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It is not that I am frightened...just that being in the open at night can be dangerous. I do not remember why. Tyila told me so it must be true. Still, as a sign of how much the green's trust for her rider's mate's dragonhad thrived, she crept forward enough to peer up and up and up at the sky. The stars really were lovely. What were they, she wondered.

Tyila blushed deep red at T'rel's kiss, able to do little more than hide her flaming cheeks behind her pals and shake her head. What had she done to win such a good kind man? She couldn't think of a single thing but her heart was so full of love that she didn't even care.

"Your ears and mine both be saying thank you for that..."

Mishaath leaned into the nuzzle, feeling reassurance flow into her. Tyalith had become every bit an elder sibling of sorts that she could rely on, and it made her feel safe and welcome indeed. They would be safe here. They would be happy here. The change in topic threw her for a moment, but eventually the green agreed. A swim would be lovely and the water here was so sweet. She would not miss winter once it passed, but a swim could probably still be had. Maybe. Could dragons grow icicles? She'd seen some hanging on ridges of the weyr after the last storm, and it seemed terribly cold to have them. The ridges hadn't been comfortable at all to lay on. The weyr ledge was much much nicer. Or maybe if they swam they could between somewhere warmer to do it first.

"You lisped?" Tyila couldn't imagine. She was so used to the current-day, smooth, confident T'rel. She'd known a boy who lisped once...she pushed the memory away, determined to think of only happy things today of all days. Nothing sad or scary, no thank you. "That changed. You sing very well now though, so...so don't worry that I wouldn't like it, because I do."

Mishaath felt a rush of relief at the offer to sleep inside. The stars were so lovely...but her hearts were going far too fast to let her find rest out under them. Oh, yes, please Tyalith. I just...maybe we can sleep out on the ledge another night. Probably not, or not for a long time, but in a few days Mishaath wouldn't remember even this conversation, so no matter. The green got swiftly to her feet, and was scooting back towards where their riders sat without any hesitation. The rooms were built to house dragons and riders both, so there was no tight fit to get inside. She quickly found herself a little niche along the wall to tuck herself into where she could still keep a whirling eye fixed on her rider. This was just right.

"I still can't imagine it. I can't imagine you as a child at all, not really." She'd met his little brother, but it didn't seem the same. At first she'd thought the little boy was T'rel's son, and felt an aching lance of pain...But that had all been cleared up long ago. She still thought they looked different enough to not be able to fathom creche-aged T'rel...

"I'm just glad to...to not be out there any more." She glanced briefly out towards the open sky. She'd have done about anything once thread came to escape that life, and the silver threat had been the trigger that had set her off. If it hadn't been here, it'd have been somewhere else, another weyr...or between. This was the clear and obvious best choice, but fear wouldn't have made that obvious at the time. It had been perfect timing that T'rel had found her, cowering in the wilds, when he did. He'd literally saved her.

Mishaath rumbled, pleased now that the thought of being outside was behind them. Hers was here, and though happy, still fragile in a number of ways. Here was the right place to be, for them both. Maybe, when whatever worries Tyila had shared that made the green remember above almost all else to hide and be out of sight, once that too was forgotten, they could move forward.

Tyila couldn't help the slight chuckle. Now that was blatantly untrue, but equally funny to imagine. She could picture T'rel, on a dare or for a prank, buried almost entirely in the ground and squirming out like a worm after a rainstorm. "I know you'd not let hurt come to me. Anything you could stop you would." The unspoken qualm was that there were in fact things he couldn't stop, couldn't control, couldn't keep her from. Membership of the weyr came at a cost. Flying, fighting, flaming. Thread was the third most frightening thing on Pern if you asked her, and it was the first thing he couldn't stop her from encountering again.

But he could make the time between better, and keep most anything else at bay. It was more than she could have hoped for, a turn or two ago.