Midmorning finds O'kano and Jharzeth lounging near their couch; the bronze, quite snug despite the relatively spacious wallow, rests with tail curled towards muzzle. The weyrling sits against the stone couch with his knees tucked up and scruptiously pores over an almost-crisp hide, reading silently while feasting upon a morning pastry.

Deinha emerges from her couch looking fairly well -- her hair is in order, her clothes are as clean as can be expected, and there's even a hint of a smile on her face. Sebayeth remains lounging comfortably inside, presumably resting still. But Deinha's smile fails just a bit as she spots the seated O'kano, one hand reflexively going to her tunic and giving a little tug -- not that it was actually wrinkled, but ... Ahem. "O'kano?" Soft, is the greeting, soft and oddly small, as she steps across the barracks towards Jharzeth's couch.

O'kano's gaze lifts momentarily as he quickly folds the piece of hide -- a letter, presumably -- and tucks it into a pocket. "What do you want?" His tone conveys considerable annoyance, and his gaze shifts into something more akin to a glare. "I don't want to talk to you." Jharzeth restlessly shifts above him, and the head raises momentarily to nudge at Puo; rolling his eyes after his lifemate's prodding, he doesn't apologize for his harsh words -- but at least he doesn't add anything on.

Deinha pauses, just a moment, before continuing on. There, standing before him and looking down, she clasps her hands together -- stilling the fidgety movements. "I ... I bet you don't..." She looks down, but that does little good -- just ends up directing her gaze at Puo. So, she looks up. And that's no good -- impolite. So she sighs and looks at the weyrling again, directly. "O'kano, I'm sorry." Oops, she's playing with her hands again. This time, she shifts her hands to the small of her back -- at least he won't *see* if she's fidgeting.

"No you're not," O'kano counters. "You're just saying that. I don't believe it." Stuck on being stubborn, his brows arch a bit as he meets her gaze full-on, sceptical and plenty angry. "You can't just go around saying that sort of thing -- people always say they're sorry when they're not." Noticably, the bronzeling doesn't make any mention of the day before and certainly doesn't offer any 'I'm sorry's of his own.

Deinha sighs at that, blue eyes filled with plenty of genuine regret -- if one were actually *looking* for it. Licking her lips, then, she bends down -- 'squatting' would be the appropriate word, if it weren't so gracefully done -- to more of O'kano's current level. "I mean it, O'kano. I do." Just that, nothing more, for several moments. Then, "If I didn't, trust me, I wouldn't say it." Trust her? "I *hate* people like that." O-ho, but that was, softly spoken as it was, just filled with every bit as much adament scorn as Puo has ever mustered. And perhaps a bit of ... something else. Her eyes darken slightly -- tattle-taling truth to the last declaration -- but she doesn't yet look away.

O'kano hesitates a moment as he watches her expression and listens to her statements, bites back some spiteful comment which readily comes to chapped lips, and simply responds, "Oh." He glances away, eyeing a bit of floor a few feet in front of him, and lapses into a silence which stretches for minutes. "Maybe I'm sorry, too. Maybe I didn't mean for things to come out as they did." His regard flickers towards Deinha, then away again and back to the stone as he haltingly admits that he was in the wrong.

Deinha blinks, actually, and manages only barely to avoid looking absolutely stupid as she recovers from, yes, surprise. "You are?" Then, a blush. "Or, of course. You can be sorry, too." Finally recovering something of aplomb, the girl smiles brightly and concludes, "Call it fair, then? I should never have said those things, and certainly not the way I did -- you just..." She shakes her head faintly, chagrin appearing, "Seemed to set me off, yesterday. I'm normally much more polite, really. Mother would have a fit."

"Something like that." Puo's reluctant to delve into it further, and his reluctant response comes out slowly. "Everyone has bad days." To say the least.

Deinha looks amused, but keeps her thoughts on *that* quiet. "Ahh... actually, while I'm apologizing.." She sits down now -- ha, she's staying! Maybe. Two fingers run briefly over the floor, while she refuses to chance meeting his gaze again, then she rushes her words, "I actually helped Aewen, ah, buy you." There; it's out. Deinha looks up again, tentative, "Was she very bad to you?"

"You did?" Surprised -- and not too happy about it -- O'kano peers over at the goldriding weyrling. "Why?" His frown is nearly a scowl, although he's a wee bit bemused. "No worse than anyone else would've been, I guess." A pause. "No. Would've been worse if it'd been Drekyn. But, still. I shouldn't've had to be someone's drudge."
Log file from Frostfire.

Deinha nods, quickly, in affirmation. Then...silence. And finally, almost reluctantly, "Aewen is my cousin, and she ... ah, wanted to spend some time with you. I figured it wouldn't hurt, and all she'd do is enjoy your company, and.." Coloring just a bit -- or perhaps that's your imagination? -- she swallows, licks her lips, then mumbles the last part, "And Drekyn's was the next closest bid, so I thought maybe I could spare you from whatever torture *she* might have in mind." Oh, yes, she *is* blushing.
Deinha's also playing with the dust on the ground again, fingers twirling little curly-cues and dotted 'i's along the floor as she pretends nonchalance.

"Oh." O'kano is, perhaps, at a loss for words. Finally, after plenty of pondering and staring at nothing in particular, he remarks, "No, I guess it didn't hurt. Would've hurt more if it'd been Drekyn, you know." Didn't hurt anything except Puo's pride, that is. "Maybe I'm in your debt, then. Or Aewen's. Or..." He runs out of things to be in debt to, apparently, as his mouth shuts again and he fails to complete his thought outloud. "If I'm ever in the place to hold Weyr-events, I'll make sure not to have auctions. They're bad things."

Deinha finally stops playing with the dust, self-consciously tucking her hands in her lap instead. "No, you're not. I did it because I wanted to, and because I could afford to, and that's that. And Aewen, I'm afraid, had ulterior motives, to say the least." A hint of a grin, quickly whisked away. "I don't know; it was rather humilliating, yes. But at least I was 'bought' to work, instead of .. ah... for some inappropriate purpose. I would certainly have protested, were that the case!" Looking to O'kano for the first time in a bit, she adds, "Wouldn't be so bad if *we* could buy *them*, now would it?" That *is* a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, now isn't it ...

"I figured that out soon enough," O'kano informs sourly as he leans back against the stone couch in a more relaxed position. "At least she's...over it." He hopes. Puo wasn't, after all, the most cooperative drudge to buy. "Mm. Maybe not," he admits with something resembling a sly grin spreading across his Bollian-bronze expression. "Depends who's being bought, though." He mulls. "Who'd you buy, if you had the chance?"

Deinha just shrugs at the first. Then, one hand brushing back a loose strand of hair, she thinks a moment. "Who?" Deinha purses her lips, then smiles, "Drekyn. Definitely. Since we all seem to agree she's the toughest taskmaster." Her hands are brought ought from her lap long enough for her to peer thoughtfully at her nails, then she continues, tone droll, "Not that I'd have very much to make her do, but ... it's a thought." She tilts her head to the side, invitingly, "What about you?"

O'kano, too, considers his options after the question is posed. With eyes half-shut, he squints up at the ceiling and methodically worries his lower lip. "Drekyn, probably," he agrees. "I'd make her go clean the feeding grounds like she made me. It's only fair." A glimmer of mischief or retribution sparks across the teen's countenance, then, as he adds, "Or Aewen. Just to get her back -- make her see what it's like. But I'd think up some really nasty chores for her to do." Revenge is always sweet.

Cor walks in from the weyrling field.
Cor has arrived.

Deinha wrinkles her nose, "Eww. I'm quite sorry you had to do that. It was bad enough having to 'share' the experience with Sebayeth." But, other topics sound much better to the girl, so she replies, "I wish you wouldn't, even given the chance. She's my cousin, after all, so..." she trails off, shrugging. And chances upon another topic. "Hey, O'kano... when's your Turnday?"

<*Jharzeth*> Irioth snorts sleepily. <<Certainly not move another person in..>> And that's her say... Or is that her lifemate's?

Cor walks in from her daily exercises in the Weyrling Field, and looks automatically towards Khanueth, who's got his couch quite thoroughly filled. She sighs and waves to Deinha and O'kano, before starting some stretching exercises, cooling down after her run.

<*Jharzeth*> Sebayeth sends immediate warmth, her own mindvoice separated from the slush of environs by a light swirl of golddust and lemon breezes. << Egg-heavy? >> Amusement flickers, briefly, in candied pink, before the thoughtful answer comes. << Water. >> A brief impression of sapphire sparkles: << It feels lighter there. >> Ahh, yes. << Less heavy. >>

Rueful, O'kano agrees, "That was bad. Jharzeth was a help, though -- he enjoyed playing with the scraps of leftover herdbeasts and all." He releases a mild shudder. "Not something I'd want to do again." He brightens. "Maybe I'd make both of them do it, even. That's just about the worst there is to do." Shoulders shrug, next, as he responds, "Doesn't seem like I'd have the chance anyways. It's not something to worry about." A smile is quirked. "It passed. About a month ago." He peers over towards Cor as she enters, civil enough to nod a greeting.

<*Jharzeth*> Zatmenith projects << Nothing is wrong with moving another person in, >> protests the blue, a little bit hurt by Irioth's response. << The more the merrier. >> A pause, as he mulls over Sebayeth's answer. Then, finally he ventures: << To float in? >> Aww. Now you've gone and confused him. >>

Although she doesn't make a face, it's clear that Deinha did *not* care to have the details. Cor's arrival gains a swift grin and wave, before she turns back to O'kano. Lingering smile fades into mild disappointment as Deinha picks up the conversation again. "Oh. I thought I might do something for you, you know, since you helped me learn to swim. And I know you miss the privileges of Boll..."

Cor nods back to O'kano politely and smiles brightly at Deinha as she straightens from stretching. Always need to warm up properly and cool down properly, her mother always said. She climbs up on Khanueth's couch and perches there, bending over to dig under her cot for something.

<*Jharzeth*> Khanueth sends several images out, but no words, what looks vaguely like a tankard of ale to those who know it, crossed out with a blue X, a mug of klah, crossed out with a green X, and what looks like a cup of really vile-looking something, maybe tea, not crossed out. An image of Cor with her mouth open follows this, indicating that's what she said. to the Starmount Weyr dragons.

<*Jharzeth*> Sebayeth pauses a moment for contemplation, playing with shades of light blue and crisper azure shadows a moment. Finally, the young gold agrees with Zatmenith << Perhaps. Moving in it, though, is good ... exercise? >> Yes, that's the word. Seizing upon it, she continues, << Everything feels light and fluuiiid >> She rolls the word around, enjoying the sound of it. << But it takes a good push to move. >> Satisfied, she continues lightly << So an egg-heavy lifemate would stay comfortably fit. >>

Too late now. At least O'kano didn't elaborate much more than the basic details of the pens; he's clearly just as unsettled when it comes to dragons hunting, even if his bronze is quite enthusiastic. Deinha's offer receives a brief, nostalgic smile and he ducks his head down to idly peer at his boot laces; reaching out, he reties them to a tighter fit before giving any sort of reply. "You don't have to. I never did anything for you. Swimming's just one of those things that everyone needs to learn. I just happened to be there. Boll was just...different. It's not the same anymore." Obviously.

<*Jharzeth*> Irioth's mind washes over all, though a wee bit forceful. <<Just cause yours wants the sire there.. doesn't mean mine does.>> She's cranky. <<Eating is good.. very good.. Lots of food.. healthy Hatchlng.. healty dam.>>

<*Jharzeth*> Zatmenith ponders Khanueth's images as well, and then dismisses them with a sea-scented puff of wind. << She drank tea, and it made her feel not-ill when she was ill, but now it just makes her feel ill. >> So that's no good. << Exercise? Why would she want to exercise? It would make her tired. >> And being tired is a bad thing. << /Yours/ wants the... the /other/ sire to be involved, and mine agreed. >> Finally. << So it does not seem unreasonable that yours should make sacrifices, too. >> Yeah. So there.

<*Jharzeth*> Jharzeth is reasonably quiet, save for his last-minute thread of snaking crimson. <<Just don't fall or anything.>> His offer is common knowledge, but, for him and his lifemate, it's just about all the knowledge he's got about eggs and babies and everything else concerning female-things.

<*Jharzeth*> Sebayeth reverts to dimly wrought silver in response to Khanueth, pale crimson flickerings the only sign of glow. << I wonder why yours would say so... >> And then she quiets, colors softening as she listens to the others bicker.

<*Jharzeth*> Irioth projects <<  :snorts. <<At least mine isn't asking the sire to move in.>> So there... >>

<*Jharzeth*> Zatmenith projects << At least yours doesn't want to gut the sire like a candidate. >> So /there/. We can all be thankful that he didn't send the image that accompanies that. A pause, and the blue says uncertainly, << Was that an argument /for/ mine, or against her? >> He's not sure, y'see. It didn't come out the way he intended. << I mean, at least yours can /tolerate/ the sire. Both sires. Unlike mine, who can't. >>

"Still. I could buy something like you might've gotten at home -- I bet nobody even knew about it, here." Deinha's not given up just yet, but the topic's easily enough slipped elsewhere, "Oh, but you did teach me, where noone else had -- necessity or no. And you were quite nice about it." Embarassed, suddenly, Deinha moves, yet again, to the next approach. "*It* isn't?" Pause. "Or *you* aren't?"

Cor bumps her head on the bottom of her cot at Khanueth's question. "Because that's what my mother always did," she calls over to Sebayeth, bypassing Khanueth's difficulty with answering that question. She pulls out a hide partially covered with writing that too closely resembles chicken scratches and a pen and stares at it, still perched on the side of Khanueth's couch.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Sebayeth slips strands of honeyed gold your way, confused. << Zatmenith's want to gut the sire like a candidate? >> Burgundy tides shimmer briefly, before she voices the appropriate question << I thought we liked candidates? >> to Jharzeth

O'kano admits, "Probably not. I didn't exactly go around telling people." And who would've thrown him a party if he had? "My parents sent up some marks since they knew I didn't have much room right now. Said to commission something nice later." He shrugs his shoulders again at the mention of swimming lessons; embarassment, maybe, keeps him from commenting further on that topic. It'll ruin the image he's set up. "I don't know. Maybe both." Introspective questions aren't Puo's forte. "What do you think?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth mirrors your confusion with intertwined cherry-red twists as he ponders the question. <<I like candidates.>> His affirmation comes with a bold note of umber. <<Mine was a candidate and yours was a candidate and so was everyone else's. Maybe Zatmenith is just strange. Or maybe he gets things from his. Mine doesn't like his. She threatened to gut him.>> to Sebayeth

Sebayeth shifts from within her couch, pleased at the answer received. << Oh. >> Deinha, attention diverted momentarily from
O'kano, tosses a glance back to her couch, then the gold adds << Thank you. >> And Deinha, satisfied, grins again at Cor, briefly, before looking back to Puo. "Oh, but that's not the same, O'kano. You have to let people surprise you with something. With a gift, not just marks." Then, realizing that might sound like his parents hadn't done their duty, the girl flushes slightly and quickly rushes on again, "I've never been to Boll, so I couldn't say for sure, but ... probably you have. I mean, you've suddenly got a new *lifemate*, right? Jharzeth's bound to have some influence." A moment later, she adds, "And, despite yesterday's outburst, I don't think I've seen your worst, judging from the stories... so, unless you're just different with me, you must have changed some." There's a hint of confusion in her eyes as she finishes and mulls over her own words. Did that sound offensive?

Cor settles more comfortably on her perch, leaning against Khanueth's side for a backrest. "Let's see... 'Dear Aunt Lizara, Thank you for the marks you sent and for the good wishes. I appreciate the warm socks, too. Do you have any word on my replacement? He still doesn't seem to have gotten here.' Hmmm... what else should I say?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Sebayeth agrees, happily settling down to softest pastel yellow, mindscent shifting subtly to the whiff of wild roses. << I like them, too. And it is a good thing yours was not gutted. >> Another 'interesting' leap in logic, perhaps, but she is being truthful. << Mine doesn't dislike many people. Just one, and even he ... not entirely. >> Olive lurks into being, murky and just vaguely upset. << *I* think she is too nice. >> to Jharzeth

"Maybe," Puo concedes. "But there's not really any room for gifts right now, is there? The couch's hardly big enough for Jharzeth as it is." He doesn't take offense, it seems, as he continues on after a slight hesitation, "Yeah, I guess. Jharzeth likes to have his bit." Something slides across his expression -- regret? Surely not. -- as he remembers the day before. And he notes, "I'm probably not in a place to decide what's my best and my worst."

Sebayeth is apparently listening to Cor, for she soon prompts << You miss her? Come visit? >>

Cor nods. "That sounds good. 'I miss you, and hope you can come visit some time, though I know you're busy.'" The scritching of her pen goes on for a short while. "Now she might be fun around here, and it's pretty bare of trees, so she'd actually get a vacation."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth is almost amused and shows it with a faint trumpet accompanied with the perfect brassy undertones. <<I would agree.>> For if his was gutted, where would Jharzeth be? <<Mine dislikes a lot. But I try not to. Even if they threaten to gut mine.>> A healthy note of sarcasism seeps through, although it isn't unfriendly -- simply ironic. to Sebayeth

Deinha shrugs, having made the effort, "If you are certain." And then, catching the look but not commenting -- likely, she doesn't know *how* to interpret it -- Dei smiles, "We can't ever be, can we? And sometimes, I say the worst things, all by accident. It's not that I *mean* any harm; just that I don't always think enough before I speak." Ah, she's not just talking about herself. Subtle, hmm? "Mother always scolded me for being rude, but I was just .. curious. So sometimes I ask impolite questions, like when I .." She trails off, smiling faintly, "Nevermind."

"Yeah." O'kano's response is mostly devoid of any consideration of Deinha's words, although the thoughtful expression belies his single word. Eyebrows quirk, then, in curiousity, and he glances over at the other weyrling. "What?" He follows up her last statement with an intrigued query before asking, "What'd you do?"

Sebayeth agrees. << I like it here. >> She's still tired, though, as evident in the nearly drawling mindvoice: << Even with.. all.. the cold. >> She sets her head down on the ground, each set of lids slowly veiling again. << Yes ... I like it ... very much. >> Deinha, meanwhile, is watching O'kano again. At the query, she blushes just *slightly* before answering, "Oh, let's see...I once asked the Lord Holder, over dinner, exactly *why* he and the Lady left a ball early the night before." The blush deepens.

O'kano chuckles quietly, amused at Deinha's confession. "Did you really? I bet he was just thrilled to respond to that one." He then glances up, towards the stretching figure of his dragon and rises to his feet, explaining with a rueful roll of his eyes, "Jharzeth's hungry. And wants me to come along, of course -- he's /alway's/ got to share his meal with me." To Puo's everlasting delight. "So I'll just talk with you later, Deinha." The bronze climbs out of his couch, careful not to tread upon Deinha, and makes for the exit. O'kano follows, absently throwing off a wave as he departs as well.