If S'ara sights O'kano, she makes no comment, instead splitting her lips into a hesitant smile towards Kairryn. "Thank you, I think. I'd have to say that kitten is far more enthusiastic than I, if only because he adores the warmth, and I only need moderate heat to survive."

Alondhra tiptoes out of the lower caverns, hair just dry enough not to be dripping down her back. The back of her sleeves and bodice are slightly darker--where else would the water go? A towel? As if. "It's cold in here," she announces to nobody in particular, creeping on toward someplace--any place--to sit.

O'kano, likewise, makes no comment concerning S'ara's presence as he enters the caverns from the tunnel leading to and from private weyrs. He does, however, cast a brief scowl in the brownrider's direction before noisily moving towards the hearth. "It's always cold," the bronzerider grumpily intones to Alondhra in a peevish tone. "Never, ever, ever warm. If you live here, you should know that."

S'ara returns the scowl, at least three fold. She's never really gotten along with the bronzerider, and she will not make an effort to do so now. "Of course it's cold. That's why it's Starmount. But it's warm over here," she notes, reclining in her seat near the hearth.

Kairryn shivers. "Only moderate heat? I don't think I could handle that. I plant myself by the hearth every chance I get." A glance over her shoulder and a polite nod in O'kano's direction. Then the sound of her name being called from the lower caverns sends her to her feet. "Oh! Apologies, but I must run." She quickly gathers up her things, and sets off. As she passes Alondhra, :Go ahead and take my chair. It's nice and warm over by the hearth." And then she gone.
Kairryn walks down into the lower cavern complex.

Alondhra looks at O'kano for a moment, sizing him up before she sniffs and lifts her chin in some perverse semblance of a child's pride. "It's warm sometimes," she says haughtily, darting now to claim the seat so recently vacated by Kairryn. "I meant that it was colder than usual, besides."

O'kano never really got along with anyone, for that matter, so it's hardly a surprise that he shoots another glare towards S'ara before snagging a mug and filling it with some liquid that steams quite a bit. Rolling his eyes at Alondhra, Puo counters, "It's never warm. Timor will crash into Pern before Starmount is warm. It's impossible."

"Be nice, O'kano," admonishes S'ara with another scowl, snorting into her tea. "Is it, Alondhra? I hardly noticed. Spend time in the galleries, and you'll never freeze again. But he is right; it's not really ever warm. If you want that, go to Southern. Or Azov. Or Ista."

Alondhra mutters something less-than-polite before the charm is piled on, a golden smile lighting up sunny features. "I prefer it here. Sometimes in the summer, it's even nice enough to wear short sleeves." If one has a deathwish.
"I'm always nice," Puo informs the other rider haughtily. "When have I ever been less than nice?" Here, a sarcastically sweet smile is flipped to S'ara. The bronzerider then seats himself in a nearby chair with a thump, nonchalant. "I've been here four years," he pronounces, "and it's never been anywhere near that warm. You're lying."

S'ara's nose wrinkles: "You'd be an idiot if you did that, Alondhra. I don't believe I've ever worn a short sleeved shirt here, at least, not very often. There are odd occasions, but none in the past few turns." She ignores Puo's comment, although spares him a withering glance.

Alondhra's nose wrinkles up, "Well...few turns...I think maybe one has to be born here." There's that brilliant smile again. "It doesn't /always/ get so cold. I think that the wind must be blowing straight in here today." She nods, damp hair finding a place to catch on her shoulder. "That must be it."

"I wouldn't /want/ to be born here," O'kano responds with a dramatic shudder. "No one who's got any little bit of brains would. Too shardin' cold." He takes a tentative sip of his drink -- it's probably klah, from the rich, dark color --, then adds, "I think you're an idiot, too."

S'ara, petulantly, "I -was- born here, and I like it, thank you very much, so keep your comments to yourself, O'kano." The brownrider snorts, crossing her arms in front of her, digits wrapping about her mug. "Oh, I don't think so. You've just get wet hair." Sensible, at least on this occasion.

Alondhra stares at O'kano, lower lip trembling. "Well...I..." She turns her head, lifting a hand to wipe something from her eye. "You can think whatever you want." Voice wavers. "It wasn't my choice."

O'kano coolly shoots back, "No one ever said you had brains, S'ara." He sniffs, then, but it's not the usual sort of Puo-sniff: there's actually a reason for this one besides disdain. He sniffs again, then complains with annoyance, "I hate this weather -- we never had colds an' all back in Boll. Jharzeth's miserable, so that makes me miserable." He spares a glance for Alondhra, expression verging on the disgusted as he snaps, "So cry about it. Do you think I care?"

S'ara doesn't have a response for that. The poor girl. So she just glowers at him, responding, "No one ever said that you had taste." Where did that come? It seems to perplex the brownrider, her brow furrowing, then she turns away, commenting to Alondhra, "Ignore him. He's always like that. I don't think he likes anyone. Except maybe Deinha."

The prelude to a good long sob ceases quicker than it began. "Oh," says Alondhra quickly, straightening up. "One of /those/."

"I have plenty of taste!" Puo retorts, transferring his attention to the brownrider and rewarding her words with a hostile glower. The dark look just deepens, then, as S'ara mentions his likes and dislikes; instead of answering, the young man lapses into bitter silence and fixes his beverage with nasty glares. But still no answer -- perhaps he's at a loss for one.

S'ara seems to be satisfied with that response, and simply shrugs, "Do you?" Alondhra earns a nod, a long sigh, "Yes, one of -those-." Glares are accepted from the bronzerider with a breazy smile.

O'kano grumbles, offended, "I am not one of those."

"Well, that's no fun at all," Alondhra says huffily. She wiggles her feet toward the fire. "So many people around here are just pure grumpiness, aren't they? Maybe they need..." She wiggles her eyebrows at S'ara. "Well, you know."

S'ara doesn't know. At least: "What do they need?" She's been one of those grumpy people in the past, and probably will be again. It's a mood thing, although Pakath's delight seems to be rubbing off on her at least to some point. "Yes, you are, O'kano."

"I am not pure grumpiness, I am not one of those people, and I don't need anything," O'kano snaps with considerable irritation, rousing from his self-imposed silence: it didn't last long. "I am perfectly fine. All I want is to be warm and to be left alone. Neither of which are happening."

Alondhra slumps down to get her feet a few inches closer to the flames. "Someone naked and warm to snuggle with, of course. I think that too few people around here are getting enough...snuggle time."

"Go and talk to Pakath, then, O'kano, and sit in the galleries. We'd love to be left alone, as well, I'm quite sure." With a long snort, S'ara returns her gaze towards Alondhra. "Er, that. I suppose. Flights are enough, for many of us." S'ara included? Well, maybe. "But you're probably right. I don't think Puke here is getting any from Deinha." Rumours, how they do fly.

Alondhra turns a half-smug, half-sympathetic look to O'nako. "That explains it. He's one of /those/, also, then? Poor thing. You'd think that his knot would at least sway a loose-skirted drudge." Hesitation, then thought. "Or maybe not. We've got some smart drudges."

"/Excuse/ me?" Puo's eyes narrow as he peers over at Alondhra. "What do you know about that?" Er. Maybe that didn't come out right. He tries again. "What do you know about what I need and what I don't and what's happening in my life? You don't even know me." Once the bronzerider hears what S'ara has to say, he flushes just a bit, though the added hue is liable to be invisible beneath his naturally dark skin-tone. Sputtering, he's not quite able to make any coherant statements for a few moments; after a hasty swallow of klah to clear his throat, he glares at S'ara and frostily states, "I am certainly not going to talk to /you/ about my personal life. Stay out of it." And for Alondhra: "I do /not/ chase people around. Especially drudges." He dismisses them with a flick of his fingers. "I have no intention of...sullying myself with weyrfolk."

S'ara's lips twitch, and she can't help but allow a giggle to escape. "Yes, he's one of those. He has -standards-, and they're too high to let him get anything." Smirk, placed in his direction, and then a seemingly innocent visage. "You don't need to talk about it. I hear a lot, you know. These things go around. How -frustrated- you must be." Cough, cough, gag.

Alondhra waves a hand dismissively, "Standards." Snort. "Standards are the beginning of the long road toward pure loneliness. First you start saying that the poor drudges aren't good enough, and the next thing you know, you swear off greenriders...what next? Heirs to major holds?"

"Shut up," Puo commands simply of S'ara. "You probably haven't heard anything that even borders on the truth. So do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut." He scowls at Alondhra next, telling her sharply, "I'm not lonely. I have Jharzeth and....and I'm not lonely. And I would /not/ pass up heirs." Almost as an afterthought -- although a lofty, smugly stated one --, he adds, "I grew up expecting to handfast one, after all. /My/ father's Lord Boll." Importance is attached to that appellation, and the way O'kano says such suggests that he thinks poorly of commonly-bred people, like he assumes Alondhra is.

"You can't tell me what to do, Puke. You don't outrank me, and I have freedom of speech." Or something similar to that. S'ara simply smiles saccharinely at the bronzerider, adding towards Alondhra, "My thought, exactly. If you want something, take what you can get. I mean...really." Thoughtfully, she adds, "And yet, Puke, you were sent here. Some Lord Holder's son, when you're not even ranked."

Alondhra seems very impressed by the revelation of O'kano's lineage. So impressed, in fact, that she stifles a yawn. "Well, /my/ father is a brownrider." Which is so much more important. A hazy smile settles on her face. "He thinks he's too good to bed with a person of my breeding?" she asks of S'ara.

"To foster good relations," Puo insists. "If Jharzeth hadn't come along, who knows where I'd be now. I spent my whole childhood learning how to be a Steward an' how to run a Hold. Lots more than either of you learned when you were kids, I bet." Annoyance flickers across his expression, and he doesn't deign to form an answer for Alondhra: it's beneath him.

S'ara smirks, making a noddish movement towards Alondhra, "I think so. I don't know why; brownriders are the best people there are. And Weyrfolk are good, too." She's of good weyrfolk stock, see. "I learnt an awful lot, thank you, O'kano. Every person has a job, and whether it has 'status' or not, it's still important."

Alondhra folds her arms. "I learned how to play with knives without causing myself grievous harm." Her grin is a little /too/ wide. "I don't see how learning to be a Hold steward helps with what you're doing now, besides. Seems to me that it was just a huge waste of time. At least us weyrbred learn how to deal with life, whether we turn out to be riders or kitchen help."

"It doesn't," O'kano returns sharply. "No one thought that I'd ever Impress. I didn't /want/ to Impress." He hesitates a minute before grudgingly adding, "Although I'm glad for Jharzeth, now. But it'd be a lot nicer if we could go live in Boll or something. And now we can't even between somewhere warm -- stupid sickness."

"If you didn't want to Impress, you shouldn't have stood." S'ara regards O'kano with a glower of sorts: "It's as simple as that. As for the sickness, it would probably be better if you feel for the dragons, rather than yourself. Pakath is dripping all over the sands, and it's -nasty-." Alondhra earns a grin: "Useful, indeed."

Alondhra wrinkles up her nose. "/Dripping/?" The mental image she has must be interesting, judging from the expression that finally settles into place. Nevermind that, though. O'kano has finally offended her. She gives him her most disgusted look. "Whine, whine, whine. I wonder if there's anything that /wouldn't/ make you surly?"

S'ara is far too confident for her own good, these days. Darn the dragon. "Deinha." Wouldn't make him surly, that is.

O'kano rolls his eyes at S'ara, drawling out, "I didn't have a choice about it. Otherwise I wouldn't have been there. It's a bit hard to refuse when you're being held in a snowbank until you say 'yes.' And Ramaki said she'd tell my father that I went back on my promise if I tried to get out of it." Puo sulkily slumps in his chair. "I do too feel for the dragons." Jharzeth, anyways. He could care less about the others. A false-sweet smile is sent Alondhra's way. "Of /course/ there's things that don't make me -- /what!?/" The rest of his sentence is lost, forgotten, as he scowls towards S'ara. "Shut up."

Alondhra snickers, "Interesting. Do you know any other tricks on how to make him more fun?"

S'ara rolls her eyes; she'll ignore the first part of O'kano's words. As to the second part, she only smirks, "No, I don't feel like it." If he can act the brat, so can she. Towards Alondhra, she shrugs, "Test him out. See what reactions you can find."

"What are you talking about?" O'kano demands. "What's this about 'making me more fun?' " Throughout it all, a wary eye is kept on S'ara. The young bronzerider finishes off the last dregs of his klah and springs to his feet. "I don't have to listen to this," he announces. "Just leave me alone and go annoy someone else." Puo stalks off, heading for the Bowl, where his sick dragon presumably awaits his arrival.

You duck down the tunnel to the Bowl.
West Bowl -- Starmount(#46RLM)
Nestled in a curve of the Bowl's sides, this wide field is a usual sunning spot for dragons. At any one time up to several dozen may be found here, if it's a very sunny, warm day -- mountains of lavishly oiled hide and wingsail apparently determined to get as much in the way as possible. Further to the west a glowlit tunnel appears to sustain heavy use -- most likely the entrance to the main living caverns of the resident Weyrfolk. East, the bowl spreads wide into the very center of the Bowl.
 
Living Cavern -- Starmount> S'ara glances after O'kano, then towards Alondhra. "Follow him. That's a sure way to make sure that you get a reaction."

Living Cavern -- Starmount> Alondhra shakes her head, "It's too cold out there to do what I was planning. I can bare leg near the fire, but...no, thanks. There are some things a girl just doesn't want frozen."

Living Cavern -- Starmount> S'ara grimaces, "No, come on. It'll be fun. Please?"

Living Cavern -- Starmount> Alondhra makes a face. "Well...fine. But only if you come, too. I've got to have /someone/ witness me do this, or I'll never be able to tell this story to the cooks in the morning." She hops up out of her chair. "That is, if they don't have hangovers again. I /hate/ it when they drink too much."

Living Cavern -- Starmount> S'ara regards Alondhra steadily, and then nods, firmly. "Good. Oh--I'm sure they won't have. If they do, complain to the Headwoman. It's a horrible waste of alcohol, and I, for one, won't stand it." Or something like that. Standing, the brownrider sets down her mug of tea, which is now half empty (or half-full, conversely), and moves towards the door.

S'ara steps out of the caverns tunnel.
Alondhra steps out of the caverns tunnel.

Alondhra heads out of the caverns, acting as if she isn't interested in O'kano in the slightest. That, of course, is why she's heading toward him.
S'ara leads the way, treading intentionally through a snow drift that hasn't yet be smoothed down, although she shivers something. "'allo again, O'kano. Fancy meeting you here."

"Are you done?" O'kano queries half-irritably of his lifemate as the big bronze sneezes, splattering gooey substance upon the ground. "Ew, ew. Please keep that head away from me -- I don't want slime all over, please." Concern mingles with the annoyance, but the sympathy soon dissolves as Jharzeth spies the arrivals and rewards them with a slightly stuffy rumble: S'ara he knows and likes, even if his lifemate doesn't. Puo pivots, hands immediately propped against hips, and he exasperatedly intones, "Go /away!/"

"Oh, good evening, Jharzeth. I hope that you are well, although from this direction, it looks to be a negative answer. Don't worry; I'm sure Pakath is just as bad, and Khavrineth was practically blowing the sands away with her sneezes." S'ara is very civil when speaking to dragons, even O'kano's, but to his rider, she just can't manage the same treatment. "Why? It's a free bowl."

Alondhra ignores the bronzerider, stepping even closer. The chill of the snow and wind doesn't even seem to have an effect on her. The sneeze seems to startle her. Maybe she /won't/ move any closer than this. "I can walk wherever I want," she calls to O'kano.

O'kano doesn't really have a good retort for S'ara, so he just glares and generally looks mean and unpleasant. Jharzeth proceeds to drip over his surroundings, the odd sneeze interjected every now and then. The darkly-hued bronze turns his attention to the unknown Alondhra, possibly just for the sake of contrariness, for Puo explosively shoots at his dragon, "She is /not/ that interesting. Let's go, okay?" A pause; a likely reprimand from the bronze recieves a half-hearted, "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. Whatever."

S'ara's ears prick up. "Interesting? Jharzeth?" She's curious, and, perfectly calmly, sends a glance back and forth between Alondhra and the bronze. "Interesting, indeed."

Alondhra calls out in protest, "Hey! Just because you don't like me doesn't mean that you can get your dragon to sneeze on me."

"Anything I don't like -- including you and /her/ -- he does," O'kano complains. He rolls his eyes at Alondhra, snapping, "He'll sneeze on you if he wants to." Jharzeth doesn't seem particularily inclined to sneeze on anyone, though, for he thoughtfully turns his head, splattering little droplets of nose-gunk, and sneezes in the opposite direction. "If you're done," Puo addresses the bronze, "I'd like to go." Jharzeth, though, prefers to hunker down and peaceably rest his head upon his forelegs. << Apologize. >>

"Ignore the bronzerider; Jharzeth's not like that, most of the time." S'ara is oh-so-wise about this. Then again, she was assistant weyrlingmaster for his clutch. So she's even slightly in the know. Putting one hand upon her hip, and wrapping the other about her middle, in some attempt to keep herself warm, the brownrider watches. Amused. Most definately amused.

Alondhra rolls her eyes. "Well, this is pointless," she says to S'ara. "How am I supposed to surprise him if he's got a weapon? Well, not a weapon, but....I don't have something much larger than me that can sneeze all over him. And even if I did.../ew/."

Unless Jharzeth has a temper-tantrum. But those aren't too common. "No." << Yes. >> "No." << /Yes./ >> "Brat," Puo grumbles, directing his comment at the dragon. "Shardin' stupid dragon-brat." << /You/ are the brat. Whiny brat and I am ashamed of you and you had better apologize. >> Jharzeth takes his attention from Alondhra long enough to fix a stern look upon O'kano as he delivers the words privately; with a melodramatic sigh, the young man tosses out his unrepentant words: "Sorry." << You didn't mean that... >> The argument subsides into silence, on Puo's part, and after several exchanged glares and glowers, O'kano peers towards Alondhra and states again, "Sorry. And I feel sorry for you, too -- Jhar's cold has affected his thinking and he wants you to stick around in the candidate barracks." Just don't think Puo's happy about it or anything.

S'ara's face breaks into a smile: "I knew it. Well done, Jharzeth. And congratulations, Alondhra."

Alondhra, however, doesn't look all that thrilled. "It's colder in there. And louder. And. Well." She huffs. "Only if it means that I don't have to deal with the stupid cooks in the morning."

S'ara just grins. "Good! That's great, isn't it, O'kano? Isn't it?" Giving up, without a real fight, the brownrider turns, "But, excuse me. I've things to do, and dragons to look after, and I really do want some sleep. Good night!"
O'kano doesn't look thrilled either. "Just say yes so he'll take me back to my weyr," gripes the bronzerider. "I don't care what you do in the morning." Jharzeth, on the other hand, looks quite pleased with himself.

Alondhra nods, "Well. Okay then."

"Follow me," O'kano snaps unhappily, and strides off towards the caverns without waiting to see if Alondhra follows or not.