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With great, great delicacy Tyila took the huge woven basket full of odds and ends from Mishaath's claws. The pair had, after arriving at the weyr, been placed in a small, out of the way weyr suited to their status. It'd been a bit isolated, dusty from disuse, and entirely to her liking, having spent the first twenty turns of her life around perhaps at most fifty people. It was almost crippling, the number of people here in High Reaches, and she felt like an anxious mess any time she had to even go out in the halls or to the kitchens. So many people...and dragons, too, all seeming to look down down down at her and Mishaath.

And still it was miles and miles better than life had ever been, before...

She sighed, feeling calm rush through her at the combination of her dragon's touch and the growing familiarity of T'rel's weyr. He'd been very gentle with her, patient too, waiting until she felt much more at ease before asking her to join him. His ledge, he'd claimed, could fit two green dragons easily, and then if she woke, screaming, from nightmares he wouldn't have to run so far to get to her.

She'd been very nervous at first, certain that he'd no doubt grow tired of her fragility, the level of need she'd placed on him since coming here...but he was insistent. And that was why, at last, she was moving the meager pile of her belongings to his weyr. It wasn't much, but it was still more than she'd ever owned. And now, she had no idea where to put it as she stared balefully around his semi-familiar rooms.

Despite his efforts not to scare her, Tyila still startled at his voice suddenly over her shoulder. "O-oh, T'rel! You about stopped my heart," She sighed, thought the words came with a timid smile. She shifted the large basket of odds and ends of hers in her arms, glancing from the young man's face down to the box in his hands. A gift? For her? She'd...really never gotten a gift before, unless you counted Mishaath.

And I was teh very best gift, wasn't I Tyila? Oh, but the time I found that shiny rock was nice too! And the time with that funny tangled up bunch of vines! And the time... Tyila mentally shushed the rambling green, a fond burst of love rushing through her for the dragon. She felt...just surrounded by love. "It's very nice of you, T'rel, y-you know you didn't have to...right?" She took a moment to set the basket aside before gingerly taking the box. Just tearing it open seemed rude, but she also didn't want to seem disinterested... This thing, the entire concept of this sort of relationship, was outside of her experience. Before T'rel, before the weyr, all of her encounters with men had been...well. No point in ruining the present with those sorts of memories.

Gingerly she worked the box open, and couldn't smother her coo at the little blue firelizard toy tucked inside. "It's...it's so cute!"

She delicately plucked up the firelizard toy from its wrappings before handing the now-empty box back to T'rel. Eight months at the weyr and she still found it difficult to save every scrap and item that came into her possession. Life in the wilds had made her keenly aware of potential scarcity, though she had been working on not hoarding. Especially now that she would be sharing a weyr (what if T'rel changed his mind, decided she wsn't worth the trouble?) she would try to be normal, she decided as she snuggled the tiny blue plush. "He's so precious. Just tiny..." She ran a finger over one of the seams, feeling how the two different patches of fabric had been joined. In a moment of boldness she rose up onto her toes to press a fond if chaste kiss to T'rel's jaw before ducking away, hiding her blush in the action of placing the toy just so on the table beside the side of the bed T'rel had declared as hers. "He'll be Soapsand," She decided. Perfect.

That done, she moved to take T'rel's hand again between hers. "S-so, I've been here before but...maybe give me a tour?" She had never been in his weyr for more than a candlemark or two and though she thought she knew the layout, better safe than sorry. She didn't want to dump her things in the wrong place.

If T'rel was in awe to think they'd become weyrmates, Tyila was beyond it. Until thread had come, her life had promised to be nothing but stealing and hiding and struggling not to starve. The closest she would have had to a potential weyrmate, 8 months ago, was the unwanted advances of the only other rider in their group. He'd been aggressive and cruel, and to compare him to the man who had been nothing but kind to her, shown her that life could be more than fear and pain, had always treated her like she was gold instead of green...? It was like comparing night to day and a cool rain to thread.

She let him lead her about, making a note of everything. She had no idea what she might need the spare room for, and wondered in passing if T'rel ever felt overwhelmed enough to need to hide away like that. She didn't ask. She quickly tucked away her meager possessions in the chest, though it gave her pause to realize that she could almost fill it now...when had she become so wealthy? It felt like she was on another planet, in another life. A mental touch from Mishaath brought her back, and she let herself sit down on the edge of the bed, extending a hand to T'rel to coax him to sit beside her.

"...Thank you, T'rel. For this, I mean, and for..." Tears started to bubble up in the corners of her eyes. She was just so very happy, and he'd done so much to help make that happen.

She sagged against T'rel's side, letting him hold her, hide her away from sight (not that anyone was looking). It always made her feel safe, like nothing could get to her past him. Defended, in a way she hadn't felt even when her parents were alive. She was as red as an angry firelizard's eye when he smooched her cheek, but she nodded all the same. "She likes Tyalith, a lot, she tells me. She didn't have any dragon friends before here, and Tyalith was the first green she'd ever met...I think she thinks of her as a big sister, sort of." It was the truth, too. Mishaath had nothing but good to say about T'rel's green.

She reached out, one hand fisting in the side of his tunic. It wasn't a gesture of fear, just wanting him to stay nearby. "I-is there anything else I should know? I mean...about what you like to do or how you like to live?" She was wracking her brain to think of anything. "L-like no boots past the door, just sandals, or, if you maybe don't like the bed to be left unmade?" Despite loving him, despite knowing he loved her, she was going to be a bit anxious about stepping on his toes for a while at least.

Tyila was never really certain how to take T'rel's compliments. She knew he meant them, and that there were no intentions behind them, but it was still...new. How often had she been complimented before? When had it been genuine? Perhaps once or twice, but those memories were associated with bad people and bad times and any number of other bad things, and so really they didn't count at all. T'rel's mouth was full of nothing but kind things for her. It was really something else.

She shook her head at his question. "It won't bother me." Before, in the wilds, there had always been noise in the camp. People talking, clattering around, music (though usually badly played), fighting...a little guitar wouldn't keep her from sleeping. "And if it wakes me up, well...well maybe we could talk, and then maybe if something's bothering you...?" She shrugged against him. "Maybe having someone to talk to would help you sleep?"

Out on the ledge Mishaath gave a luxurious stretch, wings flaring wide as she worked herself down into settling in for the evening. It was clear to her that her rider wasn't planning to go anywhere beyond this little corner of the world for the foreseeable future. She briefly regarded the other green, blue-soft eyes whirling. Tyalith had always been an agreeable dragon. About her own size, (though less fast, she was fairly sure), she was not threatening. And her name was nearly the same as her Tyila's! That was worth her immediate attention and affection, right? She crooned to the other green, hanging back near the ledge to let Tyalith pick out where and on what and how she'd sleep first. They might both live here now, but Tyalith had been here first, and should get to keep whichever bed or arrangement she'd adopted. And Mishaath had always been a bit too timid to insist upon anything.

Tyila just shook her head. "You always say that," And he always did. "I guess then I'd have to sing you a lullaby instead. I don't want you to get in trouble because you didn't sleep." Especially if he botched a drill or maneuver because of her. He'd all but saved her, she couldn't do that to him.

Mishaath cooed back at Tyalith when the larger green invited her to share her favored spot. She had...never slept beside another dragon. Since the day she'd hatched, the only other dragon she'd had even more than passing contact with was Vigmalath (though thankfully her short memory had already wiped the blue from her mind) and he had never been the sort anyone but his tunnelsnake rider would want to be near.

Thank you, thank you, She thrummed as she sidled nearer, not quite up against the other green (even that would take time yet), but near enough. She glanced up, stars glinting off the sheen of her whirling eyes. I can see them, yes. They are lovely, but, uh, but I... She shrank back a bit on the ledge, until the stars were obscured by the overhanging stone ledge. She might not remember either reason that Tyila had impressed upon her for wanting to be away from sight of the sky, but she knew it had been important for so long that she didn't think she would ever be comfortable dozing in the open.

Tyila couldn't smother the gulp of laughter, and she shook her head, sending loose hair flying. "I, I never said it'd be any good...!" Honestly she'd always been too soft spoken to have any real volume as a singer, and was probably mediocre at best. Still, if it'd help him sleep...