Log: Eggs and a Walk Around the Lake

[jekzith]

Spectators' Gallery in the Hatching Ground(#958RIJa$)
The galleries in the Hatching Grounds stretch the length of the southern wall of the cavern. Broad sweeps of stone benches provide ample seating for spectators. Above and across from here are ledges where the dragons perch to welcome new eggs and hatchlings. From your vantage point, you can see everything that happens on the sands.
Stairs to the northwest, at the end of the galleries, lead back down to the entrance to the hatching grounds. The Hatching Ground sands spread out before you to the northeast, and are accessible by another set of stairs to the north.
Contents:
E'lan(#12921PUVXce)
F'niah
Acadia
Halcyon(#18275J)
Obvious exits:
Bowl SAnds
To see which eggs, if any, are currently on the sands, type 'view eggs'
Acadia relaxes when F'niah doesn't scold her for laziness. "Ummm, would you like some candy, sirs? It's the hard suckable kind and it's pretty good."

Padraig comes in running at a full tilt, then stops right at the edge of the galleries, straightens his tunic, runs a hand through his hair, sticks his hands in his pockets and strolls -casually- up to his father. "Good evening sir, heya Acadia," he greets the others.

"I, um... sorry," Sef manages, stepping away from the brownrider, completely nonplussed by the entire scenario. He turns back to Acadia with another, "Huh, what?" before his attention's caught by the rushing-at-him Padraig. "Whoa! Don't run in the galleries!" This, at least, is something he knows, can grab on to.

E'lan just watches F'niah with an amused expression on his face. He shakes his head with mirth, then turns at the sound of a familiar voice, "Ah-HA! There's my boy!"

Acadia says, "Hey there, Paddy." She looks again at the High Reaches rider and asks her fellow Candidate, "He's your dad?"

Padraig grins F'niah's way. "Yessir," he says gravely, and he nods Acadia's way. "Yep ..." then he's moving over to give E'lan a back-thumping hug. "Papa ... what're you doing here?"

F'niah slips away from the Reachian and his son to join Acadia. "Evening," he offers as he slips into the seat next to her. "That candy offer still open?"

E'lan returns the boy's hug with a big wherhug of his own. He releases Padraig to look at him with a grin, "Came to see you, look at the eggs, see what I can remember about this place." He glances around, nodding sagely, "Lots of good memories around here. Lots of memories."

Padraig grins happily at E'lan's words. "Really?" he starts to move down the steps and finds a spot to sit in. "How're things back home?" he asks excitedly.

Acadia nods and extends the bag to F'niah. "Sure, sir. Leeana got them, but I don't know where from."

"Leeana," F'niah echoes blankly as he rummages around inside the bag. "One of the Candidates, right." He withdraws a candy to eye it, then pops it into his mouth. "You're... let me guess. Um..." The candy clicks against his teeth as he rolls it around his mouth.

E'lan follows Padraig to a seat, "Things are fine. Your mum says she'll come down as soon as she can. Giremi's been sleeping in your bed rather than his own, and your sisters miss you something terrible, but are compensating well with cookies and bubbly pies." He winks teasingly.

Acadia lips twitch, but she's not laughing at Sef. No way, not after witnessing his and Lexiana's set-to. "I'm Acadia, sir. The Miner's daughter. I've been here for a little over a turn now."

"I was going to guess," F'niah grouses with a twist to his lips. "Acadia. Well met. I'm - well, you probably know, if you've been here that long. F'niah. Saneth's." The candy clacks again; he gives the eggs a little nod. "Got a favorite?"

Padraig nods at E'lan's words, practically drinking them in. "He has? Really ... Shells ... it'll be all stinky from his feet when ... if ... err ..." he trails off, scrubs at his neck a bit then nods. "Bring any of those bubblies with you by any chance?"

E'lan snorts, "His feet? Your brother has stinky feet?" He laughs at that, shaking his head, "The things you learn. I never knew that. And no, I figured the cooks here had plenty of bubblies for you to eat. They sure did when I was a lad."

Acadia perks up an ear at the word 'bubblies'. Eavesdropping is a no-no, but so is missing free snacks. "Yes, sir, F'niah sir. I like the small one in the middle of the mound, the yellowy-brown one. Over there." She points to the Golden Dell Egg.

Padraig grins. "Sure do ... but they're not from -home-" he nods towards the eggs. "We got to touch 'em the other day. It's pretty amazing isn't it?"

F'niah obediently studies the egg Acadia's pointing at. "It's pretty enough," he agrees. "...You only need to use one sir, you know," he adds, glancing sidelong at her. "Or Wingleader, if you don't want any 'sirs' at all."

E'lan chuckles, nodding as he scans the eggs with a practiced eye, "Amazing. Get anything from any of them?" He arches his eyebrows, looking back at Padraig curiously.

Padraig shakes his head. "Nope ... just lots of really interesting color swirls," he says and nods down toward Acadia and F'niah's conversation. 'There's this blue one I really like."

Acadia blushes and says, "As you wish, Wingleader. It's hard not to say 'sir'. I guess my parents' teaching went deeper than I thought." She checks out the eggs again and asks, "Do you have a favorite too, F'niah?"

E'lan ohs, "Which one is that?" He leans on the railing, but only for a moment. His head turns towards the entrance and a frown creases his features, "Bad timing, Laz, bad timing." He turns back to Padraig, "I have to go. Duty calls. I'll come back though, and soon, alright?"

Padraig points to the egg in question, then his face falls. "Already?" He sighs, then smiles. "Yeah ... I'd like that Papa .... I miss you."

E'lan glances back over the eggs, nodding as he identifies the one Padraig favors, "Good choice, son." He turns to give the boy a hug, clapping him on the back before taking him by the shoulders to look into his eyes, "No worries, right? You just send a message if you need anything at all."

F'niah shakes his head, pauses to glance over at Padraig's comment, which lets him catch E'lan's exit announcement. "Fort's duties to the High Reaches and her queens." So it's rather belated. Better late than never, hey? He gives the brownrider a glance that lingers for only a fraction of a second before turning back to Acadia with a shake of his head. "No. Actually, I, um... this is the first time I've had the chance to come and see them. The eggs, I mean."

Acadia echoes F'niahs farewell to E'lan. "Fort's duties, sir. Are you sure you don't want to take some candy with you?"

Padraig nods. "I will Papa ..."

E'lan gives the boy one last hug and hurries out towards the bowl.
E'lan goes down the stairs to the Bowl.
E'lan has left.

Acadia picks up her precious candy bag and gets up. "It's time for me to go clean up, Wingleader. I'll see you around later?"

F'niah nods and draws his legs back under his seat, clearing the path for her. "'Course. I'll be watching when they Hatch if we don't run into each other before then."

Acadia says, "Good night, F'niah sir. Good night Paddy!" Then hurries off to bathe off the dust of the day.

Padraig waves as Acadia runs off, a cheery "Rest well!" sent after her, then he looks down at the Sands, somewhat moodily and sighs.

F'niah's attention shifts from the eggs to the sigh; a hesitation and he stands, making his way down to join the boy. "What's the sigh for?"

Padraig blinks up at the rider and shakes his head slightly. "Nothing really ... well that's not true ... I miss home s'all."

F'niah jerks his head after the departed E'lan. "You from the Reaches then? Who Searched you? ...F'niah," he adds, offering over a hand. "Saneth's."

Padraig crosses F'niah's palm with his and nods. "Yep, Reaches," he confirms. "V'yse's Adenath," he supplies and then there's also his name. "Padraig ...son of Emilly and G'rad and E'lan and Abbe," he recites the rather lengthier list than usual.

F'niah blinks once at the list, but nods. "Well met," says he, completing the exchange. "I've met your da - well, E'lan - once or twice. He retrieves his hand to link it with the other, and lean on his forearms onto the railing. "I hear you say something about liking a blue egg?" He nods toward the Swan Lake egg. "That one?"

Padraig nods. "E'lan's my Papa, G'rad's my Da," he says as if that clarifies everything, then he joins the rider in leaning on the railing and nods. "Yessir - I like the way it all swirls together."

"S'pretty," the bluerider agrees. "And did I hear you say you got t' go down for an egg touching? What'd you think?"

Padraig's head bobs up and down. "Mmm - we did and ... wow ... I mean I've seen eggs from -this- distance plenty of times before, but up close? Wow."

"They're something else," F'niah agrees, with a nod. "What do you think of that one?" He gives the Creeping Wild Egg a nod.

Padraig peers down at the Sands, at the noted egg. "I didn't actually get to look at that one up close," he says a bit sheepishly. "Mostly that blue one ... and that brown one there ... and that funny colored one over there." He indicates each egg in turn.

"And?" F'niah encourages, splitting his attention between the eggs and boy. "What did you think?"

Padraig smiles slowly. "Each one's unique ... and interesting to look at ... but differently y'know?"

F'niah nods before pushing himself off the railing, straightening to his full height. "I know. I'd better be going. Nice talking to you, Padraig. Like I told Acadia, I'll be at the Hatching, even if I don't get to see you again before."

Padraig nods. "Nice to meet you sir," returns the Candidate. "Have a good night !"

Fort Weyr Bowl, northeastern area
The Bowl of Fort Weyr, a large, featureless plain surrounded by steep mountain cliffs, stretches out before you. It is vaguely oval in shape, long from southwest to northeast; you're standing near the wall at its northern end.
Off to the northwest is the long path leading up to the Junior Queens' Weyrs, while steps to the north lead to the Weyrleader Complex. From here you can see in to the Hatching Grounds to the east, and the steps leading up to the gallery stands in the Grounds to the southeast. Stretching off to the southwest is the center of the bowl, where the Lower Caverns, Weyrling Barracks, lake and Feeding Grounds can be seen.
Obvious exits:
Center of the Bowl Weyrling Barracks Weyrleader Complex Gallery SAnds Junior Queens' Weyrs

Piper walks up from the center of the bowl.
Piper has arrived.

Padraig shuffles along, hands in pockets, head tipped up to the sky, humming softly to himself. It's an old Harper ballad - soothing and restful.

Piper picks up the tune at once as it reaches her ears, automatically, it's ingrained in her mind whether she wills it or no. And she's not nearly as awful at carrying a tune as she'd lead one to believe, managing a rather sweet and mild mezzo soprano.

Padraig looks up as he hears that voice and smiles. But he doesn't stop humming, just holds his arm out and lifts his eyebrows, an invitation to stroll around the Bowl.

As if in agreement without discussion, Piper laces her arm through her fellow candidate's, and continues through one more chorus before fading out her singing to mention, "My mom said my dad used to sing that to me when I was a baby. I don't really remember at all, but I've loved that song my whole life just the same."

Padraig smiles. "My mum used to sing it to me ... to go to sleep to ... she'd come sing it to me every night while she was a Candidate ... and then even when she was a Weyrling, no matter how tired she was."

Piper blinks, her promenade around the bowl stopping without warning, "Your mom had you before she was a candidate? I didn't know that was even allowed..." She laughs, "Though I don't know why it surprises me. You weyrfolk do things differently. March to the beat of a different drummer, if you will."

Padraig grins, one-sided. "Mmm ... so long as a babe is weaned ..." he says by way of explanation. "A different drummer ... I suppose we do at that."

Piper cocks her head to the side to inquire, "Did I ever tell you my dad's a rider? Not that I think that that makes me any more likely to Impress like some people do," do they even need to name names? "Just didn't know if I ever told you that."

Padraig shakes his head, continuing to amble along at an easy pace. "No ... you hadn't," he says straightforwardly. "Where does he ride?"

Piper resumes forward momentum, "Southern," she replies, as if it were a given, "Don't see him hardly ever. I doubt he'll even come to the hatching...I imagine your parents will be there? All of them?"

Padraig eyes his fellow Candidate closely for a moment. "Hmm, that's awfully silly of him," and then he's nodding, albeit with a hint of a worried expression. "I expect so ... Papa said they would be."

Piper shrugs up a shoulder, "My mom'll be here, and that's all that's important. At least, she said she would be. And if yours said they'd be here, I'm sure they will. That's what family's for, right?" She flashes Padraig a smile, "I managed to get most of that boot polish off, y'know."

Padraig nods. "Yep - I'll bet my sibs'll be along too ... all of 'em. Bella and Giremi and Ilyandra ... it'll be nice to see 'em again. I miss them." Then that smile is answered by a mischievous one. "I can see that yep ... mostly ... though I think you might've missed a spot ..."

"I have not!" declares Piper quickly, hands going to her face in distress, "Have I really? Where?" she demands as a bit that was left on her finger manages to dot a few prominent spots on her previously unmarred features, little smudges left in the wake of her defensiveness.

Padraig smiles and lifts his hand to dab at each of the smudges, unless she ducks away. "Here ... and here ... and here ..."

Piper looks up into those unique silvery blue eyes with concerned hazel ones and counters, "You wouldn't lie, would you? To tease me into believing I was speckled when I wasn't? When I'm not, I mean?"

Padraig meets that gaze straight on and shakes his head. "I was teasing before a little ... but not now," he says truthfully and lifts her hand, turning it over to reveal the bit of bootblack there. "It was here ... but now ..." he rubs at another spot on her cheek gently with one thumb. "Spots like a feline ..." His smile changes as he speaks, first teasing, then solemn, and finally ... something else.

Piper cringes slightly as she's confronted with the evidence that she must now be rather mussed looking, but keeps her face upturned, a slight frown of concern creating a single line betwixt her brows. "Do I look that awful?" she utters softly, "Or is it something else?"

Padraig shakes his head, "Not awful at all ... not at all ..." he says, voice pitching a bit more low than usual. "Um ... the opposite even ..." his hand stills for a moment, brushing her cheek and then he swallows rather nervously and drops his gaze, fumbling in his pocket for something. "Uh ... yeah ... I have a hanky in here somewhere ... um ... nothing a little water won't fix."

Piper isn't immune to whatever...something...passed in that moment, but neither does she comment, an unusual occurrence for the young candidate. It does, however, take her a moment to snap out of her reverie, and even when she does, it is with slight disorientation, "Water, yes, that's a good idea," she agrees pliably.

A sudden flash of white in the semi-darkness reveals Paddy's handkerchief. It's a bit the worse for wear, but seems clean enough in that lighting. "Um ... yeah .. .water ..." he says rather rapidly. "Uh ... lake water ... or uh ... yeah ..."

"Oh, I, um, don't want to get this all black and dirty, it would never come clean in the laundry," Piper says, rushing her words somewhat, "I'm sure I can just clean up in...the lake." There's a thought.

Padraig nodnodnods. "Right ... the lake then," he says and turns that way at a rather rapid clip. "It shouldn't be too cold right?"

Piper's voice attempts to inject lightness back into the conversation as she replies, "Well, this is what passes for summer here..." as she matches pace.

You make your way to the center of the bowl.
You walk toward the southwest, where the edge of the lake laps on a rocky beach.

Fort Weyr Bowl, by the lake
This long stretch of the bowl lies to the southeast of the feeding grounds. At its western end, near the wall, the ground dips down slightly to where a lake has formed. Dragons are often washed there by their riders, and both riders and their dragons often swim in the cool waters.
The fenced off portion of the bowl for the Weyr's herds is to the northwest. To the north, a small structure built against the feeding ground pens serves as the Weyr's stables. Waves gently lap the shore to the west, and the rest of the bowl lies to the northeast.
Contents:
Khanari's Training Area (KTA)(#18814Je)
Obvious exits:
Herb Garden STable Feeding Ground LAke Center of Bowl

Piper walks out along the lake shore.
Piper has arrived.

Padraig trots over to where the waves lap up against the shore and dips his handkerchief in. "Here ... um ... may I?" he inquires and looks up at her. "It's not too cold for your hands I don't think ..."

Piper stoops beside him, and dips her fingers in, confirming, "Chilly, but not too cold, at least for hands," she finds her smile to be tremulous as she ventures softly, almost like she's apprehensive, testing other waters, "You're always there to help me out. Perhaps you've got noble blood in you, m'lord."

Padraig looks over, the shade of his eyes unclear in the low light. "Indeed m'lady ... I'm honored to try ..." he says rather gravely. "As for Blood ... nay, I think not ..."

Piper leans up, raising on the balls of her feet to whisper in the vicinity of his ear, "That's just as well, I like you how you are, not all stuffy like you'd probably be if you were of the Blood." She rocks back to her heels to steady herself.

Padraig starts to smile, then blinks as she rocks back a little and reaches out a hand to help her steady herself, or catch her even.

Piper is caught and steadied. Sort of. She draws in a slow breath and murmurs, "Jays, must not have remembered dinner," seeming to fill silence with prattle for the moment, "How silly of me. I was planning to eat, you know, and then there was the whole thing about polishing the trous..."

Padraig blinks in surprise. "No dinner? Piper ..." he shakes his head a few times. "C'mon ... let's get you cleaned up and fed."

Piper shakes her head, reaching out to stay the hustle off to the living caverns or the hot springs, "You know what?" she says, her voice sounding more like her own again, "I'll be fine. And actually...I'm going to go take a little walk." She looks away so that her hair flops in her face as she again bends down to wash her face in the chilly lake water, surfacing to finish, "Got a lot on my mind," which, though said lightly, seem to be rather serious words.

Padraig looks even more concerned and not a little bit confused. "Um ... sure ... but ... weren't we walking already? " He hesitates looking at her closely, dripping hanky still held in one hand. "D'you want me to leave you be ... or ... need to talk?"

Piper moves to take her fellow candidate's hand, and inadvertently reaches for the one with the wet hanky. Smiling, she shifts to instead face Padraig, "I love walking with you," she states very firmly, "But I...just have some stuff to think about," she fishes for a smile from him with one of her own, "Just girl stuff, you know? So maybe I could catch up with you later?" Despite wet hanky, she managed to insinuate both her hands into both of his.

Padraig looks down at his hand, the wet handkerchief squooshed between her palm and his. Then he looks up and nods. "Um ... okay ..." he manages to agree, though he looks a little bit troubled, might even be wondering something along the lines of 'what did I saaaay?' but instead he just squeezes both of her hands, wringing out the hanky in the process with a sodden drip drip of water into the lake. "Girl stuff ... all right ... um ... promise? I mean ... to catch up later?"

Piper bobs her head in mute acknowledgement, and with a final wringing of the hanky hand-squeeze, she departs toward the bowl, peering over her shoulder once before she disappears into the distance.

You head back towards the center of the bowl.
You head into the Living Caverns.
You walk down the stairs, into the Inner Caverns.
You brush aside the curtain and enter the Candidates' Barracks.

Candidates Barracks(#10244RAJ$)
This large low-ceilinged cavern provides temporary housing for the Weyr's Candidates. Various tapestries hang from the walls, lending an air of color and cheefulness to the dark grey walls. Neat rows of cots fill the back of the cavern, a small press at the foot of each. Numerous shelves dot the walls of the cavern. Littered with various containers and odd items, they seem to lend themselves more to firelizard perches than anything else. A few tables with chairs have been placed towards the front of the cavern, providing a place to visit or do handicrafts.
Contents:
Charlie

Padraig comes in, hands stuck in pockets - one of them rather damp and leaking a wet handkerchief. He looks rather dazed and confused as he steps over to his cot and kicks his boots off, before sitting down with a thunk and a squeak of the bedframe.

Charlie is perched precariously, crosslegged, atop her cot, the basic outline of a robe nestled in her lap as she fiddles with a needle and thread. Eyes lift as Padraig enters and she blinks a few times, before acknowledging his arrival with one word. "Padraig." And a nod.

Padraig looks up at the sound of his name and nods. "Heya Charlie," he scrubs a hand through his hair, then starts undressing for bed. "That your robe then?"

"Will be." Replies the fiery-haired candidate dryly as she finally weaves the thread through the eyelet, and begins preparing the side of the robe for stitching. This is altogether a complicated affair, her concentration noticable by the way her 'brows furrow as she attempts to mould the fabric. "What you doin'?" She asks, not looking up.

Padraig pulls off his shirt and shucks his pants, stripped down to his skivvies and socks. "Going to sleep," he says with a grin. "Say ... you look like you can do that pretty well ... think you could help me with mine?"

Charlie tosses a glare to Padraig, and shakes her head. "See Xandra. She knows how to sew. I'm really bad at it. I'll ruin your robe if you try and make me help you. I can't." She's flustered by this robe business, see. "It's a stupid thing anyway."

Padraig blinks, rather taken aback and coughs once. "Okay ... sorry - and I wouldn't -make- you ... just uh ... thought I'd ask, 'cos I'm hopeless with sewing." That said, he pulls on pajamas, ferretted out of his press, and leaves his clothes in an untidy heap on top of the press. He slips under the covers and lies back, staring up at the ceiling. "G'night Charlie ..." he offers up that way and shutters the glow basket nearest his cot. It's not long before he's snoring away and keeping some of the others awake.