Deinha stirs, first shiftings bringing her a little closer as she instinctively seeks out warmth...warmth..of someone? No matter. She's sleeping. She's sleeping. She's turning -- towards the warmth. Nuzzling closer again. Blinking once, twice. Stiffening, ever so slightly. Awakening.

R'ken doesn't snore, more than a faint whiff every now and then. Face is tilted down some, arm tucked possessively over waist. At movement, he murmurs a faint protest, all too comfortable and merely makes a move to tug furs closer about. Ken's not inclined to a quick wakening, by any means. Takes a good candlemark or three (and klah in excess) for him to become entirely conscious.

Deinha, on the other hand, is becoming more alert by the moment. There is a hand on her waist, the hint of a voice near her ear, a warmth not her own, a ... solid chest beneath her fingers as she explores, still not capable of processing those same sensations which are striking bells of oddity in her mind. "Mmm.." is her own sleepy, curiosity-caused murmur, before eyelashes do more than flutter, opening now to allow the young woman a lazy perusal of the man before her. The ... man?! Half-lidded eyes widen suddenly, as Deinha's wandering hand moves abruptly to R'ken's cheek. "Ken?" Voice still husky, soft, from sleep, she attempts to rouse the brownrider. The brownrider whose lifemate caught Sebayeth, who just flew in her maiden flight. Oh ... oh dear.

R'ken does infact rouse, though reluctantly, and only with a great deal of muffled grumbling, a snort, and a general - if not visual - inspection of how things stand. Or lay, as the case may be. Female. Brows beetle. A voice he knows. A concerned voice. A stiffening body. Flight, then. The wheels creak into motion protestingly to go through the process of, well, processing. Flight. Myth, yes. Myth caught-- Cam? No, no, no. That was /before/. Myth caught -- uh-oh. There's a definant wince felt as one eye - then the other - draws open to blink away sleep. "Dei." Oh dear.

At the sound of her own name, Deinha's hand drops from R'ken's cheek, curling loosely into a fist in the space between them. "I'm..." Deinha starts to say something, then stops. Frowns, but in a thoughtful way. "I'm ...not sorry," she offers abruptly. Yes, she is awake, and no, she did not jump out of the bed. For that matter, she hasn't scooted back much, either. "But.." She swallows, then drops her head down again from it's half-raised position, breaking previous (attempt at) eye contact. "This is.." she mumbles, "unexpected." Hopefully the lighting isn't good enough to show the extent of her blush. Especially so as, gaze mid-chest, Deinha's memory first starts kicking into full effect; now, she shrinks back just a bit in an embarrassed sort of way.

R'ken's coming more awake with each breath and rather wishes he could just go back to sleep, but that's becide the point. "Really. Life's rather.. full of unexpected occurences, you know." Voice is gruff until he clears it, turning his head to cough, and loosening arms somewhat to allow the moving back. Half of him would prefer to let go, the other half wouldn't -- which'll prevail? But he does shift back, one arm lifting to tuck the furs down between bodies in a vague - and rather moot and half-hearted - semblence of modesty. Then the hand's snaking back beneath, though, to find the curled hand. He makes no comment on whether or not he's sorry, choosing rather to voice his most immediate concern, "Did I-- hurt you?" Yes, well, memory's good enough to recall that he wasn't at his gentlest, and excuses of dragon passion doesn't precisely do away with the guilt.

Deinha still doesn't lift her head, not until the question. At that point, she looks very quickly up, emotions flashing through eyes that are a darker-than-typical blue with lingering hints of sleepiness (and perhaps something else). "N-no," is the faltering, half-surprised response, before Deinha tentatively straightens fingers just to curl them again -- this time around Ken's. "You did no such thing," she states, modesty set aside for the need to reassure him. "I'm .. that is, I was.." Gaze flicks down again as goldrider discards original sentence for another, more comfortable one: "You weren't the only one involved," she reminds, gently, in more comfort than reproach.

Relief flickers briefly over R'ken's face, worry-lines smoothing -- though only a little as he squints, perhaps looking for the truth of the statement. There's nothing that he finds, so he settles, soothed to some extent. Naturally, he does still gnaw on the inside of his lip as he curls his fingers around Deinha's. He lets the silence extend for a few seconds before moving to stretch, yawn, and remark ruefully, "I guess this settles it. You're stuck with me." Oh? "On the sands, that is." Better, 'Ken. Much. Yes, he /does/ jump and look ahead to safer things. Then, cautiously, "I can leave, if you want me to. Then again, I can stay, too. S'offer, and up t'you, lass." Well, he had to offer it at some point, and thusly, the sooner the better.

And a good thing it is that he clarifies, for Deinha's initial reaction is a look of very definite surprise. Then, "Mmm, in that I'm very glad Nasmyth caught -- imagine being stuck out there with a total stranger; you, 'Ken, are far from that." It's her turn to let silence take root at the offer, as speculative gaze makes its way from companion's face to the furs, and back again. Slowly. "I.." She's struggling, clearly, with some inner battle. "'Ken, you like /Cam/, don't you?" With scarcely a pause, she continues, "And I like..well .." She does pause, here, uncertainty stopping the confession before it's made.

"Myth's going to be a daddy." R'ken states this, stepping back mentally to observe this fact from various angles, before he states, "Thank Faranth, it's finally /his/ turn." He's certainly had enough, poor creature. Then silence ranges once /more/ from him, as mouth works vaguely. "I-- I--" He /likes/ Cam? Whatever happened to him deciding on these things before everyone else does? The poor fellow's still trying to come to grips with the fact. "Hmph." Then a disgruntled mutter of, "/Cam/..." before he pounces on something safer. "You like..?" /Now/ he's curious. "And I can leave, but in the offer I wasn't suggesting-- you know." It really does bug him that he tip-toes around a word, but he only huffs and goes on. "Snuggling's nice." So he /doesn't/ want to move. That'd require going out in the cold, after all.

Deinha smiles at that, something of wonder mingling with bemusement in her own expression. "New hatchlings, new dragons..yes." The second comment gets an amused lifting of brows, and a mischevious twinkling enters Dei's eyes, momentarily, as she considers teasing. But...nope. She'll play nice. Response to question gains a patient, also bemused, smile -- it's beginning to seem quite natural -- as Deinha again comments not. Returned curiosity earns a very Deinha-like wrinkling of nose, followed swiftly by, "If you can't guess, I'm not saying. Besides, ... I don't know. Maybe I don't, anyway." She's puzzled, and just a bit frustrated, by that lack of knowledge, in fact. And then, a relaxing of muscles she hadn't quite realized were tense, as Deinha smiles again and admits, "Yes, it is." That said, she gives their joined hands a little tug, asking innocently, "How do you want to lay?" The thought doesn't even cross her mind that it might be misconstrued as she yawns faintly, then continues, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but... s'cozy. Snuggling." There's a hint of slurring to the words now; Deinha's definitely relaxed from earlier beginnings of alarm.

"Mmm. I'll use that against you. Pointing from rider to rider and demanding.. /that/ him?" There's more than a bit of gentle humor in the brownrider's words -- rascal or not, he'd do no such thing. "Lucky fellow, though, if you do decide you do." Pleased and relieved that it seems he'll be allowed to stay, Ken puffs a faint chuckle. "Any which way you'd like, lass. I'm at your disposal. You can stay as you are, turn your back--" It does flit across his mind to get out and pull on slacks, at least, but again-- that'd require moving.

Deinha appreciates the humor well enough, offering a tired trail of laughter that comes out half "Mmmm" instead. The second part gets a burst of interest, or would do so, if Deinha weren't too busy chasing thoughts about themselves in the way that one does when sleep is quickly intruding. As it is, she merely murmurs, neither dubious nor anything else in particular, "If you say so..." And then another sleepy-sweet smile is given, as she's granted free reign of brownrider's body -- well, in a manner of speaking. "Oh, good." She promptly lets go of his hand altogether, moving her own fingers to his shoulder and pushing gently. "D'you mind lying on your back? You'd make ... a good pillow," she mumbles, "I think." She pauses, then, eyes gaining some greater shine of lucidity as she asks, again, "Do you? Mind?"

Or unlucky fellow, as it might be, having R'ken playing Big Brother and being watchful and protective. "I say so." And he does move so with a shifting and rustling of furs, willingly settling both shoulders to the cot and cheerfully offering a cavernous yawn. "Dei, lass, I'd only /mind/ if you asked me to sleep on the floor. Pillow as you will. And if I snore, jus' elbow me, right?"

Satisfaction greets the movement, as Deinha follows suit in shifting. With a bit of a giggle, inappropriate or not, she promises, "Okay, if your snoring .. bothers me, I'll ...be sure to..." Here, she yawns -- they're contagious, you see -- "...let you know." She leaves the one hand on outside shoulder, arm across brownrider's chest, and settles herself moreso to the side, curving her other arm above and resting her head also on his chest, body half-stretched, half-curled to touch here and there down their lengths. And if their state of (un)dress even crosses her mind before she makes contact, it apparently doesn't disturb her enough to make her pull back. He /is/ warmer than the furs alone. And she's much too sleepy to search for things peeled off in earlier haste. Then, once she's snuggled up close -- well, it's too late now. Besides, she didn't lay out on top of him, so she's not being wanton. Just ... snuggling. Cozily. And...again, she's sleepy. He's warm. End of story.

And one can't say that R'ken's that far behind, though he /does/ move to lay his hand on the arm spread over his chest, lifting head enough to brush kiss to Deinha's brow before using the other hand to snug blankets closer. And since it's probably a trifle late to wish her a good sleep, he doesn't. And no, he doesn't even snore. Now /that's/ the end of the story.