Ista Weyr Log: Essieth and Ulfianth's Hatching, March 2005 (pt1)
The Ista Weyr domain went down, and I want to save this as something of a vestige for one of my favorite characters. >_>
Hatching Sands(#1296RJqs$)
The black sand of the Istan hatching grounds is quite famous, and it also sends a bit of darker air to the entire cavern, since it doesn't reflect light as well as the unusual sands of, say, Igen. Of course, the sand is not only warm, it's baking almost as if it's been in the sun all day, even when the Weyr is under a hurricane warning! The huge cavern arcs overhead, a volcanic bubble in black matte rock, while the tiers of the galleries provide seating for the spectators.
Besides the span of the galleries to the south, one can head over towards the entrance to the hatching grounds, or into one of the Queen's tunnels to the southeast and southwest.
The only person on the dark sands is M'rek.
Dragons scattered across the dark sand include Ulfianth, and Essieth.
Glowbasket is lying around loose on the dark sand.
Obvious exits:
Dragon Ledges Main Entrance
M'rek pauses at the entrance to the sands and drinks in the eerie calm of his lifemate for a moment. One of the bronzerider's hands clenches into a fist a moves in a slow circle, as if loosening up for something. He makes a similar motion with his head, stretching at the neck by tipping his head first to the right and then to the left. Eye contact is made with his dragon and then M'rek eases a little and leans against the wall, staying near the entrance.
Kylia strides in after M'rek, a hand at her throat as the eerie thrumming rumbles. "Last time I heard that I was a candidate and so nervous I hardly heard it... it's unnerving, isn't it?" The words are presumably for M'rek, as there's no one else out here. Esseith is pacing a bit, though she settles as Kylia wanders to her side, laying a hand on one golden flank. "Here they come."
M'rek looks over at Kylia and smiles, the humming soaking into him and making him look more alert than even usual. "Aye. Same for me. It's exciting." He moves then following the goldrider and finally coming to rest near one of Ulfianth's forelimbs where he resumes his lean, either trying to look casual or actually feeling such. It's not his fate decided today, after all, but all these other's. "Should be a good hatching."
Jh'or comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands.
Jh'or has arrived.
Shimshon comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands.
Shimshon has arrived.
The candidates arrange themselves into a loose semi-circle on the sands, bowing, almost as one to the golden queen and her bronze companion.
Shimshon walks out a mere moment after Jh'or, crossing the sands with the greenrider, "I almost wish I'd done this before, in any capacity, Jo."
Balinne reaches out to take Pearl's hand as she finds a place on the Sands. Turning, she makes sure Winnit is close by as well, and flashes a comforting smile at the Bitran candidate.
Jh'or grins to Shimshon as they walk, "Well, now you will have. It's hot, noisy, choatic and generally needs a good drink afterwards."
Incomparable Coal Egg gives a mighty shiver, a rattle sounding from within as its occupant hammers against its prison. Thud-thud THUMP.
Lilias shuffles out onto the sands, feet gouging little troughs as she shuffles her way to join the rest of the candidates. One shuffled step causes the sands to jump a little higher on her leg than she would like and she finally lifts her feet properly and hurries to stand near a tall lad from Crom.
Jillah strides out without concern for the heat of the sands, sometimes a step ahead of Dairyn, sometimes a step behind. She's looking for a certain person, and then she makes a shell of her hands, "Lirit! Here!"
Pearl huddles next to Balinne, Winnit over on the other side, holding her shoulder, their sides rubbing. The contact soothes her. Her mouth opens in an O as the first egg struggles. "It's so violent! Look how it...rumbles!"
Lirit picks her way out onto the hatching sands with the rest, keeping Jillah in her sights as she goes and if not Jillah, Dairyn. And then Jillah's calling her and she scurries over, "Ok, over there... uh, hi. Oooh, that one's rocking."
Kylia flashes M'rek a weak smile, dipping a nod. "One can hope. Not just a good hatching... a great one." Now that the moment is upon them she's looking tense enough to make up for M'rek's apparent ease, the hand against Essieth's flank shaking ever so slightly. The candidates get a smile then, and she waves to those who catch her eye. Essieth's eyes dart from egg to egg, her own thrumming dropping to a deeper note.
Dairyn just stands still as can possibly be, tugging at his uncomfortable robes and all notions of tiredness from being token up dispelled by the adrenaline of the moment and sheer nerves from standing on the sorching sands. Sharding half-worn sandles! Suddenly his eyes light up with surprise as the Incomparable Coal Egg starts thumping.
Fadra files onto the Sands quickly, refraining gallantly from clinging to her partner's arm; instead, she focuses on the one thing that's easy to focus on. She shifts from foot to foot, trying to remain dignified enough to not hop, waiting for the dragons to crack shell; as a matter of fact, she's rushing them with, "Sharding hot, c'mon already."
Jasia follows the others out, restricting herself to the tail-end of the group and attempting to hide behind those taller than she. "Remember to breathe," she murmurs as she passes Pearl, and then she pauses a touch behind Lirit, head tilting in a nod for greeting.
Birthed From Fire Egg twitches with a surprising violence, sending black granules of sand flying from its hard-baked scarlet and orange shell before settling again in the mound, now tilted precariously.
Winnit slides to a stop right besides Balinne, giving her and Pearl another reassuring smile as her hands remain wrung into her robes. "Its going to be just fine." Her gaze dances over the faces of the other candidates, perhaps seeking out a specific face is the crowd. Or not. Finally, she sets to chewing on her lip, looking towards the eggs warily.
Moyra follows the crowd, and winds up near Winnit. She glances around, and then over to the Bitran, nodding as she sees that Balinne and the over stressed Pearl are near as well. "Yep, one way or another, its going to be done and over soon." She says in agreement, eyeing the Birthed in Fire egg carefully.
Lirit isn't shifting... yet. She isn't mincing steps as sandals sink into scorching sand, but she does spare a backward glance for Jasia just behind her. "Hi. Shells, this's it, hmm?" Then repeated in a mutter to Jillah at her side, "Shells."
Jillah slings an arm around Lirit, and does put a hand on Dairyn's shoulder now, the grip appearing to be a rather firm pincher-like one. "No matter what, no matter where...I want you both to know I'm proud to know you." And then she looks around at the clusters of people on the sands close by and says louder, to include them all, "Proud to know you."
Balinne ignores the Stands, her eyes sweeping over the eggs. She nods at Pearl's comment, and adds her own. "Well, they are eggs. They have to rock to break the shell and Hatch. It's OK. Really. It's a marvelous sight!" She flashes Winnit a smile. "See anyone you know? Oh, Moyra!"
Pearl heeds the warning, and inhales deeply as she does the Candidate dance, the frantic pacing from foot to foot as the sands scald them. "I promise I'll breathe," she tells whoever happens to be listening. "Oh, it's the fiery one! I thought that one'd be one of the first to Hatch. Too much of a personality to wait."
Birthed From Fire Egg falls prey to gravity, tipping sideways in the mound, the movement sending another chorus of shudders and convulsions rippling through the dazzling casing as if in surprised reaction. It knocks rudely against its eggy brethren before falling still once more on the heaped sandy mound.
Dairyn dosn't appear to seek to talk with any of his fellow candidates out at first, not even when Lirit arrives, as if he's determined to do this whole thing on his own. That's why he almost jumps when Jillah puts her hand on his shoulder, taking a moment to compose himself before lifting his own up and patting it. "...I'm proud to know you too Jillah, so let's do this thing." Seems more like the hunter-lad's resolving both of them, rather then just her.
Lilias glances along the line and spies some of the bouncier candidates and just shakes her head, rocking abck and forth on her feet and looking, for the moment, a little bored.
Shimshon looks rather bored and puts his hands in his pockets, "Should've worn something lighter..." He hangs by Jh'or, a little behind the greenrider, as if Jo was his barrier between Shim and the eggs.
Lirit doesn't avoid Jillah as she slings an arm around her, not by a long shot. "Glad to know you too Jillah, and Dairyn and... everybody. Ooh, it's the fiery one! I wonder what it'll be?" Dairyn's stoicism gets a *look*. Do it your way.
Jasia glances to Jillah, dark brows arching in bemusement, before she turns her focus to Lirit and replies mildly, "Watch your language, m'dear. Wouldn't do to have you teaching dragons obscenities the moment they hatch, would it?" That said, she sidles one step sideways, moving just so behind Dairyn, and wonders rather apropos of nothing, "Why aren't you taller?"
Winnit automatically looks up towards the stands at Balinne's question and reports, "Too many faces to pick out anyone..." Then she smiles brightly at Moyra, "Oh! Hey! Come over here by me." She offers the girl a sweaty hand, should she need one. She wonders, "How can you guess which egg will hatch first? There are so many!"
A lanky lad who was parted from the vintners in order to stand on the sands edges closer and closer to the broadly striped Jump Magic Jump Egg. It seems to be an unconscious move, for as a green foreclaw suddenly punches through an ivory patch of shell, Cerrault squeaks in surprise and back peddles to his point of origin. The rest of the dragonet, a small and vividly hued example of her kind, shortly follows the green limb. As soon as the hatchling is free she squeaks in a strikingly similar fashion to the vintner lad and closes the space that he's put between them so that she can claim him for her own. "Shristeth? Oh of course I'll be your C'ralt."
Balinne grins, though her gaze lingers on the fiery egg. "Yea, I always thought that one'd be a fiesty beast! I can't wait to see if it's bronze! I almost bet on it. Almost." She elbows Winnit gently. "I'm guessing that one," and her finger points to the Birthed from Fire egg.
Dairyn dosn't even notice Lirit's sharp look though one would wonder if he'd just palm it off with his usual upbeat attitude, which seems hardly likely standing on the black Sands at this place and time. However a glance over his shoulder is given at Jasia's alto tone, and a raised eyebrow, "...Why arn't you shorter?" For how sick he's feeling right now, that's a fairly quick retort.
Jh'or shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he watches, "Hey, if you spot kids Impressing and I miss it, kick me or something, kay?" he asks of Shimshon. No sooner said than the greenrider's off to collect a vintner lad and a green, "Shristeth? C'mon along sweetie.. yes, I know you're starving. Meat is over this way." he nudges the new pair off towards a corner of the sands.
Lirit turns lightly pink as Jasia reprimands her, "Sorry... I'm nervous! I'm... green! It's a green! And did--oh he did, good for... I forget his name." Lirit's eyes follow the vintner and that vivid emerald green he's Impressed as they trail off the sands. Beam.
Pearl squeaks at the Jump Magic Jump egg. "Ohh, I spent the longest time on that one at the Egg Touching I went to. Shristeth..." she trails off. She's too fixated on the eggs to be nervous, for now, but she'll remember to be nervous soon enough. Trust Pearl to remember.
Shimshon points at the one who just impressed, "There's one." He smirks at Jo, "So long as you're tween me and them..."
Lilias watches the green closely as it hatches and then choses, looking away only so she can bend over a little and scratch at the tichy patch the sand she scuffed up earlier has caused on her leg.
Fadra bobs up and down in nervous anticipation. She's twining her fingers together, looking around, casting smiles that she hopes are comforting but come across more tense and nearly-panicky than anything else. "D'they have t'hatch *now*?" she inquires quietly, nearly squeaking as she does; she doesn't, however, expect and answer, and so returns to twiddling her fingers again, staring at them.
Jasia looks to C'ralt, eyes narrowing in thought, before a faintly self-satisfied expression crosses her tanned features. "Eh. Because if I were any shorter, hunter-lad, I'd be hard-pressed to see over my brother's head. Can't have that happening, not when he's younger than I am." That's said casually, and her tone remains the same as she adds for Lirit, "You don't look much green to me."
Guilty Burial Egg gives a sudden start of motion, knocking against another egg that has been resting almost against it for the last few hours. There's a cracking noise and yet no sign of breakage follows in the peaceful moment that follow the collision.
Balinne juts out a finger, pointing at the newly Impressed green. "Green! The first was a green! Is that lucky, or unlucky?" she asks curiously, turning towards Winnit and then Pearl. "Doesn't really matter..." and she trails off as the rocking eggs capture her attention. "You're doing better, Pearl," she remarks after a moment.
Lirit snickers at Jasia as her attention returns to the sands nearer herself. "You're probably right. If I was green, I'd be in trouble with the coordinators! Can't wear green on the sands... eep! That was *loud*." this as the eggs collide. "Eesh."
Jillah ignores Jasia's poking and prodding at her companions. She simply flings a slight smile Jasia's way, then leans towards Lirit for a moment, Jillah-bolster style. As the eggs keep bouncing and hopping like drunk sailors trying their best to dance, she says, "At least it's fast..."
Birthed From Fire Egg wobbles heavily, its horizontal position on the mound making it lurch madly over the slight lip of the mound to roll with an inelegant stagger to nestle, once more safely at peace, at the foot of the mound.
Pearl squashes herself against Balinne as she suddenly remembers her former panic. She presses against her as hard as she can, as if the contact is some kind of soothing balm, and perhaps it is, because her breathing regularizes after the brief episode. She gives nary a thought to how the contact may make Balinne feel.
Winnit's head whip about at all the commotion, catching sight of the newly hatched dragon and her face twists in disgust, "Ugh...are they always so...gooey?" Sure, it didn't bother her when the kid got sick on her earlier in the day, but throw a little egg goo into the situation and she's looking nauseated al over again.
Dairyn shifts his feet for more reason then the shoddy sandals, almost hoping inwardly that for every other person that impresses that's one less that's going to find it's way over to him. On the other hand, he's thrilled to be watching it and he's got no idea why. "Mmm... If I was taller i'd have to bend over to talk to you." And now all efforts at conversation are completely forgotten, as his eyes intently watch the Birthed From Fire egg lurching around without any type of coordination.
The Birthed from Fire Egg is utterly still for a long moment as a power builds within its confines. The growing might of the hidden inmate finally causes movement and the egg rumbles as the forces of nature prove too much to sustain. A veritable eruption of cracks sends a cascade of shards raining down to the dark sands below. The occupant bursts forth with eager energy, leaving a miniature mountain range of shell in his wake.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling
The craggy profile is an ocherous brown, the color of freshly-turned earth spilling over a brawny torso in barrows of shade. Burly and bold of figure, his limbs are less elegant than resilient, form following function in this incarnation. The steeply angled shoulders deepen into loam, broad as a mountain range, while infrequent patches of rocky granite cap the jagged ridgeline of his neck. Russet fire spills backwards from the bluntly wedged head, rugged features limned in a ruddy profusion before being shadowed by earthen shades. The tilt of neck is roughly shaped, no fine elongation but a surplus of muscled strength blending into the sinewy shoulders and the gauche bulk of a sedimentary barrel. The wide span of his wings is a panorama of specks and flecks, an aggregate of gravels and oaks that are rimmed by foothills of musculature at their powerful base. The hindquarters are a proud amalgam of bald-faced granite and swarthy lager, the rich brown hue seeping in a good-natured spill over the rock-like dimensions of his haunches. Flinty talons tip the end of blunt limbs, their axe-like curve a hazardous beauty of blue-gray color. He is a rough-hewn shape from weathered muzzle to harshly delineated tailtip.
Balinne squeaks, jumping in surprise as Pearl grabs her. "Pearl, Pearl! You're crushing me!" she squeaks against the other candidate, struggling a bit to be released. "It's /ok/ they won't hurt you!"
Jasia, finally, bestows a searching glance upon the eggs as they collide, but her attention wavers soon after. "Shards, it's hot out here," she mutters to one and all, and though the brown does receive an approving look, she seems more interested in studying her sandals and their lack of thickness.
Jh'or is kept busy, but he finds time to swing back in a lull and 'protect' Shimshon from the hatchings, "Shards, mebbe two drinks after all this running around."
Fadra shifts from foot to foot, nervously. "Oh," she says weakly.
Moyra scans the eggs, and then over to Winnit, "Well, good thing I didn't say, as I'd lost that bet." She says, glancing at the new hatchling as he makes his appearance, and she grins, "A second one already. This might not last too long at all." She notes to her friend, starting the customary two step caused by the sands, though she doesn't seem to notice it that much.
Lirit leans for a second into Jillah, cling and cling alike, feet shifting only so much and stirring sand beneath her. One foot, two foot, this foot, blink. "Ooooh! It hatched. And it's a brown!" Gone is that fiery shell and in it's place is another hatchling to watch.
Jillah falls into a statue-like frozen pose, eyes on the newly hatched brown. "Now look at that, now that's...that's beautiful." Only her eyes move, tracking it, lingering with an almost weighty appreciation, as if she strokes mental fingers just above a slick hide.
Shimshon hehs and drawls, sarcastically, "I feel so lucky to have a big strong you to protect me, Jo."
Pearl immediately steps away from Balinne in excitement at the brown. She squeaks in a shrill tone, "Look! It's a brown! My favorite color, 'Linne! My sister Aislinn Impressed one! But this one's real pretty."
Lilias's itch seems to be annoying her mofe, though this time she uses her other foot to scratch it and succeeds in making it worse. "Green and brown." is muttered quietly to her companion, "And a ton to still go. Wish they'd hurry up so I can get off of here."
Balinne chokes a bit as Pearl releases her. She takes a few gulps of air, shaking her head and composing herself before following the gaze. Something Winnit says comes back to her, and she nods. "I hate the gooeyness too. Oh, what a nice brown! He is pretty, Pearl."
Kylia runs fingers through her hair as eggs start a crackin, a smile touching her lip as the green so quickly finds her match. She nods a congratulations as the lad walks off, then turns to survey this brown. "He's a fine looking brown, I'd say."
Elias shifts his feet slowly on the sands, grimacing at the heat beneath them. He looks at the green for the barest moment before it finds its mate, then eyes the brown perhaps a touch curiously and hopefully. "Might not last all that long." He agrees absently, eyes following the newest hatchling.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling stands a moment in self-satisfied triumph, shaking a stubby tree-trunk of a leg back at the sodden pile of his former abode, sending sand scattering over the mountain of pieces. Ha! Take that, vile prison! The broad wedge of russet-red muzzle tilts back to the front, the raucous roar of his surroundings pulling at his attention. A confused and slightly worried squeak erupts at the sheer mass of beady-eyed things looking at him expectantly. It's a treasure hunt, perhaps? Diving into the unknown, he advances towards the mob curiously, gawky extremities moving in discombobulated strides.
Dairyn watches the Brown not with excitement now, but an oddly detached curiosity and a deep sense of nervousness that makes him draw in another breath and shift his feet even more. "I could have sworn that was a Bronze egg... I guess you really /can't/ tell." Yeah, everyone says that but you never realise it until you've actually stood and watched them Hatch.
Guilty Burial Egg lays still for quite a while as some of the eggs around it start to twitch and pop. The egg must have been gathering strength because this time it almost leaves the surface of the sands as it flips and then hops a few paces from its point of origin. A small, hairline fracture starts to form around one end, breaking the vista of color with a whitish hue.
Winnit looks past Balinne to Pearl again, brow furrowed slightly, "Be careful. Its enough to worry about the dragons without worrying that Balinne will be strangled as well." Betting, though, nabs her attention and she wonders of Moyra, "Which did you bet on, then?" Small talk does wonders for taking her out of the situation she finds herself in, the hot, sweaty, gooeyness of it.
Pearl awwws at the brown. "Poor thing, he looks so intimidated! I do wish I could be less scary for him. You think I'm scaring him, 'Linne?" After a moment's reflection, she decides, "Naah, it's Dairyn who's scaring him, doubtless."
Balinne shakes her head slowly, her eyes on the wandering dragon with a hint of suspicion. "No, Pearl, I don't think you're worrying 'im. I think he's more concerned with finding his bond. Breath! And I'm OK, Winnit, it's alright," she flashes a smile at the Bitran.
The green that emerges from the crystalline beauty of the Masked Purity Egg is colored in a striking contrast of deep, emerald shades and pale lichen hued froth. Stepping carefully from her shells, the young dragon takes her time as she moves and manages to minimize the awkwardness of her newly hatched limbs. Times goes by, and the small green seems to have trouble choosing as she looks from first one candidate and then another and makes occasional noises of dissatisfaction. At last Tressinda, a bossy brunette who started life at Southern Boll, meets the eyes of the hatchling at the very moment that she opens her mouth to announce loudly, "I've had enough of that finicky Neissanth. Ooooh. Neissanth." The girl throws her hands around the neck of the green in a loving embrace and then the pair proceed off the sands, already fussing over each other.
Dairyn suddenly casts his nerves away in indignation, "I can't help it if I make dragons nervous! Besides, that Brown isn't nervous... he's just exploring around." At least that's the Hunter-lad's take on it, though on second glance he realises he's probably wrong. Oh well, what are you going to do about it?
Jh'or's reply to Shimshon is postponed by another new greenriding pair, "C'mon Tressinda.. lovey duvy Neissanth over this way." he hustles them in the right direction.
Lirit starts to giggle in Dairyn's direction, "I'm just glad it's not *me* who makes dragons nervous Dairyn. And... wow. that's a pretty one!" this for the emerald and lichen green finding her mate in Tressinda. "Good for her."
Jasia experiments with the warmth of the sands. She attempts to roll up her sleeves, hands rubbing at bare arms only to find that this robe /has/ no sleeves. That established, she begins to high-step to ease the heat on her feet -- and in doing so, she slides just a few more steps behind Dairyn, her brows furrowing into lines as she does.
From afar, to Kylia and Meika, Lirit snugs! hi!
Guilty Burial Egg rolls, end over end, down a small hill in the sand and finally comes to rest right next to a small cluster of candidates. The egg is now shaking violently as the dragon inside struggles for its freedom. The crack on one end seems to brighten and is joined by a fracture that runs perpendicular.
Jillah remarks, in a deliberately calm manner, "I can't keep track. So...I think I'll just stand here and look straight ahead, well, maybe to the side now and then. Shove me if I'm about to get run over, will you?" Shimshon drifts M'rek-wards as Jo keeps abandoning him.
The Guilty Burial Egg suddenly cracks with a sound like that of a whip through the air, brown and khaki falling away to crumble on black Istan sands. What was once a gnawed and abandoned bit of rubbish is brushed aside to reveal a hidden treasure. Left behind is a hatchling who leaps to his feet with clear relief at having successfully navigated his way out of the confining egg.
Balinne reaches over in an attempt to find, and cling to, Winnit's hand. "This is exciting, isn't it?" she asks those around her, expression bright.
Brash Unpolished Bronze Hatchling
Darkness washes shadows' apparition over this young dragon's hide, making elusive the rusted glint of bronze beneath. In the bright light of day his color is obvious: a beautiful burnished, tawny umber from headknobs to angled tailtip, those illusatory shadows shifting and playing over his hide with each fluid movement. That color reddens to a bronzed ochre down lean limbs and the deft lines of angular wingspars, though across his ridges he's darker still, swarthy sepia settling to the tips like a blanket of fine dust. Whipcord thin and taut as a line, he seems longer than average for his spare, rugged frame, but the promise of muscle already shows in each shift of wings and haunch. And his face, more interesting still; for there's guile in those eyes, and adventure speaks to the light spinnerweb's tracing of ghostly pale that swaths his muzzle.
Lilias sighs slightly, "And a green and a bronze and... ugh, did you just..." She shudders and sidles along the line a little away from her former companion and his newly acquired bad smell.
Pearl leans on the outside edges of her feet, hoping to thus relieve the pain of the hot sands, but is too absorbed in the brown to out and out complain about her feet. She ooohs at the bronze. "Look at that gentleman there! Not sure if any of the boys are even worthy of him."
Cavernous Sanctuary Egg rustles in its small mound of black sand. The shiver of the egg is so slight, that it might well have been imagined - but then, it happens again. The egg quakes, quivering quietly a moment before another little shake causes the sands to skitter from the top edges of the mound down the sides in fear. There comes another, more sharply defined jerk and then this dark egg becomes still.
Dairyn does notice subconciously that Jasia moves closer, but then there's a part of his mind that's dedicated to that kind of thing. Concentrating on the hatching eggs to distract himself, as the Guilty Burial Egg hatches he takes a deep breath, though a quick glance is given over at the departing green. Now his attention is dripen between the Cavernous Sanctuary Egg, or the egg-that-almost-got-him-eaten-by-Essieth egg in his mind, and the newly hatched Bronze.
Moyra glances back at Winnit, doing her best to stay level and calm, and grins. "The fire egg, but that green came out first." She says, ohing softly, "A Bronze now as well." She says, watching to see where it might wind up heading.
Fadra seems, despite all her rushing, quite surprised when the dragons start spilling out. She's looking left and right, trying not to lose sight of them and trying to figure out to whom their going while still staying alert enough *not* to be run over by a hapless hatching. It's all far too fast for her, it seems.
Jillah does the pincher-hold on Dairyn's shoulder again. She tries turning him as if he were a poppet, brown-bronze, bronze-brown. "Like spin the knife a bit, isn't it, m'friend?"
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling treks ahead with the stumpy stride of the short-limbed. Clunk. Clunk. *plop* goes a goo blob. The burly frame pauses in its progress, giving a good hard shake near a quivering group of white-robed candidates, transferring the itchy globules to several people nearby. Aaah, much better! Another grating squeak emerges, tremulous demand for his path to be cleared. Honestly, you'd think they were /trying/ to stop him from completing his quest. He can sense that alluring presence, it's near, and those granite-washed wings rustle in irregular twitches of excitement.
Balinne's breath escapes her as the next egg Hatches. "There's a bronze! And I would have pegged that egg for brown. What a switch," she chatters to herself, her eyes bright. "Oh, the brown's moving!" and she's on the alert, dancing from foot to foot in excitment.
Cavernous Sanctuary Egg redoubles the apparent efforts from the one held captive within to break free of its prison, serenity of sanctuary giving way to more and more violent lurches. One such jolt causes the egg to sliiiiiiide down one side of the mound, leaving it on a diagonal slant to continue its quick-paced wriggling.
Shimshon arches an eyebrow at the bronze and moves just a wee bit more behind M'rek. He's cool, calm, collected ... and wants to be ignored by dragons.
Dairyn nods a little as he gets slightly turned, though his eyes flicker between her and the hatching dragons, "Yeah, but it's hard to rig this game of spin the knife." If only it was as easy as distracting the person and switching it around, though they've discussed ways to rig the hatching before.
Pearl looks keenly back to the brown. "It looks like he knows who he wants," she says in awe. "A brown on a mission!" Her tone is totally awestruck, but the whiteness of her knuckles on Balinne's shoulder betrays her true emotions: nerves, naturally.
Winnit glances down, noting Balinne's hand and clasps it in her own. "Exciting is putting it mildly, don't you think?" Again, her attention goes wandering over the sands, seeking to reassure herself of something or another. She mms and nods to Moyra, "Ah, I see...Well, I hope you made some other bets and get lucky with them! There's nothing wrong with turning a bit of a profit." That's her Bitran side showing through.
Jasia looks up from her feet, neck craning around Dairyn, and blinks when the bronze is noted. "Hm. ...Did any of you see which egg he came out of?" she wonders of the trio she stands by. She's got marks staked on this.
Brash Unpolished Bronze Hatchling scans the sands very quickly, taking in the lay of the land before he gathers himself together and romps towards the nearest grouping of white robes. Intrigued, he studies faces, trying to fathom the secrets each candidate conceals. After a particularly long study of a lanky lass, the bronze hatchling makes a quick turn and starts towards the next grouping of people. He seems to be moving much faster than his limbs are prepared for, and so stumbles quite frequently. He's a menace to those on the sands without meaning to be.
Lirit watches the eggs with a curious detachment, gaze going thoughtful. She periodically shifts her weight from one foot to the other in response to the hot sands, expression much more serious as the reality of the situation sinks in. On the Sands. Dragons hatching. And here she is in the middle of it.
Balinne winces slightly at Pearl's hand, but does nothing about it. She squeases Winnit's hand gently and flashes a quick smile to her. Once more, to Pearl, she remarks, "Well, they do tend to know who they want. That's why it's so fast," she reasons, her eyes flickering between brown and bronze.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling totters his way through the smelly, sweaty ranks, a particularly noxious smell coming from the feet area leaving no doubt there, /that's/ not his target. Head tilts curiously left then right, examining the obstacles that surround him, still staring at him with salivating anticipation. Will everyone just stop staring at him, already? Another firm shake throws off their eyes (and some more goo), and that teasing tingle returns, luring him ahead.
Lilias's concentration is wandering and with a sigh she looks up at the stands, hand raising to rub at the back of her neck as she peers about to see if she can spot anyone she knows.
Dairyn tries to take another glance over at the charing Bronze, which actually gets a delighted smile from him because each one of the hatching Dragons have thier own distinct personality from the moment they've hatched out. "What, got some money riding on the Bronze?" Bad odds to bet on, standing here watching this whole experience now.
Jillah says, almost absently to Jasia, "The burial one, you know, the one that looks like what the pup did with Chevez' trous he left lying out loose?" She smiles at the brown's movements, and though she doesn't angle to get his attention, he's certainly got hers, eyes track-tracking.
Winnit gives a startled little sound, muffled under one hand, as she sees goo go flying from the young brown - even if it doesn't even come remotely close to her. She wrinkles her nose, relaxing when she realizes she's out of danger of getting dirty, "Gross."
Jasia watches as the brown advances, though moments later her attention moves to the galleries stretching beyond. Concentration bleeds into those narrow features -- but it fades soon after, and her head dips to Dairyn and Jillah. "I've some marks on most of the eggs. And looks like I lost on the bronze."
Balinne wrinkles her nose some, and a small shudder runs down her spine. "I have to agree, Winnit. Almost as gross as your tunic earlier," she says teasingly, a wide grin on her freckled face.
( part 2)
Hatching Sands(#1296RJqs$)
The black sand of the Istan hatching grounds is quite famous, and it also sends a bit of darker air to the entire cavern, since it doesn't reflect light as well as the unusual sands of, say, Igen. Of course, the sand is not only warm, it's baking almost as if it's been in the sun all day, even when the Weyr is under a hurricane warning! The huge cavern arcs overhead, a volcanic bubble in black matte rock, while the tiers of the galleries provide seating for the spectators.
Besides the span of the galleries to the south, one can head over towards the entrance to the hatching grounds, or into one of the Queen's tunnels to the southeast and southwest.
The only person on the dark sands is M'rek.
Dragons scattered across the dark sand include Ulfianth, and Essieth.
Glowbasket is lying around loose on the dark sand.
Obvious exits:
Dragon Ledges Main Entrance
M'rek pauses at the entrance to the sands and drinks in the eerie calm of his lifemate for a moment. One of the bronzerider's hands clenches into a fist a moves in a slow circle, as if loosening up for something. He makes a similar motion with his head, stretching at the neck by tipping his head first to the right and then to the left. Eye contact is made with his dragon and then M'rek eases a little and leans against the wall, staying near the entrance.
Kylia strides in after M'rek, a hand at her throat as the eerie thrumming rumbles. "Last time I heard that I was a candidate and so nervous I hardly heard it... it's unnerving, isn't it?" The words are presumably for M'rek, as there's no one else out here. Esseith is pacing a bit, though she settles as Kylia wanders to her side, laying a hand on one golden flank. "Here they come."
M'rek looks over at Kylia and smiles, the humming soaking into him and making him look more alert than even usual. "Aye. Same for me. It's exciting." He moves then following the goldrider and finally coming to rest near one of Ulfianth's forelimbs where he resumes his lean, either trying to look casual or actually feeling such. It's not his fate decided today, after all, but all these other's. "Should be a good hatching."
Jh'or comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands.
Jh'or has arrived.
Shimshon comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands.
Shimshon has arrived.
The candidates arrange themselves into a loose semi-circle on the sands, bowing, almost as one to the golden queen and her bronze companion.
Shimshon walks out a mere moment after Jh'or, crossing the sands with the greenrider, "I almost wish I'd done this before, in any capacity, Jo."
Balinne reaches out to take Pearl's hand as she finds a place on the Sands. Turning, she makes sure Winnit is close by as well, and flashes a comforting smile at the Bitran candidate.
Jh'or grins to Shimshon as they walk, "Well, now you will have. It's hot, noisy, choatic and generally needs a good drink afterwards."
Incomparable Coal Egg gives a mighty shiver, a rattle sounding from within as its occupant hammers against its prison. Thud-thud THUMP.
Lilias shuffles out onto the sands, feet gouging little troughs as she shuffles her way to join the rest of the candidates. One shuffled step causes the sands to jump a little higher on her leg than she would like and she finally lifts her feet properly and hurries to stand near a tall lad from Crom.
Jillah strides out without concern for the heat of the sands, sometimes a step ahead of Dairyn, sometimes a step behind. She's looking for a certain person, and then she makes a shell of her hands, "Lirit! Here!"
Pearl huddles next to Balinne, Winnit over on the other side, holding her shoulder, their sides rubbing. The contact soothes her. Her mouth opens in an O as the first egg struggles. "It's so violent! Look how it...rumbles!"
Lirit picks her way out onto the hatching sands with the rest, keeping Jillah in her sights as she goes and if not Jillah, Dairyn. And then Jillah's calling her and she scurries over, "Ok, over there... uh, hi. Oooh, that one's rocking."
Kylia flashes M'rek a weak smile, dipping a nod. "One can hope. Not just a good hatching... a great one." Now that the moment is upon them she's looking tense enough to make up for M'rek's apparent ease, the hand against Essieth's flank shaking ever so slightly. The candidates get a smile then, and she waves to those who catch her eye. Essieth's eyes dart from egg to egg, her own thrumming dropping to a deeper note.
Dairyn just stands still as can possibly be, tugging at his uncomfortable robes and all notions of tiredness from being token up dispelled by the adrenaline of the moment and sheer nerves from standing on the sorching sands. Sharding half-worn sandles! Suddenly his eyes light up with surprise as the Incomparable Coal Egg starts thumping.
Fadra files onto the Sands quickly, refraining gallantly from clinging to her partner's arm; instead, she focuses on the one thing that's easy to focus on. She shifts from foot to foot, trying to remain dignified enough to not hop, waiting for the dragons to crack shell; as a matter of fact, she's rushing them with, "Sharding hot, c'mon already."
Jasia follows the others out, restricting herself to the tail-end of the group and attempting to hide behind those taller than she. "Remember to breathe," she murmurs as she passes Pearl, and then she pauses a touch behind Lirit, head tilting in a nod for greeting.
Birthed From Fire Egg twitches with a surprising violence, sending black granules of sand flying from its hard-baked scarlet and orange shell before settling again in the mound, now tilted precariously.
Winnit slides to a stop right besides Balinne, giving her and Pearl another reassuring smile as her hands remain wrung into her robes. "Its going to be just fine." Her gaze dances over the faces of the other candidates, perhaps seeking out a specific face is the crowd. Or not. Finally, she sets to chewing on her lip, looking towards the eggs warily.
Moyra follows the crowd, and winds up near Winnit. She glances around, and then over to the Bitran, nodding as she sees that Balinne and the over stressed Pearl are near as well. "Yep, one way or another, its going to be done and over soon." She says in agreement, eyeing the Birthed in Fire egg carefully.
Lirit isn't shifting... yet. She isn't mincing steps as sandals sink into scorching sand, but she does spare a backward glance for Jasia just behind her. "Hi. Shells, this's it, hmm?" Then repeated in a mutter to Jillah at her side, "Shells."
Jillah slings an arm around Lirit, and does put a hand on Dairyn's shoulder now, the grip appearing to be a rather firm pincher-like one. "No matter what, no matter where...I want you both to know I'm proud to know you." And then she looks around at the clusters of people on the sands close by and says louder, to include them all, "Proud to know you."
Balinne ignores the Stands, her eyes sweeping over the eggs. She nods at Pearl's comment, and adds her own. "Well, they are eggs. They have to rock to break the shell and Hatch. It's OK. Really. It's a marvelous sight!" She flashes Winnit a smile. "See anyone you know? Oh, Moyra!"
Pearl heeds the warning, and inhales deeply as she does the Candidate dance, the frantic pacing from foot to foot as the sands scald them. "I promise I'll breathe," she tells whoever happens to be listening. "Oh, it's the fiery one! I thought that one'd be one of the first to Hatch. Too much of a personality to wait."
Birthed From Fire Egg falls prey to gravity, tipping sideways in the mound, the movement sending another chorus of shudders and convulsions rippling through the dazzling casing as if in surprised reaction. It knocks rudely against its eggy brethren before falling still once more on the heaped sandy mound.
Dairyn dosn't appear to seek to talk with any of his fellow candidates out at first, not even when Lirit arrives, as if he's determined to do this whole thing on his own. That's why he almost jumps when Jillah puts her hand on his shoulder, taking a moment to compose himself before lifting his own up and patting it. "...I'm proud to know you too Jillah, so let's do this thing." Seems more like the hunter-lad's resolving both of them, rather then just her.
Lilias glances along the line and spies some of the bouncier candidates and just shakes her head, rocking abck and forth on her feet and looking, for the moment, a little bored.
Shimshon looks rather bored and puts his hands in his pockets, "Should've worn something lighter..." He hangs by Jh'or, a little behind the greenrider, as if Jo was his barrier between Shim and the eggs.
Lirit doesn't avoid Jillah as she slings an arm around her, not by a long shot. "Glad to know you too Jillah, and Dairyn and... everybody. Ooh, it's the fiery one! I wonder what it'll be?" Dairyn's stoicism gets a *look*. Do it your way.
Jasia glances to Jillah, dark brows arching in bemusement, before she turns her focus to Lirit and replies mildly, "Watch your language, m'dear. Wouldn't do to have you teaching dragons obscenities the moment they hatch, would it?" That said, she sidles one step sideways, moving just so behind Dairyn, and wonders rather apropos of nothing, "Why aren't you taller?"
Winnit automatically looks up towards the stands at Balinne's question and reports, "Too many faces to pick out anyone..." Then she smiles brightly at Moyra, "Oh! Hey! Come over here by me." She offers the girl a sweaty hand, should she need one. She wonders, "How can you guess which egg will hatch first? There are so many!"
A lanky lad who was parted from the vintners in order to stand on the sands edges closer and closer to the broadly striped Jump Magic Jump Egg. It seems to be an unconscious move, for as a green foreclaw suddenly punches through an ivory patch of shell, Cerrault squeaks in surprise and back peddles to his point of origin. The rest of the dragonet, a small and vividly hued example of her kind, shortly follows the green limb. As soon as the hatchling is free she squeaks in a strikingly similar fashion to the vintner lad and closes the space that he's put between them so that she can claim him for her own. "Shristeth? Oh of course I'll be your C'ralt."
Balinne grins, though her gaze lingers on the fiery egg. "Yea, I always thought that one'd be a fiesty beast! I can't wait to see if it's bronze! I almost bet on it. Almost." She elbows Winnit gently. "I'm guessing that one," and her finger points to the Birthed from Fire egg.
Dairyn dosn't even notice Lirit's sharp look though one would wonder if he'd just palm it off with his usual upbeat attitude, which seems hardly likely standing on the black Sands at this place and time. However a glance over his shoulder is given at Jasia's alto tone, and a raised eyebrow, "...Why arn't you shorter?" For how sick he's feeling right now, that's a fairly quick retort.
Jh'or shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he watches, "Hey, if you spot kids Impressing and I miss it, kick me or something, kay?" he asks of Shimshon. No sooner said than the greenrider's off to collect a vintner lad and a green, "Shristeth? C'mon along sweetie.. yes, I know you're starving. Meat is over this way." he nudges the new pair off towards a corner of the sands.
Lirit turns lightly pink as Jasia reprimands her, "Sorry... I'm nervous! I'm... green! It's a green! And did--oh he did, good for... I forget his name." Lirit's eyes follow the vintner and that vivid emerald green he's Impressed as they trail off the sands. Beam.
Pearl squeaks at the Jump Magic Jump egg. "Ohh, I spent the longest time on that one at the Egg Touching I went to. Shristeth..." she trails off. She's too fixated on the eggs to be nervous, for now, but she'll remember to be nervous soon enough. Trust Pearl to remember.
Shimshon points at the one who just impressed, "There's one." He smirks at Jo, "So long as you're tween me and them..."
Lilias watches the green closely as it hatches and then choses, looking away only so she can bend over a little and scratch at the tichy patch the sand she scuffed up earlier has caused on her leg.
Fadra bobs up and down in nervous anticipation. She's twining her fingers together, looking around, casting smiles that she hopes are comforting but come across more tense and nearly-panicky than anything else. "D'they have t'hatch *now*?" she inquires quietly, nearly squeaking as she does; she doesn't, however, expect and answer, and so returns to twiddling her fingers again, staring at them.
Jasia looks to C'ralt, eyes narrowing in thought, before a faintly self-satisfied expression crosses her tanned features. "Eh. Because if I were any shorter, hunter-lad, I'd be hard-pressed to see over my brother's head. Can't have that happening, not when he's younger than I am." That's said casually, and her tone remains the same as she adds for Lirit, "You don't look much green to me."
Guilty Burial Egg gives a sudden start of motion, knocking against another egg that has been resting almost against it for the last few hours. There's a cracking noise and yet no sign of breakage follows in the peaceful moment that follow the collision.
Balinne juts out a finger, pointing at the newly Impressed green. "Green! The first was a green! Is that lucky, or unlucky?" she asks curiously, turning towards Winnit and then Pearl. "Doesn't really matter..." and she trails off as the rocking eggs capture her attention. "You're doing better, Pearl," she remarks after a moment.
Lirit snickers at Jasia as her attention returns to the sands nearer herself. "You're probably right. If I was green, I'd be in trouble with the coordinators! Can't wear green on the sands... eep! That was *loud*." this as the eggs collide. "Eesh."
Jillah ignores Jasia's poking and prodding at her companions. She simply flings a slight smile Jasia's way, then leans towards Lirit for a moment, Jillah-bolster style. As the eggs keep bouncing and hopping like drunk sailors trying their best to dance, she says, "At least it's fast..."
Birthed From Fire Egg wobbles heavily, its horizontal position on the mound making it lurch madly over the slight lip of the mound to roll with an inelegant stagger to nestle, once more safely at peace, at the foot of the mound.
Pearl squashes herself against Balinne as she suddenly remembers her former panic. She presses against her as hard as she can, as if the contact is some kind of soothing balm, and perhaps it is, because her breathing regularizes after the brief episode. She gives nary a thought to how the contact may make Balinne feel.
Winnit's head whip about at all the commotion, catching sight of the newly hatched dragon and her face twists in disgust, "Ugh...are they always so...gooey?" Sure, it didn't bother her when the kid got sick on her earlier in the day, but throw a little egg goo into the situation and she's looking nauseated al over again.
Dairyn shifts his feet for more reason then the shoddy sandals, almost hoping inwardly that for every other person that impresses that's one less that's going to find it's way over to him. On the other hand, he's thrilled to be watching it and he's got no idea why. "Mmm... If I was taller i'd have to bend over to talk to you." And now all efforts at conversation are completely forgotten, as his eyes intently watch the Birthed From Fire egg lurching around without any type of coordination.
The Birthed from Fire Egg is utterly still for a long moment as a power builds within its confines. The growing might of the hidden inmate finally causes movement and the egg rumbles as the forces of nature prove too much to sustain. A veritable eruption of cracks sends a cascade of shards raining down to the dark sands below. The occupant bursts forth with eager energy, leaving a miniature mountain range of shell in his wake.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling
The craggy profile is an ocherous brown, the color of freshly-turned earth spilling over a brawny torso in barrows of shade. Burly and bold of figure, his limbs are less elegant than resilient, form following function in this incarnation. The steeply angled shoulders deepen into loam, broad as a mountain range, while infrequent patches of rocky granite cap the jagged ridgeline of his neck. Russet fire spills backwards from the bluntly wedged head, rugged features limned in a ruddy profusion before being shadowed by earthen shades. The tilt of neck is roughly shaped, no fine elongation but a surplus of muscled strength blending into the sinewy shoulders and the gauche bulk of a sedimentary barrel. The wide span of his wings is a panorama of specks and flecks, an aggregate of gravels and oaks that are rimmed by foothills of musculature at their powerful base. The hindquarters are a proud amalgam of bald-faced granite and swarthy lager, the rich brown hue seeping in a good-natured spill over the rock-like dimensions of his haunches. Flinty talons tip the end of blunt limbs, their axe-like curve a hazardous beauty of blue-gray color. He is a rough-hewn shape from weathered muzzle to harshly delineated tailtip.
Balinne squeaks, jumping in surprise as Pearl grabs her. "Pearl, Pearl! You're crushing me!" she squeaks against the other candidate, struggling a bit to be released. "It's /ok/ they won't hurt you!"
Jasia, finally, bestows a searching glance upon the eggs as they collide, but her attention wavers soon after. "Shards, it's hot out here," she mutters to one and all, and though the brown does receive an approving look, she seems more interested in studying her sandals and their lack of thickness.
Jh'or is kept busy, but he finds time to swing back in a lull and 'protect' Shimshon from the hatchings, "Shards, mebbe two drinks after all this running around."
Fadra shifts from foot to foot, nervously. "Oh," she says weakly.
Moyra scans the eggs, and then over to Winnit, "Well, good thing I didn't say, as I'd lost that bet." She says, glancing at the new hatchling as he makes his appearance, and she grins, "A second one already. This might not last too long at all." She notes to her friend, starting the customary two step caused by the sands, though she doesn't seem to notice it that much.
Lirit leans for a second into Jillah, cling and cling alike, feet shifting only so much and stirring sand beneath her. One foot, two foot, this foot, blink. "Ooooh! It hatched. And it's a brown!" Gone is that fiery shell and in it's place is another hatchling to watch.
Jillah falls into a statue-like frozen pose, eyes on the newly hatched brown. "Now look at that, now that's...that's beautiful." Only her eyes move, tracking it, lingering with an almost weighty appreciation, as if she strokes mental fingers just above a slick hide.
Shimshon hehs and drawls, sarcastically, "I feel so lucky to have a big strong you to protect me, Jo."
Pearl immediately steps away from Balinne in excitement at the brown. She squeaks in a shrill tone, "Look! It's a brown! My favorite color, 'Linne! My sister Aislinn Impressed one! But this one's real pretty."
Lilias's itch seems to be annoying her mofe, though this time she uses her other foot to scratch it and succeeds in making it worse. "Green and brown." is muttered quietly to her companion, "And a ton to still go. Wish they'd hurry up so I can get off of here."
Balinne chokes a bit as Pearl releases her. She takes a few gulps of air, shaking her head and composing herself before following the gaze. Something Winnit says comes back to her, and she nods. "I hate the gooeyness too. Oh, what a nice brown! He is pretty, Pearl."
Kylia runs fingers through her hair as eggs start a crackin, a smile touching her lip as the green so quickly finds her match. She nods a congratulations as the lad walks off, then turns to survey this brown. "He's a fine looking brown, I'd say."
Elias shifts his feet slowly on the sands, grimacing at the heat beneath them. He looks at the green for the barest moment before it finds its mate, then eyes the brown perhaps a touch curiously and hopefully. "Might not last all that long." He agrees absently, eyes following the newest hatchling.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling stands a moment in self-satisfied triumph, shaking a stubby tree-trunk of a leg back at the sodden pile of his former abode, sending sand scattering over the mountain of pieces. Ha! Take that, vile prison! The broad wedge of russet-red muzzle tilts back to the front, the raucous roar of his surroundings pulling at his attention. A confused and slightly worried squeak erupts at the sheer mass of beady-eyed things looking at him expectantly. It's a treasure hunt, perhaps? Diving into the unknown, he advances towards the mob curiously, gawky extremities moving in discombobulated strides.
Dairyn watches the Brown not with excitement now, but an oddly detached curiosity and a deep sense of nervousness that makes him draw in another breath and shift his feet even more. "I could have sworn that was a Bronze egg... I guess you really /can't/ tell." Yeah, everyone says that but you never realise it until you've actually stood and watched them Hatch.
Guilty Burial Egg lays still for quite a while as some of the eggs around it start to twitch and pop. The egg must have been gathering strength because this time it almost leaves the surface of the sands as it flips and then hops a few paces from its point of origin. A small, hairline fracture starts to form around one end, breaking the vista of color with a whitish hue.
Winnit looks past Balinne to Pearl again, brow furrowed slightly, "Be careful. Its enough to worry about the dragons without worrying that Balinne will be strangled as well." Betting, though, nabs her attention and she wonders of Moyra, "Which did you bet on, then?" Small talk does wonders for taking her out of the situation she finds herself in, the hot, sweaty, gooeyness of it.
Pearl awwws at the brown. "Poor thing, he looks so intimidated! I do wish I could be less scary for him. You think I'm scaring him, 'Linne?" After a moment's reflection, she decides, "Naah, it's Dairyn who's scaring him, doubtless."
Balinne shakes her head slowly, her eyes on the wandering dragon with a hint of suspicion. "No, Pearl, I don't think you're worrying 'im. I think he's more concerned with finding his bond. Breath! And I'm OK, Winnit, it's alright," she flashes a smile at the Bitran.
The green that emerges from the crystalline beauty of the Masked Purity Egg is colored in a striking contrast of deep, emerald shades and pale lichen hued froth. Stepping carefully from her shells, the young dragon takes her time as she moves and manages to minimize the awkwardness of her newly hatched limbs. Times goes by, and the small green seems to have trouble choosing as she looks from first one candidate and then another and makes occasional noises of dissatisfaction. At last Tressinda, a bossy brunette who started life at Southern Boll, meets the eyes of the hatchling at the very moment that she opens her mouth to announce loudly, "I've had enough of that finicky Neissanth. Ooooh. Neissanth." The girl throws her hands around the neck of the green in a loving embrace and then the pair proceed off the sands, already fussing over each other.
Dairyn suddenly casts his nerves away in indignation, "I can't help it if I make dragons nervous! Besides, that Brown isn't nervous... he's just exploring around." At least that's the Hunter-lad's take on it, though on second glance he realises he's probably wrong. Oh well, what are you going to do about it?
Jh'or's reply to Shimshon is postponed by another new greenriding pair, "C'mon Tressinda.. lovey duvy Neissanth over this way." he hustles them in the right direction.
Lirit starts to giggle in Dairyn's direction, "I'm just glad it's not *me* who makes dragons nervous Dairyn. And... wow. that's a pretty one!" this for the emerald and lichen green finding her mate in Tressinda. "Good for her."
Jasia experiments with the warmth of the sands. She attempts to roll up her sleeves, hands rubbing at bare arms only to find that this robe /has/ no sleeves. That established, she begins to high-step to ease the heat on her feet -- and in doing so, she slides just a few more steps behind Dairyn, her brows furrowing into lines as she does.
From afar, to Kylia and Meika, Lirit snugs! hi!
Guilty Burial Egg rolls, end over end, down a small hill in the sand and finally comes to rest right next to a small cluster of candidates. The egg is now shaking violently as the dragon inside struggles for its freedom. The crack on one end seems to brighten and is joined by a fracture that runs perpendicular.
Jillah remarks, in a deliberately calm manner, "I can't keep track. So...I think I'll just stand here and look straight ahead, well, maybe to the side now and then. Shove me if I'm about to get run over, will you?" Shimshon drifts M'rek-wards as Jo keeps abandoning him.
The Guilty Burial Egg suddenly cracks with a sound like that of a whip through the air, brown and khaki falling away to crumble on black Istan sands. What was once a gnawed and abandoned bit of rubbish is brushed aside to reveal a hidden treasure. Left behind is a hatchling who leaps to his feet with clear relief at having successfully navigated his way out of the confining egg.
Balinne reaches over in an attempt to find, and cling to, Winnit's hand. "This is exciting, isn't it?" she asks those around her, expression bright.
Brash Unpolished Bronze Hatchling
Darkness washes shadows' apparition over this young dragon's hide, making elusive the rusted glint of bronze beneath. In the bright light of day his color is obvious: a beautiful burnished, tawny umber from headknobs to angled tailtip, those illusatory shadows shifting and playing over his hide with each fluid movement. That color reddens to a bronzed ochre down lean limbs and the deft lines of angular wingspars, though across his ridges he's darker still, swarthy sepia settling to the tips like a blanket of fine dust. Whipcord thin and taut as a line, he seems longer than average for his spare, rugged frame, but the promise of muscle already shows in each shift of wings and haunch. And his face, more interesting still; for there's guile in those eyes, and adventure speaks to the light spinnerweb's tracing of ghostly pale that swaths his muzzle.
Lilias sighs slightly, "And a green and a bronze and... ugh, did you just..." She shudders and sidles along the line a little away from her former companion and his newly acquired bad smell.
Pearl leans on the outside edges of her feet, hoping to thus relieve the pain of the hot sands, but is too absorbed in the brown to out and out complain about her feet. She ooohs at the bronze. "Look at that gentleman there! Not sure if any of the boys are even worthy of him."
Cavernous Sanctuary Egg rustles in its small mound of black sand. The shiver of the egg is so slight, that it might well have been imagined - but then, it happens again. The egg quakes, quivering quietly a moment before another little shake causes the sands to skitter from the top edges of the mound down the sides in fear. There comes another, more sharply defined jerk and then this dark egg becomes still.
Dairyn does notice subconciously that Jasia moves closer, but then there's a part of his mind that's dedicated to that kind of thing. Concentrating on the hatching eggs to distract himself, as the Guilty Burial Egg hatches he takes a deep breath, though a quick glance is given over at the departing green. Now his attention is dripen between the Cavernous Sanctuary Egg, or the egg-that-almost-got-him-eaten-by-Essieth egg in his mind, and the newly hatched Bronze.
Moyra glances back at Winnit, doing her best to stay level and calm, and grins. "The fire egg, but that green came out first." She says, ohing softly, "A Bronze now as well." She says, watching to see where it might wind up heading.
Fadra seems, despite all her rushing, quite surprised when the dragons start spilling out. She's looking left and right, trying not to lose sight of them and trying to figure out to whom their going while still staying alert enough *not* to be run over by a hapless hatching. It's all far too fast for her, it seems.
Jillah does the pincher-hold on Dairyn's shoulder again. She tries turning him as if he were a poppet, brown-bronze, bronze-brown. "Like spin the knife a bit, isn't it, m'friend?"
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling treks ahead with the stumpy stride of the short-limbed. Clunk. Clunk. *plop* goes a goo blob. The burly frame pauses in its progress, giving a good hard shake near a quivering group of white-robed candidates, transferring the itchy globules to several people nearby. Aaah, much better! Another grating squeak emerges, tremulous demand for his path to be cleared. Honestly, you'd think they were /trying/ to stop him from completing his quest. He can sense that alluring presence, it's near, and those granite-washed wings rustle in irregular twitches of excitement.
Balinne's breath escapes her as the next egg Hatches. "There's a bronze! And I would have pegged that egg for brown. What a switch," she chatters to herself, her eyes bright. "Oh, the brown's moving!" and she's on the alert, dancing from foot to foot in excitment.
Cavernous Sanctuary Egg redoubles the apparent efforts from the one held captive within to break free of its prison, serenity of sanctuary giving way to more and more violent lurches. One such jolt causes the egg to sliiiiiiide down one side of the mound, leaving it on a diagonal slant to continue its quick-paced wriggling.
Shimshon arches an eyebrow at the bronze and moves just a wee bit more behind M'rek. He's cool, calm, collected ... and wants to be ignored by dragons.
Dairyn nods a little as he gets slightly turned, though his eyes flicker between her and the hatching dragons, "Yeah, but it's hard to rig this game of spin the knife." If only it was as easy as distracting the person and switching it around, though they've discussed ways to rig the hatching before.
Pearl looks keenly back to the brown. "It looks like he knows who he wants," she says in awe. "A brown on a mission!" Her tone is totally awestruck, but the whiteness of her knuckles on Balinne's shoulder betrays her true emotions: nerves, naturally.
Winnit glances down, noting Balinne's hand and clasps it in her own. "Exciting is putting it mildly, don't you think?" Again, her attention goes wandering over the sands, seeking to reassure herself of something or another. She mms and nods to Moyra, "Ah, I see...Well, I hope you made some other bets and get lucky with them! There's nothing wrong with turning a bit of a profit." That's her Bitran side showing through.
Jasia looks up from her feet, neck craning around Dairyn, and blinks when the bronze is noted. "Hm. ...Did any of you see which egg he came out of?" she wonders of the trio she stands by. She's got marks staked on this.
Brash Unpolished Bronze Hatchling scans the sands very quickly, taking in the lay of the land before he gathers himself together and romps towards the nearest grouping of white robes. Intrigued, he studies faces, trying to fathom the secrets each candidate conceals. After a particularly long study of a lanky lass, the bronze hatchling makes a quick turn and starts towards the next grouping of people. He seems to be moving much faster than his limbs are prepared for, and so stumbles quite frequently. He's a menace to those on the sands without meaning to be.
Lirit watches the eggs with a curious detachment, gaze going thoughtful. She periodically shifts her weight from one foot to the other in response to the hot sands, expression much more serious as the reality of the situation sinks in. On the Sands. Dragons hatching. And here she is in the middle of it.
Balinne winces slightly at Pearl's hand, but does nothing about it. She squeases Winnit's hand gently and flashes a quick smile to her. Once more, to Pearl, she remarks, "Well, they do tend to know who they want. That's why it's so fast," she reasons, her eyes flickering between brown and bronze.
Fearless Foothills Brown Hatchling totters his way through the smelly, sweaty ranks, a particularly noxious smell coming from the feet area leaving no doubt there, /that's/ not his target. Head tilts curiously left then right, examining the obstacles that surround him, still staring at him with salivating anticipation. Will everyone just stop staring at him, already? Another firm shake throws off their eyes (and some more goo), and that teasing tingle returns, luring him ahead.
Lilias's concentration is wandering and with a sigh she looks up at the stands, hand raising to rub at the back of her neck as she peers about to see if she can spot anyone she knows.
Dairyn tries to take another glance over at the charing Bronze, which actually gets a delighted smile from him because each one of the hatching Dragons have thier own distinct personality from the moment they've hatched out. "What, got some money riding on the Bronze?" Bad odds to bet on, standing here watching this whole experience now.
Jillah says, almost absently to Jasia, "The burial one, you know, the one that looks like what the pup did with Chevez' trous he left lying out loose?" She smiles at the brown's movements, and though she doesn't angle to get his attention, he's certainly got hers, eyes track-tracking.
Winnit gives a startled little sound, muffled under one hand, as she sees goo go flying from the young brown - even if it doesn't even come remotely close to her. She wrinkles her nose, relaxing when she realizes she's out of danger of getting dirty, "Gross."
Jasia watches as the brown advances, though moments later her attention moves to the galleries stretching beyond. Concentration bleeds into those narrow features -- but it fades soon after, and her head dips to Dairyn and Jillah. "I've some marks on most of the eggs. And looks like I lost on the bronze."
Balinne wrinkles her nose some, and a small shudder runs down her spine. "I have to agree, Winnit. Almost as gross as your tunic earlier," she says teasingly, a wide grin on her freckled face.
( part 2)