Deinha takes a visit to see her beloved/betrothed, Valien, only to discover he's not so patently in love with her as she'd thought... What to do next? Thank goodness for R'ken.

Whiterun hold, hub of traders and travelers, stretches off to the east of this large clearing by the river. As per its name, the river is currently iced over with the cold weather. This particular area is large, with the ground just a bit slippery in the less slushy, well-trod areas. Still, it's large enough, and secure enough, to suit a dragon or two's landing, should one decide to visit.

Nasmyth slips in from *between* with a silent flick of tail, wings flaring wide as he glides ground-wards. << Not a bad-looking sort of place, >> he decides, as talons touch and scrabble for purchase. Once he settles, though, he shifts his weight to be more comfortable as R'ken turns about to fuss with straps. "How long d'you think you might be?" he wonders, though he doesn't sound as if he cares much for time. "I think, while you're checking with your fellow, I'll slip in for a mug or two -- though if you come out here first, 'Myth'll see and let me know."

Deinha looks around as they land, smile etched firmly across her lips. "How long?" She blinks, refocusing, and then shakes her head, "I honestly couldn't say, but either way, please do get in and enjoy the place, yourself. I'd feel awful if you were just going to sit here and wait." Lightly teasing, yes, but also sincere. She licks her lips, then, and runs one finger along the straps idly as she murmurs, "I've never dropped in on him like this before. I can't wait to see his face." /That/ grin is definitely one of excitement, and perhaps a hint of mischief, but she sobers a little to ask, "Do I just, ah.. slip down now?"

"As much as I'm learning to love the cold," R'ken muses, "I'd rather not go numb from it." -He- slides down, one hand keeping a firm grip on the straps as feet touch ground, and he slips a bit before finding his balance. "I do hope his expression lives up to your expectations -- and uh, you don't have to slide down. Myth?" << Of course. >> The brown casually lifts a foreleg, directing pleasantly, << Just step down, and I'll lower you. Don't worry. I'm steady. >>

Deinha merely nods at R'ken's thought, then smiles warmly at the instructions. "Oh, thanks," comes the enthusiastic response, as she takes her careful step -- one hand resting on brown hide for further assurance. .... "Well, I suppose I'll just meet up with you -- or Nasmyth here -- in a bit, then? I'll try to hurry Valien, but we /do/ obviously have some things to talk over." This last part said with a little smile.

Nasmyth lowers that forepaw with a show of care, then turns his head about to whuffle amiably. << Take your time, >> he suggests, even as R'ken nods and offers the helpful hand up for her to take, if she so wishes. "Yes, do. And careful -- it's a bit slippery here. I'll just socialize a bit, you know. I don't mind doing that in the least, as I'm in no hurry."

Deinha smiles again at Nasmyth, then accepts the helping hand. "I .. oh, thank you .. I will do that. I really can't thank you two enough for bringing me here, and..." She trails off, then grins, "Why don't I save the longer thanks for inside, actually? It's -cold- out here."

R'ken grins a bit lopsidedly, pointing out, "It's the least I can do, and it's nice to be helpful." See? He -is- nice. Just evil to candidates, is all. << Accepting to be egg-fodder will certainly be thanks enough, >> Nasmyth decides -- preparing to follow the two towards a point closer, where he can eye those entering and leaving while looking properly noble. Might even snag someone else while he's up here; who knows?

"And I /do/ appreciate it." That said, Deinha tosses a grin over her shoulder at Nasmyth, then steps toward the hold. Along the way, she lifts her head, almost as if steeling herself, then smiles and murmurs, "Here we go..."

Deinha comes rushing out of the hold and back outside, mindless of the snow packed along the trail as she manages to neither fall nor slide -- too much. Bright, wide eyes search the surrounding areas for the familiar brown dragon as she finally slows down a bit. Her cheeks are surprisingly pale for all her rushed steps, and she looks a bit ... disoriented. "N..Nasmyth? Could ... you get R'ken? Please?" comes the blind question. It's impossible to tell just what's caused her rush, but one thing's certain -- her talk could -not- have lasted long.

Nasmyth doesn't -whip- about, but he does turn rather swiftly, muzzle stretching out to blow warm breath at the girl. He even draws himself a bit closer, concerned and thoughtfully protective. << What happened? >> he wants to know, though that's followed immediately with, << I called. He comes. >> R'ken's rather abrupt about appearing -- probably without even going so far as to say his goodbyes. "Deinha..?"

Deinha comes to a complete stop, finally, and shakes her head, then takes one involuntary step closer to Nasmyth -- perhaps sensing that protective urge. "He, ah..I..." She clears her throat, tries again, "It ... wasn't a good time." She shakes her head again, then repeats, "No, not a good time at all." Only now does she glance back towards R'ken, eyes still wide. Obviously, there's something more wrong than that the boy being just too busy to talk.

Nasmyth never croons, he really doesn't, but the urge can get rather strong at times. So the rumble that he voices goes quite soft. R'ken's currently wavering -- between the urge to second the brown's earlier question, or just leave be. But he does move forward, a hand stretching out to rest on Deinha's arm, if she'll let him. "Dunno what's wrong lass," he begins, "but we at least can head back to Starmount right now, if you like." Maybe he can ask -there-.

Deinha wouldn't know the difference between a croon and a soft-rumble, just now, and the sound is a bit soothing. Without a hint (or thought) of objection to the touch, she nods dumbly and attempts a shaky smile, "I would like to go back, please, yes." She takes a step closer as well, giving up on the smile to seek out his eyes and softly ask, "Just take me away now..."

R'ken returns the smile with a considerably firmer one of his own, hand drifting supportively down to elbow. "It'll be all right," he tells her with simple confidence, even if he isn't entirely aware of the situation. "And we can talk once we get back, if you like." And with that, he directs her back to a foreleg for mounting. << It will be will. No worries. >> Though he at least refrains from deciding that he and his lifemate can take care of her, much to 'Ken's relief, no doubt.

Deinha nods, still looking a bit fazed, and follows his lead up Nasmyth. Only once she's settled up there does she murmur, still softly, "Yes, that might help. We can talk..." And she hunches down, fingers braced against the straps, drifting back into that private-thoughts state of hers, as she waits for them to get back.

Nestled in a curve of the Bowl's sides, this wide field is a usual sunning spot for dragons. At any one time up to several dozen may be found here, if it's a very sunny, warm day -- mountains of lavishly oiled hide and wingsail apparently determined to get as much in the way as possible. Further to the west a glowlit tunnel appears to sustain heavy use -- most likely the entrance to the main living caverns of the resident Weyrfolk. East, the bowl spreads wide into the very center of the Bowl.

Deinha straightens from her hunched position as she sees the now-familiar Weyr sights, blinking a bit, and then tucks her head under again, coughing twice. "It's cold..." she murmurs, as if it weren't always rather cold.

Nasmyth veins his wings and glides down towards a landing, backwinging up small cloud of snow, but no more. Not that he's -trying-, at this point. R'ken's brisk about twisting about and fussing the straps loose, adding kindly, "I know. You'll be in the caverns, though, and there you can warm your bones infront of the fire and get klah and such." He moves to dismount, stepping back for 'Myth to lift a foreleg for a step down, but still lifting the hand for support.

Deinha gives a wan smile, then carefully dismounts, taking full advantage of any and all help. Once her feet are firmly planted, though, she pauses. "Thank you..." Although she is no longer quite so pale as earlier, there's still a faintly distant look in her eyes before she turns toward the caverns, and her voice comes out soft, polite, but somewhat hollow. "It will be better inside." Warmer, she must mean. It will be warmer.

Nasmyth shifts his bulk a bit, leaning back to his haunches and straightening front legs as tail flicks restlessly. A bit feline, really. Deinha is puffed at warmly before he voices the thought that, << Warmth would do you good, I think. Your color is still a bit off, though better than it was. >> R'ken doesn't comment other than to offer the usual, "Ladies first," and a somewhat restrained hand-flourish. The brownrider himself drifts to one side and a bit to the fore, one hand slipping forward to rest on elbow. Just incase it's slippery, you know.

Deinha nods and starts walking, murmuring as she goes, "It is kind of you both to be so concerned..." And R'ken's help proves a good thing as she doesn't seem to be paying much attention to whether her feet land on snow or ice or solid ground.

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.

R'ken troops in, dropping the hand only once they've passed the door. The lass's comment receives a brief look, but nothing else. The brownrider directs, already beginning to move past towards the serving table, "Just make yourself comfortable.. I'll snag the klah and such. Want anything else, Dei?"

Deinha nods, then shakes her head, "No, no, I'm fine. Or, I'm not fine, but I don't need anything to eat." Blue eyes narrow faintly, gaining focus again, and she adds, "Just make it hot." And so she drops into the nearest empty seat, back rigid with carefully perfect posture.

R'ken's lid flickers with the faintest touch of amusement, likely unseen. At least the girl's honest. He contents himself with brief fussing, checking the few pitchers that are out until he's satisfied with finding the freshest one. Having found this, the result is eventually two mugs filled not quite to the rim which he returns to Deinha's chosen table. "Hot enough? Mind, there's nothing in it, and I didn't ask.." An ankle hooks a chair leg, tugging it out enough for him to slip into the usual sprawl.

Deinha leans forward to take the mug, fingers wrapping around it as she takes it in both hands. She shakes her head again, quickly, "It's perfect. And no, it doesn't need anything in it just now." She sits there, quietly, and just holds the mug for a moment, looking into the dark liquid. Finally, she lifts her gaze, "I suppose...I suppose you're wondering why I left in such a rush." Here she pauses again, eyes open and clear, and unwittingly reflective of her still-present distress.

R'ken is currently in the process of trying to watch subtly, without being known -- and manages this well enough until eyes are lifted. Yet instead of dropping his own tell-tale, the brownrider meets the gaze with tilted head, one brow arched somewhat. "Lady," he notes thoughtfully, "it is none of my business, and I certainly won't ask you if you'd rather I not, but you did seem.. a bit upset." And the brownrider, at his most easily melted when a lady's in the aforementioned distress, simply draws brows together in further show of concern.

Deinha shakes her head yet another time, then leans back in her chair, klah still held, rather than sipped. "I...think I would like to talk. It might help. Mother always thought so, but then...she just wanted me to tell /her/." She sits up straight again, "Oh, Mother! I'll have to tell them, too, and I .. oh, it's a mess." Finally, she ends up leaning forward, soft voice slipping out in a rush, "He's..he was with someone, R'ken. /With/ someone." She bites her lip, "And I.. oh sweet Faranth, what a fool I must have looked, running outside like that. But he was there, and the woman.. I just didn't know what to do. I don't know..." She trails off, shaking her head.

R'ken blinks a bit slowly, eyebrows lifting -up- this time as mouth twists undecidedly from one side to another. "Oh. Oh Faranth," he mutters in reply. It -is- a good thing they aren't at the Hold any longer. 'Ken's the sort that'ld give the boy just a -few- bruises. Really. Only a couple or ten. He leans forward, stretching out a hand to settle finger-tips on Deinha's shoulder. "Lass, 'm sorry." See brownrider. See brownrider at a loss for words, for one of those few times in his life.

Deinha just looks back down again, now that she's gotten the words out. At rider's touch, though, she lifts her eyes again, "It's not your fault," comes the automatic reply, before she echoes, "It's mine. No, not mine...I think." This very last addressed to herself, really. Now to the rider, she murmurs, "I thought he really.." She stops, starts again, "That this wasn't just something our parents arranged. But I guess..." Again, she trails off, sits more upright in her chair, and finally clears her throat, gaze turning direct. "He said things to me that he had no right saying, not ... not unless he thinks of things awfully different than I do. Because you just don't go out and do that, not if you really.." She looks away, then, finishing more softly, "Not if you really love someone." And with that last statement, she quiets suddenly.

"I know," responds the brownrider frankly. "I've not a thing in it, really, but you do have my sympathy -- for what little it's worth." R'ken withdraws his hands, recalling his klah. The mug is lifted briefly, blown upon, then sipped as he listens. "Not your fault, either," he adds, head on one side. "But you're right about that he had no right saying that he did, when he didn't. Better that.." Pause. "Better that you found out now, then later." Even if the method that she -found- out in isn't something 'Ken himself would prefer, or wish on anyone, for that matter.

Deinha pouts, then captures her lower lip between her teeth, and finally looks back his way, "You ... you think so?" And a sigh follows, as she plays with her own mug, turning it in circles. "I guess you have a point. It's just still awfully hard to take, you know?" Her voice cracks a little on that last, but she attempts a smile, however small. And then another instinct takes over, as she leans forward, intent, "I'm really sorry to dump all this on you. It was just so sudden, I..." She shrugs, leaving it with the apology and taking her first little sip of the klah.

R'ken's lips twitch into a crooked sort of smile, faint, and he dips his head in an answering nod. "Yes, I know. Can't imagine it being not, really." Unless she weren't truely in love with the lad, which she obviously was. At least unrequited love that one is -aware- of is relatively easier to cope with. His gaze slips towards the tiny smile, and he curves his own a bit further. Then he splays his finger, making a brushing motion. "S'no worries about that, lass. If telling someone'll help in any way, I'm glad to be the person told." << We are, >> 'Myth corrects -- the eavesdropper. << It will be better. >>

Deinha certainly thought she loved him, at least, but she's trying not to think on that just now. Setting the mug down, she nods, "It has. I'm still not entirely okay -- with him. But, I don't know. I'm not in .. shock, anymore. It hurts, but I'm...trying to accept it." Her own smile brightens, faintly, "And I do appreciate your listening, both of you." She leans back, attempting humor now, "So, you don't have anything heavy you need to get off your chest, do you?" It's not exactly a hearty tease, but it's there: softly spoken, sincere in her own way, but mostly teasing.