Away from Jharzeth, Kilari makes her way out, a small, pink, fuzzy ball in one hand, the other rested on Kuasyth's neck. She heaves a sigh, and lowers herself to a crouch, patting her thigh with her non-fuzzypinkball holding hand. "Paw, Kuas," she mutters. Kuasyth whuffs and lifts one forepaw, settling it down on her 'mate's thigh. Kilari starts tugging at the green's talons, pulling out wisp after wisp of pink fuzzy. "I told you we shouldn't have put that blanket there. Try and sharpen your talons, and you get hair all over them," 'Lari grumbles, stuffing those wisps into the pink ball. << But...I like pink, >> comes the wistful response.

Away from Jharzeth, Jharzeth settles lightly in the weyrling field with minimal jolting, which brings an appreciative murmur from the rider perched atop his neck. As the bronze whuffs his friendly greetings to the others present, O'kano busies himself with unbuckling straps and freeing himself from the protective leathers. When that task is done, the young man scrambles down while Jharzeth helpfully crouches to lessen the distance between neck and ground.

T'ela finishes fiddling with Shepoth's straps, sending the brown off with an affectionate slap against his midsection. Turning, an eyebrow is quirked at the very first irregularity - Kilari and that fuzzy pink ball. Striding over to the pair, she demands rather loudly, "Kilari, what in Faranth's name is *that*?" At Shepoth's bland rumble towards the bronze pair, she glances over her shoulder to nod before turning back to Kilari and Kuasyth. "And *why* is Kuasyth covered in it?" Ah yes, lovely brownrider just comes on duty, and is already picking on the weyrlings.

Kilari continues plucking pink wisps away from Kuasyth's talons, in between her 'toes' and anywhere else the color pink is even visible. Kuasyth in turn extends her muzzle to snort gently at the pink ball, sending it blowing outwards, and almost right off Kilari's hand. But, in the nick of time, that hand's fingers close tightly around the fuzz, and 'Lari shakes her head. "Of all the things to put up with," she mumbles, then blinks when Jharzeth lands, offering a polite nod to O'kano. She has to, afterall. T'ela too gets a nod, but a smile accompanies hers, and 'Lari just sighs. "Pink fuzzy, ma'am." As if that would explain -everything-. "Kuasyth insisted I cover her couch in this...pink, fuzzy blanket at nights. I forgot to take it off this morning, and she sharpened her claws on her couch, and..." 'Lari flicks her fingers at Kuasyth's talons. "Pink fuzzies."

O'kano's returning nod is polite enough, and look -- Puo even cracks a faint, cordial smile. Only a faint one, though. Kilari and the pink fuzz attracts his attention, then, and he approaches the others with curiousity and no little bemusement. "Don't forget next time," he advises, rolling his eyes once.

T'ela folds her arms across her chest, peering at the fuzzies. "Perhaps," is offered slowly with a dry tone, "you should get another blanket. That's not fuzzy like that." A glance and faint smile are directed towards O'kano as she nods an agreement. "Or don't forget. I'd have to have to say you couldn't use a blanket because you're not responsible enough."

Kilari peers up at O'kano when he approaches, and offers a smallish sort of smile. "Noted, sir. I've been pretty good about it all the other times, though." Kuasyth looks up at T'ela when she speaks, eyes fully unlidded for once, the colors in them swirling quickly. << But...I enjoy it. >> More wistful tones, there. Kilari strokes her free hand down her lifemate's muzzle in a comforting sort of way, eyes holding a tender look. "Perhaps, ma'am. I'll remember next time...she really does love that blanket. Not much that makes her excited, afterall."

"If you end up picking fuzzy things out of her talons each morning," O'kano puts in, "I'd say that you're definitely not responsible enough." He pulls a face and glances back towards where Jharzeth lounges, adding in an undertone, "Jharzeth'd kill me if he caught me with a fuzzy pink blanket." And the sentiment also applies for Puo, or so one'd assume from the mildly disgusted look upon his face.

T'ela eyes Kuasyth, sizing up the little green, then shakes her head. "You shouldn't give in to everything she likes. It isn't healthy." A snicker, and voice fills with agreement. "Shepoth would have me reported for finally going all the way off the deep end. There's no *way*..." She doesn't finish, but eyes the fuzz once more. "Just be sure it doesn't happen again, no matter what you have to do, alright?"

Kuasyth, upon being eyed, eyes right back, one set of 'lids slowly drooping closed. Then her head starts to lower...lower...*flop*. Then she's on the ground. Kilari, blinking in more then mild surprise, snaps her attention thataway, and sighs. "There she goes again. And I -know- I shouldn't give in...but it's only a blanket." Only a pink, fuzzy, rather annoying blanket. She nods in response to T'ela's words, and even smiles again. "Yes, ma'am. I won't forget to take it down next time, that's for sure. And she's a rather...odd dragon, so the fact that she even likes pink fuzzy blankets isn't too surprising."

O'kano is a fine example of what happens when one's every wish is granted. And it's doubtful that Kilari would want Kuasyth to turn out anything like Puo. Hypocritical and completely unaware of it, the bronzerider concurs with T'ela's conclusion with a sharp nod. "Certainly not." The slumbering green is eyed for a moment before he mentions, "Might want to wake her up and move her to her couch. It probably wouldn't help her health to have her sleeping out here, in the cold."

T'ela blinks right back at the green, a faint smile flitting across her face as she falls asleep. Clearing her throat, she directs an agreement: "Might want to; cold's horrible for a new oiling job. And don't forget the blanket this time?" Shepoth lumbers a few steps closer, humming softly towards the little green. Brown eyes roll as Tae flicks a hand at the dragon. "Stop it, Shep. She's not a baby."

Kilari wouldn't, of course, want Kuasyth anything like anyone other then who she is now. Kuasyth, oblivious to the fact everyone's talking about her, and equally oblivious to Shepoth, slumbers on. Kilari nods to both 'riders, the corners of her lips turning downwards in a small frown. "It -is- kind of cold. C'mon, love." She nudged a hand against green hide, which only gets a small rumble from Kuasyth. Oh bother. Kilari continues nudging, that frown turning into one of faint annoyance. "Perhaps easier said then done," she mutters. But then, after a couple moments of being nudged, Kuasyth's eyelids slide halfway open, and she heaves herself promptly to her feet, shuffle-sauntering Barracks-wards. "Well then."

T'ela swats away Shepoth's head as the brown makes to nudge Kuasyth, who then turns and pushes up against T'ela with an offended rumble. Brownrider stumbles - hey, his head is nearly as big as *she* is - and directs a scowl right back at the dragon. "Leave *off*, Shepoth." Deliberately turning away, she shooes Kilari in towards the barracks, offering disgruntedly, "Tell her she's not going to get fed until she gets inside. That *always* got my walking stomach moving."

Kilari turns a rather confused look onto brownrider and dragon, one eyebrow lifted. "What's up with him?" she asks, that confusion seeping into her voice. At the shooing, 'Lari blinks, and nods slowly. "Riiight." She turns to face Kuasyth, and cups her hands 'round her mouth, to better vocalize the shout she directs green's way. "You're not gonna get fed until you get into those Barracks, Kuas!" Kuasyth, upon hearing that, turns her head to snort at her 'mate, but her pace doesn't quicken. She soon enough disappears into the Barracks, and Kilari plants hands on hips. "Guess this means I have to go in too."

O'kano watches with hands perched casually upon hips; he covers up a small snicker at Shepoth's antics with a cough, then peers back towards the green and her weyrling. "Never seen a dragon that doesn't want food," he comments once the 'coughing-fit' is over. "She /is/ odd."

T'ela does her darned best to ignore the huge brown head that hovers just over her, though from the wince its rather hard to ignore something that has a direct link to yell at you within your head. "Up with--? Oh. Who knows." From the too-casual shrug, she knows darn well, but isn't *about* to say anything. "Did you just feed her?" Kilari is studied before a snort is forthcoming. "She's not moving because you don't *mean* it. Next time she does that... don't feed her. That'll show her you mean business." Shepoth all but growls, nudging T'ela none-too-gently again. "*Knock* it off, Shep! I'm *busy*!"

Kilari flicks her eyes to O'kano, and nods. "Told ya. You should just listen to some of the stuff she's-" pause. Rememberance fleets across her features, and she grins. "That's right. You -have- heard that stuff." Heh. As for T'ela, her and her 'mate get another confused look. "Oh, I -did- just feed her, actually. Right before the fuzz incident. And...are you -sure- I should deprive her like that? What if she...gets mad at me?" Scaaary. At Shepoth's growl, she blinks and steps away from the dragon. "Aaalright." <repose!>

"I have," O'kano conceeds. "Jharzeth went on about how he wanted to try a two-headed avain for days -- until he forgot." Again, the bronzerider rolls his eyes, then shoots a vaguely puzzled glance towards T'ela and her lifemate. After a moment's consideration of the brown's strange behavior, Puo just shrugs his shoulders and returns his attention to Kilari. "It'll get the point across," he notes. "And it's not like you'd be depriving her for very long or anything."

T'ela whirls and all but snarls at the brown, "Go *away*! I don't have *time* for your games right now, Shepoth!" The brown rumbles once more, disapprovingly, then gives an injured sniff and turns away, though he makes sure Tae gets thwaped by his tail. Turning back, she mutters under her breath about a sharding dragon, eyeing both the weyrling and bronzerider. "What?" A moment is taken to catch herself up before she nods. "She won't starve if she misses a meal by a few hours. Might do her some good."

Kilari snickers at that, and rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. "Yes...two-headed avians. What an imagination, hm? All she had to do was get the image from my head." As for both 'lingmasters, she just nods slowly, albeit a bit reluctantly. "Oh, if you're -sure-. I'll try it out next time. And ma'am, what -was- he doing?" She lifts a hand to gesture at the retreating brown, and winces at the tailthwak. She knows what -that- feels like, unfortunately. Oy.

O'kano , all innocence, peers back at T'ela and simply responds, "Nothing." Lie, lie. He shoots a glance towards Kilari, wondering, "Just what were you doing with a two-headed avian in your head, anyways? Or maybe I don't want to know that."

T'ela folds her arms more firmly across her chest, lips twitching in a devout effort not to snap at the dragon for the final resort, though she does press a hand against her side angrily. "Might do him good." Eyes narrow faintly as she mutters, "Being a spoiled wher-head. As usual. *Do* try and train yours better?" O'kano is slitted a look at before she nods. "Good."

Kilari walks into the weyrling barracks.

"Why?" O'kano can't resist asking the question. "What's he doing that's making him into a spoiled wher-head?" An absent nod is directed after Kilari, but the majority of his attention rests upon the not-quite-normal acting Shepoth.

"Because!" Tae snaps rather childishly, barely resisting the temptation to turn and follow the brown's progress across the field. "He's nosy and pushy and a *menace*." Kilari is watched as she goes off on the same path her lifemate had. "Bothering me to do things *he* wants to do all the time."

"Fine!" O'kano isn't one to enjoy being snapped at for no particular reason, even if he does so himself a lot, so his tone is rather irritable as he responds. "Don't get mad at /me/ because of what your dragon's doing. I didn't do anything."

T'ela bites back an equally vicious retort, forcibly smoothing her face into more reasonable lines. Yet a hint of rancor remains as she snorts. "I'm *not* mad at *you*. You know sharding well what would happen if I was mad at *you*." There's that ever-lovely side of Tae that likes to hit people resurfacing for just a moment. Turning away, she exhales through clenched teeth. "He hasn't left me be for a sevenday now. I think I'm going to kill him..." A rider killing her dragon - what a novel idea!

More exasperation enters Puo's tone as he shoots back, "How'm I supposed to know? You're...unpredictable." And he'd rather ask than have bruises. O'kano mutters something that's probably not too nice under his breath before asking, "Why? Is there a reason? Or is he just being awful just...because?"

T'ela is most definately unpredictable -- unstable, too. But a remorseful expression sweeps over as she looks up at the bronzerider, mumbling something along the lines of, "Sorry." A twitch of the eyebrows, a fighting down of the demons that live within, and she all but gushes, "He's worried and when he gets worried he turns into *such* a milkmother and won't leave me alone for a minute and I'll bet he went home and is breaking things right now." Of course the brown is doing no such thing - he's lounging on the edge of the field, just biding his time.

"Yeah. Whatever." Puo brushes off the apology with a shrug; they make him uncomfortable. The bronzerider shifts from one foot to another, unable to resist posing one more query. "So? Why's he worried?" Or is that a question that O'kano doesn't want answered? He thinks of that a minute later and shoots a calculating glance towards where Jharzeth waits, judging the distance should he need to beat a hasty retreat.

T'ela stubs a boot toe against the ground, looking up at the sky as she insists rather loudly, "I am an *adult* and I can make my *own* decisions." Riiight. As if that had anything to do with anything. Suddenly shrewd brown eyes refocus on O'kano. "Because he likes to worry?" A hint of color enters her cheeks as she looks away, offering more softly, "Its his job to. He keeps me..." Safe? *Sane*? "... me."

"Oh. Okay." O'kano is satisfied with that answer and doesn't pry further; or, more likely, he's probably afraid to dig deeper and end up knowing more than he wants to. Or with sore spots. He does cough once, though, at T'ela's first insistance, covering up what sounds suspiciously similar to a snicker. "If you say so."

T'ela would narrow eyes at O'kano, except she's far too caught up in her tirade against her lifemate. "He think *he* knows what's good for *me*. He's a *dragon*! He can chase whenever he sharding well feels like it, and who would care!" The tip of the boot that had been tapping against the ground falters as she stumbles a half-pace forward, eyes widening in surprise, then turns over her shoulder to snap, "I *felt* that, wherry head!" A sulky glance back at O'kano, then, "Its not funny.."

O'kano schools his expression and swallows the next snicker before it emerges, remarking, "I didn't say it was." It's said that curiousity killed the feline; maybe it's about to kill Puo, too. "What's chasing got to do with mothering?" he wonders, mostly to himself.

T'ela is *not* going to tell O'kano anything, she's not going to say anything, she's not-- "Everything," is the sulky reply, though after a hasty glance up at the bronzerider, "Nothing..." is tagged on in its place. "He's not all there." He might not be the only one not completely there...

O'kano would take his words back if it were possible as embarrassment sets in and adds a pinkish tint to his wind-reddened cheeks -- he didn't mean to say that outloud, or for T'ela to hear. "Er. Um. Okay." He shoots a somewhat puzzled look towards the brown, adding, "I coulda told you that myself." Jharzeth, meanwhile, picks up on his lifemate's confusion and rumbles over at Shepoth.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth's curiousity shades ruddy orange as he extends one searching thought: << Whatever did you say to make yours so...unhappy? >> to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth is all but a whirling sandstorm - far unusual for the calm brown. << She does not listen to me. I know how to help her. She does not wish to listen to me. >> A rather self-assured swirl, then: << But she will. In time. >> to Jharzeth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth slides in a sedate ribbon of silver-shot azure, winding his next inquiry amidst the blue-hued strands. << How would you help her? Mine needs help -- he always does -- and I can always use ideas. >> to Shepoth

T'ela pretends she doesn't see the blush - she's good at that, pretending. "Hey!" Nobody insults her lifemate but her! A mildly sarcastic tone overshades the sulkiness -- unhappiness -- beneath. "He thinks that's the answer to everything. The wise, all-knowing Shepoth."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth allows his thoughts to calm - we mustn't present the wrong front - and forcibly reveals a strand of verdance. << Mating flights. They are always an acceptable answer, you know. >> A hint of confusion stirs up golden sands once more. << Though she insists it is not applicable. >> to Jharzeth

O'kano insults everyone and everything -- it's his specialty. "Dragons are like that," he grumbles, slanting an annoyed look towards his own lifemate. "Ignore him?" he suggests. "Sometimes that works." Not in Puo's case, but maybe it works for others.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth takes that into consideration and eventually poses a thoughtful question: << That'd help people? Hm. Maybe I'll suggest that to mine -- >> A pause, then he adds regretfully, << He didn't like that very much. >> to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth rumbles sagely. << Perhaps you had better not... >> Too late. << I did not think he would. I was not aware that yours thought in those terms. >> A precious stream of green-flanked blue emerges. << It is very important to mine. Though impossible. >> to Jharzeth

T'ela sets her jaw in a defiant jut, determined not to look at Shepoth no matter how badly the urge shows in the twitches of her head back towards that direction. "I can't. He's... loud. I'm *not* listening!" is insisted in a louder tone before she eases back some. "I really do wish he'd just stop... he's only making things worse."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth doesn't follow, and his metallic-edged shaft of cerulean withers away. << Mine thinks in what turns? And what's important? And why's it impossible? >> to Shepoth

"But usually it doesn't work very well," O'kano finishes bleakly. "Never works for me." Indeed, he shoots a foul look Jharzeth's way, who only rumbles in a innocent manner. He quirks a half-grin, commenting, "Those weyrlings who thought dragons were all-perfect should learn about how annoying they can be."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth withdraws behind a veil of whirling tan, collecting himself, and then offers. << The terms more of what one... weyrbred would think in. >> He's trying to be diplomatic, really he is. << It is important to her. I know not why, but I am not enough. The third half, she tells me. I do not understand, but... >> A trickle of laughter. << I do not do things such as that, so it is impossible. >> to Jharzeth

T'ela sighs softly. "Its our curse - loudmouthed dragons that *don't know how to shut up*." Clearing her throat, she makes to touch O'kano's arm, hesitates, and withdraws. "Do you know what would be horribly nice right about now?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth is only further confused, and tries to untangle the roseate webbing of thought. << Mine acts like he's weyrbred? >> No, that's not right. << It's important to your rider that mine acts like he's weyrbred? >> Then, the pragmatic side of the bronze shows as he adds, << It's impossible for there to be three halves. That doesn't exist. >> to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth looks to be mildly amused by the younger dragon's thoughts, as the whirling slows a pace. << No no no. Yours is far to holdbred to understand. Mine and yours think in different ways; I don't think yours could ever behave as one weyrbred. >> A hint of petulance, rock-solid beneath the cloud of sand, intrudes. << I did not say it - mine did. She is not reasonable. But she insists on three halves. >> to Jharzeth

"Big fat wherry," O'kano mutters irritably, which elicits a hurt sound from Jharzeth. << I am not a wherry, >> the bronze informs pointedly; Puo just rolls his eyes. "Only wherries are so stupid." As Jharzeth protests again, his rider turns his attention back to T'ela, noting the aborted movement but choosing not to comment. Instead, he asks, "What?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth doesn't think so either, and is considerably relieved that that's not what's expected of his lifemate. << No, probably not, >> he agrees. << Mine would have to hit his head pretty hard for that. >> Perplexity reenters in the jumbled mess of varicolored ribbons, then, and he points out, << Two halves make a whole. Not three. I don't get it. >> to Shepoth

T'ela blinks at something, this time not able to avoid turning to eye Shepoth. "A... hammer? What? " Snorting, she turns back around. "They're all wherries. Horrible, horrible wherries." An impersonation of a crooked smile appears as she offers, "A drink. A nice drink. The 'Lizard has the best wines.." Hopeful turns her smile - it can be pathetic when she's hopeful, really. "To take our minds off of the wherry-heads we've been stuck with?"

"Horrible wherries," O'kano agrees, making a face at the big bronze who only rumbles, taking offense. He misses the hammer comment and dismisses it rather than try to puzzle it out from what little information Jharzeth's passing along; it's futile. T'ela's suggestion is taken into consideration, and he begins, "Well..." Hesitating, Puo changes his mind and nods once. "I don't normally drink much, but...it sounds good right now."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth absorbs the information with a swirl of ecru agreement. << Hit his head, yes, >> is repeated hurriedly. << Let me see... >> He withdraws a moment, then returns. << This is what I understand: I am half and she is half and together we are two halves. Yes? >> That much makes sense to the brown, though he's awfully hesitant on the next part. << But she believes there is *another* half missing. I am only.. part of a half? Or she is only part of a half? I don't understand either. >> to Jharzeth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth didn't mean that his rider needed his head hit, and hastens to correct what might have been misinterpreted. << Mine is fine like he is -- he's just different than yours. I don't think he'll ever change /that/ much. >> Then, moving on, he ponders the problem of the three halves and eventually suggests, << Maybe you're really thirds? Or maybe the half she's looking for is different from your half? >> to Shepoth

T'ela would beam if she were into that whole happy... thing. Instead, the smile grows a bit in its lopsided way as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "I can't--- don't want much, either." Is hastily amended with another glance at the brown, who happens to be paying no physical attention to her at all. "Just a little." Nose is wrinkled at Shepoth as she offers, "Should we go before they offer any more wonderful insights? It helps to fuzz him out, a bit. Which is, of course, the beauty of getting blind-drunk after a flight. Takes away the frustration." Little pearls of wisdom hidden in her ramblings? Perhaps.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth has to agree with that. << It might cause pain, the head-hitting. Something to be avoided. Though... would yours consider hitting mine in the head? Perhaps that might help. >> Blasphemous, a dragon plotting against his lifemate. Simply blasphemous. << Thirds.... no, not thirds. But different halves.. >> He mulls over that in a sudden splash of green fronds. << That is insightful, Jharzeth. Very much so. >> to Jharzeth

"Just a little," Puo agrees carefully. "Yeah, it'd probably be a nice thing to have him a little fuzzed at times." Like now. He nods, then, replying, "We should. It's /cold/ here, anyways." And O'kano isn't known to like being cold very much. "Do you want to...lead the way?" He then grimaces at the mention of flights, grumbling, "I don't like those things. At all." Bad memories, from his expression and tone.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth fades out while he poses the question of his rider, then returns to his earlier vermilion shading with a regretful hint in his mindvoice. << He won't do that. I think he doesn't want to be hit back. >> Pride -- but not the conceited kind -- makes an appearance as he responds, << Thank you. I try to help. >> Even if it doesn't really make that much sense to him. to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth swirls surprise that the question was actually asked. << I did not think... another one of the differences. Yours is certainly not weyrbred. I do not know if mine would hit back. She might. >> There's amusement at that, too, for an image slips loose of T'ela hitting Shepoth to her hearts content without causing so much as a bruise. << You are a wonderful good help. I understand better, now, what she wants. It is still confusing, though, her thoughts. >> to Jharzeth

T'ela isn't a big fan of cold either - but then, she's absolutely dressed at her warmest. A second's pause, then she strikes out towards the living cavern at a brisk walk. "Horrible," is the vague agreement. "I've not once had a flight that turned out well." Not to say that Shepoth hasn't *won*, exactly... "But that's no matter. We.. moved on."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth doesn't understand why he might not ask, but he lets it pass with a physical roll of his shoulders that might even pass as a shrug. << I don't want mine to get hit again, either. He wasn't happy. >> After an amused rumble, he remarks absently, << I can't figure out what mine wants. Neither can he, I think. >> to Shepoth

O'kano follows after a moment's pause in which he glowers over at his bronze, hissing, "Shut up." A shudder is given, and the young man intones, "Me neither." But he doesn't go into details, and only quickens his pace.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth grumbles disconcertedly. << Yours had best not drink much. Mine might have good intentions.. but she knows I cannot reach her in that *place*. >> The Tipsy Lizard is limned in disapproving black. << Have a care. >> Nebulous amusement sparks. << I don't think any know what they want; the are not capable. >> to Jharzeth

T'ela doesn't press the bronzerider for information, but rather quickens her pace yet more to something near a trot. "One day..." But the sentence isn't finished; indeed, she flushes just a little bit that she said anything at all.
T'ela has left.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth rumbles his assurances, confidence with his lifemate brimming in his tone. << He won't. He never has, except maybe once or twice. But those were...different. >> Ie: flights. << But I will pass it on. >> to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth stills, flat mahogony rock underlying his trust for the bronze, if not for his lifemate. << Those do not count. They are not important. Mine will have a care now, too, I think. I have told her so. >> to Jharzeth

Glows shine bright in holders on every wall, lightening this deep, half-finished cavern to near-daylight glow. Weyrfolk of every kind mingle here to laugh and talk, drinking to their hearts' content of the fairly wide stock. The owner of the tavern, Malkin, serves out drinks, handing over mugs of klah, ale (a tavern specialty), wines imported from Benden, Tillek, and other places, as well as a number of far more exotic, special-mix drinks either exclusive to the Lizard or garnered from outside sources. Food's available too, in huge quantities: meatrolls, stew, bread, sandwiches, and just about everything else. Even firelizards, as namesakes of the tavern, aren't chased off, and often a well-behaved one receives a tidbit of fresh herdbeast or wherry.

The Lizard was closed for a long time after the Hold's collapse, the original destroyed, but Malkin's finally managed to snag himself a large enough cavern to recreate it -- and the crowds he's attracted suggest it'll stay in business for quite some time yet.

T'ela brushes past the curtain and straight towards the nearest empty table, settling down into a seat. A handy drudge is flagged down with a gesture, and recognition is apparent on the faces of several other servers-- perhaps she's a regular here. And to judge from the frowns intersped among the thin crowd, not the most popular of visitors.

O'kano enters hesitantly, pausing once he's past the curtain to peer around at the other occupants. He starts back up a minute later, following T'ela to the table. He, too, chooses a chair to seat himself in, and fingers lightly tap the table's surface as the drudge approaches. "What -- what's good?" he inquires of the brownrider. "Do you want to pick something out for me? I don't come here often."

T'ela is oblivious to any and all unpleasant looks she might be receiving - or at least, she's pretending to be oblivious. "Good? Well... do you mean *strong* good or... just good?" Pressing her lips together, she considers, then orders, "Bring a glass-- no, a bottle of Telgar red. Two glasses." She sends the drudge away, then smiles faintly at O'kano. "Its not bad stuff. Kind of sweet. Not too strong, either. At least... usually..."

O'kano is used to nasty looks, so if any are sent his way as well due to his less than pristine reputation, they don't draw his attention. Whatever answer the bronzerider was about to give to T'ela's question is stalled and swallowed as she orders, and he only nods. "Oh. Okay. Sounds good?" A quick flicker of mixed amusement and alarm crosses his expression on the last phrase, but Puo doesn't inquire about what circumstances might make the wine stronger than normal.

T'ela folds her hands on the table while she waits, lounging back in her seat. "Its been a good sevenday since I've been back here." And from the tone of her voice, apparently that's a long time. "You'll like it. Its not too... win-ey. You'll see." Something is muttered under her breath, though, about somebody 'spiking' something. "It should be fine."

"Longer, for me," O'kano remarks in an attempt to lighten the mood and ease his own nervousness, quirking a half-grin. "I will? Good. Because I didn't come here to get something I won't like." Any comments about spiking go unheard, and Puo settles back into his chair, lightly crossing his arms over his chest.

T'ela allows another lopsided grin - or at least, a part of one, to spread across her face. "They never dissapoint you here..." A faint scowl intrudes, "Unless a certain dragon tells them not to. Sharding wherry. But he *swore* he wouldn't do that again. Its... embarrasing." Indeed, she colors faintly just with the telling of it. "You'll like it." A breath later, and the drudge scampers back, a wine bottle and a pair of glasses on a tray. The bottle is opened, a glass set and filled before Tae and another before O'kano, and then he scampers off once more.

"Maybe he won't since I'm here, too, and I don't plan on...drinking a lot," O'kano offers helpfully. When the drudge returns with wine in hand, Puo, sidetracked, glances at his glass suspiciously. "You're sure it's good?" No poison? "Hmm -- it doesn't /look/ so bad." Fingers sneak out to gently clasp the stem of his wineglass, but the bronzerider doesn't drink yet.

"It'll be fine." T'ela eyes the glass for a moment, then curls her fingers around the stem, lifts it, and sniffs it. A giggle follows as she admits, "I never knew understood why you do that. It all smells to same." A wry grin - a true one, this time - and then she holds out her glass and offers, "To wherry-headed dragons who don't know how to mind their own business?"

"If you say so..." Puo still harbors a little mistrust for the contents of his glass, but he brings it nearer neverless and eyes the wine thoughtfully. A little laugh emerges after T'ela's wine connoisseur display, and he suggests, "Maybe it's just for show." The bronzerider then mimics the toast, raising his own glass some. "To wherry-headed dragons," O'kano echoes.

T'ela chuckles softly, then brings the wine up and sips at it. Slowly. A pause and arched eyebrow later, she sets the glass down and grins. "Maybe. But it *is* better than it smells." Another sip is taken before she sets the glass down to judge O'kano's reaction. "Telgar red is better than Benden's any day. It's sweeter... and not as strong."

"It is?" O'kano, surprised, pauses before the glass makes it all the way to his lips and holds it half-raised. "I've always heard that Benden was better, and I haven't tried enough wine to form my own judgement on it." A moment later, he remembers to take a sip -- a small one -- and nods once, appreciative. "It /is/ good. And definitely better than it smells."

T'ela somehow looks relieved that the wine wasn't completely rejected, and chuckles softly in reply. "That's what you hear -- harpers out to poison your mind. Its not true. Benden's too thin; it tastes like drinking grape-flavored water." Another, longer sip is taken from her glass is taken as she studies the liquid. "Nothing like a strong Telgar... or a not-quite-as-strong one, I suppose. Stronger years have more flavor, though."

"I'm lucky that you're here to keep me away from the bad Benden stuff, then," O'kano responds, half-teasing. "Faranth knows what I would've ordered." A slightly larger drink is taken from his glass, and Puo pulls a small face, then explains it away as, "Too much, there. It is kind of strong..." Stronger than he'd expected, anyhow. "But good." He ponders the idea of an ever stronger Telgar vintage, then decides, "I think I'd rather stick to stuff that's not as strong, even if it's not as flavorful."

T'ela wrinkles her nose as she takes another sip and ends up draining about half the glass. "That's what I'm here for. I can tell you exactly what to stay away from." Bronzerider is eyed with a mild grin. "Especially if you're not used to this. Go and drink the wrong thing, and you'll end up sick." She speaks with the surety of unfortunate experience - but she doesn't seem too much bothered by the alcohol anymore as she takes another slow sip. "That's alright. Start you out easy. This is good enough. Somewhere in the middle of the extremes, I think."

O'kano makes a face in the middle of a nice, cautious sip of the beverage. "Ugh. I'd rather not be sick," he declares after swallowing. "I've done that before -- not my idea of fun." Maybe that's why he generally stays away from any sort of liquor. Eyebrows lift at the final comments as an unspoken thought crosses Puo's mind: is T'ela planning to make a drinker out of him? He doesn't ask, though, and only says, "This is fine for me."

T'ela fights down a grin as she refills her glass, though she pauses before drinking again. "Its not fun at all," is the definate agreement. "Especially when you have a dragon raving at you about being stupid and threatening to carry you by your belt down to the infirmary." A vaguely sentimental sigh, though and she adds, "But I love him, all the same. Couldn't live without him... can't live with him, but couldn't live without him." The wineglass is simply held for a while, observed distantly. "I'm sure it is. You don't ever need any more than a good Telgar unless you're *looking* to get drunk, you know."

O'kano grimaces sympathetically and allows, "That part hasn't happened to me." Probably because the only times Puo's ever had enough to get sick were after flights, and Jharzeth wasn't exactly in his right mind, either. He nods in accord, then, and voices his concurrance: "It's the same for me. He's always picking at me to be nicer, politer...but I wouldn't be able to survive without him, even if he can be a wherry." He rolls his eyes. "I'd rather not get drunk anytime soon, I think."

"Exactly. He just needs to get his own life... find a green or something, and just go curl up for a few sevendays. Then he'd understand better." T'ela giggles softly - an unusual sound from the brownrider, to say the least - and brings her glass up to drink, though she never actually does. "The first time I did it, I was a candidate, actually. We had a competition -- Jess, Myca and I, I think, to see who could last the longest." A grin is flashed as she remarks, "I lost. Big time. I was so sick the next day I couldn't even move. I didn't know how they did it." A drink is taken this time, though, and a long one. "Now I do."

"Maybe," O'kano concedes with a small chuckle, "but somehow I think that even that wouldn't change him all that much. But what about Shepoth? He could always find a green." He tries another taste and, finding it to his liking, takes another. "Ugh. That sounds awful." Here, he makes a face. "I wouldn't have joined in. Or lasted, for that matter."

T'ela shakes her head ruefully, wrapping both hands around the stem of the glass and resting them on the table once more. "Sure he could... though he hasn't had the best luck in flights lately. And if he found a green, he wouldn't have the time to control me." A wink is directed towards the bronzerider. "But it was fun. We had a lot of fun, actually, doing things we weren't supposed to. Jess and Myca were the worst." Chuckling, she acknowledges the admission with a nod. "Even Rik-- R'io wouldn't. We almost got ourselves kicked out of candidacy. At least Drekyn understood." But she's not even going to get *started* on Drekyn - she might just start drinking in eanest. "You never did anything as... bad, I guess... as that when you were a candidate, did you." That last is followed up with a curious lilt and a draught of wine.

"Oh." O'kano doesn't press, choosing instead to move on -- flights aren't his favorite subject, anyways. "Fun? I don't see how that can be fun." He snorts. "I bet you did. It's surprising that you guys weren't shipped back to wherever you came from." A quick shake of his head follows as, all innocence, he queries, "Me? Of course not. I only skipped all my chores. And yelled at Tamial." Impudence characterizes the grin that slides onto Puo's countenance. "She even went down to Boll to talk to my father about it."

T'ela finishes off her glass, then sits it down without making a move to refill it. "They couldn't have - they'd end up shipping off a quarter of the class if they did. We were a bunch of monsters." And most of them aren't now? "That's not fun, just laziness." A sly grin slips across her face at that. "You were deprived as a candidate, I think. You didn't cotshare like Myca and Jess, you didn't learn to get drunk, you didn't pull any major, horrid pranks... you only got in trouble." Glass is fidled with idly as she chuckles. "She *did*? My... what did you do to get her that upset at you?"

"Sounds like it," O'kano comments. He sniffs, then, replying, "It was not just laziness. I didn't want to do them -- so I didn't." Simple as that. "Deprived? No -- spared, more like, of things like that." Indeed, he looks rather scandalized at the mention of the cotsharing. The last of his own wine is drank, and the bronzerider places it upon the tabletop, hands settling into lap. "Um. The usual?" he offers. "She wanted to make me go back to Boll, I think. And I wanted to go. But my father convinced her to let me stay because he...didn't want me to get my way." Here, Puo's tone shades into uncomfortability. "I wasn't happy about it."

T'ela can be sympathetic if she wants to be, and that sympathy is currently underwritten in her tone, shadowed by and filled out with good humor, for once. "And you got away with it-- we *let* you get away with it." A mock-sigh, and she shakes her head. "Where did I go wrong...?" An understanding smile makes its appearance as T'ela offers to refill his wineglass. "I can't imagine you would be... though we're glad you stayed. Like you said: what would you do without Jharzeth?"

O'kano contemplates the offer for a moment before nodding his acceptance, which is accompanied by a brief, rueful smile. "I think I've seen enough to last me a lifetime -- I can go without the drunkness and cot-sharing very easily." His agreement to the final statement is immediate. "I might not have been glad to be allowed -- forced -- to stay then, but I am now."

T'ela watches O'kano for the most part as she half-fills his glass once more, then pours more into her own cup as well. "*You* never were stuck in a barrack with Myca and Jess... its enough to scar anybody for life." Its said with a lopsided grin, though. "But your life wouldn't be complete without this stuff. You just... have to do it. Do you know what I mean?" Complete innocence -- apparently, a slightly drunk Tae is the most tolerable Tae... or perhaps she's just loosening up a bit. "We're glad you stayed, O'kano. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"I bet." He makes a face. "I was stuck with Myca in the barracks, too." And Jharzeth caught her Eilanth, too, but O'kano doesn't mention that part of it. "I stay away from her as much as possible." His fingers curl around the stem of his glass once more as he shakes his head in disagreement. "My life would be just fine without a lot of things." Self-depreciating, he remarks, "I bet a lot of people think otherwise -- or think that it'd be better, if it's not the same."

T'ela ughs. "The games she and Jess used to play, though... scary. Very, very scary. Especially when they'd be doing it right in the middle of the barracks." Alright, so perhaps that's just a tad bit of an exhaggeration. "At least I haven't seen her much since you all graduated." Eyebrows raise in disagreement as she insists, "It wouldn't. You know it wouldn't." A swift taste of wine, then: "I'll bet there's plenty of people that'd say that about me... but who are they? They don't matter." Sounds like an echo from the past, but at least her philosophy is solid as she finishes with an ever-eloquent, "So?"

Again, O'kano grimaces. "I'm glad I never had to see any of that. And I don't see her often, either, which is just fine with me." His own glass is raised as he takes a small drink; then, it lowers as he idly plays with it, swirling the wine first one way, then the other. "Would too. Some of it, yes, I agree -- but others I would be perfectly happy if it never happened."

"That is something that I think I could've done without seeing," is offered by T'ela in compromise. "One of the few things." A head tilt, and she queries softly, "Like what?" She doesn't mean to pry-- wait. Yes she does, though in the nicest way possible.

O'kano doesn't want to say. Really, he doesn't. So he fudges a bit, saying, "Well -- it wasn't really anything I could prevent -- I wasn't involved. So maybe that doesn't count..." There's a hint of wistfulness in his tone, though; it still falls in that catergory of 'I wish it had never happened.' Rather than answer fully, he drinks from the remainder of his wine.

T'ela couldn't look more curious, really, but somehow she refrains from pushing the point. Secrets are good things, after all. "I... see..." Wineglass is picked up, studied, and drank from before she grins suddenly and sets it back down. "I suppose getting hit could be one of them," she offers, more as an escape route than anything else - one who knows how it is to be trapped also knows how nice it is to get out of a corner.

"Yes." O'kano grasps at that, nodding agreement with relief that he attempts to mask. "Definitely. I can do without the punches, thanks. I don't see any value in those." He, too, sips from his wine, finishing it off and letting the glass dangle between fingers. "Unless I'm the one doing the punching, that is."

T'ela blinks as insight hits rather like a ton of bricks, but quirks a half-grin anyways. "I'd imagine so," is the rather dry responce before the glass is picked up once more and nearly all the crimson liquid drained away. "You? Punching? I wouldn't have thought you the type that liked to hit people."

O'kano eyes T'ela dubiously; he's figuring out that she knows -- or thinks she knows -- something, but he hasn't ciphered out what that is. "It's better than being punched," he points out. "And I'm not. But if there's any value in it, then it's when you do it yourself instead of having your nose broken." A rueful finger comes up to swipe at his own, which just happens to be slightly crooked thanks to a proddy K'iss.

T'ela isn't about to let on that she knows anything - the value of secrets, and all that. Instead, her gaze finds the half-empty winebottle, and refills her glass yet again. "Well... that's true." A squint at the nose, and then a chuckle. "I remember that, actually. You do seem to have a problem with getting hit. At least *I* didn't hurt you." A blink and a peer at the bronzerider prompts the query, "Did I?" Now she asks, after however long its been?

"Can I have some more, too?" O'kano inquires, holding out his own glass. "It's...good." Addictive. The bronzerider then shakes his head, informing, "No, you didn't. Not anything that didn't heal, anyways." The last bit's added almost maliciously, though Puo has a hard time keeping a straight face. At least she's asking; better late than never.

T'ela summons up a wry grin - she make a drinker of him yet - and promptly fills the glass. "I told you its good. See?" Bashful embarrasment, another emotion rarely seen on Tae's hardened features, sweeps across in a flush of pink. "I didn't *mean* to, you know." Well, she did, but it was a heat-of-the-moment type thing. "Hurt you. Its just..." And its probably best that the sentence is finished off with a gulp of wine instead of words, for everyone involved.

O'kano doesn't even realize he's being sucked into the evils of drinking -- poor kid. "Yeah, yeah. You were right." How often do those words come across Puo's lips? It's a rare occurance for him to admit. Then, rolling his eyes, he amends, "It was just a bruise. I'm okay." He doesn't interrogate T'ela further, letting her phrase go unfinished as he also takes a longer-than-usual drink of his wine.

T'ela swirls the remainder of her drink for a moment, then downs it. Isn't drinking fun? A just vaguely sloppy grin spreads across her face. "I always am, you know." And modest, too! How charming! "I *knew* I didn't hurt you; you're tougher than *that*. I don't train wimps." The wine is considered once more. "Lovely thing, wine. I do think Shepoth's actually gone to sleep." Leaning a bit closer, she murmurs, "He hates to listen to me after I've had a few. Faranth only knows why, but.."

O'kano makes a scoffing noise, replying, "I don't believe that. Everyone's wrong sometimes." He regards his half-empty wineglass with slight puzzlement -- how'd it disappear so quickly? "Maybe he thinks you've had too much," the bronzerider offers. "Or he doesn't want to be awake if you /do/ have too much."

T'ela arches an eyebrow, but insists, "Not me... usually. You'll see." And that's all she has to say about that. "He *knows* when I've had too much-- this isn't it." The empty wineglass is flicked with a finger, apparently just to hear the ringing sounds. "A bottle of hard stuff is too much. This is nothing." Despite what O'kano might think to the contrary, her teasing tone is underlied with dire experience. "Probably. Maybe. Though he should *know* better by now. I'll bet he's sulking." She reaches for the bottle to refill her glass, then hesitates, her gaze shifting over to the bronzerider - asking for approval?

"I will?" O'kano can't help but ask that, eyebrows quirking. "When's that going to happen?" The perusal of the remaining wine continues for a minute before he finishes it off, and his attention slides back to T'ela. "Oh. If you say so." Uncertainty laces Puo's tone; he doesn't approve, really, but he doesn't move to stop the brownrider from refilling her own glass.

T'ela bites her lip, and withdraws the hand, covering with, "You don't want anymore?" Of course, that was *exactly* what she was going to do: offer him more. Her hand's motion is changed into a playful swat at O'kano. "Just pay attention; it might sneak up on you from behind and you'd never know it." The wine is eyed once more by she of little willpower when it comes to these things before she rises suddenly, her motions showing no evidence of physical inebration. "I should... I should... stop. Now."

"No, I think I'm done -- thanks, though." Here, a small smile softens the words and objecting sentiment before O'kano adds, "I don't have your...tolerance. I'd probably end up sprawled on the the floor somewhere. And I think it'd be more comfortable to sleep in my own bed." Her warning is made note of with a solemn nod as he replies, "I'll do that." Then, as T'ela stands, the bronzerider slants a questioning look up and over at her as he evidently wonders where the sudden change came from. He stands, too, and only answers, "Okay."

T'ela's lip twitches back towards a grin. "Its a developed... skill." Still, a hand is rested against the back of the chair for casual support, just in case. "I wouldn't leave you here for some... greenrider... to pick you up." The last is said with a wink - of course she wouldn't. She'd drag him up to *her* weyr... not that he needs ever know that. A rather embarrased, "I promised Shepoth no more than three," is mumbled before she looks up at the bronzerider with a gaze that's only a little brighter than usual - but then, its more vibrant than usual, too. A hand is offered towards O'kano akwardly as she offers, "I'll see you later, I suppose? I think I'm going to go back up to my weyr," that cold, cold weyr, "and take a nap. Se eif I can't burn most of this off now. I'd... reccomend the same. Especially if you're not used to it."

"Anything but that!" O'kano pretends to be horrified. "Who knows what might happen." He subsides, then, and nods once. "That makes sense." The hand is accepted with only minimal unease; the slight wine-haze took care of most of his own awkwardness. "Yeah. I'll probably see you soon in the barracks." He switches subjects, adding, "That sounds like a good idea. Maybe I'll do that."

T'ela chuckles softly, and gives a mock shiver. "Horrible, horrible, I know." His hand is squeezed, then released to clasp behind her back as she nods an agreement. "The barracks. Ugh. All the more reason to sleep now." A friendly enough grin, and she turns to go, calling back, "'Later!" She hesitates once, at the curtain, and glances over her shoulder curiously at the bronzerider, but calls herself to task with the smallest of stumbles and continues on her way up to her weyr.