Fort Hatching: Left early!

[blueaid]

RL Date: 7/19/08
IC Date: 2/31/17 Played on Too MUSH.

Note: Wound up leaving early. Tags include people I actually RPed with, not anyone else there / Impressions.

FTW Gallery(#456RJ$)
The galleries in the Hatching Grounds stretch the length of the southern wall of the cavern. Broad sweeps of stone benches provide ample seating for spectators. Above and across from here are ledges where the dragons perch to welcome new eggs and hatchlings. From your vantage point, you can see everything that happens on the sands.

Stairs to the northwest, at the end of the galleries, lead back down to the entrance to the hatching grounds. The Hatching Ground sands spread out before you to the northeast, and are accessible by another set of stairs to the north.

From the sands, The dragons are humming, the weyr is bustling and alive with excitement at the prospects of new pairs! Preparations have been made, guests, weyrfolk and admins move about, jockeying for their positions. Soldreth and Ciath are awake and alert, the sire and dam anxiously watching the mound of now fully displayed eggs cautiously. It is time!

The tip of Satiet's delicate little nose twitches a little as she steps up the stairs and into the throng of masses (and their subsequent sweating stench) that greets her senses. Low words are spared to her companion, her dark head of hair tipped to one side before she turns and visually picks a path out towards free seats.

From the sands, M'yr has been through this before but he's still pacing. Inside his jacket is a bulge which is caught with his left hand. The bottle of fine wine, no surprise here, is held out to P'draig and S'fox.

From the sands, P'draig gives the Weyrleader a reassuring nod, thumbs hooked through belt-loops. The extension of the bottle though, is accepted with a grin and the Weyrlingmaster swigs, then passes the bottle on to S'fox. "Here we go," he murmurs under his breath.

The petite green Amiyuth makes a quiet arrival, backwinging down to alight on a ledge. Her eyes are glittering brightly, the blue facets brilliant with anticipation as a delicate hum makes her throat vibrate. A moment after her arrival, K'vel picks his way up the steps to the galleries, electing to go along the first, emptiest row he can find, briefly checking the seat for dirt before he sits down.

From the sands, Dekelvai half-ambles, half-stumbles on out to the sands, with a final pat of his hand along his hair, down his robe, against his chest, seeming quite unruffled (except, of course, for his usual ineptness, where he trips over his own feet) - though his face-splitting grin belies /that/ first notion fairly quickly. Nervous? Maybe. Absolutely tickled pink? More likely. Not even all his strict self-discipline can erase this particular smile, and to Ciath and Soldreth he flourishes, gracious though quite brimming with ebullience.

T'mic and his red-headed companion are settled into a pair of good seats about a quarter of the way up the galleries. As the candidates start moving onto the sands she stops chattering for a moment, glances at the dark-haired man. Mic sits up straighter and watches - not the Candidates, nor the eggs, but the small group of Fort's weyrling staff.

From the sands, Berit gives a low, stilted bow to the clutch parents, her expression not budging an inch from its tempered, blank state, and then she moves towards the semi-circle of candidates. She wedges herself between two other girls of a height and age similar to hers, though one is grinning broadly and the other looks on the verge of tears.

X'lar makes his way up the steps toward the seats of the gallery, a look over his shoulder at something, and soon his walking resumes. A beat as Xie notices Satiet in front of him, making the Istan grimace. Another beat as he finally finds a free seat, sitting down carefully, eyes on the sands below. One hand, however, drops into his pocket and takes out a meatroll. Best be prepared, after all. A grin is sent to those candidates as they arrive as well.

One advantage to being petite is that one can fit in tight quarters and Viviana smiles charmingly as she squeezes by two tallish bronzeriders from Teglar. "I hope you don't mind, you've both got lovely backsides but I am afraid they'd distract me from the little darlings on the sands."

From the sands, Acadia walks out onto the Sands in the middle of the candidates. She makes an abbreviated bow to the dam and sire before moving off to the side, away from the eggs.

From the sands, Xhaiden sweeps onto the sands, looking only a shadow of his usual self. Skinny and scrawny with only his thin robs on and plain as parchment for a change. Still, he carries himself as though he's in his gather finery as he moves with the others, looking for a good place to situate himself. For the viewing pleasure of those in the stands. Right.

Illya hasn't been seen around Fort for a good few Turns now, so quite why she's here is anyone's guess. She scowls down towards the sands, irritated by something and not mkaing any attempt to hide it.

N'thei enters with Satiet, but there's the distinct air of not being /with/ Satiet, possessive of her one arm but not possessive of her person. He's just window-dressing for entrance purposes, barely tilts an ear to catch the murmur. "Sit down front," he says succinctly, meant as a command or a suggestion or a head's-up?, headed for a bench-row that's already amply crowded, oblivious to the goldrider's good intentions of finding empty seats.

From the sands, Jendel's first reaction as she walks out onto the suddenly bustling grounds is a bit of a grimace. It is, after all, /much/ warmer than anywhere else in the Weyr - and the heat's only intensified by all the people watching this /very/ important event! Oy! She looks over towards Berit, who's very nervous, and Deke, who seems to be absolutely excited. Compared to the vast display of emotions from the others, the former butcher is almost emotionless - which is quite far from true! She feels a nudge to her abdomen from another female Candidate, who whispers something to her. Jendel gives the other Candidate a look, though then she follows it up by bowing to the dam and sire of the clutch - well, it's only polite, right?

From the sands, Paige's hand flails for Nerine's as she's jostled out onto the sands by a taller candidate behind her; white-faced and trembling, she manages a shaky sort of bow in the direction of sire and dam, trying in vain to find her friend in the midst of the many white-robed people stumbling into place. A hand tugs unhappily at her robe, unwittingly pulling a thread or two loose.

Bennath is hot on Amiyuth's tail, swinging in for a landing with his young rider. Phara leaps from him as soon as he lands on the ledges, shuffling to get a good spot where she can see the sands well.

From the sands, Aeriste isn't grinning, unlike Deke. Expression remote, countenance blanched, he nonetheless offers the dragons a formal bow. His lips move almost imperceptibly, a subvocal mutter completely lost in the general brouhaha. He ends up somewhere near Dekelvai and Xhaiden, and stands very, very still.

Fine brows lift, arced into what might be the sort of quelling look Satiet might grant an errant scullery maid, but soon, those thin lips shape mocking and further words are spared for the Weyrleader who's already on his way, and leading her way, towards front row seats. "Drink?" is asked slyly once they're seated, a lifted flask tipped to N'thei.

From the sands, Nerine was apparently over her fit of clumsy dressing Nerine sets wide silver eyes on the massive clutch parents and gives a somewhat graceful curtsey. "No fear" she whispers low more to herself and Paige than anyone else. The once scribe shows little sign of fear however as she stands confidently a smile crossing her lips. She gives the girl a bright grin, and scans the stands for familiar faces, most likely beaming with pride at the moment. "Don't panic, and don't be afraid." She whispers to her friend. A wild grin crosses her lips. This was the moment they all had waited for.

From the sands, The Witch Lights at Dawn egg shivers in place, sides rippling with motion then going still. Little grains of sand flee from its sides and it shakes again, rocking to and fro briefly before coming to a halt again.

B'rin ambles around the stands, trying to find a familiar face to sit with. The young brownrider loved to attend hatchings, especially since he was now a rider himself, and it reminded him of his special day. Sifting through the stands, he finally finds a friend, and taps X'lar on the shoulder. "Hey."

A'deth slips through the crowd, a slender study in black and silver, and finds himself a seat near the front. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and intently surveys the Sands.

From the sands, T'aren moves to the edge of the sands, directing one small rather excitable lad to stand over there and remember to dodge. He shrugs a shoulder as though the weight of the assistant weyrlingmaster's knot was particularly noticeable on this particular day. Though his expression is calm enough, a glance goes up towards the ledges where his lifemate observes and hums along with the rest. Then his attention snaps back to the sands. The first eggs are rocking. It begins.

Amiyuth favours Bennath with a polite croon of greeting, but her humming is interrupted only briefly - eggs are about to hatch! She's watching that rocking clutch curiously. K'vel glances up at the ledge - and Bennath - momentarily, but, like his weyrmate, he's more interested in the clutch.

From the sands, The Strike Egg wobbles from side to side a few times, but to no avail. Within moments it has come back to rest against one of the other eggs. All's quiet again.

From the sands, Paige turns round eyes onto Nerine as they get into place, expression utterly terrified. 'Are you kidding?' her incredulous stare all but screams; words are beyond her for the moment, eyes scrunching shut in a clear attempt to shut everything out. Not happening, not happening. Not happening -- and her eyes crack back open in time to see the first egg move. So much for denial.

From the sands, Dekelvai's fingers go tap tap tap against his hip, the swift and restless tattoo of his poorly-concealed excitement. Shuff shuff, his feet go up and down on the sands in the traditional Candidate dance, one dance even Deke can't mess up, and he leans towards Aeriste, as though to mutter something, an assurance or well-wishing or some such thing but he's caught up short by the twitch-shudder of the Witch Lights at Dawn egg. "Aeriste," he finally manages, out of the corner of his mouth, "Good luck, yeah?"

X'lar is caught mid-bite by Basq's tap on his shoulder. "Shells, Basq, don't do that!" Xie remarks, grinning at him. "I'm eating here!" He nods toward the sands before offering, "It's already starting. I love this part. It is like the calm before the storm." He shifts some to allow his wingmate to sit down next to him.

People move. Deference to rank most likely. N'thei sees Satiet seated first, then occupies the excess of empty space next to her down in front-- nice view, people least likely to try and start conversation, he looks quite content when he sits with his arms crossed. Reminiscent of Satiet's sweat-smell expression (without the delicacy), he flares his nostrils at the flask; "Pass." Polite attention to the eggs, slightly more to the poor people marching out to meet them, frown to land a look on Ciath.

Phara lands in a seat next to K'vel, and grins at him. "Just like yesterday it was us down there, eh?" She offers giddily. Bennath shifts his weight and joins his humming to the rest of the din, neck craning his blue head outwards to observe.

From the sands, Nerine is intent on the event at hand, She squeezes Paige's hand attempting to offer comfort to the girl. Her booted feet are already beginning to feel the heat of the sand and sucks in a breath as the first two eggs move. Her eyes shift over her fellow candidates a smile curling, "No I am not" she whispers to her friend. "You will be fine." She pauses as her gaze remains firmly on the eggs. "We all will."

From the sands, Jendel, gratefully, doesn't seem as nervous as many of the other Candidates - only a small smirk on her face as she watches the two eggs quiver and stay still again. Soon enough, she too begins quivering - well, more like hopping around, doing the infamous "Candidate dance." However, even as she's hopping, she can't help but tell the nearby Candidates, "aye, g'luck, y'hear?"

From the sands, Xhaiden bows fluidly towards the sire and dam of the eggs with a sly grin and then settles beside Aeriste and Dekelvai. Poor poor Aeriste is given a light nudge. "It's going to be over before you realize it. You might as well ... you know, enjoy it." Then he looks up at the stands, squinting that way in the hopeless attempt to see a face from the distance. "Eh...and good luck, right." Extending that to the two guys as well as those nervously clustered near him.

From the sands, Aeriste reaches up as if to grip Deke's arm, but he drops his hand to his side before contact can even be made. His silent monologue interrupted, he says to the other Candidate, "Yes. We promised." He can't keep as still as he'd like, either: the heat makes him shift his weight from foot to foot. "We promised."

Deference to rank or is that N'thei's sheer size? Either way, Satiet's not about to quibble as the masses part in front of them to their seats and the offered flask is discreetly tucked back into the folds of her gatherish gown. While the Reaches Weyrleader looks to Fort's senior queen, Satiet observes the crowds around them, thin shoulders lifting a little in distaste as a particularly slovenly man to her other side leans towards her a little in his attempt to get comfortable.

Viviana looks out at the candidates below with bright eyes and an anticipatory smile. Her glance goes up to the ledges and a quiet moment is shared before something on the sands garners her attention.

From the sands, And he adds to Xhaiden, "And you, too."

From the sands, Berit grips the side of her robe with trembling hands, twisting the material in great knots of white. For this being her second time standing, she appears no less terrified than if it had been her first. Her eyes follow the progress of the rocking eggs.

B'rin meets X'lar's surprise with a good natured chuckle. "What did I do?" B'rin pouts, trying to act innocent before taking the seat next to Xie. "Aye, it's exciting! The suspense, the th- oh look, it's wobbling!" A pause, before the Istan shakes his head. "Nope, stopped. Soon, though!"

From the sands, The Witch Lights at Dawn Egg shimmies again, rolling about a little in its hollow of sand then suddenly starts shaking in earnest. Crazily rocking from side to side, its occupant seems to be determined to /get out/ and get out fast.

From the sands, *** Melding Metal Chain Bronze ***
The subtle sheen of disparate metals melding together twines in flickering whorls and traces along this stocky bronze dragon's sides. A squared muzzle and deep-set eyes are the highlights of a blocky head that sports blunted headknobs and is high-set onto a solid neck. Looping, angled ridges drape a long chain down his back before spilling between his wingspars. Sturdy limbs support a broad torso that tapers back through the midsection, hips seeming narrow by contrast and trailing down into long, well-formed paws. Folded wings drape his back like a long cloak, billowing wide when open, light tracing out the impression of hammered, mottled shapes within translucent vanes.

X'lar grins back at Basq, finishing off his meatroll. "I jinxed Telgar's last hatching by talking about mauling. Soon after that, that candidate guy got mauled." He winces at the thought before going on to say, "In any case, I'm sure Fort's will be fine and without any maulings." He pauses and then looks out to the sands, saying, "But correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't that girl at the Telgar hatching too?" He nods out toward Berit before glancing back to B'rin, grinning once more at his wingmate. "Soon then, yeah," he offers. From a pocket of his flight jacket, X'lar takes another meatroll out and begins eating once more. "Oh look! Bronze!" Xie exclaims. "That's the best omen /ever/."

From the sands, One end of the Strike Egg lurches forward suddenly. The whole egg shakes briefly, then it lurches forward again. A faint thumping noise comes from inside, but it's lost in the chaos of the hatching.

Viviana overhears B'rin and turns to give the former Reaches stablehand a quick smile and a wave. A very quick smile it is as she's peering down at the hatching dragons. "Bronze! Is that good luck? I can never remember these things.."

From the sands, Nerine chimes in her wild smile perhaps revealing more emotion than just elation. "Good Luck" And she pushes away any other thought but joy warmth and welcome. Giving Paige a comforting squeeze every now and then, her breath is lost as the first egg to burst yields a bronze.

B'rin gives X'lar a sympathetic pat on the shoulder - and then follows it up by saying "well then, don't jinx this one." Wink. The brownrider then nods, and says, "I sure hope so, for their sake," he says, gesturing towards the Candidates. He chuckles at X'lar, though it's Viviana he replies to. "Aye, should be!"

K'vel almost starts - almost - when Phara suddenly appears beside him, but the green weyrling quickly relaxes when he realises who it is. "Yeah...it's even more amazing now, I think, seeing it after you've done it." His upper teeth bite down on his lower lip as the eggs rock, and when the first cracks shell he lets out a breath he doesn't realise he's held. "A bronze. Good sign."

From the sands, Paige looks as though she still doesn't quite believe Nerine's burst of confidence, feet pinched and moving uncomfortably, but she returns the other girl's grip with a scared clasp of her own. Though unable to keep from gasping as the first dragonet emerges, at least the color's beginning to return to her face - or maybe that's just the heat.

From the sands, Deke sends a appreciative glance Xhaiden's way, a nod of agreement and thanks as his gaze slips past and onward to the pale Harper boy. He makes a feeble attempt to grasp back at Aeriste's hand, and the fisher lad echoes, "We promised -" But here's the crack-snap-tumble of the first dragonet, and Deke's grin splits wide and broad and wholly delighted, and anything on the tip of his tongue has been forgotten as he cranes for a better look. A bronze - fair good omen, that, isn't it?

Phara tips her head to the side as the first egg breaks and a bronze appears. "Good luck indeed." She drawls. "But blues are far better." Partial? Definitely.

From the sands, Parhelion Pup Egg has been tapped and hammered by the limbs of its occupant long enough that the cracks have split the egg in four. The shell falls away as a curtain, revealing its dainty green occupant. She wastes no time in tottering out towards the white-robed candidates, but this pretty damsel soon finds herself in distress as one foot put wrong sends her sprawling, claw reaching out to try to steady herself. "Watch it!" Philyp cries to a nearby candidate, reaching out one of his pudgy hands to yank the candidate out of the way of the green's swipe, and her creel of distress has the lad blinking his puppy-dog brown eyes furiously, "Oh, goodness, Daizath, of course, you need helping too!" And Ph'lyp moves to provide that help.

From the sands, Jendel is steady - well, at least steadily hopping away as she and the other Candidates wait for the first egg to hatch. Oh wow, the suspense! And then, finally, and egg hatches! "'ey, a bronze!" Jendel is, of course, pleased with this hatching's first hatchling being a bronze - hopefully that means good things would be in store for this clutch, aye! And, right before her eyes, a green hatches and Impresses to... "was't Philyp?" She asks to a nearby Candidate, before heartily shouting, "Congr'ts!"

Lujayn squeezes into the back of the galleries just in time to miss the first hatchling - by the flying conversation and snatches of words, it's not hard for the 'Reachian Junior to piece together what's happened. Wasting no time getting out of the walkway, she perches on the end of a row and keeps a sharp eye out for seats with a better view.

From the sands, Xhaiden moistens his lips at the hatching of not just one but two of the eggs at once. "So, guess that's good luck right? Bronze first? But good luck for whom?" He glances around at the candidates nearest to him just in time to see Ph'lyp impress. "And a /green/? Oh, that will be interesting." Not exactly talking to anyone, just drawling to himself really.

"About anything related to bronze is good luck," X'lar calls out, blinking as he spots the source of the question. "Hey Vivy." His attention returns back to the eggs and the newly hatched bronze. But B'rin's comments have him grinning again, saying, "Hey you got lucky during our hatching, not getting mauled at all. Not a drop of blood whatsoever on you." At Lujayn's arrival, X'lar offers a simple wave, smiling at the Reachian junior, offering, "Ista's duties, Lujayn."

From the sands, Berit takes in a deep, shuttering breath as the first dragon hatches from its shell, and holds it in growing trepidation as the green hatchling reaches out a claw. She finally releases it when Impression is made, her shoulders slumping forward, as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

From the sands, Boom! The intent shaking of the Witch Lights at Dawn Egg comes to a halt and bursts outwards in a rain of broken shards. A compact bundle of bronze hide and limbs remains behind, one eye cracked open and peering this way and that around the Sands. The Melding Metal Chain Bronze hatchling opens the other eye, takes a more complete look around. Finally, he unfolds one wing, one limb at a time and without any further hesitation plows off across the Sands to make his mark.
Almost immediately he ducks behind an unhatched egg, peering out from behind it, eyeing the Candidates a little warily.

From the sands, Aeriste looks the bronze's way, too- the first egg to crack, and he's riveted, but the commencement of the chaos has him glancing this way and that, his eyes widening even further as the first Impression is made. His fingers curl tightly 'round Dekelvai's. "Good luck for him," he says to Xhaiden, "At least."

Viviana smiles gratefully at B'rin's confirmation. "Blues are better though...?" She peers over at Phara. "Honestly, one does need a sheet of what is lucky and what isn't. Now see, that young boy down there, he has the luck, the girl doesn't. They are both wearing white -- so, who knows?" If Lujayn catches her wave and scooting over to show there is room on her row,

From the sands, The Strike Egg holds still, until suddenly a crack runs around the top with an almost hollow, echoing sound. A small brown head rises, pushing the shell away as he takes his first look at this new world. Unwilling to tolerate close quarters any longer, he blasts his way out of the remaing bits of egg, using tail, wings and talons to quick and efficient effect. Soon he is sitting on shards, goo dripping off his frame, surveying the other eggs and the ring of Candidates with wary look.

From the sands, *** Larger Than Life Scoundrel Brown ***
Moving with a certain cocky confidence, this brown seems to have it all figured out. Deep russet cloaks his large form, covering his bulk from sculpted snout to long-taloned feet to wiry tail-tip. His body is uniform in color save for a splash of cream on his chest that reaches for his throat but leaves an odd 'notch' just below his chin. The blackness between the stars darkens the sweep of his wingsails, creeps to coat wingtips with the gleam of midnight's ebony. Built for power, his massive haunches are complemented by wide shoulders and a thick neck topped with blunt-cut ridges. He watches the world from beneath protruding eyeridges; his eyes small, sharp and observant.

K'vel doesn't look away from the sands as he replies to Phara. "Ah...but you're discounting greens." His smile and tone say he's teasing her, though. And then - a brown! "It seems slower up here. Or quicker down there? The speed they're hatching at, I mean." And, again, he worries at his lower lip.

From the sands, Nerine grins as the first hatchling to impress is a green, and too gives a congratulatory shout. Nerves or heat one seems to be setting in now because she shifts nervously from foot to foot. Her breath catches again as a second bronze escapes its shell, she grins to the boys across the way but doesn't let the gesture linger, and then a Brown bursts out and she tosses an almost compulsory glance again. Still her eyes flit back to the shells quickly.

N'thei, possessive of more space than he needs on his side, could do the gentlemanly thing and scoot down so Satiet's not cramped by the sloth to her right-- but he doesn't. Instead; "Lujayn's here." With a look to his left, he ascertains the space it would take to accommodate the goldrider. "With X'lar." A ragged smirk draws to the fore and he leans to impart some tidbit to the rest of the bench, to clear off, make room for whomever N'thei chooses to sit by him, thanks.

Dragon> Wyaeth, being dutiful amid the crowd (though unhappy at the classification of a messenger), passes on a dusty front-row image of Satiet and N'thei, side-by-side, and the whole durn bench empty to the Weyrleader's left. << Sitdown. >>

T'mic joins in the general hubbub over the first dragonet, but it's the first impression that's caught his attention. "Pretty little thing," he says out loud, points the sneaking bronze out to the Reachian at his side. "That one'll be a handful."

B'rin chuckles towards the others in their little group, "Aye, seems like there's a lot of things that could be lucky." He then smiles towards Lujayn, "Ista's duties."

From the sands, Paige is too wide-eyed and frozen in place, save for the movements of her feet, to call out congratulations for the first Impression; as a brown joins the bronze, she gives an almost spasmodic jerk, but otherwise, there's no response from her at all. Her grip on Nerine's hand tightens.

From the sands, Fair Weather Friend Egg is quite still, unmoving -- a hunter's patience as the hatchling within waits for the right time to make its appearance.

"Maybe slower." Phara agrees. "Probably because we can see the whole thing from above, rather than it seeming like eggs and hatchlings are all around, right? Less chaos, less movement." She shrugs and grins up at Amiyuth, "Far be it from me to discount greens. Bennath would be displeased if I did."

From the sands, Dekelvai laughs breathlessly and exhales unsteadily at the cracking and spilling out of this newest dragonet: "Brown. A brown," as though Aeriste or Xhaiden couldn't see him themselves. Back at you, Aeriste - his finger squeeze tense around his hand, though he allows himself a somewhat subdued whoop of congratulations as Ph'lyp - little Philyp, with who he was Searched - Impresses to a green. Blue eyes flick between bronze and brown - come on out, little ones, won't you?

From the sands, Jendel looks towards Paige and Nerine very quickly, as if wanting to help them. However, another hatchling's appearance means her attention is back on the hatching again - a brown! Neither the bronze or the brown seem to be too keen on moving out towards the Candidates - sheesh, making them wait! Jendel keeps a wary eye on them - after all, it just wouldn't do to be inattentive and then get mauled now, would it?

From the sands, A screech of triumph from an untried voice heralds the arrival of a long, lanky brown as he busts out of the Dusty Days Egg. A plume of shards flies in every direction, the dun-hued brown's wings having been the driving force that shattered the shell. They flip and he begins a lengthy stroll about the sands, in no apparent hurry to find his mate. It's the meeting of truepartners as the brown comes to a halt in front of Istan Dalibor, head jerking slightly as though to say 'how 'bout you and me', to which D'bor responds with a sedate shoulder shrug, "All right, Ossierth." Though, the gleam that appears in his hazel eyes belies that mild reaction.

From the sands, Xhaiden scoffs a little at the bronze, "not going to find a rider too quick doing that. Do you think?" He flicks his fingers a little, nose crinkling slightly. "Good odds for another bronze if that one hatched out first. Right?" His eyes scan over the brown and then fix on the other eggs.

K'vel nods, a little sharply, at that commment. "Yeah. Everything's right in your face when you're down there, but up here you're sort of...yeah, above it." He catches the movement as Phara looks up at Amiyuth, and grins. "He's not flirting with Amiyuth up there, is he? She's not saying anything to me at the moment."

Lujayn spots many familiar faces, brightening at the sight of friends. She continues past them with a helpless shrug, her expression of surprise with a little resignation present, to edge into N'thei's row. "Thanks for saving me a seat," Or rather an entire bench? "Thought I was on time.." Guess not.

From the sands, Hop, hop, the Melting Metal Chain Bronze goes from egg to egg and then one breaks apart right in front of him and he backs away rapidly, feet scrabbling for purchase on the hot sands. He bugles once, loudly and glares at his clutchsibling then sidles away, slinking low to the ground behind another egg, kicking shell as he goes.

Unaware of the extra space N'thei might have on his other side, Satiet's hunched shoulders are resigned to retaining this position throughout the length of this hatching. But his cue towards the arrival of Reaches' junior along with her escort garners another lift of those fine brows. "With X'lar," echoes the dark-haired woman, bemused. "They know each other?"

From the sands, Berit easily blends in with the two brunettes on either side of her, but what sets her apart is her stony visage. She has no kind words for her fellow candidates, no comforting smiles, nor does she attempt to hold anyone's hand in an attempt at solace. Quietly, she watches and keeps plucking at the fabric of her robe.

X'lar quickly sits down again, looking over his shoulder at N'thei with a smirk. "Good to see your looks haven't /completely/ gone, N'thei," X'lar remarks to the Reachian Weyrleader. There's a brief look to Satiet, nodding once to her. His attention then shifts back to Lujayn, telling her: "I..." He pauses and then appears sheepish, offering to her: "Want to sit, Lu?" He glances back to the sands and blinks, commenting: "Wow, lots of Impressions already." He grimaces as he hears Satiet's voice again, muttering something under his breath.

From the sands, The Larger Than Life Scoundrel Brown opens his wings and flexes them, sending goo flying. Once the heat from the Sands has dried them somewhat he stumbles forward, intent on inspecting this new world. He avoids the big bronze and gold things, concentrating on the smaller white things nearby.

Viviana blinks, startled out of her oohing over the sands. Peering up at the ledges then down at N'thei, she mutters. "I /am/ sitting down. Geesh!" She sends a icy glare at the Reaches Weyrleader's back for good measure but her look is much more sympathetic towards Lujayn. "Stuck with the fuddy-duddies again."

From the sands, While greens are hardly thought of as imposing most of the time, especially just out of the shell, the boxy-shaped young lady that spills from Blinding Bold Egg is a dark green that speaks of untold secrets. Easily she makes her way across the sands and decisively finds herself standing before a Bitran male. She lingers a moment before her tail slaps the sand demandingly. "Oh! Of course, its our secret." But as Gadaben was never able to keep a secret, neither can G'ben, and he announces, "Her name is Vrusith!" And an abashed grin goes to the irritated green, "Sorry! You're too wonderful to keep a secret."

Phara snorts, "The way he moons over her, it wouldn't surprise me." she remarks dryly, perhaps irritated. "'Amiyuth flies so well' 'Amiyuth has the best gams' 'Amiyuth has the finest chassis in the Weyr.' I swear, you'd think the sun sets over her backside. No offense, K'vel." She inclines her head, her mouth twisted up a little in amusement.

Hard to say if N'thei means to sound disapproving or if it's just part of his natural state. "Kid knows everyone. See?" The last added in a mutter when X'lar greets him with so familiar a quip. "Good to see your better judgment hasn't /completely/ gone, boy. Why are you fawning over my junior? Don't want Istan dragons." Reproving, he adds an utterly out-of-place smile to answer Viviana's cold look, concludes, "Don't mention it." Saving a seat. Because he didn't.

From the sands, Aeriste follows Deke's gaze, and then Xhaiden's, and then he shakes his head. "Does it matter?" he asks, his voice edging up into a little shrillness. "We're here, they're here. We'll know soon enough."

From the sands, The Larger Than Life Scoundrel Brown steps in shards left by his former egg-mates with a sharp CRUNCH. He looks down in disgust and tries to shake it off, but that only sends him sprawling. Once he regains his balance he marches forward again, pretending like nothing happened and that he's in control. One group catches his attention in particular, and he heads in that direction.

From the sands, Nerine is overwhelmed by the sudden influx of hatchlings, and her smile fades a little She offers Berit a smile, and squeezes back on Paige's hand if only to keep the girl from breaking her own. Another green impresses and she watches the hatchlings.

From the sands, Fair Weather Friend Egg finally gives a rock, a small little twist that tests the boundaries of its shell. Then it's wobbling a little more, circling the depression it's created for itself in the sand; its own little dance in the sands.

From the sands, The Melding Metal Chain Bronze sneaks around an eggshell and peers out at the ring of Candidates, done playing around for now and seemingly intent on getting down to business. He glides from eggshell to eggshell and sidles up to a slender lad with blond hair and taps his muzzle against the young man's ribs, nudges at his hand then looks up expectantly. Waiting!

From the sands, Paige may not be responding to many Impressions at all, but as Gadaben becomes Vrusith's, there's another spasmodic jerk. Secrets won't stay secrets for long in the weyrling barracks with /that/ pair around. Almost absently, she reaches up to tug at the shoulder of her robe again; another thread comes loose, and the nervous movement suddenly becomes an attempt to keep the material from falling down her back.

K'vel blushes at /that/, despite he being the one who initiated the topic. "Oh?" He clears his throat, focusing on the eggs again and smiling faintly, fondly (no doubt in remembrance of his own Impression) as a green hatches and goes for Gadaben. "Well, at least she'll have at least one admirer when she rises? And none taken." Kyn looks sideways for a moment at Phara, giving her a smile.

"Hey X'lar," Lujayn takes the offered seat, nodding. "I heard everyone gabbing about a bronze right off the bat, is that him?" Making herself comfortable, she leans forward to watch dragonets and candidates alike moving down below. Unsure of what to make of N'thei's comment, Lu shrugs. "Sure we know each other. Rielsath and Malsaeth are friends." As if that explains everything.

From the sands, Xhaiden nods to Aeriste, "of /course/ it matters." And then a slow blink, "although, it's not as though you could say 'sorry, you're too shy for me'." His lips twist a little in a mix of amusement and playful disapointment. His gaze trails after the green and he smirks a bit, "oh, secret? I think he'd sell his sister's secrets for a...." he mutters the rest of it.

From the sands, A cheer erupts from the SmithCraft section of the galleries as almost unnoticed in all the movement on the sands, Maleficent Maelstrom Egg's occupant has shelled and stalks his way towards a Crom-born Smith apprentice. Hisses and foul temper bring this stormcloud of a brown towards the good-natured Zelenar. Intimidating, the beast certainly is, and the lad takes a few steps back to accommodate the brown's advance, until he suddenly stops. On walks the brown until he is nearly nose-to-chest with the youth, eyes turning up to the former Smith's face, making him forevermore Z'enar of Fort. "Okay, Falstath, yeah. We can do this." Z'enar still looks just a /little/ overwhelmed.

X'lar looks over his shoulder again at N'thei, practically gaping at the man's question, looking briefly back to Lu before glancing back at N'thei, asking the Reachian Weyrleader dryly: "Anyone ever tell you that you have great paternal instincts, N'thei?" The Istan bronzer smirks once more and adds, "Hey, Malsaeth's half Reachian after all. Nikoth is his sire and all." At hearing Lu's comments, Xie nods once and rubs at his face. As if perhaps he's just dreaming this conversation. But, as the stands still remain and the Hatching continues, he just turns around again and looks back to the dragons hatching and subsequently Impressing.

Satiet secrets a tiny smile behind thin lips at N'thei's greeting of X'lar. The comment of a potential Istan in the Reachian ranks elicits a not-so-delicate snort and the slender woman finds refuge from laughing outright by looking to the sands when the Smiths' cheer erupts.

From the sands, Aeriste starts to take a sudden step back, and then jerks to a sharp halt. He stares down in absolute disbelief, and for a Harper lad, he's certainly struck wordless! For a moment, anyway. He reaches a shaking hand down to hesitantly touch the bronze who's sidled up to him, and breathes in a voice both absolutely awed and utterly shocked, "His name- His name is Valioth."

From the sands, Keseth has had enough. The time he spent on the hot stuff gave him a chance to inspect the white-robed Candidates and he's made his choice. Swaggering a little as he goes, showing off his new-found prowess at walking, he marches toward a sturdily built girl with greenish eyes and reddish-brown hair, shoving aside a boy who gets in his way with a bump of his nose. He plants himself in front of her and gives her middle a push with his head, mindless of the glop of goo he just left on her robe. Mine all mine.

Phara just looks sour. "Remind me to go hide in my weyr if she starts glowing." She thumps her cheek down onto her fist, watching the eggs wobbling and impressions happening down below.

From the sands, P'draig is just back from escorting another new pair away when he catches Aeriste's Impression and side steps a bit of shell, moving to reach the lad. "Valioth, hmm, Aeriste? And what'll we be calling you from now on? C'mon lad, this way," the Weyrlingmaster says firmly.

Viviana sniffs in response to N'thei's smile and returns to her gazing. As her row is full of jaded riders, she keeps her ooohs and 'awww how adorable' comments to a quiet mutter but she's content to carry on a one-sided conversation. "Valioth. "Very nice name. Strong ..Valiant? Good for a bronze."

From the sands, Dekelvai can't suppress a slightly-too-loud, perhaps-too-nervy chuckle at the brown's antics, and sends another long look Xhaiden's way. "Not helping, Aiden," he murmurs, too quietly, perhaps, for the other lad to hear, but all that's washed away as the bronze stops - unexpectedly near - and butts up to Aeriste. A-A'riste? A'ris? Dekelvai pulls back his hand as though burnt, though grins most broadly for his friend. "Congratulations! You watch him good, okay, Valioth?" Because now Deke can't, now Deke's left all alone with only Xhaiden for what little, dubious reassurance the other boy might offer.

K'vel would probably look disgruntled at Phara's comment if, y'know, he wasn't a bit grossed out about the thought of Bennath winning Amiyuth's flight. "Gotta face it, I guess," he murmurs, before the bronze's Impression catches his eye. "Oh, there he goes. Looks like the brown's gone up to someone as well?" He turns his gaze towards the brown, to see who the lucky girl is.

From the sands, Paige pries her jaws apart enough to mouth something that could be a 'congrats' as Aeriste finds a lifemate in a bronze, but she's still trembling and sweaty, unfreezing enough to start quivering again. Wide eyes turn briefly to Nerine before returning to the twitching eggs.

"No. Do you want to be the first." N'thei smiles doubtfully at the Istan, his eyebrows climbing long enough to highlight the didn't-think-so implication in his tone. His answer for Malsaeth's parentage is a snort, one replete with derision for dropping Nikoth's name, and he seems content to withdraw from harassing the pair of younger riders with unlikely interest to the sands. And an unlikely low comment to the goldrider on his right.
You whisper "Not going to these any more. Just show up for the food afterward." to Satiet.

From the sands, A'riste says quite faintly, "A'riste. There's food this way... Valioth." He stumbles over the name the second time, but he moves carefully to lead the bronze off after P'draig, after a wild glance at both Xhaiden and Dekelvai. "Good luck, Dekelvai, Xhaiden- everyone."

From the sands, Berit tenses up at each new dragon that rises from the egg shards, and one in particular has caught her attention. Bronze he may be, but he is staring expectantly at her friend, Aeriste! "Oh.. my.." One of the girls at her side gives a triumphant cheer for the Impression, while the petite weaver girl can only stare with wide green eyes.

X'lar's eyes are drawn toward the bronze Impression, curiously glancing from bronze to new weyrling. "Interesting," Xie can only offer. "I'm not sure if valiant describes all bronzes," Xie replies to Vivy. N'thei's given another look, but as he withdraws, so does X'lar, his attention returning to the sands.

From the sands, Nerine gives a bright cheer for Aeriste, the noise almost ripping through her throat and her unoccupied hand is shot up in a fist. "CONGRATS AER!" Her wild grin returns, as she glances to Paige comfortingly. "See?" She offers the girl. She watches as a brown heads toward another group.

From the sands, Punching out of its egg, a silvery talon embeds itself through the yellow-and-green shell of the Fair Weather Friend Egg, like an arrow puncturing its target. From that one spot, however, the rest of the shell soon finds itself splintering further, a jagged line running in both directions from the initial point of impact. Finally, the shell crumples, splitting right into two halves that curl away to reveal a Slinking Sylvan Maiden Green.

From the sands, *** Slinking Sylvan Maiden Green ***
With lithe, hunter's grace, this petite green is camouflaged in the forest's shadows. Arrow-sharp talons, cast in silver, tip dainty paws that lead into low limbs, while mossy wingsails drape between spring green 'spars. Spilling through the canopy of her expansive, translucent wings are slivers of sunlight, highlighting the sinuous curves of her thin build and long tail, as well as lending an aura of brightness to her otherwise dark, leaf-dappled hide. That foliage then winds vinelike along her sleek neck and over delicate headknobs tipped with foxfire, culminating in a coy-held head that is distinctly triangular, with its pointed, lichen-tipped muzzle widening into broad cheekbones, and above them, capricious and willful eyes.

Viviana smiles approvingly as she mutters. "Now that's nice and how novel. A 'polite' bronze weyrling actually thinking about his fellow candidates and not just himself. Bravo!" When she turns to respond to X'lar, her smile is pleasant enough. "The dragons, perhaps, the riders? Only time tells."

From the sands, Jendel is hopping a little bit faster - perhaps, a little bit more nervously - as the Hatching becomes more frenzied! Argh, why is it so sharding hot out here!? Wait, there goes the bronze! To Aeriste! And the brown is heading... somewhere. And a green! And another brown Impresses! "Cong'rts!" She shouts to all of the newly Impressed, though one might detect a slight of shakiness before suddenly her green gaze snaps back towards the brown - now right in front of /her/. A smirk, though for a second her body quivers with... joy? No, there wasn't a word for it, other than... "Keseth." And finally, she composes her self, puts her hands right on her hips, and looks the brown right in the eyes, "Aye, s'pose y'could say that. 'n I hear that 'yer... 'ungry. Keseth."

From the sands, Static has been the threat of the ominous grey Impending Doom Egg, but finally the time has come for the hatchling within to take action. A first shiver unearths it from the light piling of sand that had been tucked over it to keep it ensconced in the heat of the hatching sands. Then it's on the move! Weight shifts within the egg which spurs it on a course that sends it rolling down the little mound it was perched atop and when it reaches the even section of the sands it slows, lingering there as though to prolong the worries its protracted presence might create.

From the sands, As Neala and Saryan stand beside one another, quietly snickering over the most recent choices of impressees, their 'mean girl' streaks making them easy companions, both the Glimmering Lights Egg and the On the Horizon Egg burst to reveal a pale, grey-blue hatchling and a petite, pastel green whose first sight in the world is one another. Surprise is foremost, but then giggles reach them and their interest is piqued. Soon enough Neala is gasping: "Twillith, and moving towards the serene, collected blue. Saryan, not to be left behind by her compatriot, is enthralled by her own impression, calling out happily to the sweet little green, "Oh, of /course/ we'll get it /all/ taken care of Sayarith."

From the sands, Waiting in the wings, S'fox has already trekked back and forth between the sands and the barracks a time or two, helping to escort new weyrlings off the sands. Now, he pauses for a moment at the edge of the sand, scanning it until he finds Jendel. Then he sets off at an easy trot to catch her and Keseth. "Hey, c'mon, over this way. Jendel, right? C'mon, let's get 'im fed on up," S'fox says, with his own excitement obvious as he moves to usher the new pair off the sands.

From the sands, Slinking Sylvan Maiden Green looks rather abashed for what's happened to her shell, and for a moment reaches down to nuzzle it, as though she can rebuild it somehow from the wreckage. But finding that well beyond her skills, she resigns herself, and turns attention to the ring of white-clad candidates around her, studying them from this distance first.

From the sands, Xhaiden's lips cannot help but twist into a bit of a smirk, "Congratulations to you A'riste." He watches the two go and then smooths a hand over his patheticly thin robe and then jerks a look towards Jendel and her lifemate. His lips twitch and then he lets out a quiet breath and lifts one foot, shaking some sand off of it midly.

From the sands, Perhaps the little roll down the sandy slope of the mound Impending Doom Egg previously occupied made the occupant a bit on the dizzy side for its moments between the movement that brings it to arrest at the bottom of the hillock and the next move which rocks it from side to side. At first it seems that this is doing the hatchling within no good as it seems to only serve to carve a rut into the sand where it sits. Then with one mighty heave it manages to roll itself over before coming to a halt once more, conserving its energy for the next effort towards freedom.

From the sands, Despite its golden sheen, the Inner Explosion Egg seems all too content to dash the dreams of any girls who might've hoped it would hatch gold, as with a pop the egg bursts and leaves an electric blue hatchling shaking himself free of clinging egg goo. There's a little hop skip and a jump to shed a shard before the hatchling realizes there are eyes upon him and his tail curls up and around his hind legs in a pose of shy surprise. Tentative steps then are taken to move towards the white-robed candidates. Perhaps there's someone there who can shield him from prying eyes? Well, a dragon can dream can't he? And dreams come to fruition as Jiavaran steps forward, "Namuth, over here!" The little lad's eyes sparkle with mischief as he finds his partner in the brightly colored blue. Easily the smallest pair on the sands, J'vran and Namuth are soon hurried off the sands by one of the assistant weyrlingmasters.

From the sands, Slinking Sylvan Maiden Green, with a swish of her wings, steps from the remains of her shell carefully, prancing over pieces of her egg and others until she finds a stretch of open ground from which to regard the candidates again. Then she crouches, tail wriggling behind her until she starts gliding toward the candidates on her small soundless paws.

From the sands, With sure-footed grace, the Slinking Sylvan Maiden Green minces across the sands, wings billowing elegantly around her like a dancer's skirts. Sweeping down the line of candidates, she tilts her head just so, an apologetic gesture for those she must pass by. But there's one she doesn't: one who holds her eyes, and in front of a small and dark-haired girl, she sweeps into what's almost a curtsy, spreading sunlit wings and dipping her head slightly, though those bright eyes never leave her chosen's.

Lujayn's attention bounces between the two bronzeriders and their repartee, settling back with an easy smile when silence lapses over that particular conversation. "Valiant when they have to be, maybe. If they want to be."

Phara snorts, "Ain't gotta face nothing." She says stubbornly, but latches onto a new subject eagerly. "Oh, that's the boy from last night with the gitar!" She says eagerly, and calls out, "Congratulations, Aeriste!" The brown is eyed, "yeah, I've got no clue who she was."

From the sands, A mound of sand kept quite close to where Ciath usually sandslides! White is revealed in the glittering majesty that is the Sparkling Splendor Egg. The light in the cavern hits the snowy white surface and catches it just so that the sparkles show the golden cast of the rather large egg. So Ciath did have some secrets to keep it seems! And the Sparkling Splendor Egg seems bent on outing them as it begins an erratic set of shudders. Unlike others, it doesn't roll, but remains where it is lurching slightly this way and that as the occupant seeks an exit.

From the sands, Impending Doom Egg gives a final shudder and the struggle that the hatchling within has been waging against the prison that has been his home for so many months is won. Muzzle pops out creating fractures down the thick shell widening and shattering as talons pop through, feet first! The protruding limbs and nose are not quite enough, however, and the maw vanishes within and a moment later the egg crumbles leaving the Moonless Night Blue Hatchling sprawled on his back, having used his weight to push against both shell-walls at once. Perhaps not the most graceful exit from his sustaining cage, but effective.

From the sands, *** Moonless Night Bandito Blue ***
Swathed in the colors of the night sky when the moons dare not show their twin faces, darkness reigns over this lithe-limbed dragon. Rich navy cloaks this blue bandit, the color flowing from the crown of his head over his entire bulk, texture hinting at fabric caught in the wind, folding and rippling with the motion of the musculature beneath. His build is neither too lean nor too thick, but that 'just right' middle-ground that gives his form a naturally athletic look. Despite the monochrome inky blue that enfolds the greater part of him, his coloration is hardly monotonous. Across his back spread sinuously shaped shadows that draw patterns of Prussian blue, only a shade lighter than the canvas it is painted upon. These motifs and swirls rise up to drape across the backs of his wings, adding to an overall sense of fluid motion even when he is holding still. The overwhelming dark of this dragon is relieved by a patch of bright cerulean that seems almost out of place, spread across the underside of his neck and rising up to nearly cover his muzzle. A swatch of midnight bands his eyes like a mask, tight circles of cerulean peek out from the darkness that rises up and over headknobs only to spill over down the back of his head. Tendrils of dusty gold crawl across smooth headknobsringing his brow as if he has donned a decorated broad-brimmed hat.

X'lar spots the arrival of the new green and smiles briefly, glancing to B'rin as he tells his wingmate, "Pretty green, hm?" To Lujayn's comments, the Istan bronzerider nods and grins back to her. His attention returns back to the arrival of the blue hatchling. "Shells and shards..." Xie can only say.

From the sands, Could it be that something is wrong with the Moonless Night Bandito Blue Hatchling who lays out on his back and doesn't seem to be making signs of moving? He remains lounging amongst shell shard and goo for several long moments before he abruptly rolls himself over, not heeding the bits of shell that cling to his backside. There are more important things than looks to the inky blue as he sets out on a lazy trek that seems to take him in an imitation of an inexperienced swagger past white-robed candidates, neither nervous nor shy about passing quite close to them as he makes the rounds. Confidence is worn as a mantle, to the point of arrogance that leads him into a little trip that unfurled wings are needed to keep balance and prevent him from plowing nose-first into the hot sand.

From the sands, Paige , still pale-faced, pales even more as more dragons head out to seek partners; what little color the heat brought back to her face abruptly drains as a green approaches, and the girl's wide eyes stare back into whirling ones. Swaying slightly, and looking very much as though she's about to faint, the slim candidate manages, "T - Tiasheth. I - love ya too." Lurch. And then rather abruptly, there goes her last meal out onto the sands.

From the sands, Dekelvai whoops in excitement, loud and clear, as, soon after Ae- A'riste moves off the sands, Jendel does too, now with her brown. With a whistling cheer, he pumps his fist in the arm, attention momentarily pulled from the dragonets and eggs and such with the sheer excitement of seeing a friend and fellow Impress. And then there's - there's Paige, is it? with a green (and her lunch), and J'vran with his blue, and Dekelvai's twisting his head back and forth and around as though expecting all his other companions to start pop-pop-pop disappearing like soap bubbles from the sands.

From the sands, Despite the looks of the Sparkling Splendor Egg, the egg does not simply melt away, much to occupant's frustrations. Muted, hollow-sounding smacks as the egg jerks around on the mound its occupied for so long. Hard the shell has indeed grown. Though not too hard. Fracture lines web their way across white, creating lines of shadow in the cast light. Progress! The shell begins to give, but just as it does, the egg goes still.

"You're gonna stop him chasing?" K'vel queries, before shrugging at the Impressions. "I don't know any of their names. And - a pretty green! Who Impresses rather quickly. "Oh, another green. And a blue - there you go, he's a handsome one." The sparkly egg by Ciath grabs his attention for a moment, but he's more interested in the confident blue trying to find his feet.

From the sands, Moonless Night Bandito Blue Hatchling is in no hurry to find the object of his search but once a public walk past the robed candidates has been completed, he's moving back amongst the shells. Calls from the crowd say "go the other way!" but the blue seems to have his own ideas. Into the shells he goes and into the chaos of shards and cracked shells, ducking, dodging, and moving fleetingly from shell to shell - eyes on the prize: the candidates! He's still trying to sort out which one is for him, but he knows he's out there, so crouching behind one of the eggs, he peeks out from behind to covertly observe the waiting white-robes.

From the sands, Berit manages a tremulous smile as Paige Impresses, but she does not make any sudden movements or gestures that could bring a dragon scurrying her way. She is wary, rightfully so, as she sucks in a calming breath to help her frazzled nerves. Exhaling, she turns her head to survey the passage of another hatchling, only to be surprised by a sudden.. upheaval. Gulp.

If anything might drive Satiet away, it's the sight of someone's regurgitated breakfast on the sizzling sands. Looking about as green as Paige must look, not that /she's/ looking, the slender woman gets to her feet, using N'thei as a convenient object to push off of and makes her way out towards fresh, not so sweaty air. And as far away from the puke as she can get.

From the sands, Nerine gives another fisted cheer is sent up for Jendel, before her eyes catch on the green that has escaped her shell, and she watches with an intense fascination. Eggs explode all over the place. Still her eyes remain on the green. And then Paige becomes sick. "Nerine must turn her attention to her friend now and pats her on the back. Still as the sparkling egg shines, she watches peripherally. "Congratulations, but dear I don't think feeding her the contents of your stomach will work." She pats the girl on the back now helping her right herself.

From the sands, Xhaiden whistles softly as he watches the green go directly for what she was wanting. "Shards and shells. NOw that's a dragon who didn't even have to shop around eh?" ANd then he takes a side-step at the....throwing up part. "yu-uck." Tipping his chin up he pointedly looks away, edges away a little too, not like he's that close, but one can never be too careful.

From the sands, Sparkling Splendor Egg shivers on the hatching sands despite the heat. Perhaps the look of its snowy exterior is so convincing that the occupant inside has actually grown cold! No, more likely, the hatchling is simply aching to be free. For some reason, it has suddenly had pause to question if where it is is truly where it wishes to be, and has decided that out may be the better course! Maybe its just time. Either way, the shivers have grown more intense and the shell begins to flake from the top, shedding gold-glinted white snow caps, shell shards raining down from the narrow muzzle of the Flip of the Setting Sun Gold Hatchling until she's standing in a mere husk of a home, ready to find new adventure in the wide world.

From the sands, *** Flip of the Setting Sun Gold ***
From head to tail this petite queen is kissed with the ruddy hues of the setting sun reflecting off the animate sea. Textures rise and fall across her body, lending her an ever-changing look when in motion. The color seems to rise to peaks of burnished gold and fall back into valleys of the more dominant dusty hue all across her back. Narrow-muzzled and refined of face, large liquid eyes peek out from beneath delicately arched brow ridges, seeming to hold both the innocence of youth and wisdom of the ages all at once. Elongated headknobs sweep back towards delicately curving, antiqued ridges that highlight the serpentine curve of her neck like a lady's golden chain. That smooth length winds down into a compact torso chased with absinthe flashes that catch the eye unawares, only seen from certain angles. Lean, athletic lines trace her form from shoulders to haunches, slender limbs and a lithe treasure of a tail, granting the elegant grace of a dancer. Talons gently curve from broad tips, extending from coin-bright roots in the curving arc of a cutlass.

Phara frowns. "I wouldn't if he really wanted to, I guess, but I can try to talk him out of it." She looks away in disgust as Paige throws up. "That is /not/ the proper way to respond to Impression." She says, completely grossed out.

Viviana wrinkles her nose at Paige's unique way displaying her breakfast choices. "Now that's just not very attractive, if you ask me.." She turns away as well, not quite as green as Satiet. Sighing, she admits. "You know, there is little of the romance of being a rider that is written by the harpers and the scrolls in reality."

From the sands, Moonless Night Bandito Blue uses the shells, the other dragons, even the candidates, to avoid some of the prying eyes, losing himself in the hectic-ness of the hatching sands. A danger, to be sure for those keeping their attention on the hatchlings to try to keep from getting gored. Young and inexperienced though the hatchling may be, he moves with a certain amount of natural ability, though it could hardly be called grace, and really more of an ill-trained swagger. Such elegance in looks doesn't seem to translate into form, or at least not yet, and so it is with a tangling of talons, that he goes rolling forward onto the sands. Not to let such a little thing defeat him, however, he plucks himself back up, not heeding the sand that now dusts his dark form and arrives at long last in front of one lean teen with sapphire eyes. He pulls his head back and up, puffing his chest up and unfurls his wings, posing as impression is made.

From the sands, Watery Tubes Egg splinters into shards to reveal an equally blue occupant, rather on the large side for his color! There is a surprised shrill squeal from across the sands as eyes meet from a distance. One might think the sound from a girl, but then no, it's the falsetto excitement of Jr. Apprentice Harper Amirit, now A'rit as he runs trippingly across the sand to let his ox-like frame tumble down onto his knees in front of the equally bulky blue. "Yes, we're going Aquayeth!"

From the sands, Flip of the Setting Sun Gold Hatchling stands observant a long moment in what once was her home. With no home to turn back to and so much to see, there's no sense in staying here, she seems to decide and begins moving onto the sands, her long tail drags at first, getting shard stuck to it, and its mere moments before this is realized and the tail is eyed. Perhaps by force of mind she's trying to manipulate its actions, and indeed, the tail is drawn up and brought towards her a moment to inspect the damage. There's naught she can do about it for now, so a little ruffle of wings that are suggestive of a sigh is all it takes to get the tail raised up behind her as she turns back to face the white-robed denizens of the sands.

From the sands, Prelude to a Storm Egg lives up to its name, a still shape when all the other eggs around it are rocking and cracking, spilling dragons onto the sands to find their chosens. But this one remains quiet, lurking nearly, as it bides a little bit more time.

From the sands, Paige is about as green-faced as her new lifemate is, but she gradually manages to right herself with Nerine's assistance, managing a shaky grin for her friend. "Guess - not, " she agrees thickly, wiping at her mouth and coughing a little. There's an apologetic look for the little green at her feet; hopefully she didn't get caught in the shower of her partner's lunch.

Used as a prop, N'thei pushes the pad of his thumb hard into the soft spot right between his two eyebrows in a headachey attitude. "Let me know how it turns out," he offers ironically to Lujayn at his side, like there's ever anything but "they all Impressed" for the turn-out. He stands alongside Satiet to throw her slight stature into relief against his large one; all that effort to take over the front bench... and he winds up leaving with the Weyrwoman with the Hatching just scratching the surface.

From the sands, Berit takes a step back as a hatchling comes within close proximity of the candidates, showing her fear as she gasps and covers her mouth with a hand. Doubt fills her sage-green eyes, doubt and fear mingling together as more dragons hatch out of the sand-enshrouded eggs.