Beach Shore Near the Jungle
Wonderfully warm, sunny all through any cloudless day, this beach is a welcome place for dragons and firelizards alike, covered in creamy pale sand, lulling with the soft sound of the waves and rustling of the jungle leaves further south. Rich with scents of greenery, salt, sometimes the redolent reek of fish or seaweeds, it's a feast for dragonkin noses; covered in shells, sparkly bits of rock, leaves, flowers, and tiny creatures of all kinds, it appeals just as well to their curiosity. Popular with off-duty riders, you can spot the talon marks and tail swishings in the sand, small or large be they gold to green, firelizard or dragon size, even the bootmarks of the riders themselves as they sprawl out to enjoy the sun. The jungle is almost impassable, overgrown with vines, though here and there a spot may be chopped out to give access to the bounty of the southern continent's fruits.

Jharzeth> In the water, Sebayeth is gambolling through the water, wings spread above the surface and glistening with distinctly pink hues as she wades about. Deinha, on the other hand, is resting lazily on the shore, eyes half-lidded as she watches her lifemate at play. In repose, limbs are stretched with something near to indolence, legs extended before her and elbows supporting her as she leans back: posture is half-way between sitting and laying.

Jharzeth blinks in from between high above the beach and begins his descent with quick, choppy turns. His landing upon the sand is less than gentle; the hard bump of bronze against ground sends tiny granules flying every which-way. Perched precariously between two blackened neckridges, the rider hastens to unbuckle half-done straps and dismount, grumbling all the while. "You're gonna make me sick." O'kano's oblivious to the presence of Deinha and her lifemate as of yet, although Jharzeth notes the gold and rumbles off his greeting accordingly.

Surprised out of her musings by the sound, Deinha turns toward the rumbling. A smile lights her features as familiar bronze is spotted, and the young woman shifts to her side -- still propped on elbow -- to wave at the pair. Sebayeth's greeting coincides: hers a more vocal, trilling sort of sound. << We, >> is the mischievous way of hello, << Are 'exiled' here. >> Amusement abundant, the gold dips her head below the water to finish: << But /here/,>> she blows bubbles, << Is not so terrible a place to be. >> Deinha, head swinging in lifemate's direction, laughs and turns back to the other rider, "Exiled is hardly the word for it, but... general consensus figured it might be more ... comfortable .. for everyone were we to leave ... for a short time." Head tipping to the left, she looks up and over at Puo, expression curious, "But why aren't you...ah..." She blushes, settling finally on: "There?"

O'kano pivots as his dragon finally deigns to remark that they aren't the sole occupants of the beach; sighting Deinha, a faint flush spreads to tanned cheeks, which may or may not be spotted beneath the dark coloration. "Oh. Hi." Even the characteristically tacturn young man is shorter than normal as he turns his attention back to the bronze's straps, fiddling with various buckles as if unsure whether to take them off or leave them alone. Jharzeth makes up for Puo's lack of verbosity and gives his own explanations to Sebayeth. << We left. We were late. They were already flying when I got there. >> Regret and wistfulness color his brassy tone; luckily for him, he'll end up forgetting anything ever happened within a few days. Not so for Puo. Abrupt, the bronzerider offers, "I can leave and leave you alone."

Deinha frowns just a bit as she watches Puo, pushing off the sand to bounce on her heels once or twice, almost nervously, before finally settling down. "Oh," is the soft murmur after Jharzeth's explanation. Her own expression a mix of half-formed emotions, the goldrider lifts one foot as if to step forward, then stops again, hands coming together in a fidgety gesture. The last words apparently snap her out of the indecision, though, as she quickly answers, "No, don't. Please." And, voice softening again, she forces on, "I'm bored, anyway. And I don't really know what's going on, exactly.." She swallows, then shakes her head, "Or, I do, but..." She shrugs, "Anyway, are you... are /you/ okay? I mean, if you arrived after they st--well, I mean, isn't that.." She sighs, looking down at her interlocked fingers, "Uncomfortable?"

"Oh -- fine." O'kano begins to remove the leather straps from his lifemate's body, who hunkers obligingly in the sand to assist him. He takes his time, reluctantly unfastening the buckles and pulling the leather off. Once the straps are neatly folded, Puo turns around once again. A moment's hesitation greets the goldrider's first question before a rare, rueful grin fleetingly alights upon his expression. "Yeah." The answer suits both questions, so no further words are spoken as the young man flops onto the sand and systematically begins removing his heavy flight jacket.

In the water, Sebayeth's response is somewhat different. << Well, there'll be other ones. >> Vague, just slightly, but not as unconcerned as it might seem: rather, the attempt is to console. She even lifts her head from the water long enough to peer, eyes whirling a calm greeny blue, at the bronze.

Jharzeth, free from straps, ambles towards the water to join the gold. << There's always more. >> His agreement mingles with the previous notes of forlorness; he marches into the surf, and the regrets begin to wash away with each incoming wave. Brightening, he changes subjects. << I like it here. Warm. >>

Deinha doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, now that she's standing. She does relax a touch at Puo's response, unlocking fingers in order to brush off the bits of sand clinging to arms and legs -- it would appear that she'd dropped onto the beach /after/ taking a swim, from the considerable number of tawny brown flecks she manages to send back to the ground. Her gaze having drifted back to the water, Deinha looks back to the bronzerider just in time to catch the leaving grin. /That/ appears to stump her a moment, but she finally smiles, hesitantly offering, "I can't really imagine what it was like, but... I'm glad you're feeling better now." Moving closer, she continues, innocent, "Since I don't think that I could help, at any rate." And, dropping, invited or not, down on the sand next to him, Dei glances first at Puo, not quite surreptitiously, then at the water, then at her fingernails.

In the water, Sebayeth, paying little attention to Deinha, is quick to agree with Jharzeth as well, on /that/ note. << The water tastes .. odd. But it /sparkles/... >> As do the gold's thoughts, quite literally, with a curiously intricate filigree weaving abruptly through the more typical hints of saffron. <<... When it captures light. >> Whimsical, admiring. << It would make a pretty fabric. >> Images next follow of blue folds of something not-quite-linen, billowing in a mental breeze, and faintly diaphanous.

That grin was more self-deprecating than anything else; Puo sinks right back into his moody uncomfortablity. He fidgets, at first drawing knees close to his chest before dropping them in front of him and studiously eying the two dragons. "I'll be okay," Puo eventually states. The last bit catches at his attention, and he even sneaks a mildly confused glance Deinha's way, starting, "You..." He pauses, embarrassed, and cuts off the unspoken train of thought with a short shake of his head. "Nevermind." Then it's back to gazing at something safer -- the sky, for example.

Jharzeth has to see for himself, of course, and drops snout to surf to snort at the foaming water. << I'll pass. >> The statement is dry, echoing the physical feeling in his maw, and the bronze shifts his attention to the second characteristic. << Sparkles. Sparkles like a...like a gold? >> He muses over that almost-poetic remark, but soon forgets and moves on. << Pretty. But not so practical. It'd make you wet. >>

Amazing how interesting everything /but/ O'kano suddenly is; and that the opposite could also be true -- even more spectacular. "I..?" Deinha repeats lightly, too lightly perhaps, before also ruthlessly cutting short that line of questioning; her method of dismissal is, simply, to cough. And promptly change the subject. "The water's certainly.." She clears her throat, still not quite looking at the bronzerider, "Sparkly, this evening." No, it's not an original word, and Deinha acknowledges that: "As our lifemates were saying..." Note to self: next time there's a subject change, make it a good one!

Ignoring what he doesn't want to address is O'kano's preferred method, and it's the one he puts into play after Deinha's first probe. Silence greets her query as Puo shifts his gaze towards the water contemplatively. "Uh huh." Abnormally quiet, the bronzerider makes no further attempt at conversation as he shifts position.

Ignoring what he doesn't want to address is O'kano's preferred method, and it's the one he puts into play after Deinha's first probe. Silence greets her query as Puo shifts his gaze towards the water contemplatively. "Uh huh." Abnormally quiet, the bronzerider makes no further attempt at conversation as he shifts position.

Deinha isn't particularly quiet. She isn't /comfortable/ with quiet, at least not this kind. Finally dragging her gaze to Puo, she sighs. "You're sure you're okay? Not that I think you wouldn't know how you feel, but... you just ..seem... I don't know. Maybe it's just that I'm bothering you. Would you like to talk about something else?" Rambling, she is, and with no apparent intention to stop. "We could do that; it's just that I wasn't sure you were okay, and then I'm really not sure what to think about all this, anyway." She gestures, palm up, as if the unidentified 'this' -- Khavrineth's Flight, perhaps? -- were a tangible object in front of them. "Because I know what Tamial told me about flights, and she made me go away, which means ... well, who knows when I'll have to /really/ be worried, and I haven't done what she said yet, and..." Deinha stops, abruptly, color high. "Ah, sorry." She looks almost confused. "I just meant -- are you okay?" Is /she/ okay?

If it's possible, O'kano grows still more uncomfortable as the goldrider continues to talk, keeping his gaze away and distractedly playing with the sand. He picks up a handful just to let it sift through his fingers in a steady stream, repeating this action over and over as he softly clears his throat in what's obviously a nervous gesture -- there's no intention of breaking in and adding his voice. Once she comes to a halt, Puo judges it safe to comment, "You don't have to be sorry." He pauses, shrugs his shoulders, and answers the question, "I..I guess so." A shadow of annoyance shows upon his expression: he didn't /mean/ to hesitate, didn't mean to negate his response with betraying inflections. But that's just what he did.

Deinha, in turn, watches the sand as she speaks. It's a welcome distraction. Though something does make her look away near the end of her own speech: 'round the time she blushes, in fact. "No? No, of course not. All I did was talk. That never hurt anyone..." Still rather breathy, words coming in that same rapid stream of thought-turned-speech. But at the second answer to her question, one can be certain Deinha takes note of the hesitation, blue eyes returning to Puo's face with an intensity just short of searching. She, too, hesitates, trying to interpret that flicker of annoyance. "I guess what I really meant," she half-whispers, "Is ..." And here her perfect rush of words fails her; she pauses, gaze skittering away and back as she tries to form the next words: "Can I .." She licks her lips, fights again to keep from looking away, and finally breathes, "..h-help you?"

"Uh huh." Puo resorts to a neutral comment after the goldrider's first comments, firmly focusing his attention to the trickling sand. He fails to scoop up another handful, however, as Deinha clarifies in almost-whispers, hand palm-up and empty of all but a few grains of sand. The bronzerider's blue-eyed gaze slants towards her, surprise registering as he digests her words. "What?" he questions, uncertain that he'd heard right. "But...but...but you don't like me. Do you?" Regardless of the flight-induced feelings O'kano currently has, the vestiges of a holdbred heritage are still there, and demand to be voiced. "I mean..." he trails off, bites his lower lip, and tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks that's probably showing up upon his face.

Deinha is trying to claim some small aspect of her typical dignity, but it's really hard to do when you've just offered...well...what she has. There's no way she's repeating it, either. She shrinks down a little at his initial question, no doubt starting to regret the uncharacteristic words. All backward motion ceases, though, at the next part, Dei's eyes widening in surprise. "No! No, I don't not like you." Oh, but that's not quite what he asked, is it? "In fact, I.." Now she finally does look away, voice faltering again. "What I mean is..." She's prevaricating. Reluctant gaze coming back to bronzerider, she concentrates on his left shoulder as she admits, voice quietly strained, "I /want/ to ...help." Caution in the movement, she lifts her eyes. "I want to." Coming from Deinha, that certainly implies something other than dislike, to say the least.

O'kano struggles to regain control of his facial expression and subdue the astonishment blatantly displayed there. A quick glance, almost as if he's afraid to meet her eyes, is shot at Deinha as he strives to keep his composure. And when he does answer, the tone is carefully regulated and deceptively calm; the real tension's noticeable in the absence of any emotion. "It's not that I don't want..." He pauses, threatens to flush, and changes his approach. "I mean, there's a difference between wanting to help and wanting to...er. You know." He resorts to the sand-sifting trick, scooping up another handful and keeping his eyes focused upon the streaming granules.

That means Deinha's going to have to /say/ it, doesn't it? Blushing quite furiously now, Deinha doesn't respond for a moment, looking now down at her hands as she fidgets just a bit. Her mouth opens, answer on the tip of her tongue, just to be shut again, lips pursed firmly as she reconsiders. Finally, she lifts her head -- and her hand -- and offers, simply, "But I don't just want to help you, Puo." That said, she moves to lightly touch bronzerider's arm, murmuring, "I thought that much was obvious..." And giving her head a gentle shake, she leans forward just a bit to state, with quiet insistence, "I want ...this. I've nearly 20 turns, Sebayeth's nearly as mature as they get, and ..." Voice trembling just slightly, she manages the last few words: "I want .. you." And, almost to protect that soft declaration, she rushes onward, "I know, I always said I couldn't believe people would do this, but ... "

Lucky for her, Puo hasn't lifted his gaze yet and doesn't notice the redness of Deinha's cheeks. When he does look up after several moments of quiet contemplation -- or whatever else his unmoving silence might be taken for -- and allows a swift, surprised glance down at where the goldrider's hand touched his arm, his words come slowly. "Um." After worrying his lip and softly clearing his throat out of two unconcious nervous habitudes, he continues. "I guess...yeah. I want that all too."

Lucky for her, she isn't expecting a traditional romantic confession. In fact, now it's Deinha's turn to look surprised, however briefly, at even that much. And suddenly shy. "I..." She glances around them, something of chagrin entering her voice as she points out, "We, ah.. I mean, we're on a beach. Should we...we should go.." She frowns a little, trying to figure this out; she's not exactly experienced in arranging matters of this sort. "I don't think we should stay right here, but..." /Now/, the young woman is nervous -- it's not just a possibility or a thought she can keep to herself, but rather something that's been spoken, discussed, agreed upon...chosen. "I don't know," is the soft, slightly frustrated sound, "What we should do." Almost primly, she adds, "I've never done this before." And that needless admittance calls forth a trace of a smile.

O'kano is far from the expert on romance, which could probably be determined by his prior actions. He follows her lead by also sparing a few peeks for the surrounding scenery before agreeing, however reluctantly. "Oh. Yeah. That'd probably be wise, hmm?" He struggles to his feet and turns his head to look for Jharzeth before remembering his manners and sticking out his hand in an offering to help Deinha to her feet. "We'll figure things out," he adds as a weak assurance; he makes a face at his choice of words, next, and tries again. "I mean...um...you've got nothing to worry about?" The last bit is more of a question than a statement as Puo attempts -- and fails -- at confident masculinity.

Deinha accepts the hand up, not letting go as she stands -- not clinging, either, she leaves that choice to O'kano. Amusement again flickers irreverently across her features at Puo's original word choice, or, moreso, by his own response to it; such a smile is then replaced the next moment by genuine affection, and something bordering on ... tenderness? .. as she quietly affirms, "I know." She trusts him, whether he's confident or not. A sudden hint of worry does cross the goldrider's eyes, though, but it disappears next second -- after a moment of unfocus typical of a rider conferencing with lifemate. "Things, have ... ah, calmed down at the Weyr."

O'kano doesn't relenquish the hand, but, likewise, doesn't cling. Hesitating to verify Deinha's information with his own quick rider and dragon tete-a-tete, he suggests a moment later, "We can go back there, if you want." He defers the ultimate decision to the goldrider as Jharzeth inconspiciously makes his way towards the shore with a few last splashes of the scintillating salt water.

A pause, on Deinha's part, and a look nearly regretful, before she nods. Gaze again drifts away shyly, then returns in something of bemused wonder. She lets go of his hand to step back and smiles, "That sounds like a good idea." Her own lifemate lingers a bit longer in the water before also moving out and over to where her straps, and Dei's jacket, lay in the sand. There, she extends her wings to their fullest and shakes some of the water off -- heedless of the drops that land on leather. Deinha still isn't moving to join her lifemate, hesitating instead where she stands.

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.

O'kano precedes the goldrider into the weyr and sweeps a quick, concerned glance about the interior to reassure himself that everything's in place, orderly, and clean. Puo's fixation with cleanliness borders on obsession; the place is nearly spotless, and he's satisfied. Then nervousness takes over as he looks back to his guest, and sweeps his hand in an arc to indicate the surroundings. Unnecessarily, he remarks, "Well, this is my weyr."

Deinha's cheeks are pink, but that could be as much from the coolness of Starmount as from anything else. Following just the slightest bit too slowly, self-same goldrider gives the weyr a less critical assesment. Curiosity, instead, is the main force behind her extended observations; well, that and the all-too-appealing thought of diversion. "I know," she answers, simply, looking at bronzerider for the first time. Whatever her own faint nervousness, she's ever the one to try for comforting others -- hence, the next words: "It's very nice." Her gaze slips to the tapestry again. "That's.." Her voice comes out a bit strangled; she clears her throat and tries again, "That's Boll?" She glances back to Puo, gaze carefully avoiding the bed, rich colors and all.

O'kano seizes upon the subject of Boll in favor of other, more intimidating ones, and fairly beams over at the tapestry. "Yeah. That's Boll. Pretty, huh? It's a little like that beach." Oops. Puo doesn't do too good of a job at avoiding the present circumstances, and promptly bites his tongue. He lapses into momentary silence, contemplatively eyeing the wall hanging.

A more relaxed smile forms as Deinha nods, "Yes." Then, after a pause, "Is it?" She's scrupulously avoiding looking at O'kano; or, more accurately, she avoids looking /directly/ at the young man. Quick, surreptitious peeks are aplenty. Oh, but that doesn't work well, not for /Deinha/. She finally licks her lips, an anxious gesture and no more, and pivots slightly to face him. "Puo, I... I want to be here. I told you that." Eyes scanning his face for ... something... she admits, softly, "But I'm .. nervous."

"Yeah." O'kano keeps his reply short; the question may have been rhetorical, but he doesn't give any indication of noticing that. When he does eventually turn to regard the woman, his expression borders on troubled tenseness, which fades somewhat as she speaks again. Again, he states his agreement with a simple, "Yeah." This time, though, there's much more feeling put behind that one word, and he follows it up after a brief hestitation with, "Me too."

Deinha's smile returns, faint, at his response, "This shouldn't be so hard, you know." Tilting her head briefly to the side, gaze and voice uniformly speculative, she continues, "Other people just take a skin of wine, go off, and ..." She trails off, shaking her head, and her tone alters suddenly: "But then, we're not just other people, are we?" She takes a little step closer then, murmuring, "But today..." Again, she trails off. Again, she licks her lips in a fidgety, no doubt unconscious, gesture. And, just now, Dei seems at a loss for further words.

Maybe Puo just has a knack for messing up what's supposed to be simple things. Who knows. While brows knit as he attempts to digest the goldrider's phrases, he, too, inches closer. After a self-concious moment of worrying his lip, O'kano picks up on her thread of thought and remarks, questioning, "But today's a little different, hm? We can be other people for today?" Then, tentatively, the lanky bronzerider takes another step forward and bends his neck down to Deinha's level in the forerunner to a kiss. A kiss. Of all things, a kiss -- what has the world come to?

Deinha doesn't thinks of it that way, apparently; the look in her eyes is far from dislike, disdain, or any otherwise negative emotion as she looks, rather raptly, at Puo. Typical thoughtfulness has been replaced with distraction of another sort. The slightest of nods, acknowledgement without addition, as bronzerider forms his own question, and then she's still again. And, as Puo does the previously unthinkable, Deinha reaches forward -- fingers not pushing away but, rather, coming just as tentatively to rest on his shoulder. And her face tilts up, instinct kicking in perhaps, 'lashes dropping innocently.

There's certainly very little of the self-assured, better-than-thou attitude Puo normally affects as he follows through, shyly lowering his head until his lips meet hers in a soft, chaste kiss. His fingertips briefly touch at both arms and back as the less-than-confident bronzerider apparently tries to figure out what to do with his hands before coming to lightly rest upon Deinha's hips; he doesn't say anything more, for the time being, content to let his actions speak for him instead.

Dei's fingers, meanwhile, curl slightly on Puo's shoulder, while her other hand similarly finds its way upward, palm touching about bronzerider's chest briefly before skimming upward to rough symmetry with the first. While not exactly confident, her own movement is more ... exploratory than cautious. And, after a slight pause, she leans back just slightly at the waist, eyes open and faintly questioning as she looks up to Puo. "You.." Heat infuses the young woman's cheeks, and she doesn't quite finish that statement, whatever it is, as her gaze drops back down to the bronzerider's lips a moment before being dragged again to his eyes, expression a mix of confusion and acceptance, faint guilt and a drowsily increasing 'interest'.

O'kano's own grasp tightens, slowly but surely, as his own self-assurance builds; if Deinha's not running away shrieking, then maybe he's doing something right. Or not terribly bad, anyways. He hesitates, then, as the woman's voice trails away, brows knitting together. "I what?" queries Puo uncertainly, prompting Dei to continue the cut-off thought. His fingers' hold loosens slightly as he waits, blue eyes gazing down into those that match.

"Ah.." Deinha's eyes shut a moment, as she angles for some composure; yes, she's avoiding his gaze -- usually a sign of dishonesty or discomfort. Rest assured, then, when blue returns to blue a moment later as she admits, voice a little breathy, "You ... feel nice. Warm." Fingers flex and relax on one shoulder as Deinha says so, posture tensing a little...it could be for any standard reason, really, except for the words, which give the impression that tensing is for the sole purpose of resisting some urge to draw closer.

O'kano ponders those words for a minute, simply stating at first, "Oh." It's a good thing, right? A moment later, he ventures, "So do you?" It's not the most romantic thing to say, perhaps, but Puo's not exactly known for his verbal poetry and prose. Unless it deals with imaginative insults. He tries out a small smile, too, that grows little by little until he eventually states, almost shyly, "I'm glad you're here."

Deinha doesn't expect the flowery phrases. Whether or not that's good ... eh, it's debatable. But truth, now that'll melt her heart any day. And O'kano's words, however Spartan, are at least not insincere. Her own smile returning his easily, body relaxing again, she brushes one thumb against his collar bone before murmuring, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." A bit of a double entendre, perhaps.

That's all the encouragement Puo needs, really, and as hands retighten at Deinha's waist, his lips place a soft, tender kiss upon her forehead. "I'm glad," he whispers, baritone voice deepening and taking on a faintly husky characteristic. There's no more words on O'kano's end, at least for awhile, as his lips seek hers, head bending to reach her level and tilting slightly. One hand travels up the young woman's spine, finally pausing at mid-back as the bronzerider attempts to gently pull Deinha closer.

Deinha has but a moment for her smile to widen before she's caught up, again, in something more distracting. Little more than a soft, throaty vocalization follows, wordless, as she angles her head back again to welcome the kiss, and, in response to the nudgings, tilts forward, feet shifting and settling closer to accomodate the sudden, tentative lean of hips, the general upward stretching. One hand, too, slides farther upwards, fingers burrowing into oak-brown hair -- discounting, just now, that she might be mussing it -- while the other hand slips almost lower, fingers splaying over the fabric of bronzerider's shirt.

Distraction is the intent -- or, rather, a redirection of attention to the physical aspects of the tryst. The next kiss is, perhaps, more insistent, as fingertips memorize the contours of Deinha's back. And while Puo isn't necessarily towering above the goldrider, he's tall enough to warrant bending to bring his face closer to hers; when her fingers explore his already unruly tangle of sun-kissed brown, he takes it as a cue to gather Deinha closer, communication transpiring in the form of speechless caresses of lips against skin. A silent suggestion, tacitly expressed in a gentle pull, finds both riders beside the brightly-blanketed bed, and the young man draws the goldrider down with him, hoping to spend the rest of the night in more than just kisses.

Fade to Black

Replete, now resting, Deinha lays on her side, nestled back against O'kano's length. Not a dream causes shuttered 'lashes to stir as she sleeps the sleep of a thoroughly 'sullied' woman, the vaguest hints of a smile lingering about lips still full from earlier intimacies. Breaths mostly even, she does, though, shift slightly once or twice, emitting a soft, comfortable half-sigh.

O'kano sleeps silently with one arm draped casually, comfortably across Deinha's waist and woven covers drawn up part way. And although he has all the appearances of deep slumber, when Dei shifts, so does he. His repose is interrupted by the sleep-fogged recognition that the bed he drowses in is shared; reluctantly, eyelids flicker open. It takes a few minutes, but Puo eventually realizes that he most definitely is not alone in the weyr, and he lets out his own little, involuntary half-gasp.

Deinha, on the other hand, remains decidedly oblivious to both company and location -- despite the solid presence at waist and behind. Even the gasp of sorts doesn't manage to fully rouse her, though she does instinctively nuzzle her head against the pillow at the sound -- likely wishing it away on some sub-conscious level. A faintly protesting sound is murmured, as well, as her light sleep has its interruption's beginnings.

Indecisive, O'kano lies still for a moment with a perplexed expression as he attempts to recollect earlier events and figure out what to do next. First things first -- he carefully removes the arm that dangles over Deinha's waist and falls onto his back, effectively removing the close proximity. Even so, he's more than aware of the other person next to him, and perplexion slides into troubled anxiety.

Now /that/ seems to gain the goldrider's attention much more rapidly -- the loss of touch. Loosely curled legs straighten further, upper arm raising to bring half-fisted fingers to her cheek, as Dei re-settles sleepily. But awareness is, perhaps unfortunately, gaining on the young woman. First, she reaches to tug absently at bed's coverings, feeling just that quickly the faint chill of removed presence. The texture of covers, somehow not-right, causes fingers to pause, stroking quickly at the material and then straightening. A moment later, her eyes flutter open, gaze drowsy on the wall ... the foreign wall. Deinha's body stiffens, tensing as she, now, tries to put a name to her surroundings. And, moments later, a blush suffuses her cheeks, as memories return. She stays on her side for the moment -- listening for breathing, perhaps, before she dares move.

O'kano breathes, yes, but it's short and shallow, quite unlike the breathing of someone who still sleeps. He bites down on his lower lip while fingers unintentionally knot around the hem of a sheet in an apprehensive gesture. With gaze carefully fixed upon the ceiling, he keeps his eyes averted from Deinha's awakening form. Self-conscious and rather bewildered, Puo doesn't offer any words for Deinha or clues about his opinions on what transpired, save for his silence.

And Deinha recognizes that, too, coming to realize all-too-quickly that she is not the only one awake. A faint sigh, then (this not at all the same as earlier, quietly comfortable ones) and she turns toward him. Or, she starts to, pauses to check sheets -- also self-conscious -- and adjusts covers to a more suitable height. Then, Deinha again moves to face the man with whom she now shares a bed, among other things; by shifting outwards, rather than closer, she manages to face O'kano and yet gain a modicum of distance, too. She, who always has so much to say, next says ... nothing, for several moments. Then: "Puo?" Her voice, normally a light soprano, is sleep-softened, husky, a little lower than normal, and filled with questioning. Far from confident, is Deinha, if not entirely awkward, regretful, or mortified -- each likely quite plausible under these circumstances -- just yet, either.

Conversation -- confrontation, maybe -- is inevitable, and after a hesitation, O'kano unwillingly forms his own response. "What?" The tone sounds odd, even to him: flat, emotionless -- or as much as he can make it. Finally cognizant of the bunching of fabric between his fingers, the bronzerider forces digits to relax, but the stiffness never leaves his posture or his voice, and the way he evades Deinha's gaze is suspicious in of itself.

Deinha flinches at the tone, yes. And, as O'kano isn't looking her way, she indulges in a brief expression of dismay before resolutely continuing, "I..are you .." Sleep-induced thickness to voice not yet gone, Dei turns her head away and clears her throat gently -- steeling herself emotionally, as well -- and then asks, "Are you...okay?" Confusion touches quickly on her features; that isn't what she meant to say. But, like so many things, it /was/ said. So she simply waits.

O'kano fails to see the dismay as he puts all of his concentration into maintaining a stony facade. After Turns of reticence and reclusion, Puo isn't sure how to express himself and falls back on what's become habitual. "I'm fine," he responds shortly, tightly. Risking a quick glance towards Deinha against his better judgement, the young bronzerider unexpectedly questions, "What about you?" An uncharacteristic reddening touches at his cheeks as soon as the words are out -- that wasn't meant to be said.

Deinha isn't so good at hiding her own feelings, but she, too, abruptly tries to do so. In her case, it's as much to disguise hurt as anything else, as she quells initial response for a muted echo of, "I'm fine." Unfortunately, Dei really isn't very good at it; rather than calm indifference, she achieves monumental success at displaying an expressive repression of feeling -- the quiet tone vibrates with things held below the surface, instead of actually being the opaque surface, itself. She shuts her eyes a moment, knowing that and silence are likely her best methods of hiding a reaction.

"Oh." At a loss for the proper response, O'kano's reply is left lacking. He lapses back into silence, determinedly fastening his gaze on a far wall while fingers resume the cloth-twisting. No more words are forthcoming, it seems; Puo doesn't make any move to breach the tense quiet. It's easier to let someone else do it.

Not easier, Deinha would surely respond, when you're the person being 'let' do it. As it is, she would quite prefer not to...but then, even her own awkward phrasings quickly become preferable to that tension, and Dei tries again. Rather than questioning again, or admitting anything, she observes, "You don't look fine." A slow breath is drawn in, and then she slips a hand forward cautiously, fingers lightly touching his near shoulder. "You're upset..?"

"Why do you say that?" the bronzerider asks with false bravado. "I look just fine." The statement's an obvious falsehood; not only does he not have the luxury of a nearby mirror, but Puo flinches just the slightest bit as Deinha's fingertips touch his skin. "Why would I be upset?" he tries again, knowing it's a lost cause. After a false start in which the words died on his tongue, O'kano admits in a reluctant mutter, "I just didn't expect--expect." The rest of the phrase is left off, but it doesn't take much smarts to figure it out: didn't expect to share a bed, didn't expect to wake up next to someone.

Deinha smiles a bit ruefully as she negates that with a soft, "You're not even looking at me. And I bet your /toes/ are even tense." Something else seems on the verge of being said, before Dei blushes just slightly and instead reverts to former solemnity. "I know you didn't expect anything. I /know/. But you showed up, and I'd been thinking... then you were -- had been -- well, I could help you, too... and it just seemed..." Again, she trails off, moment's courage failing again.

Defensively, O'kano informs, "My toes are /not/ tense." They are, of course, but Puo's not going to tell. He does relax a little, however, at the jesting tone, and although he also goes back to the previous rigidity, he's not quite as tense and the next words come out easier. "I know -- you don't need to explain that to me. Nothing's wrong with my memory." Cheeks flush, then, as his sentence inadvertently bring to mind other memories. Lucky for Puo that there's little light.

"It seemed /right/, Puo." Patient calm is tinted now with frustration -- all on top of the hidden feelings -- as Deinha ignores his version of what she does and doesn't need to tell him -- to finish what she'd started to say. And, for the record, her own memory's kicked into full working order as well. The hand she'd left at bronzerider's shoulder is quickly withdrawn, embarrassment entering Dei's eyes now, but not until after she's reflexively traced her fingers once over his skin in unwitting echo of an earlier caress. Cheeks aflame -- yes, some degree of darkness can be wonderful -- the goldrider carries on, trying to ignore her own betraying action: "So, yes, why would you be upset, O'kano?" Unless... Whatever thought next cross the young woman's mind is apparently not pleasant, as she looks swiftly away for several moments.

O'kano regains control of his features long enough to school them into a rather shaky, rather rueful grin. It doesn't last long, but it's an attempt to lessen the tension nonetheless. "I know," he states softly, more to himself than to Deinha. The brushing fingers merit a quick -- surprised? -- glance, but to his credit, Puo doesn't demand an explanation. He doesn't give a direct answer to the question, instead replying to it with one of his own: "Who says I'm upset?"

Deinha now rubs the same fingers over her eyes, frowning just a bit. Falling back, whether from simply being tired of laying on her side or from weariness of another kind, she addresses the ceiling, "But, aren't you? Weren't you?" More than slightly bewildered and perhaps a touch exasperated even, Dei turns her head to look at Puo, murmuring, "I can't ever tell for sure, with you, what you're really feeling. Sometimes, I think you really are just being," a faint pause, as she searches for a polite phrasing, then: "'cranky'. And other times..." She pauses again, shaking her head, and finally sighs, "I don't even know. Just..something else."

"No," O'kano stubbornly contradicts. "I'm not. Wasn't. Whatever." After quieting to listen, he grumbles, "And I'm not cranky, either." Evidently, Puo didn't consider that phrasing too polite. He muffles a sigh in the hand that comes up to rake at sleep-mussed hair and finally voices the question that's plagued him since he awoke. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Evidentally, Puo doesn't know what other choice words crossed her mind before she spoke. But, Deinha doesn't bother to refute either denial, instead just smiling a little and peering almost surreptitiously at the bronzerider. At the question for her, Dei considers a moment, expression for once successfully thoughtful and ... bland. "I don't know. Am I supposed to sneak out and go back my own weyr? Stay here until morning?" Letting her eyes drift shut, Dei suggests, not quite offhand, another possibility, "Do we go back to...?" Sleep? Something else? Goldrider doesn't finish the thought. Instead, she suddenly opens her eyes and looks intently at O'kano, spurred somehow to state, however softly, "I am still glad I came here. It .. wasn't just an opportunity taken. Not for me." She hesitates, then concludes, "It meant something." You mean something. But Dei doesn't quite manage that correction, verbally. It's there in the vivid blue of focused, knowledgeable-yet-innocent eyes, if he'd just look and /see/ for once.

O'kano doesn't have an answer on-hand, so he remains quiet as she lists the choices. And, after a minute, he begins with the noncommittal, "I don't care--" He breaks off, though, failing to finish what he started with, and unintentionally leaves the hint dangling that he does care what Deinha decides. "Whatever you choose is fine," he remarks in much the same line as the first. This time, though, he adds, "I don't mind if you stay here." Much like the goldrider, he's unable to elucidate exactly what he wants, but a note of buried hopefulness is attached to the last spoken thought. At long last, Puo removes his gaze from the walls and ceiling to peer over at Deinha and voices his agreement. "I'm glad you came, too."

At the first words, Dei's brows furrow, but interest reappears as he drops that line of speech -- even for a similar one. "Maybe.. staying would be better. Easier." Not until Puo returns both gaze and sentiment does she add, "I think I would /like/ to stay." As previously in this little 'conversation,' Deinha extends her hand to touch bronzerider's shoulder, this time as prelude to the question: "Are you sure you .. don't mind?"

"Maybe it would be." Puo takes what he can get and concurs almost immediately. Then, upon hearing the addition, the faint suggestion of a smile -- a pleased smile, no less -- appears on the bronzerider's darkened countenance, barely visible: one'd have to be looking for it. This time, when Deinha reaches out, there's no flinching back, and after a slight hesitation, O'kano confirms, "I don't mind. I'd like it if you stayed."

Deinha would be looking for it, yes, and then returning the smile once found. Then, her own smiles /are/ easier to come by -- though perhaps not in this particular combination of pleased, relaxed, and .. something harder to define. "Good," she murmurs -- purrs, nearly, but then...that wouldn't be very Deinha-like. She must just be...sleepy.

O'kano's own broadens some, transforming from traces to half-lopsided grin. "Good," he repeats. "Glad that's worked out." He turns onto his side, facing Deinha, and his far-side hand snakes beneath the covers to reach for her in the attempt to pull her closer.

Eyes darkening to a smokier hue, Deinha is quite willing to comply. As she draws nearer again, reclaiming warmth, Dei's fingers move up to trace the angle of Puo's jaw. "Goodnight." Whether she means to sleep or simply describes the night again...oh, now that's hard to say. Because the soft brushing of her lips against his the next moment could well be chaste or not, given solely her approach.

O'kano begins to murmur an answering "Goodnight," but the words are cut short as lips meet, and Puo instead expresses his response in a more hushed dialect. Fingers having found their target and pulled it close, his one-handed grasp now tightens -- not smotheringly so, but, instead, intimately. Propped up part way on the other elbow, he lowers himself back down and brings the other hand up to smooth back hair from Deinha's face in what could be taken for a caress.