[Log] Definitely Not Jealous
Who: Breena, Brijana, Daerin, K'ran, R'dur, Reanna, St'vren, Tarien
When: Unknown
Where: Galleries, Telgar Weyr
What: At Mirrath's clutching, R'dur tries to forestall a spat between Brijana and Reanna.
Galleries
Stretching along the eastern wall of the hatching cavern, these tiers of seats have enough room for several hundred spectators for Clutchings and Hatchings. To one side, long shallow steps descend to the entrance. There is also a railing separating the lowest tier of seats from the Hatching Sands themselves. Other parts of the galleries are closed off from the sands by a wall to the north and south. From here you can reenter the bowl, or follow the pathway down to the Sands.
The evening is obscured by dark clouds. It is raining lightly. There seems to be a light breeze and the spring air feels a bit nippy. The ground beneath your feet is wet from the last storm.
Contents:
PLAYERS: Breena Brijana St'vren R'dur Reanna Daerin
Obvious Exits:
Bowl Sands
St'vren might be blushing a bit. Or it might be the warmth of the hatching cavern--he'll never tell. "Rusuth didn't care that I looked like a poleaxed herdbeast," he says, studying the dark and nobbly egg, "so I don't much care either. That's an odd one, to be sure." He lifts a hand to wave to the arriving brownrider.
"Wow!" Is Reanna's immediate response to the newest, most frightening, addition to the clutch. Then she immediately drops her voice to whisper to those nearby who aren't riders, "You don't think we could sneak down sometime and get a better look at that one, could we? That's the kind of thing you'd want sitting in your cot to scare folks off."
From the hatching sands, After making almost a full circuit of the hatching sands, Mirrath pauses, turns, and retreats for a few steps -- apparently, this time, she missed that perfect spot and had to return to it.
From the hatching sands, Reubenesque Egg
Lurid colors--splotches of vivid magenta, blobs of old ivory, and swirls of an odd pale orange--dapple the eggshell in haphazard and eye searing glory. Against a base of dark-flecked beige, the colors stand out even more, and look as though they should smear across the sands when the egg is turned. However, if standing at /just/ the right angle, the abstract messiness of it seems to align into layers. Perhaps not a work of art, but more than the sum of its parts.
Breena's paying enough attention to the sands that she hears the Weyrwoman's comment, and she makes a face as a result. "Oh, lovely. Thanks, *Weyrwoman*." There's a certain strong weight on the woman's title. Then, that sour look melting away, she laughs. "I didn't say it was bad, just that you should've seen your face. It was cute." To Daerin next, she smiles. "They're nice, aren't they? She's pretty busy out there--er. No...I wouldn't recommend sneaking down there. If you're a candidate, they'll pitch you out for it, and besides...they'd never go out to hurt anyone on purpose, but are you sure you'd want to have them breathing down your neck if you went down there?"
From the hatching sands, Indrath trails after Mirrath, pausing as she pauses, and offering quiet rumbles of encouragement through her labors. Of course, the lean-framed bronze can't help but shoot an accusing look at his rider, and then toward the galleries.
Daerin smiles as he shakes his head a bit. "This is such....such a wonder." He says with awe in his voice. Daerin does not truely pay much attention to what is being said around him, though he catches bit and pieces of it all.
Just trailing in, R'dur glances first to the sands and the eggs, murmuring something under his breath. Next, though, he gives the rest of the galleries a cursory glance, ducking his head after that. He meanders along the steps, apparently aimlessly.
St'vren does not dare respond to either Reanna's overheard comment or Breena's response. because /he/ never did anything similar to trying to sneak a look at the eggs, no, not at all. He just watches the eggs, mock-shading his eyes at the bright colors of the most recent.
Daerin is already formulating plans to try to get as close to the eggs as he possibly can at this point
After a moment of distinct surprise, a decidedly disgruntled expression settles upon Reanna when she realizes she's been overheard far more than she intended. "Folks here have ears ten times better than Master Jaeleka's." Apparently, if her tone is any indication, that's really saying something.
From the hatching sands, Though she's not yet tired, Mirrath is still not thrilled to be here, as evidenced by the sudden pause she uses as an excuse to lean up against Indrath for support. And yet, when she moves away, another egg lies quiet in the hot hatching sands.
From the hatching sands, Razzmatazz Egg
An extraordinary burst of color overwhelms this egg, making it appear larger and more brilliant than the small, lusterless shell should warrant. Somehow, between washed-out lavenders and reds, and gaudy pinks and blues, it becomes deceptively beautiful--until the observer takes a closer look. It may help that a sort of gilded gold spreads in a ring of droplets from base to top, but then again, a bit of scrutiny reveals a greenish, worn sort of cast to the lumpy spots. Quite the painted bit of glass, this one.
Bri's quiet for a while, the silent ruminations of whatever is going on in that pretty little head of hers rendering her blank looking. Every so often her head bobbles, and unwillingly returns to that miasma of all things evil. Belatedly, she turns to Reanna and lifts a careful brow. "Sneaking down is probably not going to happen, but the boys always talk about some tunnels that have a hole that lets you peek through." She glances back at St'vren and Breena and shrugs, "Not that I'd know if there's any validity to those rumors."
Breena shakes her head at the various reactions. "They warn you for a reason, you know. And if any of our candidates make an attempt this time, they will have to deal with me, as well as the Weyrleaders." She grins unapologetically at Reanna's comment, shrugs, but doesn't comment. "Such pretty eggs. They always make such pretty eggs."
Daerin sighs as he hears the concequences to trying to sneak a look at the eggs. "Unfair..."He says softly as he gazes at the newest egg. "They are all so beautiful..."
From the hatching sands, "Jays," remarks K'ran, this time. "That's a lively-looking one. Suppose maybe it'll draw some eyes away from the, ah, complicated one?"
As R'dur meanders, he heads closer to certain voices, picked out as familiar over the crowd's general noise. He pauses to seek out Brijana and then St'vren, offering a slight smile as he heads closer. "Er, good evening. I hope I haven't, well, missed too much?" he asks, glancing toward the sands once more and frowning thoughtfully.
St'vren glances over at Daerin. "The rules are the rules," he says mildly. "A clutching queen can be temperamental, and you /don't/ want to make her angry by being near her eggs without her knowledge. The galleries give a good vantage point, and keep you safe from any talons."
Daerin looks over at St'vren. "i guess that does make sense...My sister was rather tempermental when she was pregnant and right after her child was born...so it does make a great deal of sense that a dragon would be as well..." He nods a bit. "It would be safer to just stay where one can see them, but stay out of reach of a mother's protective grasp.
Something about one of those warnings has Rea asking of Breena, "This time? Is there any way it's different from, say, last time?" Her response to Brijana's little tidbit of information is much, much, much more muted than anything that's come yet. It's just the tiniest quirk of a smile, and a tiny twitch of one eyebrow at the other girl. Before she has time to elaborate, were she going to, a practiced eye takes in a knot that doesn't look quite like the one of the other night. "What? Wingsecond? Shards, who made him /that/?"
From the hatching sands, With Indrath's encouragement, Mirrath starts up on her restless pacing of the sands yet again. This time, there's little more than a pause to betray her, but another egg is all the evidence needed to prove that she's not done yet.
From the hatching sands, Scrofulous Egg
A patchy, swollen brown, the large egg rejects the casual touch; it might well take a stronger will, or a particular lack of sensibility, to discover the shell's smooth symmetry beneath its illusion of turgid infection. Although at times the appearance of tumors seems relatively benign, darker smudges encircling light to resemble bulging nodes, it knows malignance as well: bruised violet blotches, scraped into bubbled layers like weather-raddled paint or a leper's patched rags. The darkest mark of all, stark against the comparatively healthier hue all around, is the likeness of a smithcraft symbol - but inverted, as if someone had jammed a mark piece against the still-soft shell.
From the hatching sands, "Maybe," Tarien agrees, with another speculative look the way of said egg. "Then again, it may be a bit premature to worry -- she's not finished yet, after all, and I know she's had some that -looked- like they might be, but really weren't."
Breena grins, and wrinkles her nose at that latest egg. "Hm, not so sure about that one. But this time? Well, not only do I get some of them as weyrlings, but they've made me a coordinator again, and this time, I'll be on my own, it looks like, so make of that what you will. Hey, R'dur," she adds when she spots him.
St'vren squints at the latest egg, then winces. "Not sure I want the Smithcraft mark on that. Gives us a poor sort of image. The Candidates are going to have an interesting time at egg-touchings...congratulations, Wingsecond!" he calls as soon as R'dur's in hearing range. He even salutes.
"This time?" The look Bri gives Reanna is completely blank -- she's having issues focusing. The chorus of calls towards the brownrider, not the least of which is the harper's less than flattering comment for R'dur's knot, makes Brijana's eyes fly upward, the beam of her smile just beginning. "Over he-, oh, you're here." The elbow that aims to nudge the boyish looking girl might hit or miss, but the intent of her brief eye-scowl (where only her eyes are glowering), makes it clear who she's pissy at.
R'dur blinks at Reanna, blushing immediately; he shrinks down, one hand rising to half-cover the new knot. "I, uh--well, you see--it doesn't matter," he concludes, flushing. Quickly, he glances to Breena with a faint, strained smile. "Good evening, ma'am," he offers her politely. Though, he can't focus on her for long, before cringing at St'vren's words. "Don't, please," he winces at the salute, adding, "Thank you, though." His cheeks are still bright red around his smile. "And, uh... Hi," he offers Brijana as he hesitates only a moment before settling into a seat alongside her. "I'm sorry I'm late."
From the hatching sands, Though she's obviously tired and frustrated, Indrath keeps his mate focused on the task at hand -- he's the one who encourages her onward this time, and though she might drag her feet a little bit, she still does what she's here to do.
From the hatching sands, Transitions Egg
Brilliant cyan reaches for an amber sky, cresting high in a blended swath of new-leaf green around the roundest, widest point. This belt of green boasts undefined edges, blurring hues into warm above and cool below, presenting a clear lake below a sky filled with harvest haze or, inverted, a field of grain beneath a sky of summer blue. No matter what way it's turned, no matter what part of it is cradled in the heated sand to cure and harden, it presents a gentle progression of hues as varied in their gradations as the shades of a sunset sky.
"I'll pity the candidates," Reanna shoots to Breena in a daring kind of tease, and then makes a little grumbling sound at the tumored egg. "You sure no one but dragon-hopefuls get to see the eggs? I'd love to know whether that one smells as rotten as it looks." Though when the apprentice catches Bri's reaction she raises her hands in a not-guilty plea, she can't seem to help one last barb. "It's great and all, but I mean, c'mon. How's he gonna give orders to the riders? Puh-puh-puh-please stay in formation, if--if you don't mind," the tomboy mimics.
Daerin looks at the others here quickly, though his eyes linger a moment longer on Reanna than they do on anyone else, though he attempts to subtly catch R'dur's eye.
From the hatching sands, It's not much of a second wind, but it's better than nothing -- Mirrath, already spoiled by the Interval's smaller clutches, picks up the pace with which she's pacing the sands. This time, those watching in the galleries are subjected to the glare, but that doesn't stop her from leaving behind another egg.
From the hatching sands, Scrambled Egg
Perhaps the random collection of colours and shapes which are scattered over this shell once had meaning. Again and again it is almost possible to trace a pattern or discern part of an image, only to be met with a change in colour and form so complete and abrupt that it is as though a child had smashed the picture and hastily shoved the pieces back together in an effort to avoid detection. One might even imagine that tiny grey fingerprints can be found in various locations on the surface. Evidence of the crime, perhaps.
Breena grins at R'dur, shaking her head. "You don't want me to start calling you Wingsecond, do you? If that's not incentive enough, I'll have to try something else." Brows lift as she looks at Reanna, both amused and baffled--at first. "Hmm. Why--" She breaks off as the apprentice continues, and levels a *look* her way. "I'm sure *that* was unnecessary, especially when I'm quite sure they teach you manners at Harper Hall."
St'vren just grins at R'dur. "Fine, no more salutes. Can I remind you at every opportunity that you never thought you'd Impress and you worried your way through weyrlinghood and now you're the highest-ranked of our class instead?"
"You shut up," Brijana voices quietly, warm eyes flaring angrily. "You don't know him, and now," she scoffs, "I can see why you're in all remedial classes. Bet the harpers can't wait to be rid of you. He'll be /fine/, and you're rude. Don't you dare say another word against him." Because, of course, Bri will stick up for her poor, stammering weyrmate. "Or... or I'll smack you." She aligns herself with the brownrider, shifting closer to him and darting sidelong glares at Reanna which totally overthrows her pretense of a new-found disregard for the other girl.
From the hatching sands, She's still for awhile, is Mirrath, before she starts to find a spot for this latest egg. And, once it has arrived, she shares a long look with Indrath, leaving him to set it to rights as she moves along.
From the hatching sands, Harvest Egg
Autumn's glory paints this egg in shades of orange, brown, and yellow, all overlaid with the golden glow of the sun's rays just before it sets. In the distance, a ragged-edged smudge of dark gray hints at a mountain in the distance, a faint trace of white marking its snow capped peak. Summer still holds some sway, though -- enough to mark the base of the large shell with a smattering of greens both light.
Daerin turns back just in time to see the last egg being layed. Daerin's jaw practically hits the floor at the beauty of it all. For a moment, he spaces out, doing nothing but staring atthe eggs before he whispers, "Never have I ever seen a dragon clutch before...this was something truely amazing."
R'dur blushes intensely at Reanna's gibes, ducking his head and not responding to them. Instead, he knits his brows and directs a quick glance over at Daerin instead. "Er, hi," he mumbles a greeting to him. "Ah... Daerin, was it? How are you?" The other man is a welcome focus away from the mocking harper. "And--oh. I'm sorry, ma--I'm sorry. It's, well, an old habit, I guess. I haven't seen you enough to get over it," he adds to Breena with a small wry smile, relaxing slightly. That relaxation doesn't remain long, though, as Brijana rounds on Reanna. He winces, edging just a bit closer to Brijana, and even daring to try to slide a comforting arm about her as he murmurs something. "And, well," he adds more loudly, giving St'vren a quick wry. "I don't know /what/ T'bay was thinking, anymore than what Alidaeth must have been."
R'dur offers a small smile. He mutters to Brijana, "... please,... She's... just... she's... jealous,... you're beautiful..." His tone is mild, a bit teasing.
Brijana senses "R'dur offers a small smile. "Don't fight with her, please, Bri--she's not worth getting upset over. She's probably just... she's just--I bet she's jealous, you know. Because you're beautiful and wonderful /and/ you have me." His tone is mild, a bit teasing."
From the hatching sands, Indrath abides, guiding the rich-hued egg into a hollow in the sands, even as Mirrath moves on. He breathes more encouragement after his mate as she moves on; K'ran's still splitting attention between the sands and the galleries, though now he's mopping sweat from his brow with a sleeve. "I'm roasting. You?"
For once, authentic chagrin graces Reanna's countenance. "Yeah, you're right," the ill-mannered Harper concedes first to the multi-titled greenrider. "It came off better in my head, y'know?" The admission is given without restraint or a hint of self-conscious discomfiture. She sits through Brijana's tirade with an increasingly distastefully wrinkled nose, and then completely ignores her in favor of her weyrmate. "Hey, R'dur, I'm sorry, 'k? But I'm definitely not jealous." Finally, the easy apologies tossed off, she tilts her head Bri-wards. "Smack me? That might be kinda interesting. You're not really the sort to get into a real tousle, though, so I don't think it's worth our time."
From the hatching sands, Tarien, brow furrowed, looks over Mirrath's latest egg, and shakes her head. "One way or another," she says to K'ran, "I have a feeling we are going to have to worry about that certain... complication. Hmm?" The question gives her pause, and she has to stop and think about it for a moment, laughing at herself all the while. "We'll be used to it, by the time all is said and done."
St'vren comments over in Bri and Rea (sounds like a Harper comedy team)'s direction, "I really don't advocate fighting with her. She fights /dirty/. Pulled hair, insults, screaming right in your ear, you name it." he's only saying this as a public service.
Daerin stands and bows to both R'Dur and Brijana. Once he is standing, he winks at the pair. "It is good to see you both again on such a fine day." he then looks to everyone else around and bows to them as well, his eyes mostly resting on Reanna. "I am afraid that I don't know many of you." He says in a somewhat soft tone. "Though I assure you all that I would be most happy to meet any of you"
Breena's response is muttered softly enough that it doesn't even carry to the people sitting nearest her, and her focus turns back to the eggs. "Hm. Well. This could be...interesting."
From the hatching sands, The tip of Mirrath's tail twitches as she eyes the sands balefully -- where to go next? In a flash, she's made her decision, carefully weaving her way eggs already clutched to leave behind another.
The auburn-haired girl's bristling isn't tempered by R'dur's low words, nor is there visible change at the arm that slides over her shoulders. "Try me." Brijana responds quickly, but doesn't push the issue further than that mutter, and a quick look of fleeting appreciation for her brother's comment. It's a funny thing to be grateful for. "How many were there?" Conversationally, she turns to R'dur, flatly ignoring Reanna's apology to the brownrider, "I wasn't counting too well, and I've marks on there being thirteen."
From the hatching sands, Denimnation Egg
Blue swathes this egg, innumerable shadings from the palest frayed-edge hint to the deep near-black of a summer night. Swatches of sky-blue fade into milkyness, then darken again to indigo and rich cerulean. The blends of color give the shell a textured appearance, like work-worn fabric, and the paler areas seem ready to feather into threads and holes at any moment. Almost stylish, if you like that kind of thing.
R'dur stares wide-eyed at Reanna as she overhears part of his words, then quickly glances away, biting his lip. "I'm sorry," he mumbles to her, flushing shamefully. As he glances away, his eyes cut toward St'vren, mouth a thin line, as though the bronzerider is somehow encouraging this sort of behavior. Yet still, he doesn't comment on it, only glances to Daerin and Brijana again. "It's good to see you, too, Daerin. How are you enjoying the Weyr so far? As for eggs? Oh, I don't know. Thirteen sounds a good number," he tells the pair agreeably.
Reanna uses Daerin's approach as a perfectly good reason to scoot down a row from her newly-forged enemy, and pay her no more attention whatsoever. "I'm Rea, and I think I caught your name awhile ago." It sounds like that's all she's going to give; if he wants to know any more, it'll take a few more questions. St'vren's public service announcement may have been what eventually prompted her to stand down, but the tomboy's not about to admit that. She blusters a bit instead with, "You think that's anything worth worrying about? We've got apprentices at the Hall three times her size that'll sit on you soon as look at you."
From the hatching sands, K'ran draws a breath, exhales slowly. "We've dealt with that particular complication before," he mutters. "I just wasn't really expecting it again."
Daerin smiles dashingly at Reanna. "Rea. It is a pleasure to meet one as pleasing to the eye as you are." He bows to Reanna. "I was just wondering if you could tell me of Harper Hall, since I overheard someone earlier say that you were a Harper..."
From the hatching sands, Now, Mirrath has started to visibly slow, each step slower than the last. Indrath's encouragement is what drives her now, and he's the one to guide her to the next spot into which an egg is clutched.
From the hatching sands, Snickersnack Egg
The deep green of a thickly-wooded forest, daubed with brown and the occasional grayish patch, creeps up from the rounded base of this egg to merge with the lighter grayed halcyon blue capping its pinnacle. It is a melding of colors that completely captures tulgey tranquility, peacefulness placed artfully on an egg's shell. However, all is not entirely brillig upon this pacific canvas. The serenity is forcefully broken along one side by a series of alarming carmine gashes running at perpendicular diagonals, which look like nothing so much as the work of a truly vorpal blade.
Bri's hackles drop the more distance Reanna puts between them. "Thirteen," she repeats, decisive in her nod. "Daerin!" she beams, looking past the dark-haired girl to resident, "I almost didn't see you there. How are you settling in?"
From the hatching sands, "So we have," Tarien replies, lips pursed in thought. "Maybe that's another thing they know that we don't. Though, to be truthful, I'm not sure even -she- knows for sure."
Breena's expression goes distant for a moment, then she shakes her head, sighing. "Well. There goes her guess--I'm not sure why she's so upset, though, she'll still get an opportunity to see them all up close."
In response to a silent summons, St'vren extricates himself from the crowd and makes his way out, murmuring pardons, good-nights, and nice-to-meet-yous to all and sundry.
St'vren walks out into the bowl.
St'vren has left.
"P-pleasing?" It's Rea's turn to do that which she mocked just a moment ago: stammer, in consternation. She shoots a hasty glance down at her loose, unflattering tunic and baggy trousers as though trying to assure herself that she hasn't suddenly sprouted a dress somewhere. "Sorry, dunno what you're talking about, Daerin. But the Hall, well, it's a ton of work. I gotta tell, you, it's not all flowery singing and dancing and stuff like that. Mostly a bunch of boring lessons, if you really want to know."
From the hatching sands, Still on her slow circuit around the clutched eggs, Mirrath eyes Indrath -- she's more regretful and plaintive than angry, and even that melts into resignation when yet another egg joins the clutch.
From the hatching sands, Luminosity Egg
There's no rhyme or reason to the colors which coat the shell of this medium-sized egg, but its bright hues are evident even with just a passing glance. Its base coat of red-tinted orange rubs elbows with streaks of bright, lemony yellow and a hint of pastel green. A bold line of midnight blue runs from top to bottom, growing wider as it spreads toward the egg's base. A bit messy, perhaps, and a bit chaotic, but likely to draw the eye of many once it's nestled in the hot sands.
From the hatching sands, Indrath continues to shadow Mirrath as she travels, pausing only after she clutches each egg to tuck it into the sands. That resigned look she gives him, though, apparently stirs his sympathy, and rather than *follow* her he presses up alongside her, supporting her.
R'dur falls silent, glancing warily to Reanna once more as Daerin takes her off his hands. He watches them a moment, one brow arching at the harper's stammering, then offers Brijana a mildly curious look. "And you've marks on that?" he wonders idly. "I think there's that many now." He pauses to count quickly, mouthing each number as he counts it off. "Yes, thirteen." He offers St'vren a brief good-night.
Breena waves at St'vren as he departs, and extracts herself from the group herself, claiming a spot on the bench nearest the exit. "That's a neat one, sort of like a great big messy painting."
Daerin nods as he looks Rea in the eye. "Very pleasing." He smiles one of his most dashing smiles. "Do you not think that you are pleasing?" He then turns to smile at Brijana. "I am settling in well, thank you for asking, Brijana. He then turns his attention back to Rea. "I assure you that your hall is much more intersting than life with Runnerbeasts..." Daerin says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more of it...I would like to hear more." He looks Rea in the eye. "I believe that your company would be as pleasing as I find you to look upon."
Reanna actually scoots herself back a few inches, away from Daerin's flattery. "Er, hey, look. I know you have a right to your own opinion and all, but you don't have to keep going on with this 'pleasing' stuff. The day I look pleasing is the day I need a good splash in some muddy pond. And I mean, no matter how you stretch it, I /know/ I'm not good company. Did you see how mad I just made poor Bri over there?" She's grasping at straws now, trying to divert his direction of attack. "The Hall? Um, dunno if there's too much more to say. A bunch of crabby Masters, mostly. You know, Masters are the same everywhere."
From the hatching sands, Both loving and amused as her lifemate labors, Tarien asides to K'ran, "She really has him all wrapped up, doesn't she? She looks like she might be nearly done, I think -- I hope!"
From the hatching sands, Once again, Indrath nudges at his mate, once again he's the one to cajole her into moving, though she looks rather substantially unhappy about the whole affair.
From the hatching sands, Zoomzoomzoom Egg
It's bright, it's red, and it's *fast*--oh wait...it's an egg. On the small side among the eggs in this clutch, this one's shell is covered from top to bottom, side to side in just one color--red. Not just any red, but *RED* red, a shiny, no one can stop it, looks like it's streaking past even when it's just standing still red. Maybe it's harmless here out on the sands, but who knows what sort of temperament the hatchling within might possess?
"Well, only a half mark," Brijana admits, "But I think I've just lost it. Ornery dragons," she comments good-naturedly as another egg appears upping the count from thirteen to fourteen. Daerin's attempts at flirting elicits a laugh from the teenager, and with a rueful shake of her head, she regards both harper girl and Telgarian resident with a smirk. Sighing, content for now, she leans against R'dur, arm threading its way through his. "Y'think she's done yet?"
From the hatching sands, Mirrath, once that last egg is clutched, makes one long and careful circuit around their clutch of treasures. She pauses up next to Indrath, leans against him for a long moment, then finds a wide expanse of sand in which to curl up and sleep, leaving him to keep watch.
Daerin looks slightly confused. "So you want me to stop telling you what I think?" He asks as he brushes a still wet strand of silver hair out of his eyes. "You have not managed to make me angry yet..." He pauses as she begins to speak of the Hall again. "I don't really know any Masters at all...It was only my brothers and my sister and my parents...we all learned from my parents. Not from and Craft Hall or Beast Hold..."
R'dur fights down a smile at Reanna's reaction to Daerin, averting his face to keep from grinning at the pair. He focuses quickly on Brijana as she leans against him, shifting slightly so that they're more comfortable. "Oh, well. That's not much--and look. I think she's done, so you were very close. Fourteen, hmm. Not a bad size, for an Interval." Pause. "At least, I don't think so, anyway. If I remember correctly, Alidaeth's clutch was about the same size." He shrugs.
From the hatching sands, "At last," Tarien sighs, once the last egg has been clutched. "Now, I think it's time for something to eat and some fresh air -- want to come with me?"
From the hatching sands, After satisfying himself that Mirrath's asleep, Indrath sets up a watch -- affording the galleries a baleful look before settling into a tense crouch.
From the hatching sands, "I'd love to," exhales K'ran, unfastening his jacket and again mopping at his brow. "Inside of my jacket is a lake -- it'd be nice to get out of this heat."
The first question the silver-haired boy asks merits a resounding, "Yes!" from Reanna, which she bites off as soon as she realizes it was mostly rhetorical. "Heh. I'm sure you'll be angry with me in no time. Seriously. Just gimme a chance to work up something irritating." It looks like the apprentice is really trying, too, until she gives it up with a sigh and answers, "That's the best way, leanin' from your parents. That's the way I learned 'til fourteen Turns or so. And I'll always be a better Trader than Harper."
Breena, seated back by the entranceway, eyes the clutch thoughtfully. "Hm. Fifteen, I think? Looks like it might be a nice group. Sonaith..." The rest of her comment is made on a direct rider-to-dragon thread, rather than one she gives voice to.
About to correct R'dur, Brijana's mouth opens and then snaps shut at Breena's timely interjection. "Fifteen's a nice number, even if I lost half a mark. S'more than the other Weyrs, isn't it?" Of course, she's the one who's spent all her time in the records hall. "Alidaeth's clutch was lovely, from what I recall. It's been a while though," she concedes. Nudging gently at the brownrider, she makes to get up. "I think," a speculative look is granted the Weyrleaders, "She's done for now at least, and it's so lovely and warm here, but it's making me incredibly sleepy. Care to give me a lift, or shall I hitch a ride with someone else?"
Breena, after one last look at the clutch, heads out into the rain and cold of the spring evening.
Breena walks out into the bowl.
Breena has left.
Daerin smiles a bit, in an almost gentle manner when Reanna blurts out yes. "Maybe we could talk a bit mor ebefore you make the assumption that I will get angry. you might find that you have a friend if you would just give me a chance. And though you don't believe me because you don't see yourself as pleasing...It doesn't mean that you aren't." Daerin smiles. "A trader, huh? All I know is a bit about caring for Runnerbeasts and doing chores...Laundry and the like..." He smiles. "Did you get to travel much?"
"Oh," R'dur says, frowning. Quickly, he recounts, then smiles sheepishly. "Fifteen. Well, still, not--not too bad." A shrug follows, before he peers at Brijana with widening eyes. "Of course I'll take you," he volunteers, his tone surprised that she'd even suggest otherwise.
"Talk a bit?" Rea repeats, hopelessness beginning to enter her tone. "Well, see, talking's fine, it's the flattery that I--" her hedging is interrupted when the group of older Harpers begins to file out and her journeyman returns to collect his charge. He seems rather pleasantly surprised by the haste with which she complies with the order to get up and move out. "Nicetameetcha," she rambles off to Daerin, and then, clearly still a bit scattered, throws a quick wave at R'dur and Brijana on her way out.
Reanna walks out into the bowl.
Reanna has left.
"Well, if you'd like to stay, I don't mind, the Weyrlingmaster looked like she might be headed off," Bri notes, though she's definitely pleased by R'dur's agreeability. "You came late, I thought you might have wanted to stick around to... schmooze with your wingmates, or study all the eggs you missed." Whilst her chatter, she's already gotten to her feet and made the first few steps towards the gallery steps.
R'dur blinks a bit at Reanna's quick exit, covering his smile with his free hand. "I've schmoozed all day," he complains. "And there's plenty of time for egg-watching." He stands as well, taking a few steps after her. "Good night, Daerin," he adds over one shoulder as he departs.