaps he's willing to humor her, for he gruffly 
  sets the chair's occupant neatly into place before creeping back to his own 
  seat.

"And here we are!" Rosa calls with a smile. The now-heated veggies are 
  transferred to the table, and both steaks are placed on the plates. Bringing 
  water bottles and more Yarran to the table, the little Singer slips to a 
  seat. She pats Bear's head and smiles. "Hope you're hungry, Tance. There's 
  plenty of food here."

Proferring a small lopsided smile, Tance says sheepishly, "It looks good..." 
  He sits up a bit, glancing briefly at the younger Singer before dropping his 
  gaze back to his plate and tentatively reaching for a fork.

Rosa dishes up a good-sized helping of the vegetables for herself before 
  picking up knife and fork. "Thanks," she says with a smile to Tance. "I like 
  cooking, even if it's out here in the Ranges. Got a special kitchen 
  installed in my suite back at the JPF, y'know."

Tance bobs his shaggy head, apparently somewhat at a loss for how to reply to 
  much of Rosa's bubbly chatter. "Sounds.... expensive," he mutters shyly, as 
  he inches his way into cutting up the food.

Rosa cuts herself a bite of the steak and pops it into her mouth. Giving a 
  happy smile at the taste, she washes the bite down with a swallow of Yarran. 
  "I guess maybe it is," she says with a shrug. "After a rather depressing 
  beginning - lost fingers, toes, eyes, crashed twice in a row - I've been 
  fairly lucky of late. Might as well spend the credits on something I enjoy. 
  Plus, it's fun giving the cookies away."

Tance listens to this, silent, chewing contemplatively on his steak. His 
  expression turns curious and startled for a few moments, as though the taste 
  has surprised him; perhaps the man is being constantly startled, over and 
  over again, by little things repeatedly encountered but which vanish into 
  the fog of what's left of his memory. He then bobs his head again, slowly, 
  but what he says is a gruff, "I... crashed a lot..."

Rosa makes a face as she chews her vegetables, though the expression has 
  little to do with the taste. "I had horrible luck at first," she says. "Got 
  so I was scared to go out alone." She shakes her head. "Still remember the 
  first time I found a good yellow claim - cut one crystal, hit a rock 
  intrusion, and lost an eye. Right before Passover. Of course the vein had 
  soured during the storms."

To that, Tance looks up wordlessly, involuntarily lifting a hand to one eye, 
  his fingers intertwining with his disheveled bangs.

"Yeah," Rosa says with a wry smile. "Like that. Shana bundled me off to 
  Shoralynn for a while, which was nice. She gave me Bear, then." The little 
  Singer gives the pink creature a fond look. "Oddly enough, my luck improved 
  after that."

[And soon....]

Smiling, Rosa dumps the dirty dishes into the bin. "I've got some cobbler 
  here for dessert, Tance," she says. "Would you like some? And a cup of 
  coffee, perhaps?"

The dinner had proceeded relatively smoothly; now, looking a little less 
  starved with his meal disposed of, Tance looks up from the seat he still 
  occupies by the table. "Cobbler?" he repeats, a slight furrow to his brow as 
  he ponders the idea. Then a spark of hopefulness lights his eyes, just a 
  bit, as he appends, "... peach?"

Reaching into the storage unit, Rosa turns to flash a smile. "Would I try to 
  serve you anything else?" she asks. "Of course it's peach." She pulls up the 
  tray of cobbler and sets it on the table. "Coffee'll be up in a bit. Feel 
  better after eating?"

A hesitant smile flickers across the older Singer's mouth for a moment, even 
  though it doesn't make it to his eyes, and his gaze drops shyly. "Yeah," he 
  answers, though his tone is odd, as if the concept that he should be feeling 
  improved of health is somehow wrong.

"I'm glad," Rosa says, sitting down as soon as two cups of coffee have been 
  heated. "It's always fun for me to cook for company. Do feel free to serve 
  yourself, Tance," she says. "There's plenty of cobbler."

"It looks pretty good," Tance offers humbly, looking up again. And there's a 
  brief flicker of a smile, once more, as he reaches for the fork and a saucer 
  onto which to pile an irregular slice of the cobbler. His eyes visibly 
  brighten at the sight of the peaches within the crust.

Rosa laughs softly. "It's great to see you smile, Tance," she says. "But 
  you've always been fond of peaches. Glad we decided to bring some of the 
  cobbler along." She serves herself as well, and takes a bite of the sweet 
  dessert.

The smile manages to hold more or less in place as Tance wolfs down bites of 
  peach and flaky crust; between swallows, though, he mumbles, "Remember 
  peaches pretty good, yeah..."

Rosa grins widely. "Who could forget 'em, Tance?" she says before taking a 
  drink of her coffee. "Hey, d'you want to try recording things that you 
  remember on my datapad? Maybe a little bit before bed?"

Tance looks up, fork halfway to his mouth, his features going still in an 
  expression of trepidation. He'd expressed willingness enough to try this 
  very action before, but now, presented with it, the flare of nervousness in 
  his dark eyes is undeniable.

Rosa takes another bite of her cobbler. After swallowing it, she smiles 
  reassuringly. "We could talk together on the tape," she suggests. "About 
  things. That way it wouldn't be quite so bad, would it?"

His appetite, Tance discovers, has suddenly fled. Setting down the fork, and 
  now staring in the direction of his dessert saucer for all that his gaze 
  seems to be actually looking entirely elsewhere, he rasps, "Y-yeah... I-I 
  guess so...."

Rosa watches Tance with some concern. "Well," she says, reaching over to pat 
  the older Singer's arm, "we can do it after dessert if you feel like it. Or 
  we could listen to Bear sing. He's learned some new songs from that rogue, 
  Neal. Scurrilous, they are."

Without looking up, Tance whispers uneasily, "Oughtta...do this, girlie..."

"Yes,' Rosa says softly, "I think you should. But I also think you should at 
  least try to be a little comfortable with yourself. Looking at you, I can 
  see that it's not easy for you. I'd like to do what I can to make it easier. 
  If you'd rather wait a bit, that's just fine."

The older Singer lifts a hand and shoves it through his shaggy grizzled hair, 
  and then brings it down to stare bemusedly at his own fingers, as if 
  uncertain he recognizes them; that unsureness, that dislocation, creeps 
  across his face again, along with a kind of shamed awareness. "Comfortable?" 
  he repeats gruffly. "With myself?"

"Yes," Rosa says quietly, "comfortable with yourself. You may not remember too 
  much right now, Tance, but you're a good man. You've been through an awful 
  lot. Of all the Singers I know, you deserve to be happy."

Rosa
With shining coppery curls, golden highlights glinting among them, and a 
  dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, red is one of the first 
  things one notices about this petite young woman. Standing barely 150cm, her 
  trim body seems to exude energy. Rosa's straight stance and direct look note 
  her self-confidence, and the occasional flash of her green-flecked amber 
  eyes gives a hint to her temper.
Rosa's long, coppery tresses are pulled back away from her face and into a 
  braid, which swings across her back as she walks. She is wearing a dark blue 
  jumpsuit, with paler blue threads worked through. On her left breast is 
  emblazoned the Heptite Guild dodecahedron. On Rosa's feet are sturdy, well 
  cared-for boots with reinforced soles, of the type Singers wear when in the 
  Ranges. Around Rosa's neck is a simple gold chain, suspended from which is a 
  delicately crafted pendant, fashioned in the shape of an eight-pointed star. 
  Set into the center of this is an emerald, its rich green highlighted as 
  light reflects from its facets. 
The slight twinkle in Rosa's eyes, and the hint of pink in her cheeks seems to 
  indicate that Rosa is in a good mood. 
  
That last word causes an obvious unsettling of Tance's already disturbed mood. 
  He sucks in an unsteady breath, before at last lifting a gaze gone even 
  darker to look across the table at the small Singer before him. It takes him 
  seconds more before he manages to croak, "Then... help me remember." His 
  brown eyes meet the younger Singer's amber ones, and stay there.

The little redheaded Singer's gaze doesn't waver. She regards Tance steadily, 
  her hand reaching out over the table, a gesture of comfort. "Tance," she 
  says quietly, "I'll do whatever is in my power to help you."

With another long drawn-in breath, Tance struggles to keep hold of his 
  composure, and he seems to succeed; perhaps, now that he is in the Ranges, 
  his resonance is being restored even though he has yet to go near any 
  crystal, at least on this trip. "Okay," he rasps shyly. He can't manage a 
  smile, but his gaze stays up, and he goes on, "So... how do we... start 
  this?"

The smile on Rosa's face is a warm one. She gives an approving nod. "Well,' 
  she says, "why don't I turn on the 'corder, and while we finish dessert, we 
  can talk over things. Stuff we both remember. If you like, I can ask 
  questions about things, or supply what I know."
 
"Yeah," mumbles Tance, flicking his gaze back down to the cobbler, and 
  tentatively picking up the fork still lying there. "Yeah... that's... a 
  start, I-I guess..."

Rosa slips a small data recorder out of a pocket and sets it on the table. 
  "So," she says, taking a sip of her coffee, "you like peaches, Tance. What 
  other things do you like?"

That quesetion makes him frown; perhaps he'd expected to be queried about 
  Kesya. His brow furrows anew, and it seems to take Tance a moment or two 
  before he adjusts to the new topic of conversation. "What... do you mean, 
  like... food?"

Rosa chuckles quietly. "Sure, food. Or music or entertainment. Or clothing, 
  for that matter. What sorts of things do you like, Tance?"

"I..." The older Singer frowns in bemused thought, before cupping his big 
  workworn hands around the cup of coffee before him. "I like... sailing."

"Sailing's fun," Rosa says with a smile. "What is it you enjoy about sailing? 
  Do you fish when you go out?"

Tance can be seen to blush, ever so slightly. "Don't remember," he admits 
  uncomfortably. "I just... like sailing..."

"It's okay if you don't remember," Rosa says with a smile. "Maybe when we get 
  back to the base, we could go out and take a sail at the White Sea facility 
  before Passover hits." She makes a face. "I hate Passover."

Tance visibly starts. "P-Passover?" he yelps.

Rosa gives a little smile. "Yeah, Passover. You remember Passover, Tance? 
  During the first one I experienced after adaptation, I'd just lost an eye. 
  Wandered around with an eyepatch. Looked like a miniature pirate."

It's obvious that Tance remembers _something_ about this particular notorious 
  time of the year on Ballybran; his face has gone pale, and he has that odd 
  distance in his eyes again, as he mumbles, "I gotta... go back... last 
  Passover, I-I was there last Passover..."

Rosa's brows knit in a frown. "Where were you last Passover, Tance?" she asks. 
  "Why is it you need to go back?"

"Verron IV," Tance answers immediately, though his voice has grown fainter, 
  creeping back up towards the high childlike register his words have 
  frequently occupied ever since the younger Singer had taken him from the 
  Infirmary in the JPF.

Rosa reaches out to touch Tance's arm, gently. "What do you remember about 
  Verron, Tance? Do you want to talk about it?"

His mouth works without sound for a few seconds, signs of obvious turmoil 
  apparent in his unevenly bearded visage. "L-lost Jade there," he at last 
  manages to force out in choked tones. The arm beneath Rosa's hand has gone 
  taut.

Rosa takes a deep breath, her eyes focusing on Tance's face. She nods, slowly, 
  her hand stroking his arm comfortingly. "Do you remember what happened?""

"F... f... fell," the older Singer croaks, his gaze still directed off into 
  space, his expression growing anguished. "She... fell."

"Fell?" Rosa repeats quietly. "Were you climbing something? And Kesya fell 
  too? What happened, Tance?"

Tance can be seen to nod, slowly, shakily. "Climbing," he agrees in hoarse 
  tones. "M-mountain. U-up a... mountain." Each syllable he utters seems to 
  tax him more than the last; his rigid arm begins to quiver under the young 
  woman's touch. "She... f... fell."

"Oh, shards," Rosa whispers softly, "oh, Tance, I'm so sorry." Tears come to 
  the little Singer's eyes and her hand grips that quivering arm. "That's 
  where you lost her?"

Brown eyes turned liquid, Tance mumbles thickly, "Th-think so... all I 
  remember..."

Standing, Rosa moves around the table to slip one arm around Tance's 
  shoulders. "Were you badly hurt in the fall?" she asks softly. "Tance, I'm 
  so very sorry that it happened."

His shoulders, too, are shaking, and his eyes drop closed. "Don't... 
  r-remember nothin' else," he mutters. "Don't remember."

"That's all right, Tance," Rosa says, holding the older Singer and rocking 
  him. "That's all right. You don't have to remember anything more right now. 
  I had no idea that's what had happened. No wonder you're so devastated." She 
  sighs quietly. "Just let it all out, Tance."

Tance turns where he sits, instinctively, into the comforting embrace. His 
  whole frame is shaking now, and he mumbles brokenly, "M-my fault... I-I-I 
  tried to hang on, I tried... all my fault..."

Rosa holds on tightly, attempting to rock Tance, to provide some degree of 
  comfort. "Tance, you've done a lot of climing," 'she says softly, "and so 
  has Kesya. So have I. Sometimes you fall. It happens, no matter how you try 
  to prevent it. You cannot blame yourself for not being able to hang on. I 
  know you, and I know how much Kesya means to you. You'd do whatever was in 
  your power to save her. It is not your fault."

"I... c-can't... can't remember where the mountain is," Tance confesses, his 
  voice once more turned into that childlike warble as he huddles awkwardly in 
  his companion's arms. "C-can't remember h-how to find her..."

"Maybe," Rosa suggests, "I can help you. Do you remember what the mountain 
  looks like? Could you maybe draw it?"

Tance groans, "R-rocks, it... it was... a-a-a mountain!" This last word comes 
  out of him in a plaintive, frustrated wail. Or at least it'd be a wail, if 
  it were louder than a shaken whisper.

"Was it a hard climb?" Rosa asks. "Cliffs?" She pauses to rock Tance, 
  smoothing his hair back. "We'll see what we can do about finding the 
  mountain when we get back to the base, okay?"

"Yeah... yeah... long climb, a-a-a cliff...." Tance gulps in a few breaths; 
  his voice has roughened, with a possible threat of tears.

"Shh," Rosa murmurs softly, "shh. It's all right now, Tance. Did the ledge 
  give way? That's happened to me before. But don't worry about it. You're 
  safe now. You're going ot be okay."

Tance croaks a single word into Rosa's shoulder: "Rockslide..."

Rosa sniffles, surrepetitiously wiping at her face. "Tance," she whispers, 
  "there's nothing you can do against a rockslide. They're brutally dangerous. 
  I'm so sorry."

Reflexively, Tance clings to the little Singer now, apparently desperate for 
  the consolation she's offering him. "H-help me remember," he pleads. "Don't 
  let me forget, girlie... don't let me forget..."

Holding the older Singer tightly, Rosa brushes his hair back. "I'll do 
  anything I can to help," she murmurs softly. "I won't let you forget, Tance, 
  I promise you. I won't let you forget." Sniffling a little herself, she 
  manages a smile. "You're going to be okay. We'll make sure of it."

The barest of nods... and Tance's frame relaxes, just fractionally, but it's a 
  relaxation nevertheless. "'Kay," he mumbles.

"Good," Rosa says softly, with a smile. "Hey, Tance, it's a little late. What 
  say we both hit the sack? Then, tomorrow, we can go take a look at the 
  yellow."

"Sl-sleep?" he mumbles tinily, his head starting to lift off the younger 
  Singer's breast.

Rosa gives a little laugh. "Yes," she repeats, "sleep. It's evening, now, and 
  we'd best be well rested for tomorrow. If you like, Bear will sleep with 
  you."

Tance looks up, then, his expression unguarded and gone just as childlike as 
  his voice has done, never mind his weathered and whiskered features. "Um," 
  is, however, his only reaction to the reminder of the stuffed animal's 
  presence.

Rosa grins. "He doesn't snore, you know, and he can sometimes be rather 
  comforting. Gives good hugs, you know." She winks. "But I'll keep him over 
  in my bed if you prefer." She gestures to the rear of the sled where the two 
  bunks are strapped up.

Tance starts blushing again, no longer looking quite at his young escort, 
  pulling back from her now; in embarrassment, perhaps? "I-I-I'll leave it up 
  to you," he mumbles. "And, uh..." And he bobs his grizzled head at the 
  little bear.

Rosa winks playfully. "I'm fine either way," she says, slowly standing up and 
  moving toward the rear of the sled. "I'll leave you and Bear to sort it out, 
  man to man."

Now distinctly unsettled as the younger Singer once more reminds him that for 
  all her comfort and consolation, she apparently has regular conversations 
  with an inanimate object, Tance shoots her a nervous glance. And then he 
  shoots Bear one for good measure, before awkwardly rising to his feet, 
  coffee and the remnants of peach cobbler on the table forgotten... but only 
  momentarily. "Um... the, um..." And he gestures awkwardly at the leftover 
  dessert.

It doesn't take Rosa long to turn down the beds and fluff the pillows. She 
  returns, giving Bear a pat on the head. "The dishes?" she asks Tance, 
  looking to him. "Yeah, best take care of that. We can have more cobbler 
  tomorrow." She sets the serving plate back into storage and puts the dishes 
  in the bin. "There we go. Bear says he'd rather guard the sled tonight, from 
  here, if it's all right with you."

Is that relief on the older Singer's face? Perhaps. He only nods, however, 
  still gripped with shyness and chagrin. Something seems to give him pause, 
  his brow crinkling yet again. But all he says is a gruff, "Wh-which bed ya 
  want me to sl-sleep in, girlie...?"

"Why don't you take the one on the right, Tance?" Rosa asks as she walks to 
  the other and sits on it, kicking off her boots. "There're plenty of covers 
  and it's as comfortable as sled sleeping can get." She stifles a yawn as she 
  sets a sleep alarm. "It's late. Be good to get some rest."

Tentatively, the older Singer inches towards the other bunk, flicking his 
  companion a nervous glance yet again and seeming even more uninclined to 
  look directly at her; that's unmistakable relief, however, when all that 
  Rosa does by way of undressing is the removal of those boots. Slowly and 
  stiffly he lowers himself down onto the other bunk, following her example; 
  his own battered, ancient boots soon join hers on the sled deck, before he 
  burrows warily beneath the blankets his companion has provided him. 
  Throughout all of this he is silent, until he is settled down into place, 
  huddled there with barely more of him visible than gray-streaked brown locks 
  of hair and a single dark eye. "G-girlie?"

Meanwhile, Rosa has curled up under the covers, pulling them up after she's 
  unbraided her long hair, seemingly quite at ease with the situation. About 
  to lay her head down on the pillow, she turns toward the other bed, and 
  Tance, as he speaks. "Yes? What is it?"

"... thanks," comes a barely audible mumble from the nest into which Tance has 
  crawled.

Rosa's face lights up, her smile beaming as she lays back and pulls the covers 
  up. "You're welcome, Tance," she calls softly. "Pleasant dreams."

[To be continued...]