You walk up a flight of stone-cut steps into a narrow walkway lined with a sturdy railing on one side and tiered benches on the other, separated into two parts by another set of stairs. The railing blocks access to the shimmering heat of the Sands beyond, and is often a popular perch for the ever-curious firelizards. To the west the stairs lead down and out of the cavern to the main Bowl, while another set of wide stairs leads down to the Sands themselves. While a clutch is on the sands, that might not be a particularly good place to go.

On the sands, Matrith is padding his way around the clutch on the sands, dropping muzzle to inspect every egg, turning where needed and piling sand where not. Occasionally he turns head to gaze towards his dozing mate, crooning softly to her before he continues to tend the eggs. C'drel's settled near the railing, back to the galleries, watching all this with clear amusement. "You've got an awfully strong motherly streak in you, 'loved." << They need tending. I will tend them, so Khavrineth can sleep. >> "Uh-huh."

On the sands, Matrith, with sober intent, settles around his chosen egg for the day, paying particular attention to it, faint thrumming emanating from him as he gazes down at it with whirling eyes. "Oh, for Faranth's sake!" << I am greeting it! >> "Why can't you settle on a favourite, like Khavvi has?" << They are all much too nice. >> "Vain beast." Shaking head with amusement, C'drel pushes himself up to settle on the railing, only belatedly noticing the dozing girl in the galleries. "Hope you weren't here all night," bronzerider comments over, kindly.

But all good things come to an end, and so does Deinha's slumber -- in a slow rousing which she appears to prolong almost intentionally, apparently oblivious to the rider's half-query. She shifts, turns, and blinks into gradual awareness... And finally a yawn follows, at which point she scrapes one hand against her seat by accident. Her eyes flash open widely at /that/, and a mixture of grogginess and pain cause the confused, rather throaty, "Wha..Did you say somethin'?" as her eyes settle on C'drel.

On the sands, C'drel watches all this -- Deinha's awakening -- with a trace of amusement, that vanishes as the girl looks at him. "I was just saying I hoped you hadn't been here all night. Dozing like that tends to give one an awfully sore neck and suchlike." Matrith's oblivious, continuing to pay attention to his chosen egg, shying just short of humming at it, with tail flickering back and forth.

Deinha shakes her head quickly. "No, I, ah... I haven't been here that long." She frowns, "At least, I don't think so. And my finger hurts a lot more than my neck at the moment, so it just can't have been so very long." And that, it seems, is good enough logic for her, though she does mutter something at the end about not remembering having fallen asleep in the first place.

On the sands, "Don't worry.. it's awfully easy to do. Heat tends to make one drowsy. I suppose I should be grateful I'm used to it." C'drel's brow furrows, and he half leans as far as he can without falling off the railing, "Is your finger okay? I could call a healer if you need?" Or rather, Matrith could, if the bronze could be persuaded to pause in his morning greeting to the egg -- unlikely, at this point.

R'ken saunters down the steps, scrubbing hands together and still now and again glancing over his shoulder. Beam. 'Myth's -flying- again. Yes, we know 'Ken. "Cam-Cam-Cam," he calls down to the sands, quiet and cheerful in his greeting. "And this is -heat-? This is just nice weather!" claims the southern brownie, prior to twitching a grin at Deinha. "G'day, lass. What's wrong with your finger? And Cam, you are crazed, wanting to subject the poor girl to those nasty, heartless Healers." At least they aren't Jeyre?

On the sands, C'drel wobbles a bit, and has to steady himself by clutching at the railing. "Hey, 'Ken! What's got you so enthusiastic this early? Oh-- well, relative heat, anyway. This is hot for a Starmountian, y'know." He grins at the brownrider, sheepishly, "I just thought she might want some numbweed or something."

Eyes wide, the girl shakes her head in an emphatic no. There's even a hint of a blush to her cheeks. "Oh, no! That is, my finger /is/ most definitely okay." She extends her finger towards the 'rider, as if to show it off, and nods, "It just stung a bit, when I scraped it along the seat." This last is as much to R'ken as to the bronzerider, and she proceeds to clarify further, voice small but no-nosensish, "I was napping, and work up rather clumsily....but..are the healers really so bad?" She doesn't need a scrap of numbweed even, na-ah.

On the sands, C'drel dutifully leans closer to examine the finger, before relenting, "Well, it does look okay. I guess a healer isn't needed after all." Shifting shoulders, bronzerider flickers a look across the sands, fondly amused as Matrith finally curls up about the egg, hiding it from sight. Eyelids soon drop shut, although copper tailtip continues to twitch faintly. "Healers? Well, they're not /so/ bad. I guess it just depends who you get. Jeyre, for instance--" No, he didn't read 'Ken's mind. It's just the first example that popped into his head. "But he's at Azov, so there's no need to worry about it. In fact, I haven't really met any of the Starmount healers, so 'Ken'd probably know better than me."

Deinha follows his gaze towards the sands, lifting one brow at Matrith before she frowns at his lifemate's latest comment. "Does that mean I should hope not to get injured at Azov -- /if/ I ever were to go there in the first place?"

"I'm -allowed- to be enthusiastic, right?" R'ken checks, just to be sure -- and offers easy, off-handed grin. "I don't know. Or actually, I do. It's nice being able to fly again." << Most certainly, >> agrees the brown from above, stretching his neck down as 'Ken tilts his somewhat to observe said finger as well, squinting. "Doesn't look that bad." At least he doesn't have the gall to offer to kiss it to make it better. No, he waits until he's known a person for a few sevendays to do -that-. "And Healers, in general, are sadistic," is his opinion, "but they're nice enough here, really." A faint snicker escapes, then. "Jey's not -that- bad, after his fashion. He's just obnoxious, though he's certainly good at what he does." Meaning, he's good at being obnoxious. So there.

On the sands, C'drel runs hand through hair, grimacing faintly. "I don't know -- before the sun's up, you're not. But since it's past that, I guess it's okay." It's The Rule -- for people who hate early morning cheeriness. "Probably," he adds to Deinha, quirking grin, "But then, it's a long way from here to there, so I'd say you're safe. And that's good to hear, 'Ken."

Xalea wanders in from the bowl with hands behind her back and a small smile. A faint sense of disappointment enters her expression as she glances around and does not find the one she seeks. However, she cheers a bit upon seeing R'ken, wandering his way.

Deinha finally tucks her finger away again once both men have had their look, hands foldly almost primly in her lap. "Oh. Good to know; you never want to -have- to go to a healer, but ... it's still great to know they -are- available, and skilled." With a shrug, she offers, "I'm not likely to travel much more anyway, once Aewen and I finish up my dress." And enter Xalea -- Deinha glances curiously at her, smiling for a greeting.

On the sands, "Dress?" C'drel wonders, aloud, balancing on the railing between galleries and sands. "What for?" He enquires, curiously. Obviously he hasn't been too up on the gossip of late. Xalea is giving a wiggle of fingers by way of greeting.

"Yeah, I admit to this -- even if they do tend to show up when you least want them to," R'ken agrees of Healers. "But they're still evil. And Azov is a nice place to visit, really, but as to staying -- it depends on whether it grows on you or not." He does half-turn - leaning near the railing as he is, honest - and lifts hand in greeting to Xalea. "Heya. And to wear, probably, Cam."

Deinha brings her gaze back from Xalea to the balancing bronzerider, smile brightening, "For my /handfasting/." Ah, yes, youthful excitement. "I'm from Icevale, actually, and Aewen's just a distant cousin, and ...I'm Deinha." The final introduction is given right along with a rather sheepish smile. "I'm always forgetting to say that first."

On the sands, C'drel makes face over at the brownrider. "I'd figured that -- just, I don't see why having a dress made would prevent someone from travelling overly much--" Deinha's explaination, though, sets things to rights. "Oh! Well, congratulations! When is it to be? I haven't been to a good handfasting in for/ever/--" a blush, then hastily, "Not that I'm inviting myself. Really. Just commenting, is all."

"Did you get the carving?" Xalea asks of R'ken, settling down next to him in the stands. She searches for a reaction to the promised gift. A blink back towards Deinha, and she asks, "Handfasting? When is the event?" Almost in time with C'drel.

<< Why would you want to be handfasted? >> That, of course, is asked politely by Nasmyth. << Mine has explained the idea. Weyrmating is to be preferred. >> Yes, usually because there are -dragons- involved, of course. And occasionally, the idea of a nice pretty green to share one's ledge with certainly isn't to be trodden upon. "Who's the lucky fellow, if I may be so bold?" 'Ken inquires, trying so hard not to smirk at C'drel that it's impossible to believe that he isn't trying not to smirk. If you can follow that. "You turn such pretty colors, Cam. You really do." Then he turns, leaning one arm on the railing as he grins lopsidedly at Xalea. "Yeah, I did. S'lovely, Xal. 'Myth suggested it be called --" << I can speak, you know. >> Tart. << Mini-me, it should be called. >> Masmyth is Dr. Evil!

Deinha just beams at C'drel, ignoring the rambling towards the end. "Oh, I'm not sure just when yet. It's something our parents arranged, but Valien's just as glad of it as am I. He's my intended, you see." Including all three in her happy news, she announces, "We're still debating just -where- to hold the thing right now. /He/ doesn't live at Icevale -- he's a trader, you see. But...oh, /are/ you interested in coming?" As that thought finally catches up with the girl, she blinks, then smiles again. "You could probably come. I have a feeling my mother's going to arrange more than I'd wish of it, but my dad's always keen on having crowds over. He likes to feel the center of attention, especially if he thinks he's in charge." Even at /her/ handfasting? "So I'm sure you could come, if you really wanted. I don't think Valien'd mind at all. Maybe some of you even know him?" That rush out, she takes in a quick breath of air, then shrinks a little into her seat -- no doubt regretting having rushed on like so. And somewhere in the mix, she loses Nasmyth's inquiry.

Blinking, Xalea offers a shrug, "Well, I suppose, if that's what he'd like." It seems rather unimaginative to her, but she'd never say such a thing. And Masmyth, of course, would be Nasmyth's evil twin. Or a typo. Who knows. The shadow? Ahem.

On the sands, C'drel clears throat, trying not to look too embarrased. Okay, so he doesn't succeed terribly well.. but it's all in the trying, right? Um. "Oh. Well, there's plenty of places. You could always do it somewhere different -- like, say, the Red Butte. Now that would be a beautiful setting for a handfasting." What can he say, he's a sucker for a good handfasting. "Well -- if you don't mind a couple of extra's--" he glances back towards semi-dozing Matrith. "I mean, that'd be wonderful. And we could give dragon escort. Valien? Don't know the name offhand, although Tami probably would, him being a trader and all. He's not Bazrin, is he?"

Deinha looks rather embarrased herself, so /she/'s not noticing C'drel's problem. "The Red Butte? I'll have to remember that, thank you." Trying to be more proper now, she goes for nonchalance. "Yes, you would be welcome to come -- and I'm not even just fishing for an escort." With a shake of her head, she murmurs, "No, not Bazrin. He's just from over at Whiterun. That's why I thought some of you might have seen him, but .. I'll admit I'm not entirely certain -where- he goes for trading. It seems like people come to him, frequently." Except when he visits Deinha, which (she thinks) goes without saying.

"'Course I'd come," R'ken agrees amiably. "Though I wouldn't suggest spending the word too much. You'll end up having the whole weyr there." Well, teasing, but one never does know. "Huh." is his only response about the father bit, before Nasmyth resserts his question -- << But handfasting... >> The brown trails off, sounding vaguely miffed. << Handfasting is not a good thing. >> There. Even if she didn't answer him directly, he's still going to get his two marks in. "And the name doesn't ring, sorry. And well. It -is- basically a mini-him, and I'm worse at names than he is." IE, a canine would be Canine, and so forth. "But it is lovely, though. Thanks." He grins then, before "Ack!"ing in proper surprise at Arisen. "Well, look who's here!" It's another one.

Deinha is distracted fairly easily by a giggling sound. Especially one preceded by scurrying. Arisen gets a friendly, if lingering, look, before her gaze flicks to R'ken. 'Curiosity' could be spelled across her forehead and it'd be no more evident, even as she -does- refrain from actually asking anything. Instead, she just grins and wiggles her fingers in the young boy's direction.

"Yes, it is." comes the final, distracted response to one disgruntled brown dragon. "Handfasting is a very good thing, if it's the right person." So says Deinha, with all the conviction of any inexperienced adolescent concerning a sweetheart.

On the sands, C'drel bobs head, quite enthused with this idea now. "It won't be /too/ hot if it's done during winter, as well. It's out in the desert, you know -- nothing to see for miles but clear horizon. Quite inspiring." He brightens at the invitation,, "That'd be great! Just let us know when, and we'll be there for sure." Matrith's perhaps not as enthusiastic as his 'mate is. Either that, or he's catching up on sleep. "Mmm. Whiterun, eh? I'll mention it to Tami, anyway. She likes to keep a track of all the traders, in case she has need of them." Gaze flickers to the young boy. "Shells, 'Ken -- another one?" Tone is yes, teasing.

Deinha appreciates it -- C'drel's advice, that is. "Sure, or ... actually, I met her the other day, and she didn't seem to recognize his name." But, ah. The little one is a son. Amusement naturally follows as she watches Arisen with the 'aren't-kids-cute?' expression that 'only' children are apt to have.

"Yes, m'spawn," R'ken tells Deinha, cracking a grin at her questioning look. "One of three. Just my luck, eh?" Xalea's abrupt departure is blinked at then shrugged after as he straightens then leans down, in an offering of 'Up we go'. "And don't worry, 'Sen. I have no intention of telling her." Then he slants a glance at Cam, sniffs haughtily, then adds, "I can't help I have, uh, luck with the ladies. And I'm sure you remember 'Sen, right? J'en's. I get to have -all- my kids up here with me, it seems." The weyr may fear? << It is -not- a good thing. >> Nasmyth is.. argueing? << Is not. >> Grouch. 'Ken glances up, face twisting absently as he silently disapproves. << Well. It isn't. It wouldn't be good, not right. And I've not got a problem, mine. She does. >> -Rude-?

Deinha frowns, border-line pouting. "What he got against handfasting, anyway?" She muses, "It's not as if he could have been in a bad...oh!" Whether this last exclamation is directed towards Arisen or towards her own thoughts' conclusion, it's up to the listeners to guess.

On the sands, "Somewhat," C'drel answers R'ken, squinting at the boy, "Haven't seen him in a good Turn or so. Maybe I should be grateful Kin wanted to keep our two with her. Don't know how you can have a bachelor pad with three littles running around, 'Ken," bronzerider offers with wry grin. "Aye, well, Tami's been busy of late, Deinha. Distracted and suchlike, so I wouldn't be surprised that she didn't."

Deinha nods, distracted in her own right. "I'd think any weyrwoman would have the right to act distracted. And busy. I can't imagine how much work it must take." But then, she can't imagine how /anything/ goes on at a Weyr, being a holder.

Well, it's hard to do this tickling thing through thick clothing, but R'ken does make a show of squirming -- before grinning. "Aye." He wrinkles his nose at Cam, then. "I don't know, either, but I'll manage somehow. Have Akira, too, since Dot's pregnant again." And just incase -- "It's not my fault! Neither J'en nor Dot. Really." It couldn't be, unless his memory was whiped. << And -- >> "Nas/myth/." << But -- >> "Would you please let be? I don't know why --" << But I -do-. And if you'd just listen to me, you might, too. As long as she can wait until after the Hatching, then she can handfast. -Maybe-. Only maybe, though. >> 'Ken pauses at this one, brows wrinkled.

On the sands, C'drel laughs, half in sympathy, with R'ken's words. "Sure you're not a bronzerider, 'Ken? No offense, of course, 'Myth!" Fingers wiggle towards the little one, although he's slightly distracted by the brown's words, looking rather puzzled.

<< None taken, >> Nasmyth replies promptly, snaking his muzzle down from above so he can rumble thoughtfully at the stands. It's not as close as he'd like, but close enough. Understanding dawns 'pon 'Ken's expression, and he mutters at the ledges, "You could've at least waited until I actually got the transferring settled all proper-like." << I've waited long -enough-. Twice I passed by. Now, are you going to ask, or aren't you? If you do not, I shall be exceedingly displeased. >> "Oh, all -right-." 'Ken stands thoughtfully, shifting Arisen to his shoulder somewhat, and tries for as proper a look as he can manage. "Deinha, Nasmyth wishes that you stand for Matrith and Khavrineth's clutch. Do you accept?" Then, reluctantly, "You can turn the offer down, of course." << No, she can't. >> "Yes --" << I won't let her. >> Exasperated brownrider, yes.

Deinha shakes her head, giving up on Nasmyth, and looks over at the father-son pair instead. "How old did you say he ..." She trails off as R'ken starts speaking, listening to the exchange in some confusion. The end result? A wide pair of blue eyes blinking first at rider, then lifemate. "Would I /what/?" Of course, she understood the question. But she has to process it, you see, and for that, she needs some time to think.

On the sands, Matrith shifts head to better view the galleries, although he still remains curled about that dragonegg. He puffs amusedly at Nasmyth's words, muttering -- can dragons /do/ that? It comes out 'low' anyway -- under his mindtones, << Humans! >> C'drel just casts a quelling look back at his lifemate, and brightens, waiting.

And Krysanth and Anceth's -- R'ken really does -not- forget them, honest. "Would you Stand?" he repeats the question, grinning just a bit lopsidedly. "You can have time to think, if you need it." << Humans will be humans, >> Nasmyth responds in an aside to his sire, before adding aloud to the humans, << Yes, you can have time to think. As long as the eventual answer will be 'yes'. Do you now understand why you can't be handfasted? I really don't care to be rude, but sometimes it's required. >> Sort of. "You could have just asked outright, instead of vague hints, you know."

Deinha glances at Arisen, grinning despite herself. That /can't/ be the word he meant to use...can it? But she sobers with the repeated question. "I .. yes. No! Yes, I would like time to think, I mean." She nods at that, finally getting the words out straight. "I mean, I'd have to write home, and...see what they thought. But .. I couldn't really just go off and Stand, could I? I mean, then Valien would be left waiting, and .. oh, and riders don't even get handfasted...I ..." But, all of that aside, there /is/ a very definite (and typical) curiosity evident in her eyes. "But Standing's not some everyday thing, and I'd barely even /seen/ a dragon before. And all of the ones here seem so nice." So she debates, as much to herself as for the others' sakes. And she finally looks up at R'ken again, mixed emotions darkening her eyes as she attempts composure. "I /would/ like some time to consider, please?"

On the sands, C'drel taps fingers thoughtfully against the railing. "I'm sure you could visit Valien to expain it to him -- perhaps Nasmyth'd be willing to fly you over there, if he's strong enough now?" He suggests, helpfully, shuffling feet as he watches. << We dragons /are/ awfully nice, are we not? >> Matrith can't resist puffing chest at the praise, egg sitting or no.

R'ken scruffs a hand across his son's hair, pushing it back, before leaning weight on one foot. It's an absent, relaxed sort of stance as he listens, mouth twisting further in bemusement. "Aye. Being asked to Stand is not typical, and take it from a rider. It's certainly worth it to accept the offer. And riders -do- weyrmate," he adds. "Riders and non-riders. Weyrmating's basically the same as handfasting, but for the fact that there's dragons involved and such, and you can't -always- be true, though some riders do make arrangements." He does nod, then. "Of course, time. And the offer will still be there, if you decide you wish to." << And yes, I am strong enough to fly that far, >> Nasmyth replies confidently.

Deinha frowns a little, still thinking it over. "You think so?" Then she nods, making up her mind. "Yes, that would work. And I'm sure our parents would understand, as long as the two of us worked it out." Or at least, she's not going to think about their reactions just yet. "But ah..it might take a while...for the two of us to decide what to do, that is." She grins, finally, at the last, a bit of stubborness entering her voice, "He /shouldn't/ mind, in that case. If weyrmating's nearly the same, and ... that's even /if/ I actually Impressed." She beams, now that her decision's made, and goes on to compliment both dragons. "Yes, all the dragons I've met are wonderful." Because Nasmyth wasn't /really/ being rude, which makes everything forgiveable.

"Delightful," R'ken decides, grinning -- though he directs said grin between both C'drel and Deinha. "And I'm sure it'll go smoothly, no doubt. I won't explain all the chores and such about candidacy, of course, since we simply wouldn't want to scare you away." Of course not. But the tone is teasing - even if the words -are- true, somewhat - and he nods. << He would be silly if he minded, >> decides Nasmyth from above, before wondering, << When would you -- >> "Like to go? 'Myth, do you really have to steal my lines?" << Yes. And thank you, by the way. >> That to Deinha, proudly. He is not -so- wonderful, but dragons as a whole are.

Deinha hmms softly under her breath at mention of chores, "You would just fill me in later, I'm sure..When? Oh, I suppose whenever's convenient for the two of you. As long as Aewen knows I'm gone, I don't have anything urgent to settle here first." Happy as she is with this new idea, her mind's still working out details. "And probably sooner is better than later, so I don't keep Nasmyth waiting in such 'full suspense.'" She is teasing him a bit, yes. As Arisen speaks, though, her attention returns to the youngling, and she frowns in concentration before remembering, "But before you two brought all this up, I was about to ask ... how old is he?"

Deinha frowns, suddenly. "I wonder how long I was asleep earlier, though.. I was supposed to meet Aewen, and ... obviously, I got distracted." She grins. "But maybe I should hurry and try to find her?" She nods, "Yes, I can tell her about everything, and you can take me over to see Valien whenever is best for you two." Now that the thought's entered her mind, she looks quite eager to go see just /how/ late she is to meet with her cousin.