The bed's there for a reason, and that's where T'yari wakes up, despite his earlier attempts to avoid it as much as possible. Awakening comes slowly -- it's been a long night, and the poor greenrider's still sleepy. However, eyes flutter open eventually, and he drowsily peers upwards at the ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling. And with that realization comes another, and Yari quickly shutters those eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like: "Oh, Faranth." The curse is quiet, though, for he's got absolutely no intention of rousing G'nar, once he figures out that he isn't exactly alone. While cheeks suffuse with red, the young man pulls his portion of the covers up over his face -- look, he's not here.

G'nar is still asleep, sprawled over a good portion of the bed, snoring softly. Unlike you, he still has the blissful state of dreamland to cover the consequences of the previous days' activity. But for how long, what with you rummaging about like that. He grunts, then shifts, turning his head...as yet, his eyes don't open.

T'yari hides underneath his blankets as best he can; unfortunately for Yari, the majority of it's either taken by G'nar or scrunched up down by his feet. So, both thoroughly embarrassed and frantic for escape, the greenrider extends a hand and reaches over the edge of the bed, fishing around for discarded articles of clothing. He absolutely refuses to sneak a glance at the other rider and remains fairly motionless on his meager side, save for that searching hand. "It's got to be here somewhere."

"What's got to be there?" is said on a yawn, your shifting finally doing the unthinkable - waking G'nar. Who blinks blearily, trying to figure out who would be speaking in the wee hours "Dav?" No...wait. "Yari...." Yes, that would be it.

T'yari freezes upon hearing G'nar's voice. He lapses into silence, biting down hard on his bottom lip to contain another muffled epithet. It's back to hiding and pretending he's not there; maybe if he's quiet, G'nar will just go back to sleep. Or think that Yari's still dozing, and leave. Even if that's unlikely, he can hope.

G'nar yawns again, and rolls over, emphasizing the fact that he is indeed, and undeniably naked, the covers slipping off as he stretches. "Yari, you can stop hiding. It isn't going to change that it happened." My, look who's suddenly become blase.

T'yari's sleeping, remember? With covers pulled up to his nose and eyes tightly fastened shut. So the greenrider doesn't answer and misses any exposed nudity -- lucky him. Too bad that Yari's attempt at 'sleep' is competely unnatural; it doesn't take much to figure that out.

G'nar rises onto an elbow, eyeing your poor attempt at slumber with a shake of the head. "Shells....you are going to be difficult about this, aren't you? Bad enough to have to wake to a man in the same bed as myself...but one that acts more the boy." He flops back down, "We should talk about this."

"No, we shouldn't." Oops -- T'yari just gave himself away. Verbally, that is; he'd pretty much already done it already with his horrible playacting. He makes a face upon that realization, grimacing at himself. Then, after a small hesitation, the greenrider shortly states, "I don't want to talk." Then, grumbling, he can't help but add, "I am /not/ a boy."

G'nar grins, flushing a bit. "Aye...not a boy.." He murmurs. "But we do need to talk about it." And his voice is firm. "I for one want to clear things between us so we can be...friends." Very close friends, after last night, but friends nonetheless. "I won't let you ignore this. What if...it happens again?" Because it isn't as if Davoth won't chase when Nediath rises...again. And again. And agian.

That doesn't change the fact that T'yari absolutely refuses to open his eyes and look at the brownrider. "No we don't," he insists tightly, not budging. "Everything's fine." Lie, lie. "Who said I'm ignoring anything?" He sniffs. "And what's wrong with ignoring things, anyways?" The last part -- the question -- isn't answered; Yari doesn't have a response, doesn't want to have to think about it, and doesn't want to have to form one.

G'nar sighs, and runs a hand through his short locks. "Ignoring things just lets them get bigger, T'yari." Is noted softly. Even a simple Smith like G'nar knows that. "And....I don't want this between us. Shells, Kass never said this part would be worse than the other!"

"Does not," T'yari stubbornly counters. "I don't believe that." He's made ignoring things he doesn't like -- or running away from them -- an art. "And -- there's nothing." He pauses, then requests in a pained tone, "Can you just not talk about that?" Or, preferably, not talk at all. A hand emerges to make a futile shooing motion. "You sure you just don't want to leave?"

G'nar turns to stare at you, unbelieving. "No, I don't want to leave until this is resolved. Face it, Yari...you have a lifetime of this ahead of you. I'd start living with it." He sits up though, feet over the side of the bed and elbows on his knees as he holds his head in his hands. "I wish to the first egg that Kass had let me get drunk!"

"You're positive?" Yari inquires hopefully. Then, the greenrider's tone sharpens considerably as he states defensively, "I'm living just /fine./ I don't need you to lecture me on what to do -- Q'rin already tried." Multiple times, in fact, dating back to when the two were still kids. Then, grumbling, T'yari mutters, "So do I." Maybe then he wouldn't have to deal with this.

G'nar sighs, "I don't want to lecture you, T'yari...I just want..." He stops. He isn't sure what he wants. "Was it so awful then?" is whispered finally. "I mean....I thought we were friends. Was I so bad that you don't want to remember it at all?"

If T'yari wasn't red enough, those questions just worsen his state of blushing. "That wasn't--wasn't..." The greenrider trails off, unwilling to continue. It'd mean he'd have to talk about things other than denial. Neverless, he reluctantly finishes off his original phrase. "Wasn't what I meant." Yari doesn't want to elaborate, so stops at that; even those words were difficult enough to get out.

G'nar doesn't seem to be appeased. If anything, he's more upset. He gets up, striding about the room looking for discarded clothing. "No....I don't suppose you did mean that." is noted bitterly. "You think /I/ wanted this?" He turns to glare at you, shirt in hand. "Do you think /I/ want to go about wondering what in shards I'm going to do, how I'm going to deal with this....without your help?" He leans down, finding a boot. "Because unlike you, I don't have the pleasure of ignoring or forgetting. I remember, and...." He breaks off. "And you can't even look at me."

T'yari can too. He's just choosing not to. Oh-so-proper, he informs, "/I/ am giving you some privacy." Nevermind that that privacy issue was violated earlier; Yari conveniently forgets about that. "Why do you have to make such a big deal about it?" he wants to know, exasperated. "Greens rise all the time, right? So why does.../this/ have to be any different?"

G'nar just looks at you. Silent. And then, "Because this was the first one that I've been involved in. Because I didn't know what to expect. Because I didn't want Davoth to win...because....I don't know if I liked it...or if I didn't." Because poor G'nar is in complete shock at the whole thing. "Nevermind. You can have your privacy, if that's what you want. I just need to find my clothes..." He turns away, looking for his trous, his other boot....

"Oh." T'yari really can't think of a good response, so finally states his one word in a meek tone. He peeks over, briefly, shocked into opening his eyes and unintentionally seeking out the owner of the voice. Then, hastily, the greenrider remembers to avert his eyes and studies a blemish in the blanket's fabric as he struggles to sit up, cloth still modestly hugged at mid-chest. "Oh."

G'nar struggles into his clothes, obviously past the need to talk, wrapped up in his own worries now that you don't seem willing or able to share in the confusion he's feeling. Trous then shirt are slipped on, the lack of buttons on the latter bringing a pause to his dressing - then he spots his other boot, pulling the one on before going to retrieve it. It's as if he didn't even hear your less than useful utterances "You are almost in the clear, Yari. As you can see, I'm almost done."

T'yari hasn't exactly figured out if that's a good thing or a bad thing, though, and is all too aware that something's missing. So, however belatedly it is, he speaks up in an effort to 'fix things.' "You're not mad at me, are you?" Yari's tone is vaguely worried; even if he doesn't know exactly what he wants, he knows that he doesn't want that. He is, among other things, a terrible coward who hates people being mad at him. Especially those few he counts among his friends.

G'nar shoots you a look as he tugs on his other book - the burning glare of his eyes might suggest he isn't holding you high in esteem at this moment. "What do you think?" is bitten out, his tone hard, his expression harder. "You think I'm going to let you reject me, my need to talk about this, and then just smile and say, Sure thing, Yari?" As if. He straightens, running his fingers through auburn locks again, mussing the waves more, if possible. "I don't know whether I'm mad or not. I've got so many emotions mixed up inside of me right now...I don't know." He sighs - it's clear one thing emotion is definitely frustration.

Maybe? T'yari does have enough sense not to voice that as an answer. Instead, he falls silent for a moment, shooting a look towards the brownrider before his gaze drops back to his lap. "I'm not rejecting you," he states, fiddling with the edge of a sheet. After a pause, he mutters mostly to himself, "Q'rin was /so/ right." Avoiding looking at G'nar, the greenrider elaborates, "He wanted me to go meet some Fortian -- said it'd be 'good for me.' " That last bit is said rather bitterly; even though he obviously doesn't want to talk about this occurance, it's infinitely easier than discussing what just transpired. It's related, of course, but Yari doesn't mention how so; he leaves it up to G'nar to puzzle that out on his own. "I just got mad at him." A glance is flickered towards the brownrider. "I still don't see why you need to talk about it."

G'nar can't help but smile at that comment "Aye..you should have. I think I'd be like you...if Kass hadn't helped me the other night." He flushes a bit, fingering his shirt where a button should be, watching you. "I didn't...hurt you?" He'd really feel a complete ass if he did. "I mean....you know." His flush is now a full blown crimson, and he looks away. "I need to talk about it, Yari, because otherwise it won't get resolved. I don't work that way. I like my life ordered, without complications." You, at the moment, are a large complication.

T'yari slants his gaze around the room, briefly, in an attempt to locate just where his clothing is. There's a reason his fingers didn't brush it -- the majority's way on the other side. So Yari stays put, even if he's uncomfortable. "Uh." No more comments on that. He waves away the concern with a dismissive gesture, even bringing himself to state ruefully, "It wasn't just you, you know." Then, promptly, T'yari colors. "Er." Forget that. He eventually looks askance of G'nar, fully aware that his cheeks are just about as red as they'll ever get. "You're sure about that?" Yari likes to think that things resolve themselves without his help.

G'nar gathers up your clothes, having noticed your peering about for it, and dumps it on the bed, turning his back to you to stare at the wall. "I know it wasn't just me, Yari...that's the point. Don't shut me out and just ignore that I was a part of it." He rubs the back of his neck. "Why do you want to ignore it?"

T'yari quirks a brief, relieved smile and mumbles his thanks before hastening to dress himself; he fairly jumps into his own pants, only pausing to respond once those are safely fastened. By then, he's had enough time to puzzle out the beginnings of a reply. "Because I just don't --" He cuts that short and chews upon his lower lip, uncertain of how to continue and exactly what he wants to say. In the end, Yari leaves it unfinished, confused, and just grabs up his shirt instead.

G'nar nods. "Exactly..you don't want to talk about it. You don't want to involve me anymore than I already am." He kicks at the floor, looking at his boots. "It isn't as if this is going to happen again..I mean, without the dragons. But if it happens again....and maybe again after that -I'd rather be more comfortable with it. Wouldn't you?" As opposed to doing /this/ every time.

T'yari wasn't going to say that, really, and starts to form a protest as he pulls the shirt over his head, thoroughly tousling his already tangled mop of hair. "I didn't say that." In truth, Yari doesn't exactly know what he /was/ going to say, only that that wasn't it. The greenrider stays silent for a moment before answering the final part, taking the opportunity to hunt down his own footwear. "Um. I guess so," he replies cautiously.

If G'nar wasn't so fond of having hair, he'd tear it out in frustration. He turns, uncaring whether you are dressed or not. "Yari, you are going to drive me insane. What do you want?" is wondered, in tones not unlike rocks being broken by a pickaxe. "Talk to me!!!!"

Lucky for T'yari, all that remains to be found and put on are those fickle boots that evade discovery. The greenrider pauses in his search, flinching first at the question, then startling again at the demand. "Okay! Okay! /Faranth./ You don't have to yell." Technically, he does, if that's the only way that he can gain Yari's full attention.

G'nar let's out an explosive breath, just watching you now that his anger and frustration are spent, and he's gotten his way...somewhat. "Good. Just...tell me how you feel about...this" He waves his hand to the room in general, the bed in particular. "Just...tell me that we can still be friends, and I won't feel horribly embarrassed every time I see you...and you won't feel the same." He wants reassurances, it seems.

Somewhat. T'yari still tries to avoid it as much as possible, scanning the room as he attempts to find the elusive footwear. "We can still be friends?" he offers, doing his best not to look towards the brownrider. It's what he wanted to hear, right? The young man leaves the first request unanswered, though, and drops to hands and knees to peer under the bed. "Hah!" Out comes one of his boots.

G'nar shakes his head, defeated. "No.....I don't think we can, Yari." is said sadly "It's a shame, too. Because I really liked you. Perhaps the best out of all our fellow weyrlings, other than Catriona." He shakes his head again "Even if I couldn't teach you to use a knife, I thought we could always talk. It seems not. Fine." He finds his jacket, tugging it on. "You can't even look at me. How can you expect us to be friends?" And he moves to the exit, obviously upset by his inability to resolve the issue, to regain what he once had.

"What?" That draws T'yari's attention along with his consternation. "You're not serious." The boot is dropped -- no, thrown -- to the floor in an outward expression of the greenrider's annoyance and frustration, although he blushes immediately afterwards. Neverless, he snaps out, "I don't /understand/ you. You're..." He trails off, not sure of the proper adjective. Fickle? Yes, well, so is Yari. "You wanted to talk? Fine. Talk. I'm listening."

G'nar is half way to the door when you have your little tantrum, and he smiles, though without humor. "I'm serious, Yari. And I've done with talking. It's your turn." His eyes are hard, glittering emerald stones. "If you'd of been listening instead of trying to block it all out, maybe you would understand me."

T'yari obviously itches to pick up that boot and throw it at a better target, but, instead, he just balls his hands into fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms, and sucks in a breath in an effort to control his ire. "What," he inquires, "do you want to know? How I feel about...this? I don't /know./ Is that good enough? I don't know. I haven't decided. And Nediath's just being...herself." No help, there. As if it wasn't bad enough without an overly amorous, encouraging lifemate. "So I'm /sorry/ if I can't answer your questions more clearly." The last is stated rather sarcastically, which only makes Yari redden somewhat as he hears his own tone. "Sorry."

G'nar remains where he is, listening - at the end of your speech, he nods, a faint smile appearing. "Good. Glad to know you are as mixed up as I am. Even better is that you actually told me." He moves, but not out - rather, he walks towards you, fairly close. "Friends, Yari?" he holds out his hand as a peace offering. "I didn't mean it, you know. I couldn't not be friends with you." But hey, he finally got you to do something other than echo his own words. "We both seem to be blessed or cursed with dragons whose....needs..don't mesh with ours....maybe if we work on it, we can help each other figure out how we...feel about it. And this..." His eyes go to the bed again.

T'yari isn't, perhaps, quite so timid when he's angry. Embarrassment does set in, however, and the greenrider glances away, abashed at his own vehemence, before nodding once. "Yeah. Friends." He allows fingers to uncurl, although an edge of tension remains in both posture and voice. "Right." Since Yari isn't looking directly at G'nar, now, he misses where the other man's gaze ends up and instead scuffs at the floor with one booted toe in an unconcious mimicry of one of G'nar's earlier movements.

G'nar frowns, since you can't look at him again. "Somehow, I think you are still angry - and even more embarrassed than I am...am I right, Yari?" is asked softly. "I'm sorry that it was me that you ended up...in all, it's too bad Nediath couldn't have known Diderath would have been the better choice..for you, at least."

T'yari could, if he wanted, but disconcertment steals that desire. Eventually, he does look up to meet the brownrider's gaze, and pulls a small face. "Maybe," he fudges. "It's just -- strange." Not bad, necessarily, but strange, and T'yari isn't sure what to make of it. He rolls his eyes, stating simply, "What happened, happened. Don't apologize about it." Nediath, of course, probably lives just to make life as difficult as possible for her too-shy lifemate, but that opinion is kept quiet.

G'nar grins. "Strange is putting it mildly.." is noted with wry amusement, his voice gruff, pleased to see you acting more yourself. "And I wasn't apologizing for myself. I had no more control than you did. I'm just.....trying to make it easier."

What's sad is that T'yari's entirely himself when he's avoiding everything, too. "Eh. Well..." Well, it doesn't work? No, Yari doesn't say that, although it's considered. "Okay. Whatever." It's accepted with the typical nonchalance Yari affects whenever he isn't entirely at ease; at ease isn't what he is, even if he's more comfortable than before.

G'nar can't help but laugh, and shake his head again, and then give you a firm clap on the back. "You know...maybe you should get proddy more often. I'll actually get more than a word or two at a time out of you then." When you are proddy, you can't seem to shut up, after all. "Come on...I'm famished. You want to get something to eat?"

T'yari does his best not to stagger and straightens, pulling another disgusted face. "No thanks. I'll pass on that." Vermilion taints his cheeks once more as he remembers /that./ "Ugh -- I was awful, wasn't I?" Again, another grimace. "I'm sorry. That wasn't...me. It was interesting, to say the least." One more strange thing that comes from the so-called pleasure of riding a green. Then, nodding, Yari states, "I'd like that."

G'nar grins, seeing the humor in the situation "You kept fluttering your lashes at me, T'yari. I almost planted my fist in your face. Lucky for me, Kass...rechanneled my energy." In a very pleasant way. "Come on...bet there's some klah and meatrolls, if nothing else."

T'yari winces. "I did? Seriously?" Suffice to say, it's not exactly all that clear in his memory. "I /deserved/ to be punched." Yari gestures towards the exit. "Lead the way."

G'nar claps you on the back again, amused, "Aye..you did, actually. But I suppose you couldn't help it." And out he goes, still chuckling, obviously more at ease.