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"Your kindness knows no bounds," Okassis replied, returning her smirk with a foolish grin of his own. Kyllae, he decided, was one of the most interesting and engaging people he'd met at the Weyr. Or perhaps it was the circumstance. Regardless, he found himself caught up in her energy and her playfulness, impressed; she reminded him of someone, at least fleetingly, but he couldn't put a face to the impression. Maybe if he just knew a little more....

"But first, I ought to ask: Where are you from?" The youth asked her. "Much too interesting to be holdfolk; you strike me as a Weyr sort, is that right?"

"Ahh, a lady of the sea. I might have guessed," Okassis chuckled teasingly. Shards, maybe he should have! Folk from the sea, he was beginning to realize more and more, were a breed apart from the landfolk. Sure, there were more than a few Seacrafters that could bore a herdbeast to tears; but there must be something about being raised near the water that spawned a few wild souls.

"Trim?" Okassis answered, a bit surprised. It was true enough that he wasn't exactly a barrel keg, but he wasn't one of those slender boy-men, either! Splitting into a grin, he chuckled. "Well, that's true enough! I grew up on the road. Trader, you know, out always with the caravan. Have you ever seen Greystone Hold?"

"Well, you're in luck!" Okassis adjusted his grip around Kyllae's waist, taming the motions of their dance somewhat. "Because this scar you were so curious about, I happened to get at Greystone. If you'd ever gone there, I'm sure you'd have heard something about an enormous Watchwher named Greystesk, who made his home there. When I say enormous, I mean enormous! None of these little hatchlings could compare, and even a dragon might think twice before pulling up near this creature. Ornery and old and with a dislike of anything smaller than he - which was pretty much everything, when you got right down to it, so they kept him well away from most folk, in a little fenced-in yard.

"But it's late at night; moonless and starless, just a faint drizzle of grey all around. The first night in town for our caravan. My pal Jaenal and me are walking along, trying to find our way back to the north gate, and he's fardling sure that if we take this little shortcut down this alley and over this fence, we'll be right on the main street - right there, he's sure! Doesn't matter when I tell him that he's got the direction sense of a dizzy wherry, of course. He's running off, speedy fardling deadglow that he is - and so I start cursing and hurry to keep up, loyal fardling deadglow am I."

"Now, when the first of us runs by," Okassis paused to give Kyllae a proper twirl, catching her a bit closer, "Greystesk was minding his own business. Jaenal's fast on his feet, so he's clear across the yard before he begins to figure out that there's something else around, and the Watchwher's just getting his strike together. Which is where I galumphing in and wind up toe-to-toe with a cranky Wher on his own territory."

Thinking, the Trader added, "I think that's about when Jaenel called out, Shards Okassis, is that a Watchwher? Real long in the eye, he is!"

C’ren snorted, but he didn’t really argue against F’sey’s words. He didn’t have the heart to break the older man’s hope that badly. Even he had his limits. Besides, H’dra’s ignorance was far more interesting. “Qualified, you say. His only qualification is being a Bronzerider as far as I can tell, and willing to put up with Weyrlings.” Most dragonriders simply didn’t have the right temperament to be teachers. Shards, most people didn’t either! Not that C’ren thought of himself as up to the job.

But, there was one job he was up to at the moment: revenge. In particular, he was after revenge on F’sey. Now this would teach the man to say he looked like a half-drowned wherry! And a scrawny one at that too! Maybe it was the wine filling his head with such thoughts, but now he knew exactly what to do. The wineskins were open finally, and he handed one off to F’sey. He took a few hearty sips from the one he kept, still eyeing the crowd. Somewhere out there was the perfect victim… And there he was!

Flashing a genuine smile at H’dra, C’ren said, “Excuse us a moment. I need to borrow F’sey for something private.” It was a shark’s smile, the grin of some ferocious fish who had seen a fat bare-bottom bobbing in the water. Grabbing ahold of F’sey’s shoulder, he bodily tugged at the man, pulling him away from the weyrling.

Ceylith, being slightly shyer than Ialluth, hesitated before sending her greetings at the young Blue. Sure, she was older than him, but he was growing and that made things awkward. Hello. It’s nice to meet you. Please, ignore Mine; Coriath is a very handsome dragon, I’ve always thought. Of course, she was the sort who thought that every male dragon was ‘handsome’, even if he wasn’t, because someone should always hear something nice about themselves. Ours are just sore at His for the time being. I don’t know why. Being on night duty will be a great bonding experience for them.

But now she was babbling, so she quieted down. For one thing, it looked as if the wine had done the trick! Oh look, Ialluth! she bubbled happily. Mine is trying to take Yours somewhere! And he’s very happy about something! … … … oh dear… she said, after a moment of thought. Whenever he’s this happy, someone else becomes very upset shortly after…

In this case, C’ren made a beeline for Marko. He tapped the other man on the shoulder---although he had to reach far higher than he liked to admit in order to do this---and said in a bright voice, “Hi! Have you met F’sey?” there was a gesture to the older man.

Once they were fully distracted by each other----or at least he hoped it would occur like that----he skittered right back to H’dra.

"... Wh- ... Yes, I'm a man." The still drunken, still confused weyrling shook his head, blinking slightly as he allowed himself to be helped back onto his feet, one hand in Dorinelic's, one in Kiriwar's. "It's... fine?" What was the man apologizing for? Oh! The... hands, with the groping. Inappropriate touching. Dazedly, he tried to find sense in the words that were being passed back and forth, and finally homed in on Kiriwar's request. "Sure, Kiri," the new brownrider said, unconsciously giving his friend a nickname, not at all sure what dancing was supposed to consist of right now, since it had apparently involved being laid out on the floor. "... Don't look like a girl!" he protested, his manly honor somewhere, somewhere... needing to be defended. It was very lucky, but I am fast, I am! Miith, I'm fast! She didn't believe him, did she? Galliath knew that he was a fast brown, no matter what Miith said. Crooning, the dragonet shifted off of E'si enough that the young man could breathe.

"You do so. What, with a braid 'n ur dancing and 'ur face. 'S not manly!" Dorinelic swayed slightly on his feet. Looking at the new person, the smith stumbled a little backwards. "Woah~ Dinnit know you 'ad a lovur. I wasn't doing nothing!" He waved a hand about at Kiriwar. "I thought he was a girl! I swears it!" Placing a hand over his heart, he stumbled back forward.
Looking at S'van he squinted his eyes. "Still look like a gurl...but at least that mean your pretty lookin."

He nodded, and quickly responded, "K'pak now -- though I expect it'll take a bit to sink in properly... I suppose I'm lucky, I don't envy those whose name changes pretty much entirely." He reached down and gently touched the green at his side, who obligingly turned her whirling blue gaze up to Zara. She thinks I am pretty? Oh -- I know that you do, but that is because I am yours -- if she thinks so too, I like that. Tell her thank you, please... Ah yes, the draconic inclination not to speak to others than their bonded. He lightly scratched her eye-ridges as he added, "This is Amalenth, and she says thanks for the compliment."

After emitting a soft, happy croon in the direction of the two humans, Amalenth figured it would be a good idea to introduce herself to her clutchsib. Might as well make an effort to be friendly. Moving reluctantly away from K'pak's side and towards the blue, Amalenth bobbed her head in greeting. It was a little odd that he was ignoring her... But for now, with the large gold so nearby, she was willing to give Fuxith the benefit of the doubt; perhaps he simply hadn't noticed her, with his attention focused elsewhere. That was, if a bit careless, still forgivable... Hello! This feast is very loud, isn't it?