Contents:
Kaeralla

O'kano sneaks down the stairs and, upon sighting Kaeralla, promptly reddens for some reason that he doesn't stop to share and hurries past, doing his best to ignore her fully.

Living Cavern -- Starmount(#38RDJLM)
A huge, vaulted dome of rock arches overhead, pocked in places with outcroppings and little holes where firelizards are constantly squabbling and eating various things. The floor of the cavern has been smoothed out by years of feet walking over it, polished to a shine except for the scuffs of table legs. The rough wooden tables are scattered around the room, chairs distributed almost as randomly. Dishes cover the tables, filled with all kinds of foods kept ready for hungry riders and weyrfolk, with firelizards swooping and playing amoung them, grabbing snacks as they will.
 A wide tunnel to the east leads out to the bowl, while several much smaller tunnels lead off in various directions. One dark tunnel, sloping downward, leads to the lower cavern complex for residents. Another, judging from the delicious smells coming from it, can only lead to the kitchen. The last, a steeply upward-sloping tunnel, bears a small iconograph beside it denoting the record hall.

You see:
 K'iss, standing near the door.
 T'ela, standing near the door.

K'iss nods, "Aye, I suppose. Xa'te won Fayanth's flight at Azov Weyr." The greenrider sighs quietly at that.

"Who did?" Tae is rather surprised at that, though she stuffs away a churlish frown at the mention of the flight; *someone* had to stay with the weyrlings, after all. "Xa'te? I... don't think I know him." She fidgets in her chair, glancing at the fire, then back at the greenrider and ventures cautiously, "Why do you mention it?"

It figures that O'kano would enter just as K'iss speaks those words. The bronzerider shoots K'iss an annoyed and somewhat unsettled look, then promptly does his best to ignore the current occupants of the living caverns as he prowls around the sideboards. "Thanks for that reminder," he mutters beneath his breath, too, scowl popping into place. It's doubtful, though, that anyone'd see it, for Puo has his back to both K'iss and T'ela.

T'ela frowns as something of that mutter must carry over to her - not enough to understand, from the befuddled expression on her face, though enough for her to recognize the voice and turn, gaze sweeping across the cavern to spot the bronzerider. And spot him she does, an eyebrow arching curiously. "... O'kano?"

O'kano doesn't want to be spotted, and it's evident by the way that he reluctantly half-pivots, peering over at T'ela unwillingly and a touch desperately. "Nevermind me," he hastens to say, fingers making little shooing motions. "Just...turn back around and talk to K'iss, okay?" And Pu will just continue on his search for something strongly alcoholic.

T'ela hides a smile, and hides it well, as she laces her hands together; seems the tables have turned, so to speak. "K'iss?" Though a faint grin is flashed the greenrider, a finger is flicked in his direction. "Why? Is... something wrong?" Voice is pitched softer at the last as she studies the bronzerider, the gears in her head practically audible as they whirr away.

K'iss is gone. Drat. And Puo is left alone, in his half-intoxicated state, with T'ela -- if there's scarier things, they can't be much worse. O'kano does his best to busy himself, peering around dishes and trays and hunting down something that just won't be found. "Um." He tries hard to think up if he really wants the brownrider to know, and eventually decides against it. "No," Puo lies; it's extremely transparent, though, and one'd have to be as dumb of a wherry to not see through it. "Of...of course not."

"I... see. So... you must've just lost that chip on your shoulder?" Tae cracks an exhaggerated smile at her own, rather lame, joke, then rises, padding over towards Puo with her hands clasped behind her back. "Want me to help you look for it?" A few paces away, she pauses and taps the toe of her boot against the ground. "I'd say you need *something* like that."

"What?" Puo doesn't get it, and turns back towards T'ela to stand with a puzzled expression on his face. "You don't make any sense." He recovers some of his usual moodiness while he grumbles at his dragon, "Be quiet, Jhar -- stop complaining at me." But then, once the bronze falls silent, O'kano's back to mild stupidity and confusion. "I just...I just want some wine," he finally offers. "But I can't find any." It's right in front of him, of course, but he's failed to spot it.

T'ela's grin fades a bit as she gets a good look at O'kano's face, then blinks, hissing in surprise, "Are you *drunk*?" She knows that stupor all too personally to mistake it's presence, though she could very easily mistake its cause. Brows furrow as she rests her hands on her hips and shakes her head at the lordling. "Wine? But..." Lips press together at the admission, then demand, albiet softly, "Why?"

"No!" Puo's still quick enough to deny that almost immediately, frown appearing upon his countenance. Then, after a hesitation, he vaguely gestures towards the Bowl and grumbles, "Jharzeth -- Jharzeth /lost./" A pause; O'kano didn't really mean to tell T'ela that, and certainly wouldn't have if he was in his right mind. But if he was in his right mind, he certainly wouldn't be looking for any alcoholic beverages.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth sulks, winding a ribbon of dark, dark crimson this way and that; he sulks at Shepoth since his rider very adamantly told him not to whine at him anymore, and he sulks at Shepoth since Puo's talking to T'ela, so he figures it's only natural for him to talk to T'ela's brown. << It's not /fair./ >> Woe, woe is Jharzeth. Lucky for him, he'll forget it in a couple days. to Shepoth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth is all watery, cooling blues and greens, comforting shades as he echoes in that low baritone, << I know it is not. >> A vague memory, hardly something to be told from a dream, of his own loss days before haunts the back of his mind. << They are not fair; we know best, yet they do not listen. >> to Jharzeth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth fizzles in the liquid tones, sputtering vermillion and cerise. << And now /he/ doesn't want to listen to me anymore. >> After a sulky pause, the bronze continues. << So I just won't talk to him. I don't care if he does something stupid. Hmph. Teach /him./ >> Jharzeth's on the verge of throwing one of his rare temper tantrums; it's a good thing they're rare, for they're not all pleasant, either. to Shepoth

T'ela is nearly a perfect echo of Shepoth as all pretenses of humor evaporate, and an understanding nod follows. "Rotten, isn't it?" She can't help but interject a bit of an edge into it: the eternal loser whose tired of loosing, but doomed to her fate no matter what she does. "But here..." At this, she slips around the bronzerider to peer at the counter, apparently in search of that very same wine. "It'll help... as long as you don't overdo it." The last is added as a rather annoyed mutter, though she'd probably like for nothing more than to be able to tease *him* when he's down and out.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth is quite familiar with the ignored-by-your-lifemate syndrome, and so can be wise: << He will come around once eventually; do ignore him until he seeks you. And then ignore him a bit longer. >> Tendrils of lush green flecked with tan wind around the bronze, offering understanding. << Mine will not let him do anything stupid. At least, not by himself. >> He's rather aggrieved about that last, though a bubble of golden laughter overrides the emotion. << Females are unwise, and then we are stuck with stupids. We are... unlucky, is the term? Yes. Unlucky. >> to Jharzeth

"Yeah." The concession is rueful, and O'kano opens his mouth to say something else, but shuts it when T'ela finds the liquor he was looking for, commentary forgotten in favor of that wine. "Uh huh." The answer comes absently, distractedly; Puo has no idea what overdoing it is, and probably wouldn't be able to hold back even if he did. "Is it good?" he wants to know, referring to the wine. "I don' want something gross." A pause comes as he ponders. "You can try it for me," he finally offers generously.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth is smugly comforted by that advice, and shows as much with a twist of metallicy. << I will. He deserves it. >> Hah. Take that, Puo. << She won't? >> The bronze considers that for a minute, then makes a confession. << I'm more worried that he'd do something stupid with her -- he's already being stupid. >> Smart people don't lose their inhibitions thanks to a few too many drinks, he thinks. << He doesn't think when he's stupid. >> to Shepoth

T'ela picks the bottle up by the neck to inspect it, peering at the lable before she shrugs. "Not bad, I think. Strong enough." Liquid within is swirled idly as she considers, absently chewing on her lip, then nods, gesturing towards a spot over her shoulder, "Grab two glasses; I'll help you out." Definate hesitation there at the prospect of getting even semi-drunk again, but then, hangovers are always more fun when you've someone to share them with.

O'kano is satisfied with that answer, and bobs his head once. "Good." He heads for the indicated glasses after standing still for a moment to digest T'ela's instructions, picking out two after deliberating for longer than it really should take. Once the glasses are found, he returns to his original position and peers around thoughtfully. And although his head's somewhat fogged, Puo has the sense to note, "I don' think I wanna stay here...y'know, people." The explanation may not be the best, but it gets his point -- that getting drunk where people can see is bad -- across. Hopefully.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth radiates agreement, echoed in an amused rumble. << They all do. >> He's currently in the process of ignoring Tae, as a matter of fact - something that's been going on for days, at the least. But the amusement fades a grains of umber begin to pick up in his tone, dancing around antsily. << What do you mean? You need not worry for mine. >> Deliberate misunderstanding, perhaps. to Jharzeth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth is a little bit suspicious of that answer, and it creeps into his mental tone, lacing the sulky, rebellious voice with dubiousness. << I don't? >> He's not so sure about that. << I don't care what mine does, >> he finally decides. << He can make his own choices without me. >> Even if he regrets it later. << If he comes whining at me, I won't do anything about it. If he won't listen to me, I won't listen to him. >> to Shepoth

T'ela pops the cork off the bottle and sniffs it, then hastily re-corks as her nose wrinkles. "Definately strong enough," is muttered as she turns to nod approval at Puo's mission. "Good..." Lips purse as she considers his final comment, and she nods. "Yeah, I know. Where'd you rather...?"

O'kano, all innocent, thinks for several moments before suggesting, "Somewhere where people won't find us?" Oh dear. What alcohol Puo's already consumed seems to have stolen nearly all of his wits and self-preservation skills, and what's worse, the bronzerider's naively clueless about it. "Where...where'd be good?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth's thoughts pick up pace, building up into a veritable sandstorm as something of his lifemate's sudden turmoil invades, though his voice remains smooth. << He can. Learn from them, perhaps. They certainly won't learn from us. >> He forces his thoughts to calm, the storm of golden flecks to still. << That is wise, yes. >> to Jharzeth

T'ela blinks several times at that, her hand tightening around the neck of the bottle. She really shouldn't-- but then--... the faintest of sighs escapes her as she tucks the bottle under her arm. "Anywhere you'd feel safe from... people." Brown gaze never leaves the bronzerider; she'll follow him, but she's got enough honor left that she won't *drag* him along with her.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth agrees, swamping his earlier vibrancy with cooler, calmer waves of burnt sienna. << Yes. Yes, it's like you say. >> And then Jharzeth can gloat when it's all over and say 'I told you so.' to Shepoth
T'ela probably wouldn't have to drag him, though, for at this state, Puo'd willingly follow along. As it is, he blinks hard, brow furrowing as he attempts to figure something out. The beginnings of a reconsideration take place with a half-formed doubt -- "But..." -- before the bronzerider forgets that train of thought and forgets why it might not be such a good idea, and finally just shrugs. "Um. I don't know." He hesitates, then suggests, "A weyr, maybe?"

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth projects a facade of calm, a cool oasis amidst the desert, though currents roil beneath the surface. << Indeed. They must learn on their own. Especially when they are stupid. >> to Jharzeth

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth picks up on that last word, rolling it around in a grumpy, sulky litany. << Stupid, stupid, stupid. >> to Shepoth

T'ela tries to pretend that the location doesn't matter, really she does, and as such, the agreement comes breezily. "Probably - yours? You... saw mine." Drafty and chairless probably isn't the best place to get drunk, and she knows it. The reassurance is swift as she notes the hesitation. "Nobody'd see you there."

O'kano considers that, then is perfectly happy to nod his assention. "Yeah. Yours is /cold./" He shudders once. "Mine has a fire, though, and it should still be going." In truth, Puo hardly ever lets it die. "And pillows and things. And it isn't so far." He steps towards the exit, not thinking to extend the invitation to follow him -- he just figures she'll come, with or without the proper courtesies.

O'kano's Abode(#3508RJh)
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.

T'ela will come - Shepoth probably couldn't drag her away if their weyr was on fire. "It's always like that. Farther, too." Bottle is gripped firmly in hand as she follows Puo in, eyes widening at the brilliant contrast it makes against her own humble weyr. "... wow." Gaze sweeps across the room as she stands uncertainly, tapping her fingers against the side of the bottle. "You've got... a nice weyr. Very nice."

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Shepoth rather wisely falls silent, half-withdrawing from the bronze, though the sentiment is noticibly not echoed. to Jharzeth

"Uh huh." Abstractly, O'kano nods once, likely already forgetting what T'ela refers to. Upon entry, the bronzerider moves for the table, carefully settling the glasses he totes upon the smooth surface. Then, rather shyly, he quirks a small grin. "Thanks?" His funding comes from his generous parents, doubtlessly, who aren't known to scrimp any on furnishings.

<*Jharzeth*> Privately, Jharzeth follows suit and fades too, carrying his grumbles and gripes into his private thoughts when no response is forthcoming. to Shepoth

T'ela stares about for a moment longer, then shakes her head and hurries after Puo, working the cork out of the bottle as she approaches the table. Definately more... nervous, perhaps, she wastes no time in filling both glasses then abandoning the wine bottle. She fidgets a moment with working the cork back into the mouth, then fumbles and drops it altogether with a curse - one could almost think *she's* the intoxicated one. "... here. Try that." A newly-filled glass is gestured to as she awaits his move, first.

O'kano doesn't think to be self-concious; he's too far gone for that. He snatches up the wineglass only seconds after it's filled -- the rest of his reactions may be infinitely slow, but that one isn't. His first sip is rather large, and he makes an awful face upon swallowing. "Ugh. That's...strong." Neverless, Puo takes another drink -- a safer, smaller drink -- after a moment, then collapses into one of the chairs that ring the table.

T'ela is far more conservative as she picks up her glass and sips at it slowly, lowering herself into a chair without ever taking her gaze from Puo; it's only after a moment does she realize that she's staring, and looks towards the center of the table with a mild flush. An akward - for her - silence, and then: "But... is it better?" Slow and steady seems to be the way, for before she realizes it, half the glass has been drained of the potent stuff.

"Not very good, either," O'kano comments next, making a face and regarding what liquid in his glass rather suspiciously. The brownrider's stares are noticed, or if they are, then the fact that it might be out of the ordinary doesn't click. Perplexion slides onto his expression as he glances over at Tae between drinks -- for he's drinking the stuff, even though he professes to dislike it, -- and he eventually manages a response. "Um. It will be?" He hopes.

T'ela nods in agreement, though she continues to quaff the drink bit by bit. "Strong ones never are," is offered by way of explanation. "Y'get used to them, eventually." Or all your tastebuds die off - whichever comes first. Glass is nearly empty now as it's set down on the table, though kept within easy reach. "It will be," soft affirmation, but definitive. "Takes a few minutes to set in, or something."

"Or something," Puo echoes in a mutter, scowling down at his beverage in the semblence of an un-intoxicated O'kano. After he makes another face, he woefully inquires, "Is it worth it?" Bronzerider heaves a sigh, then sips again from his glass, grimacing all the while. "Ew, ew, ew."

T'ela taps her glass with a finger nail, keeping her gaze forcibly on the cup, though every few seconds she flicks a glance over towards her drinking companion. "Yes." No hesitation in the firm reply, though she does dither before adding, "Makes... it... a lot easier to deal with." A faint grin appears as she turns her full gaze onto Puo. "Isn't it better than before, though?"

"Oh." O'kano ponders that for several long moments while he finishes off his ration of the liquor. "Jharzeth usually doesn't...doesn't..." Doesn't lose? Doesn't chase? The bronzerider's confession goes incomplete as, instead, he attempts to pour himself another glassful, reaching over to snag the bottle. His brow beetles as he concentrates, and Puo manages not to spill. Too much, at least.

T'ela is hesitant to finish off the remainder of her glass, though apparently her inhibitions are already starting to crumble, for she gives herself a shake, then downs the rest of the glass with a cough. "Shards...!" Brown eyes suddenly turned watery blink rapidly before she manages to clear herself of the afterburn of the alcohol, and sets the glass down once more. Forehead wrinkles at the partial-statement, though she doesn't push for information, but rather agrees, "Shepoth too." So what if she doesn't know what she's agreeing to?

O'kano doesn't think to offer the wine out for T'ela's consumption, concerning himself with his own alcohol and settling the bottle back on the table. He doesn't think, either, to place it equadistant between them; if it's out of reach, T'ela can always get up -- that's what Puo figures. "Mmmph. Yeah." The bronzerider doesn't voice anything else, lapsing into silence for the moment as he drinks from his glass.

T'ela tries not to look like an adict as her gaze wanders from the bronzerider to the wine, then back again; she even manages to hold out a good minute with an empty glass before she narrows her gaze faintly and levers herself up out of her chair. Still quite steady on her feet, indicating a sickening amount of sobriety, she covers the few paces between their chairs to get at the bottle, wrinkling her nose at Puo as she refills her own glass, then turns and leans back against the table, purportedly to be nearer the wine. "See? Could be worse."

To judge from Puo's incomprehension and general naivete, he is, in contrast, sickingly not-sober. That doesn't stop him from tasting his wine again and again, though -- or maybe that's what keeps him doing it. He glances up towards T'ela, slouching somewhat in his seat and nodding once in agreement, childlike, as he affirms, "Could be." And it'll probably be much worse come morning; O'kano's going to have a dragon-sized headache.

T'ela can remedy that little problem of a lack of drunkness, and looks like she's more than eager to: the newly filled glass isn't sipped at anymore, but purposefully drunken from. Half-sitting on the table now, she rests a hand against its surface for balance, and continues to look down at Puo. "You'll see..." is the sage reminder, accompanied by that hint of a grin again. "It'll all go away." Nothing better than oblivion, eh?

"I hope..." Puo trails off, pausing to take a moderate drink, then simply finishes, "I hope." Whatever he hopes isn't vocalized, but he's fairly certain that T'ela can divine it from what information she's already garnered. The bronzerider peers up at T'ela, then remarks to himself, "I'd probably fall if I tried that."

T'ela probably could divine what he was talking about were she completely there. But the smile's beginning to take on a rather lopsided look, and is only helped along in its transformation by the next gulp of alcohol. "Bet you wouldn't. Y'haven't had enough yet." The table beside her is patted as she wrinkles her nose. "Betcha a mark you can still stand just fine." Or lean, whatever the case may be.

"Have too," Puo replies defensively, not realizing that it's not really something that he wants to defend. He ponders, latching onto the next idea: "A whole mark?" And all he has to do is wobble around and fall down?

T'ela grins brightly as she nearly drains off her second glass, and nods. "A whole mark." Of course, to judge from the teasing gleam in her eye, that could very well be *exactly* what she wants to see. "No strings attached. If y'can't stand here with me, I'll give you a mark."

O'kano finishes off his own glass before cautiously getting to his feet, supporting his weight on the table the whole time. Then, hesitating, he wonders confusedly, "Am I standing, or am I sitting up there?" His head nods towards the table and ends up bobbing unsteadily before, with a frown, Puo steadies it. "What'd you want me to do?" While he waits for the answer, the bronzerider flops onto the ground, legs sprawled out in front of him. Standing's too hard, see, when almost everything's spinning merrily. He'll just take a small breather.

T'ela giggles, then dissolves into an outright laugh of hilarity, tipping her head backwards with glee. The balance of the wine is tipped down her throat before she recovers and looks back down, only to burst into giggles again at the sight of Puo on the floor. "I dunno if that counts or not." Crouching down beside the bronzerider, she reaches out to poke him in the chest with her free hand. "*I* think you were standing."

"What?" Puo wants to know, bewildered. "What's so funny?" He sat down on purpose, see. Really. The bronzerider moues a pout, then only tips over further thanks to T'ela's poke until he's lying on his back, mock-glowering up at the brownrider. "That," he informs in a rather slurred tone that's only thickened further by his accent, "wasn't very nice."

T'ela can't help herself - she falls backwards onto her rear as the laughter begins anew, rocking back and forth as she all but shakes with mirth. "Y-you!" Leaning forward, still giggling maniacally, she pokes Puo again with a sloppy grin. "Y'fell over." As if that wasn't obvious; yet it's still somehow a source of the utmost humor. "Just like that!"

O'kano looks rather pathetic as he struggles to sit up and gets as far as propping himself up on his elbows; there, he stops, perfectly content to rest in that position. "I told you," he accuses, "but you didn't believe me." He brings one hand up to defend himself against the pokes, balancing precariously on the other elbow, and begins to tip to one side. He manages to right himself before his equilibrium, already seriously compromised, is lost, but does so by quickly returning to his original posture.

T'ela's giggles finally slow, though her grin fades not a bit, as she reaches up blindly over the table for the wine, groping about until, luckily, she manages to wrap a hand around the base of the bottle. "There." Her glass is refilled once more, and the bottle set down on the ground a safe distance beneath the table. A long sip, then she repeats, "There. Yeah, well..." As she tips the glass upwards, she gestures at his prone self. "Guess I... misjudgeded." Another giggle as the glass is set down by the bottle, and leans forward again, the giggles fading in one of those famously swift mood changes. "Gota problem, Oooo'kano?"

"Me? Why would you think that?" Other than the fact that his balance has deteriorated until practically nothing's left and all his reclusive, distrusting mannerisms have virtually disappeared. O'kano gazes up and over at the brownrider, expression innocent, before he finally gives up and confesses, "Well, maybe."

T'ela doesn't poke him again - it's not necessary, really; after all, he's already *on* the floor. "Poor O'kano." If his mannerisms have dropped, then Tae's restraint is most definately slipping, for she leans way out over him, grinning the entire time. "Need a hand?" Sure, she's probably not a whole lot steadier at this point than he is, but it's the thought that counts, right?

O'kano tilts his head back as to get a better view of T'ela, and tries out a rather crooked smile in response. And, after a moment's contemplation, he decides, "I like it on the floor." He pauses to glance towards the ground, snapping his eyes shut until the spinning, unstable sight that greets his vision steadies, then returns his focus to the brownrider. "It's a little hard, though, right here."

T'ela giggles again, but wisely refrains from commenting. "Y'do?" She shifts forward onto her knees, matching his grin with a sloppy one of her own. "C'mon. It's too... hard. Gonna hurt yourself." A hand is stuck out over Puo's chest as she adds, "I'll help ya."

"Hurt myself?" O'kano repeats, mystified. "I don't know how I'd hurt myself, but..." He accepts T'ela's conclusion and her help nonetheless, carefully lifting one arm and reaching out to cling onto the proffered hand. "Too hard," he absently agrees, shooting a frown at the carpeted portion of the floor. "So maybe I don't like it so much."

T'ela nods sagely, or at least, as sage as one can be with a silly grin on her face. "Hurt your back layin' on it. Did that once." But no more explanation is forthcoming as to *why* she was laying on the floor. Shifting, she crouches once more, securing O'kano's grip with her other hand. "I don't like it, neither." Her grip tightens as she bounces in place with far too much energy than could be considered proper after drinking as much as she has already: "Tell me when yer ready."

"Oh." Puo accepts the brownrider's words at face-value, not thinking to inquire further as to just how one can hurt their back while lying on the floor. Even if he doesn't fully understand, the young man moves on. "Ready for what?" It baffles O'kano, but before there's time for an answer, he adds on, "I'm ready."

T'ela wrinkles her nose. "T'stand up, silly." Peering at him, she adds teasingly, "What didja *think* I meant?" But at his signal, instead of easing her way up, as would be wise for someone unsteady trying to help someone even *more* unsteady, she rockets upwards, determined to drag him up with her. Even if she is likely to fall back down again with the added weight throwing off her precarious balance.

Somehow, O'kano miraculously manages to stagger up to his feet with T'ela's help, other hand shooting out once he's half-way there for the added support of the stolid table. Any response is put on hold until he's standing, and then it's in the form of a mild groan. "Mrrrmf. That was /not/ fun," he informs slowly. The earlier question is replied to with a nebulous grin and a few, simple words: "I don't know." Then, eying his chair, Puo states matter-of-factly, "I bet I'd just slide off if I try sitting on that."

T'ela ohs. She didn't think of that - what to do once she got him back to his feet. Without releasing her grip, she half-pivots, frowning thoughtfully, then breaks out into a grin. "There! Not *so* bad, was it?" A tug on his arm, then: "We'll just set'ya down on your bed! Can't fall off that. Handy thing, beds." Maybe she should get one, someday? Nevertheless, she continues to tug him in that direction, though she remains close enough to offer the support of a quasi-stable shoulder. "C'mon. S'better than the floor."

"Yes, it's so bad," comes the half-grumbled response. "Things /spun./" And that's not normal, in Puo's book. "Better now, though." Then, he dutifully staggers off in the direction of T'ela's tugging and pulling; he'd not be able to make it if not for the supporting shoulder, and even with it his balance is unreliable, at best. "Much better than the floor," he finally concurs, gaze fastened on their destination.

"Aww. Spinning *is* bad." Tae nods in agreement, though even that motion nearly sends her staggering off course. "Shards, when didja get so heavy?" But she's determined now, and come hell or highwater, she's going to make it without falling. Indeed, she very nearly reaches it before she stumbles, tripping over her own feet that seem to suddenly have grown a miraculous amount, and half-staggers, half-falls the last few paces, Puo or no Puo.

O'kano considers that question seriously, and eventually tells T'ela ruefully, "I dunno. Maybe --" The rest of the explanation falls apart as the brownrider's stumbling catches him off-guard, and Puo's free hand is flung out to protect him for a possibly hard impact. Almost by luck, Puo falls cross-wise onto the bed, sprawled out on his stomach with feet touching the floor that he just barely missed.

T'ela oofs as she hits the side of the bed knees-first, though she catches herself from falling flat on her face by planting both hands on the bad. "That wasn't s'good," is muttered as she picks herself up to sit properly, then reaches out to press a hand into Puo's back and give him a shake. "Y'okay, there?" A small bounce is given, and her frown is promptly replaced by an exhuberant smile. "I *forgot* how nice it was to have a bed!"

O'kano, in contrast, fell flat on his face, not possessing enough coordination to halt his descent. Voice muffled, he responds, "Noooo." He tries to turn and only makes it halfway, ending up on his side and facing T'ela. "Ouch." There's no real pain, but it's a conditioned response: when one falls, one says "Ouch." So that's what Puo did. "Beds. Beds are good things."

T'ela flops bonelessly down onto her stomach, propping her chin up in her hands as she continues to grin foolishly, partially glazed brown eyes attesting to her un-sober condition. "Very good things. Very, very good." Giggling, she pokes at him again, inching closer on her belly to come within easier reaching distance. "Betcha you're just fine. It's not like y'fell on the floor or anything. Because floors are bad. Hard. Like I told you."

"Very good," Puo echoes. It's easy to agree, and easier still to simply repeat another's words -- less thinking, that way, and Puo's not exactly in a state where thinking is his top priority. "Would've been hard if I'd fallen on the floor," he comments profoundly. "Hard, and bad. Would've hurt." The poking is tolerated because he can't really escape it, although the bronzerider attempts to ward it off with a vague wave of his hand. "Hey."

T'ela frowns a bit, as if warding off some rather unpleasant thought, then exhales sharply and rolls over onto her back, tilting her head back to peer at Puo in a rather disorienting fashion. "Very hard. Woulda had to pay you that mark, just 'cause you made me fall." Her hand is batted aside, though for only a moment: the next heartbeat, and she's rested it on O'kano's shoulder with a pat. "Wouldn't want ya t'be hurt."

"I didn't make you fall," O'kano protests, misunderstanding. "You fell on your own." A pause and a frown later, he adds solicitously, "You okay?" T'ela's hand is regarded for a moment, but Puo apparently can't think of a reason to brush it away, so simply lets it stay and returns his gaze to the woman's face. "I'm okay," he informs. "Not hurt, I don' think."

T'ela hmphses, resting a hand on her chest as though injured. "Yer th' one that can't stand. I got *no* problem." A beaming smile dismisses the concern as she responds blithely, "Sure. Fine. Could be better, though." And there: there's the alcohol destroying the last of her defenses. "S'nice of you t'ask." Another smile, this one just a little crooked, and she announces, "That's good."

O'kano starts to deny that, stating, "I can too..." He hesitates, makes a face, and reverses his words to admit, "Well, maybe I can't." He turns the rest of the way over until he, too, is resting on his back, feet dangling over the edge. Puo's head remains turned towards T'ela, though, and he inquires, "Oh? I thought you had no problem -- what'd make you better?"

T'ela all but smirks now as she pats O'kano's shoulder once more. "S'ok. You don't hafta walk anywhere, anyways." A final pat, and she turns her head to stare up at the ceiling, taking a breath or two before she looks back at the bronzerider with darkened gaze, the silly-drunk slowly burning away into a more reckless-drunk, though she's still lacking enough in the seriousness department to muse, "Oh, I dunno."

"That's good. I'd never make it." Although Puo's tone is rather woeful, he seems perfectly content to lie on his back and move as little as possible. Then, with more insight than might be expected at the bronzerider's state of inebriation, he counters, "Yes, you do." And O'kano's interest is piqued enough for him to attempt to dig a little bit further, although it's asked in all innocence. "If it'd make you happier, why don't you just...do it?" That makes sense to O'kano's intoxicated mind.

T'ela blinks - apparently, she hadn't quite expected that answer. A searching look at the bronzerider, then she flips back over onto her stomach, proping her chin on her hand once more as she eyes him, just a tad bit blearily. "You... you think so?" Gaze wavers just a bit, then she's pulling herself forward to be more on a level with him. "That's what y'think?" The hand on O'kano's shoulder fidgets, fingers tapping antsily as she awaits a reply - in fact, seems she can hardly keep still anymore as she shifts, ostentably trying to get more comfortable.

O'kano has, of course, absolutely no idea just what T'ela's referring to, and although he might've guessed at it in a more sober state, the alcohol has robbed him, along with the self-built defenses and inhibitions, of a clear mind. So Puo's completely clueless as he responds, "Of course. Why wouldn't you? If I was you, I'd probably want to be happier, too. It makes sense." He hesitates, peering up at the brownrider, then adds on a touch uncertainly, "Doesn't it?"

T'ela scratches her jaw thoughtfully, and has finally managed to scoot her way up until she's right beside him. A pause is inserted here as she kicks off her boots - wouldn't be polite to get dirt on the blanket, after all - then curls her legs up partially beneath her. Forget cloudy, her gaze has gone positively black; the only reason she hesitates even now probably has something to do with a little voice that's not so drunk screaming at her in the background. "If... you think that." With inebration, however, comes that wonderful ability to tune things out, and tune out that voice she does as she levers herself upward until her face is a mere span of inches above Puo's. "Are you... sure?" Even beyond rationality, though, it wouldn't do to be pushy - certainly not.

The whole while, O'kano watches T'ela, waiting for a response of some sort and not budging from his somewhat uncomfortable position. It beats the floor, anyways. "Sure I'm sure," he blithely begins, staring up at the brownrider with wide-eyed unsuspicion. It finally occurs to Puo for him to ask after the nature of whatever it is that'd make Tae feel better; he opens his mouth to begin and starts, "What..." The question dies away, then, as it's importance recedes, and Puo, with his wine-fogged mind, can't reclaim it.

T'ela is far beyond the stage of hesitation - and the fact that she doesn't get a denial per se only serves to urge her on. "... good." A wisp of a grin teases at the corners of her mouth before she takes the plunge, so to speak, lowering her head over Puo's to, assumedly, kiss him - this time, he didn't even have to get punched first.

Kissing isn't what Puo expected, and the bronzerider is stunned into unresponsiveness when their lips first meet. And although something at the back of his mind is flashing warning lights, O'kano can't figure out why it might not be the wisest choice to respond in kind and kiss back. So that's exactly what he does after the initial shock has faded and those lights have dimmed. Eyes flicker shut, too, and the stiffness that resulted at first leaves Puo's frame; apparently, the "What?" was answered.

T'ela hesitates as that little voice starts to scream at her again, piercing through the alcohol-induced fog for just long enough to cause her to break it off, pulling up a hairsbreadth to study Puo intently. Breath is all but held as she waits for a response of some sort, her gaze locked on the bronzerider's face; but the last holdout of restraint can't possibly last long without a definite sign one way or another, for even now she shifts her body subtly closer to his.

O'kano follows suit and breaks away, the surprise that served as the first reaction now mirrored in his gaze as he looks up at the woman. "T'ela -- Tae -- what...what are you doing?" he finally asks softly, voice hardly above a whisper. Rather than hostility or disapproval, though, it's candid curiousity and a trace of bafflement that enter his tone.

T'ela opens her mouth to reply, then shuts it again, eyes squeezing shut at the nickname that hasn't been used more than a handful of times in the past few turns. Swallowing, she raises her head up an inch or so, licks her lips, and whispers back rather hoarsley, "I... don't know..." And she's genuinely uncertain, too, though that might have something to do with having plenty of alcohol running through her system.

"Oh." O'kano doesn't have a ready response for that one, and, thanks to a few too many glasses of alcohol beverages, isn't able to come up with one, either. So in lieu of a good reply, affirmative or otherwise, he lapses into a moment of pensive silence before simply stating once again, "Oh." Far be it from Puo to take any sort of initiative; he's content enough to just lie there, half on and half off the bed, peering up at T'ela and just waiting.

T'ela isn't quite sure what to make of the reply, as indicated by a faint furrowing of her brow. Legs curl up beneath her as she sits up into a more comfortable position, though she's not about to admit defeat just yet - one hand rests on either side of Puo's shoulders, ostentably for support, as she continues to lean over him, echoing a rather confused, "Oh? Do you..." She gropes for words, jaw working as she tries to complete a thought.

O'kano doesn't sit up, for that's still rather hard for him to accomplish, but he does lever himself upwards a little, resting the majority of his weight on his elbows. T'ela's unfinished thought leaves him hanging, and Puo looks up at her with perplexity evident in his expression. "Do I...?" comes the prompt, followed by one simple question: "Do I what?"

T'ela doesn't look away - she's too far gone to feel embarrasment, at this point - though she does swallow nervously again. "Do you... do you... like me?" Hesitant and low-pitched is her voice, fraught with wavering uncertainty.

"Do I like you?" Although O'kano didn't know what to expect, that question wasn't even on the list. So he blinks once -- though that might just be because his eyes start to unfocus -- before informing, "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't talk to you." Even after that kiss, Puo isn't thinking further due to his current lack of sobriety; innocence personified, the bronzerider misinterprets the inquiry and translates it to mean friends status, which may or may not be noticed.

T'ela must be a very friendly-type friend, in that case, for she dips downwards towards the bronzerider again, as if to kiss him, then pulls back up at the last minute, peering back at him. "Y'wouldn't?" Vague suspicion, formless but definately there, enters her voice. "Y'talked to me before you liked me, y'know..." But suspicion is beaten out by the hope that suffuses her expression. "Really?"

O'kano thinks about that for a moment, attempting to remember the previous occurances of talking or not-talking. "Only when I was yelling at you," he finally amends. "Or sayin' somethin' not so nice. But you weren't very nice, either." But that statement is relegated into the past with Puo's choice of past tense; not-friends generally don't end up consuming alcohol or lying on beds together, in his past experiences.

"Guess so..." Tae's brows knit as she digs back into the ever-so-distant past of not even a few months ago, then relax as she smiles faintly. "Neither were you. Still." She twists again, moving her far hand to rest absently on Puo's stomach - she's an awfully touchy-feely friend. "We're... better now? Right?"

"Maybe not," Puo admits rather sheepishly; he's perfectly aware that he generally isn't the most courteous person, even in his inebriated condition. He begins to nod at the final question, but aborts that motion with a mutter. "Mmph. Dizzy." The bronzerider gingerly lowers his upper body back to the mattress, shutting his eyes to wait for the spinning sensation to cease as he forms his brief reply. "Better. Right."

T'ela nods a blythe agreement to that, taking a breath to launch into Faranth only knows what, when Puo lies back down; her expression morphs into one of concern as she 'awwws' and scoots up towards his head. "Are you alright?" Well-versed is she in the many stages of inebration and the subsequent hangover, and sympathy rings in her tone. Her other hand is extended towards O'kano's forehead as she tries to recall, "How much did'ya have again?"

O'kano opens one eye somewhat to peer up at T'ela and assure, "I'm fine. Great. Never been better." Lie, lie, lie. And even if he's feeling okay now, Puo most certainly won't be come morning. The next question is harder to figure out, and he puzzles it over for a minute before admitting, "I didn't count." It was too much, whatever the number, but O'kano's merrily oblivious to that fact.

T'ela presses a rather warm hand to his forehead, and tsks softly. "Y'shouldn't have had so much." Leave the heavy drinking to the experts. Or the foolhardy. "That's okay. Betcha a mark it won't be so bad if you get used to it; I don't count, neither." Joyfully tipsy once more, she scoots over to lean against him - she'd be sitting on the bronzerider if she tried to get closer - and grins. "But it's nice, isn't it?"

O'kano probably classifies as one of those foolhardy drinkers. "Yeah, well..." He trails off, quirking a small grin that ends up being somewhat lopsided. "I don't want to get used to it," he decides. "It's gross." A hand is lifted to wave in the general direction of the table and what little wine remains over there, then feebly flops back into its previous position. "It could be nicer," he judges. Nicer if he didn't get dizzy every time he tried to make a quick movement.

T'ela giggles, shaking her head. "But isn't it better now that y'don't hear..." She does, at least, have enough presence of mind to not drag Jharzeth and the flight back into the mess, though it's a near thing. "... all,uh, the noise?" Hand is removed from his forehead with a satisfied nod as she tries to pretend she knows what she's doing when it comes to judging the health of other people, and fails miserably. "Yeah, gross. But you'll, uh, be okay." She leans out over Puo again, peering at the bronzerider quizically - those words sound familiar. "Nicer how?"

"Noise. Right." O'kano has absolutely no idea what T'ela's talking about, but sagaciously doesn't mention that or ask for a clarification. On some subconcious level, he figures out that he wouldn't like the reminder. "Good. 'Cause floors aren't fun and I don' really want to fall anymore." He concentrates on tracking the brownrider as she shifts, not the question, and ends up vaguely stating in a way that leaves plenty of room for misinterpretation, "Y'know. Nicer." Not-falling nicer, he means.

T'ela is just as blissfully unaware, though she nods sagely. "Floors're bad. They should just put beds on the floor. Lots of beds.." A dreamy smile floats up out of nowhere at the very thought, though she banished it a second later and puts up a lopsided grin in it's place. "... nicer, huh? I think your bed's nice." And with that comment, she gingerly lowers herself down onto the matress, stretching out on her back right up next to Puo. "Really nice."

"Or make a squishy floor," Puo suggests helpfully. "Then it wouldn't be hard." And hard floors hurt to fall on. He turns his head in order to look over at T'ela, offering a small, pleased smile at the compliment. "So do I." O'kano's obsessively fixated upon the quality of his furnishings, and only the best are good enough for him. "Nice."

"That's not such a bad idea, either. 'Cept what are you gonna make it squishy with?" Tae's talking utter nonsense, and absolutely revelling in it. "Beds don't hurt to fall on, either," is pointed out helpfully as she shifts onto her side to grin face-to-face at Puo. "I should make mine nice. Eventually. When I feel like getting a bed." She's quite happy with his for now, thanks.

"Not me," Puo determines. "It'd make me squishy, not the other way 'round." The bronzerider finally remembers to kick off his boots, and concentrates upon that task for several moments, reflexively worrying his lower lip. It's hard, see, when your feet don't want to cooperate. "Uh huh," he absently agrees; he's not exactly voicing any complaints about sharing the bed. It's plenty big.

T'ela swats vaguely at O'kano's arm, grinning merrily at the comment. "Might do both." But the hand is dropped once more on his chest as she comments, "But you're not squishy, anyways. Too hard. Wouldn't want to fall on *you*." Another giggle at the bronzerider's troubles prompts the remark, "Got a problem?"

O'kano should hope not. He'd probably have a fit if someone accused him of being squishy; he's too much of a perfectionist not to care. The bronzerider succeeds in prying one of the boots off, and begins on the other as he responds. "I'm...I'm..." Mmph. The other finally pops off, and Puo exhales, silent for only a second before he voices with a pleased note, "Tha's better."

T'ela giggles at the sound of boots plopping off, giggles at Puo's efforts, and just generally giggles; she's enjoying herself far, far too much considering where she is. "Guess not." The giggles are abruptly cut off, however, as an enormous, completely unlady-like yawn cracks her jaw. "Aahh-- ahhshrds." She rolls over onto her back once again, resting a hand below her neck absently. "I'm glad you're happy," is noted quietly.

The sound of laughter only draws a rather blank look from Puo, who doesn't decipher just what the brownrider's giggling at. "Aahshrds?" O'kano finally repeats, mystified. "What's that mean?" Falteringly, he shifts onto his side -- it takes a couple tries to get it to work, -- even as T'ela rolls onto her back. "Mmph. Yeah. Well. I'm fine." After a pause, he thinks to add, "You're happy too, right?"

T'ela manages to stuff the giggles away for a moment or two, though they very nearly burst to the surface again as he echoes her... odd sound. "Popped my jaw," is offered by way of oblique explanation - doesn't *everyone* spout nonsense when they pop their jaw? "That's good." Head is turned towards O'kano once more as she scratches the back of her neck idly, then jerks her chin downwards in a nod. "Sure. Pretty happy."

"Oh." It makes perfect sense, of course, to O'kano. "Oh, yeah." The bronzerider wobbles a little -- perching on one's side is a precarious business -- and tries his hardest not to fall, either on T'ela or back onto his spine. The danger is warded off for the time-being, and after a moment's careful speculation, he states, "Good."

T'ela just looks generally pleased with herself as she grins at O'kano, snaking a hand out to grab playfully at his shirt. "Don' fall over. Careful." Sighing happily, she beams up at the bronzerider. "Why's that good?" Teasingly, to be sure, but she really does want to know. "Are you *sure* you're happy?" My, but the circular logic, combined with such a short memory, could keep this going all night.

That shirt-grabbing is just enough to tip the balance -- in the other direction. So, where once he was dangerously close to falling back, now he's dangerously close to falling atop the brownrider; Puo throws out a hand to forestall the plummet, and that hand just happens to land on the other side of T'ela. Oops. "Sorry!" Blinking down at her, he fumbles for a response and eventually states, uncertainly, "Because it's good to be happy?" Then, a heartbeat later, he adds, "I guess so?"

T'ela can't help but giggle again - everything takes on a certain cast of humor once you've had enough to drink. "I *told* you to be careful." However, she doesn't look at all concerned; indeed, she attempts to fling an arm around Puo's neck and grins up at him. "It *is* good to be happy," is the exhuberant reply. "Be happy!" Her face straightens out a bit as she adds, "If yer not happy now, what *will* make you happy?"

"Sorry, sorry," Puo apologizes with a trace of embarrassment. "It didn't work." T'ela's warning, that is. Before he can roll back to his original spot, the bronzerider is trapped beneath the arm, and he doesn't make an attempt to escape. A faint grin slides into place upon Tae's command, and he promises, "I'll do that." He considers her final words, brow furrowed; he can't think for himself anymore -- too hard -- and the response is another question. "What d'you think'd make my happy?"

T'ela wraps her other arm around Puo's neck, too, and simply grins. "I noticed. But that's okay." Certainly okay, in her book, if that silly grin is any evidence. "We'll have to." She puts true consideration into the question, the rather rusty gears in her head ker-klanking away with only a few false starts. "I... dunno." But there's that grin again - even if she doesn't know, she's not short on ideas.

"Well, good." Because Puo wouldn't want for it to not be okay, really. Rather hesitantly, he tries out a grin, too; seems like it's the thing to do, after all, what with Tae grinning non-stop. O'kano's disappointed by the answer to his question, though, and moues a small pout, his own smile fading away momentarily. "I was hoping you would," he confesses, "because I can't think much right now."

T'ela would, at this point, probably be okay with Puo throwing her off the ledge, save that it'd be far too cold outside. An encouraging grin matches, and she wriggles as best she can to come down more on level with the bronzerider. "Hey, be happy, remember?" One hand is removed from around Puo's neck to trace down the side of his face. "Well..." Momentary hesitation before she lifts her head to kiss the bronzerider again, playfully.

At this point, it's rather doubtful that Puo would throw her off a ledge, let alone risk the cold. "Happy," he repeats thoughtfully; he's got the memory of a dragon. Or worse. After all, Jharzeth's still sulky about the flight that O'kano's managed to mostly forget, thanks to too much wine. "Okay." This time, he's more or less prepared for being kissed, so it takes less time for him to respond. Bronzerider shifts over to one side of T'ela; more comfortable, that way, for Puo, and probably moreso for Tae as well. And it frees one of the hands that was holding him up. That hand mimics T'ela's, almost like a mirror-image, and a finger trails down the line of her jaw, just barely brushing the skin.

T'ela smiles behind the kiss, and doesn't pull away; this is most likely far closer to what she had in mind. Tae shifts a heartbeat behind Puo, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around him, just in case. Even if it is unlikely he'd suddenly decide to get up and leave, she's not taking any chances, and therefor molds her body up against him with another wriggle. Dark eyes are half-shut in a surprisingly demure expression, though the gaze beneath the lashes is bright, and firmly locked on the bronzerider.

If O'kano had any thoughts about escaping, they've been banished by now, and slid into the impossible realm as Tae slides closer. And when he does pull away, it's only to come up for air, so to speak, for Puo dives right back down with a more insistant kiss -- nothing's demure about him. When the line of Tae's jaw ends, the caressing finger slips from face to neck, and travels down this, instead, and Pu attempts to insert his other hand behind the brownrider's back.

T'ela is just a tad bit taken by surprise, perhaps, for her grip loosens a fractional margin; eyes slip nearly shut, then flutter back open to lock on Puo's face. Squirming, she pulls away just enough to tilt her head to the side and trail kisses back along towards bronzerider's ear, then back again; quite content is she to shift to being held. A breathless smile, and she tilts her head the side feline-esquely at the touch, only then returning her lips to his.

O'kano's own eyes are half-shut, both watching for reactions and reacting himself. The bronzerider draws back some, at first, when T'ela's lips leave his, instinctively afraid to have overstepped his bounds; that half-formed fear is allayed soon enough, and a sharp intake of breath greets the change. His own grasp around the brownrider's shoulders tightens, then, and after a wordless murmur, he reciprocates and falls back into that kiss.

Fade to black!