Nverath gleams with a freshly-applied coat of oil, even in the darkened night sky. And his nearly-glowing colours don't go that much against the effect either. Of course, the dragon is far more worried with admiring the stars, neck craned to full length and eyes slowly whirling a soft blue facing upwards, to care for his appearance. The white-tipped one comes to a stop, his rider taking the moment to half-lean against a wispy shoulder and hmm appreciatively for the sight pointed out to him. Sometimes there's a mood, y'know? And sometimes it's enough to stop directly in the middle of the bowl and tune out the rest of the world.

Iona will not stand for ugly weyrlings and their ugly dragonets stopped right in her path. Why walk around a mountain when you can order a team of miners to dig right through it for you? "Oh -another- one" she says with a grimace. "Don't you people -ever- get out of the way?" she comes to a halt, a few paces from the pair, hands on her hips, feet tapping- and steam incidently rising from her ears. "If I have to run around another one of -you- lot, I'll be exhausted before I get to my cot.." hiss hiss. Perhaps it's the lack of screaming children around her that makes her so unbearable? Nose twitches, and eyes focus now on the face of the rider (rather than the simple fact that there's something in her way). "Deba?" simply questioned, all puff gone from her paunch "Is that you my, dahhlink? Deba it -is- you!" watch the belly wobble now as she closes the gap between them, frown turned positively upside down. 

D'baji blinks away from his newly-influenced obsession with the patterning of the stars, raising an eyebrow towards whoever the large woman who'd be scolding him for one thing or another, his mood rather ripped apart, and himself rather flustered. Thank Faranth for Nverath, who cranes his neck away from those radiant stars for the.. Well, Iona. The bronze one whuffles in her general direction, frothy muzzle coming excedingl close before giving something of an apathetic snort, while his rider keeps up with his blinking. Finally, the name is latched on to, and the Hairy Dude nods slowly. "Look at that, so it would be," is agreed with her assessment, and he can't quite help but take a step back as she comes towards him, offering a little wavel of his fingers. "And this would be Nverath," is said with an inclination of his head towards the still-intrigued winged Companion.

Iona glares at Nverath as she's whuffled. Not because it's offensive but because, on the whole, anything associated with weyrs are an afront to her. "Don't be so rude, my cuddliepie, don't tell me the weyr has already corrupted you into not giving your headwoman a hug hello?" Yes, no matter where Deba is, Io will still consider herself his superior. Perhaps not in wits, or attractiveness, but certainly in weight. So pudgy arms are thrown wide, shoulders jiggled slightly "C'mere, Deba! C'mere! We've missed you so much!" of course she can't be an exmaple of rudeness and with her arms still expectantly open, she peers over at the bronze. "Nverath." Hmph. "So that's his name. The one that stole you from us. Tsk, tsk, darling creature, but I spose you saw in him what we all do eh?" No she's not lecturing, her voice is suprisingly nasal and upbeat. "I'm on this visit all alone, isn't that horrible? Dale's got the kids, Faranth help him" Beamkle.

D'baji reddens slightly, though he could hope it won't be noticed in the low light, and, with a bit of a sag of his shoulders, and a bracing look sent for the bronze, goes to get himself squashed in an embrace. "Well, sorry. We've been busy though. Tact must come after dragon. /Everything/ must come after dragon. Not that it's hard," is added, partially for her benefit, though more or less for Nverath, who needs no reassurance at all. "Yes. Nverath," is added a bit protectively from the Weyrling type Deba. Nverath, in the meantime, tilts his head and extends a wing for the Headwoman and her commenting, turning somewhat so that the tip of his tail might inch it's way towards her foot while D'baji provides distraction enough. "Oh, yes... Poor Dale. Does that girl of yours kick his shins too? And how's everyone at SeaCliffs?" Everyone being code word for Kristi, and then the general well-being of the hold. Pfft, and they say that when you've got a dragon you don't think of anything else.

Iona squishes Deba till she's satisfied he's got a real need for airflow and releases him, a finger twirling casually in a loop of hair near her ear- how girly! "Eli? No she's a real daddy's girl. Thinks he can do no wrong.." she summarises with a roll of her eyes. Of course, he's got her talking about home, so she won't notice Nverath, but it's always dangerous to suprise a high strung person like her innit ;P. "SeaCliffs is going to ruin, that's why I was so happy to come here for a few days..." she natters on, lips moving faster than her voice can produce the words. "Leigh and Gannon have gone missin'- Eia's certain their dead...and so the poor girl has gone nuts, and I can't do anything about it..I'm not about to run a hold on my own!" So it's entirely logical that in the hold's time of need, the headwoman does a runner. Ahem. "And Kristi- she's looking so fahhhhbulous, dahhlink, utterly gorg..of course she turns away every sweet eye on her, doesn't she?" A flap of her hand ends that part of the conversation. See? She's smart, she -knew- what he was really asking about. Beamkle. "Anyway, they better not be working you too hard, have a sweestick.." the ubiquitous lolly, yanked from a pants pocket, complete with lint.

D'baji can't help but gasp as he's released, making an effort to get his chest well expanded before grinning. "Is she, really? Well, I suppose everyone needs an idol of sorts." A pause as the grin fades ever so briefly, and he adds, "Except for Nverath." Ex-Fisherdude spares a glance for the approaching tail, shooting a cautioning look towards the beast. Last he knew, of course, this Headwoman despised a whole lot of dragonkind. "Missing? What, just... missing? Oh, well... That's not good, is it?" Note the monotony of his tone. It's called not upsetting the draconic half. Of course, most of that monotony will have to drop for just a moment when conversation is turned to the barmaid. "So she's doing well then? And really, avoidingthe 'sweet eyes?' Funny, she'd mentioned doing otherwise, and though I've replied, hasn't written me since." He sighs, that fact being a bit of a let down. Sure, sacrifice the sleep, and don't hear from them for a good long while after that. "No, thanks, really, I'm good for sweetsticks. Not hungry at the moment. Nverath's belly is bulging." Deba just doesn't get hungry anymore. "Though I suppose maybe I could keep it for later?" In the meantime, that bronze has gotten his silver-tipped tail nice and close to a certain chubby ankle. Just waiting to strike, now, not caring for warnings any other way from his lifemate. It's all an experiment in reaction, you see.

Iona nods eagerly, hands chafing her arms at the slight wind that whips up through the bowl. "Kristi told -you- she's seeing other boys?" incredulous, and ok she can't keep a secret, and spills the beans "Oh that's just what she's telling you. Good idea, probably to make it alright for you to move on with your life and forget about her...but she's pining, Deba, oh she's pining! It's truly a romantic tragedy" She dramatises, nose wrinkling. "At -least- they keep him well fed." she turns to look down her nose at the dragon, slight disdain playing at the corners of her lips. You can't change the prejudices, no matter how hard you try. "He's a good looking enough sort, that' I'll grant you. But if you were to impress -anything- isn't it nice it isn't some sodding green or blue! You were always made for great things, honeypot, not just schlepping round some drunk man's boat lugging barrels of fish..or ale" she raises an eyebrow and glances at him (perhaps a hint that she -knew- something about ale and boats and theives?). It doesn't last long before she hunkers down, hands on her knees, examining the dragonet with a closer eye. "Hpmh. Got some funny lighter streak here..." she points out, head tilted "Is his paw supposed to be a different size to that one?" Ok, finding imaginary faults now.

"She told me she was thinking about it," D'baji corrects with a bit of a gruff voice, not unlike the noise echoed him by his Nverath, whose head is tilted back towards him. "But really, talking of different things for now, eh? This supression of emotions will take it's tole, I swear," he adds with a faux-grin towards that dragon, whose all but not quite forgotten his adventure with his tail. "They do well enough for feeding, yes. He eats more and more too, look at him! He's near tripled in size at least since Hatching! And there's nothing wrong with the blues and greens. Green hatched from one of my preferred eggs." Impressed to a person who scares him to death, but that's not the issue. He's become quite fond of Esmeyath, despite it all. "Oh, ya, Feln had me tie some new kegs on when the other ones were stolen. Pity, that someone would sink so low." (Hint that the knows nothing of it). Nverath turns his gaze back towards the Headwoman as he's inspected, making it quite obvious he's sizing her up. "The lighter streaks are part of what makes him special," bronzerider ammends with something of satisfaction in his tone. "Maybe it's the lighting that makes you think the sizes are different?" And the bronze now is quite finished with being the only one whose being inspected, and with increidble prowess, jabs at the headwoman's leg with the tip of his tail.

Nverath pulls back as the headwoman tumbles, tail curling neatly back to behind him, and eyes fading just a bit for the reaction he's received. Interesting, for sure. Composing himself, the young bronze extends a talon towards her, making sure not to actually come into contact, however. "He says he had no intention of making you fall," D'baji explains on the bronze's behalf. "He was curious," is added, going from the slight speeding of his voice, that this isn't a direct quote for the dragon. "He would basically shake your hand to prove there's no harm done... And he'd be much obliged if you'd accept his apology." Words slow down, he's quoting again. "You can poke his foot, he'll be fine," is added almost parentally. "And the glows would ruin the look of the stars." An eyebrow is raised for the newfound information- and here he'd thought all of the Pub Host's 17, to quote the bartendress, kids were his. Psht. "Right well... I try not to let out too many family secrets, y'know. Walk you? Well, can't really just leave Nverath outside now can I? Though they're that way." Point. "And he says he's told the dragons to beware of you." The right ominous tone for that, of course, and he offers a weak little wiggle of his fingers for the Headwoman before joining Nverath, as the bronze decides now would be a good time to resume their walk.