<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth thrums a faint, rose-brushed greeting. Followed shortly by a more focused << Is yours overly busy? Mine has a need to talk... >> A quivering of blue, amusement nearly, interrupts then dashes away again. << Of Flights, such as you and yours would know. >> Finally, a lilting wash of paler, lemony shades: her own, unmistakable curiosity. << And I have a few questions of my own. >> to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth responds with her warm flicker of steel-edged blue flame, << Flights are fun. >> She inquires, and contributes her own amusement: << Mine will come, but she does not sound very pleased with the idea. You are in our weyr? >> There's a pause and correction: << Our old weyr? Yours now? >> to Sebayeth

Tamial arrives shortly after, Khavrineth hanging over her shoulder and peering from side to side with obvious delight at the 'old haunt.' The woman twitches her skirts straight, and hails from partway down the tunnel, "Deinha? Khavvi said you-- needed to talk." She clears her throat, grimacing. "About things."

Deinha's been puttering about, setting things to order. Or, really, fidgeting. At the greeting, she lifts her head, hurriedly straightening and moving towards said tunnel. "Tamial, I ... yes! Yes, I do." There it is, she's wringing her hands. Of course, she also notices that gesture and stops immediately -- putting palms firmly to the seams of serviceable pants instead. "You don't really mind all *that* much, do you?" Nibbling on her lip just a bit, the girl continues, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that ... you *know* about these things." Sebayeth simply stretches her muzzle out in greeting before relaxing again, at Deinha's left. "Oh. But, please, ah... sit down if you like." She starts to gesture to one of the few chairs she's gathered, then stops. Khavvi is usually the right seat, isn't she? On that note, Deinha moves toward her own lifemate -- not so much to sit as to lean against her.

"I know what two flights taught me," Tamial corrects carefully, and her mouth twitches a little at the gesture. "Thank you, I will." And a chair she takes, because Khavrineth's ducked into the dragon cave and is poking around with little snufflings and whufflings and odd little chirrups. "I hope Sebayeth doesn't take her too personally," she adds with a wry glance toward Khavvi. "She still thinks it's hers. No," she sighs, "it's all right, that's what a mentor's for. I just..." She hesitates, looking down at Dashing, who's taken up a rather smug position in her lap. "Weyrwoman Kintari was not altogether forthcoming about the subject," she finishes finally, sounding just a bit-- stiff.

Deinha smiles at that -- it's still more than she knows. Head tilted to take in Khavrineth's explorations, Deinha shakes her head. "Oh, not at all. We're not the territorial sort, and it was yours first." The smile broadens as she turns back, "So long as she doesn't start sleeping over unexpectedly, or re-arranging furniture." Sebayeth adds her own thoughts, on that: << That might be fun, though. >> Not the furniture, the sleep-over. << Like when you were little >> Deinha's offhand mumble goes something like: "Dear, it's a joke. And my friends were invited by .. it was arranged."

She straightens again, one hand lingering on the pink-infused gold of Sebayeth's neckridges as her lifemate shifts. "Anyway, I do appreciate your coming. And hope you will be ... well, blunt, really." She smiles, "It's awkward, I know... Faranth help me, I know... but I really need it. I mean," blue eyes drift upward before shutting, "Everyone says that you've no control, once your lifemate is proddy. Or, once she flies, anyway. I guess I can believe that -- Sebayeth's already filled me with so many sensations at times that I can hardly tell whether I'm seeing blue skies, or she is." She opens her eyes, going for direct. "Anyway, I just... I don't want to *be* that out of control. And not in that way." A faint pause. "I grew up in a *Hold*. Holders don't lose control, except perhaps in the privacy of one's rooms, or with a glass too many of wine during a celebration, or... At least, I don't. My *parents* certainly don't." A sigh, drawn out until Sebayeth's gently nudging muzzle hushes her. "I'm not ready for that, Tamial. How can I ever be?"

"She might," Tamial mutters, but snuggles down in the chair, fingers stroking Dashing's shadowed neckridges, much to the little firelizard's delight. She listens, then, all the way through, and frowns thoughtfully. It's a bit before she makes her answer, with a great deal of care. "You do have some control. Khavvi's never been much of a problem about blooding, but I'm told some will fight their riders ferociously, wanting to -eat-, rather than blood. And they can't be allowed to do that." She pauses a little, an eye twitching at the corner, and sighs. "You can't be," she says simply. "You'll never be totally -ready-. But it'll happen, and then it'll be over, and you can try to forget that it did happen." A ghost of a smile rises, and falls again, fingers twining with Dashing's tail. "It is... pleasant. Afterward. There's that."

Deinha tilts her head to the side, trying to understand. Trying to accept. A hint of confusion finally surfaces, "Afterward?" Hmm. "Do you mean in knowing that it's all over for that one time?" Someone help the innocent. But wait... it's dawning on her.. "Oh! You don't mean..." Expression tilts to something near shocked horror, before she calms enough to ask, "But, Tamial? That's just it. I don't... I'm not... And I haven't..." She trails off with each attempt, scarcely noting the lack of speaking ability as she just *tries* to get the words out. "Ah... I don't *want* to be involved in it any more than the link itself requires." Sebayeth gets a quick scritch at that, "My mind is one thing, but ... my body?" She shakes her head, "There must be a way -not- to do that, Tamial. Isn't there?" No, she's not pleading -- she already did enough of that in front of the other weyrlings. "... some way to hide, to drink myself into not feeling it the same? That's just ... it's not me. It couldn't be. I mean, I know some people are fine with that, but I'm just not.. not raised for that kind of ... relationship." She frowns, tries again, "Because it's *not* really a relationship. Right? Just a .." The frown becomes a scowl, briefly, "A fling. A dirty, lusty, mindless physical thing." She shakes her head, again, leaning back against Sebayeth. "I don't want that."

"I haven't found it." Tamial leans back, her glance sympathetic, and definitely understanding. "When it comes to that, Dei, you won't -want- another option. There's nothing like a dragonflight. I still don't like them, but the end...." She smiles a tiny, wry smile. "Well, it's a little bit of payback." She twitches a little at the last, and shakes her head sharply. "It -isn't- that. Even if Matrith hadn't caught both times, it wouldn't have been that. Dei, it's another -rider- you'll be with. Any rider will understand. There's no one else can understand better. It's terrifying the first time -- but this last...." She looks away, looks back to where Khavrineth's still poking around in the little cavern. "It gets easier. And no," she adds evenly, "it probably -isn't- you. But it'll be Sebayeth -and- you. If you can let yourself enjoy it -- it's natural. It's part of being a dragonrider, and it's part of what Sebayeth is."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth rouses from her nosing about, flopping down in the cavern with a chuff of content. Home. Different home, but it -used- to be. << Dirty? It isn't dirty. It's fun. Very fast. Very hot. >> She croons appreciatively, and just a little... lasciviously. This is new for Khavvi. << Matrith is very fast. >> to Sebayeth

Deinha brushes her hair back with one hand, rejecting the first words. Then she stills -- listening. Listening intently, with a little frown of concentration that could almost be cute. "A rider..." She swallows. "I'm not trying to be rude, Tamial. Please understand that. When I say these things, it's not that I mean to be accusing others of being dirty. It's just how it makes *me* feel." Locking her hands together in front of her, tidily, she softly works her way through it... "Maybe that's just it. I don't ... it's not like there's a Matrith for Sebayeth -- a C'drel for me. So it makes it seems like an ... an invasion. Even when you tell me it's not, and when I know the other .. person isn't under any more control than I'd be. It still doesn't mean anything *here*." She lifts her hands -- still intertwined -- to her chest. Her heart. Dramatic, yes, but sincerity's the only thing shining in her eyes. "R'ken said sometimes they don't even stay the night hardly. That is, some rider I've never met could fly here from another Weyr, catch, and... and I'd never see him again? Is that how it goes?" Sounds like she misunderstood something about Sand watching, perhaps.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth listens alertly, satisfaction entering mindtones at the description. <> Just touched with the innocence that can only be hers, but determined to learn for herself, she asks << Did you expect it to be so? Was it better? Faster? >> An idle lick of flame. << More hot? >> to Khavrineth

"I know," Tamial promises gently, jaw tensing a little. She curls up in the chair, shuffling Dashing a bit, and knots her fingers behind one knee. "Before Cam, I worried. A lot," she admits. "And then I worried that Matrith wouldn't be quick enough, both then and just-- the last time. One time he may well -not- be." This clearly disconcerts her, but she swallows it and continues. "Yes, it might. S'jer -- an Azov bronzerider, someone I used to chat with -- sired a clutch here not terribly long ago. But you have an advantage over greenriders," she adds firmly. "It's a rare gold-catcher who leaves immediately. The sire typically stays on the Sands, or at least available to hunt for his mate. I know you're worried," she sighs. "I can't make you not be. But trust me when I say it will be all right. And it's all right to worry, to be afraid. Just don't be so afraid that you frighten Sebayeth."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth considers this with the faint impression of head cocking to the side. <> she decides after a bit. << It just was. They -should- fly very fast, >> she adds cheerfully, malicious in a peculiarly innocent way. << You must fly as high and as fast as you can, and then they will catch later. >> She doesn't remember her own conviction during flight that they -won't- catch at all. That's a passing thing. to Sebayeth

Deinha watches, concern beginning to show -- this time not for herself. But that line of thought is broken by the hint of a smile. "He does? Oh, of course." Food. "You...What if he were a jerk? What if he were a she...?" She shakes her head, "That'd be awkward, just as much." Finally, she licks her lips and nods. "I guess you're right." A stray glance to Sebayeth, neck angling so her hair -- it's actually unbraided this evening -- veils most of her profile. "I would never want to do that. Never." Not much of one for hiding, Deinha soon recaptures her hair, facing her mentor again. "I guess I should just try to keep in mind that there's *not* a way out, and that plenty of women before me have survived it. Maybe even found their own weyrmates that way." Good or bad, it's going to happen. Hmm....

Deinha smiles again, "Saying it and doing it are two very different things, though. Do you think it's worse to ride a male? Not knowing how many flights he'll chase, how many times he'll catch...?" Ah, yes. One of Deinha's sudden changes of thought. At least it means she's (on her way) back to normal.

"If he's a jerk, you throw him out," Tamial says warmly and with a grin that can't quite be stifled. "And what if it -is- a she?" She shrugs, nestling closer back in the chair and tickling down Dashing's back. "Z'ina is a she," the woman notes pointedly. "I spent nights with Z'ina before I'd ever truly met C'drel." She spares a look for the gold, fond -- if understandably not so fond as her look for Khavrineth. "Try," she suggests, "to remember that there's no way out of the frightening part -- that she -must- rise, that she -must- be caught. If you try to enjoy it, you might surprise yourself." She quirks a brow at the shift of topic, and just shakes her head, smiling. "I don't know. I think perhaps, yes, if you're not fond of the flights. I don't think males are as violent about it, nor quite as overwhelming, but I don't really have any way to compare. Matrith and Cam seem to enjoy themselves."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth ponders some more, nibbling between her toes in absentminded grooming. <> She remembers that, devotee of Flight as she is. <> she adds after mulling for a bit. to Sebayeth

Deinha pales slightly. "Again, I didn't mean to offend... I just...ah, I don't really understand that, myself." Yes, she's blushing. It's okay. "I know you, and Myca, and ... well, plenty of others spend your nights with other women, but..." She shrugs, trying not to be rude, "It just doesn't seem...ah... I'm not raised to that. I wouldn't...wouldn't do that by *choice* you see..." Oh, but that subject change *does* seem nice. "I guess you could be in a lot *more* flights that way," she ventures. "But I guess that would be good for some people. Rather than bad."

Tamial, despite herself, giggles and tries to muffle it behind a hand. "It's all -right-," she assures, unable to quite keep from the laughter. "There's no reason you should. Besides, it's bronzes that catch golds, most of the time. You shouldn't worry about something so minor as that, though. Honestly! Truth to tell," she adds in a confidential tone, eyebrows quirking, "a woman would be much gentler. Men can be so hasty when they're--" She pauses, searching for the right word. "Well... when the dragonlust is on them?" It's a poor substitute, and she shrugs a sheepish apology for it. "I'm just as glad Khavvi doesn't fly often. I don't mind -- spending a night with someone -- and flights are -interesting-, certainly... but I'd rather take things on my own terms when I can."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth responds with character interest. <> A flick of nearly vermillion wafts across her thoughts, purely female in nature. <> she stretches her talons before her, <> With that, she is content to lay there, tail sweeping across the floor once or twice when Deinha manages to scritch just the right spot... to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth agrees most assuredly. << It's nice up high even when you're not being chased, >> she notes, the words filled with sharp memories of the high-air chill, the whisk of the wind, the ice that fills the clouds. << Pleasant. The air bites. >> to Sebayeth

Deinha appears to relax at the giggling, rather than taking umbrage. Cute as she'd be looking indignant, it's much more true to her form to feel soothed by the laughter. And thus it is that she can take the words that follow -- on women being gentle -- in stride. "Hmm," is her answer to that. Nothing more. And if she blanches a bit at the following description of men, well... she remains silent. At the very last, though, Deinha sighs, "I know what you mean." But she smiles, too, now that she's really begun to accept this whole flying thing. "And.. you are sure I can't just hide away with a wineskin?" The smile broadens. She's actually *teasing*. Mostly.

"You probably could," Tamial admits, tipping her head much as Khavvi often does. "If you were thinking straight enough. Faranth knows, I -tried- that the first time, but the thought went right out of my head when Khavvi left the ground, along with everything else. They really are quite overwhelming when they're blooding, and afterward." But her smile returns to stay, and she rubs soothingly under Dashing's lifted chin. "You..." She hesitates. "Well, you might want to--" And now she actually blushes, if only the faintest bit. "You said to be blunt," she declares after a moment. "You might want to find someone to-- spend a night with-- before she rises. So you know, and so you're not... frightened worse than you will be."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth manages a rather delighted, sighing tendril of palest-spun gold. << Fire burns. Air bites. >> Echoing glimpses of orange and blue backlight her more peachy shades of repose, each in turn, before she offers a simple: <> to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth purrs at that, appreciation at appreciated. << With this? >> she asks, twirling flickets of blue-fire sparks, her favorite mind-toys. The same fire licks all around her thoughts, curling and twining and warming. << Air does bite. Fire may bite, but fire burns. The air in the high-places is almost as cold as between, but it moves. >> to Sebayeth

"I... oh?" Tamial's not the only one blushing -- Deinha, too, has turned a rather bright shade of pink. "Oh." No, she can speak clearly. Just not at the moment. Fingers clenching as she grasps at words, Deinha finally settles on -- "I ... hm... that ... might help. Maybe." Tentative, yes. "But.. I don't think I would ask anyone. I don't know." Again that reflexive interlocking of fingers. "It hardly seems like something you just ask. And there ..." Whatever else the Weyrling has to say is left unspoken, though it appears she's still musing to herself over the situation. Taken it rather seriously, she has. "If I have to do it anyway, at some time... on your own terms, you'd said..." Muttering mainly to herself, at that.

"I'm sorry." Tamial even does sound sorry. Slightly. "But I had to suggest it -- it's something to think about, if nothing else. A... another rider would be your best... choice." She brushes hair back behind an ear, studying Dashing rather than meet eyes and risk further embarrassment on your part. "R'ken is a sweet man. You might ask him. I believe he'd understand." She grins, then smothers it almost immediately. "Or perhaps O'kano."

Deinha says, "R'ken?! Oh, but he's *too* sweet. And he's seen me through so much before, I'd feel plain *odd* asking such a thing." Or maybe not, considering the circumstance. Whatever avoidance you may be doing, Deinha's regard flicks straight to you at the second suggestion. Again, she takes it perfectly seriously, "O'kano? But he'd never do such a thing. Much too Weyr-like." Blush. "Not that I'd ask him, anyway."

"Who said anything about asking?" Tamial chuckles quietly, quirking a brow at you. "Dei, haven't you ever asked someone something without -asking- it directly? There are subtle ways of doing it. You can even make them think it's their idea, if you're careful. O'kano might respond to that. I know R'ken would, though he might be a bit shy." Funny, how dry the latter is. "Might. Just think about it."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth is more the sort to << Mmmmm. >> Shades and pitch of mindvoice both rising and falling, the younger gold returns the simple pleasure that is listening. A moment, maybe two, of softer plays-on-light before she answers, solemn, <> Warmth suffuses, then fades in favor of the perfect crispness earlier describes. Just as suddenly, that, too, is whisked away. << But painful when you get too close. >> to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth agrees, comparing, thoughtfully, the sensations of fire and ice. << Fire is more painful, >> she decides, << but ice can be painful without harming. Sometimes it feels very good. >> She, at least, loves to dive through hail-touched clouds, as long as she's not bearing her less hotblooded rider. to Sebayeth

Deinha shakes her head slowly. "I hadn't thought of it that way..." Obviously. Her lips twitch, just slightly, before a full grin appears. "You want me to... to *seduce* him?" Aha! Holdbred or no, she's looking quite amused. And just a bit intrigued. "My mother would be..." Color fades just a bit before Deinha shakes her head, again. "It'd certainly surprise some people. But I don't think I even could ... it's just devious, I suppose." She really sounds less like she's scolding the thought, and more ... regretful, really. Still, she's smiling fully now. "Really, Tamial, it's not something they teach at holds -- how to seduce a man, and make him think it was his idea!"

"Your mother is not Weyrfolk," Tamial points out, the smile just amused now. "And never will be. Being a dragonrider -- it's not being a Holder, or even a Trader." <> floats out of the cavern on blue-flame tendrils, then fades. The smile twitches, and steadies. "There's no reason to be public about it, for goodness' sake. There are plenty to be -quiet- about it. And isn't it?" she adds archly, brow quirking as well. "I've never known children of the right age to avoid learning about their peers."

Deinha blinks, "Of course." Of course. Her own stance shifting as she considers the observation on adolescents, Deinha eventually murmurs, "Well. That's children's games, though. Where it's curiosity and little more, and fairly innocent on the whole. You're talking ... seduction." A faint pause, then: "That's something more -- something for men and women. And it's not a game." Another pause. "Is it?"

"Why can't it be?" Tamial, though she's still clearly amused, is also honest. "I grew up in a Trader camp, where it often -was- a game. There's nothing wrong with a little bedsharing, so long as you're not doing it with relatives, after all. True," she adds, "we know a few secrets for preventing more children that dragonriders don't need. Betweening takes care of that problem, I'm told." Her brows crease in momentary concern, then she shakes that off. "It's not so worrisome as you think, Dei. It doesn't have to be."

See Deinha listen. See Deinha's eyes go wide. "Relatives?" But she lets that slip to shut her eyes, "Children... what a thought." Eyes opening again, she shakes her head -- let *that* topic rest, as well. "Is it that easy? You make it sound like snapping your fingers is all it takes, but.. I think I'd just look .. well, ridiculous trying to *seduce* someone. It's just so out of character for me. I mean, boys are ... boys." Men are men. "Sure, some of 'em look good in their leathers, but.. I've never tried to get them *out* of their leathers before." Smiling, she tips her head to the side, "Wouldn't it seem odd if I suddenly started batting my eyes and the likes?" She does so, exaggerating, then laughs. "I can't imagine anyone actually taking that seriously!"

Tamial crinkles up her nose and giggles again. "I can't either. No, of course you don't go about it like -that-. But if you just find excuses to be around someone you're fond of, and find an excuse to give him a little peck on the cheek, well...." She grins, and smothers it most of the way again. "One thing can lead to another."

"Hmm. You know, Tamial, as long as I look at it that way, I might be able to try this. But I don't know that anything will be able to lead to anything else. It still doesn't feel quite right to me." Deinha's trying. "But I might try getting closer. Just to see if I can make it feel alright. Because if I can't..." Another shake of her head. "Then I don't want to imagine what the Flight'll be like. Or, after-the-Flight, as you say." This time, she's the one to grin. "Can I thank you again? I know it might seem odd to you, but I think it's helped -- talking about this to another goldrider, another woman. And you, in particular. You *have* been blunt enough, I hope. I'll just have to get over my own.. whatever it is that makes me hesitate. Whatever it is that keeps trying to tell me it's improper, when nearly everyone else is just relaxing and enjoying themselves."

"You'll probably keep hesitating," Tamial says, unwinding fingers from Dashing's tail. Khavrineth emerges from the cavern, looking sleepy, and pads over to sprawl behind and around her rider's chair, nose nestled against the arm of the chair. Tami pauses to stroke it, then looks back, serious. "Don't try to anticipate too much. It's not -describable-, a Flight. It's not a whole lot like sharing a bed, even with someone you love dearly. It's totally different--" She hesitates, hand resting on the end of Khavrineth's muzzle, and glances down at the dragon. "It's as close as you'll ever be to Sebayeth. You can't -get- any closer. It's frightening, but in a way, it's also terribly exhilarating."

Deinha smiles a little at that. "I'll keep that in mind. Or out of mind, worry-wise, as much as possible. I guess.. it's just another thing I'll have to learn through experience." Watching you and Khavrineth, Deinha automatically leans back a little farther against Sebayeth -- who appears to have slipped into a light doze. "Seems like that's what much of 'riding is about. The twists of high and low, and trying to find yourself some medium ground." That's why you might regret it on one breath but would never, ever, trade it in, hmm? Catching a sudden yawn behind one hand, Deinha smiles again, just a tad apologetically. "It's late. I've probably kept you from being with your 'mates, haven't I?"

"That's what it's about," Tamial agrees, almost in a whisper. She smiles at the yawn and slides from her chair, lifting Dashing to take a drowsy perch on her shoulder. "I don't need to be with them every hour of the day. It's nice not to be, sometimes. But I think all of us need sleep. Will you be all right?" she adds with a tinge of concern, scrutinizing your expression. "She probably won't rise for-- it could be as much as two turns."

Deinha nods quickly, not bothering to brighten her smile any more than it is already, but apparently not nearly as upset as earlier. "I think I will be." The smile does widen just a notch before she amends, "We will be, that is. Two more turns? But that's a max, isn't it?" Voice softening just slightly, she takes a step away from Seb to ask, "When's the earliest you've seen? Just so I know..." Control or no, she just might intend to prepare herself. A little.

"Haven't seen many," Tamial says, stroking down Khavrineth's long muzzle as they turn to move out. The dragon goes first, her tail whisking dangerously close to Tami's legs, but they know each other too closely to make a mistake. "I've heard of golds rising before being out of weyrling training." Clearly she doesn't like having to admit to it, and shows it with a slight shrug. "But that's rare. Two turns, three turns, seem to be about average. Khavvi was almost a full four. Some even come close to five, but that's as rare as the ones out of weyrling training."