Deinha's POV

Leah is sitting by the hearth, and a table must be missing a chair, because Leah has pulled it up and plopped down on it. A small bowl of soup is being balanced on her leags that have been carefully placed together so as not to spill the hot soup every which way, which will probably happen because Leah is such a clutz. She taps a toe on the floor absentmindedly, and the soup splashes slightly. "Eeep!" is squeaked, and she places the bowl of soup on the floor below her chair. Better not take chances.

Deinha enters from the tunnels leading to riders' weyrs, steps quiet but sure as she makes her own way to the food tables. A nod is given, here and there, to familiar faces, but she mostly sticks to her own business, distracted by some thoughts or another. The faintly worried expression on her face disappears, however, at the squeaked sound; it is quickly replaced by a gently amused, if appropriately concerned, one. And the young woman calls over to Leah, "Having problems?" There's just a /hint/ of friendly teasing in the soft soprano voice as Dei pauses, one hand on the soup ladle.

Leah ponders a bit, as she has learned to do b'fore she speaks, and finally replies. "Yup. I'm just clumsy." Is offered, and she bends down and picks up her soup, and heads slowly and carfully to the nearest table, leaving her stolen chair behind. Sighing, she sits down on a different chair, and plops down her bowl with ease. "Ouchie! Hothothot!" is cried out loud as the soup splashes up once again. She blows on her hands, and sniffles. Her soup is almost gone, now! *whine*

"Ah, well that's not so bad, then." Resuming her bowl-filling, the woman offers, "Maybe it would help if you filled two bowls just a little, rather than having one with a lot of soup?" And, as Leah moves to another table, Deinha finishes the gathering of bread and juice to accompany her own soup. Again, though, an exclamation gathers the goldrider's attention, as she glances quickly over her shoulder, suppresses a grin, and finally moves to join her. "Mind if I sit here, too?" is the polite question as she pauses, food and drink juggled neatly in her hands.

Leah continues blowing at her hand, but nods to the woman, and grins. But she frowns quickly, realizing that she's lived at Starmount all her life, and doesn't recognize the woman's face. Maybe it's just her memory failing again. "I'm Leah. I'm sorry to be rude, but I don't recongnize your face." she ponders for a second, and adds, "But then again I don't have a very good memory."

Deinha's quick to set her collection down on the table and pull out a chair -- wincing slightly at the scrape of legs on stone. That done, she drops lightly into the seat, across from Leah, and smiles over at the young woman. Either not offended or not showing it -- likely the former, but then... Leah wouldn't know that, not knowing Dei -- she laughs softly and returns, "Nor I yours, I must admit. I'm Deinha, lifemate to golden Sebayeth here." If it strikes her as odd that a resident wouldn't recognize her, she shows no sign of this, either. But, again, the thought probably doesn't even cross her mind.

Leah blinks, and her hand comes to her face. Oh, right! Deinha! "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess your face just didn't register." she looks a bit sheepish. Not remembering a gold rider? Ooh, she blew it. "Umm..." she blinks, and now can't think of a conversation starter. Jeezie, she needs to practice using her memory.

Deinha doesn't answer at first, just picking up bread and dipping it into her soup. Half-way to mouth, hand pauses as said goldrider breezily murmurs, "Don't worry about it." Bread finally makes its way to her mouth, and she chews without speaking, one hand automatically swiping away the trace of soup that, inevitably, managed to fall on her chin somewhere earlier in the process. Swallowing then, Dei continues smoothly, "Some people just aren't very good with faces. And it's a large weyr, besides." She doesn't appear too concerned, at any rate.

Leah sighs, and dips her spoon into her bowl of soup and idly sips at it. Drips of soup somehow find there way out of the spoon and tumble onto the table. This is all routine. Pretty much every day Lee' comes down to the caverns, gets a bowl of soup, spills it every which-way, meets somebody important, doesn't remember their face, and loses all conversing abilities. "So, how are you and Sebayeth doing lately?" Bo-oring.

Ah, but boring can work just fine -- especially when it includes asking about someone else. People frequently prefer that to hearing boring stuff about other people; Deinha's no different. She smiles warmly in response, setting down her bread in favor of the glass. "Oh, we're doing well. Sebayeth is getting quite huge, though, with the eggs and all. And /I/ am doing ..just fine, myself." Yet she seems to hesitate before stating her own condition.

Leah blinks at Deinha, but she keeps to hearself and doesn't ask what might be bothering Dei, even though her expression obviously gives away her question. "Oh, yes, Sebayeth heavy with eggs! Wonder when she's going to clutch?" oh yes, back to boring conversation. Oh well, at least it's conversation.

O'kano walks down from the ground weyrs tunnel.
O'kano has arrived.

Deinha is used to that question, yes. And apparently prefers the mundane, for once, to the not-quite-asked question, as she cheerfully responds, "Oh, people keep asking just that, and I'm never sure at all. This is our first, you know -- it's all rather exciting, but just a bit nerve-wracking, too." Just the faintest pause, as Dei's talkative nature manifests, before she finishes, "But I really don't think it will be long now... probably within a sevenday or so?" That said, Deinha finally manages to actually sip her juice, rather than just absently playing with the glass.

Deinha is addressing some question of Leah's, as the two are seated across from each other at one of the many tables, each enjoying a bowl of soup -- and making a bit of a mess, in at least one person's case.

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

O'kano doesn't just walk in, of course, when he enters. Oh no. He stomps. Loudly, too, while casting various curses and hexes upon the wintery weather. With hands stuffed deep into his jacket's pockets, the young man skulks towards the hearth, seeking warmth. A glance is slanted towards the table where the other two sit, and he glowers over with considerable nastiness before continuing his trek.

Leah sips at her last spoonful of soup, still spilling sprinkles of the brothe all over her portion of the table. She's just being very clutzy today. "Oh, that must be exciting! First clutch, and it won't be long..." Ooh. Sounds very interesting. "So I suppose the search riders 'll go out looking for candidates soon." Oh yes, Leah is very smart. She peeks around in the direction of O'kano, and blinks. Baaaaad memory. Who is that, again? ;)

Iria slips in quietly, casting a serene gaze about the room and its various occupants. Taking advantage of teh commotion made by the other new occupant, she makes her way quietly over to the hearth, surveying that oofferings.

Deinha hears the stomping, naturally, and carefully sets glass back on the table. Without looking over, she seems to hunch down in her seat, ever so slightly -- in recognition? But still, the young goldrider apparently can't resist the urge to glance, eventually, in O'kano's direction...nor can she help the quick wince as glowering look is received. But she does recover something of her calmness as she drags gaze back to Leah and blinks a moment. "Hmm? Oh, yes, quite." Then, a nod, "Right." Uh-oh. "And that means I'll have to learn a bunch of new names, I'd bet..." As if the thought were first occuring to her, she lapses into a bit of thought on that idea. Completely missing any curiosity Leah might be showing about the grumpy man who's just entered. Also missing Iria's arrival.

O'kano more than lives up to his bad reputation -- the reputation that Leah's probably heard about -- as he immediately switches his griping to accusitory grumbles about the other's conversation as he hears mention of the awaited clutch. "Who needs new dragons?" he mutters rhetorically as he serves himself an almost overflowing mug of everyone's favorite staple: klah. "Big waste of resources, if ya ask me." Nevermind that no one did. "Thread's never coming back. We don't need dragons anymore. Stupid things."

Leah puts some thought into having to learn some more names. People coming from all around Pern to stand for the clutch of Sebayeth's eggs. Lee' was never good with new people, or names, or faces. She blinks. "Nope, learning new names isn't good." she blinks. Oh, yes, this is O'kano. She's heard of him. *ahem* Maybe good things, maybe not. "Hmmm." she takes O'kano's comment and ponders some more, staring blankly at her empty soup bowl. Boredboredbored.

Deinha's trying to ignore the muttering. Honestly. But... she turns in her seat to regard the bronzerider with expression unreadable. "Okay, P..O'kano. I'm sure Jharzeth appreciates that thought." Ahem. Right. "Or were you just implying that our class was special, the last Starmount would ever need?"

O'kano pivots, then, mug snugly ensconced between fingers as he attempts to warm them up a bit. Peering over at Deinha with no little amount of disdain, the contemptious bronzerider states, "I would never give Jharzeth up. But more dragons certainly aren't needed or necessary. Ever." He settles himself into a chair across the way where there's still a clear, unimpeded line-of-sight to the others and adds, "Besides, Jharzeth knows I think he's stupid." Some sort of mental rebuke, undoubtedly from Puo's own lifemate, forces a flicker of contrition to cross his expression, but the man doesn't take back his words.

Deinha takes note of the disdain, and something subtle shifts in her features before she shrugs. And she all-out frowns at the description of Jharzeth, but, likewise, says no more. Instead, she turns back to Leah with a soft, "Sorry about that." No explanation, and only three words from the talkative one. Hmm. Deinha licks her lips, still silent, and opts to take another drink of her juice, a translucent amber shade of something fairly tart in smell and taste alike.

Leah ponders. Hmmmmmm.... Well, she has no say in the arguement, and she should respect her elders, so she just keeps her mouth shut and goes back to her lovely mindless chatter with the goldrider. "'Tis okay, but I'm glad that there'll be candidates coming for the clutch because I've always liked watching hatchings." C'mon, all those dragons and weyrlings are so beautiful nobody could resist going to a hatching. "Mm." she starts playing with her spoon, and stirs around invisible soup inside her bowl.

Deinha, on the other hand, has plenty of soup -- and juice -- left to deal with. It /does/ help when you don't spill it. It also helps when you talk less and eat more. Ah well. She'll work on that now, then. Except...first, she's got to say, smile returning to her lips, "Sebayeth's hatching was my first, but.. I imagine it'll be wonderful to just watch this time." That said, she works on finishing her soup. Or starts to. She's soon playing with it nearly as much as Leah was with her non-existent soup.

Leah beams back at Deinha, and she peeks out at the food set down at the other end of the table that she's sitting at. Hmm. She peeks around, looking for a spare drudge, and politely asks one that's near if they have any freshly baked cookies in the kitchen. the drudge replies no, and Lee' pouts. They never have any special cookies for her.

Iria has disconnected.

Deinha hides the amusement that does spring to mind with Leah's cookie request. It shouldn't be funny, really...but she looks so upset that..well, it's cute. Clearing her throat, Deinha asks, "Are cookies your favorite sweet?"

Meanwhile, Puo sprawls in his chair, boots placed upon a tabletop, and violently slurps at his steaming beverage with all the force he can muster. The young bronzerider's relatively quiet, however, other than the noisy, rude sipping, and only pipes up to chime, "Cookies make you fat."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Jharzeth threads a small, silvery line of contact as he seeks to determine the gold's state: sleeping, busy, bored, angry, or whatever else she may be. Remorseful, regretful, he evidently feels it's his duty to voice a soft thought that's unoccupanied by the usual bugling trumpets. <<I should...apologize...>> That's the right word, right? <<...for my rider.>> to Sebayeth

Leah is tempted to stick her tongue out at the bronzerider, but she catches herself just in time, and tries to ignore the obnoizious 'rider. What dragon would pick *him* to impress? Who knows. Maybe it wasn't the dragon's fault. Anyways, Lee' turns back to Dei. "Well, I guess so." is offered, and she pouts. Hmmf. No cookies, and some bronzerider saying she's fat.

Deinha swallows back a response to O'kano's snide little comment -- not to mention a spoonful of stew -- and promptly lapses into a coughing fit. Her face turns red ... not from the choking. She's already okay again, on that count. But from embarrassment of sorts. It just ruins the non-reaction when you ... well, choke.

O'kano turns a sarcastically sweet smile towards the coughing goldrider, and innocently queries, "Okay, Dei? Wouldn't want you to die or anything." Innocent, right. Faranth's foot.

Leah blinks. Sheesh, how could anyone get along with O'kano? She keeps stirring her invisible soon with her spoon though, and it looks as if she's going to fall asleep at the table. Now, isn't this fun?

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth is the first -- sleepy -- as sluggish response would indicate. But it's not an unpleasant state for the slumberous gold. And she's been like so for some time now, in truth; it's part of being suddenly huge and heavy. Still, a tentative azure spirals outward, almost comforting. << He speaks...and not you. >> In fact, a brief, sanguine flare indicates that she has heard, too, of certain comments about Jharzeth himself. << It is not yours to apologize, though I ..we .. appreciate it. >> to Jharzeth

Caraline walks up from the lower caverns.
Caraline has arrived.

Caraline comes into the living cavern quietly and she looks around, "Azov's duties to Starmount and her queens." she says in a almost shy tone as she sees other people in the cavern.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Jharzeth speaks up once more in something that sounds suspiciously like defense -- and yet there's an undertone of annoyance directed at his churlish rider. << He knows not what he says. He speaks without thinking. >> to Sebayeth

Deinha takes in a quick, shallow gasp of air at O'kano's words, color rushing to her cheeks, and turns away, eyes bright. Caraline's sudden arrival is processed slowly by Dei, whose hands are now clasped tightly in her lap, but she eventually manages a strained smile and a reply, "Why...thank you." How very well that statement applies, even, as the young goldrider keeps looking over at the stranger, smile softening a bit, and offers, "Can I help you with anything?"

Something akin to regret becomes evident in O'kano's expression for a short moment once he sees the goldrider's reaction and after her back is safely turned. Quickly reverting to his regular superior facade, the young man shoots an irritable glance towards Caraline and snaps, "Golds don't need duties. All they do is lay eggs and populate Weyrs with unneeded dragons."

Caraline hmmms and shrugs, "I don't know Ma'am, I was looking around. I'm a fisher by trade, came up here to learn a bit about ice fishing."

Back rigid, posture perfect, it would seem Deinha lets bronzer's next comment slide. Except, of course, that she stiffened further on hearing it. For all that she didn't respond. Caraline's words get a sober nod, followed swiftly by a bit of agreement, "Ice fishing here is fairly neat, from what I hear. The fish taste good, at any rate." Ahem. She clears her throat, getting rid of the faint huskiness lacing earlier speech, and continues, "I'm Deinha, by the way, lifemate to gold Sebayeth. If you do think of anything...please feel free to ask."

Kaelin has connected.

Leah blinks, and turns her gaze towards the newcomer. Atleast it's something other than the obnoixious bronzerider to pay attention to. She taps her fingers on the tabletop, letting out a sigh. "Ho hum."

Caraline nods her head a bit, "I'm Caraline, a pleasure to meet you Ma'am." she says with another shy smile, seemingly ignoring the cranky comments from the man, following Deinha's example perhaps.

Kaelin comes up from the lower caverns, a couple hides tucked under one arm. Glancing about, Kae turns towards a table in a warm corner, not wanting to disturb anyone's conversation.

Leah has disconnected.

O'kano makes a small face in Deinha's direction; it's possibly behind her back, but the bronzerider doesn't try to make his grimaces a secret. And then, abruptly, Puo rises to his feet and strides in the direction of the ground weyr tunnel, half-full klah mug still clasped firm in his grip.

O'kano walks up the tunnel toward the ground weyrs.
O'kano has left.

Kaelin watches the rider stalk off, wondering what he missed, then settles down at the table, and unrolls one of his hides. Peeking around the hide he should be reading, he watches the others in the room slyly.

Deinha smiles, genuinely, in response to Caraline, and replies simply, "Well met, yes." Short, but not insincere. Distracted, ever distracted, the young woman glances -- seemingly without intent -- about the caverns. In such is Kaelin spotted; he gets a nod. And, also in the looking, is O'kano's departure seen, though not the grimace. This, and perhaps something else -- her eyes unfocus in the typical gaze of rider conversing with lifemate -- seems to prompt Dei to stand, just as suddenly. Her own bowl and glass, both fairly full still, are left on the table as she pushes her chair in and calls to Caraline, "Actually, I need to go..well, go talk to him." She frowns at that, not even noticing how vague she's being, and murmurs, "Ask someone else if you need. Ah...he" she points to Kaelin, "Is fairly new, I think." She could be wrong, but, for whatever reason, the goldrider seems to recognize him. "Perhaps he would understand if you wanted to share stories of...I don't know, of getting lost. Or something." Again, Dei's not making much sense. But the woman's trying, really. "And people are nice. They'll help. Really." Mhmm... So saying, the goldrider pauses just long enough to be polite, clearly eager to follow the bronzerider. Or, perhaps more 'feeling the need' than 'eager' -- she doesn't look especially pleased.

Caraline blinks a bit and she looks a bit befuddled as Deinha does a bit of babbling, confusing her a bit, "Uhm, okay."

Kaelin looks up, one small hand brushing back a few strands of wayward hair. He blinks on being pointed to by the goldrider, then glances at Caraline, lifting his slim shoulders in a faint shrug. Who understands riders, anyway, hmm? "Hi," he offers the girl, however.

Deinha accepts that at face value; this once, she's not especially concerned with getting the words out properly. She runs off after O'kano -- or, more accurately, she walks to the riders' tunnels with perfect decorum, outwardly, while it's clear she'd /like/ to run, all the same.

You walk up the tunnel into the wider tunnel that opens into the several ground weyrs.
You walk up the long, long, long tunnel to the mid-height weyrs.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth is not quite as forgiving as her rider tends to be; she holds silent. But, abruptly from that silence springs a thought, a flash of warning: << Mine comes. >> to Jharzeth

O'kano's Abode
Thick wool curtains sweep across the grand opening from ledge to weyr in vivid shades of crimson, providing color to contrast the stark stone as well as protection against the cold. Gold threads limn the single tapestry which hangs opposite the entrance, depicting an aerial view of a southern Hold -- doubtlessly Boll. A dragon-sized wallow dominates the right side of the spacious weyr while beyond lies the rider's private sanctum; a hardwood table, ringed with chairs, is scruptiously clear of any clutter save an ever-ready pitcher of klah and a mug. Beyond, a hollow in the rock wall provides space for a fire, which is well used as the charcoal remains and stains of soot on the wall testify. A small hole in the ceiling, far above, acts as an outlet for the resulting smoke. Shelves abound to the left of the centerpiece -- the table -- and it's there that the occupant's several keepsakes are placed. Nestled to the right, safely away from the hazards of the fireplace yet close enough to benefit from a fire's heat, are a large bed and clothespress. Vibrant colors -- cerulean, cadmium, and cerise -- sweep across the thick blankets and are mirrored by the bold hues of a large rug which spreads across the floor of the back of the weyr.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Jharzeth appreciates the warning, and indicates as much with a warm splash of color. He does, however, make a note: << Mine doesn't need to know. >> Faint, slightly bitter amusement taints his next comment. << He's not doing anything that she shouldn't see, anyway. >> to Sebayeth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth, in turn, appreciates that note. Her own reaction is a more lingering, smoky wisp of saffron warmth. << Oh? >> Curiosity lights, and the queen begins to focus more fully on lifemate's actions now, settling down to a drowsy half-watching state. to Jharzeth

O'kano is currently stretched out on the plush rug before his small fire which heats the weyr; knowing the bronzerider's penchant for warmth, it isn't too surprising that that's where he is, heavy jacket shed and tossed carelessly upon the bed. For once, Puo's moodiness overrides his fasticious perfectionism that would otherwise demand that articles of clothing be put away properly. Perceiving himself to be alone, the young man curls up with a brocaded pillow that's been snatched from his sleeping place, and shoots a quiet, yet annoyed, epithet towards the ledge: "Shut up, Jharzeth."

"O'kano." Voice lifted in ... warning, greeting, /something/, Deinha arrives, and calls his name. This, perhaps surprisingly, not until /after/ she has entered and paused, hesitated, observing Puo. "O'kano, we have to..." She breaks off that start, swearing under her breath in an un-Deinha-like moment, and finally asks, baldly, "/Why/?" That single word, which could so easily be loaded with varying emotions, is instead uttered almost quietly, voice restrained -- yet that very restraint is somehow revealing, the word is too tautly spoken. It's a delicate cross between challenge and plea, with something ineffably sad winning out in the end: a complete inability to understand, a confusion, a quiet dignity wrapped together in the word that springs from countles other mangled feelings.

Sanctuary invaded, O'kano startles, flinches, and whirls around as best he can while remaining seated: knees draw up towards his chest, and hand braces against the floor behind him as he peers over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he queries hotly. Without waiting for a response, he adds, "We don't have to do anything." The question Deinha poses is misunderstood -- purposefully, perhaps, -- and the bronzerider lifts his eyebrows briefly while repeating, "Why what? Why did I tell Jhar to shut up? Because he's being annoying. Why do you care?" Lastly, as Puo protectively draws his pillow near, he glowers once more towards the ledge, grumbling almost inaudibly, "You could have /told/ me."

Deinha trembles. Just a bit. Not enough to really notice unless you're actually looking very closely at her. "I came because...because we /do/ have to do something: talk." She finishes that thought, presses her lips together momentarily in a struggle for composure, and then answers the second part, "No, not that. /That/ is your business, P..But ..." Deinha swallows, takes another step closer, glances out to the ledge as well, and then finally looks back to bronzerider -- friend, lover, enemy?: bronzerider -- "/Why/ are you ... so ... hostile?" She whispers the last, perhaps not liking the sound of the word, perhaps just trying, again, to maintain some control over herself.

O'kano probably doesn't see Deinha's slight shaking, since his eyes are unfocused as he silently confers -- no: argues -- with the big black-bronze dragon that lounges outside. When he does glance back towards the goldrider, fingers unconciously kneading one end of his pillow, he hesitates before answering the question, tone still carrying a hefty hint of anger. "Why do you care?" Puo echoes his earlier, more heated question, and purposefully returns his gaze to the quietly crackling fire before him: it's safer. "Aren't you happy with...with your life? Why do you want to mess with mine -- again?"

Deinha could use a good pillow to cling to right now; as it is, she feels decidedly ... well, naked - emotionally. And then, swiftly...not so much. "You don't know? Again?!" Disbelieving, Deinha can only stare at Puo for several moments, before she finally declares, words throbbing just a bit as they work past a sudden lump in her throat, "Because I do care. About more than just whether you hate me or like me or /what/. I /care/ that you either avoid me or go beyond rude whenever you see me again. I /care/ about what you go off to do when you leave a room after I enter. I /care/ about whether you ever stay awake at night because something you couldn't control took away..." Shaking her head, Deinha halts the rush of words abruptly, brutally, tone almost belying the words in its force as she repeats, "I /care/." Ah, but that's not answering the full questioning yet, and Dei's not one to leave such business unattended. So, she pushes ruthlessly past, continuing the painful speech, "I'm not happy, Puo..I--I'm miserable! I'm so torn apart inside that I don't sleep well, I feel sick when I get up, I ..." She shakes her head again, tears glittering in the firelight, "I never thought that I .. that I was just messing with your life, Puo." Voice softening just as suddenly, almost resigned, she murmurs, "I never thought that."

Speechless and shocked, O'kano can do naught but clench the pillow fast as he listens to the deluge; he doesn't dare try to intersperse a comment, doesn't dare to lift his eyes from the ruddy-orange blaze. His gaze isn't kept off Deinha in an attempt to ignore or dismiss, though, but rather from chagrin, as his first response indicates: a weak "Oh." Still, Puo scrutinizes the tongues of flame as he wades through the words Deinha's tongue just spewed at him. With composure whisked away, the disconcerted bronzerider attempts to stammer out a reply, clears his throat, and starts over. "I thought -- I thought...I don't know what I thought. And no--no--you're not messing with my life. I've probably been messing with yours."

And then the young man falls back into a troubled silence, not brave enough to face the empathic rebuttals of his bitter inquiries. With shoulders bent and stiff, he allows a brief glance for the pillow in his hands and a faint, rueful smile -- if a wry quirk of the lips can be called such -- as he spies the threads his fingernails have plucked from the pattern, effectively disrupting the boldly styled design.

Deinha starts to misinterpret that chagrin, but at the first sound from Puo she catches her breath. Her own eyes fasten on /him/, absorbing every little nuance, or trying to do so. She swallows again, trembles again in a compulsive shiver, and wraps her arms about herself, both bleak and impassioned looks of earlier faded now to a wan, tentative sobreity. Not responding directly to whether he messed with /her/ life, she says instead, softly, "I just couldn't understand why you'd suddenly .../hate/ me so much. Was I just wrong, then? I was just wrong?" She's still not certain: of her own feelings she is, but of Puo's? Not nearly. Then again, Deinha's got something of a smirched record when it comes to relationships; it tends to make a person hesitate just that much more.

"I --" O'kano breaks off suddenly, places lips firmly together, and works on formulating a response that isn't hasty, but one that's more thought-out: he doesn't want to mess up yet again. While fingers pick, absently, at the fraying embroidery of the now-wrecked pillow, he starts over. "I don't hate you. I don't. I was--was mad. At everything." That 'everything' certainly includes the flight; even though Puo doesn't name it specifically, the very omission perhaps gives it a stronger presence than if it'd been spoke of aloud. "And so I took it out on you. Because--just because. Maybe I thought that you'd be one of the few people who wouldn't hate me forever." After a hesitation -- he's not so good at apologies, despite the need to do many in his life: few were sincere -- the bronzerider finishes, "But that didn't make it right."

With a small sigh -- of relief, of resignation, of something neither defined nor negative -- Deinha relaxes at last. "And I couldn't, Puo; I could never," she agrees, gently. Her way of denoting understanding, on some level. "I didn't, even then. It just...hurt." She looks away, for the first time in quite a while, gaze drifting to where the flames, capricious, dance and flicker, twist and strain. "It wasn't right of you, by any means, but.." Dei pauses, searching for the right word, and ends up just looking helplessly back at Puo, "I care more about you than about /that/." Another pause, wherein Deinha again collects her thoughts and picks absently at her skirt in an unconscious echo of O'kano's efforts with the pillow, and then: "So, are we okay now? Are we /going/ to be okay, now?"

At long last, O'kano deems it safe enough to risk quick look back, guiltily glancing at Deinha before resuming his contemplation of the demolished pillow. "I'm glad," he remarks in response, needed or not, to the comment before the question. Self-reproach enters the bronzerider's voice as he adds with no little confusion, "Shouldn't /you/ be the one who's mad at me? You've got every right to be..." No answers are given for the final statements; not yet, at least, until he works out this issue of who should and shouldn't be upset.

"Yes, I should," murmurs the goldrider, thoughts just now turning over in her mind -- and not all her own ones. "Sebayeth agrees." She frowns a bit, "For that matter, I wouldn't..well, I'd avoid Seb for a day or two, if I were you." Ahem. "But.. I don't know, Puo. Maybe I should; probably, I should. But I don't usually get mad at the right people, you know? Before, I didn't understand. I was more bewildered than angry. Now, well maybe I still don't /entirely/ understand, but ... it's so nice to not have you angry, that maybe...it's just not..not worth it to me to get upset with you over it." Two wrongs don't make a right? Or Deinha's just a sensitive, forgiving fool. Or something.

"Jharzeth said as much," comes Puo's dry utterance upon the subject of certain golds. A small frown slides into place as he ponders; being the rude, uncompassionate brat he's been for the entirety of his life, the idea of easy forgiveness doesn't quite make sense -- but he's willing to accept it. "Oh. Oh. Okay." Returning to the previous question, he attempts a small smile. "Well -- I'm okay if you're okay. If we're okay." O'kano's words don't make the most sense, but he understands what he's trying to get across; hopefully, Deinha does, too.