Living Cavern -- Starmount(#38RDJLM)
A huge, vaulted dome of rock arches overhead, pocked in places with outcroppings and little holes where firelizards are constantly squabbling and eating various things. The floor of the cavern has been smoothed out by years of feet walking over it, polished to a shine except for the scuffs of table legs. The rough wooden tables are scattered around the room, chairs distributed almost as randomly. Dishes cover the tables, filled with all kinds of foods kept ready for hungry riders and weyrfolk, with firelizards swooping and playing amoung them, grabbing snacks as they will.
 A wide tunnel to the east leads out to the bowl, while several much smaller tunnels lead off in various directions. One dark tunnel, sloping downward, leads to the lower cavern complex for residents. Another, judging from the delicious smells coming from it, can only lead to the kitchen. The last, a steeply upward-sloping tunnel, bears a small iconograph beside it denoting the record hall.

You see:
 C'drel, standing near the door.

With stew in hand and mug of klah, C'drel seats himself at a table near to the hearthside, casting occasional glances towards the bowl. "Mm? Well, it doesn't mean you /do/ have to watch now-- it's a little disconcerting, Mat." Fork hovers in air as hunger wars with discomfort.

Puokano, actually awake despite the early hour, staggers in from the lower caverns with bleary eyes. He muffles a yawn behind an upraised hand before peering warily at the other occupants of the Living Cavern: specifically, C'drel. And then he moves towards the sideboards.

Hunger wins, and fork descends, C'drel at first oblivious to Puokano's arrival. "Cooked," he offers, out of the blue. "With other things -- no, no. Not tubers." Between mouthfuls, bronzerider glances around and catches sight of Puokano, swallowing hastily and offering, "Mind the tubers. They're spiced tonight."

"Yeah, yeah." Puokano waves that off and throws a shrug. He doesn't, however, heap the crisped tubers onto his plate as usual; a few are taken, although the main fare concentrates on other foodstuffs: fish, rolls, greens. A well-rounded meal, for once.

C'drel apparently decides to throw any sort of diplomacy -- or any pretense to it -- out the window, and enquires of Puokano, "So, I heard you had a run in with K'iss." Well, at least he manages not to sound pleased about it or anything; no doubt he finds the whole thing absent-amusing. Another, flickered glance to the bowl, and meal is resumed, "Yes, yes, I'm eating. I'm not as quick as you."

"Maybe." Puokano is hardly in a mood to discuss relations with crazy greenriders. "Which one's that? Everyone in this weyr doing their best to break my nose," he grumbles, the last phrase more to himself than to C'drel. A mug of klah is poured, and Puo retires to a table - one other than C'drel's.

C'drel seems quite oblivious of Puokano's reticence on the subject. "Are they?" He asks, mildly surprised, "I don't think /I've/ tried to -- yet. But I suppose I could oblige if you're going for the record of seeing how many people you can get to hurt you." Wow, isn't that like.. masochism? Not that Cam'd know anything about that.. "And why're /you/ in such a rush, Mat? It's not like you can't very well watch from the sands. I'm eating as fast as I can!"

<*Matrith*> Privately, Matrith's mindtones, perhaps recognizable, but maybe not, are suddenly there. If briefly. Watching, amused, and retreating. So quick that one could well doubt it even happened.

Puokano favors C'drel with a dark scowl. "I'll pass," he mutters, fork stabbing at one of those ultra-spicy tubers. In it goes -- the whole thing --, and before long Puo's practically choking; he grabs for the klah to wash away the flavor. "Hot!" he gasps. And, in the confusion, it's likely to miss the uneasy look that flickers across the youth's expression.

Ramaki walks through the door from the bowl.
Ramaki has arrived.

"Just trying to be helpful," C'drel offers with half-grin, adding none too helpfully, "I did warn you about the tubers, y'know." It's not really like Cam to make such observations, but he's a little distracted, perhaps. "And as for you, Mat, well, if you've got something to tell me, why don't you do it now?" A pause, an expression of mild shock, and darted glance to Puokano that might or might not be missed in the whole choking-coughing thing.

"Right." Puokano trusts C'drel just about as much as he trusts a tunnelsnake. Or less. "The tubers are /fine./" They just make one choke. That's all. He turns his back on the bronzerider upon sight of Ramaki, watering eyes hastily wiped with the back of his hand. "Maki, dear! I was just bringing you your meal!" His smile's one of utter sweetness. "You've just got to try these tubers. They're wonderful."

With a frozen look to her bare head, Ramaki shuffles in from outside, stamping heavy boots for a moment before staring in shock at her fosterbrother. "Puokano, I think that some of the other Candidates would kill you if you even walked past the barracks. And I ate.. earlier." Gloves are pulled off and she runs a hand through her hair, knocking free a shower of snow before striding towards a random steaming pitcher. "Besides that, it's started snowing again.."

C'drel begins setting his fork down, very slowly. "Are they, then?" Definitely distracted, or he'd probably see about saying something more. Rising, bronzerider nods absently in greeting to Ramaki before disappearing out the door without a word. Muffled noises -- amongst them raised voice, and louder rumble, and a brief yell can be heard from without for several moments, then silence.

"Why would they ever want to do that?" Puokano inquires, puzzled. "I don't even know those Candidates." He smirks a little. "Candidate. Hah. Maybe I should be having /you/ get my meal for me." He releases a pitying sigh. "Poor girl. You're starting to be just as crazy as the rest of them, you know. One day you're wishing for warmth, and the next you're all excited about something as awful as /snow./ What'd your mother think?"

"I was warning you that it's snowing again, in case you, deciding that you love me or something, still tried to go out and bring dinner to me." Ramaki shakes her hair out again, the mass of it glistening damply now -- melted snow, joy. "And I didn't have too much choice. A dragon dumped snow all over me. Hopefully, one will do the same to you -- I'm sure you'd enjoy it immensely."

C'drel re-appears in the doorway, covered in snow. Much more than he should be, considering he was outside for only a minute or two. And snow usually doesn't stick to one's front or back unless one happens to be prone. Scowling -- apparently Matrith won the argument, although Cam would have it the bronze cheated -- he strides over towards Puokano and Ramaki, trailing snow.

Puokano rolls his eyes. "About as much as I enjoy hearing you speak." A little laugh broaches lips, however, and he adds, "Enjoy your /Candidacy./ Me, I'm sure I'll be headed back to Boll soon. Boll's warm. And there aren't any dragons." Puo splits a roll in half and promptly begins to munch.

A hand waves towards her fosterbrother with a gesture that could be construed as obscene, and Ramaki falls into a chair, splashing steaming generic liquid into a mug and adding a dash of cream. "If you leave, I will rejoice." As will many other people, likely. Eyes move to track the snow-trailing C'drel, head tilting slightly with curiousity: Okaaaay.

C'drel squints briefly at Ramaki's knot as he catches Puokano's words, looking surprised. "You were Searched? My -- /our/, yes, no need to interrupt -- congratulations." Throat is cleared, and he peers about the caverns, although it's largely deserted, apparently much to his consternation. "So. Matrith seems to think there's someone in here who's to be a candidate -- yes, yes, I'm /bringing/ them already -- and I guess everyone should step outside who's of age." Snow drops off his jacket as he makes this pronoucement.

Puokano remains seated right where he is, smirking about at others who mill about the caverns. "Poor people," he mutters with sympathy. "Subjected to that Faranth-shardin' awful Candidacy. Maybe if they're lucky they won't get stuck with a dragon." Attention slides back to Ramaki, and he sarcastically replies, "Don't be /too/ happy."

Holding her mug of liquid in one hand, Ramaki rises from her chair and grabs for Puokano's arm: "He asked you to come out, and he's attached to a rather large dragon -- I wouldn't argue with him. Come /on/, Puokano." An evil look floats on her face as she glares at him, eyes narrowing. You can come too, dear 'brother.

C'drel's distracted enough by ushering people outside that he only catches the end of Puokano's comment, "You too, I suppose," Cam adds, a little reluctantly, before answering Ramaki wryly, "I like to think he's more attached to me but, well.. that works." Actually, Ramaki's probably got the right of it, considering the walking snow man he makes.

"But I'm not going!" Puokano protests, fork clattering down upon his plate as Ramaki catches him off-balance. "I'm not going to get stuck with some ugly dragon and only weyrpeople are ever asked to be Candidates. Unless you're specially challenged, like you." He steadies himself and rises, haughtily attempting to shake off Ramaki's arm. "That's okay," he replies airily to C'drel. "I'll just stay here."

Smiling far too sweetly -- Did she learn an expression from him? --, Ramaki locks her arm tighter around Puokano's, sashaying slightly as she leads him towards the exit. "Come on, Puokano. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about -- you aren't afraid of something, are you? That a snow beast might eat you?" Remember those tales Nanny used to tell you?

"I'm afraid Matrith's insistant," C'drel almost sounds apologetic. Almost. "Very insistant," he adds with a darted look to the exit.

Puokano's expressions can be useful at times, it seems. "I'm not afraid of anything," he informs her coolly as he's dragged along reluctantly. "Least of all some big, nasty, snow-covered dragon." Er. Does he contradict himself a bit? "There isn't such things as snow beasts, either," he says loftily. "You're letting all that snow get to your head."

Ramaki just smiles again, saccharine glow increasing as they approach the exit of the caverns. "I'm sure, then, that you won't mind going outside. It probably won't be for too long -- oh, you did grab your jacket, right? It's coming down a bit harder, it seems.." Maybe she'll loan Puokano a hat or something.

C'drel makes another quick sweep of the caverns, hurried by a faint rumbling outside. "Yes, yes, they're coming. They're coming," he's muttering beneath his breath as he scurries outside.

West Bowl -- Starmount(#46RLM)
Nestled in a curve of the Bowl's sides, this wide field is a usual sunning spot for dragons. At any one time up to several dozen may be found here, if it's a very sunny, warm day -- mountains of lavishly oiled hide and wingsail apparently determined to get as much in the way as possible. Further to the west a glowlit tunnel appears to sustain heavy use -- most likely the entrance to the main living caverns of the resident Weyrfolk. East, the bowl spreads wide into the very center of the Bowl.

Shepoth rumbles in pleasure as he nestles down further in the snow, spreading his wings wide.

"Jacket?" Puokano nearly squeaks. "My jacket's back in th' room.." He's dragged along, neverless, and yelps at the snowy /cold./ "Agh! I'm going back inside!" he insists. He turns a glower upon C'drel and demands, "Make that /thing/ get this over with so I can get out of here." He gives his arm a shake. "Lemme go, Maki."

T'ela walks in from the center bowl.
T'ela has arrived.

Matrith hovers near to the entrance of the living caverns, dusted in snow but delighting in it as well. Each new person emerging from the caverns earns a long, rumbled note, until C'drel finally appears. << All here? >> "Yes, yes. They are. C'mon--" he breaks off at Puokano's words, scowling at the lordling. "He's Matrith, not a thing. And it's just too bad about your jacket." He /really/ sounds apologetic. Sure.

"You'll just run back inside, Puo-dear. Here, you may have my hat if you are so cold." Ramaki tugs her fosterbrother closer towards herself and shoves a charcoal grey knitcap over his head. "Now isn't that better?.. I'm sure you'll be fine for just a few moments, really. It's not /that/ cold." T'ela's entrance is acknowledged with a cheerful wave, as she brandishes Puokano towards the bronze: You wanted something?

T'ela shuffles through the snow, pausing by Shepoth's head. Leaning against the side of his neck, she watches Puokano and Ramaki with a grin, though a wave is offered at the latter. "It's not as cold as it *could* be, little lordling," she shouts up exuberantly. "Just *think* of all that nice, wet, frozen snow."

"Whatever." Puokano's tone reveals his true feelings: he could care less if the bronze's a thing or a Matrith. He does, however, allow a brief smile of relief to cross his expression -- a first, perhaps. "Thanks, Maki." He scowls a little, then, and shrinks back in an attempt to use his fostersister as a shield. "Cold. Wet. Snowy. Cold."

C'drel at least has his jacket on, and since he's already covered with snow it probably doesn't bother him. Besides, he has rather bigger considerations at the moment. Matrith's tailtip is twitching, and he's eyeing each person with close scrutiny. Taking his time about it, too. "Hey, T'ela," Cam calls a little sheepishly to the brownrider, then, "Will you hurry up, Mat?"

Riko walks in from the center bowl.
Riko has arrived.
Riko walks in the direction of the living caverns, bundled up in a jacket to keep out some of the cold.

Nearly loosing her grip on Puokano's arm in surprise, Ramaki starts staring at him like he's grown a set of horns. "Are you feeling okay? You just said 'thanks'." However, she stills has control of the limb, for she shoves him forward again, deliberately letting go after she's got her fosterbrother positioned properly. "Maybe I should put some snow down your back -- you must be asleep, and that'll wake you up."

T'ela is leaning against Shepoth, idly scratching an eyeridge. Giving the brown a final pat, she slogs through the snow towards the group. "Maybe Matrith needs a toothpick?" the brownrider offers, a wicked grin on her face. She nods at Ramaki, hands twitching. "That'd be a pretty good idea, 'Maki. Need help?"

Matrith pushes his muzzle in Ramaki and Puokano's direction, giving a considering rumble as head tilts briefly towards Shepoth. << Maybe-- >> "No, no! You can't take Ramaki, she's already been Searched!" << But-- >> "No!" << I don't /want/ her. >> C'drel shoots baffled look at the bronze. "Well, what do you mean, then?" Gaze flickers to Puokano, in shock. "Not /him/!" << Maybe. >> Matrith's being purposely, infuriatingly vague. << I need to /see/ him first. Close. Closer. >>

Puokano stumbles a little; he manages to catch himself, however, and pivots to plant hands on hips and glower at Ramaki, utterly ignoring the dragon. "You're a rude, snobby little girl who does cares nothing for other people!" he pronounces with disgust. "Maybe I just won't give this hat back."

Riko continues his walk, after a moment he glances over at the other goings on of the bowl. He spys T'ela off over there, as curious as he is Riko walks over to invesagate.

Snatching her hat from the Brat, Ramaki reaches over to shove his shoulder, reverting to childish behavior at his instigation. "You, sir, are exactly what you called me -- except, of course, as a 'little boy', not a 'little girl'." That dealt with, she turns to wince a little at T'ela. "Please don't call me Maki.."

<*Matrith*> Privately, Matrith isn't going to stand for being ignored; he has other ways of getting attention. Like this. No need for words, or encouragement, when he can send /feeling/ -- the uncomfortable, insistant need, that can only be assuaged by finding the /one/ he's looking for.

Flustered, C'drel greets Riko, then shooting a grin to T'ela offers, "Well, he did just hunt, earlier." That'd explain why he's being stubborn. Or maybe that's just normal. "Puokano--" just a little desperately, or worriedly, or /something/, Cam's catching sense of his dragon's anxiousness. "You can insult your foster sister later."

Shepoth croons softly as he picks himself up off the ground, showering snow everywhere. He pauses just behind Matrith, crooning curiously at the bronze, then looks back at the pair. "Leave of, Shep. I *know* you like Ramaki." But T'ela's grin is fond enough as she glances back at Shepoth, catching Riko in her gaze and nodding welcomingly at him. Attention is levered back towards Puokano as Tae rolls her eyes. "Matrith can't be serious, C'drel... he's not, is he?"
Riko nods a greeting to C'drel, and continues to walk over to T'ela, he cracks a smile, "Hiya T'ela, What's goin on over here?"

Puokano makes to grab for the hat, although he comes to a stand-still, puzzlement apparent upon facial features. "What..?" He trails off before retaliating with a push for his fostersister. "Shut up, Maki." Distracted, he spins around to plant a glare upon C'drel. "What now? If you don't have something important to say -- " A deliberate snort comes "-- then I'm going back inside."

"Be quiet yourself." Ramaki attempts to nudge her antagonist closer to the dragons -- maybe they'll eat him. No, they might catch soemthing. "You won't go inside again until they say you can -- Mostly because I say so, but." She's being obstinant and he's being a brat -- so she tries to nudge him again, farther away from the entrance to the caverns and further into the cold.

T'ela glances at Riko and grins back. "C'drel's torturing the little lordling. Or more accurately, Matrith is." Eyes narrow faintly as Puokano speaks, T'ela's attention once more returned to the lordling. "C'drel, don't waste your time with him. He's not worth it."

"I don't know," C'drel answers T'ela, flickering a glance to Matrith, who's staring at Puokano intently. Judging, perhaps. Waiting, but getting impatient. Cam straightens abruptly, staring at the lordling with the same intensity. "Over here. /Now/." Well, one side benefit of having been a Weyrleader is that one learns how to do a good authority voice, although mostly only Matrith makes him use it. A darted glance to T'ela, and he adds in normal, sheepish voice, "He's being stubborn." The dragon, that is. The lordling too, but that's not who he was talking about.

"I don't want to." Puokano whines a bit, but with Ramaki's helpful shoves he ends up reluctantly edging a wee bit closer. Not too close, though. Never know how far a dragon's neck reaches, and Puo certainly doesn't to end up in one's mouth. He shuffles over, arms wrapped around to protect what little warmth he retains.

Riko chuckles, "Torture? Sounds fun" He glances over to the torturee and then to the torturer.

Nasmyth, who has really been here the entire time but apparantly dozing, slits eyelids open and tilts his muzzle inquiringly before stretching langorously, before shifting to his feet and edging his way nearer to his sire. Curious, yes, and somewhat.. distasteful. << That one is being rude to a lady, and rude in general It isn't proper. >> That's _his_ worry. Manners. << Do you think he would do well if given lessons on etiquette? >> And yes, he lets his conversation spill over -- especcially to Puokano. It wouldn't be the lad's imagination that the brown is glancing at him when he intones of rudeness. After all, 'Myth's being rather obvious in his narrowed looks.

<< Better, >> Matrith offers, approvingly, all past insults forgotten. Well, he /is/ a dragon. Muzzle lowers to nudge testingly against Puokano's chest. Snow isn't the easiest thing to keep balance on, not that the dragon's mindful of that, tail flickering about towards the lordling. "Well?" << I'm looking. >> "But it's /cold/," and C'drel's liking none of this.

Hanging back, Ramaki just watches, lips twisting into a slightly malicious smile: This is going to be amusing. Shaking her hat out, she tugs it down over her hair, shivering slightly but ignoring it in favor of the show.

"I've had all the lessons I'm ever going to need," Puokano mutters to himself, slanting an indignant glance towards that other dragon. The rude one. Attention soon returns to Matrith, though, as his chest gets nosed; the lordling jumps back a step, frown -- a fearful one? -- sliding onto expression. "Make it stop," he demands of C'drel. "I want to go inside. Now."

Xalea walks in from the center bowl.
Xalea has arrived.

T'ela chuckles at Puokano's fear, turning to grin at Riko again. "It is. It is. More fun to watch - nobody can blame you for *that*." Her grin fades slightly at that, and she turns to face the scene again. "Aw, c'mon C'drel. He's not... he's not the right kind for us."

Bundled up against the cold, Xalea holds her carving tools, wrapped up safely in their hide protection, in one gloved hand. Judging from the blue hue to her nails, and the downright cherry-red of cheeks and nose, it would appear she's been out in the cold a good long while now. She moves somewhat stiffly.

Riko chuckles, "I'll have to get the story from you later T'ela, I'm freezing cold...been outside for awhile." He walks towards to the Living Caverns.

No, that isn't right. He's moving /away/. Matrith rumbles, undeterred, and tail slides further forward to subtly snake about Puokano's waist. << We could teach him, you and I, 'Myth, >> bronze answers smugly, before adding to the lordling. << No. You are to stay. >> "Matrith--" C'drel, it would seem, is in agreement with Puokano of all people. "You can't do that." Plea goes unheeded; tail coils to make sure there's no escaping to be done.

Ramaki just wraps her arms around herself, beginning to chuckle under her breath. "I think you've been told you're not going back to Boll any time soon, Puo.. And I was so hoping." Sarcasm, joyfun.

Puokano writhes a bit in Matrith's grip. Or his tail's, anyway. "But..but.." Eyes widen with something akin to fearfulness as that tail snakes about. And he yelps once more. "What's he /doing/?" comes his cry, directed towards C'drel. "I don't like him. Or this." Hearing Ramaki, he spits back, "You be quiet. I'm going back to Boll as soon as I get this..this thing offa me."

Pausing as she nears the throng of people and dragons, Xalea blinks. this sure is happening a lot lately. A closer look, and she mumbles a soft, "Oh." Search, right. Frowning to herself, she starts to move on, but then the subject of the Searching catches her attention with his wriggling protests. Moving closer, she actually grins a bit, calling out helpfully, "You /can/ decline, Puokano. Then again, they'd probably be so miffed they wouldn't try again... and of course, your dragon would die in its shell." That's her personal belief, anyway, as to why there are dead eggs.

Nasmyth snorts, a faint puff of breath steamed out at the bratling. << You have had -lessons-? What are they teaching these young humans these days? And so scrawny, too. >> He usually doesn't droop to actual insult -- but in this case, he's been listening, and considers himself to have every right. << Do you think? >> he then asides to Matrith. << He has been taught so -incorrectly-. >> Oh, he gets to snap now. Puokano was openly disrespectful to his sire. << He -- >> Steel rises, bristling. << -- is Matrith, and is not to be referred to as a thing, hatchling. >>

C'drel advances, perhaps with some notion of assisting Puokano. But Matrith's having none of that, either. Like a protective child with newfound toy, bronze keeps hold of the lordling, shuffling back and tail gently tugging the boy with him, edging awfully close to a rather impressive snowdrift. << Mine. Ours. He will Stand. >> The bronze doesn't /ask/ -- he tells. And Cam shoots desperate look around. "He's not going to let you go Puokano, inside or Boll, or anywhere, until you agree to be a candidate here at Starmount--" somehow, he gets the words out. Reluctant.

"Hush, you!" Words are directed towards the brown, but before Puokano can spit out a proper response, Lord Brat style, C'drel's words catch his attention. He sputters. "What are you talking about? I'm not going to Stand. No way. Maki can do that. She's good at picking up on local customs."

T'ela snorts, rolling her eyes at Puokano's reaction. She strides over after Shepoth as the brown heads to join Nasmyth and Matrith. << *Mine* does not have such bad manners, you know, >> he comments proudly. His eyes change color from a pleasant shade of blue to gaining little flashes of red. << That, >> 'that' being undoubtedly Puokano, << needs to be educated. >>

"I think you're being made to stick around. I thought you were going to /leave/ soon." Ramaki growses audibly, her mirth turning into irritation as she glares towards her fosterbrother. "Now I've got to put up with you -- when I thought I'd found a place to sleep without you around." At least it will be interested.

"I don't think you have a choice," C'drel offers, tone slightly odd. "I /did/ tell you dragons can be stubborn." << I'm not stubborn. It is right, that is all. There is nothing to debate. >> Matrith can't even see what all the fuss is about. His mind is made up, anyway. << Educated? Hmm. /He/ does not like snow. Perhaps I can make him like snow? >> Bronze is ever so helpful, and that snowdrift's convinently close. It isn't too much trouble to tug tail -- with Puokano -- towards said snow. Or rather, the middle of it. *Puff*.

Addressing the two dragons now, ever the helpful one, Xalea points out, "He has every right to refuse Search. It's not nice to force people into things, Matrith." She is finding it all rather funny, though she tries to hide it. "Go ahead, refuse if you want to, Puo. You wouldn't want to be an icky dragonrider and save the world or anything."

Deinha steps out of the caverns tunnel.
Deinha has arrived.

Nasmyth draws up, a faint rustling of wings hinting at irritation and the twist of head -- the large head, that suddenly slinks lower over Matrith's tail and it's catch -- decidedly irked. << 'Hush'. I am not to be 'hushed' by some little hatchling that has not his wits about him. >> But the sudden tug of the bronze's tail that sends Puokano just -so- leaves the brown suddenly bereft of irritation and quite, quite amused. << I bet he does not like it so, though. He has not the sense to have good taste. >> Of course not.

Puokano flounders about in the drift; caught up in tail and powder, the youth struggles with little chance to recovery. "Fine! Fine!" he manages to get out between coughs and sputtering gasps. "This is cold! Fine! I'll Stand for you if you'll make him let me go! I wanna get /warm!/" Tone edges towards a whine as Puo, stuck in the snow, attempts to attain freedom. "I hate snow. I hate this place."

T'ela laughs fit to burst, almost doubling over in an effort to catch her breath. Shepoth peers at the snowed-in candidate, and rumbles his approval. << *Mine* likes snow. They should all like snow. >> Putting action to words, Shepoth makes short work of gathering himself a large pile of snow, racking it up and packing it down with his forepaws, his tail twistcing in anticipation.

Matrith blinks at Xalea in confusion. << I am not forcing. It is right that he Stands. >> Try to convince a wall it is not a wall? << How could he not like snow, 'Myth? Snow is much fun. >> Tone flickers in delight, now, at Puokano's acceptance. << You made the right decision, >> as if he had any choice! Tail releases grip on Puokano, although that's not necessarily a benefit given all the snow, but Matrith's being gracious. C'drel, well.. grimaces. "Great.. great," he mutters, faintly, before adding, "Well, you have to go to the barracks now, anyway."

Deinha steps away from the tunnel leading from the caverns, arms immediately crossed around her in an effort to ward off cold. One brow lifts, faintly, at the one stuck in the snow, and her movements hesitate a moment before she angles her path towards this little crowd. Interest, politely masked, sparkles in her eyes, but she seems at a loss for words. How /does/ one greet such a sight?

"I prefer ice," Xalea points out, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. She glances from dragon to dragon, then to Puo, adding, "Congratulations, Candidate. I'm sure you'll fully enjoy your stay in the Barracks with all of the other lowlives." She's being sarcastic, of course.

Puokano quickly springs up and does his best to brush himself off, shivering all the while. "Can't I just leave now?" he queries while backing away from those dragons. "You didn't really think I was going to be a Candidate, did you?" He scoffs. "What a thought."

Shaking her head, Ramaki ponders Puokano before eyeing Shepoth warily, and beginning to shuffle backwards some more. She's seen what happens to piles of snow around that brown before. "Puokano, I believe they are prepared to drag you into the barracks and tie you there, to keep you here. As well -- Is not agreeing to Stand the equivalent of making an oath promising you will do something? Your father would have your hide if you broke a sworn oath."

Matrith gives Puokano a funny look. << You said, >> bronze points out logically, << That you would. In front of everyone. Therefor you are bound to it. >> "And, of course, Lord Boll's fourth son couldn't possibly /lie/," C'drel adds, dryly, nodding agreement to Ramaki.

Deinha doesn't bother to hide the suprised smile at the words overheard as she draws close. Rather, she looks towards ... Puo, apparently, and asks, "You're a Candidate? That means you might Impress a dragon, right?" Then, with a blush, "I've never seen anyone who was just ... asked to Stand...before." Indeed, she has precisely the typical, curious expression of some sort of foreigner.

Nasmyth begins to open his mouth - the mental one - with the hurried comment, << Perhaps you should make him -- >> But then Matrith has released his hold, and 'Myth cuts off abruptly. Too late. But then... << What? You accepted, and so you are bound. You are doomed to be.. >> He trails off, then chooses his words as he twists a foreleg, claws tucks together and used as an awkward snow-scoop as the brown resettles himself. Let's see if he can line this one up. << Egg fodder. And a receiver of proper etiquette lessons, no less. In the -snow-. >> How could Puo not be delighted?

C'drel half turns at Deinha's words, smiling in greeting to her. "New to a Weyr?" He enquires with wry grin, "I'm Cam," he introduces himself, distractedly peering back towards Matrith.

"Yeah, but.." Puokano doesn't /want/ to Stand. "He would," the lordling reluctantly admits to Ramaki. Gee, thanks. "Who said I was lying?" Puo then demands of the rider, drawing himself up. And shivering. He just glowers at Deinha. "Yeah, something like that. But I'm /not/ going to Impress one of those things. I'm just going to be on the sands to get warm."

"Puokano, you /said/ you would do something. I will find a firelizard and send a message to your father! He will be livid and come tan your hide -- and then make you be a Candidate any way." While not thrilled at this turn of events, Ramaki is perfectly capable of making her fosterbrother suffer. Horribly.

Deinha nods quickly at Cam's question, doing a half-turn of her own. "That I am -- visiting from Icevale, in fact. And I'm Deinha...Well met." Puo just gets a quick, curious glance -- one of vague disbelief, perhaps, before an interested gaze is flicked towards Ramaki.

Shepoth leans back to flick his snow boulder with his tail, then falters, turning to rumble pleadingly with T'ela. "No, Shep, we *gotta* go. Gonna be late for that meeting, if we don't." The brown sighs unhappily, but offers, << You can throw my snowball if you want Matrith. Or Nasmyth. I can make another later... >>
T'ela leaps up and grabs hold of Shepoth's flying straps to haul herself up between his neckridges.
Shepoth cranes his neck to watch as T'ela mounts, with the assistance of a politely placed forelimb.

C'drel is innocence; eyes wide and tone casual, "No one, of course. And, naturally, you're not going to go on the sands unless either of the Weyrleaders, Tami or I are there." Just in case. "I think you can get a knot from in the candidate barracks somewhere. And, of course, your chores listing will all be assigned in there." He's enjoying this now, perhaps. "Well met, Deinha -- oh, Icevale? Lovely place. Only been there a couple of times, though."

"I /know!/" Puo exasperatedly replies to his fostersister. "You've made your point. You can be quiet now." T'ela and her lifemate are just glared after. "Sure. Fine. Just lemme go get warm now. /Please./" He painstakenly adds on the last syllable, sarcasism tainting his voice.

Ramaki reaches forward for Puokano's arm again, tugging her cap off to offer it to him. "I think we can go to the barracks, now. Would you like my hat again? You don't get to keep it, but if you pay me, I'll make you your own, and a set of mittens, too." She's not cheap, but she'll do things for him -- if asked nicely.

Deinha's smile widens a touch at the subject of her home. "I like it there, certainly." She frowns a bit, with as much mischief as ill humor, "And it's got heated caverns, which can be ... preferable to this..." But her smile soon returns, showing off straight, white teeth, "Not to complain about this place. It's *nice* to see more of the sky, and the snow is ... beautiful. Cold, but lovely."

"The Candidate Barracks are warm," Xalea offers to Puo, outright grinning now as she glances to Matrith and Nasmyth.

C'drel's lips twitch faintly as he casts a glance to Matrith, "It is and isn't," he agrees amusedly, before staring at Puokano half in surprise. He said /please/? "Yes, sure. The barracks are northwards -- Ramaki knows where they are, right?"

"Snow's ugly," Pouk calls out for Deinha's benefit. "Maybe you've been out in the cold too long." Ramaki's hat is snatched, and pulled snugly over head and red-tinged ears. "Yes. I'd like your hat. And I'd like to get out of here, now." Puokano only says please and thank you, mind, when his tone's dripping with sarcasism. Really -- what do you take him for? Some nice, cheerful, humble boy? Hah.

Nasmyth carefully does not grimace. Not that dragons are particularly capable of grimacing, but he does pull the general -feeling- off, even if he's carefully not doing so. << Ech. I am -- utterly discouraged. This shall be a long task ahead. But if we cannot do something -- you and I, Matrith -- about this young one's behavior, no one shall be able to. He will be the better for it. >> There's an overtone of 'whether he likes it, or not' there, you can be sure. << We have heated caverns, too, >> he tells Deinha promptly, ever helpful.

"Most certainly do, sir. I can escort Puokano there, if you would like?" Ramaki is polite in vocal tone, giving no signs -- past a smirk -- of her glee. This is going to be interesting. "If we're excused, we can go, Puo. Maybe you should ask their leave?" 'They' being riders and dragons, of course.

Deinha just shrugs, still smiling at Puo, whom she's already picked for somewhat disagreeable. Next follows a blink gaze at each of the dragons, finally settled on Nasmyth. "Heated? But yes...it's just the ... outdoors I'm not used to, I suppose." She looks a little uncertain, thought it's hard to say if the cause is the conversation topic, or the dragon himself.

Matrith shifts his stance slightly, to better watch Puokano, though with less intensity than he had earlier. << I taught C'drel -- so if between us we can not teach him, >> the bronze agrees with Nasmyth. "Have you seen the dragon sauna yet? Or the hot springs? I fear they're the most popular places here, largely because they're the warmest," C'drel offers to Deinha, pointed ignoring Matrith's comment. "And the sands, of course."

"Maybe I don't," Puokano pointedly tells his fostersister..and fellow Candidate? "C'mon. Let's go."

Sighing exuberantly, Ramaki just shakes her head and begins to lead the way, waving a farewell towards the other folk and the dragons -- "Okay, let's go. You can go get your coat later, as well as your other clothing."
Ramaki walks east to the center bowl.
Ramaki has left.

"And don't forget the bathing caverns and the garden cavern," Xalea is quick to add on C'drel's list. "Really, most of the places here are very warm, except for those closest to the outdoors."

<< He should ask leave, yes. Politely. >> Nasmyth will get in his own two Marks in this time. Puokano will learn if it kills them both, and knowing the brown's tendency to devote himself whole-heartedly to causes, this is not entirely impossible. He's stubborn. Puokano's stubborn. << The sauna and -- yes, what Matrith's said. >> Then muzzle stretches skywards before turning once more in Deinha's direction, though there's still attention paid to Puokano.. but perhaps the brat can get away with his hide intact. He is somewhat.. distracted. << And it is cold, yes. Delightfully so. The stars are not this bright and the air is not this clear in Azov. >>

Deinha shakes her head faintly, smile turning rueful, "I'm afraid I haven't seen all there is yet. Dragon sauna? They have their own ... pools, then?" She frowns, then murmurs, "But, of course, they'd have to, wouldn't they..." Finally, she grins at Xalea, "Bathing caverns, I've found -- I'd be quite the sight if I hadn't, I'm sure. But I haven't seen the garden cavern. I'd like to see how it compares to ours at Icevale, hmm..."

[Log ends]