At the Fort Weyr Hatching.
RL Date: 3/8/09
IC Date: 2/21/19 --Whispers/mutters re-added. Did not tag candidates/weyrlings. XD
Galleries, Fort Weyr(#745RIJMas$)
he entrance to the sands and galleries alike is little more than an archway and a section of flat stone before it dissolves into the sands proper. Although it's warm here, it's not nearly as hot as the sands themselves are. To the right is a broad pathway leading to the stands, with a set of stairs leading up one side all the way to the upper tiers. Also visible from here is an odd engraving on the wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red Star.
Lined along the right-hand side of the hatching cavern are the galleries, the seats carved from the stone wall and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated spectator's box at the topmost row. There are three separate flights of stairs leading into the galleries, with one near the entrance, another set in the middle, and a flight at the northernmost end.
With cheeks flushed from the what might appear to be the weather, Satiet arrives at the top of the stairs looking a little worse for the exertion, her slender arm reached out to brace herself briefly against a railing before a jostling from behind contorts her features. Whatever cry or sharp rebuke might fly from her parted lips, gets clamped down on, teeth to lips. It takes a second to regain her composure before she's stepping quickly through the crowds towards a cushioned seat where she perches gingerly on the edge.
From the sands, Almost every egg on the sands is quivering, shaking or actively rocking to and fro, as spectators file in and candidates approach. The It's a Forest Out There egg sways the most, the branches of its trees stirred by an unseen breeze. Back and forth, back and forth it goes until the tree trunk seems to topple over, a gaping hole opening where it once stood. A sweet-faced blue peeks out from the ruins and looks around for a moment or two then marches, shell-and-goop-covered, to proudly dig his nose into the midsection of chubby Taylira from Gar, who cries out: "Phineath!" and throws her arms around his neck.
It hasn't taken long for Fayre to arrive in the galleries; the convenience of *between* is surely the reason behind that. The Istan is bundled up against the winter cold out in the bowl, but she does begin to remove a few layers as she searches for a seat. She waves at a few familiar faces before snatching a spot near the front--though she barely fits in it thanks to her bulky layers of clothes.
From the sands, Jantha leads the candidates onto the sands but takes herself smartly off to the side as soon as she arrives, and deposits her hide jacket in an out-of-the-way corner. She turns back towards the eggs just in time to spot the first Impression and usher Taylira and Phineath out to the Bowl.
From the sands, Kiah dashes out onto the sands with the rest of the candidates, she's well within the mass of bodies, still struggling to get her sandals tied on and looking curiously, not only at the eggs and the current impressions, but the galleries and the masses of people there.
Unlike her Weyrwoman, Tiriana manages to clear out some small measure of space around her, mostly by virtue of stretching arms as she starts stripping off her winter gear as soon as the first burst of sands heat hits her face. Taking that time to fold her coat over her arm also allows her the opportunity to scan the seats rapidly filling up; more quickly, then, she settles on one before it can get snatched up, too.
From the sands, Winston's unable to keep from making a minute adjustment to the hang of his robe as he steps onto the sands. Fiddle, flick, set and he's done and making his way out with the rest of a group leaving the barracks. He stops near enough to people he knows enough to talk to should nerves give him the urge to do just that, but right now he's more in the quiet mode.
Idraila filters into the galleries among a small group of Istan weyrlings, led by one of their weyrlingmasters, the unofficial coordinator of the visit. In a clump they pick their way through Fort residents and riders to a section of the galleries at the very front. Several of them have to sit on different rows, but they remain in a rough group and within conversation range. "Better," Idraila murmurs to the greenrider sharing her spot of the firstmost bench, as she shrugs out of her riding gear and lets her Istan fashion sense show. In this heat, it's just like home. She leans forward and crosses her bare arms over the railing in front of her, chin set down to rest on them as she watches the first egg quiver open.
A lot of people will elbow and shove their way toward the good seats. Funnily enough, very few of those people will elbow or shove N'thei, who quite enjoys the luxury of descending the tiers unassaulted. He gives the special seats a dubious glance while he works along the edge of them, then exhales resolutely and ducks between two bars-- not the usual way to take a dignitary's seat, but it suffices. "This better be worth a shave in the middle of the day," he remarks upon plopping down gracelessly next to his poor-little-Weyrwoman. "Passed Tiriana on the way down, making friends," he adds, reaching back to offer a handshake to someone who looks important enough to deserve a handshake. Thus missing the first Impression.
From the sands, Cirse can find a smile for R'uen, as people do, but then looks abruptly up to the ledges before making it the rest of the way to her queen. It's not long that she's stalled them both, though, because her pace quickens as the candidates approach, faster yet as Phineath hatches only to Impress, and then she leans purposefully against her queen's shoulder: go no closer. It's their turn.
From the sands, Darn(ing) Egg sways the harder for the first dragon having hatched, but no cracks appear upon its surface, not even when a irregular tap-tapping jolts it from within. It goes still, then, and when the large egg again begins to shudder it's with gradually amplifying rhythm, until at its peak it brushes against a scribbly fawn-brown egg: brushes, and falls. Still it doesn't crack.
From the sands, Balkaiv breaks away from the crush of Candidates as soon as he can, leading - or perhaps dragging - Sulisah with him. He doesn't even notice the first Impression, being more interested in finding some space where they can move if need be. Kai blows out his breath and sets his jaw, eyes flicking over the eggs as if trying to keep track of every little jounce and wriggle.
From the sands, Phara has just enough time to see Bennath and Ella settled in the galleries before getting down onto the sands. She almost misses the first impression, as fast as it happens, but Jantha's taking care of it. Wiping a hand across her forehead, she hurries through the back of the cavern to stand at the ready. She looks just about as nervous as the candidates, though.
From the sands, Rhodya scoots onto the sands, the mismatched hem of her repaired robe swirling at her knees. She came out with the main body of candidates, but looks flustered anyway, and the sight of the first Impression doesn't help that any. "Already! Oh, this is so bad." Exhaling hugely, she flutters a hand at her chest as if that could speed up the catching of her breath.
From the sands, Rooted Egg shakes just once, but that tiny motion is enough to dislodge the sand piled around its base and send the egg rolling down the little mound. It comes to a stop at the base of the hill, almost befuddled, and its quiver this time is just a little bit more hesitant.
From the sands, Attempting to not look uncomfortable sadly means overcompensating for Hattie, who has a rather blank expression plastered across her face by the time she reaches the Sands. Her last few steps before she stops turn into a little skip that has her skid a little to a halt, but then she forces her hands to her sides and goes still.
From the sands, Sulisah has to triple-step to keep up with Kai's much longer stride, hand thankfully not quite strangling the life out of his - yet. As she spots the tail of the first weyrling pair as they're ushered from the sands she lets out a long breath. "One already. Did you see who?"
From the sands, Suizen makes her way in with the other candidates, and after duties done, stakes out a spot, looking about. "Not so bad.. just go to be keepin' an eye out, and don't forgot to move your feet.." she calls out to Rhodya, before grinning a bit at the tail-end of the first Impressed pair.
From the sands, Other eggs have popped their lids now and the Mysterious Scribblings Egg, relatively still, seems to be gaining more scribblings, lines etching their way across its surface in slow progression. Grains of sand flee the sudden tipping over, dark traceries reaching for the ground suddenly and a whole big piece of the egg falls away, revealing the wobbly shape of a round, broad-shouldered brown. He creels mournfully and swings his head this way and that, then makes a beeline for his chosen partner.
From the sands, With Zaiventh shifting this way and that to try to get the best view as the eggs shudder and start to crack, R'uen will have to content himself with standing a bit away from him, looking a good deal more relaxed. While the bronze is most interested in the eggs, his rider is watching the candidates.
From the sands, Tuned to the stone-shaking hum of the dragons' encouraging of the clutch, the Darn(ing) Egg shudders and shudders again, deeper and deeper with every pulse. Finally it gives way where it had withstood so much, splintering in long, narrow fragments of brown-gold shell over the lighter gold hatchling that staggers free a step or two. She winces, though, and then creels at a high clattering pitch, as though every shard hurts her sensitive paws and the stares and smells are more painful yet.
From the sands,
Morning Over Mists Gold
Small and spindly-legged, this young dragon is the soft, soft,
insubstantial gold of sunrise reflecting off southerly marshes: not dark
but not yet truly light, wavering into paler fog about her sides through
her flanks, only to at last disappear into near-whiteness at her tail. An
elongated muzzle holds side-set eyes with a quiet brightness to them, and
behind the curve of her headknobs, neckridges flow with a smooth contour
like so many expanding ripples. Though she tends to hold her head close to
her body, and keep her wings close too, when unfurled the latter rise long
and narrow from her broad shoulders. Those wings are not only thin but
diaphanous, a sunlit haze between subtly greener spars with only their
trailing edges still brushed in shadow. Shadowy are her talons as well,
set in yielding, sensitive paws.
From the sands, From behind slivered cracks across a loam-colored shell, loam wrests free as first one and then a second limb pushes free from the Rooted Egg's tunnelsnake confining stripes. But with only two holes and two legs visible, it's difficult yet to catch a glimpse of the trapped dragonet. Then the sand-shaking writhing continues, pitching the egg back and forth until those two ivory-taloned feet plant more firmly into the ground and a lithe green rights herself. That's right, a lithe, lovely and earthen green who, with the strength of her short and strong wings has shattered the rest of her shell and made an appearance.
From the sands,
Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green
Loam rises from dainty paws to blend with the sun-dappled, earthy green
that dances along this dragon's lissome frame. Made for prancing, from the
slender curvature of her lengthy neck down her sleek, moss-tipped
neckridges, to each articulate turn of her slim tail, buoyant grace
sketches across her young and untried muscles. Her wings are short and
strong, meant for agile turns and just a little more endurance than speed,
with gold-green sunlight seeming to pool where her wingsails narrow into
her spars. Tinged darker along her trailing edges, her sails, when spread,
appear feathered in their vein patterning and graceful in their short,
fluttering train. Large eyes are set atop a slim muzzle, guileless in
their luminosity and unable to mask any of her frank thoughts. Indeed, for
this green, her rainbowed eyes are the windows into her sweet-natured
soul.
From the sands, Returning, Jantha locates herself next to Phara, and murmurs in a low voice, "V'rel and the rest are in place outside. You head over to the barracks after the first few, right? Don't worry, you're not going to do anything wrong." Her eyes are on the candidates though, as if she doesn't quite believe the same of them.
"Friends. I'm sure," is Satiet at her dryest, even as she tries, very hard, to look more comfortable than she is in the crowding galleries. She doesn't even deign to look around for one of her two erstwhile juniors, a slight shake backwards of her hair and lift of her chin sufficing; Tiriana, does not exist. But the contrasts between Weyrwoman to junior are all the more comical when while Tiriana sheds her clothes, Satiet wraps the fur-lined coat all the more tightly about her frame. It's less the Impressions that brings her out and more the 'putting on a show' part, evidenced by her aside to N'thei, pale eyes taking in that shave of his: "You look better unshaven."
From the sands, Letting that hand hang from the neck of her robe, Rhodya summons up a grin for Sooz. "That's the trouble part," she says. "I just scooted my feet from all the way from the garden, and I'm not sure they want to move any more, much less dodge anything." But her head whips around fast enough when the gold pops out, and she points a rude finger at it. "Look at that!"
From the sands, Rhus Bud Egg shifts left almost toppling over before shifting back to the right, steadying itself. The feathery lines that brush its surface splitting into larger and deeper cracks. And then just as suddenly as the movement started, it stops.
From the sands, Winston's watching those eggs crack and wobble and then hatch even. He spends more time observing them than his fellow candidates although he cannot help but glance at one or two that stands close. When the gold hatches he lets out a whoosh of a breath and now he looks to his fellow candidates. Or at least the female ones. Pondering perhaps which of them might wind up her. "Aren't those two a pair?" he asks of the gold and green because you cannot ignore the pretty ones even if they do not shine and all.
From the sands, The Eternal Sentinel Egg shivers in place, but otherwise doesn't abandon its upright posture, evenly balanced in two long 'arms' of sand. The movement stills and it seems that rest is required for a few moments before the egg twitches again, a crack starting to form up at its peak. Slowly the crack lengthens starting to divide the egg into two distinct parts, a black line tracing through the pretty browns and greens that dapple the shell.
Fayre gives the sands a quick scan as she unwinds a fluffy, light blue scarf from around her neck. "Huh. Already a bunch of broken eggs down there, eh? It's nice to not be keepin' track for once." She cheerfully elbows the young Fortian lad sitting to her right, who has no choice but to smile politely at the chatty weyrwoman.
From the sands, Balkaiv says, "What?" and stares down at Sulisah as if astonished she can speak. A second passes before he remembers; he shakes his head and turns back to the eggs just in time to see the two newest hatchlings. All he has for the babies is a low-voiced, "Shells," though he spares the attention to send a quick look around at the other Candidates.
From the sands, The Reflection Egg, ever calm, patiently awaits its turn; it seems to be anticipating a lull, perhaps, in all the commotion. Once the right moment comes, it twitches only once, twice, no, three times before: crack! The shell splinters down around the hunched form hidden inside, a dusky blue who unhurriedly picks his way out from the remaining shards. Nor is this imperturbable dragonet in any rush to claim his companion, so the chosen candidate instead pushes forward from the others with a cry, hurrying to the blue's side to begin picking small flecks of egg from his new lifemate's hide.
From the sands, Phara smiles tensely over at Jantha and gives her a sharp nod of her head. "Got it. I'll take this next - " She catches up short, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. "I'll take this next batch," she squeaks out. Jantha gets a beady turn of her eye. Oh sure, stick me outside with this lot.
From the sands, Suizen follows Rhodya's pointing, and offers a bit of a grin. "She's a right sight, no doubt, but most of the little ones are.. an' quick. Best hope no-one thinks that finger's tasty...." she teases her fellow Candidate, before nodding at winston.
From the sands, Kiah parts to the side, standing near Rhodya as she watches the candidates and the dragons now. She stumbles on the sand slightly, and glances at those near her. "Wow, they're bigger than I thought they'd be. For someone reason I thought they'd start.. smaller."
From the sands, Hattie takes a step to the right and laces her fingers tightly before her, head tilted in the same direction as she studies the hatchlings with slightly narrowed eyes, as though she's trying to make out just how they spilled from those eggs. A quick breath in makes a squeak of a noise that she's quick to quiet as she forces slow breaths in and out.
From the sands, Sulisah practically bounces in the line, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, isn't she lovely!" Her eyes are on the green though, not the creeling gold. She glances quickly along the line as if checking for where the others are standing just in time to watch a candidate break ranks and the blue Impressing. Her bright "Yay!" is cheerful and definitely heartfelt.
From the sands, Morning Over Mists Gold's creeling quiets into silence, and she picks her way into the area of the sands away from where her egg and her siblings have hatched. The shards in the sands here are long-ago broken into the most minute of fragments, easier on her delicate paws, and she moves past a pointing finger and others' gazes, slowly and steadily. Maybe she's a little shiny: she's still damp with egg, after all. A smaller sound has her tilting her head, as though she could see, or listen, and /know/ where to go.
From the sands, Oh! What a world's out there! The Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green stands there, on the shards of her shell, while her slender neck twists this way and that in obvious awe. Other hatchlings! She stares at her sister just hatched, her parents standing by. And oh, the people too--her head tilts side-to-side in quick, contained motions, taking it all in with a quiver of delicately veined wings.
From the sands, Rhodya, in better spirits, waggles the finger in question. She does tuck it into her palm, though, afterwards. "You ain't alone, Kiah," she assures the other girl. "They look smaller up there," thumb tugs towards the stands, "than they do down here. Hey!" She's just spotted a candidate rushing forward to Impress his blue. "Congratulations!" she calls after, in vain.
From the sands, That long crack that's been working its way down the side of the Eternal Sentinel egg for the last little while suddenly widens, shadows masking the shape of its occupant for a moment or two until the two halves fall away neatly to either side. In their wake, they leave what looks like a pile of buff and ochre-colored sticks sitting in an ungainly heap on a little hillock of sand. After only a moment, bright, interested eyes open and take in the surroundings, and a long, narrow head lifts to swing to and fro in quest of what comes next.
From the sands,
Standing Watch At Sunset Brown
A study in contrasts is this mid-sized brown, his build all odd angles and
long planes on a spindly body that gives him the distinct appearance of a
bundle of sticks. His hide boasts an even coloring with little to dispel
its uniformity other than an undercurrent of ochre that intensifies here
and there. A swathe of this warmer shade sweeps along browridges and under
round, alert eyes only to vanish into the near-drab of his neck and
re-appears again along wing tips like the late rays of sunset. Overlong,
his neck seems endless, its toasted-tipped ridges smaller and less
prominent than average and in places, almost flat, more like little raised
patches of hide than proper ridges. A narrow-muzzled head with a long nose
bears high-set eyes that peer out at the world with uncannily sharp and
interested intelligence. His limbs are the gangling sort, awkward and at
odds with his body except that when he moves, it all starts to come
together in the tip-toed steps of a dancer, though that long, flat-topped
tail is more of a menace than a help.
From the sands, Rhus Bud Egg shudders in place as its occupant makes its last stand in the fight for freedom. A dark talon finally breaks its surface, slicing away the shell to leave Red-Crested Centurion Bronze Hatchling standing amongst the shards.
From the sands,
Red-Crested Centurion Bronze
While his bronze coloring is vivid and eye-catching, his shape and build
are a study in flaws --his jaw too broad, shoulders too muscled, gangly
limbs and knobby joints -- his proportions askew just enough to give a
sense of his body being off-kilter. No blemishes mark this dragon's
lustrous hide, cast in antique metal. Above a sharply tapered muzzle, his
wide set headknobs are brushed with a hint of crimson that intensifies
along the fanfare ridges of his neck. That brilliant tone takes on a tinge
of orange as it reaches towards the tip of his tail and his underside is
muted by a wash of amber. Bright, brushed wingspars hold semi-translucent
sails dotted with softer shades, as if certain in places the shimmer of
the color has been worn away with age. Hidden on the underside of his
wings, the clear scarlet reappears in stunning contrast.
Ego content, perhaps, N'thei still rubs his knuckles along his chin in a show of lingering irritation at the pains he takes to be beautiful. And for what? A bunch of people who hardly notice, evidenced by the oohing and aahing that emanate as various eggs crack and various new-weyrlings cry or shout or whatever. He mutters to Satiet, "Just once,... like to... old-fashioned mauling." His voice low with dark mirth meant to avoid the ears of the surrounding VIPs, but he nods to indicate a few of the more energetic, less attentive candidates on-line below. "At someone else's Weyr, mind."
"Just once, would like to see a good old-fashioned mauling."
From the sands, Cirse spares a glance for their weyrlingmaster at work, the rake's handle turning in her hands, always clockwise. Its teeth scrape against the sands that swallow them, slower and slower. As Peirith's humming deepens, as the queen settles reluctantly down to the sands with an eye for the green, no, both her daughters, her wings stirring their tips against the heated air, Cirse takes a deeper breath. "So far, no blood." She says it like a fact, or a promise.
From the sands, A ripple across the surface of the Silvered Motion Egg is carried over into Fire-Touched Silver Egg, as if the two have just been touched by the same passing gust of wind. Turning on its axis the former seems to wave long tendrils towards its counterpart, except that the sides of the egg are flaking off in tiny bits and pieces, leaving a scattered shower of silvery green flecks on the dun-hued sands. Sudden combustion takes the hoarfrost-touched egg by storm and the shell seems to veritably melt away releasing a tiny, gray-green hatchling onto the sands to skip her way over to /her/ weyrling. On the way by, her tail taps against the Silvered Motion egg, knocking larger pieces free and providing a peep-hole for a brown brother to peek out. The egg tumbles over under the pressure of his paws and falls open, spilling the lanky fellow out onto the sands. A rush of motion later and he's proudly sitting atop a tall lad from Boll, trumpeting his triumph. F'vel announces his name joyously as Saulienth.
From the sands, "Blue," Kai mentions, as though taking notes somewhere. Then as the brown and bronze hatch he adds another, "Shells." His free hand scrubs at his thigh like he's trying to clean it, but his other, still entwined with Sulisah's, remains utterly still. "Remember t' stay out of their way."
From the sands, Another step - it seems Hattie just can't keep still for one reason or another - this time has her back more or less where she was a few minutes ago. Fingers uncurl and stretch once they've been anchored back to her sides and she squeezes her eyes tight shut for a few seconds. When she looks up, she's calm again and her eyes have attained a focus that's so far been lacking from her since she walked onto the Sands.
From the sands, Jantha gathers up another new weyrling pair and escorts them out to the Bowl, where other riders are waiting to see them safely to the Weyrling Barracks. The Weyrlingmaster's place is here for the time being, though, so she's soon back.
From the sands, Sulisah squeezes the hand she holds, nodding up at him for a brief second. "I'll dive behind you if I need to." She's teasing, but there's a little tension in her voice that finally shows some nerves behind that giggly exterior.
From the sands, Winston's eyes turn away from his fellow weyrlings when more eggs hatch and he watches each of them with a smile for the ones who find their match right away. "Wonder how some know and some have to look?" he asks those closest as he another egg hatches and immediately spills out a dragon who knows his rider.
From the sands, Kiah wishes she could hide behind Rhodya or one of the other candiadates, but stands straight and still, looking out at the hatchlings and ready and able to move out of the way quickly if she needs to. She clears her throat and then grins at Rhodya. "At least they're safer up there." And a nervous giggle escapes.
From the sands, Terzo comes out of a tunnel at the back of the cavern.
From the sands, Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green's tiny feet prance in place, pale talons kneading the sand; her excitement is getting to her as she continues to try to watch everything going on, all at once. But it's too much for even her bright-eyed intelligence, and she has to come back to earth and focus, focus in on those white thingies that are all watching her right back. Hello! Trotting closer to the candidates, she warbles a few notes at them, cocks her head just so to listen.
From the sands, Suizen lifts a shoulder, with a bit of a grin. "Same way some folks have to be testin' every klah pot rather than takin' the one that's still steamin'." She takes a quick step back as one of the dragonets move quickly, though no-where near the potter..
From the sands, All those shouts, all that trumpeting and slicing: Morning Over Mists Gold swings her head this way and that, as though that would help, oblivious of her sister's glance. She retracts into herself for a moment, and then another, all of her lids shutting for a few moments, and then it's as though her path becomes clear and she follows it: on some curving path that only she knows, heedless of any who may try to cross it. Past where the weyrlingmaster had left. Past those holding hands. She knows where she is, now.
From the sands, Saulienth's choice draws an interested look from the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown, his long neck extends, eyes fixed on the new-made pair and he croons once, then lets out a bright warble: hey he can do /that/ too. Straightening up, he gives his wings a little flip and streches out wobbly newborn limbs, testing out the strength of each. Finally, his head lifts again and those bright eyes scan the Sands, searching and searching for the one true partner that he needs. 'Over there. That way,' something seems to tell him and he starts off through the eggs and shards and clutchmates in almost a straight line, oddly graceful on those awkwardly spindly legs of his.
From the sands, Red-Crested Centurion Bronze searches the sands, faceted eyes taking in his new surroundings. Studying from where the shell of the Rhus Bud Egg fell around him. Observing. He's slow to move, at first simply craning his neck to see what's too be seen. Yet soon enough he raises to all fours, cautiously proceeding towards those white things.
Fayre succeeds in taking off her blue scarf, but has now moved onto removing her large coat. She's doing her best not to whack those around her as she awkwardly wiggles out of it--only the boy to her right gets hit with her sleeve, and just once. By the time she finishes removing all her winterwear, it'll probably be time to put it back on. All the while, she's intently watching the sands, particularly the one candidate she knows: Suizen.
From the sands, Balkaiv takes one step to the side, closer to one half of the blonde twins, though he still doesn't try to drop Su's hand. "I'll protect you, sure. 'Til your little green comes plowing int' my legs t' get t' you." The spindly brown is on the move and he looks after it, his mouth working silently.
From the sands, The Morning Over Mist Gold's wings flap as though they could keep her from touching the ground, and she leans toward the young woman with the deep brown eyes and unruly hair before going still once again. One moment. Two. If only she could get closer... and then she does with a quick clattering croon, all but staggering into the lifemate who'll surely protect her from the world.
From the sands, The Sweet Syrup Egg does not seem to crack so much as liquefy: the honey golden markings upon the shell dissolve and give way to the struggle of the hatchling within, crumbling away to pepper the sands surrounding. Left in its wake is a sleek green, glistening with sticky hatching fluid, who takes her time in unfolding herself from her coil. As her wings dry, held proudly, she strikes out - the young dragonet squanders no time in making her choice from the gathered white-robed candidates, herding her lifemate away from the rest with an insistent squalling.
The flush of exertion and winter release from her cheeks, a breath escaping to the rafters as Satiet tips her head with its paling cheeks backward. Steadier, her second exhalation drops her chin long enough for those bright blue eyes to cast about, finding Fayre and according the Istan weyrwoman a cordial nod, then drifting past Idraila and the other Istan weyrlings to pause a half-second at and then skip quickly over Tiriana. It's only then that High Reaches Weyrwoman spares a sidelong, crooked smile to her Weyrleader, narrowed lashes casting down with faux demure, "I've heard the Istan dragons have violence running in their blood. Perhaps the next queen that rises there will satisfy your bloodlust. Or," she lifts a slim shoulder and smiles openly at N'thei, "Iovniath can be caught by an Istan bronze-..." Her voice drops, though her smirk deepens.
Satiet whispers "That is more man than Rielsath's mate might have been."
From the sands, Kiah bends down to try and fix her sandal so that it doesn't fall off. She straightens again, watching as each dragon finds its mate and she takes another step to the side to be out of the way, so she doesn't get in the way of all the impressions
From the sands, Rhodya grins back at Kiah, but her head's turned by the sound of a warbling dragonet nearby. She's ready to dodge away, her muscles all tense, but the green who made it doesn't look threatening - for the moment. "Ain't she a doll?" she remarks, chuckling weakly, and all the while keeping a wary watch on that green.
From the sands, Winston laughs at Suizen's words and nods to her. "All pots of klah we are. Some sweeter than the rest I suppose." He grins at the Istan before going back to watching the movement of the hatchlings.
From the sands, Terzo was here the whole time, yes. Raking the sands with his eyes, he watches the progress of the hatchlings with jumpy nervousness not normally exhibited of him. He tries to fend it off, but if any hatchling makes a sudden move he's lept a foot sideways. It was all happening much faster than he had expected... but... what had he expected? He was certainly not accustomed to being so out of his comfort zone as he was now.
From the sands, Peeking out from behind a still unhatched egg, the Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green seems to have found what she's looking for but is waiting for him, the one she has her eye on to figure it out too. If a dragon could smile, she would have the winning grin of a small child playing hide-and-seek, daring the one who is It to come find her, on her face, so do her eyes sparkle and her tail twitch with the fun of this game. Finally she can't take it anymore and bounds forward eagerly in 'here-I-am' fashion and pushes her head lovingly into a tall, scruffy-looking young man's midsection. The lift of her bright blue-green eyes to his hazel seals their Impression.
From the sands, Suizen grins a bit, though it's absent as she scans the crowds on the Sands, both in caution, and in a bit of envy as the number of eggs and candidates start to dwindle, things happening quickly. "An' some are smuggled in hot toddies that the Headwoman'll be boxin' your ears over.." she returns to Winston.
From the sands, "Right civilized," R'uen returns to Cirse with a tip of his head toward the chaos ensuing around them. Of course, he could be refering to the candidates as much as the dragons; head tilts are like that.
From the sands, Cracks race across the gray surface of the Ashes to Ashes Egg, a heaving motion from within sending it crashing into the Hole in the Sleeping Forest Egg in a sudden shared cataclysm. Both hatch in a mess of green and blue wings and claws and creels, the blue trailing a streak of ichor that dries in moments, and in the end he finds his lifemate even faster than his sister.
From the sands, Hattie is almost bowled onto her backside by the force of the hatchling queen who stumbles into her and has to struggle to keep herself righted solely to make sure that when she automatically reaches to wrap her arms around her she actually makes contact. She topples forward a little instead, and, mindless of the temperature of the Sands, kneels to hover protectively over, around, beside the young dragonet. "Elaruth... Elaruth, I'll keep you safe," she promises in a voice that trembles.
From the sands, "You get her, I'll get the blue and the green," Jantha tells Phara, pointing towards the newly-impressed gold. She makes her way across the Sands and rounds up the young blue pair.
From the sands, Kiah grins back at Rhodya as she comments on the green. "Looks like she's found her friend, though. Wow, it does move fast." She shifts off her feet on the sands, reaching up to make sure that the tie hasn't fallen out of her hair again. "Wow, hey Hattie!" A glance at Rhodya. "Hattie on a gold? Wow."
From the sands, Here and there something distracts the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown from his quest and he pauses to investigate the shape of a shard, a footprint left behind by a clutchmate or looks to and fro checking out the passage of others as they seek and find their partners. This distraction doesn't last long though, something is drawing him ever onward in the direction that he needs to go and he charts his course again, neatly side-stepping the fall
From the sands, Winston's got a laugh for Suizen and he even gives her a wink although his attention shifts when the gold finds her lifemate. "Well, shells, that one has good taste," he says quietly with a tinge of regret in his voice for the closest to hear.
From the sands, Perhaps nothing could have convinced Kai to release his hold on Su's hand - nothing, that is, but the sudden arrival of a green to his middle. He oofs and instinctively wraps his arms around the intruder, tenderly smoothing egg-sticky hide. "Ch. Chielyth?" Sands and eggs, Candidates and galleries, all have disappeared for him, leaving nothing but Chielyth behind.
From the sands, Red-Crested Centurion Bronze stalks the group of candidates from a few feet away. Considering each for a short second as he passes them. He stops the, turning to stare towards the group again. He then unfurls his wings, revealing the brilliant color hidden beneath as if the little flap might warn of his presence.
From the sands, Phara darts forward to help candidates turned Weyrlings while Jantha is helping still more. They're everywhere. She turns away from one just fast enough to catch the next, a lithe dance that has her moving steadily until she comes upon the next Impression. This one, she stands still and watches. And then she's darting into motion again, swooping down on Hattie and little Elaruth at Jantha's command. "Congratulations, Hattie," she says in a strangled voice. "Why don't you and Elaruth come this way?"
From the sands, Sulisah grins up at Kai again, but a relatively close croon has her head whipping around to see a dragon Impress nearby as they move off her gaze lands on Hattie and the gold. "Hattie!" Despite her obvious happiness her voice is almost nonexistant as she speaks the girl's name, returning as she follows with "Congratulations!" and a tug on Balkaiv's hand. "Kai. Did you see?" She pauses as her hand is dropped, turns and blinks, the green is right there. "Oh Kai. She's gorgeous." Happy and disappointed at the same time is an odd look.
From the sands, Suizen says, "Congratulations, Hattie!" voice happy for the girl, before offering a slight smile at Winston, before adding. "Not out of the game yet, Winston, y'know.."
N'thei's disgust is brief but unchecked; "Ista." In a word-- soft, sorry, sub-par. He needs not utter his thoughts to make them plain. That his attention happens to have landed on Fayre during this exchange is surely coincidental, for he does not follow Satiet's lead in nodding to the queenrider. A flicker of half-hearted recognition and nothing more.
From the sands, Rhodya sees the same thing Kiah does, and turns to stare. After a moment's astonishment, she sends her fellow candidate the widest grin - and shuttles off to the side. Not towards Hattie: towards /Winston/. "Hattie!" she exclaims, though of course, he has noticed by now. Grinning broadly at him, she gets on tip toe to murmur, "You are so screwed," into his ear. She pats him on the chest and dances back, all aflutter with enthusiasm. This Hatching thing is kinda fun when no one gets mauled. And she hasn't even /noticed/ Kai's green yet.
From the sands, "Let's hope it," Cirse breaks off from her little space in the middle and yet away from it all, swallowing as Peirith's hum shifts a half-step upward, ululating, receding only when the blue Impresses. She tries for humor, craning over the top of her rake to see with her own eyes instead of the queen's, "Still no blood? And, R'uen, did you see. Look at them."
From the sands, With the blue and green escorted to the care of her colleagues, Jantha returns to another young man and his green. "Congratulations," she tells him. "What's her name, and what do we call you now? If you come with me, you can take her over to the barracks and get her some food."
From the sands, After mapping a nearly straight course through eggs and other dragonets alike, the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown toe-dances over to a tall, dark-haired young woman with interesting feet. These he regards for a long moment, before looking up and into her face intently, as if waiting for her to wake up from a dream and see him for all that he really is.
Fayre frees her arm from the sleeve of her sweater--she's moved onto that layer now--just in time to return Satiet's nod with a cheerful wave and smile. Even N'thei gets a happy-enough nod despite that not-so-nice tone in his voice. Perhaps the joyful hustle and bustle of the hatching is getting to her...or maybe it's just too loud to overhear the Weyrleaders' conversation.
From the sands, Winston finds his grin again for Suizen and gives her a nod. "Of course. Not someone like me," he tells her, but then there's Rhodya and to her he just winks. "Like I wasn't before? Let's just see what you get shall we, Rhodya, sweet? Oh, did you see Kai?" He did see him, but was distracted and all. But there he goes pointing to Kai and his green.
From the sands, Terzo gets a bit preoccupied in his curiousity as that one, Hattie, impresses to the gold. So when he turns back around to see the Bronze flare his wings he makes a strangled noise and leaps backwards. He recovers quickly, however, muttering under his breath. He moves a bit closer in to the other candidates. He certainly wasn't going to get himself in the way of a hungry and strangely drawn dragon.
From the sands, B'kaiv, still staring at Chielyth as if trying to memorize her, rouses long enough to tip a dazed smile at Sulisah before focusing on the Weyrlingmaster. "Kai. I'm Kai. She's Chielyth. I found her." Despite that the green was the one doing all the work.
From the sands, At all that renewed shouting and staring and that strangled voice, Elaruth hides her head in Hattie's robe, in Hattie herself, as though she could burrow herself all the way in and out to the other side.
From the sands, A sharp crackling of shell, and a growing lattice of fissures appearing throughout the red and oranges of the Up in Flame Egg, heralds the arrival of a spindly, scrawny blue dragonet. He vigorously pushes away from the flame-licked shards, shaking out cobalt-speckled wings and stretching out his long, thin neck. Scampering off, he noses curiously, eagerly around the candidates in search for his ideal match. Impression is made: I'zach cries out in delight, "Oh, sure, Toijath! You and me, right?"
From the sands, The Red-Crested Centurion Bronze suddenly darts towards the line of candidates, launching the attack hes been planning since he finally broke free of his shell. The final assault is something less violent than might perhaps have been expected as the bronze settles himself just as suddenly in front of a tall, dark skinned young man, giving him a hard nudge at the knees with his muzzle.
From the sands, Hattie just about manages to detangle herself from Elaruth and look up at Phara with an utterly bewildered look on her face. "Yes, I... We will, thank you," she stammers as she moves to stand, looking down at her new lifemate to make sure she's in a ready enough state to follow. She kneels immediately after and gently tugs her robe away from the dragonet whilst running a hand smoothly over one flank. It's more difficult to move away this time, but she does and stands once more, aiming to head in the right direction.
From the sands, As long as she's still being touched, touched by her Hattie, Elaruth goes along with this. Literally.
From the sands, "I'm looking, I'm looking," R'uen attempts to reassure his Weyrwoman. And he hasn't been without a broad smile when each dragon chooses his or her new lifemate. "They're pretty quick, too. That probably helps. Less time to get frustrated and violent." He raises a brow at Cirse, what does she think?
From the sands, Rhodya didn't see Kai. She didn't even see the brown dragonet hovering at her feet. Well, she's noticed him /now/, of course. Now that he's in her head. She kneels down to stare at him, putting a hand under his chin and tipping his face up to make sure he's real. Plenty real. "Oh my gosh, baby. Oh my /gosh/." She plants a hand on his shoulder to help herself up, and heaves herself to her feet. A grin spreads widely across her face as she looks down at her lifemate. "Thanks, Gedroth." She looks up, trying to find the nearest Weyrlingmaster or assistant. "C'mon now, let's get."
From the sands, Sulisah just watches as Kai leaves, slow to call out to the other impressions that happen just after his. As shock fades a little she goes back to watching the dragons left and the other candidates, slowly sidling closer to the others near her and whispering a quick, "Good luck."
From the sands, Gedroth looks back up at Rhodya as she tilts his chin so and nudges his nose lightly against her cheek. No arguments from him about getting where they need to go, he turns with a bright-eyed look, spots other dragonets heading off and trots energetically after.
From the sands, Kiah moves away from Rhodya as she impresses and edges over toward Suizen, backing up again. "Well, at least they go away when they're paired off," she says softly, leaning up on her tiptoes to look around at the rest of the sands.
From the sands, There was plenty he might have said, jokes just ready to spring forth from his lips, but they all stop short. Instead W'ton stares at the rushing bronze just as feels the first touch of someone else in his mind. His mouth splits into a wide grin as he leans down to press his hand on the head that tried to bowl him over. "Easy there, Dasarth. Let's not cause an accident and all."
From the sands, Standing close together, the twins Yamarados and Tameatt watch as the nearby Climb the Sky Egg starts to twitch and kind of bounce in place. Stretching upwards the top suddenly blows off of it and the whole egg falls over, spilling a long, lean green with rusty undertones to her hide out onto the Sands. Tameatt is instantly transfixed, taking a half-step forward, mouth hanging half-open. In moments, impression is made with T'matt's happy exclamation of Yliamath's name. Left behind, Yamarados looks bereft for a moment and shifts closer to some of the other remaining candidates. A few feet away the Walking Trees Egg is inching its way across the sand, like it's occupant is trying to walk still unhatched. The little cluster of candidates has to step out of the way as the egg comes to rest in their midst. A moment later a crack opens in its side and a pale brown head breaks through, the hatchling's eyes fixing on the closest of the white-robed young people. Impression is made before the dragon has even stepped out of the remains of his egg.
From the sands, "Chielyth. That's nice." Jantha takes the green pair to the exit, but no sooner has she returned than there are I'zach and Toijath to gather up, and after them, Rhodya and her brown. She makes her way over to them. "Well done, Rhodya - he's a good looking brown. Come on, let's get you both out of here and settled in the barracks."
From the sands, Suizen offers a quick smile at Sulisah, as she sidles over. "You too, Sulisah. Doin' alright?" she adds, before turning to watch the littlest general make his stand, blinking a bit when she realizes that the stand is at Win... W'ton, rather. There's a hoot of delight at the Impression, and a second as she realizes that Rhodya's been snagged as well. "Congratulations, you tw.. you four!" More excitment at those two Impressions is shown than at the rest of the impressions.
From the sands, "Ain't he just?" Rhodya beams at Jantha. And then notices her dragon's getting away from her. She trots after him, laughing, and stretches a hand down to his head so he can't slip away again.
From the sands, Sulisah calls out brightly again, "Winston!" She even risks a quick round of applause, though stops as soon as she remembers it's one of the things they were told not to do. She does hiss a quick, "Congratulations." to him before turning back to the eggs and hatchlings.
From the sands, There's only two eggs left intact and the Faded Trackmarks Egg looks like it'll be the next to go, swinging wildly from side to side. Finally with a loud popping sound the egg simply cracks right around the middle and bits of shell fly outward as a burly, determined bronze makes his way forth to meet his new partner. Last to hatch, the First Temptation Egg drops its occupant like a piece of fruit falling from a tree branch. Plop. And it's apt maybe, because this plump, round little green looks almost like an apple herself as she rolls free of her egg. Bouncing to her feet she croons perkily and charges into that cluster of remaining candidates to shove herself into Yamadros' legs, making him Y'dros as he calls out "Ollienth!"
From the sands, Terzo is somewhere back amidst the others. It's safe back here after all. Especially when there are wiggling eggs coming towards the candidates. That was really curious, indeed. His head turns at the congradulations again to watch Winston with the brightly colored bronze. He just shakes his head, remembering their last conversation. But Rhodya had also impressed and she'd seemed competant at least.
From the sands, "Not too violent," Cirse says after another deep breath, as though that would make it so, even as she continues to watch the new pairs making their way off the sands. The rake creaks with her weight, and she straightens up hastily. "And now it's... done. I think it's done. Do you think? I don't see any shells left," though she's up on her toes, trying to get a look past Zaiventh's side.
From the sands, W'ton's not unaware of being congratulated and all, but he's got no ready charm just right now to offer to the lovely ladies so pleased for him. There's Dasarth there who needs his attention and he'll have to apologize later and all. Jantha's words get through at least and he grins at the weyrlingmaster with a wink. "W'ton," he tells his with a bit of his charm back. "And Dasarth." Then since he's got somewhere to be he heads for there with his new bronze.
From the sands, Only shards and footprints remain on the sands in the aftermatch of the hatching to mark where Peirith and Zaiventh's clutch once stood. Now it's weyrlings and dragonets instead and whatever the future holds in store for them. Peirith may well insist on the sands being cleaned up, but for now, there's a collective intaking of breath and then the crowd begins to disperse off to the caverns to feast, with much chatter about what colors hatched and who impressed to what and who was right about it and who made a tidy betting profit off of the whole affair. The Weyrleaders linger for a moment or two with the candidates left standing, thanking them for their participation and issuing the invitation to stay to feast, or even remain at the Weyr should they wish it and have no other obligations to return to.
From the sands, Dasarth meanders over to the cavern's entrance.
From the sands, Jantha follows the last hatchling off the Sands, without so much as a glance for the unimpressed candidates.
From the sands, Sulisah does her best to not look disappointed as the hatching ends, and she almost manages. There's a slight longing look sent in the direction of teh barracks, and eventually she turns and smiles at the candidate next to her. "Least we get to have a drink." With a quick curtsey to the clutchparents she lingers a moment longer, then turns to go and get changed.
From the sands, Suizen looks away from Rhodya and W'ton's exit, and then lets out a deep breath as everyone is gone - at least of the dragons and eggs and new weyrlings. A shake of the head is given, then a bit of a crooked grin. "A drink's soundin' rather nice about now... Last one to the Party's a wet wherry?" she offers, before heading off to change as well.
From the sands, Kiah turns to smile at Sulisah, following her out. "I never drank too much. I think I'll go make some pies."
IC Date: 2/21/19 --Whispers/mutters re-added. Did not tag candidates/weyrlings. XD
Galleries, Fort Weyr(#745RIJMas$)
he entrance to the sands and galleries alike is little more than an archway and a section of flat stone before it dissolves into the sands proper. Although it's warm here, it's not nearly as hot as the sands themselves are. To the right is a broad pathway leading to the stands, with a set of stairs leading up one side all the way to the upper tiers. Also visible from here is an odd engraving on the wall -- an etching that details the rotation of the Red Star.
Lined along the right-hand side of the hatching cavern are the galleries, the seats carved from the stone wall and stacked backward to allow observers the best view possible of the golden sands. Those at the bottom are protected from wayward dragonets by a railing, while dignitaries from outside the Weyr -- Lord Holders, other Weyrleaders, Craftmasters and their ilk -- have a specially designated spectator's box at the topmost row. There are three separate flights of stairs leading into the galleries, with one near the entrance, another set in the middle, and a flight at the northernmost end.
With cheeks flushed from the what might appear to be the weather, Satiet arrives at the top of the stairs looking a little worse for the exertion, her slender arm reached out to brace herself briefly against a railing before a jostling from behind contorts her features. Whatever cry or sharp rebuke might fly from her parted lips, gets clamped down on, teeth to lips. It takes a second to regain her composure before she's stepping quickly through the crowds towards a cushioned seat where she perches gingerly on the edge.
From the sands, Almost every egg on the sands is quivering, shaking or actively rocking to and fro, as spectators file in and candidates approach. The It's a Forest Out There egg sways the most, the branches of its trees stirred by an unseen breeze. Back and forth, back and forth it goes until the tree trunk seems to topple over, a gaping hole opening where it once stood. A sweet-faced blue peeks out from the ruins and looks around for a moment or two then marches, shell-and-goop-covered, to proudly dig his nose into the midsection of chubby Taylira from Gar, who cries out: "Phineath!" and throws her arms around his neck.
It hasn't taken long for Fayre to arrive in the galleries; the convenience of *between* is surely the reason behind that. The Istan is bundled up against the winter cold out in the bowl, but she does begin to remove a few layers as she searches for a seat. She waves at a few familiar faces before snatching a spot near the front--though she barely fits in it thanks to her bulky layers of clothes.
From the sands, Jantha leads the candidates onto the sands but takes herself smartly off to the side as soon as she arrives, and deposits her hide jacket in an out-of-the-way corner. She turns back towards the eggs just in time to spot the first Impression and usher Taylira and Phineath out to the Bowl.
From the sands, Kiah dashes out onto the sands with the rest of the candidates, she's well within the mass of bodies, still struggling to get her sandals tied on and looking curiously, not only at the eggs and the current impressions, but the galleries and the masses of people there.
Unlike her Weyrwoman, Tiriana manages to clear out some small measure of space around her, mostly by virtue of stretching arms as she starts stripping off her winter gear as soon as the first burst of sands heat hits her face. Taking that time to fold her coat over her arm also allows her the opportunity to scan the seats rapidly filling up; more quickly, then, she settles on one before it can get snatched up, too.
From the sands, Winston's unable to keep from making a minute adjustment to the hang of his robe as he steps onto the sands. Fiddle, flick, set and he's done and making his way out with the rest of a group leaving the barracks. He stops near enough to people he knows enough to talk to should nerves give him the urge to do just that, but right now he's more in the quiet mode.
Idraila filters into the galleries among a small group of Istan weyrlings, led by one of their weyrlingmasters, the unofficial coordinator of the visit. In a clump they pick their way through Fort residents and riders to a section of the galleries at the very front. Several of them have to sit on different rows, but they remain in a rough group and within conversation range. "Better," Idraila murmurs to the greenrider sharing her spot of the firstmost bench, as she shrugs out of her riding gear and lets her Istan fashion sense show. In this heat, it's just like home. She leans forward and crosses her bare arms over the railing in front of her, chin set down to rest on them as she watches the first egg quiver open.
A lot of people will elbow and shove their way toward the good seats. Funnily enough, very few of those people will elbow or shove N'thei, who quite enjoys the luxury of descending the tiers unassaulted. He gives the special seats a dubious glance while he works along the edge of them, then exhales resolutely and ducks between two bars-- not the usual way to take a dignitary's seat, but it suffices. "This better be worth a shave in the middle of the day," he remarks upon plopping down gracelessly next to his poor-little-Weyrwoman. "Passed Tiriana on the way down, making friends," he adds, reaching back to offer a handshake to someone who looks important enough to deserve a handshake. Thus missing the first Impression.
From the sands, Cirse can find a smile for R'uen, as people do, but then looks abruptly up to the ledges before making it the rest of the way to her queen. It's not long that she's stalled them both, though, because her pace quickens as the candidates approach, faster yet as Phineath hatches only to Impress, and then she leans purposefully against her queen's shoulder: go no closer. It's their turn.
From the sands, Darn(ing) Egg sways the harder for the first dragon having hatched, but no cracks appear upon its surface, not even when a irregular tap-tapping jolts it from within. It goes still, then, and when the large egg again begins to shudder it's with gradually amplifying rhythm, until at its peak it brushes against a scribbly fawn-brown egg: brushes, and falls. Still it doesn't crack.
From the sands, Balkaiv breaks away from the crush of Candidates as soon as he can, leading - or perhaps dragging - Sulisah with him. He doesn't even notice the first Impression, being more interested in finding some space where they can move if need be. Kai blows out his breath and sets his jaw, eyes flicking over the eggs as if trying to keep track of every little jounce and wriggle.
From the sands, Phara has just enough time to see Bennath and Ella settled in the galleries before getting down onto the sands. She almost misses the first impression, as fast as it happens, but Jantha's taking care of it. Wiping a hand across her forehead, she hurries through the back of the cavern to stand at the ready. She looks just about as nervous as the candidates, though.
From the sands, Rhodya scoots onto the sands, the mismatched hem of her repaired robe swirling at her knees. She came out with the main body of candidates, but looks flustered anyway, and the sight of the first Impression doesn't help that any. "Already! Oh, this is so bad." Exhaling hugely, she flutters a hand at her chest as if that could speed up the catching of her breath.
From the sands, Rooted Egg shakes just once, but that tiny motion is enough to dislodge the sand piled around its base and send the egg rolling down the little mound. It comes to a stop at the base of the hill, almost befuddled, and its quiver this time is just a little bit more hesitant.
From the sands, Attempting to not look uncomfortable sadly means overcompensating for Hattie, who has a rather blank expression plastered across her face by the time she reaches the Sands. Her last few steps before she stops turn into a little skip that has her skid a little to a halt, but then she forces her hands to her sides and goes still.
From the sands, Sulisah has to triple-step to keep up with Kai's much longer stride, hand thankfully not quite strangling the life out of his - yet. As she spots the tail of the first weyrling pair as they're ushered from the sands she lets out a long breath. "One already. Did you see who?"
From the sands, Suizen makes her way in with the other candidates, and after duties done, stakes out a spot, looking about. "Not so bad.. just go to be keepin' an eye out, and don't forgot to move your feet.." she calls out to Rhodya, before grinning a bit at the tail-end of the first Impressed pair.
From the sands, Other eggs have popped their lids now and the Mysterious Scribblings Egg, relatively still, seems to be gaining more scribblings, lines etching their way across its surface in slow progression. Grains of sand flee the sudden tipping over, dark traceries reaching for the ground suddenly and a whole big piece of the egg falls away, revealing the wobbly shape of a round, broad-shouldered brown. He creels mournfully and swings his head this way and that, then makes a beeline for his chosen partner.
From the sands, With Zaiventh shifting this way and that to try to get the best view as the eggs shudder and start to crack, R'uen will have to content himself with standing a bit away from him, looking a good deal more relaxed. While the bronze is most interested in the eggs, his rider is watching the candidates.
From the sands, Tuned to the stone-shaking hum of the dragons' encouraging of the clutch, the Darn(ing) Egg shudders and shudders again, deeper and deeper with every pulse. Finally it gives way where it had withstood so much, splintering in long, narrow fragments of brown-gold shell over the lighter gold hatchling that staggers free a step or two. She winces, though, and then creels at a high clattering pitch, as though every shard hurts her sensitive paws and the stares and smells are more painful yet.
From the sands,
Morning Over Mists Gold
Small and spindly-legged, this young dragon is the soft, soft,
insubstantial gold of sunrise reflecting off southerly marshes: not dark
but not yet truly light, wavering into paler fog about her sides through
her flanks, only to at last disappear into near-whiteness at her tail. An
elongated muzzle holds side-set eyes with a quiet brightness to them, and
behind the curve of her headknobs, neckridges flow with a smooth contour
like so many expanding ripples. Though she tends to hold her head close to
her body, and keep her wings close too, when unfurled the latter rise long
and narrow from her broad shoulders. Those wings are not only thin but
diaphanous, a sunlit haze between subtly greener spars with only their
trailing edges still brushed in shadow. Shadowy are her talons as well,
set in yielding, sensitive paws.
From the sands, From behind slivered cracks across a loam-colored shell, loam wrests free as first one and then a second limb pushes free from the Rooted Egg's tunnelsnake confining stripes. But with only two holes and two legs visible, it's difficult yet to catch a glimpse of the trapped dragonet. Then the sand-shaking writhing continues, pitching the egg back and forth until those two ivory-taloned feet plant more firmly into the ground and a lithe green rights herself. That's right, a lithe, lovely and earthen green who, with the strength of her short and strong wings has shattered the rest of her shell and made an appearance.
From the sands,
Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green
Loam rises from dainty paws to blend with the sun-dappled, earthy green
that dances along this dragon's lissome frame. Made for prancing, from the
slender curvature of her lengthy neck down her sleek, moss-tipped
neckridges, to each articulate turn of her slim tail, buoyant grace
sketches across her young and untried muscles. Her wings are short and
strong, meant for agile turns and just a little more endurance than speed,
with gold-green sunlight seeming to pool where her wingsails narrow into
her spars. Tinged darker along her trailing edges, her sails, when spread,
appear feathered in their vein patterning and graceful in their short,
fluttering train. Large eyes are set atop a slim muzzle, guileless in
their luminosity and unable to mask any of her frank thoughts. Indeed, for
this green, her rainbowed eyes are the windows into her sweet-natured
soul.
From the sands, Returning, Jantha locates herself next to Phara, and murmurs in a low voice, "V'rel and the rest are in place outside. You head over to the barracks after the first few, right? Don't worry, you're not going to do anything wrong." Her eyes are on the candidates though, as if she doesn't quite believe the same of them.
"Friends. I'm sure," is Satiet at her dryest, even as she tries, very hard, to look more comfortable than she is in the crowding galleries. She doesn't even deign to look around for one of her two erstwhile juniors, a slight shake backwards of her hair and lift of her chin sufficing; Tiriana, does not exist. But the contrasts between Weyrwoman to junior are all the more comical when while Tiriana sheds her clothes, Satiet wraps the fur-lined coat all the more tightly about her frame. It's less the Impressions that brings her out and more the 'putting on a show' part, evidenced by her aside to N'thei, pale eyes taking in that shave of his: "You look better unshaven."
From the sands, Letting that hand hang from the neck of her robe, Rhodya summons up a grin for Sooz. "That's the trouble part," she says. "I just scooted my feet from all the way from the garden, and I'm not sure they want to move any more, much less dodge anything." But her head whips around fast enough when the gold pops out, and she points a rude finger at it. "Look at that!"
From the sands, Rhus Bud Egg shifts left almost toppling over before shifting back to the right, steadying itself. The feathery lines that brush its surface splitting into larger and deeper cracks. And then just as suddenly as the movement started, it stops.
From the sands, Winston's watching those eggs crack and wobble and then hatch even. He spends more time observing them than his fellow candidates although he cannot help but glance at one or two that stands close. When the gold hatches he lets out a whoosh of a breath and now he looks to his fellow candidates. Or at least the female ones. Pondering perhaps which of them might wind up her. "Aren't those two a pair?" he asks of the gold and green because you cannot ignore the pretty ones even if they do not shine and all.
From the sands, The Eternal Sentinel Egg shivers in place, but otherwise doesn't abandon its upright posture, evenly balanced in two long 'arms' of sand. The movement stills and it seems that rest is required for a few moments before the egg twitches again, a crack starting to form up at its peak. Slowly the crack lengthens starting to divide the egg into two distinct parts, a black line tracing through the pretty browns and greens that dapple the shell.
Fayre gives the sands a quick scan as she unwinds a fluffy, light blue scarf from around her neck. "Huh. Already a bunch of broken eggs down there, eh? It's nice to not be keepin' track for once." She cheerfully elbows the young Fortian lad sitting to her right, who has no choice but to smile politely at the chatty weyrwoman.
From the sands, Balkaiv says, "What?" and stares down at Sulisah as if astonished she can speak. A second passes before he remembers; he shakes his head and turns back to the eggs just in time to see the two newest hatchlings. All he has for the babies is a low-voiced, "Shells," though he spares the attention to send a quick look around at the other Candidates.
From the sands, The Reflection Egg, ever calm, patiently awaits its turn; it seems to be anticipating a lull, perhaps, in all the commotion. Once the right moment comes, it twitches only once, twice, no, three times before: crack! The shell splinters down around the hunched form hidden inside, a dusky blue who unhurriedly picks his way out from the remaining shards. Nor is this imperturbable dragonet in any rush to claim his companion, so the chosen candidate instead pushes forward from the others with a cry, hurrying to the blue's side to begin picking small flecks of egg from his new lifemate's hide.
From the sands, Phara smiles tensely over at Jantha and gives her a sharp nod of her head. "Got it. I'll take this next - " She catches up short, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. "I'll take this next batch," she squeaks out. Jantha gets a beady turn of her eye. Oh sure, stick me outside with this lot.
From the sands, Suizen follows Rhodya's pointing, and offers a bit of a grin. "She's a right sight, no doubt, but most of the little ones are.. an' quick. Best hope no-one thinks that finger's tasty...." she teases her fellow Candidate, before nodding at winston.
From the sands, Kiah parts to the side, standing near Rhodya as she watches the candidates and the dragons now. She stumbles on the sand slightly, and glances at those near her. "Wow, they're bigger than I thought they'd be. For someone reason I thought they'd start.. smaller."
From the sands, Hattie takes a step to the right and laces her fingers tightly before her, head tilted in the same direction as she studies the hatchlings with slightly narrowed eyes, as though she's trying to make out just how they spilled from those eggs. A quick breath in makes a squeak of a noise that she's quick to quiet as she forces slow breaths in and out.
From the sands, Sulisah practically bounces in the line, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, isn't she lovely!" Her eyes are on the green though, not the creeling gold. She glances quickly along the line as if checking for where the others are standing just in time to watch a candidate break ranks and the blue Impressing. Her bright "Yay!" is cheerful and definitely heartfelt.
From the sands, Morning Over Mists Gold's creeling quiets into silence, and she picks her way into the area of the sands away from where her egg and her siblings have hatched. The shards in the sands here are long-ago broken into the most minute of fragments, easier on her delicate paws, and she moves past a pointing finger and others' gazes, slowly and steadily. Maybe she's a little shiny: she's still damp with egg, after all. A smaller sound has her tilting her head, as though she could see, or listen, and /know/ where to go.
From the sands, Oh! What a world's out there! The Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green stands there, on the shards of her shell, while her slender neck twists this way and that in obvious awe. Other hatchlings! She stares at her sister just hatched, her parents standing by. And oh, the people too--her head tilts side-to-side in quick, contained motions, taking it all in with a quiver of delicately veined wings.
From the sands, Rhodya, in better spirits, waggles the finger in question. She does tuck it into her palm, though, afterwards. "You ain't alone, Kiah," she assures the other girl. "They look smaller up there," thumb tugs towards the stands, "than they do down here. Hey!" She's just spotted a candidate rushing forward to Impress his blue. "Congratulations!" she calls after, in vain.
From the sands, That long crack that's been working its way down the side of the Eternal Sentinel egg for the last little while suddenly widens, shadows masking the shape of its occupant for a moment or two until the two halves fall away neatly to either side. In their wake, they leave what looks like a pile of buff and ochre-colored sticks sitting in an ungainly heap on a little hillock of sand. After only a moment, bright, interested eyes open and take in the surroundings, and a long, narrow head lifts to swing to and fro in quest of what comes next.
From the sands,
Standing Watch At Sunset Brown
A study in contrasts is this mid-sized brown, his build all odd angles and
long planes on a spindly body that gives him the distinct appearance of a
bundle of sticks. His hide boasts an even coloring with little to dispel
its uniformity other than an undercurrent of ochre that intensifies here
and there. A swathe of this warmer shade sweeps along browridges and under
round, alert eyes only to vanish into the near-drab of his neck and
re-appears again along wing tips like the late rays of sunset. Overlong,
his neck seems endless, its toasted-tipped ridges smaller and less
prominent than average and in places, almost flat, more like little raised
patches of hide than proper ridges. A narrow-muzzled head with a long nose
bears high-set eyes that peer out at the world with uncannily sharp and
interested intelligence. His limbs are the gangling sort, awkward and at
odds with his body except that when he moves, it all starts to come
together in the tip-toed steps of a dancer, though that long, flat-topped
tail is more of a menace than a help.
From the sands, Rhus Bud Egg shudders in place as its occupant makes its last stand in the fight for freedom. A dark talon finally breaks its surface, slicing away the shell to leave Red-Crested Centurion Bronze Hatchling standing amongst the shards.
From the sands,
Red-Crested Centurion Bronze
While his bronze coloring is vivid and eye-catching, his shape and build
are a study in flaws --his jaw too broad, shoulders too muscled, gangly
limbs and knobby joints -- his proportions askew just enough to give a
sense of his body being off-kilter. No blemishes mark this dragon's
lustrous hide, cast in antique metal. Above a sharply tapered muzzle, his
wide set headknobs are brushed with a hint of crimson that intensifies
along the fanfare ridges of his neck. That brilliant tone takes on a tinge
of orange as it reaches towards the tip of his tail and his underside is
muted by a wash of amber. Bright, brushed wingspars hold semi-translucent
sails dotted with softer shades, as if certain in places the shimmer of
the color has been worn away with age. Hidden on the underside of his
wings, the clear scarlet reappears in stunning contrast.
Ego content, perhaps, N'thei still rubs his knuckles along his chin in a show of lingering irritation at the pains he takes to be beautiful. And for what? A bunch of people who hardly notice, evidenced by the oohing and aahing that emanate as various eggs crack and various new-weyrlings cry or shout or whatever. He mutters to Satiet, "Just once,... like to... old-fashioned mauling." His voice low with dark mirth meant to avoid the ears of the surrounding VIPs, but he nods to indicate a few of the more energetic, less attentive candidates on-line below. "At someone else's Weyr, mind."
"Just once, would like to see a good old-fashioned mauling."
From the sands, Cirse spares a glance for their weyrlingmaster at work, the rake's handle turning in her hands, always clockwise. Its teeth scrape against the sands that swallow them, slower and slower. As Peirith's humming deepens, as the queen settles reluctantly down to the sands with an eye for the green, no, both her daughters, her wings stirring their tips against the heated air, Cirse takes a deeper breath. "So far, no blood." She says it like a fact, or a promise.
From the sands, A ripple across the surface of the Silvered Motion Egg is carried over into Fire-Touched Silver Egg, as if the two have just been touched by the same passing gust of wind. Turning on its axis the former seems to wave long tendrils towards its counterpart, except that the sides of the egg are flaking off in tiny bits and pieces, leaving a scattered shower of silvery green flecks on the dun-hued sands. Sudden combustion takes the hoarfrost-touched egg by storm and the shell seems to veritably melt away releasing a tiny, gray-green hatchling onto the sands to skip her way over to /her/ weyrling. On the way by, her tail taps against the Silvered Motion egg, knocking larger pieces free and providing a peep-hole for a brown brother to peek out. The egg tumbles over under the pressure of his paws and falls open, spilling the lanky fellow out onto the sands. A rush of motion later and he's proudly sitting atop a tall lad from Boll, trumpeting his triumph. F'vel announces his name joyously as Saulienth.
From the sands, "Blue," Kai mentions, as though taking notes somewhere. Then as the brown and bronze hatch he adds another, "Shells." His free hand scrubs at his thigh like he's trying to clean it, but his other, still entwined with Sulisah's, remains utterly still. "Remember t' stay out of their way."
From the sands, Another step - it seems Hattie just can't keep still for one reason or another - this time has her back more or less where she was a few minutes ago. Fingers uncurl and stretch once they've been anchored back to her sides and she squeezes her eyes tight shut for a few seconds. When she looks up, she's calm again and her eyes have attained a focus that's so far been lacking from her since she walked onto the Sands.
From the sands, Jantha gathers up another new weyrling pair and escorts them out to the Bowl, where other riders are waiting to see them safely to the Weyrling Barracks. The Weyrlingmaster's place is here for the time being, though, so she's soon back.
From the sands, Sulisah squeezes the hand she holds, nodding up at him for a brief second. "I'll dive behind you if I need to." She's teasing, but there's a little tension in her voice that finally shows some nerves behind that giggly exterior.
From the sands, Winston's eyes turn away from his fellow weyrlings when more eggs hatch and he watches each of them with a smile for the ones who find their match right away. "Wonder how some know and some have to look?" he asks those closest as he another egg hatches and immediately spills out a dragon who knows his rider.
From the sands, Kiah wishes she could hide behind Rhodya or one of the other candiadates, but stands straight and still, looking out at the hatchlings and ready and able to move out of the way quickly if she needs to. She clears her throat and then grins at Rhodya. "At least they're safer up there." And a nervous giggle escapes.
From the sands, Terzo comes out of a tunnel at the back of the cavern.
From the sands, Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green's tiny feet prance in place, pale talons kneading the sand; her excitement is getting to her as she continues to try to watch everything going on, all at once. But it's too much for even her bright-eyed intelligence, and she has to come back to earth and focus, focus in on those white thingies that are all watching her right back. Hello! Trotting closer to the candidates, she warbles a few notes at them, cocks her head just so to listen.
From the sands, Suizen lifts a shoulder, with a bit of a grin. "Same way some folks have to be testin' every klah pot rather than takin' the one that's still steamin'." She takes a quick step back as one of the dragonets move quickly, though no-where near the potter..
From the sands, All those shouts, all that trumpeting and slicing: Morning Over Mists Gold swings her head this way and that, as though that would help, oblivious of her sister's glance. She retracts into herself for a moment, and then another, all of her lids shutting for a few moments, and then it's as though her path becomes clear and she follows it: on some curving path that only she knows, heedless of any who may try to cross it. Past where the weyrlingmaster had left. Past those holding hands. She knows where she is, now.
From the sands, Saulienth's choice draws an interested look from the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown, his long neck extends, eyes fixed on the new-made pair and he croons once, then lets out a bright warble: hey he can do /that/ too. Straightening up, he gives his wings a little flip and streches out wobbly newborn limbs, testing out the strength of each. Finally, his head lifts again and those bright eyes scan the Sands, searching and searching for the one true partner that he needs. 'Over there. That way,' something seems to tell him and he starts off through the eggs and shards and clutchmates in almost a straight line, oddly graceful on those awkwardly spindly legs of his.
From the sands, Red-Crested Centurion Bronze searches the sands, faceted eyes taking in his new surroundings. Studying from where the shell of the Rhus Bud Egg fell around him. Observing. He's slow to move, at first simply craning his neck to see what's too be seen. Yet soon enough he raises to all fours, cautiously proceeding towards those white things.
Fayre succeeds in taking off her blue scarf, but has now moved onto removing her large coat. She's doing her best not to whack those around her as she awkwardly wiggles out of it--only the boy to her right gets hit with her sleeve, and just once. By the time she finishes removing all her winterwear, it'll probably be time to put it back on. All the while, she's intently watching the sands, particularly the one candidate she knows: Suizen.
From the sands, Balkaiv takes one step to the side, closer to one half of the blonde twins, though he still doesn't try to drop Su's hand. "I'll protect you, sure. 'Til your little green comes plowing int' my legs t' get t' you." The spindly brown is on the move and he looks after it, his mouth working silently.
From the sands, The Morning Over Mist Gold's wings flap as though they could keep her from touching the ground, and she leans toward the young woman with the deep brown eyes and unruly hair before going still once again. One moment. Two. If only she could get closer... and then she does with a quick clattering croon, all but staggering into the lifemate who'll surely protect her from the world.
From the sands, The Sweet Syrup Egg does not seem to crack so much as liquefy: the honey golden markings upon the shell dissolve and give way to the struggle of the hatchling within, crumbling away to pepper the sands surrounding. Left in its wake is a sleek green, glistening with sticky hatching fluid, who takes her time in unfolding herself from her coil. As her wings dry, held proudly, she strikes out - the young dragonet squanders no time in making her choice from the gathered white-robed candidates, herding her lifemate away from the rest with an insistent squalling.
The flush of exertion and winter release from her cheeks, a breath escaping to the rafters as Satiet tips her head with its paling cheeks backward. Steadier, her second exhalation drops her chin long enough for those bright blue eyes to cast about, finding Fayre and according the Istan weyrwoman a cordial nod, then drifting past Idraila and the other Istan weyrlings to pause a half-second at and then skip quickly over Tiriana. It's only then that High Reaches Weyrwoman spares a sidelong, crooked smile to her Weyrleader, narrowed lashes casting down with faux demure, "I've heard the Istan dragons have violence running in their blood. Perhaps the next queen that rises there will satisfy your bloodlust. Or," she lifts a slim shoulder and smiles openly at N'thei, "Iovniath can be caught by an Istan bronze-..." Her voice drops, though her smirk deepens.
Satiet whispers "That is more man than Rielsath's mate might have been."
From the sands, Kiah bends down to try and fix her sandal so that it doesn't fall off. She straightens again, watching as each dragon finds its mate and she takes another step to the side to be out of the way, so she doesn't get in the way of all the impressions
From the sands, Rhodya grins back at Kiah, but her head's turned by the sound of a warbling dragonet nearby. She's ready to dodge away, her muscles all tense, but the green who made it doesn't look threatening - for the moment. "Ain't she a doll?" she remarks, chuckling weakly, and all the while keeping a wary watch on that green.
From the sands, Winston laughs at Suizen's words and nods to her. "All pots of klah we are. Some sweeter than the rest I suppose." He grins at the Istan before going back to watching the movement of the hatchlings.
From the sands, Terzo was here the whole time, yes. Raking the sands with his eyes, he watches the progress of the hatchlings with jumpy nervousness not normally exhibited of him. He tries to fend it off, but if any hatchling makes a sudden move he's lept a foot sideways. It was all happening much faster than he had expected... but... what had he expected? He was certainly not accustomed to being so out of his comfort zone as he was now.
From the sands, Peeking out from behind a still unhatched egg, the Effervescence of Sun and Earth Green seems to have found what she's looking for but is waiting for him, the one she has her eye on to figure it out too. If a dragon could smile, she would have the winning grin of a small child playing hide-and-seek, daring the one who is It to come find her, on her face, so do her eyes sparkle and her tail twitch with the fun of this game. Finally she can't take it anymore and bounds forward eagerly in 'here-I-am' fashion and pushes her head lovingly into a tall, scruffy-looking young man's midsection. The lift of her bright blue-green eyes to his hazel seals their Impression.
From the sands, Suizen grins a bit, though it's absent as she scans the crowds on the Sands, both in caution, and in a bit of envy as the number of eggs and candidates start to dwindle, things happening quickly. "An' some are smuggled in hot toddies that the Headwoman'll be boxin' your ears over.." she returns to Winston.
From the sands, "Right civilized," R'uen returns to Cirse with a tip of his head toward the chaos ensuing around them. Of course, he could be refering to the candidates as much as the dragons; head tilts are like that.
From the sands, Cracks race across the gray surface of the Ashes to Ashes Egg, a heaving motion from within sending it crashing into the Hole in the Sleeping Forest Egg in a sudden shared cataclysm. Both hatch in a mess of green and blue wings and claws and creels, the blue trailing a streak of ichor that dries in moments, and in the end he finds his lifemate even faster than his sister.
From the sands, Hattie is almost bowled onto her backside by the force of the hatchling queen who stumbles into her and has to struggle to keep herself righted solely to make sure that when she automatically reaches to wrap her arms around her she actually makes contact. She topples forward a little instead, and, mindless of the temperature of the Sands, kneels to hover protectively over, around, beside the young dragonet. "Elaruth... Elaruth, I'll keep you safe," she promises in a voice that trembles.
From the sands, "You get her, I'll get the blue and the green," Jantha tells Phara, pointing towards the newly-impressed gold. She makes her way across the Sands and rounds up the young blue pair.
From the sands, Kiah grins back at Rhodya as she comments on the green. "Looks like she's found her friend, though. Wow, it does move fast." She shifts off her feet on the sands, reaching up to make sure that the tie hasn't fallen out of her hair again. "Wow, hey Hattie!" A glance at Rhodya. "Hattie on a gold? Wow."
From the sands, Here and there something distracts the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown from his quest and he pauses to investigate the shape of a shard, a footprint left behind by a clutchmate or looks to and fro checking out the passage of others as they seek and find their partners. This distraction doesn't last long though, something is drawing him ever onward in the direction that he needs to go and he charts his course again, neatly side-stepping the fall
From the sands, Winston's got a laugh for Suizen and he even gives her a wink although his attention shifts when the gold finds her lifemate. "Well, shells, that one has good taste," he says quietly with a tinge of regret in his voice for the closest to hear.
From the sands, Perhaps nothing could have convinced Kai to release his hold on Su's hand - nothing, that is, but the sudden arrival of a green to his middle. He oofs and instinctively wraps his arms around the intruder, tenderly smoothing egg-sticky hide. "Ch. Chielyth?" Sands and eggs, Candidates and galleries, all have disappeared for him, leaving nothing but Chielyth behind.
From the sands, Red-Crested Centurion Bronze stalks the group of candidates from a few feet away. Considering each for a short second as he passes them. He stops the, turning to stare towards the group again. He then unfurls his wings, revealing the brilliant color hidden beneath as if the little flap might warn of his presence.
From the sands, Phara darts forward to help candidates turned Weyrlings while Jantha is helping still more. They're everywhere. She turns away from one just fast enough to catch the next, a lithe dance that has her moving steadily until she comes upon the next Impression. This one, she stands still and watches. And then she's darting into motion again, swooping down on Hattie and little Elaruth at Jantha's command. "Congratulations, Hattie," she says in a strangled voice. "Why don't you and Elaruth come this way?"
From the sands, Sulisah grins up at Kai again, but a relatively close croon has her head whipping around to see a dragon Impress nearby as they move off her gaze lands on Hattie and the gold. "Hattie!" Despite her obvious happiness her voice is almost nonexistant as she speaks the girl's name, returning as she follows with "Congratulations!" and a tug on Balkaiv's hand. "Kai. Did you see?" She pauses as her hand is dropped, turns and blinks, the green is right there. "Oh Kai. She's gorgeous." Happy and disappointed at the same time is an odd look.
From the sands, Suizen says, "Congratulations, Hattie!" voice happy for the girl, before offering a slight smile at Winston, before adding. "Not out of the game yet, Winston, y'know.."
N'thei's disgust is brief but unchecked; "Ista." In a word-- soft, sorry, sub-par. He needs not utter his thoughts to make them plain. That his attention happens to have landed on Fayre during this exchange is surely coincidental, for he does not follow Satiet's lead in nodding to the queenrider. A flicker of half-hearted recognition and nothing more.
From the sands, Rhodya sees the same thing Kiah does, and turns to stare. After a moment's astonishment, she sends her fellow candidate the widest grin - and shuttles off to the side. Not towards Hattie: towards /Winston/. "Hattie!" she exclaims, though of course, he has noticed by now. Grinning broadly at him, she gets on tip toe to murmur, "You are so screwed," into his ear. She pats him on the chest and dances back, all aflutter with enthusiasm. This Hatching thing is kinda fun when no one gets mauled. And she hasn't even /noticed/ Kai's green yet.
From the sands, "Let's hope it," Cirse breaks off from her little space in the middle and yet away from it all, swallowing as Peirith's hum shifts a half-step upward, ululating, receding only when the blue Impresses. She tries for humor, craning over the top of her rake to see with her own eyes instead of the queen's, "Still no blood? And, R'uen, did you see. Look at them."
From the sands, With the blue and green escorted to the care of her colleagues, Jantha returns to another young man and his green. "Congratulations," she tells him. "What's her name, and what do we call you now? If you come with me, you can take her over to the barracks and get her some food."
From the sands, After mapping a nearly straight course through eggs and other dragonets alike, the Standing Watch At Sunset Brown toe-dances over to a tall, dark-haired young woman with interesting feet. These he regards for a long moment, before looking up and into her face intently, as if waiting for her to wake up from a dream and see him for all that he really is.
Fayre frees her arm from the sleeve of her sweater--she's moved onto that layer now--just in time to return Satiet's nod with a cheerful wave and smile. Even N'thei gets a happy-enough nod despite that not-so-nice tone in his voice. Perhaps the joyful hustle and bustle of the hatching is getting to her...or maybe it's just too loud to overhear the Weyrleaders' conversation.
From the sands, Winston finds his grin again for Suizen and gives her a nod. "Of course. Not someone like me," he tells her, but then there's Rhodya and to her he just winks. "Like I wasn't before? Let's just see what you get shall we, Rhodya, sweet? Oh, did you see Kai?" He did see him, but was distracted and all. But there he goes pointing to Kai and his green.
From the sands, Terzo gets a bit preoccupied in his curiousity as that one, Hattie, impresses to the gold. So when he turns back around to see the Bronze flare his wings he makes a strangled noise and leaps backwards. He recovers quickly, however, muttering under his breath. He moves a bit closer in to the other candidates. He certainly wasn't going to get himself in the way of a hungry and strangely drawn dragon.
From the sands, B'kaiv, still staring at Chielyth as if trying to memorize her, rouses long enough to tip a dazed smile at Sulisah before focusing on the Weyrlingmaster. "Kai. I'm Kai. She's Chielyth. I found her." Despite that the green was the one doing all the work.
From the sands, At all that renewed shouting and staring and that strangled voice, Elaruth hides her head in Hattie's robe, in Hattie herself, as though she could burrow herself all the way in and out to the other side.
From the sands, A sharp crackling of shell, and a growing lattice of fissures appearing throughout the red and oranges of the Up in Flame Egg, heralds the arrival of a spindly, scrawny blue dragonet. He vigorously pushes away from the flame-licked shards, shaking out cobalt-speckled wings and stretching out his long, thin neck. Scampering off, he noses curiously, eagerly around the candidates in search for his ideal match. Impression is made: I'zach cries out in delight, "Oh, sure, Toijath! You and me, right?"
From the sands, The Red-Crested Centurion Bronze suddenly darts towards the line of candidates, launching the attack hes been planning since he finally broke free of his shell. The final assault is something less violent than might perhaps have been expected as the bronze settles himself just as suddenly in front of a tall, dark skinned young man, giving him a hard nudge at the knees with his muzzle.
From the sands, Hattie just about manages to detangle herself from Elaruth and look up at Phara with an utterly bewildered look on her face. "Yes, I... We will, thank you," she stammers as she moves to stand, looking down at her new lifemate to make sure she's in a ready enough state to follow. She kneels immediately after and gently tugs her robe away from the dragonet whilst running a hand smoothly over one flank. It's more difficult to move away this time, but she does and stands once more, aiming to head in the right direction.
From the sands, As long as she's still being touched, touched by her Hattie, Elaruth goes along with this. Literally.
From the sands, "I'm looking, I'm looking," R'uen attempts to reassure his Weyrwoman. And he hasn't been without a broad smile when each dragon chooses his or her new lifemate. "They're pretty quick, too. That probably helps. Less time to get frustrated and violent." He raises a brow at Cirse, what does she think?
From the sands, Rhodya didn't see Kai. She didn't even see the brown dragonet hovering at her feet. Well, she's noticed him /now/, of course. Now that he's in her head. She kneels down to stare at him, putting a hand under his chin and tipping his face up to make sure he's real. Plenty real. "Oh my gosh, baby. Oh my /gosh/." She plants a hand on his shoulder to help herself up, and heaves herself to her feet. A grin spreads widely across her face as she looks down at her lifemate. "Thanks, Gedroth." She looks up, trying to find the nearest Weyrlingmaster or assistant. "C'mon now, let's get."
From the sands, Sulisah just watches as Kai leaves, slow to call out to the other impressions that happen just after his. As shock fades a little she goes back to watching the dragons left and the other candidates, slowly sidling closer to the others near her and whispering a quick, "Good luck."
From the sands, Gedroth looks back up at Rhodya as she tilts his chin so and nudges his nose lightly against her cheek. No arguments from him about getting where they need to go, he turns with a bright-eyed look, spots other dragonets heading off and trots energetically after.
From the sands, Kiah moves away from Rhodya as she impresses and edges over toward Suizen, backing up again. "Well, at least they go away when they're paired off," she says softly, leaning up on her tiptoes to look around at the rest of the sands.
From the sands, There was plenty he might have said, jokes just ready to spring forth from his lips, but they all stop short. Instead W'ton stares at the rushing bronze just as feels the first touch of someone else in his mind. His mouth splits into a wide grin as he leans down to press his hand on the head that tried to bowl him over. "Easy there, Dasarth. Let's not cause an accident and all."
From the sands, Standing close together, the twins Yamarados and Tameatt watch as the nearby Climb the Sky Egg starts to twitch and kind of bounce in place. Stretching upwards the top suddenly blows off of it and the whole egg falls over, spilling a long, lean green with rusty undertones to her hide out onto the Sands. Tameatt is instantly transfixed, taking a half-step forward, mouth hanging half-open. In moments, impression is made with T'matt's happy exclamation of Yliamath's name. Left behind, Yamarados looks bereft for a moment and shifts closer to some of the other remaining candidates. A few feet away the Walking Trees Egg is inching its way across the sand, like it's occupant is trying to walk still unhatched. The little cluster of candidates has to step out of the way as the egg comes to rest in their midst. A moment later a crack opens in its side and a pale brown head breaks through, the hatchling's eyes fixing on the closest of the white-robed young people. Impression is made before the dragon has even stepped out of the remains of his egg.
From the sands, "Chielyth. That's nice." Jantha takes the green pair to the exit, but no sooner has she returned than there are I'zach and Toijath to gather up, and after them, Rhodya and her brown. She makes her way over to them. "Well done, Rhodya - he's a good looking brown. Come on, let's get you both out of here and settled in the barracks."
From the sands, Suizen offers a quick smile at Sulisah, as she sidles over. "You too, Sulisah. Doin' alright?" she adds, before turning to watch the littlest general make his stand, blinking a bit when she realizes that the stand is at Win... W'ton, rather. There's a hoot of delight at the Impression, and a second as she realizes that Rhodya's been snagged as well. "Congratulations, you tw.. you four!" More excitment at those two Impressions is shown than at the rest of the impressions.
From the sands, "Ain't he just?" Rhodya beams at Jantha. And then notices her dragon's getting away from her. She trots after him, laughing, and stretches a hand down to his head so he can't slip away again.
From the sands, Sulisah calls out brightly again, "Winston!" She even risks a quick round of applause, though stops as soon as she remembers it's one of the things they were told not to do. She does hiss a quick, "Congratulations." to him before turning back to the eggs and hatchlings.
From the sands, There's only two eggs left intact and the Faded Trackmarks Egg looks like it'll be the next to go, swinging wildly from side to side. Finally with a loud popping sound the egg simply cracks right around the middle and bits of shell fly outward as a burly, determined bronze makes his way forth to meet his new partner. Last to hatch, the First Temptation Egg drops its occupant like a piece of fruit falling from a tree branch. Plop. And it's apt maybe, because this plump, round little green looks almost like an apple herself as she rolls free of her egg. Bouncing to her feet she croons perkily and charges into that cluster of remaining candidates to shove herself into Yamadros' legs, making him Y'dros as he calls out "Ollienth!"
From the sands, Terzo is somewhere back amidst the others. It's safe back here after all. Especially when there are wiggling eggs coming towards the candidates. That was really curious, indeed. His head turns at the congradulations again to watch Winston with the brightly colored bronze. He just shakes his head, remembering their last conversation. But Rhodya had also impressed and she'd seemed competant at least.
From the sands, "Not too violent," Cirse says after another deep breath, as though that would make it so, even as she continues to watch the new pairs making their way off the sands. The rake creaks with her weight, and she straightens up hastily. "And now it's... done. I think it's done. Do you think? I don't see any shells left," though she's up on her toes, trying to get a look past Zaiventh's side.
From the sands, W'ton's not unaware of being congratulated and all, but he's got no ready charm just right now to offer to the lovely ladies so pleased for him. There's Dasarth there who needs his attention and he'll have to apologize later and all. Jantha's words get through at least and he grins at the weyrlingmaster with a wink. "W'ton," he tells his with a bit of his charm back. "And Dasarth." Then since he's got somewhere to be he heads for there with his new bronze.
From the sands, Only shards and footprints remain on the sands in the aftermatch of the hatching to mark where Peirith and Zaiventh's clutch once stood. Now it's weyrlings and dragonets instead and whatever the future holds in store for them. Peirith may well insist on the sands being cleaned up, but for now, there's a collective intaking of breath and then the crowd begins to disperse off to the caverns to feast, with much chatter about what colors hatched and who impressed to what and who was right about it and who made a tidy betting profit off of the whole affair. The Weyrleaders linger for a moment or two with the candidates left standing, thanking them for their participation and issuing the invitation to stay to feast, or even remain at the Weyr should they wish it and have no other obligations to return to.
From the sands, Dasarth meanders over to the cavern's entrance.
From the sands, Jantha follows the last hatchling off the Sands, without so much as a glance for the unimpressed candidates.
From the sands, Sulisah does her best to not look disappointed as the hatching ends, and she almost manages. There's a slight longing look sent in the direction of teh barracks, and eventually she turns and smiles at the candidate next to her. "Least we get to have a drink." With a quick curtsey to the clutchparents she lingers a moment longer, then turns to go and get changed.
From the sands, Suizen looks away from Rhodya and W'ton's exit, and then lets out a deep breath as everyone is gone - at least of the dragons and eggs and new weyrlings. A shake of the head is given, then a bit of a crooked grin. "A drink's soundin' rather nice about now... Last one to the Party's a wet wherry?" she offers, before heading off to change as well.
From the sands, Kiah turns to smile at Sulisah, following her out. "I never drank too much. I think I'll go make some pies."