You walk down the slight incline and into the glow-lit tunnel leading to an old storage cavern. The initial part of the tunnel, about a dragonlength all told, then curves to the left, cutting off the light from outside. Another three-quarter dragonlength along, the tunnel opens out onto a ramp down to the concave floor of a very large volcanic bubble-cavern.

A hollow sphere, a bubble in the volcanic rock, this converted storage cavern is a little over two and a half dragonlengths across, enough to accomodate a gold at full length. A wooden stairway leads up a spiralling set of supports. It leads to a small platform before a much smaller bubble of about half a dragonlength in diameter a bit over halfway up the main weyr wall.

The primary weyr's cupping floor holds a dragon-sized pile of blankets at one side, a little to the right and opposite the queen-sized tunnel leading back out to the bowl. A little way to the left of the tunnel, a hearth has been constructed and edged in flagstone, taking advantage of natural flues in the hole-riddled volcanic stone of the Weyr bowl wall. Its radiant warmth heats the small cavern from the floor up, although the greatest part of the heat gathers in the higher areas, especially the secondary bedroom 'bubble.' (+views)

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth sends a pink-tipped greeting, echoed by a more subtle pastel yellow swirl of questioning. <<We come. Yours is awake?>> A fading, then, though vague vanilla overtones linger in warm mind-presence as she awaits recognition and response. to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth's licking-fire response, blue-bright as lightning, is likewise warm and brilliant. << She should not be, >> she answers without more than a shred of dismay at the lateness of the hour. << She is. Come and be warm. If you bring snow in with you, >> she adds, << we can watch it disappear. >> And as afterthought, << We could put it on Matrith's nose. >> to Sebayeth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth is amused, images of dissipating whiteness replaid now and then over her normal saffron backhues until that tires, and a question forms. <<Matrith would wake up?>> Sapphire flickers, coral shivers, and a flush of lemon tanginess briefly intertwines, as she entertains this idea. <<Perhaps that is one thing best not learned to-night. Mine brings questions.>> to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth regrets, but only fleetingly. << Some other time, >> she acknowledges. << He sleeps for now. He is warm to lie against, so making him could would not be as good. >> And she adds, << Questions are almost as nice. Better than hidework. >> One guess what Tami's up late doing. to Sebayeth

And then Deinha and Sebayeth are arriving, shaking off, indeed, some of that aforementioned snow -- though not enough to do more than cause a few small puddles or two, as Deinha must have been careful to stick to the more firmly packed paths. Bundled in layers as she is, cheeks a bit reddened by a late night breeze, Deinha's movements are just a bit awkward, normal grace lost in a drawn-in waddle. And the young gold's steps are careful and precise beside her.

Tamial's perched up on the stairs, a little more than halfway up the curve of it, one shoulder tucked against an open railing, her knees supporting hides spread on her lap. Though she's ostensibly paying attention to them, more of her attention seems to have settled on Sunspark, the bronze bronze obvious on her shoulder, his tail twined around her fingers. Khavrineth lounges below, her muzzle tucked beside Matrith's where they lie together not far from the hearth, her back peppered with blotches of blue and green -- firelizards, soaking up vicarious heat. But as Deinha and Sebayeth enter, she gently raises her head, doing her best not to wake the bronze, and puffs similarly restrained greeting. Goodness, she's learning delicacy in her 'old age.' Tami glances up from working, then sets aside her things on the stair and picks her way down. "Still wet out," she hazards wryly. "Good evening, both of you."

Deinha smiles over at her mentor, lifting mittened hand in silent greeting before drawing nearer to the stairs. And Sebayeth steps more towards the pair of dragons, focusing enough on keeping long talons from making too much noise as to be nearly comical. Deinha simply watches her lifemate move off, smiling a bit, and then starts tugging at the outermost layer of clothing. "Looks like I'm..." Words are interrupted as she nips one mitten between her teeth to tug it off, then continue, "Interrupting some work of yours. Anything too important to wait a moment?"

"To hear Khavvi talk, it's important enough to wait forever." Tamial's pointed glance at the dragon in question doesn't even merit her a reproachful look, not that Khavvi's much given to reproach. She only slides over a bit, clearing room for the smaller gold near the fire, and stretches her muzzle to nose at her in contented greeting. Tami gestures to the chairs, but not as if she really expects them to come to much use; she's much more prone to perching on a draconic limb or shoulder. "As many moments as you need. As -she- probably said, I'm supposed to be asleep. I think the others already are." Hazy on 'the others.' HOW many people live here now?

Matrith continues to doze, oblivious -- he's perfectly content. He has a fire, a warm weyr, and Khavrineth to curl up with -- and probably nothing short of threadfall in the middle of an interval could rouse him enough to move. Other than the brief twitch of tail-tip, of course. Well, maybe not everyone's asleep. There's noise from the room above -- quiet, to be sure, but noise still -- as if someone's steathily padding about.

Deinha grins in response, then does indeed make use of a chair. A graceful motion soon has her seated, hands tidily folded in her lap. "She did, in fact, but then..." She makes an empty gesture, palms up, "Work's work. And at least now you have some .. had some privacy." As oblivious to the sounds from above as Matrith is to anything else, she asks, "How is everyone doing here? Isn't it.. a bit odd?" It's doubtful that was the girl's original question, but it's apparently come to mind.

Tamial's mouth twitches, but she doesn't -quite- smile. Khavrineth becomes a chair in the meantime, the crook of a hind leg a comfortable spot to settle in, especially when a loop of blue-shot tail winds around her for extra support. "Had some," she agrees with a chuckle. "Still have, when Khavvi and I go flying, or scuttle off, or when everyone else is off on drills or duties. There are certain benefits to mostly being on hidework, hmm?" She catches up the end of Khav's tail to stroke, flicking a look to the nose-end -- they're doubtless catching up on gossip, and certainly the dragon's paying no attention to the man behind the-- up the stairs. "Which part? Odd, I mean."

There's a faint thud from above, followed by a low-voiced curse that is hastily silenced. Several moments pass, before C'drel appears at the top of the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder rather than downwards, a pair of boots held in one hand. Pushing hair out of his face, he begins padding down the stairs in be-socked feet. He doesn't hear the two talking -- not yet.

Sebayeth, meanwhile, cants her own head a bit to the side in greeting, and some subtle acknowledgement. Another head tilt allows her to peer at the sleeping bronze a moment before she settles into the cleared spot to enjoy fire's warmth, pink-tipped head coming to rest nearly on the floor as she settles down. Content to stare into the ever-changing blazes, she watches. And Deinha watches Sebayeth watching the fire. "Oh?" comes the almost-distracted question, and Deinha promptly blushes, then responds slowly, "Well...I mean...it's ..what, three of you? And there're the dragons on the one hand, but.. ah...What's everybody else thinking?" Still pink-cheeked, she looks down at her fingers, which are tugging idly at her pants. That stops as soon as it's noticed, as do her words, as soon as a certain sound is noticed. A moment of stillness, then a frowning, "Did you hear that?"

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth flicks a lazy cerulean wisp your way, thought carried along for the ride <> Bright orange abruptly flares, licks across with smatterings of yellow-gold and deeper burnt hues, and a faintly acrid scent. Fading more gently than it came, sterile white replaces fire images. to Khavrineth

"What everybody else is thinking shouldn't matter, should it?" Tamial's slight grimace belies the words, though, and she gives a bit of a shrug. "It's four, except when R'ken doesn't show up," she corrects, the grimace becoming a smirk for just a moment. "Cam, Zi, Ken, and me, and the dragons. Nevermind that Zi and I take care of twenty 'lizards between us -- most of them either stay with the dragons--" Khavvi's spotted back proves that much, "or hunt for themselves, anyway. Honestly, though, it's not -that- strange. I had an uncle -- a great-uncle, actually -- who insisted he was passionately fond of his equine. Staged a handfasting... he called a hoof-fasting... and all." She pauses. "He -did- stay at the stakehold, I admit. Holders are a little more... mmm. Well, you know."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth agrees, though she twirls fireflies and willowisps of her own blue-fire signature in playful, mental display, even sending one in a sparkling curlique 'toward' you. << Fire is lovely, >> she purrs, stretching faintly translucent foreclaws toward the blaze until their tips spark golden with the glow. << As long as you don't get too close. >> Not so adept with scent-images, her own 'scent' is no more nor less than the tang of hot steel. to Sebayeth

Deinha tries to cool her cheeks, but that response isn't helping her Holdbred sensibilities any. "A .. what? Ahhh...no, I don't believe I do." Dazed at the explosion of bizarre thoughts brought to mind, she is quick to re-focus on the noise, "A ... bump, or something. Like somebody dropped something, or maybe walked into something?" Vague is her attempt at helpful, but all the same... She quickly waves one hand in dismissal, now attempting nonchalance, "Must have been one of the other three."

C'drel slows, and stills, hand resting against the banner of the stairs as he comes far enough down the curve to see below clearly -- and freezes. There are people down there -- awake. Oops. He pauses to listen a moment, then with sheepish grin continues down the stairs. "Stubbed my toe, actually," he admits, grimacing briefly as he reaches the lower level, eyes glinting in the firelight. "Good evening, ladies -- or should I say, morning?" Nevermind what /he's/ doing sneaking around this time of night.

"An equine," Tamial repeats helpfully, then cocks her head to peer toward the upper room. "I hope we didn't wake Cam up. Usually he sleeps like the dead, when he's not snoring." Unless she's exaggerating just a bit. Hard to say. Traders do learn the art of tale-telling at a very early age. "Quite a pretty equine, too. Couldn't fault his taste. But trader camps are a bit like Weyrs, I've found." She's awfully good at that poker-face. Is it true? Isn't it? "You'll find," she adds, a little more seriously and gently, "that Weyrs are much more open-minded than anywhere else but traders. I never believed it when they said dragonriders were a breed apart, but there's something-- different-- about it all." Cam's words slide in between, and she peers back and up again with a smile. "Morning, I think. It ought to be. I hope you don't mind-- Deinha and Sebayeth decided to drop in."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth reponds with youthful pleasure, brilliant blue wrapped into her own images, echoed in a dimmer hue of her own imitation as she plays briefly with tendrils of color. <> Soft pink comes into play again, backlit with paler hints of the dancing fireglow. And shadow then assumes it's place, blue dipping and fading as much for her own amusement. to Khavrineth

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth, with characteristic-if-rare practicality, comments, << Well, it -hurts- if you get too close, and I don't see why you'd want to hurt. >> She flexes her claws, tendons shifting fluidly beneath the soft hide; in the firelight its pale, pale golden dims almost to nothing, bringing out the rich blues that counterpoint the color, only shimmers in regular light. << Thought-fire does what you want it to, >> she adds, << but does not warm. They are both good. Thought is better, though. It's blue. >> Hers, anyway. And blue is, of course, the epitome. to Sebayeth

Deinha simply watches Tamial with a faintly distrusting air, yet signs of revulsion are there as well, as she's lured into the story. "Traders, too? That might have helped..." But she smiles at the last, nodding, "Just from this little bit as a Weyrling, I've seen...experienced...so many new things." And, finally, her head turns at the sound of a new voice, smile widening a bit before she asks, "Oh, I hope you're okay?" Though obviously, he's walking. The polite, "Good morning" follows dutifully at the end.

C'drel pauses, settling on the bottom step to slide on boots, before edging around various dragons to come within the circle of firelight. He reaches hand out to hover just shy of touching Matrith's muzzle, drawing back at the last minute before he pads over to Khavrineth, smiling up at the gold before turning attention to her rider; a brief, affectionate kiss in greeting. "No, no, I don't mind at all," he assures as he straightens and turns, offering warm smile to Deinha, "You and Sebayath are well, I trust-- shells, but she's grown," he adds admiringly as glance slides towards the younger gold. Sheepishly, "Oh, fine, fine. You're not scaring poor Deinha with your trader tales are you, Tami?"

"You get used to it." Tamial dismisses it with that, quite content to move on while the topic's 'hot,' so to speak. "We were just talking about our living arrangements," she informs Cam, stroking a hand down the lightly ridged length of Khav's tail, tracing wisps of blue tone. "And Weyr life. All the things you're supposed to know before you get here," she adds rather impishly. "Not everyone has the fortune to be raised in a trader camp." Khavrineth puffs affectionately at the bronzerider, though distracted by conversation with Sebayeth, and Tami returns the kiss with interest-accrued by Khav's more perfunctory effort. "Scaring?" Wide eyes. "Me? No, of course not." Disgusting, maybe.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth wouldn't think of contradicting that, which may well explain the momentary quiet from younger dragon's side before she answers <<Yours is so crisp. Jharzeth's is darker.>> Her own tendencies are towards the softer shades, of course. <<But it doesn't work the same with Others.>> Not-dragons, as faint, muddied images will attest. Riders. Her rider. <> Confusion surfaces, then washes away in bright, triumphant goldenrod <<Feel things the same.>> to Khavrineth

Deinha averts her eyes to Sebayeth as C'drel greets Tamial, but that may be blamed on habit as much as anything else. Either way, it leaves her free to answer that second comment easily enough, "Oh, she has." A smile, at that. "It seems like so much time has passed, and yet..." Suddenly, the girl's face lights up, "And that's what I meant to ask!" Whirling 'round to face the riders again, she announces, "Tomorrow...today ... is my turnday." A pause, then an afterthought: "18th."

"Ah--" a hesitation on C'drel's part, at the mention of living arrangements. Not even /he's/ quite sure what's going on there. He tugs at tunic, settling it more firmly into place. "Huh. All the things you're /supposed/ to know seem to end up seem to end up-- different," he responds with rueful twist of lips. Tamial is given wry look, the bronzerider clearly not crediting her words, though he doesn't seem about to pursue it. Deinha's statement draws his attention, and he brightens considerably. "Oh, that's wonderful! Are you going to have some sort of celebration? If you tell the Weyrlingmasters, they /might/ even let you off chores for a few hours," he chuckles briefly.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth tilts her head, more mental than physical. <> she says consideringly. << Mine has spoken to Jharzeth's rider, though. She did not like him before. Now she does -- some. >> More considering. << No, the quiet ones don't sound the same. You can talk to them, though, >> she assures. <> She snorts a little at the declaration, agreeing, << Not at all the same. They miss many things. >> to Sebayeth

"Don't they, just," Tamial sighs, more a laugh than anything else. "Speaking of which, Cam-- we need to see about hiring back Trever to see if there's an extra cavern anywhere near here, hmm?" Deinha gets a bright smile and arch-browed look. "Really? I'd have said older," she teases. "What do you want for your turnday? And I wouldn't bet on -that-," she adds with a light jab at the bronzerider. "I remember how Weyrlingmasters are!"

Sebayeth, in contrast, follows C'drel's movements from the time he first steps near the hearth, a curiosity akin to her lifemate's evident in the steady watching. Pride of her own has the young gold lifting her head a notch at mention of herself. Deinha, on the other hand, seems almost embarassed by the bronzerider's brightening, though she's quick to respond, "I was hoping they might give me some time, actually." At Tamial's tease, she merely shrugs, beaming though, and then answers, "In that case..." Some trouble passes through her thoughts, revealed by tell-tale blue eyes, but is left alone in favor of a hesitant, "Could I possibly get some special scented oil for Sebayeth, do you think?"

C'drel slides amused glance towards Tamial, answering, "Not even a Bitran would take /that/ bet," he responds as he brushes hair back, attempting to smooth it into order. Quite uselessly. A brief pause, then a slightly puzzled, "Yes, so we do--" but, smoothly enough, he grins to Deinha, "Ah. It's always simple to find gifts for new weyrlings. Anything for their lifemates," the tone is lightly teasing, but warm, as blue eyes flicker about, in search of riding jacket.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth does not respond for some time, but eventually answers innocently <<Mine is curious about that one. But I like Jharzeth...We share puzzles>> Old talk discarded then, colors shift toward liquid uncertainty <<Frightened? What would make them so?>> Typical intrigue sets in, playing in dots and dashes, unformed peaches and blues and whispy grays... to Khavrineth

Deinha laughs -- by this, at least, she is unoffended. "Well, we can't help it. And they deserve it...Besides, a pleasant scent at the headknobs, or along the wings, perhaps, would be nice. It wouldn't ever do for oiling all of her, of course, what with her growing size." And, a bit wryly: "Not to mention the fact that we..she... itch constantly." Deinha smiles, leaning back in the chair a bit, "But it would be nice, for special times."

Traders are all-knowing, all-seeing beings, of course; at least, experienced in reading customers' faces. So Tamial doesn't miss the flicker of expression, and her teasing smile slips briefly. "I think we could pull that off," is all she answers, with a look to C'drel and back. "I'd say you should pick something for yourself, but it might as well be, mightn't it?" She's not so far out of Weyrlinghood herself, to forget that. Does any rider? "But there -are- two of us, and I'm sure if you thought you could think of something else, too...."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth slides right along with the new topic, content tonight to follow whimsy rather than cling to a thread. <> she says simply. << They often are very frightened if I speak to them. One fell over. >> Poor kitchen drudge never knew what hit him, figuratively speaking. << Some of them like being spoken to, but I never quite remember which ones, so my Tamial has said not to speak to them unless I have to. >> She conveniently forgets that, too. to Sebayeth

Deinha hmms softly, at that, sound barely leaving the back of her throat. "Oh...I suppose so." And, at that, she seems stumped, then chagrined. "I hadn't really thought about what *I* might need..." She blinks, then amends, "Or want."

"Four of us," C'drel corrects, automatically. Funny, that. "Zi, and Ken, too. Maybe a large quilt, for when Sebayeth reaches her full growth? They don't really need it, but I think it's a luxury they enjoy. Something with the Starmount colors, perhaps?" He suggests, with a grin. "Our lifemates are the ones we can spoils rotten with no feelings of guilt. As for you, Deinha -- perhaps something nice to wear? You'll have to dress up when your graduation finally comes around, and Ken and I have been meaning to get to the weavers for a while anyway.."

"A surprise, then." Tamial chuckles quietly. "I promise we won't get you a statue of a dragon." Funny how many of those get around. Cam gets a thoughtful nod, the woman nestling back more comfortably into the curve of Khavvi's leg. "Quilts are wonderful." << Blue ones. >> "Even blue ones." << Especially blue ones. >> "Good point," she adds, head cocked quizzically -- whether she picked it up from Khav or vice-versa is impossible to say. "Of course, they soak it up the way no one else will."

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Khavrineth, let it never be said, is a good role model. <> she says cheerfully. << Maybe they will like you better than me. Or they may just all fall over. >> to Sebayeth

Deinha lights up at that thought, "Oh, that could be nice! Especially since I haven't really gotten anything from..." Ahem. Pause. "...the weavers," finishes the girl, smoothly enough. Amusement returns, though, as Tamial mentions statues and blues, "Even that would be fine. It's the thought, right?"

Ahah. There's always the clue. Tamial quirks a brow again, humming deep in her throat. No, dragons don't have a monopoly on that. "What do you think, Cam, should we go drop by Icevale and see what's available there? I've never seen the place, but I've heard so much about it."

"Mmm, need isn't the question," Tamial points out lightly, the smile creeping back. "I'd -like- to visit. It's not that distant a flight." Yes, so she could get a visual from someone else, but-- well, that'd be un-Tami-like.

<*Sebayeth*> Privately, Sebayeth trembles in lily anticipation. <> A new project brings showers of brighter salmon pinks, funky oranges, even a swirl or two of raspberry brightness. to Khavrineth

[Starmount] Tam o' Shanter: Salmon and oranges and raspberries. There's a lollipop flavor to suggest to Drekyn... can we let this go into NPCland, at least on Tami's side of the conversation?

Deinha shakes her head again, in a reaction somewhat atypical for the situation, "No. *Really.* I think ..." Desperate, almost, the girl grasps, then rushes on with, "I think there's a fine Weaver here. Or something."

C'drel glances over to Deinha, tilting head thoughtfully. "Oh, I'm sure -- but they're always so busy, you know. They've got a Weyrful of people to look to, after all. It's easier to go to a smaller Hold. Besides," he adds, with conspiratory whisper, as sidelong glance takes in the dragon-distracted Tamial, "I've been meaning to find a nice gather outfit for Tami, too. We're trying to snatch her off to a gather at Igen shortly." 'We' no doubt referring to the various inhabitants of the weyr.

Deinha frowns, then manages a bright, perhaps overbright, smile, "Well, if you really don't mind traveling, then, why don't you just sneak off to somewhere with a really warm climate, more like Igen? It'd be more appropriate for the gather, and I don't really *need* a blanket. Any cute little item would do. Or nothing. The thought...?"

C'drel quirks lips, turning gaze to dozing Matrith, displaying that affectionate-pride that all riders have -- but most often seen in the weyrlings. "Well, as to that -- I think it's half an excuse to fly straight. Mat and Khavvi both love to stretch their wings, you know. And maybe we could pick up some of your things, while we're there? You know, snatch two wherries with one loop?"

Deinha coughs, then looks down to her lap, then looks back at C'drel. Finally, she leans forward and says, simply, "I don't want anything that Icevale has to offer, anymore." Pushing annoyedly at a strand of hair that's escaped her braid, she sighs, then asks, "Remember how I was supposed to get Handfasted, when I first came here? But I decided to ask ..him.. if I could just Stand, and we'd go from there...?" An expectant pause.

Deinha smiles, albeit briefly, at that, then sighs again, rather gustily. "Well...it..didn't turn out so well. You see.... he-was-there-but-with-this-woman-and-I-walked-in-on-them-and-that-was-that." Quick rush of words, barely distinguishable one from the other, is concluded with a flick of the wrist, and a last muttering (directly to her feet), "Ask R'ken sometime."

C'drel frowns briefly, taking a few moments to sort through the rush of words to the gist of the matter -- and when it comes, the bronzerider's eyes widen, in understanding -- and sympathy. "Oh-- /oh/, I'm so sorry," tone is apologetic, and he takes a step closer before halting again, chewing lower lip. "Well, /he/ doesn't know what he's missing out on, and you've the whole Weyr as your family now. And Sebayeth."

Deinha looks up, eyes fairly clear, all considered, "I'm mostly over it, now." Yet another sigh, "It's just that it was all so ugly, and I've really not cared to speak to any of them again. Not Valen, not my parents...I've been avoiding it, obviously for too long now. And I know you wouldn't know Valen if you saw him, it's just that there's this...stigma attached to the whole Icevale group now." One last, frustrated sigh, and then a smile, "I do know that. I love it here. I love Sebayeth," Deinha looks to her lifemate -- who's been remarkably quiet -- as she speaks, then back again. "I don't love him, you know. I just...haven't forgiven him yet, either." This said in a straight, level tone. A tone backed, no doubt, by great lengths of deliberation on just this subject.

C'drel perches on one of the chairs, listening closely. "I think I understand. One day, though -- you'll go back to Icevale Hold-- as Sebayeth's rider. And it won't seem so difficult then. Dragons have a tendancy to ensure their riders see things.. clearly." A rueful twist of lips. "Matrith's always saying I complicate things, just by being me." A pause, and almost in a rush, he offers, "I could slip over there one day, and have a.. a /talk/ with this Valen, if you'd like." He's quite serious, too -- almost a dragon's protectiveness of those belonging to the Weyr.

Deinha tilts her head to the side, taking her own turn at listening. At the offer, though, somber expression turns into first surprised dismay, "Oh, no, you wouldn't!" And then a flicker of amusement, "I believe R'ken expressed something of the same thought, though... He took me over -- and back -- you see." She shakes her head, "But I wouldn't really wish him harm. I'm not -that- mad, I suppose. Mostly just ... sad that he thought he ought to mislead me, and that my parents played along with it all. His, too." She shrugs, glancing suddenly toward Sebayeth, and her soft voice turns slightly regretful, a hint apologetic, "Perhaps we should be getting back, though. I'm sure you don't care to hear me air my .. grievances this early in the morning. And," a bit wryly, now, "I think the Weyrlingmasters wouldn't care to hear I'd been out all manner of morning, turnday or no."

"I wouldn't /harm/ him," C'drel answers, slowly, "Just -- ensure that he understands that one does not betray the trust of a lady." He pauses, looking mildly amused at the knowledge R'ken offered much the same. "Oh.. yes, of course. But -- Deinha, don't think you aren't welcome to come to me any time to talk. Or any of us. Our weyr is always open," he adds, with smile, "Aye, I'd imagine they'd be.. unhappy. You can tell them I delayed you, if it helps," he grins sheepishly, as he rises.

Deinha smiles, utterly happy now, "I appreciate that so much. You, R'ken, Tamial...Everyone's always willing to listen when I go off on a rave." Yes, because we all know how out of control Deinha gets... "Thanks. And, I might, if it comes down to it." Standing up, herself, she murmurs, "A good morning to you, then. I hope you can get back to sleep." Frowning, she adds, "Or work." And Sebayeth takes lifemate's rising as cue to stand, herself, and rouses in a shimmering of peachy-gold hide and a scratching of talons on floor.

"Work, I think," C'drel answers, with hint of distaste. "K'di's got me working through some hides. Might as well get something /useful/ done. Besides, it'll give us time to get something organised for a Turnday party for you, hmm?" He teases, grinning as he lifts hands. "Clear skies, to both of you."

Deinha laughs, now, "Right. To you as well. And," She leans forward, whispering, "Make sure you get Tamial something nice for that gather." Stepping back again, she offers a final, "Bye, then." And starts wrapping up again for outside, saving mittens for last. Walking as she wraps, one hand now and then touching upon Sebayeth's leg for balance, she quickly makes her way back out.