The Hatching of Gold Mirrath and Bronze Indrath's Second Clutch
PernMUSH, February 1, 2004
The World of Pern is
copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a
registered copyright. Many thanks go to Lorany for providing this log.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Mirrath snaps to attention from where she's
been drowsing lightly on the sands, voice lifting in a quiet hum. << They
are moving! Our eggs are moving! >>
Public announcement: K'ran announces "Telgar's dragons have begun to hum!
Mirrath's and Indrath's clutch will begin to hatch in a few minutes, and
spectators are welcome! +go tgw-galleries, or +watch on tgw-sands."
Galleries(#382RDJM$)
Stretching along the eastern wall of the hatching cavern, these tiers of
seats have enough room for several hundred spectators for Clutchings and
Hatchings. To one side, long shallow steps descend to the entrance. There
is also a railing separating the lowest tier of seats from the Hatching
Sands themselves. Other parts of the galleries are closed off from the
sands by a wall to the north and south. From here you can reenter the bowl,
or follow the pathway down to the Sands.
The afternoon is partly cloudy, though the sun still shines through. There
seems to be a light breeze and the fall air is warm enough, with only a
slight chill.
Contents:
PLAYERS: Dehlan Adoric Dendra Kylier Elaia Keathan Banain Maelyan
Obvious Exits:
Bowl Sands
To see something on the sands, 'view sands' or 'view sands <object>'. Type
'clutch help' for help with clutch commands. For the up to the moment
hatching report use '+sands'.
Dendra hurries up the stairs, unfastening her jacket with one hand and
carrying a small basket with the other. She scans the crowded seats,
looking for anyone she knows.
Dragon> All dragons sense that Indrath adds his own baritone to Mirrath's
hum, harmony to her joy.
From the hatching sands, I'sai emerges from the candidate barracks.
Yenedrien enters the galleries from the bowl.
Lanisa makes her way to a seat near the front. Sliding between a few of the
others so that she can get a good view of the sands.
From the hatching sands, Yselle emerges from the candidate barracks.
Yenedrien clambers up the bleachers and finds a good place to perch to
watch the show.
From the hatching sands, Bronwynn emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Perone emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Mahon emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Dana emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Laren emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, K'ran stands out of the way, at the edge of the
sands, nearer dam and sire than the passage to the barracks. Indrath's left
off his hum the better to lift eyes spun stern orange toward the arriving
candidates.
From the hatching sands, Juliri emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, I'sai crosses onto the sands a breath ahead of the
candidates, eyes narrowed against the sands' heat; he nods to K'ran and the
dragons, in clipped, quiet recognition, and then gets down to the job.
After a last comment to his assistants, he waves them out to stand roughly
equidistant around the clutch's circumference, Javi and M'fraid taking the
side furthest from the candidates' entrance.
From the hatching sands, Mirrath leans up against Indrath for a moment,
rumbling her pleasure as she watches the eggs as they rock on the sands.
She looks toward where the Candidates are making their appearance,
impatient, as if she's waiting for someone -- and indeed, it's likely that
she is.
From the hatching sands, Londers emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Fayne emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Falan emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Isawen emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Telgar Weyr's newest Candidates file out onto the
Sands in pairs, a stream of white washing around Mirrath and Indrath in a
semi-circle. As if rolling in waves, one pair after another bows to the dam
and sire as they pass to take their stand around the clutch. The fluid
movement stops as the last of the Candidates takes his place. Occasional
fidgeting once in place - a waves to the galleries here, shuffling of hot
feet there - particularly from the younger members of the group, create
movement in this burbling brook of nervousness.
From the hatching sands, Tarien emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, Simone emerges from the candidate barracks.
From the hatching sands, The tropical paradise of the Jungle Waterfall egg
is torn asunder, cracks spreading far and wide over its lush surface,
spilling a lean-framed bronze head first into the sands, prompting a
surprised blat. Setting himself to rights, he bobs his head to dam and
sire, and moves forward, sand liberally coating his muzzle. Wings spread to
capture the heat, he takes his time finding a mate, until at last he finds
the right one in the youngest Candidate on the sands, Robin, now R'bin, of
Telgar Hold.
From the hatching sands, Yselle rubs her left hand against her jumper. It
looks a little red, but otherwise recovered from whyever it was bandaged.
She glances automatically to I'sai, then Bronwynn, Javi, M'fraid and the
rest, heading over with the other staff -- a little behind; offering K'ran
a vague distracted smile, another for the dragon parents, then stands near
I'sai, folds her arms, and concentrates on the eggs, just leaning to mutter
to him from time to time. For once she seems to take comfort in his presence.
Gay enters the galleries from the bowl.
Gay slips in quietly and quickly, taking a seat near the back.
From the hatching sands, Simone moves over near the weyrlingmaster staff
for a good vantage point.
From the hatching sands, Dana ends up sandwiched between Laren and that
unnamed Candidate after bowing, grasping both their hands tightly. "Shells,
this is weird."
From the hatching sands, Fayne shifts* nervously
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles anxiously to the other Candidates.
From the hatching sands, Juliri, having already completed her bow, takes
hold of her lower lip and begins the biting. "Oh, I /said/ I wouldn't be
nervous, but I am," she admits with a less than assured look to the
candidate to her right. "But this is /warm/." Being an Igenite, she's more
than glad to be warm again; a look is directed towards her fellow
candidates to see how they're doing, and she somehow scoots towards Mahon.
From the hatching sands, Perone shuffles her way over into the semi-circle,
holding on to Mahon's hand. "This is so exciting!"
From the hatching sands, Bronwynn nods to I'sai and, with a glance towards
her fellow assistant weyrlingmasters, finds her place on the sands. Her
gaze shifts back and forth between the eggs and the candidates, watchful
and ready.
From the hatching sands, Falan fidgets, holding onto Isawen's hand tightly
as she scans the galleries, nervous to see if her mother will be sitting
there, looking down at her disapprovingly. Catching her mother's glaring
eye, she swallows and leans a bit more against Isawen.
From the hatching sands, Isawen has barely come to halt beside Falan when
already the first impression has been made. "They said it was fast, but...
Shards!" The eggs being a little too much to handle right now, she looks
over her fellow candidates instead. Falan's motion is noticed, and Isawen
pats her on the shoulder with her free hand. "Just focus on the sands."
Then she takes her own advice.
From the hatching sands, I'sai's surprise reflects momentarily in his eyes
after returning Bronwynn's nod, anticipation become awareness that the time
is _here_ - and up in the galleries and on the ledges, the bets are flying,
but here and now it's his duty to wave to S'fin, who'd been nearest, and
encourage the man to send the new pair off toward the barracks. Yselle gets
an askance look, but also for once, he doesn't question her presence.
From the hatching sands, All at once, the Stampeding Bovines Egg starts to
crack and, with force gained by a few end over end tumbles, it smacks up
against one of its fellows. Sky blue and ash brown disintegrate together,
revealing a large, birth-wet brown hatchling, who creels mournfully at his
sudden loss of shell. After some encouragement by his dam and sire, he
lurches to his feet and waddles off toward the Candidates, bumping into a
tow-headed girl from Lemos Hold, who calls out his name, as another match
is made.
From the hatching sands, Londers turns to see his sister. "are you ok?" he
asks,trying to confort her.
From the hatching sands, Fayne smiles, "Yes, this is exciting!"
From the hatching sands, Winter Aurora Egg moves against its clutchmates, a
slow, long roll of velvety purple that, as it moves again and again, begins
to expose more and more of the blackness that had predominantly lain
against the sands. It loses its first tiny fragment to the efforts of the
hatchling within, a small pop of green that slides down from the top of the
shell and then is lost altogether within the sands.
From the hatching sands, Mahon squeezes Perone's hand and smiles to her and
then to Juliri, "Are you okay so far? It's nice to warm again, neh?"
From the hatching sands, Falan nods to Isawen and swallows again, her eyes
watching the proceedings in two large circles.
From the hatching sands, Laren clutches Dana's hand. "Does it always happen
so fast?"
From the hatching sands, K'ran leans close to Tarien, offering her a hand
to lace fingers through, even as he continues to survey the hatching. "It's
like they know," he mutters. "And then all go at once. Hard to get used to
how fast it comes together."
From the hatching sands, Londers squeezes Fayne's hand. "Shards! I'm so
scared." he mutters in his breath.
From the hatching sands, Snow-Covered Branches Egg gives a palpitation.
Palpitations seem a good place to start. The Snow-Covered Branches Egg
palpitates slightly, just a little quiver. It's small enough that if you
weren't looking you would miss it. This egg isn't fighting for attention,
at least not yet. Just shivering and palpitating as if it were submerged in
ice water.
From the hatching sands, Fayne squeezes her brothers hand back, quickly
glancing at the other candidates.
From the hatching sands, Juliri nods, though has to swallow through a lump
in her throat in order to answer Mahon with, "It is. Warmth, even if it
includes nervousness, is very welcome." Juls, then seeming to remember some
tidbits of advice, turns her eyes to the cracking eggs. Unlike some of the
other candidates, Juliri doesn't seem to mind the burning and focuses on
the eggs, brows furrowed. "Isawen! How're you doing?"
From the hatching sands, Winter Aurora Egg cracks further with its
hatchling's impatience, losing more and more shards from the hammering it
receives from within - purple, black, green, dull gold - and rocks harder
into the egg nearest it, sending a long crack up its side as well. Other
dragonets have hatched and chosen. By the way it's moving, faster and
stronger than the Snow-Covered Branches Egg by far, it -won't- be left behind.
From the hatching sands, After a flurry of beats from within, the Magenta
Sunset egg splits into two rather neat halves, leaving a tiny green to
clamber out of its remains. She gives her shell a speculative look, then
trills cheerily spotting the Candidates, and moves forward, decisiveness in
every movement of her lean frame. Chirring and crooning all the way, she
plants herself in front of that Candidate who was brought in as the dragons
started humming, the anonymous one, and though *he's* still nameless, his
lifemate is not: "Purtinath!"
From the hatching sands, Falan watches as her favorite egg hatches and a
match is made, she does her best to continue to watch the proceedings, her
eyes sweeping covetously over its shards.
From the hatching sands, The stocky, sturdy brown comes charging
willy-nilly out of his Winter Aurora Egg prison, sending shards flying
everywhere. He skids to a stop a couple of metres away, sand spraying, and
looks around, wedge-shaped head cocked first left, and then right. After a
full-body shake, he's on his toes, assessing the landscape most curiously.
Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling
The fuzzy warmth of a sleeping fur comes to mind when looking at this
stocky young brown. Alhough he is a bit on the small side, his wingspan is
impressive. From further away, he seems like might have a delightful fur
coat covering his hide, but on closer inspection, it's just a cunning
pattern of colours. Deep, dark klah brown is the predomniant shade of his
hide, with mottled cromcoal shading on his wingsails and down his tail from
mid-back. A light cream brown dances down his neckridges and forelimbs in
gentle swirls, flecked with a deeper red-brown. A comical shading of light
brown above his upper jaw almost looks like an exaggerated moustache, and
he has the same light brown on his eyeridges, looking like bushy eyebrows.
From the hatching sands, Yselle takes a half-step forward at that
impression, but a glance at I'sai, and she's stepping back again. She rubs
her hand once again on her jumper, eyes trained on those eggs. As the next
impressions occur, she glances at the weyrlingmaster for guidance, waiting;
only the shift-shift of her feet on the sands indicating her reaction to
the scene being played out in front of her.
From the hatching sands, Snow-Covered Branches Egg gives a bigger shudder,
almost, but not quite tipping over. Those palpitations that started off so
small and tiny, barely there at all, have increased to tremors and quakes.
If the egg were a tectonic plate it would be crashing into all the other
continents by this point, shaking and quaking in an irregular rhythm.
From the hatching sands, Dana just about falls over as that candidate who
just got Searched Impresses. "Laren! Did you *see* that? They just found
him today!"
From the hatching sands, Tarien tucks her hand into K'ran's, watching as
Mirrath rumbles with pride over those eggs that have already hatched, and
those eggs which are growing ever closer to doing so. "I hate that it goes
so fast," she comments, with a quiet smile.
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles towards Dana. "well, he's rather
lucky I dare say" he mutters again, focusing on the Eggs and the Sands.
From the hatching sands, K'ran hitches one shoulder up in a shrug, and with
a smile that borders on mischief, murmurs a few quieter words to Mirrath's
rider while still keeping an eye on the sands.
From the hatching sands, A twirl of a shudder, a dip in one direction, as
if the Snow-Covered Branches Egg were dancing with an unseen tango partner.
A swoop back up and a great, immense quake; cracks appear spearing upwards
from the base of the egg distorting the 'branches' of the 'tree'. Shards of
the egg shatter outwards like over-sized, ungainly snow-flakes,
illuminating the small soaked bundle hidden until now.
Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling
His is a build of long bones and gangly slenderness; a deceiving length of
bone and sinew lends him a length and breadth that he will not retain into
adulthood. While his head peers down at the world from the height his
neck's length lends, cocked at an angle that almost suggests hauteur, his
large-sailed wings drape down his sides like dark and weighty robes with
his whipcord tail left to serve as their train. As for coloring, there he
is blessed. His color base is of a deep, rich royal blue with the sheen of
high-quality velvet. It may seem black in his wings' shadowed folds, in the
crease of joint and muscle, but let light strike him and he will fairly
shimmer with soft luxury. There are spots on his hide that gleam with the
mysterious depth of jewels; one just off his right headknob, another along
the breadth of his wing and a final small mark on his haunch. Despite those
overlong limbs, he already moves with a hint of the grace that will later
be his in full.
From the hatching sands, Falan leans forward to see if the other Candidates
she knows best have Impressed yet.
From the hatching sands, Laren's eyes are big, green saucers. "Wow. They're
all so beautiful, aren't they?"
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling stumbles out of
his shell, fur-like wings still crumpled against his side, and tries to
blink the bits of egg out of his eyes as they open for the first time. He
coughs, a hoarse sound close to a yawn, and looks... but there are eggs.
And more eggs. He takes a few hurried, hunching steps out away from his
shell, trying to get a better look on things, for the moment heedless of
the more velvety blue who's also started his hunt.
From the hatching sands, Flash of Lightning Egg shivers along its axis, the
streaks of silver-blue lightning along its surface as faultlines. The
struggles from within prompt it to roll away from its fellows, perhaps a
bit closer to the candidates than they might be strictly comfortable with.
From the hatching sands, Juliri wrinkles her nose at the newest of the
dragonets; pointing towards them, she whispers, "They're odd looking now.
Look at that gunk hanging on them," to Mahon. However, after saying that,
she again falls silent, continuing to bite her lip and glance around - all
the better to keep her hide safe.
From the hatching sands, Tarien's lips curve in a warm smile, and she
squeezes K'ran's fingers lightly. "We'll have to take advantage of that,
won't we?" she asks, amused. "Oh, look at that blue -- what lovely colors."
From the hatching sands, Isawen's head goes back and forth rapidly as she
tries to watch everywhere at once. Dana's words spin her attention back to
the mentioned boy, and she can't help grinning a little bit. "Amazing, that
is..." she says to nobody in particular. Then her eyes sweep back across
the sands. "And there's another brown there, -and- a blue now. They're
coming too fast." She steps back involuntarily from the rolling egg.
From the hatching sands, Londers looks in awe towards the Hatchlings.
"They're so beautiful aren't they?"
From the hatching sands, Falan's eyes widen considerably and she moves a
pace or two back, still holding onto Isawen's hand - perhaps a bit /too/
tightly as the egg rolls closer to the semi-circle.
Dendra finds a seat in the middle of the crowd, wiggling her way through
the throng once her aching feet let her know that sitting down is a good
idea. She opens her basket once seated and pulls out a slender bottle of
wine. It's Benden Red, which explains why she starts to drink it immediately.
From the hatching sands, Perone just beams as she watches all the activity.
"Look at them all! They're so beautiful."
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling sits still for
a couple of beats, shaking off the goop from his former eggy haven. Slowly
signs of further life radiate outwards, the eyes whirl faster, the wings
beat once and twice--testing--finally with a mighty creel of hunger and
need the hatchling sets off towards the waiting group in white. Maybe over
there he'll find what he's looking for. With, careful, studious attention
he works to stay out of the way of his brown sibling, he has more important
things to worry about just now.
Yenedrien watches in rapt silence
From the hatching sands, I'sai eyes that newly-Impressed green that's found
her lifemate near them, muttering something about her being far too
-happy-, and raises his voice just enough to get Yselle's attention: "Over
there. Yours. Take her, help her rider, just the way we'd talked about." -
"And you'll be fine. Just don't get run over by an egg."
From the hatching sands, Mahon shifts slightly on the sands, a mere
adjustment of weight. He is very aware of the movements of the dragons, due
to his healthy appreciation of their claws. He grins to Juliri and nods,
"They look tiny by comparison to the adults."
From the hatching sands, Londers nods slightly. "so tiny but so beautiful
he says" looking at all the Eggs rolling over and over. "wow, rather active
too aren't they?"
From the hatching sands, Juliri glances over Mahon again, arching an
eyebrow before glancing back at the turmoil that meets her - "They are.
I've heard they grow like mad when they start eating," she says, loud
enough for him to hear her. Then again, all she could have possibly heard
are second-hand tales about the growth of the dragons.
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling navigates the
sands with growing enthusiasm amidst the awkwardness, and if he doesn't
think things through and finds his route blocked by yet more eggs, well, he
turns around and keeps on going. A trial wing-shake sends a few bits of
shards and sand heading towards the candidates, but at least it serves to
free the mottled, sticky mass from his back, and a further stretch-flap
helps them begin to dry. His route takes him closer and closer to the
candidates, and he moves to follow their line as if they were some sort of
fence, starting to head towards a break in it. Them.
From the hatching sands, Isawen is far to distracted by the hunting
dragonets to notice the grip. At least until her hand starts to go numb.
"Ouch, Falan! Not so tightly, please. I can't feel my fingers." She never
actually takes her eyes from the space in front of her.
From the hatching sands, Falan swallows and nods, removing her hand from
Isawen's. "Sorry." She looks as if she's about to hyperventilate. Being
near one dragon is one thing...but a herd of dragonets, well...
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling comes to an
abrupt stop near the first pair of things in white. Whirling eyes search,
as a stream of hungry, hopeful creels issue out from his muzzle. But no,
this isn't what he wants, it has to be around here somewhere, just not
here. The hatchling continues bravely on, head held high, swiveling over
the assembled group looking for just the right one
From the hatching sands, Yselle nods, it's easy enough to get her
attention, she's settled for bouncing on the balls of her feet as though
waiting for something to /do/. "Yes sir," maybe I'sai doesn't even hear it,
since already she's weaving through the commotion, dodging eggs and
dragonets. In a moment she's beside the nameless boy and his green. "This
way," she tells him. "She'll be hungry," she spares a smile for the new
weyrling and a murmured "You did really well. Let's go take care of her."
She ushers the pair off the sands, into the barracks, only re-emerging some
time later.
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles slightly as Isawen and Falan try to
make this event a casual thing. "Look at this one" he says, nodding towards
the blue. "He seems to know what he want."
From the hatching sands, Falan seems to calm slightly as Londers speaks to
her. She nods, shifting from foot to foot on the hot sands. As is her habit
when nervous, she begins to hum softly under her breath - not even
realizing what she's doing. After a few moments she catches herself doing
it and bites her bottom lip and quiets.
From the hatching sands, Flash of Lightning Egg shivers again, this time
more violently -- and darker splits have begun to appear over its length,
as black lightning to contrast with the bright. Clearly this one's occupant
is eager to meet the world, though another fierce shake from within
threatens an explosion of eggshards.
From the hatching sands, Isawen gives Falan what she hopes is a reassuring
smile. It only wavers a little bit. As long as Isawen can think about
somebody -else's- nervousness, she can ignore her own. "It's alright. Just
don't get in their way and you'll be fine." She gulps hastily as her gaze
returns to the little blue, managing a tiny grin at Londers' comment. "I
think you're right."
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling keeps going while
the more regal blue stops: going, and going, and going, and now he's begun
to look at a candidate or two more closely, his pace becoming slow-and-go
traffic as eggs rock and rock all around him. Never does he stop
altogether, though, not with seeming freedom before him, if that's what
he's truly looking for after all. Yet again he slows right through
exclamations and smiles, before a tall blond - make that, a tall blond
_boy_ - and a mop-haired girl with that dark mane for once contained.
From the hatching sands, Dana's eyes go rather huge there for a moment.
"Laren," she hisses. "Is he looking at us?"
From the hatching sands, Juliri, somehow managing to hear Londer's comment
over the din, aims an agreeing nod in his direction. "That's good, at
least. He'll be sated, at least," she manages to say, her words somewhat
stilted as she watches the brown and blue advance. A somewhat wide-eyed
glance is cast around the sands, and she plucks at the hem of her robe.
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles as he sees the little brown
watching someone he can't actually see. He looks back at the Eggs, looking
for his prefered Egg.
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling croons a bit
louder with frustration, one small foot tapping with impatience
From the hatching sands, I'sai sends an overtly approving, silently
assessing look Yselle's way, as she gets down to business, and casts across
the sands to see how their other novice is doing; M'fraid, who has her in
hand, gives the weyrlingmaster a thumbs-up when Javi doesn't seem to be
looking, and the two laugh before getting back to the dragonets hatching on
the sands.
From the hatching sands, Laren stares, he can't help it. He hisses back, "I
don't know." But his eyes are all for that brown, particularly if he's
looking right at them.
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling is just so
very hungry and there's that other thing, that other need. Those things
around him, the white-covered blobs, he needs one of those as well as some
food. The only question is which white blob to pick?
From the hatching sands, Perone cranes her neck, searching for a moment,
that ever-present smile still on her face. She's bouncing up and down now,
she's so excited. "Where'd they go, Mahon? Do you see them?"
From the hatching sands, Sandy Footprints Egg shudders in place, the
perfect ovoid of its shape making it slip, spin and careen down the small
lump of sand it sits upon. Then it's still: perfectly still. Shortly: a
tap, experimental. Another, a dragging of claw along the slippery inside of
that shell's hard surface. It's almost as though the occupant inside is
looking for some elusive combination that will spare it the effort its
clutchsiblings are making. And why not? There must be a -smart- way to go
about this. Some trick or another.
From the hatching sands, Mahon looks around, "There are a lot of
candidates, I think they are father down." he says to Perone, and then
smiles. His feet shift again, the heat of the sands finally starting to
sink in.
From the hatching sands, Londers looks amazed by all the Eggs rolling.
"This happens so quick, this is so sudden" he says, looking panicked. He
looks back to spot Yselle, takes a deep breath and try not to look so scared.
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling -is- looking right
at them, as it turns out, brilliant eyes steadying their whirl as he looks
back and forth between Dana and Laren, back and forth, with not even a
second glance for that gap through which he could've tried to make a break,
that gap that had never been his destination at all. But it's Laren who
claims his fullest attention, with the lad's exuberance for all his
muscular height, and it's Laren whom he croons to - and then lurches toward
and nearly _over_ - at last.
From the hatching sands, L'ren's jaw drops. "Dana..." He trails off, then
looks at the brown before him, reaching out to touch that spot.
"Dagraith..? He says his name's Dagraith!"
From the hatching sands, With a resounding crack, a black limned talon
pokes through the Flash Of Lightning Egg. All is quiet for a moment -- the
calm before the storm -- then, after a flurry of blows, a Storm Touched
Bronze Hatchling makes his presence known.
Storm Touched Bronze Hatchling
The same stormclouds that shaded his shell roil along this dragon's body:
angry skies, near-black, but alive with the vivid bronze that arcs in long
lines from his muzzle all the way to his tailtip, and splintering out into
brilliant forks across delicate 'sails in a pattern that could have been
lifted from his grandsire's wings. That glow's lent lambence by gold
borrowed from his dam, and gleaming white all his own. It's only along his
flanks and his belly that the storm relents, and the shimmering bronze of a
sunset struggles through the darkness. Lean-framed, this one, and lacking
the broad chest and shoulders that mark so many of his color - but there's
doubtless a strength to the storm, confirmed by his sober gait and the
resolute lines of his jaw.
From the hatching sands, Isawen can't resist a smile at the blue's actions.
Then another motion draws her attention, and she stares at yet another egg.
"Oh, it's that footprints one. I wonder what will hatch out of it?" This
line of thought is cut out as she notices the brown by Laren, or rather,
L'ren. "Oh, look! Congratulations!"
From the hatching sands, Juliri, on one of her quick look-arounds to check
the positions of the dragonets, spies Laren's Impression to the brown.
"Laren! Well.." A dubious look is passed to Mahon and Perone, and the
Igenite whispers, "What's his name now? -- Congratulations!" she finally
says, looking pleased at the brown's choice. The hatching of the bronze is
missed, however, as she's busy congratulating the newest weyrling.
From the hatching sands, Londers 's eyes are wide open. "Ohh, a bronze" he
says, nodding towards the Hatching.
From the hatching sands, Sunset's Fire Egg trembles ever so slightly,
dislodging the sand about it in a fine spill. It stills, but only for a
moment or two before it begins to shake violently. Something wants out. -Now-.
From the hatching sands, Bronwynn steps forward as that brown finds his
lifemate in L'ren. She leans forward to catch the new rider's attention,
"Let's go get him something to eat," she says with a smile, ushering the
new pair off the sand.
From the hatching sands, Bronwynn heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, L'ren heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Mahon looks again and grins, "Perone, was that
Laren who just Impressed? I can't tell.." he grins to Juliri, "Uhh, L'ren
perhaps?" he says hesitantly, his feet shifting a little more.
From the hatching sands, Falan smiles down at the new weyrling and then
returns her eyes to the clutch still hatching before the line of Candidates
on the Sands.
From the hatching sands, Dana lets out a low whistle as she watches
Laren--now L'ren--walk away. "Shells and shards. Now I'm by myself," she
mutters.
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling noses against his
L'ren's hand, over and over again, and it's as if the two could stay there
for full candlemarks attending only to each other - until they're
interrupted, and sent off into the next phase of their lives.
From the hatching sands, Fuzzy Patterned Brown Hatchling heads off towards
the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, End over end, the Sandy Bands egg rolls,
fracturing along the way, until the bottom falls out, and a sapphire blue
dragon is left sitting where his egg used to be, bemused. He's decisive,
however, for he moves straight for Nesil, now N'sil, who sinks to his
knees, too overwhelmed to call out the name of his new partner.
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling catches
something out of the corner of his eye, a flash. A hopeful croon interrupts
his creels of hunger, is that--could it be? Yes! There, right there, relief
and belonging so close to hand. In the manner of an exhausted swimmer,
saved from drowning, the blue makes his way towards one figure in
particular, she's standing in a twosome, but it's only one that he wants.
Reaching the pair he drops down into the sand before the girl, giving a
final creel of hunger, knowing that this time it will answered. And then
the hatchling looks into those blue, almond-shaped eyes, Perone's eyes. You!
From the hatching sands, Yselle is just now re-emerging from where the
weyrlings are being led. Her hand is once again being scrubbed irritably
against her jumper, but by her distracted look, she's probably not even
thinking about it. Her gaze meets Londers's for a moment. She nods
reassuringly at him, offering him a thumbs-up as she now skirts the sands,
away from the action, back to where the weyrlingmaster team hover. Her eyes
seek out I'sai's now, once again, she's waiting.
From the hatching sands, Perone's hand drops nerveless from Mahon's, and
she's speechless for a long moment, realizing what that voice in her head
was. "His name is Caedoth!" She seems distant, as if already having a
conversation with her new lifemate.
Yenedrien grins in delight as he watches the Impressions take place
From the hatching sands, Storm Touched Bronze Hatchling stands in place for
a few moments, the better to mark and measure his surroundings. Though his
eyes have shaded crimson with hunger, he'll ignore the rumblings of his
belly to stretch, first -- and if his long, lean frame nudges up against
other eggs, well, that's ignored, too, as he surveys the sands, the
candidates, the tableau.
From the hatching sands, Juliri immediately cranes her head around Mahon in
order to stare with huge eyes at Perone, and as that blue drops into the
sands in front of her friend; a moment passes, and then Juls looks
positively /delighted/ for her friend. "Perone! And Caedoth! You two...
You'll be.." For once, Juls seems to be at a loss for words, and gives her
congratulations. "Ah, L'ren."
From the hatching sands, I'sai nods matter-of-factly to Yselle - and then
promptly abandons her, seeing Perone and her regal blue off and away.
From the hatching sands, Sunset's Fire Egg is now shaking fiercely, dark
streaks of shadowed black seeming to move over the egg's surface. Again, a
moment of quiet, then a movement so intense the ovoid spins away from its
place, spraying sand all around. It pulses angrily, spidery cracks creeping
up it's sides, along the top. Freedom is not far away.
From the hatching sands, Sandy Footprints Egg taptaptaptaps. Forget smart,
forget tricks: those efforts from within are more urgent now, determined
and focused. The pale surface of the egg seems almost to slide around upon
itself, blending with the sand below to almost disappear... but that's just
illusion, just the paleness of that shell playing tricks. It spins once,
bouncing hard off another before coming to a dizzying stop, bits of shell
finally breaking from the whole.
From the hatching sands, The Crag-Touched Sky egg careens wildly down a
sandy slope, smacking hard into the Fire In The Sky egg in a violent shower
of shell and goop. Two small green dragons are left in the midst of it all,
momentarily dazed. One picks herself up quickly, giving herself a shake
that runs along her body tip to tail, egg-goop splattering from her wings
to her sister's snout. To add injury to insult, she tromps off toward the
candidates, eliciting a sharp cry as she steps on tail, as well. The
smaller, meeker green is left to nursing that hurt appendage -- what a bad
start this has been! -- and is distracted as that first green finds her
lifemate in a girl from Cove. Well. That looked not bad. Getting valiantly
to her feet she daintily makes her way across the sands to those
white-robed candidates. And though it takes a bit of confusion, a few turns
around, a questioning creel to her dam... she finally finds -him-, her own,
her one: blustery, boistrous, her protector for all time, a big lad from
the Healercraft.
From the hatching sands, Perone leads her Caedoth after I'sai, toward the
barracks, still dazed and distant.
From the hatching sands, Perone heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, I'sai heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Regal Royal Reserved Blue Hatchling heads off
towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Falan blinks at the twin dragons emerging from one
egg. "I didn't know that could happen..." she murmurs quietly.
From the hatching sands, Isawen is torn from watching the rapidly hatching
eggs as she hears Perone's call. "Oh, Perone! That's wonderful!" Grinning
at the departing weyrling, she pulls at her robe. "Shards, it seems to just
get hotter and hotter..."
From the hatching sands, Dana squints a bit more closely at the eggs that
just hatched. "That was two eggs, I thought," she says to Falan.
From the hatching sands, Londers looks insistently towards his prefered
egg. "Ohhh, he's here" he says, not daring to move
From the hatching sands, Falan stands on her tiptoes and notices the shards
from two distinct shells. "Oh, you're right."
From the hatching sands, Mahon blinks as the blue hatchling picks the
lovely Perone, who had been with him throughout candidacy.
"Congradulations!" he says happily and nods to Juliri, "This is great,
Juliri. Oh looks two greens hatched from that egg."
Gay walks out into the bowl.
From the hatching sands, The Sandy Footprints Egg gives a last shudder, a
long sustained vibration that shakes the last hatching sand loose. But more
than that, the shell itself is cracking, cascading down in shards and shell
dust, revealing the damp mass within.
Midnight's Moonshadowed Blue Hatchling
An arctic midnight encompasses the thin, fine lines of the small and
sharp-boned dragonet. From the spiky heights of even darker neckridges, the
night expands through the crown of his head and the point of his tail,
running along his smoothly balanced body; only eventually does it soften
into the first glimmers of starlight, dappling his sides and flanks with
deep, silvery blue. That blue warms further along his belly, adding
illusive softness to its taut line, and is echoed in the traces of pale
evening cloud that trail up his long, narrow head and into his headknobs
like cool, rising smoke. Though the rest of him is small, his wings are
not, though they're equally sharp: wide sails, stark and near-white, are
mapped with a terrain of grayed blue and navy - and further edged with
midnight wingbones, like pieces of a moon framed in the darkest, most
distant lapis.
From the hatching sands, Storm Touched Bronze Hatchling remains in place,
close as he is to the semicircle of candidates -- but now he's stealing a
look back toward dam and sire, and the other eggs and goings-on behind him.
At length, though, he apparently satisfies himself with his surroundings,
and gracelessly at first, lifts himself from the ruin of his shell and
takes an experimental step forward.
From the hatching sands, After spending several moments doing nothing more
than wiggling in place, the Falling Stream egg finally begins to break
under the pressure from within. A dark, klah brown spills out gracelessly,
wings and tail all akimbo. Once he's sorted himself out, he moves around
*behind* the Candidates, causing consternation from many, before he finally
makes his pick: Lana, from Half Circle Sea Hold, who calls out, "Astoreth!
He says he's starving!"
From the hatching sands, Juliri nods in happy agreement, now extending her
hands towards Mahon, eyes following Perone off of the sands. "I'm so glad
for her. She was the first friend that I gained upon arriving here," she
says to Mahon, still swallowing around that conspicious lump in her
thought. Pulling still more at her robe, she eyes the bronze uneasily, and
watches his progress, and the blue's, carefully. Not to mention cautiously.
From the hatching sands, Londers nods towards Juliri. "I'm so happy for
her" he says sighing. "This blue made a great choice" he adds
From the hatching sands, Midnight's Moonshadowed Blue Hatchling rolls from
that damp morass with almost slow deliberation, still for a moment to
examine his surroundings at an awkward angle before getting unsteadily to
his feet. His stance is checked: steady. The remains of egg and goop he
came from is checked: disgusting. A snort is given that direction, a
sideways kick of those shards, and a shake takes his compact, lean frame
from darkened muzzle-tip to starlit wings and lithesome tail, ridding him
of any excess. It's then that his focused gaze comes upon those white-robed
figures beyond, and all else is forgotten in favour of -them-. A cant of
his head, a light chirrup of curious investigation, and off he goes, making
his hatchling-awkward way toward the nearest group.
From the hatching sands, With the weyrlingmaster gone, S'fyn takes charge.
Nodding to Yselle, he approaches the newly impressed greens and their
lifemates. His first glance is for that meeker green, a quick examination
of the tail and whispered conversation with her human partner seems to
satisfy him, and then it's on to the more boisterous one. He steps between
them, the greens flanking him as he guides them to the barracks.
From the hatching sands, Mahon blinks again and shakes his head, "Oh, no
wait, there were two eggs." The lad's feet shift again, but he refrains
from shuffling on the sands. His gaze zeroes in on the bronze, and then the
blue while mindful of the other hatchlings and the rocking eggs. "Have you
seen anyone get hurt, Juliri?" he asks.
From the hatching sands, Fayne shuffles back and forth in the sands,
fanning her face, trying to stay cool amidst the hot sands.
From the hatching sands, Misty Ancients Egg trembles, currents of mist
eddying around massive green-wreathed trunks--or perhaps it's merely the
heat-shimmer of the Sands. White of snow and fog remains unaffected by the
warmth and excitement around it, save for that slight tremor of /newness/
amid ancient patience.
From the hatching sands, Storm Touched Bronze Hatchling gathers confidence
with each step, and dares a hesitant spread of his wings to shed more
remnants of his shell. Now he's approaching the candidates close, very
close, and each one of them, in turn, earns his quiet attention as he pads
along their arc.
From the hatching sands, Tap tap. Tappity tap tap tap. The Magma River egg
shudders along the sand, each movement punctuated by a hard tap from
within. Finally four sharp clawtips break that shell's surface and
withdraw, only to be replaced by a draconic eye peering out. Interesting.
This place definitely warrants further investigation. The egg wobbles as
its curious occupant struggles, and finally crumbles outward from that
quartet of holes to leave a small drab green hatchling on the sands. She
gives herself a little shake, standing tall, tall, almost on toetip to
survey those white-robed figures, gaze halting on a diminutive towheaded
lad from Keroon. The boy lets out a tearful yell as she careens into him,
dropping to his knees to wrap his arms tightly about her neck.
From the hatching sands, Londers takes Fayne's hand and squeezes it
tightly. "Is that ok sister?" he asks, gently inquiring.
From the hatching sands, Isawen shifts around, wiping sweat off her brow.
The bronze's movements are watched at first, then the newest blue's, and
then it's back to the eggs. And yet another impression, the small green.
"Too much," she decides, choosing instead to only watch what's going on
close by.
From the hatching sands, Falan steps back once again as the bronze moves by
her. Well, everyone /knows/ bronzes don't want female lifemates...But
still, he /is/ quite close.
From the hatching sands, I'sai re-emerges, stepping out of the green pairs'
- and S'fin's - way as he does so; he brushes sand from his hands and then
heads right back on duty, scanning the sands to see what's changed. A
hatchling here, another there, the line of candidates increasingly winnowed
by now -
From the hatching sands, Juliri then bites her lip at Mahon's question,
obviously loathe to answer it; however, common sense seems to win, and she
nods. "I have. I haven't seen anyone hurt while I've been on the sands, but
it happens," she states matter-of-factly before returning her attention to
the dragonets. Eyes flickering between each egg, and dragonet, she now
starts to fidget.
From the hatching sands, Fayne smiles reassuringly at Londers. "I'm ok. Are
you?"
From the hatching sands, Cracks cover the surface of the Autumn's Glory
egg, following the pattern made by the colored leaves upon its surface.
From within, a large but dainty green is revealed, her beauty truly a thing
to behold, until she lets out a loud, tuneless blat by way of greeting. Of
course, to her, it's music to her ears, so she continues to make the
occasional noise as she tromps down the line of Candidates. Ironically
enough, it's a young Harper apprentice whom she takes to lifemate, but it's
only joy in the young woman's face as she wraps her arms around the green's
neck.
From the hatching sands, Midnight's Moonshadowed Blue Hatchling may be
small, but there's nothing diminutive about his presence or that
disconcertingly direct gaze of his, as so many candidates are just now
discovering. He studies a lad from Nerat, giving the boy a scare when he
pays particularly close attention to a stain on his robe and makes as
though to chew it off. A bright laugh from a girl down the line distracts
him and he makes his way gingerly toward that group, pushing between a few
short lads to study the ones in back. Or, the backs of the ones in front.
At any rate, he's taking a rather unique route to finding his lifemate, his
path erratic and easily distracted.
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles to Fayne. "A bit to nervous but I'm
managing so far" he says, nodding to the eggs. "did you see your prefered
one?" he asks softly.
From the hatching sands, Storm Touched Bronze Hatchling looks straight past
Juliri, perhaps a little bashful -- but it's that very swing of his head
which settles his attention on a lanky young man nearby, and he'll stop
there to make his choice.
From the hatching sands, Londers looks at the bronze and then at Fayne. "is
he looking at me?" he says, wide eyed.
From the hatching sands, From the Sunset's Fire egg, there is a shake, and
then a loud, angry cracking as the captive hatchling inside tries to free
itself from its imprisonment. After a rather dramatic pause, a talon
emerges and the shell breaks into near nothingness, leaving a Dusty
Activist Gold Hatchling amidst the shattered remains.
Dusky Activist Gold Hatchling
Mellow and muted, she is the deep, dusky gold of sands lit only by Rukbat's
failing rays. The subdued colours that sweep across her hide are no less
constant than her rather more composed demeanour, soft sandy tones blending
into a splendid ochre hue from head to tail. The uniformity is broken on
haunches and back, shadowy nighttime shades accenting a pattern reminiscent
of timeless wind-swept dunes. Though her hide is somewhat sedate, her
wingsails provide a sharp, showy contrast; upper and lower dramatically
divided between shadow and light in an undulating line. Visible only with a
flick of tail, a dark spidery geometric pattern creeps up and along her
belly. She is wiry, long-boned and egg-thin, only length of limb and size
of claw hinting at her growth to come.
From the hatching sands, K'ran favors each new pair with a warm smile as
they depart the sands, though when the Sunset's Fire egg reveals its
occupant, he aims a bemused look up toward dam and sire alike, while asking
Tarien, "Did she mention that to you?"
From the hatching sands, Tarien can't help but sigh, spotting the newest
egg to hatch, and shakes her head at K'ran's question. "I had a suspicion,"
she says, "but I didn't know for certain. It seems they're both taking
after their dams, keeping things like that a secret."
From the hatching sands, SMACK. The Flowered Tundra egg shatters with the
frenzied pounding of the dragon within, feet and head and wings and tail
all a mess. Can that possibly be just one brown? He's as pale a tone as to
almost blend in with the sands of the hatching grounds, wings striated with
darker wood shades that almost seem shadow-like. Gradually he unknots
himself, tail uncurling, wings and limbs pulled from that jumbled knot he
somehow got himself into. It's no wonder he's had such a hard time: he's
shaped with all the sinewy slenderness of a fisher's net, long and gangly
and entirely uncoordinated. With an anxious creel he blunders into a group
of candidates, all of them going down in a comical heap. From the bottom
there's a muffled yell -- well, there's a few of those, but this one's a
name -- and when the assistant weyrlingmasters help them all to their feet,
it's a boy from the weavercraft that is led off the sands with him.
From the hatching sands, Misty Ancients Egg makes no grand gestures, no
overdramatic tumbles or shatterings. Mists swirl with increasing speed, and
columns of warm brown start to shudder in anticipation. The time of the
ancients is ending. In the space between two breaths of foggy air, all
comes tumbling down, revealing a hatchling's form dusted with ghosts of
grey-white shell.
From the hatching sands, M'hon was about to ask Juliri about injuries when
he comes faces to face with the bronze hatchling and freezes. He rubs his
eyes, "Insreth? Your name is Insreth?!" he nods, wiping a tear from his
eyes, "Yes, we shall get you some sustinence."
From the hatching sands, Falan brings a hand up over her mouth as she
giggles at the antics of the brown finding his lifemate. She does her best
to keep quiet, but has only moderate success.
From the hatching sands, Juliri, seeming to forget for a moment that she's
supposed to get out of the bronze's way, appears to be struck by something,
rooting her to the spot. "Mahon?" The name is spoken quietly, before it
builds up in crescendo, turning into a delightful squeal. "Mahon!" She has
to visibly restrain from throwing her arms about her fellow Igenite - now
weyrling - in a hug.
From the hatching sands, Dana gawps. Her "Oh, *no*" as Mahon Impresses
bronze carries far and wide, but she doesn't seem to be *too* serious about
it.
From the hatching sands, Isawen's strategy of only watching one thing at a
time is spoiled when she hears M'hon's pronouncement. "Oh, a bronze!
Congratulations!" Her eyes widen at the collision of candidates and the
brown, and she scoots back a little even though they aren't next to her.
From the hatching sands, Night meets day as the Sun-Kissed Sand egg
collides with the Velvet Night egg--in spite of the differences in their
shells, the pair of blues that emerge are identical in nearly every aspect,
though they each streak off in different directions. One takes Telgar's own
Amarie to lifemate, while the other whuffs at Dana briefly before staking
claim on Dhariva, likewise from Telgar.
From the hatching sands, I'sai can't help but grin at the loud green's
choice, but his would-be glance toward candidates chosen and looked past is
disrupted by the young brown's taking all those candidates down; once he
sees Yselle and others heading their way, though, he turns back to the
newest, a frown still on his face. "C'mon, M'hon. 'Insreth'? Like Indrath -
this way, this way," and he nods the pair toward the barracks, with only
the briefest glance to still those left behind.
Yenedrien nods quietly
From the hatching sands, Yselle is one of the weyrlingmasters who've rushed
over to assist the brown, and some of the candidates who've been buried in
the heap. "Are you okay in there?" she says, checking carefully those
candidates left behind, even straightening a rumpled robe here and there.
She only catches the tail end of Mahon's impression, and that,
distractedly. With a wry quirk of her mouth she mutters "Figures. "
From the hatching sands, Insreth bumps up against M'hon's side as the pair
of them are ushered toward the barracks -- he's not taking well to being
rushed, but apparently appreciates that the chaos of the hatching makes it
necessary.
From the hatching sands, Dusky Activist Gold Hatchling takes a moment to
savour the air, the heat, the sheer chaos about her as she takes her first
steps from the shards with determination - she's ready to be free of her
prison and see the world. Her dam and sire warrant a glance before she
moves further and with increasing speed. She's no time to waste.
From the hatching sands, At last, the Misty Ancients Egg begins to break
apart, freeing the dragonet within. Flashes of blue are visible at first,
until finally, the egg melts away. There, carefully readying himself to
meet his lifemate, is the Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling.
Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling
Pressed to perfection, rich navy blue clothes this hatchling in the utmost
propriety. Shadows in the depths of dragging wings and stumbling legs
darken midnight hide with lashes of sooty smears, but light streaks over
shoulders and chest, highlighting them in luminous sapphire with epaulets
of lapis. Flecks of white foam offset the blue of his headknobs, and an
edge of stormy silver rimes his tail, giving him an ocean-tossed air.
Rock-grey talons grip the unsteady sands as he paces rollingly along.
Darkling wings, for all their overlargeness, are drawn up into some
semblance of order, and his head cants just so. Impressions /and/
impressions, after all.
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles towards Mahon. "This one is going
to enjoy his lifemate" he says approvingly.
From the hatching sands, Midnight's Moonshadowed Blue Hatchling was just
out of range of that pale brown's massive pileup, and with a surprisingly
loud trumpet he scrambles out of the way, turning to scold the offending
pile of candidates before continuing his route. He's oblivious to that
bronze, oblivious to all the eyes turned toward his bright clutchsister
too... until, that is, he finds himself not garnering -quite- the same
amount of attention. Well. No matter. His will know him. His... his
something. Right, that's important. There's something nearby, something,
someone... and he sniffs at a bunch of candidates, pausing, waving this way
and that, standing high, going low. Something here. Nevermind his sister,
there's something -here-.
From the hatching sands, M'hon is still a little dazed but nods to I'sai
and helps his lifemate to towards the barracks.
From the hatching sands, I'sai heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, M'hon heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Fayne watches as the pairs are made, dropping her
gaze before it meets the gold, looking to the others, instead. "I hope so."
From the hatching sands, Falan's giggling continues at Yselle's reaction to
Mahon, er, M'hon's Impression, then her eyes go wide as the gold heads
toward the candidates with alarming speed and she gasps.
From the hatching sands, Insreth heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Juliri now directs her attention to the newest
hatchlings, and eyes the gold and blue speculatively. "That one's going to
give her lifemate a hectic but good time," she says, now moving over
towards Isawen and the others, now that everyone she'd been standing with
had been snatched. "And that /blue/. He's interesting."
From the hatching sands, Spasmodic tremors grip the Placidly Reflective
egg, small bits of shell cracking away from the whole until a pale
sun-lightened bronze steps from the rubble. Wingtips skate across the sand
as balancing aids, letting him to 'fake' that graceful look without tipping
over. Look at me, he seems to be strutting, I'm the most suave, debonai-
ooph. One of those wingtips caught on a Candidate's foot, sending him
sprawling across the sand, muzzle burying painfully in the hot pale grains.
He's still a long moment, eyes screwed shut. Then he opens one eye
cautiously, checking. They're still here. They -saw- that. One of those
white-robed figures pushes from between the others, worry clouding his
features. "He's still down, he must be hurt! He must be- must-" The lad
stands stock still, swaying, then collapses into the sand beside the
bronze, who is now butting his head up against him. "He's mine!"
From the hatching sands, Tarien watches as Telgar's latest queen sets off
on her quest for a lifemate. Wry, to K'ran, she notes, "At least I'll have
time before she graduates."
From the hatching sands, Isawen grins at the scrambling blue. It isn't
until Falan's gasp that she notices the gold. "Oh." Then she's nodding at
Juliri's approach. "He -is- interesting. They all are. I wish I could watch
them all at once!" Shuffle shuffle shuffle.
From the hatching sands, Dusky Activist Gold Hatchling barely pays
attention to her clutchmates as they move about the sands, but to avoid
colliding -with- them. The group of Candidates is her destination, breaking
into a speedy, awkward run, sand sticking to her residue left all over her
muted hide. Her wings are lifted up and out to steady her as she reaches a
stout girl from Keroon. Dismissing her immediately, she moves along and
through the white robes, her haste in no way abating.
From the hatching sands, K'ran nods quickly, his eyes also drawn by the
blue's race, and offers, "Anything I can do, as always," with a wry smile.
"And maybe you can lean on Gay a little, too?"
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles again. "OOOOH, a Gold!" he says as
he seems to have spotted this one only now. "she's awesome isn't she?" he
says, addressing to Fayne.
From the hatching sands, Juliri, immediately gaining a cautionary look as
the gold plows right through the ranks of the candidate, begins to worry
her lip. "She's going so /fast/. If she comes over here, I'll have no time
to get out of her way." Obviously, this thought is enough to be a certain
degree of stress to her, and she glances towards Isawen. "I know. At least
the blue isn't moving /nearly/ as fast." And is, thus, safer.
From the hatching sands, Midnight's Moonshadowed Blue Hatchling has found
her. -His-. With an urgency suddenly conveyed through alert stiffness of
shoulders and sails, he focuses on a girl with pale, pale hair, his creel
turning into the softness of a churr in his throat. Watch them all at once?
He's the -only- one who needs watching. One lunge brings him to her, his
Isawen, and he butts up against her, carefully light.
From the hatching sands, Falan's eyes tear up and she moves back as Isawen
is approached by the blue. She couldn't look happier.
From the hatching sands, The Graceful White Birds egg has been swaying
wearily since the hatching began, and those swaying movements are now
further apart, less energetic. Tired. So tired! Finally another egg careens
into it with a loud -SMACK- and a crack begins, wending its way around the
egg until it collapses to reveal an exhausted sea-green hatchling. She lies
on the sand a moment, breathless, a little stunned, and it's only with the
encouragements of her dam that she bravely struggles to her feet, wending
her way like a drunken sailor amongst the candidates. It's not surprising,
considering her earlier difficulties, when she falls flat on her face
before a small group of candidates, what is surprising is when a
dark-haired girl from Telgar's own lower caverns bends to help her up. Her
normally bland face turns radiant, the cry of her lifemate's name lost in
the green's urgent creels.
From the hatching sands, Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling stands quite
still in the wreckage of his egg, glancing inquiringly from side to side.
No one warned him about this. Is there a protocol to follow? With excessive
caution, he steps out into the world, damp midnight wings dragging
awkwardly as he finds his footing. Once all four feet are planted, he takes
time to shake them out, showering a clutchmate with sand. Now he can face
the world. Which seems mainly to consist of white things. With a high
hopeful creel that might shatter unwary eardrums, he starts his lumbering
progress. Full speed ahead!
From the hatching sands, Fayne dares a sidelong glance at the gold. "She's
beautiful. Oh, look," she points at Isawen. "Another!"
From the hatching sands, Isawen is starting to nod at Juliri when suddenly
there's a little blue butting into her. Then she bends down to better see
and touch him. "You -are- mine, Aldenth! And I am yours!"
From the hatching sands, Dusky Activist Gold Hatchling is quickly becoming
impatient, her search taking far too long for her liking. On the plus side,
movement is becoming easier as she becomes used to it and as both hide and
wings dry in the heat. Hungry, irritable creels issue from her as she
continues along, barely glancing at girls as she dismisses them one by one.
Not one of them is right, and her lack of success causes her eyes to tinge
red, bright with anger. A hopeful young woman with short blonde curls is
eyed for a long moment, then she turns away - the girl's face falls and she
watches the small gold hurry away, further along.
From the hatching sands, I'sai returns, wiping his wet mouth - he'd drained
nigh an entire waterskin - with the back of his hand; he pauses to look
towards the far side of the clutch, tracking that blue and... "Isawen.
-Well-." He looks beyond, then, to see whether it's M'fraid or Yselle who's
taking her over, S'fin distracted with the exhausted little green... but
then comes the heart-of-oak hatchling. "'Ware the blue!"
From the hatching sands, Juliri, again finding that another of her friends
has been snatched away, looks gleeful, coming up on her tiptoes and aiming
a bright, happy smile in Isawen's direction. "Isawen! Oh, congratulations!
Yselle's going to work you to /death/, though," she says, imparting this
information with a wry grin. Look, she's almost about to cry.
From the hatching sands, Londers nods smiling towards Isawen. He dares to
make a slight thumb-up sign but no more.
From the hatching sands, The Glass-Covered Grass egg shatters, sending
shards like shrapnel several feet in every direction, revealing another
green who will eventually take her place in Telgar's fighting wings. For
now, however, she simply makes a beeline for a dark-haired lad for Bitra,
who thought himself too old for Impression. "Saliath! Of course I'm here."
From the hatching sands, Tarien smiles, looking up toward the galleries to
spot the named junior, nodding, "Yes, of course. And, Nimiriel and Kindre
are still here, of course -- there's no shortage of help just yet."
From the hatching sands, Yselle is on her way back from the brown-pile-up,
skirting the new bronzerider and his lifemate, with a curious glance for
that gold and a muttered "I wouldn't change you for any gold," probably
lost in the babble, when the blue finds Isawen, and without even a glance
for I'sai, maybe she's getting the hang of all of this now? She heads over
to Isawen, smiling warmly, her eyes first to the blue, checking him as by
reflex, then up to her new lifemate. "Isawen," she smiles.
"Congratulations. Let's get him out of here."
From the hatching sands, Aldenth keeps constant touch with his Isawen,
rubbing ridges on hip, curving dark wingsails against her as though
reassuring himself she is there, and there to stay.
From the hatching sands, Yselle heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Isawen can't seem to keep her eyes off of her new
lifemate, but she does nod at Yselle's words and moves to the barracks.
From the hatching sands, Aldenth heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Isawen heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling arrives at one
end of the Candidate semicircle, steering around two greens with low
rumbles of annoyance. He has the right of way here, there are things to do,
a Someone to find. His pace is decorous, pauses miniscule in front of the
occasional lad or lass as he considers their potential. But he must stop
now and again, to shake clinging bits of sand from his talons, or burnish a
bit of stickiness off his cobalt muzzle. He has an image to maintain. With
a disdainful snort at a sniffling girl from Benden, he continues.
From the hatching sands, Fayne shifts from foot to foot in the hot hatching
sands. "Hot," she says to Londers, fanning her face with her free hand.
From the hatching sands, Londers lifts one feet and then the other one
short time after. "Sure it is, I fear my feet would be burned" he says,
looking down.
Yenedrien smiles and nods
From the hatching sands, Falan looks over at the others around her as the
flurry of Impressions take place, shifting back and forth from foot to foot
not unlike a spiderclaw.
From the hatching sands, Dusky Activist Gold Hatchling is reaching a peak
of irritation, hunger, and pure exhaustion - getting out of her shell was
work enough, and she's so much to -do-... if only she could find the Right
One. More girls scatter in her wake, as she begins to slow - then there!
There! What took her so long? Her fatigue forgotten, she dashes across the
hot sands to a tall woman with pale eyes and dark brown hair. Her partner,
her equal - her lifemate. At last.
From the hatching sands, Dana bounces in place in the sands--yep, she's
staying far, far away from that gold, but she's beaming now with each
Impression that's made. Not many eggs left? It doesn't seem to be a bother
to her.
From the hatching sands, Unobtrusively, the Heart Of Sapphire egg
fractures, chunks of deep blue shell falling into the sands, forgotten.
Once enough of the shards have fallen away, the shy, light brown dragonet
hidden within is revealed. It takes some time for him to actually *look* at
the Candidates, but hunger is a good motivator. His eyes flare red, and he
moves forward, stumbling at the feet of a similarly shy one, who calls out
in a surprisingly strong voice, "Of course I'm your R'min, Evaneth!"
From the hatching sands, Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling parades along,
head held high. Most of his initial unsteadiness has been tamed into a
methodical promenade meant to display all his glory--neatly folded wings,
water-sapphirine body, spray-topped head knobs, and shining eyes--to the
watchers on the Sands and ledges. Each and every Candidate is looked at,
but only that, until he reaches the end of the line. There he stands, in
sober reflection, a soft creel vibrating in his throat. 'Tis a hard
decision, and what if--? But no, he knows the proper thing to do, and
begins to traverse the line again with purpose.
From the hatching sands, Fayne's gaze fixes upon that blue. Like Dana,
she's not looking at that gold, either. "He's handsome, isn't he?"
From the hatching sands, Falan claps as she sees the gold Impress, smiling
at Juliri as if her head's about to spin off. "How wonderful!"
From the hatching sands, Londers smiles warmly to Fayne. "sure he is" he
looks on the other side to see Juliri Impressing the Gold. "ohhhh, Juliri
Impressed the gold me think" he says grinning.
From the hatching sands, Juliri was just about to step out of the way, when
- looking down, she opens her mouth, and then closes it, wordlessly.
"Ma-Mala-Malaith?" the Igenite stutters, still looking down at the little
gold. Another moment passes like this, and then she falls to her knees,
arms wrapping around Malaith's neck. "Of course you can have some food."
From the hatching sands, It's hard to tell that the Blue-Winged Bird egg
has cracked--the flash of talon that appears is as blue as the markings
upon the shell. Finally, he tumbles out into the sands, uniform in color
but for a streak of green-blue which runs from muzzle to tail. After a few
moments at the hunt, he stops in front of Therese, crooning smugly, and
stakes his claim. "Oh, Cauleth!"
From the hatching sands, Heart of Oak Ocean Blue Hatchling has a
destination in mind and is not to be stopped. Avoiding an eager Nabolese
lad (though the boy's efforts get him sideswiped by a lashing lapis tail),
he speeds up into full-on progress. Obstacles shall be plowed away! Enemies
shall be defeated! He comes to a mostly-gliding halt in front of two, a boy
and girl standing close, and plants stony talons firmly before looking up
into the tall girl's dark-blue eyes with fervent adoration. Madam, at your
service, with all compliments.
From the hatching sands, I'sai keeps watching, and watching out for, that
seafaring blue on the move now that Aldenth's taken care of. Given the
effectiveness of the hatchling's promenade, it's only at length that he
notices young Malaith's Impression, and that with a decidedly
under-the-breath mutter; still, after a glance towards the ledges, it's
easy enough to summon a professional air, even a smile for the chosen pair
as he heads their way. Once they've had a few moments to themselves, "Come
on, get up, this way. Guess there're two of you who aren't heading back to
Igen," he adds, leading them towards the barracks; and when it looks as if
she might have enough focus for outside things, "What was her name again?"
From the hatching sands, Fayne seems about to say something in response to
Juliri's impression, but her attention is stolen away -- not by her
brother, but by that handsome blue, which is now in front of her. "Oh.
Oh... Forioth!"
From the hatching sands, Simone looks around, beaming at the impressees,
and skitters off to make sure the hatching feast is set up properly.
From the hatching sands, Londers tears streaks down his face as he sees his
sister Impress. "Congrats sister" he says, grinning from ear to ear.
Simone walks over from the hatching sands.
Simone walks out into the bowl.
From the hatching sands, "Malaith," Juliri responds, still looking
appropriately shocked and speechless. "She's Malaith," comes the answer
with a bit more assurance, face suffused with happiness. Then, she treks
after I'sai towards the barracks.
From the hatching sands, I'sai heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Malaith follows Juliri, impatient for her lifemate
to hurry, but not wanting to lose sight of her. Her wings spread wide to
flick off the last of the egg goop as she leaves the sands.
From the hatching sands, Juliri heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Malaith heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Forioth just croons and leans his head confidently
into Fayne. Everything's going to go swimmingly now...did he hear a mention
of food?
From the hatching sands, Yselle seems to have a thing with being /right/
there when blues impress. Perhaps her flirtatious lifemate is already
sizing up the latest batch of would-be suitors. Whatever the case, there's
Fayne, there's Forioth, and there's her, just emerging from the barracks.
She almost trips over the tail-lashed boy as he stumbles in her way, but in
the end, finds herself with the weyrling pair. "Fayne," she murmurs, just
loud enough to carry over the noise. "Forioth? He's beautiful isn't he?
Let's get him away from the commotion," she indicates the barracks again,
pausing for a smile for the blue as well. "Congratulations, well done."
From the hatching sands, Fayne's knees shake as she rests a hand on
Forioth's neck. Her eyes fill as she looks at Londers one last time, then
she's off to the barracks, knees still wobbling, as she follows Yselle.
From the hatching sands, Fayne heads off towards the bowl on the way to the
weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Forioth heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Yselle heads off towards the bowl on the way to
the weyrling barracks.
From the hatching sands, Tarien, observing the last of the weyrlings make
her way into the barracks, squeezes K'ran's hand one last time, and steps
forward. "This is one of the hardest speeches that a Leader ever has to
make. All of you should remember, however... you were chosen to stand here
for a reason. Our Search dragons saw something in you, and just because
your lifemate was not here on the sands today does not mean that you have
lost it. Nor does it mean that you have failed. It simply means that today
was not your time." She takes a deep breath, wipes quickly at her eyes, and
says, "You are all more than welcome to remain here at Telgar if you wish.
We would be happy to see you stay. If you wish to return home, however, all
you have to do is let us know. And, I would like to add...thank you for
spending this time with us. If there is anything that we can do, please let
us know."
Amasen watches with rapt curiosity, and perhaps sympathy, for the
candidates left behind.
From the hatching sands, Falan nods and waits to be dismissed, her feet
still shuffling on the hot sands.
From the hatching sands, Dana, realizing that there *are* no more, takes a
deep breath, nodding as she listens to the Weyrwoman. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
From the hatching sands, As the last of the hatchlings trundle off the
sands in the company of their new lifemates, Indrath seems to relax, likely
for the first time since the eggs were clutched many months ago. His
posture shifts from tense and watchful to easy humor, and he noses Mirrath
lightly, affectionately, every bit the proud parent.
From the hatching sands, Tarien quietly adds, "For those of you who wish to
return home, you need only ask, and we'll find someone to take you home.
For now, however, are no longer under the restrictions of a Candidate, so
you may join the festivities. And please remember, we are here for you if
you need us."
Amasen walks out into the bowl.
From the hatching sands, By Tarien's shoulder, K'ran's simply nodding; at
her last words, his lips quirk in a smile, and he adds, "For anything. A
ride, advice, a drink, whatever."
From the hatching sands, Mirrath nudges softly at Indrath once more, then
she whuffs at those remaining, steps away, spreads her wings, and launches
into the air. Tarien watches, then smiles at the others, "My apologies --
she's eager for a bath. You're all free to go, now -- and thank you. You
have truly honored us with your presence."
From the hatching sands, Londers walks over towards the galleries.
From the hatching sands, Falan walks over towards the galleries.
From the hatching sands, Dana tugs the knot off her shoulder, grins at
Tarien, and starts toward the galleriies. "I am dying for something cold to
drink." She waves, and takes herself off.