HRW Hatching: Part the Second
The what: History in the making! HRW's eggs hatch, Candidates Stand and some Impress.
The who: Tavrie, S'kris, I'daur, Ayson, Nathein, Madison, Raykini, Emilly, Satiet; a slew of dragonets as well as Nabrimeth and Wrencath.
So far, we've seen some of Nabrimeth and Wrencath's eggs hatch and impress. Our fearless group of Candidates are holding strong, waiting for the last few to do their thing. Meanwhile, Ukeila and Kyobeth, R'yil and Eluth, Imena and Wajath, V'day and Yosavith, I'dyn and Eidenth (NPC's) are subject to the cruel whims of 'reachian Weyrlingmaster I'daur.
Go back to Part the First
One Colossal Egg twitches suddenly, violently. The fine streaks across its side are a blur as it spins several times, digging further into the hatching sands. No cracks can be seen across its shell yet, despite effort from the dragon within.
All good thing must come to an end and Wayward Desperado Bronze's rambling, roaming ways are no exception. The rangy bronze swings his head this way and that before finally swaggering toward a couple of strapping young men. Not him, not him, and definitely not- oh. What's this? It looks like the kind of challenge he was born to face down. He makes his way around to finally settle on narrow haunches in front of a large, somewhat rugged-looking young man. It's a showdown, a meeting of minds and wills and finally eyes. Crimson makes way for the clear blue of desert skies -- no longer is he a lone ranger ... this bronze has found his partner.
Madison's feet begin to pick up and down on the sands, hissing a bit.. "ow, it's a little hot." She hadn't realized how much she has been sweating. "It's hot, Ayson." She offers, looking toawrds the bronze. "Oh, he's.." She blinks.
Raykini tilts is head to the side, taking a cautionary step backwards, his lips turning downwards in a frown. "I wish they didn't get so close, he murmurs quietly to himself."
Picking back up where it left off, Undying Love Egg quivers and shifts, tipping over in its sandy groove so that it is lying on smooth side. Ahh, progress! The jostling and rocking increases in fervor now, but this doesn't last long. Once again, the egg falls still in an almost unsettling manner.
Nathein... N'thei, thank you, starts to take a backward step reminiscent of Raykini's as the bronze drifts ever nearer, but his course changes after a shuffle. "I... reckon...?" His clearly at a loss, standing there with his knees showing and sweat pouring down his face, staring down the barrel of Wyaeth's eyes. "That could be a problem. I'm fresh out of snacks."
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
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Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Another egg has fallen stealthily apart, with a long-limbed blue left in the remains of the All Your Stones in a Line Egg. The shadowy dragon shakes his narrow head and slinks away, vanishing among the candidates and finally coming away with a rider of his own. J'ome, formerly Jerome, can be heard whispering, "We will, Ojanath, I promise." to the darkling beast while they head off to get food.
Tavrie has turned around to dab at a few more tears, but Nabrimeth has her attention glued on her little ones. Turning around she nibbles her lower lip and glances around through watery eyes. "What is wrong with me? I'm never like this," she grumbles, looking a little pink in the cheeks.
Talien is busy watching the nearest shaking egg, and so misses the bronze's choice of Nathein. It'd be to her benefit, however, as spotting Nathein becoming N'thei might render her more dumbfound than the Hatching has thus far managed. Slipping a hand from behind her back to her mouth, Talien bites on the corner of her thumb and mutters something under her breath.
Tempered Graceful Green sweeps along the rows of candidates. Stopping to cast an imperious eye over one young lad, then flicking her head away and continuing her sashay down the line. She halts midpoint and pirouettes gracefully in place lifting wings in a little fluttering display of momentary indecision.
Raykini blinks a little as he turns his head to the side, taking in Nathien...N'thei? With the bronze, "Congrats!" Ray calls, a wide grin on his face as he cheers on the other man.
Madison blinks a few times and she ohs. "Congrats..." She murmurs to Nathein, groaning a bit as she notices that the dragon chooses him before she turns back to the green, giving a little giggle at the pirouette. "Really girly." She murmurs.
S'kris offers a supportive arm and a shoulder to lean or cry on to Tavrie, drawling a low, "Oh, now hush, darlin'. There is nothing wrong with you at all, y'hear?" Wrencath would back him up, but he's too busy warbling and crooning his enthusiastic encouragements to the lot of them.
Emilly dodges a stumbling Candidate to reach N'thei and his bronze. "Hey there, you two," she says friendly like. "Why don't you come along with me where we can get some food for ..." she trails off for the tall fellow to fill in the dragonet's name.
Striations quickly spread across the bronze-shaded shell of the One Colossal Egg, like a sudden wind blowing through the desert night. The shell falls away, almost as one piece being peeled from the stone-colored dragon inside, knocked asunder by broad wings spreading wide to show off the green-hued patina coloring their underside.
Against the Ages Bronze
Chiseled planes of sunlit bronze trace the shape of this powerfully built dragon, as if hewn from a block of quartz infused sandstone. Large of frame and rippling with well-defined musculature, this fellow's solid stance on thick, sturdy limbs and squared shoulders give an impression of unassailable strength, like a fortress standing against the sands of time. His oblong head sports a long, aristocratic snout that hooks slightly to the right; prominent eye-ridges and a firm jaw prevent him from taking on a runneresque appearance. A milky jade patina crowns rounded headknobs and drizzles down the undersides of broad, wide wings perfectly proportioned to his frame and well able to carry this stalwart fighter up into the sky. Polished ebon talons that extend from broad paws, and striations of shimmering coppery threads along his tawny sides infuses a touch of elegance to his otherwise concrete appearance.
Tavrie laughs softly at that, nodding in affirmation. "I can't believe I'm so choked up," she notes. "How embarrassing is that?" is tacked on. Nabrimeth gives a snort, seeming to agree that it is indeed embarrassing. "You aren't supposed to agree!" Tavrie chides her lifemate.
Talien's attention is on the sashaying, pirouetting green. The nibbling on the corner of her thumb doesn't stop and garbles her statement to Raykini, "Wasn't there - oh..." Drawing out the statement she's answered for herself, Talien studies the newest arrival with a faintly wrinkled forehead.
Cracks wend and weave their way across the surface of the Remants of a Tragedy egg, whispering of a promise that will soon be fulfilled. The egg itself finally self-destructs and the well proportioned maiden of a green that emerges is of a lush, forest green. After deeming that all is well, the damsel makes her way across the sands daintily and makes her choice. Lystia reaches out with a trembling hand, eyes wide as she murmurs, "Seryth, of course I'll get you the best food of all!"
N'thei sounds spacey, distracted. "For...?" He looks blinkingly at the dragonet nearby, his smile now full bloom with bucked up pride. "Wyaeth. That's his name." His manners are a few seconds later, delayed in elation; "And I don't know your name, but thank you."
Tempered Graceful Green's arched neck turns an imperial head over her shoulder, eyes whirling in appraising interest at a particular candidate. With measured steps, tail trailing attractive patterns in the sands of her wake, the newly hatched green comes to a collected halt in front of the youngest girl of the grouping.
"Wyaeth," says Emilly beamingly. "And I'm Emilly, assistant Weyrlingmaster, let's get you both taken care of shall we? Just this way." And she ushers the pair off the Sands.
Just as Madison was about to speak she blinks and leans over to the lovely green that has stopped in front of her. "Oh, Seteth! Of course we shall." She folds her arms across the green's neck and places her head against the muzzle of the beautiful green. Her beautiful green.
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
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Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Raykini turns his head slightly, leaning forward as he eyes the new bronzepair leaving but something catches his ear and he turns to Madison, blinking in confusement. "Congrats!" He calls over to her way, grinning widely.
S'kris tsks gently, "Tavrie, it is /hardly/ embarrassing at all. I certainly don't think it is and I scarcely think all of them," a subtle motion to the people in the galleries and to the candidates, "can even see you to make such a, ah, rather foolish accusation."
Undying Love Egg has waited long enough, thank you. The egg begins to quiver violently, the new life within arguing with its beautiful prison. Finally, the hatchling yields once more, allowing the tranquil beauty of the ovoid one last moment of glory while the creature inside regains strength. Tiny fissures now crackle from apex to bottom as the rocking resumes. One talon-tipped paw punches through the shell, gripping the large fragment and crumbling it ruthlessly before being joined by a second and tearing the egg asunder to gain freedom with a trumpet of pride.
Stately Scoundrel Blue
Fashioned as if by turns of weathering and seeming to glisten with a lustrous briny-blue, the chiseled features that build the rugged form of this flinty hatchling are startling, and yet quite striking. Natural grace stems from a trim, well-proportioned frame and supple neck, while broad shoulders and powerful legs afford him a stance as solid and unyielding as a mountain. A delicate muzzle of hewn slate that tapers quite sharply from headkobs to narrow tip handsomely sets off a strong jaw line and softens his stony features. Craggy adornments of polished adamantine form his exquisite eye-ridges and a row of artful crests that run the length of his neck and tail. When extended, his wings with their rich, steely pinions and glacial sails appear well suited to aerial mastery.
Talien smiles, just barely curbing an urge to call out congratulations to Madison as she impresses. With Ayson left to his lonesome, Talien waves him an invite to join the barely wide enough space between her and the girl she stands next to. Another quick breath is pulled in, Talien at last offering a dazed statement of: "It's just too much."
Madison's whole body is trembling as she hugs against the green before her and she nods to the lovely one. "Of course, did you see your brothers and sisters?" She asks.
Raykini shuffles a little in his spot, attempting to cool his feet in the process. "Shards, are they gonna fry us any longer?" he asks, turning to Talien, "I feel like my feet are gonna fall off."
Against the Ages Bronze takes in the situation for a long moment, allowing some time for his wings to dry and for his stature to be admired. While most of his egg fell away, one piece remains caught on his prominent snout, causing him to shake his head quite strongly and send the shard flying across the sands. Then he sets off, sturdy legs propelling him toward his goal--well, once he figures out what that goal is, anyway.
Ayson is still there, though he's mostly silent now. Watching the eggs and the impressions.
Tavrie tucks the slightly damp hanky in her pocket and leans on Nabrimeth. "I'll hush and stop fussing now," she murmurs.
Emilly skitters back onto the Sands from the last drop-off and takes a wide path around towards Madison and Seteth. "Congratulations Madison! Let's get you two off the Sands. What's your green's name then?"
"Seteth is her name and she's very hungry." She says, her own belly rumbling a bit as Madison blushes. "Her name is Seteth."
"Seteth, lovely," says Emilly very perkily. "Just this way, both of you, and mind the eggshells on the way out." The greenrider leads the pair off the Sands and down the passageway.
Striding out from between the twin halves of his shell, Stately Scoundrel Blue peers about him in a serious manner. Clutchsibs and candidates alike receive a piercing look and he lifts his head proudly before starting off toward the gangly human creatures. This great start is thrown out the window as he trips over a stray bit of another eggshell, nearly nose-planting.
The mystery of the Stone Gate's Promise Egg is finally unveiled in a diaphanous blue dragon that appears wreathed in silvered fog, brightening his otherwise midnight blue hue. Wraithlike, he drifts to the candidates and finally presses his nose into one daydreaming lad's hand. Dannek, now known as D'ek, proclaims happily, "Of course, Aloyeth. Let's go!"
Talien pulls her thumb out of her mouth just long enough to say, "Fried feet don't fall off." It's popped back in, though the corners of her mouth tilt upward in another just-contained smile. While she watches the blue and bronze, Talien presses her other hand against her hip and the pressure upon it isn't relented until several knuckles pop.
Against the Ages Bronze has some trouble sorting out his wings and tail, stumbling over the remnants of another egg whose pieces get tangled in those sparkling ebon talons. He's determined, though, to keep going and find whatever it is he's looking for, studying each of the candidates as he passes. He rejects a tall, green-eyed girl from Lemos (too big), then a short, dark-haired boy from a nearby hold (too small). Trumpeting a moment's discontent, loud and brash, he pauses in the middle of the sands as if trying to decide what to do next, how he can find the one that's just right.
Raykini tilts his head, leaning quietly near Talien and dropping quietly, a grin coming to his face. "How do you know? Have your feet ever been fried before?" he asks, wiggling his brows at his fellow candidate.
Having managed to sort himself out, Statley Scoundrel Blue carries on again, still endeavoring to look his most suave despite hints of clinging egg-goo and stand that he kicked up in his near tumble. He pauses, seeming to consider where his investigation of the white robes should begin, then, he promptly moves around to start at one end of the group.
Yet another egg shudders and falls apart, the Defender of the Sky Egg being unable to stay together due to the struggles of the dragonet within. A clay-brown dragon spills out and straightens, his stocky frame moving slowly as he gains his bearings. He's soon moving toward his choice, however, and locks eyes with Trinsin -- now T'sin -- who declares, "I trust you, too, Valuth. Let's get you some food."
Talien pauses to consider Raykini's question before answering it in a quite obvious yet still bold-faced lie. "No, but I've seen them before. They just whither... oh no-" Talien stops mid-word and gestures unhelpfully with her chin as she watches the trumpeting bronze, "He's gonna... oh no." A step back is taken as both arms drop to her sides. "He's not trampling me, uh-uh."
Raykini laugs absently, rubbing at the back of his head, "I was joking." He tells her, shaking his head and casting the bronze a wary look, shuffling off to the side. Yes, when in doubt, keep your distance.
Tavrie smooths Nabrimeth's hide lovingly. "Are you proud? So many wonderful dragons...a weyrling group that will hopefully where 'ol I'daur out," she teases. The gold rumbles in a pleased manner, eyes following the little bronze for now.
Sitting very still, the Against the Ages Bronze hatchling re-examines all of the Candidates once more, taking his time, head tilted slightly downward in the attitude of a deep thinker. Finally, he picks himself back up again and steers a steady course. Great paws leave wide prints in his wake, and there's a long line left by his tail as he moves toward a tall young man with dark eyes and shaggy brown hair.
Talien's mindset is obvious and as the blue heads toward her end of the line, she eyes him as suspiciously as she eyed the bronze. Being that the blue is closer it's he who she focuses on. Though her lips barely move, a low-toned bluff is directed Raykini's way. "I wasn't."
Head held proudly aloft and wings folded in a business-like manner, the Stately Scoundrel Blue continues to suavely stroll along the line of candidates. He weaves here and snaps there, appearing to enjoy making some of the people squeak or back peddle. He pauses with a snort, shifting his gaze to stare purposefully at someone just out of reach. Then, with a more impatient stride, he hurries to make sure no one will claim his chosen one. The blue charges right up to stand nearly nose to nose with a hazel eyed young woman.
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Raucous sounds disappear in an instant as, like a mental pin prick, a shock ripples throughout your body. As this fades, something new lingers in your mind, a warm presence, growing increasingly as if to overwrite your very being. A wave of heat begins in your temples, running through your veins so that your body aches with the fire and just before it threatens to overwhelm, the feeling changes and the flames die to become a comforting warmth that leaves your thoughts wrapped in a loving embrace. << Hey, chin up beautiful. You passed the test and I, Svodriyth, am gonna take good care of you, >> a male baritone notes with good humor. The protective feeling grows, becoming more familiar as it settles about you. << How about you and me finding something to eat now, hmm? >> Svodriyth requests in good humor.
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Shiver, shudder, splinter, *crack*! The Cursed Beauty Egg finally gives way, revealing its precious treasure in a shower of sapphirine shards. The resulting green is rather rotund and dark, almost oily in appearance, with slick ribbons of seaweed tinting her neckridges. She takes a few waddling steps forward before she starts to keen sharply, drawing Jiscella to her with that sharp cry. "Rysoth! Oh, Rysoth, you'll be /fiiiiiine/!"
A'son eyes widen, in what can only be described as shock. He shakes his head slowly back and forth before finally speaking. "We go to get food, Nikoth. And I will make sure you get as much as you need." He looks to be choked up, and his lips pull into a smile as he slowly puts a hand out to touch the bronze.
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
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Great Rainforest Egg Wyward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Raykini gurns to talien, blinking a bit and rubbing the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Sorry." He murmurs, grinning a bit.
Talien's attempt at warding off an impending mauling pretty much dies when the blue charges and she forgets how to work her feet. Given the frightened expression dropping into a perplexed one, she's either about to faint or... "Oh son of... Svodriyth!" Talien drops both hands around the blue's neck and quickly retracts them when she gets an armful of egg-goo along with the blue. Raykini's touch and congratulations are heard, but in a distant manner that leaves Talien offering an equally distant-sounding, "I'll fry them later.. food sounds good."
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth adison
One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
Undying Love Egg Stately Scoundrel Blue Svodriyth Talien
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
On the bottom step, Satiet pauses (knuckles pale white as she holds her flask behind her back) before girding her slight, crimson-dressed frame up to stride across the sands to stand by Tavrie and S'kris. Her voice, clear and strong rises: "Thank you, so much, for honoring us by agreeing to stand for this clutch at our Weyr in these troubling times and while we're sorry you did not find your dragon on the sands, you were all Searched for a reason." A beat passes, the pale eyes clouding with a spot of unrestrained emotion, perhaps it's sympathy. "We welcome you to make High Reaches Weyr your home and we'd like to extend an invitation to you, and everyone," her voice lifts there to reach the galleries, "To join us in a marvelous dinner prepared for us by Master Myriana and her staff."
A flurry of Impressions at once sees Emilly corraling more than one Weyrling-dragonet pair at once. "Talien ... Ayson ... er ... A'son? This way if you please," says the assistant Weyrlingmaster. "And congratulations to you both!"
A'son still looks shocked, surprised, confused and looks immensely grateful when Emilly steers him towards them towards where they actually need to be.
Raykini flashes a grin in Talien's direction as she's tugged off by the weyrlingmasters. His grin isn't wiped as the weyrwoman starts her speach, just shrugging it off.
Tavrie looks out over the shell strewn sand with a somewhat thoughtful look, smiling at those in the stands and the candidates. She turns to look at S'kris, head tipping curiously with an unasked question.
Weyrleaders' Ledge, High Reaches Weyr(#480RAIJLs)
A flight of steps worn smooth with time lead up to a broad flat area with enough room for a gold and her consort to sprall and lounge. Openings lead to a room used for conferences, the Weyrwoman's private room, and the hatching sands themselves. A round table of well polished hardwood sits in one corner and is surrounded by chairs.
And there's the last couple, trickling in now with Emilly. I'daur watches them, lips pursed, as A'son and Nikoth enter, and with them Talien and Svodriyth. He says nothing for a moment, just studies the pair and finally turns to grab up a pair of buckets, one passed to each new rider. "Here, get to tendin' 'em. Don't let them choke--chew. And--what's their names?" He pauses to glance over them again, gaze lingering a moment on Talien before another hailing attracts his attention. "Oil's over here," he tells Madison. "Grab a bucket and paddle and start slathering it on her. Make sure you get everywhere, too, all right?"
A'son nods to I'daur, accepting the bucket. "Nikoth, that's his name." Not a lot of time is spent on studying the weyrlingmaster before he turns to the Nikoth. "Here, here we go. I know you're hungry. Chew, you have to chew. Got it?" He informs the hatchling in a serious tone, before offering him the first of the chunks.
N'thei tries reasonably, "Unless you could see how funny you look, I don't think you can understand." He even sounds a touch sorry for Wyaeth, but he can't stop himself from looking amusedly at the bronze with his head in a bucket. He stops knuckle-itching Wyaeth's shoulders for a second, a look sent to the oil paddles.
Talien moves, at last; Svodriyth kept within touch and sight every step of the way. Getting back to the here and now proves more difficult than not as she nearly trips and continuously bumps into his side. Success is had and when she steps in with the other weyrlings and hears I'daur, it takes her a moment to wipe that smile (oh, hi, glad to see you!) off her face. His query is indecisively batted around inside her head before she takes the bucket and offers a reply. "Svodriyth - he's Svodriyth." Svodriyth who is then promptly fed.
Emilly comes in on the heels of the last Impressees and looks around the room, discreetly dabbing a tell-tale sheen of sweat from her forehead. Immediately the greenrider shucks off her 'dress' riding jacket and hangs it up out of the way before she dives into helping out. "Got everything you need, Talien?" she pauses by the new-minted bluerider.
"Nikoth. What's yours?" I'daur retorts to A'son, arching a brow. He watches the young man and his bronze get settled, nods once in apparent satisfaction that they're getting on all right, and then he glances back, already warily, to Talien. "Svodriyth," he repeats the blue's name. "Well, feed him up, then." A pause. "Congratulations, Talien," is added more quietly, before he calls out across the ledges: "Oil's here when they start itching."
"I dunno," Talien answers in honest, "Food and... I'daur didn't need anything else after that, but-" Trailing off to shake her head, Talien falls silent to resume feeding the blue. The first time she looks up is at I'daur's congratulations and it draws a small shade of red to her face. Quite the helpless little smile surfaces and is intended for the Weyrlingmaster, though Svodriyth's insistent *hungernow* mentality promptly redirects her focus to him.
Nikoth accepts the first chunk and, as instructed, chews. But it seems he's in such a hurry to not be hungry, he only chews a little, then swallows when the piece is probably still too big.
Svodriyth snorts faintly, as if this should already been well known. He glances rather smuggly at I'daur and then Emilly in turn, seeming to size them up before putting on his best draconic grin. He gratefully accepts all the morsels offered, eating neatly and seeming to scoff at the other dragons if they are sloppy.
"Good, good," says Emilly give the Weyrling's shoulder a brief pat. "Holler if you need a bucket of oil in a bit." Svodriyth's look earns a brief return one from the greenrider, one brow arched and she chuckles softly. "Seems you're doing just fine indeed." And she moves on to check in with some of the others, make sure all the dragonets are chewing and swallowing.
A'son shakes his head, evidentally still in a daze. "I'm sorry, Ays- A'son. That's my name now." He blinks and holds another piece out to him. "Nikoth, chew slower. You'll get all you need, I'll make sure of that. No rushing, please." He smiles at him, handing the chunk all the way out to him.
N'thei reaches for the paddle, having managed to put two and two together belatedly, and hunkers down again to apply oil to the itching Wyaeth. His dragon finishes inhaling the food out of the bucket and leaves the man time enough to look around the room, finally realize who else is in here. In a moment of new camaraderie, he looks at A'son then at Nikoth and grins. "Yours?"
Nikoth chews in an almost exaggerated fashion, in an attempt to please A'son. That doesn't last long, the movement speeding up again: the faster he finishes, the more he'll get!
Dragonet> Svodriyth stretches a wing. <> he indicates N'thei with a glance. <> is added vor the meal. A twinge starts over his shoulder, new skin drying already. (to Talien)
With everyone settling down to eat, or oil, or let the tired dragons drowse against them, I'daur can stop limping between the kids and their hatchlings, pausing to leave up against the wall again, rubbing his left leg idly as he does so. "We'll let them finish up feeding, at least, and then see about getting 'em into the barracks to finish up the oiling and get to sleep," he remarks to Emilly as he notes her.
"He's the best." Talien agrees to Emilly's statement - dazed by Svodriyth's confidence and the whole of the blue, she's practically bursting with pride and doing her utmost best to feed him the choicest pieces of meat first. "No worries about them," she assures the blue in a quiet undertone, "You're all mine and we'll be fine..." In the wake of a grin, she glances toward N'thei and bobs her head; spastic-seeming, Talien then scoots around to Svodriyth's side, "Here?" Both hands surround the area as she digs her fingers into the offending area.
Emilly finishes up re-instructing V'day and then steps back herself, nodding I'daur's way. "Yessir," she says with a grin and tosses of a loose salute then props her hands on her hips, observing the group as the chaos lessens somewhat, all busy with one task or another.
Nikoth chews on the next piece, and as he does, takes a moment to turn his head this way, and that. When his head is turned slightly right--meaning the hooked nose is hidden a bit--he pauses to allow a moment for his green-shined headknobs to be admired. Amazing, yes.
Dragonet> Svodriyth lets his jaw drop in another sly grin. <> he half-scolds her. (to Talien)
N'thei rests on his heels a few moments to watch Wyaeth make the effort to work the paddle for himself; the lack of thumbs gets the better of him, and the dragonet lets the weyrling do the oil-work. "Wyaeth. Flushes my whole theory that the little boys are better suited for this business." As good-natured as he's ever shown, he even bright-smiles at Talien. His next words are lower, for his dragon only.
A'son gently, as if afraid to hurt him, touches the headknobs, and continues to give the bronze a little rub. Whenever that next piece is chewed, there'll be another one all ready for him. "When we're done, I can oil you." He informs him, and he shakes his head suddenly. "You're right also." He says outloud and smiles affectionately at him.
"Me neither," Talien says with a semi-abashed chuck of her shoulder against Svodriyth's side, "Won't even need B'yan... I'll tell him, too." She continues scratching up until Svodriyth's hint. Promptly seeking out oil, Talien slathers a copious amount right on the area she's been scratching, "Tell me when, ok?"
After the next few pieces of meat, Nikoth seems to settle some, eyes shading to a more calming color. Then he suddenly rubs his nose along the stone on the ground, as if it's itchy.
Dragonet> Svodriyth shifts to an ever so innocent, all eyes stare. <> he shifts to offer his side. (to Talien)
Talien is hooked. Totally hooked. Accommodating every shift, plead and hint Svodriyth offers her way, the girl immerses herself totally in his well being and happiness. If it means she's covered in oil and meat goo by the end, well, them's the breaks.
When it seems like things are really slowing down, the dragons growing sleepier than ever, I'daur stands, straightening back up. "All right," he calls out, to grab everyone's attention. "We're moving to the barracks. Everybody up, follow me--Emilly, will you stay back and keep the stragglers up--and watch the claws," he adds to the newly impressed crowd, even as one weyrling nearly finds himself tangling with his green's talons already. The weyrlingmaster shakes his head but offers a wry smile as he turns to lead the way to their new home.
Dragonet> Svodriyth heaves a draconic sigh of pleasure. <> he says lovingly, shifting to bump his head against your chest. (to Talien)
"Of course," says Em, looking up from cleaning up some spilled oil and gives that spot of floor a final polish. She hangs back waiting to take up the rear and catches her jacket off the hook where she left it as she passes. "Whoops, careful there," she steadies a young Weyrling whose fatigue has rendered her a bit wobbly.
N'thei spends a lot of his time now alternating between scratching Wyaeth with his knuckles and oiling all the places that he's just scratched. He's in an awkward position when I'daur proclaims a change of venue, holds up a paddle that now leaks oil down over his knuckles most untidily. Wyaeth knows no hesitation though, just gets to his feet and prepares to lead the way. As if he even knows the way.
"More'n alright," Talien confirms with overflowing confidence. Svodriyth's itching needs seen to, and I'daur's command given, Talien stands and braces herself against him. Her lips move in a silent statement, the tips of her fingers just touching the nape of his neck - he and Talien set off after the Weyrlingmaster.
Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr(#430RAIJs$)
This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets.
The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl.
I'daur, leading the way into the barracks, steps to the side and motions the weyrlings on in. "Get them settled, pick yourself out a cot and a couch. The dragons'll want to sleep now," he tells them, "and you might be sleepy yourselves. But if you feel up to it, you're welcome to go to the party in the living cavern: it's for you, after all. Just remember--no drinking, no sex, and get your butts back in here by ten."
N'thei raises his hand in a way he must know looks comical; "Pardon? No drinking?" He blanches.
Talien breaks away from Svodriyth as they enter the barracks, but only to be the first to claim one particular couch amidst all others. Fingers touching the edges of it, and a hand held out for Svodriyth, Talien glances to I'daur to (in a first of it's own, no less) catch his reaction. Though almost pointedly and petulantly, she settles down on it's edge with the intent on helping Svodriyth up and into place.
"No drinking, you lush." Seteth nudges her a bit as she moves up to claim a particularly beautiful looking couch. She glides up into it and curls around, which causes Madison to yawn broadly. "Oooh ... Ooh.."
"Nope, none," says I'daur, with a shake of his grey head. "Not for the first months, anyway. You need your wits about you to deal with them when they're this young." And there's nothing smug at all about the way he finally gets around to pulling out his usually present flask for a sip, now that he's finally got a moment to breathe. "Give it a couple of months, though--don't worry so much about it, then." It's reassuring. Maybe.
N'thei doesn't pick his cot; Wyaeth picks it. He swaggers over and plops down on a couch, sprawls out comfortably, and starts to snore within seconds. "Don't you think that's a little cruel then?" The weyrling, now the reluctant weyrling, drags his eyes away from Wyaeth to I'daur's flask pleadingly.
Cheekily, Talien says to N'thei, "I know where he keeps his stashes." Plural, as it is emphasized. On the sly, a taunting grin is flashed in I'daur's direction though the true trouble behind it is ruined as she is overcome with a yawn. At nearly the same instant, Svodriyth drapes a paw protective and possessively over Talien's leg while settling his head into her lap. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, Talien drapes both arms around him and leans into his side.
"Not really," admits I'daur with a shrug. "S'just the way it is. When you've made it past first three months, you can do what you want, long as you're not actually /drunk/. You'll have earned more than a few drinks by then, anyway," is his advice. Pause. "You trashed my stash," he adds to Talien, scowling at her. "And if I catch you back there now--" Glower.
Madison's made her way up on her couch with Seteth and she curls up into the warm embrace of her green dragon. She leans back into her glistening hide and closes her eyes. "Soo tired." She yawns outwards..
Emilly moves around the Barracks quietly while I'daur runs down the list of rules, draping a blanket over a sleepy Weyrling here, tidying up more drips of oil there, keeping busy in the background.
Talien's shoulders give the slightest of shakes - silent amusement that's hidden as she straightens and looks once more at I'daur. "Sir," is intoned in the most somber of tones; Svodriyth, on the other hand, has roused himself enough from sleep to stare lazily at I'daur. A flick of his tail is all that comes of the Weyrlingmaster's threat and with a rattling sigh, the blue resituates himself against Talien.
"Really now?" N'thei turns to Talien with newfound respect and a suddenly sweet smile. "What does it take to get that kind of information out of a person, I wonder." For now, he sits down on the end of his cot, pulls off his sandals, plops them on the floor, and looks around with a dubious expression that only gains fortitude with frequent stolen glances at sleeping Wyaeth.
I'daur just shakes his head, apparently giving up, because he steps sideways toward his little attached office to sit down, grimace as he rubs his leg, and drink idly, while he watches over those next door as they settle into the barracks.
"No," Talien says with far too much seriousness and a telling look at I'daur, "I'd never do that." Another yawn breaks forth, one Talien fights as much as possible - never mind she keeps sinking further and further against Svodriyth who seems all too willing in sharing a space of his stone with her.
PC's impressed -
Egg
Hatchling Impressee
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth N'thei
Undying Love Egg Stately Scoundrel Blue Svodriyth Talien
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<
NPC's impressed -
Egg Hatchling Impressee
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mystery's Blood Egg Lucid Green Kyobeth Ukeila
Buried Battles Egg Large Brown Eluth R'yil (Ronayil)
Line in the Sand Egg Sage Green Wajath Imena
Mist and Shadows Egg Summer Sky Blue Eidenth I'dyn (Iveldyn)
Stones in a Line Egg Long-Limbed Blue Ojanath J'ome (Jerome)
Remnants of a Tragedy Egg Forest Green Seryth Lystia
Stones Gate Promise Egg Diaphanous Blue Aloyeth D'ek (Dannek)
Defender of the Sky Egg Clay-Brown Valuth T'sin (Trinsin)
Cursed Beauty Egg Rotund Green Rysoth Jiscella
>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<
The who: Tavrie, S'kris, I'daur, Ayson, Nathein, Madison, Raykini, Emilly, Satiet; a slew of dragonets as well as Nabrimeth and Wrencath.
So far, we've seen some of Nabrimeth and Wrencath's eggs hatch and impress. Our fearless group of Candidates are holding strong, waiting for the last few to do their thing. Meanwhile, Ukeila and Kyobeth, R'yil and Eluth, Imena and Wajath, V'day and Yosavith, I'dyn and Eidenth (NPC's) are subject to the cruel whims of 'reachian Weyrlingmaster I'daur.
Go back to Part the First
One Colossal Egg twitches suddenly, violently. The fine streaks across its side are a blur as it spins several times, digging further into the hatching sands. No cracks can be seen across its shell yet, despite effort from the dragon within.
All good thing must come to an end and Wayward Desperado Bronze's rambling, roaming ways are no exception. The rangy bronze swings his head this way and that before finally swaggering toward a couple of strapping young men. Not him, not him, and definitely not- oh. What's this? It looks like the kind of challenge he was born to face down. He makes his way around to finally settle on narrow haunches in front of a large, somewhat rugged-looking young man. It's a showdown, a meeting of minds and wills and finally eyes. Crimson makes way for the clear blue of desert skies -- no longer is he a lone ranger ... this bronze has found his partner.
Madison's feet begin to pick up and down on the sands, hissing a bit.. "ow, it's a little hot." She hadn't realized how much she has been sweating. "It's hot, Ayson." She offers, looking toawrds the bronze. "Oh, he's.." She blinks.
Raykini tilts is head to the side, taking a cautionary step backwards, his lips turning downwards in a frown. "I wish they didn't get so close, he murmurs quietly to himself."
Picking back up where it left off, Undying Love Egg quivers and shifts, tipping over in its sandy groove so that it is lying on smooth side. Ahh, progress! The jostling and rocking increases in fervor now, but this doesn't last long. Once again, the egg falls still in an almost unsettling manner.
Nathein... N'thei, thank you, starts to take a backward step reminiscent of Raykini's as the bronze drifts ever nearer, but his course changes after a shuffle. "I... reckon...?" His clearly at a loss, standing there with his knees showing and sweat pouring down his face, staring down the barrel of Wyaeth's eyes. "That could be a problem. I'm fresh out of snacks."
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
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Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Another egg has fallen stealthily apart, with a long-limbed blue left in the remains of the All Your Stones in a Line Egg. The shadowy dragon shakes his narrow head and slinks away, vanishing among the candidates and finally coming away with a rider of his own. J'ome, formerly Jerome, can be heard whispering, "We will, Ojanath, I promise." to the darkling beast while they head off to get food.
Tavrie has turned around to dab at a few more tears, but Nabrimeth has her attention glued on her little ones. Turning around she nibbles her lower lip and glances around through watery eyes. "What is wrong with me? I'm never like this," she grumbles, looking a little pink in the cheeks.
Talien is busy watching the nearest shaking egg, and so misses the bronze's choice of Nathein. It'd be to her benefit, however, as spotting Nathein becoming N'thei might render her more dumbfound than the Hatching has thus far managed. Slipping a hand from behind her back to her mouth, Talien bites on the corner of her thumb and mutters something under her breath.
Tempered Graceful Green sweeps along the rows of candidates. Stopping to cast an imperious eye over one young lad, then flicking her head away and continuing her sashay down the line. She halts midpoint and pirouettes gracefully in place lifting wings in a little fluttering display of momentary indecision.
Raykini blinks a little as he turns his head to the side, taking in Nathien...N'thei? With the bronze, "Congrats!" Ray calls, a wide grin on his face as he cheers on the other man.
Madison blinks a few times and she ohs. "Congrats..." She murmurs to Nathein, groaning a bit as she notices that the dragon chooses him before she turns back to the green, giving a little giggle at the pirouette. "Really girly." She murmurs.
S'kris offers a supportive arm and a shoulder to lean or cry on to Tavrie, drawling a low, "Oh, now hush, darlin'. There is nothing wrong with you at all, y'hear?" Wrencath would back him up, but he's too busy warbling and crooning his enthusiastic encouragements to the lot of them.
Emilly dodges a stumbling Candidate to reach N'thei and his bronze. "Hey there, you two," she says friendly like. "Why don't you come along with me where we can get some food for ..." she trails off for the tall fellow to fill in the dragonet's name.
Striations quickly spread across the bronze-shaded shell of the One Colossal Egg, like a sudden wind blowing through the desert night. The shell falls away, almost as one piece being peeled from the stone-colored dragon inside, knocked asunder by broad wings spreading wide to show off the green-hued patina coloring their underside.
Against the Ages Bronze
Chiseled planes of sunlit bronze trace the shape of this powerfully built dragon, as if hewn from a block of quartz infused sandstone. Large of frame and rippling with well-defined musculature, this fellow's solid stance on thick, sturdy limbs and squared shoulders give an impression of unassailable strength, like a fortress standing against the sands of time. His oblong head sports a long, aristocratic snout that hooks slightly to the right; prominent eye-ridges and a firm jaw prevent him from taking on a runneresque appearance. A milky jade patina crowns rounded headknobs and drizzles down the undersides of broad, wide wings perfectly proportioned to his frame and well able to carry this stalwart fighter up into the sky. Polished ebon talons that extend from broad paws, and striations of shimmering coppery threads along his tawny sides infuses a touch of elegance to his otherwise concrete appearance.
Tavrie laughs softly at that, nodding in affirmation. "I can't believe I'm so choked up," she notes. "How embarrassing is that?" is tacked on. Nabrimeth gives a snort, seeming to agree that it is indeed embarrassing. "You aren't supposed to agree!" Tavrie chides her lifemate.
Talien's attention is on the sashaying, pirouetting green. The nibbling on the corner of her thumb doesn't stop and garbles her statement to Raykini, "Wasn't there - oh..." Drawing out the statement she's answered for herself, Talien studies the newest arrival with a faintly wrinkled forehead.
Cracks wend and weave their way across the surface of the Remants of a Tragedy egg, whispering of a promise that will soon be fulfilled. The egg itself finally self-destructs and the well proportioned maiden of a green that emerges is of a lush, forest green. After deeming that all is well, the damsel makes her way across the sands daintily and makes her choice. Lystia reaches out with a trembling hand, eyes wide as she murmurs, "Seryth, of course I'll get you the best food of all!"
N'thei sounds spacey, distracted. "For...?" He looks blinkingly at the dragonet nearby, his smile now full bloom with bucked up pride. "Wyaeth. That's his name." His manners are a few seconds later, delayed in elation; "And I don't know your name, but thank you."
Tempered Graceful Green's arched neck turns an imperial head over her shoulder, eyes whirling in appraising interest at a particular candidate. With measured steps, tail trailing attractive patterns in the sands of her wake, the newly hatched green comes to a collected halt in front of the youngest girl of the grouping.
"Wyaeth," says Emilly beamingly. "And I'm Emilly, assistant Weyrlingmaster, let's get you both taken care of shall we? Just this way." And she ushers the pair off the Sands.
Just as Madison was about to speak she blinks and leans over to the lovely green that has stopped in front of her. "Oh, Seteth! Of course we shall." She folds her arms across the green's neck and places her head against the muzzle of the beautiful green. Her beautiful green.
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Raykini turns his head slightly, leaning forward as he eyes the new bronzepair leaving but something catches his ear and he turns to Madison, blinking in confusement. "Congrats!" He calls over to her way, grinning widely.
S'kris tsks gently, "Tavrie, it is /hardly/ embarrassing at all. I certainly don't think it is and I scarcely think all of them," a subtle motion to the people in the galleries and to the candidates, "can even see you to make such a, ah, rather foolish accusation."
Undying Love Egg has waited long enough, thank you. The egg begins to quiver violently, the new life within arguing with its beautiful prison. Finally, the hatchling yields once more, allowing the tranquil beauty of the ovoid one last moment of glory while the creature inside regains strength. Tiny fissures now crackle from apex to bottom as the rocking resumes. One talon-tipped paw punches through the shell, gripping the large fragment and crumbling it ruthlessly before being joined by a second and tearing the egg asunder to gain freedom with a trumpet of pride.
Stately Scoundrel Blue
Fashioned as if by turns of weathering and seeming to glisten with a lustrous briny-blue, the chiseled features that build the rugged form of this flinty hatchling are startling, and yet quite striking. Natural grace stems from a trim, well-proportioned frame and supple neck, while broad shoulders and powerful legs afford him a stance as solid and unyielding as a mountain. A delicate muzzle of hewn slate that tapers quite sharply from headkobs to narrow tip handsomely sets off a strong jaw line and softens his stony features. Craggy adornments of polished adamantine form his exquisite eye-ridges and a row of artful crests that run the length of his neck and tail. When extended, his wings with their rich, steely pinions and glacial sails appear well suited to aerial mastery.
Talien smiles, just barely curbing an urge to call out congratulations to Madison as she impresses. With Ayson left to his lonesome, Talien waves him an invite to join the barely wide enough space between her and the girl she stands next to. Another quick breath is pulled in, Talien at last offering a dazed statement of: "It's just too much."
Madison's whole body is trembling as she hugs against the green before her and she nods to the lovely one. "Of course, did you see your brothers and sisters?" She asks.
Raykini shuffles a little in his spot, attempting to cool his feet in the process. "Shards, are they gonna fry us any longer?" he asks, turning to Talien, "I feel like my feet are gonna fall off."
Against the Ages Bronze takes in the situation for a long moment, allowing some time for his wings to dry and for his stature to be admired. While most of his egg fell away, one piece remains caught on his prominent snout, causing him to shake his head quite strongly and send the shard flying across the sands. Then he sets off, sturdy legs propelling him toward his goal--well, once he figures out what that goal is, anyway.
Ayson is still there, though he's mostly silent now. Watching the eggs and the impressions.
Tavrie tucks the slightly damp hanky in her pocket and leans on Nabrimeth. "I'll hush and stop fussing now," she murmurs.
Emilly skitters back onto the Sands from the last drop-off and takes a wide path around towards Madison and Seteth. "Congratulations Madison! Let's get you two off the Sands. What's your green's name then?"
"Seteth is her name and she's very hungry." She says, her own belly rumbling a bit as Madison blushes. "Her name is Seteth."
"Seteth, lovely," says Emilly very perkily. "Just this way, both of you, and mind the eggshells on the way out." The greenrider leads the pair off the Sands and down the passageway.
Striding out from between the twin halves of his shell, Stately Scoundrel Blue peers about him in a serious manner. Clutchsibs and candidates alike receive a piercing look and he lifts his head proudly before starting off toward the gangly human creatures. This great start is thrown out the window as he trips over a stray bit of another eggshell, nearly nose-planting.
The mystery of the Stone Gate's Promise Egg is finally unveiled in a diaphanous blue dragon that appears wreathed in silvered fog, brightening his otherwise midnight blue hue. Wraithlike, he drifts to the candidates and finally presses his nose into one daydreaming lad's hand. Dannek, now known as D'ek, proclaims happily, "Of course, Aloyeth. Let's go!"
Talien pulls her thumb out of her mouth just long enough to say, "Fried feet don't fall off." It's popped back in, though the corners of her mouth tilt upward in another just-contained smile. While she watches the blue and bronze, Talien presses her other hand against her hip and the pressure upon it isn't relented until several knuckles pop.
Against the Ages Bronze has some trouble sorting out his wings and tail, stumbling over the remnants of another egg whose pieces get tangled in those sparkling ebon talons. He's determined, though, to keep going and find whatever it is he's looking for, studying each of the candidates as he passes. He rejects a tall, green-eyed girl from Lemos (too big), then a short, dark-haired boy from a nearby hold (too small). Trumpeting a moment's discontent, loud and brash, he pauses in the middle of the sands as if trying to decide what to do next, how he can find the one that's just right.
Raykini tilts his head, leaning quietly near Talien and dropping quietly, a grin coming to his face. "How do you know? Have your feet ever been fried before?" he asks, wiggling his brows at his fellow candidate.
Having managed to sort himself out, Statley Scoundrel Blue carries on again, still endeavoring to look his most suave despite hints of clinging egg-goo and stand that he kicked up in his near tumble. He pauses, seeming to consider where his investigation of the white robes should begin, then, he promptly moves around to start at one end of the group.
Yet another egg shudders and falls apart, the Defender of the Sky Egg being unable to stay together due to the struggles of the dragonet within. A clay-brown dragon spills out and straightens, his stocky frame moving slowly as he gains his bearings. He's soon moving toward his choice, however, and locks eyes with Trinsin -- now T'sin -- who declares, "I trust you, too, Valuth. Let's get you some food."
Talien pauses to consider Raykini's question before answering it in a quite obvious yet still bold-faced lie. "No, but I've seen them before. They just whither... oh no-" Talien stops mid-word and gestures unhelpfully with her chin as she watches the trumpeting bronze, "He's gonna... oh no." A step back is taken as both arms drop to her sides. "He's not trampling me, uh-uh."
Raykini laugs absently, rubbing at the back of his head, "I was joking." He tells her, shaking his head and casting the bronze a wary look, shuffling off to the side. Yes, when in doubt, keep your distance.
Tavrie smooths Nabrimeth's hide lovingly. "Are you proud? So many wonderful dragons...a weyrling group that will hopefully where 'ol I'daur out," she teases. The gold rumbles in a pleased manner, eyes following the little bronze for now.
Sitting very still, the Against the Ages Bronze hatchling re-examines all of the Candidates once more, taking his time, head tilted slightly downward in the attitude of a deep thinker. Finally, he picks himself back up again and steers a steady course. Great paws leave wide prints in his wake, and there's a long line left by his tail as he moves toward a tall young man with dark eyes and shaggy brown hair.
Talien's mindset is obvious and as the blue heads toward her end of the line, she eyes him as suspiciously as she eyed the bronze. Being that the blue is closer it's he who she focuses on. Though her lips barely move, a low-toned bluff is directed Raykini's way. "I wasn't."
Head held proudly aloft and wings folded in a business-like manner, the Stately Scoundrel Blue continues to suavely stroll along the line of candidates. He weaves here and snaps there, appearing to enjoy making some of the people squeak or back peddle. He pauses with a snort, shifting his gaze to stare purposefully at someone just out of reach. Then, with a more impatient stride, he hurries to make sure no one will claim his chosen one. The blue charges right up to stand nearly nose to nose with a hazel eyed young woman.
******************************************************************************
Raucous sounds disappear in an instant as, like a mental pin prick, a shock ripples throughout your body. As this fades, something new lingers in your mind, a warm presence, growing increasingly as if to overwrite your very being. A wave of heat begins in your temples, running through your veins so that your body aches with the fire and just before it threatens to overwhelm, the feeling changes and the flames die to become a comforting warmth that leaves your thoughts wrapped in a loving embrace. << Hey, chin up beautiful. You passed the test and I, Svodriyth, am gonna take good care of you, >> a male baritone notes with good humor. The protective feeling grows, becoming more familiar as it settles about you. << How about you and me finding something to eat now, hmm? >> Svodriyth requests in good humor.
******************************************************************************
Shiver, shudder, splinter, *crack*! The Cursed Beauty Egg finally gives way, revealing its precious treasure in a shower of sapphirine shards. The resulting green is rather rotund and dark, almost oily in appearance, with slick ribbons of seaweed tinting her neckridges. She takes a few waddling steps forward before she starts to keen sharply, drawing Jiscella to her with that sharp cry. "Rysoth! Oh, Rysoth, you'll be /fiiiiiine/!"
A'son eyes widen, in what can only be described as shock. He shakes his head slowly back and forth before finally speaking. "We go to get food, Nikoth. And I will make sure you get as much as you need." He looks to be choked up, and his lips pull into a smile as he slowly puts a hand out to touch the bronze.
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Great Rainforest Egg Wyward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
Raykini gurns to talien, blinking a bit and rubbing the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Sorry." He murmurs, grinning a bit.
Talien's attempt at warding off an impending mauling pretty much dies when the blue charges and she forgets how to work her feet. Given the frightened expression dropping into a perplexed one, she's either about to faint or... "Oh son of... Svodriyth!" Talien drops both hands around the blue's neck and quickly retracts them when she gets an armful of egg-goo along with the blue. Raykini's touch and congratulations are heard, but in a distant manner that leaves Talien offering an equally distant-sounding, "I'll fry them later.. food sounds good."
>---< High Reaches Weyr Hatching >------------------------------------------<
Egg Hatchling Impressee
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth Nathein
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth adison
One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
Undying Love Egg Stately Scoundrel Blue Svodriyth Talien
>----------------------------------------------------------------------------<
On the bottom step, Satiet pauses (knuckles pale white as she holds her flask behind her back) before girding her slight, crimson-dressed frame up to stride across the sands to stand by Tavrie and S'kris. Her voice, clear and strong rises: "Thank you, so much, for honoring us by agreeing to stand for this clutch at our Weyr in these troubling times and while we're sorry you did not find your dragon on the sands, you were all Searched for a reason." A beat passes, the pale eyes clouding with a spot of unrestrained emotion, perhaps it's sympathy. "We welcome you to make High Reaches Weyr your home and we'd like to extend an invitation to you, and everyone," her voice lifts there to reach the galleries, "To join us in a marvelous dinner prepared for us by Master Myriana and her staff."
A flurry of Impressions at once sees Emilly corraling more than one Weyrling-dragonet pair at once. "Talien ... Ayson ... er ... A'son? This way if you please," says the assistant Weyrlingmaster. "And congratulations to you both!"
A'son still looks shocked, surprised, confused and looks immensely grateful when Emilly steers him towards them towards where they actually need to be.
Raykini flashes a grin in Talien's direction as she's tugged off by the weyrlingmasters. His grin isn't wiped as the weyrwoman starts her speach, just shrugging it off.
Tavrie looks out over the shell strewn sand with a somewhat thoughtful look, smiling at those in the stands and the candidates. She turns to look at S'kris, head tipping curiously with an unasked question.
Weyrleaders' Ledge, High Reaches Weyr(#480RAIJLs)
A flight of steps worn smooth with time lead up to a broad flat area with enough room for a gold and her consort to sprall and lounge. Openings lead to a room used for conferences, the Weyrwoman's private room, and the hatching sands themselves. A round table of well polished hardwood sits in one corner and is surrounded by chairs.
And there's the last couple, trickling in now with Emilly. I'daur watches them, lips pursed, as A'son and Nikoth enter, and with them Talien and Svodriyth. He says nothing for a moment, just studies the pair and finally turns to grab up a pair of buckets, one passed to each new rider. "Here, get to tendin' 'em. Don't let them choke--chew. And--what's their names?" He pauses to glance over them again, gaze lingering a moment on Talien before another hailing attracts his attention. "Oil's over here," he tells Madison. "Grab a bucket and paddle and start slathering it on her. Make sure you get everywhere, too, all right?"
A'son nods to I'daur, accepting the bucket. "Nikoth, that's his name." Not a lot of time is spent on studying the weyrlingmaster before he turns to the Nikoth. "Here, here we go. I know you're hungry. Chew, you have to chew. Got it?" He informs the hatchling in a serious tone, before offering him the first of the chunks.
N'thei tries reasonably, "Unless you could see how funny you look, I don't think you can understand." He even sounds a touch sorry for Wyaeth, but he can't stop himself from looking amusedly at the bronze with his head in a bucket. He stops knuckle-itching Wyaeth's shoulders for a second, a look sent to the oil paddles.
Talien moves, at last; Svodriyth kept within touch and sight every step of the way. Getting back to the here and now proves more difficult than not as she nearly trips and continuously bumps into his side. Success is had and when she steps in with the other weyrlings and hears I'daur, it takes her a moment to wipe that smile (oh, hi, glad to see you!) off her face. His query is indecisively batted around inside her head before she takes the bucket and offers a reply. "Svodriyth - he's Svodriyth." Svodriyth who is then promptly fed.
Emilly comes in on the heels of the last Impressees and looks around the room, discreetly dabbing a tell-tale sheen of sweat from her forehead. Immediately the greenrider shucks off her 'dress' riding jacket and hangs it up out of the way before she dives into helping out. "Got everything you need, Talien?" she pauses by the new-minted bluerider.
"Nikoth. What's yours?" I'daur retorts to A'son, arching a brow. He watches the young man and his bronze get settled, nods once in apparent satisfaction that they're getting on all right, and then he glances back, already warily, to Talien. "Svodriyth," he repeats the blue's name. "Well, feed him up, then." A pause. "Congratulations, Talien," is added more quietly, before he calls out across the ledges: "Oil's here when they start itching."
"I dunno," Talien answers in honest, "Food and... I'daur didn't need anything else after that, but-" Trailing off to shake her head, Talien falls silent to resume feeding the blue. The first time she looks up is at I'daur's congratulations and it draws a small shade of red to her face. Quite the helpless little smile surfaces and is intended for the Weyrlingmaster, though Svodriyth's insistent *hungernow* mentality promptly redirects her focus to him.
Nikoth accepts the first chunk and, as instructed, chews. But it seems he's in such a hurry to not be hungry, he only chews a little, then swallows when the piece is probably still too big.
Svodriyth snorts faintly, as if this should already been well known. He glances rather smuggly at I'daur and then Emilly in turn, seeming to size them up before putting on his best draconic grin. He gratefully accepts all the morsels offered, eating neatly and seeming to scoff at the other dragons if they are sloppy.
"Good, good," says Emilly give the Weyrling's shoulder a brief pat. "Holler if you need a bucket of oil in a bit." Svodriyth's look earns a brief return one from the greenrider, one brow arched and she chuckles softly. "Seems you're doing just fine indeed." And she moves on to check in with some of the others, make sure all the dragonets are chewing and swallowing.
A'son shakes his head, evidentally still in a daze. "I'm sorry, Ays- A'son. That's my name now." He blinks and holds another piece out to him. "Nikoth, chew slower. You'll get all you need, I'll make sure of that. No rushing, please." He smiles at him, handing the chunk all the way out to him.
N'thei reaches for the paddle, having managed to put two and two together belatedly, and hunkers down again to apply oil to the itching Wyaeth. His dragon finishes inhaling the food out of the bucket and leaves the man time enough to look around the room, finally realize who else is in here. In a moment of new camaraderie, he looks at A'son then at Nikoth and grins. "Yours?"
Nikoth chews in an almost exaggerated fashion, in an attempt to please A'son. That doesn't last long, the movement speeding up again: the faster he finishes, the more he'll get!
Dragonet> Svodriyth stretches a wing. <> he indicates N'thei with a glance. <> is added vor the meal. A twinge starts over his shoulder, new skin drying already. (to Talien)
With everyone settling down to eat, or oil, or let the tired dragons drowse against them, I'daur can stop limping between the kids and their hatchlings, pausing to leave up against the wall again, rubbing his left leg idly as he does so. "We'll let them finish up feeding, at least, and then see about getting 'em into the barracks to finish up the oiling and get to sleep," he remarks to Emilly as he notes her.
"He's the best." Talien agrees to Emilly's statement - dazed by Svodriyth's confidence and the whole of the blue, she's practically bursting with pride and doing her utmost best to feed him the choicest pieces of meat first. "No worries about them," she assures the blue in a quiet undertone, "You're all mine and we'll be fine..." In the wake of a grin, she glances toward N'thei and bobs her head; spastic-seeming, Talien then scoots around to Svodriyth's side, "Here?" Both hands surround the area as she digs her fingers into the offending area.
Emilly finishes up re-instructing V'day and then steps back herself, nodding I'daur's way. "Yessir," she says with a grin and tosses of a loose salute then props her hands on her hips, observing the group as the chaos lessens somewhat, all busy with one task or another.
Nikoth chews on the next piece, and as he does, takes a moment to turn his head this way, and that. When his head is turned slightly right--meaning the hooked nose is hidden a bit--he pauses to allow a moment for his green-shined headknobs to be admired. Amazing, yes.
Dragonet> Svodriyth lets his jaw drop in another sly grin. <> he half-scolds her. (to Talien)
N'thei rests on his heels a few moments to watch Wyaeth make the effort to work the paddle for himself; the lack of thumbs gets the better of him, and the dragonet lets the weyrling do the oil-work. "Wyaeth. Flushes my whole theory that the little boys are better suited for this business." As good-natured as he's ever shown, he even bright-smiles at Talien. His next words are lower, for his dragon only.
A'son gently, as if afraid to hurt him, touches the headknobs, and continues to give the bronze a little rub. Whenever that next piece is chewed, there'll be another one all ready for him. "When we're done, I can oil you." He informs him, and he shakes his head suddenly. "You're right also." He says outloud and smiles affectionately at him.
"Me neither," Talien says with a semi-abashed chuck of her shoulder against Svodriyth's side, "Won't even need B'yan... I'll tell him, too." She continues scratching up until Svodriyth's hint. Promptly seeking out oil, Talien slathers a copious amount right on the area she's been scratching, "Tell me when, ok?"
After the next few pieces of meat, Nikoth seems to settle some, eyes shading to a more calming color. Then he suddenly rubs his nose along the stone on the ground, as if it's itchy.
Dragonet> Svodriyth shifts to an ever so innocent, all eyes stare. <> he shifts to offer his side. (to Talien)
Talien is hooked. Totally hooked. Accommodating every shift, plead and hint Svodriyth offers her way, the girl immerses herself totally in his well being and happiness. If it means she's covered in oil and meat goo by the end, well, them's the breaks.
When it seems like things are really slowing down, the dragons growing sleepier than ever, I'daur stands, straightening back up. "All right," he calls out, to grab everyone's attention. "We're moving to the barracks. Everybody up, follow me--Emilly, will you stay back and keep the stragglers up--and watch the claws," he adds to the newly impressed crowd, even as one weyrling nearly finds himself tangling with his green's talons already. The weyrlingmaster shakes his head but offers a wry smile as he turns to lead the way to their new home.
Dragonet> Svodriyth heaves a draconic sigh of pleasure. <> he says lovingly, shifting to bump his head against your chest. (to Talien)
"Of course," says Em, looking up from cleaning up some spilled oil and gives that spot of floor a final polish. She hangs back waiting to take up the rear and catches her jacket off the hook where she left it as she passes. "Whoops, careful there," she steadies a young Weyrling whose fatigue has rendered her a bit wobbly.
N'thei spends a lot of his time now alternating between scratching Wyaeth with his knuckles and oiling all the places that he's just scratched. He's in an awkward position when I'daur proclaims a change of venue, holds up a paddle that now leaks oil down over his knuckles most untidily. Wyaeth knows no hesitation though, just gets to his feet and prepares to lead the way. As if he even knows the way.
"More'n alright," Talien confirms with overflowing confidence. Svodriyth's itching needs seen to, and I'daur's command given, Talien stands and braces herself against him. Her lips move in a silent statement, the tips of her fingers just touching the nape of his neck - he and Talien set off after the Weyrlingmaster.
Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr(#430RAIJs$)
This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons; the weyrlings sleep with their dragons. The floor is stone, which helps ease the inevitable task of cleaning up the muck left by the dragonets.
The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl.
I'daur, leading the way into the barracks, steps to the side and motions the weyrlings on in. "Get them settled, pick yourself out a cot and a couch. The dragons'll want to sleep now," he tells them, "and you might be sleepy yourselves. But if you feel up to it, you're welcome to go to the party in the living cavern: it's for you, after all. Just remember--no drinking, no sex, and get your butts back in here by ten."
N'thei raises his hand in a way he must know looks comical; "Pardon? No drinking?" He blanches.
Talien breaks away from Svodriyth as they enter the barracks, but only to be the first to claim one particular couch amidst all others. Fingers touching the edges of it, and a hand held out for Svodriyth, Talien glances to I'daur to (in a first of it's own, no less) catch his reaction. Though almost pointedly and petulantly, she settles down on it's edge with the intent on helping Svodriyth up and into place.
"No drinking, you lush." Seteth nudges her a bit as she moves up to claim a particularly beautiful looking couch. She glides up into it and curls around, which causes Madison to yawn broadly. "Oooh ... Ooh.."
"Nope, none," says I'daur, with a shake of his grey head. "Not for the first months, anyway. You need your wits about you to deal with them when they're this young." And there's nothing smug at all about the way he finally gets around to pulling out his usually present flask for a sip, now that he's finally got a moment to breathe. "Give it a couple of months, though--don't worry so much about it, then." It's reassuring. Maybe.
N'thei doesn't pick his cot; Wyaeth picks it. He swaggers over and plops down on a couch, sprawls out comfortably, and starts to snore within seconds. "Don't you think that's a little cruel then?" The weyrling, now the reluctant weyrling, drags his eyes away from Wyaeth to I'daur's flask pleadingly.
Cheekily, Talien says to N'thei, "I know where he keeps his stashes." Plural, as it is emphasized. On the sly, a taunting grin is flashed in I'daur's direction though the true trouble behind it is ruined as she is overcome with a yawn. At nearly the same instant, Svodriyth drapes a paw protective and possessively over Talien's leg while settling his head into her lap. As though it were the most natural thing in the world, Talien drapes both arms around him and leans into his side.
"Not really," admits I'daur with a shrug. "S'just the way it is. When you've made it past first three months, you can do what you want, long as you're not actually /drunk/. You'll have earned more than a few drinks by then, anyway," is his advice. Pause. "You trashed my stash," he adds to Talien, scowling at her. "And if I catch you back there now--" Glower.
Madison's made her way up on her couch with Seteth and she curls up into the warm embrace of her green dragon. She leans back into her glistening hide and closes her eyes. "Soo tired." She yawns outwards..
Emilly moves around the Barracks quietly while I'daur runs down the list of rules, draping a blanket over a sleepy Weyrling here, tidying up more drips of oil there, keeping busy in the background.
Talien's shoulders give the slightest of shakes - silent amusement that's hidden as she straightens and looks once more at I'daur. "Sir," is intoned in the most somber of tones; Svodriyth, on the other hand, has roused himself enough from sleep to stare lazily at I'daur. A flick of his tail is all that comes of the Weyrlingmaster's threat and with a rattling sigh, the blue resituates himself against Talien.
"Really now?" N'thei turns to Talien with newfound respect and a suddenly sweet smile. "What does it take to get that kind of information out of a person, I wonder." For now, he sits down on the end of his cot, pulls off his sandals, plops them on the floor, and looks around with a dubious expression that only gains fortitude with frequent stolen glances at sleeping Wyaeth.
I'daur just shakes his head, apparently giving up, because he steps sideways toward his little attached office to sit down, grimace as he rubs his leg, and drink idly, while he watches over those next door as they settle into the barracks.
"No," Talien says with far too much seriousness and a telling look at I'daur, "I'd never do that." Another yawn breaks forth, one Talien fights as much as possible - never mind she keeps sinking further and further against Svodriyth who seems all too willing in sharing a space of his stone with her.
PC's impressed -
Egg
Hatchling Impressee
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One Colossal Egg Against the Ages Bronze Nikoth A'son
Great Rainforest Egg Wayward Desperado Bronze Wyaeth N'thei
Undying Love Egg Stately Scoundrel Blue Svodriyth Talien
Guiding Light Egg Tempered Graceful Green Seteth Madison
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NPC's impressed -
Egg Hatchling Impressee
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Mystery's Blood Egg Lucid Green Kyobeth Ukeila
Buried Battles Egg Large Brown Eluth R'yil (Ronayil)
Line in the Sand Egg Sage Green Wajath Imena
Mist and Shadows Egg Summer Sky Blue Eidenth I'dyn (Iveldyn)
Stones in a Line Egg Long-Limbed Blue Ojanath J'ome (Jerome)
Remnants of a Tragedy Egg Forest Green Seryth Lystia
Stones Gate Promise Egg Diaphanous Blue Aloyeth D'ek (Dannek)
Defender of the Sky Egg Clay-Brown Valuth T'sin (Trinsin)
Cursed Beauty Egg Rotund Green Rysoth Jiscella
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