Exile Hatching, Part 2
Location: Heated Sands Islet
Time: Late Morning on Day 6, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: So Many!
Scene: The exiles have a hatching. Oh boy.
Calren has not evinced much empathic ability, but his stomach growls along with some hatchlings'. Could just be the mention of food. Distracted, he looks aside. No food on the sands, right? Just checking.
Gananye hasn't managed to shake the boy still holding on to her for dear life. And now sand has stuck to the varying slobber points on her robe from the lad's ministrations. Not pleasant. She eyes the blue wistfully for a moment, "Nice coloring on him. - Oh look," she tells the boy, "I think that green may be coming for you."
Ramalla nods quickly as the bronze impresses, the look on her face clearly saying she expected that to happen or something. With the green and blue on the move, Ramalla is torn between trying to watch them both while watching the way the others act around her.
Laemont finally gives up on hiding behind people when the young man who was his more recent shield actually steps on his foot, wincing and hisisng and almost falling over sideways. He shuffles to the side, inadvertantly kicking a bit of hot sand up one of his pantsleg with a hushed chanting of select curses. Pushing his hair out of his face once more, smoothing it back in an attempt to keep it from spiking, he stands with his hands on his head and his hips canted forward slightly, just watching everyone move - or not move - around him, the flux and flow of hatchlings and people responding to them.
Nenuith hunkers down and eyes this bronze Impression through blue-faceted eyes. A deep guttural noise emits, not altogether pleased but not dismissive either. Instead, she appears curious and drops her neck far enough to be able to see more closely who her son has chosen. "It's not so strange," Diya notes aloud, though a few incautious steps bring her away from the gold's back haunches up front to caress the underside of that massive maw. "And-," but worry frets again along her brow at the continual hatching of baby dragonet, her gaze then shifting to the reserve piles of food there are for them.
Islay doesn't seem overly surprised that none of the hatchlings are heading her way, but one of the blues does seem to be eyeing the candidate to her side. So, with a little urging, she nudges the boy forward. "Gwan, get out there an' find yer lifemate, if'n y'can," she tells them. If she can't Impress, at lest a few of them might.
Daurian's attention splits, long enough to take stock of the green that's taking stock of males. He shifts with unease, shooting another look over his shoulder to where he can clearly spot his father. His features tighten again before he looks back to the sands and almost pointedly ignores the green.
Padian raises his head and looks at J'lor, that same, stupid grin still vivid. "Feast!" He says in a chirp, an arm almost naturally slung around Rodhaketh's neck as they're directed. And follow. Oh, right. There we go! "This way, this way.. Feasting time.." Padi guides himself and the perky bronze toward the area set aside.. Beam!
"Thirty-six?" Shanti answeres, tone distracted as she looks back to the little green as she circles the group, and then to the remaining eggs to quickly go over them in her head. Other hand free, it reaches across her front to give one of Riseli's hands onher arm a reassuring squeeze as the chaos swirls around them.
The little green head pokes through first, gasping for breath while the rest of her remains curled in the shell. Not for long. With a heave and a loud cry of protest against her imprisonment, the green pushes her egg apart and scrambles upright, bracing her legs defiantly while she looks over the candidates. After a moment or two, the orchid blossom green takes a stiff, awkward step, and warily begins her search.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling --
Although lithe and small, something about this hatchling strikes of a more bracing character than the typical dainty green. A slim nose brushes out into a wide jaw and large, gleaming eyes overset by the slanted stroke of heavy eyeridges. These last scroll back all the way to the line of ridges running down her spine, ridges which raise so high and to such long points that they look almost like stylized waves. Her hide reinforces the idea, washed in a green so deep and murky it approaches oceanic teal. That color lessens only for the fine, long arches of her claws, a mild and milky jade at odds with the fierce way she holds them ever-flexed as though to grab hold of Pern itself. Already she has the muscles to back it up, heavy shoulders, broad quarters and a firm, braced stance. Yet, though poised for it, she is not wholly built for aggression, with a slim chest and slender belly that slopes up gently to her flank.
Laivok shakes his head and sighs to himself as the bronze leaves with someone and looks around again, shifting. Fewer and fewr eggs and hatchlings. Less chances of him Impressing. He seems a little nervous. Odd for the guard, but he tries to cover it and doesn't speak much.
Aivey shifts; unease and impatience play equal parts in the cause. Staunchly, she falls still and remains that way, the only movement from her corner is that of her eyes as she continues watching, splitting her attention between the greens and blue on the sands to the eggs that remain.
The sun and shadows green continues her search slowly. Each person she encounters must be studied. She croons hopefully, faceted eyes looking from one face to the next, tearing herself away from each person apologetically and reluctantly. Until she arrives before a long, lean girl. There she stops, her sounds becoming joyous as she nearly wraps her body around Shanti's legs and impression is made.
Ramalla turns to watch the progression of the one green, watching her move right up to Shanti. "There's another one I could have bet on." she murmurs again as her hands clasp together before her.
The sands are awfully crowded to Calren's mind, what with the dragons and people. Thankfully, things seem to move on at a good clip. He still watches with a furrowed brow, however; there's hatchlings to look out for. There are stories, after all, of occasional violence. Thus, he shifts from foot to foot warily.
Glittering Lights Blue Hatchling moves about the sands as though he owns them, slinking by boys and girls with a smooth sort of charm. It's as though he's nodding to them each, a wink in the swirl of his eyes, a bounce in his step. All the while, his tail ticks from one side to the other - just the tip - with a syncopated sort of rhthym. A-one and a-two and a three four five and a sliiiiiiiide, whoops! That slip through the sand was totally intentional. Just ignore him while he makes sure those feet are under him again. There's a flick of his wings, like a man straightening his jacket collar, before he's on the prowl again, tail ticking all the while.
Gananye scolds the boy hanging onto her. "Don't step on his foot," she darts a look back to Laemont, half apologetic and half irritated. Whatever apology she makes is lost in the boy pulling her abruptly sideways, pointing as Shanti impresses. His urgent words to his 'keeper' are lost as Nye waves a hand at him, pointing back out to the rocking eggs.
With Nenuith settled, this far into the hatching, Diya makes efforts to move even further. The absentminded scritch to the bottom of the gold's jaw segues into a fond pat and then drifts off, back to her side, and the goldrider paces a few steps away to stand off even further to the side, near an out of the way corner.
Laemont just smiles slightly back at Gananye with a sense of understanding only to blink and rock back on his heels to look as Shanti winds up with something green around her legs. While his first thought is that she might be getting mauled, he breathes a faint sigh of relief then blinks in surprise when he realizes that she's Impressing.
Radiance. There is no other word to describe the expression on Shanti's face as the dragonet claims her, curling about her legs as Riseli has her arms; her two loves both there. But one has to be left, for the moment, while the other is attendedto and Shanti is soon reaching down for her new weyrmate. "Toth." She says,and it's a tasting of the name on her tongue, a slow and sensual experience of first speaking it. Disentangling from them both, a half-apologetic smile is given to the now-alone Riseli before she is moving with the dragonet to the area the impressees are being ushered to.
Cassiel continues to shuttle back and forth between the corner and the rest of the sands, though she pauses with a yelp as a newly impressed brownrider starts to look as though he's going to dump the entire bowl of food into his lifemate's mouth. "No no no no," she says quickly. "I /know/ he's hungry, but you're supposed to be the thinking and sensible part of this bond, remember," she says with a wan smile. "Slow."
Daurian lifts a hand to quickly brush away the sweat gathering on his brow. He notes the impression of one green with a faint smile and a relieved exhalation before pulling in another breath and holding it. One green and a blue remain on the sands, Daurian now watches both with close scrutiny.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling keeps her distance, even while she's scanning the candidates. She moves stiff-legged several paces away from them, watching them from with one eye as she moves down the line of them with low, slinking steps. It's as much aggression as it is anxiousness, and when one candidates seems to step forward to her, she quickens her pace and scampers away with a quick warning snap of her jaws.
Oh there is food. There is food galore. Seventy five stolen sheep can, at least, feed hatchlings on hatching day. Especially when supplemented with a hearty helping of fish. J'lor moves carefully to make his way to the newest pair. Shanti and her green. "Congratulations, my dear. Follow me this way and we'll get her fed and oiled if her skin begins to itch." He begins to guide them towards the otehr hatchlings and neo-riders.
One of the eggs that was still only moments before, rocks once sharply. A second forceful jerk sends the egg rolling down the mound at an alarming pace and landing on the sands proper with enough force to shatter the shell completely. In its place is a brown hatchling, flat on his belly, legs akimbo. He raises his head, shakes it, and begins to try and get up onto his feet.
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling --
A plain sort of brown of average length, he already shows slightly heavier musculature than most of his color. He is blunt curves and rounded edges. Not roly-poly, but certainly not lean or pointed. His is the warm shade of tanned leather, deep and consistent. At joints, headknobs, elbows, and knees, the color lightens as if his hide was faded and weather-worn in these places. Across a deep chest and along thick limbs, the overall brown shade darkens just a little more. Over blunted spinal ridges, thick shoulders, broad back and short tail, a touch paler. When his wings are fully spread, wingsails are shown to be the same warm shade as the rest of his body with lighter and erratic fissures of color streaking across them. The pattern resembles the cracks and creases in well-worn leather.
Riseli is... left. The look on her face is primarily shock, and then betrayal, as Shanti leaves for the dragonet. She manages a forced smile, and a soft, "Congradulations," as the pair begin to make their way. Riseli's eyes follow them, hurt still lingering in them as Shanti leaves. But then, there are the other hatchlings to consider. With a sudden intake of breath, Riseli turns and peers outwards at the other dragonets, her face a mask.
Laivok blinks and watches as more leave with little dragons and he watches the dwindling eggs and hatchings, focusing on them and watches as a brown emerges and he smiles then. Hope. He glances at the Blue as well. Hoping that one will like him, he edges forward just a little, watching more and shifting from side to side.
"That," Calren says, abruptly, "is a good color." Figures the Tanner approves of the newly-hatched brown. He gives a single approving nod, then settles his stance in the shifty sands once more, his gaze roaming over candidate and hatchling alike with little discrimination. He focuses on Riseli a moment, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, before moving on to look elsewhere.
Gananye finally manages to shake her other lamprey. A brown finds him, and the boy leaves in stunned silence for the food on the edges of the sands. With a relieved sigh, Nye brushes absently at her robes, grimacing at the sand and muck on them. Gah. Spying Riseli alone she maneuvers over in that direction assuring her, "Should be over soon." No compassion to the stolen holder boys, but to this teenager now standing alone? Go fig.
Aivey, having very little to do but wait and watch, continues to do so. Both shoulders are a little stiffer, a little straighter though she otherwise remains the same as she was upon first stepping on the hatching area.
Laemont takes a small step forward when that other candidate steps towards the green, his breath catching at the possibility of violence on the sands. Note that this isn't out of interest in it so much as concerned anticipation of the possibility. He drops his hands from his head and breathes a relieved sigh when the candidate comes away from it with all of their limbs and proper organs, shoulders relaxing just in time for him to get a bit nervous once more when another egg hatches and deposits a brown onto the sand.
The glittering lights blue shuffles his way across the sands, a self-assured lift to his wings, a graceful confidence in his movement that makes his hatchling stumbles endearing. The boys on the sands are considered with good-natured curiosity, each granted his time, before he pauses in front of a lean strawberry blond boy. His tail ticks, regular as a metronome, nodding his hatchling head in rhthym for a long moment before he slides to Laemont's side, his wing rising behind the boy like an arm over shoulders.
Ramalla giggles softly as she watches the blue more then the green, then the new brown. "He reminds me of someone...can't place it.." An encouraging smile is sent in Riseli's direction before it's back to hatchling and egg watching as the number of unhatched eggs dwindles and the blue impresses.
Riseli shakes her head, answering Gananye in words only. "It doesn't matter," she says, eyes never leaving the dragons. "Might as well take the distraction from chores, right?" but there's no cheer, not even a false one, to back up her words.
Certain that she'll go unnoticed, Islay begins to slip away, moving toward the sidelines. She recognizes Aivey, and doesn't head in that direction, merely wanders toward the sidelines, heading away from the candidates still on the sands. If nothing else, maybe she can be of help with getting supplies ready for the newly Impressed. So, toward there she heads, watching her step and being careful not to get in the way of hatchlings of candidates. When Laemont is chosen, she can't help but smile. This is good. Maybe the harper won't seem so sad now.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling dances lightly away from the candidates as she reaches the end of the line, nimble already on her baby feet. Turning a full 180, she looks back at the line of candidates she just passed, taking a deep breath and gearing herself up. It all pours out in a snarl, bucking herself up before she dashes madly back down the line, less searching than simply accomplishing: she /must/ do these rounds of the candidates. Must get this done.
Daurian, upon the arrival of the brown to the sands, deposits his attention upon him. He shifts, trying to jockey himself into a better position to be seen, or to at least attract the attention of a dragon out on the sands. Another furitive look in M'uri's direction finds the young man fidgetting for several long moments.
Cassiel squints at Islay as she starts to move away from the rest of the candidates, changing course to cut the girl off at the pass. "Hatching isn't over, girl," she says, making a shooing motion towards the rest of the candidates. "I don't need someone getting injured because some dragon was looking for you while you wandered away. Back to the line."
Gananye glances aside at Riseli for a long moment, lips twisting wryly. "Well, if Nenuith stays, this won't be the last hatching for you, I'm sure." Her voice is low enough not to carry far over the chaos of the dragonets and eggs. "And there's still eggs out there."
What with candidates-turned-riders peeling away and moving away from the hatching sands (im)proper, Calren is forced to step up into the gap left behind. There's a bit more breathing room, if nothing else. Unfolding his arms, he slides his hands along his trousers, then tucks them into his pockets.
Diya can try, but finds it terribly difficult to overhear conversations with the clambering of thirty-six minus the Impressed on the sands. Instead, from the corner she's selected, she watches the back of a slight, pretty, dark-haired girl with no small amount of interest.
Riseli snorts, a sort of sarcastic laugh. "Eggs? I don't /want/ an egg! I didn't want to be out here... but it doesn't really matter," she says again, shaking her head to flip hair out of her eyes. She turns to give a wry sort of smile at Gananye. "It's Shanti s'all." But then she hushes on the matter, and just shrugs. "Come what may."
Caught! Islay drops her head, then looks back up at Cassiel. "Yes'm," she replies, moving a few steps forward until she's at least more or less back in line. "Ain't none o'them baby dragons gonna wanna runt like me," she murmurs, and her eyes search the crowd around them. Yep, there's her father, and judging from the frown on his face, he's not happy to see her out there. Well, shells! Islay draws herself up to her full (lack of) height, and squares her shoulders. She'll stand, all right. Just to ... well, show Layen she can.
Laemont is simply standing, looking out over the sands with that sense of nervous curiosity when he suddenly feels something brush against him from behind. He turns, expecting to find another candidate shuffling behind him, someone fleeing notice the way he has been trying to do. He is momentarily shocked to find a distinctly non-human figure by his side, but then his eyes go blank and his shocked expression smoothes into something almost thoughtful. Lips twitch into a faint grin, and Laemont's - er, L'mon's - hands lift, a bit shakily, to rest on the sapphiric dragonet's shoulders, "A-ah, Manierath..." He turns his head, looking for the stuff that you feed to dragonets after they say stuff to your brain and you give it to them and it's over there. Yes. "There," he nods in the direction of free food and peers, looking a bit shell-shocked but still managing to usher his new lifemate in that direction with some amount of confidence.
The is a moment of surprise, quiet and delighted, as the newest bluerider is registered in J'lor's mind. He makes his way over to the harper boy, grinning genuinely from ear to ear. "Well done, Laemont...ah, L'mont? L'mon? Well done, indeed. A fine color for a lifemate." A wink, from one bluerider to another, before he begins to guide the boy off to the food and oil. "This way, and you can have him fed and settled. I'll meet with you and the other new riders once the hatching is done."
Cassiel watches Islay for a moment, then nods, turning to intercept L'mon. "There we go. Congratulations," she says lightly, looking down at the cocky little blue with a faint, wry smile. "This way, kids, let's get some food in that belly. Slowly, with chewing, please."
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling makes it onto his paws, legs bending at the joints in ways the joints shouldn't, and once they're firmed up from shell-starved thinness, will not bend. In time he gets himself straightened up, wings windmilling and flapping and swirling sand all over the place in their efforts to balance him. Once he's upright he sucks in a deep breath, chest billowing, then sinking with a sigh. Such a trial to come to life in this wild crazy world full of sand and water and people. But there's something he's meant to do, something that is now his vocation, his dedication. He steps forward, wobbling. His head sweeps one way and another, taking in the crowd. Searching. He'll know what for when he finds it.
Laivok nods slowly as the blue makes a choice and focuses on the brown, watching him. He shifts more, edging forward again and glancing around. Must focus on the brown for now....
Riseli edges back, away from the dragons and towards the 'exit'. Her protection is gone, and therefore, her bravery is fast leaving as well. "We can leave as soon as it's over, right?" she confirms with Gananye, or whoever is close enough to hear and answer.
Gananye nods, mirroring Riseli's smile with her own. "Come what may." As Laemont - L'mon - is led past, she gives him a grin before looking back out at the eggs. - "I think so? Be drafted to help with the feast I imagine," is her sardonic reply.
Daurian is still fidgetting, but finally gets it undercontrol by forcibly fisting both hands at his sides. His knuckles soon turn white, but the effort is not lost. Attention fixed on the brown, the young man solidly watches his every move.
Manierath has left.
There's a sneaky egg on the sand. The tapping from within has been quiet, barely shaking the sand around it as the dragonet within weakens its defenses. And so, when it starts to shake violently, it startles the nearest candidate, sending the woman jumping back a generous step. And then the shaking pauses. No one saw that. What everyone /does/ see, however, is the sudden explosion of the egg, leaving a wary-eyed little green where it stood.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling --
Small and scrappy, this stocky little green holds herself with a pride that says she doesn't take flak from anyone. She's a pale green in color, a muted jade that shines the palest milky green over muscled shoulders and powerful haunches, the color the lightest on her wings, where the 'sails drape broad between lithe spars built for speed. Every muscle is compact and powerful, lending her a spring-wound energy that makes her petite frame seem somehow larger in presence. Her face stands out from the hard outlines of her body, round and smooth of hide, eyes large and oft-blinking. The shape of her head is gentle and curved even to her headknobs, which are oddly shorter, larger, and rounder than most.
Aivey, having really only one option out there on the sands, studies the green while she tries to make her choice. Occasionally, Aivey looks to those who aren't yet impressed, as though trying to size up what the green might be looking for herself.
Squinting against the heat and grit of the sands, Calren keeps his eyes upon the remaining eggs and little dragons. Though 'little' is somewhat relative, when the dam is right there for comparison. He lifts a hand to cover a cough, then runs his fingers through his hair, combing some back from his face. It's hot enough without the clingy strands' annoyance.
Riseli simply presses a hand to her forehead as yet another dragon appears. "Shells, will it never end?" she huffs, exasperated. She shifts, toes wiggling into the sand. At least she's used to going barefoot, hm?
Snapping and snarling, the orchid blossom green has made her way all along the candidate line and back, with still no luck. She begins to pace, impatient, and her strides become narrower by the second. Suddenly she looks up and lets out a gentle warble, settling her gaze upon one of the older candidates. Age, it seems, means nothing to this baby, who takes a few uncertain steps before falling into an all-out dash and crooning to Gananye.
Laivok blinks and shifts again, watching, leaning forward some. Hoping to Impress, but beginning to lose some of the hope as he sighs.
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling is awkward, gangly, near-stumbling with every step. He whimpers, making little irritable sounds, chittering about how hard the going is. His legs shake and his tail rudders madly to keep him on course. But he knows, it seems, his course. There's a pair of young boys, one stolen and one his new best friend, before him. He heads toward them. Directly toward them. As if... he might go through them. This possibility seems more and more likely as his head cranes up on a swaying neck, as if he's trying to see /between/ those boys at more young people waiting beyond. He stops right before the two and clacks his teeth impatiently. They... move.
Ramalla chuckles at little as a green take to Gananye, she didn't expect that at all but she's looking rather happy for both girl and green.
Complacent now, having come to terms with her eggs going to other people, Nenuith curls her tail about her body and exhales her somewhat fishy breath on those closest by. Diya continues to watch the black-haired girl in front of her, the gaze broken intermittently as she lifts her eyes to the various little ledges and the grouping of people atop the upslope.
Daurian isn't amidst the crowd where the brown is at, and it deflates him yet again. He remains hopeful, however, and continues watching; brown and whatever eggs have yet to hatch.
Gananye staggers, stepping forward instead of back. Out to meet the foe. "Falanth?" She softens, "Falanth." Heedless of the fear of the aggressive little green who has turned down others, she drapes an arm around her headknobs. "I know where to go. they've food for us over there." The austere woman turns a smile made luminous by impression onto Riseli, meeting her eyes in a swift wish of luck, before moving off with Falanth.
Calren holds his breath a moment. "Augh," he says, quietly. But not /toward/ the queen dragon, no.
Another green to see to, J'lor heads over to Gananye as he swipes at the sweat now dripping down his brow. It's hot anyhow, and the these burning sanda make it worse. "Congratulations, Gananye. This way, good, you know where you're headed. Let's get her belly filled, hmm? You'll have no peace until you do."
Gananye turns a bright, near burning gaze on J'lor and nods. "Yes, /sir/." Ushering Falanth over towards the food and the other new weyrlings.
Riseli is not nearly as shocked as she was the first time. An aggressive green coming in her direction did have her going for a moment, and its a sigh of relief that emits from her mouth. Staring death in the face with that one. She does manage a small nod of her head, and tiny smile towards Gananye. But now she is once more without a shield. "At least it's almost over, right?" she says, ignoring the fact that whomever she's speaking to is likely not to hear her.
Laivok blinks and nods. More Impressions. He edges towards the brown a little and watches him look at the boys. Hoping and sighs. He glances around then and notices much fewer candidates and blinks, shaking his head a little.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling tips her head up, peering around the candidates left closest to her with a rather suspicious, considering gaze. After a moment, she leaps up to her feet, rushing towards the invisible line where eggs stop and candidates begin to peer at them more. Slowly, she gives one wing a stretch, and then the other, sticking her nose forward and her tail back until she's stretched out entirely.
The worn leather brown hatchling wends his way around the boys on the sands, eyes tinged the red of distress. He creels unhappily until his attention falls onto a tall and muscular man. Aimless wandering has sudden purpose as the little brown scrambles towards his choice. The red melts away into cool blue as the hatchling lowers his head until his chin rests on Laivok's feet. Faceted eyes close as the bond is sealed.
Islay watches the dragons meet their lifemates, and it does bring a smile to her lips. She's not agitated or even upset that none of them have come even close to her -- save that one bronze, but she already knew that was a mistake! -- and there's a bit of softness about her now. At least she knows some of those she knows -- as well as a few of the kidnapped boys -- are happier now. And, her smile widens as Laivok finds his brown. That should make a few people happy.
Daurian will not worry. He simply will not. Though the brown impresses, and the green is left behind, he will not worry. His fists clench tighter as he looks back to the remaining eggs. Trying, however much in vain, to ignore that green.
Laivok blinks in suprise then. "Benreth." Genuine suprise is on his face as he smiles even more. as he touches the brown. "Wow..."
One of the larger eggs begins a slight rocking motion that grows until it is bobbing side to side with enough force to push it free of the mound and send it, end over end, rolling down and onto the sands. It lands with a muffled crunch, and a spinner's web of fine cracks spreads along the whole of it. At the weakest point, a nose pushes through, dark and slick with egg fluids. Nostrils flare wide and squeeze shut several times before the muzzle withdraws and pushes forward again. A head follows, neck and body appearing soon after. Carefully, the slim little bronze manages to step his way onto the sands, leaving the husk of his eggshell still mostly complete.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling --
Long, lean, and svelte, there is a refined sort of power promised in this bronze's aesthetic and motions. He will be larger, but more narrow than many of his kin, and his outline has a sort of stretched appearance, as if his image was drawn onto fabric, and that fabric was just very gently pulled. His coloring is layered in overtones of blue and green that ripple through the dark-hued bronze. A near-black muzzle lightens into a green tinge that begins near large oval eyes and slides down his neck. It crescendos into a bright blaze that is very nearly blue at his shoulders, before ebbing back into proper, coppery green, then that dark night sheen again. The pattern repeats itself down his sides, over his flanks, and along his tail. When wings are spread, wingsails are deep and smokey, like the start of true darkness after the last tinge of daylight fades.
Aivey keeps watching the green, even come Laivok's impression to the brown. Though she doesn't quite look wistful to have the creature head her way, she doesn't take her eyes off it either.
The bluerider offers a gentle smile to Shanti as her companions leave with hatchlings, but then there is a brown and his new rider to assist and J'lor makes his way there. "This way, L'vok. Will it be L'vok? Follow the others and get him fed and oiled."
L'vok nods slowly at J'lor, absently hearing him, "Yes, it's L'vok..." A smile as he caresses the brown and guides him over to where the others are.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling contracts with a bit of a snap, turning to start to sneak past that invisible line, taking a good look around. She seems less interested in the candidates at this point than she is in everything around herself, even looking up towards the sky as though she expects attack at any moment. For a brief moment, she turns to look back at her shattered cell, huffing out a heavy breath. There's no hiding back in there. Determined, then, she turns back to the candidates, looking them over intently.
Riseli shifts her weight from side to side. Not due to heat, as her feet are almost burried in sand, but likely due to nerves. The crowd is thinking, and she's left largely vulnerable. She considers the new bronze with mild amusement, and murmers something under her breath.
More folks leave the sands, and that's good; it means things are winding down. Unfortunately, it leaves Calren exposed as well. With a resigned air he waits out the rest of the event, tensing up still more.
Ramalla watches the brown impress before moving to watch the newest bronze and the green still out there.
Cassiel finally gets a chance to catch her breath, dragging a hand through her hair before eyeing the remaining hatchlings and candidates on the sands. A few more would-be stragglers - including a few of Derek's men - are cut off by the greenrider and herded back to the line.
Daurian's tense features crack with the slightest showing of relief as an egg hatches to reveal a suitable choice for /him/. The young man goes through the routine again: straightening his shoulders, shuffling a step ahead of the line he's with and fixing his attention on the sole male hatchling left on the sands.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling doesn't move. Stepping free from an egg is one thing, but...walking? Legs tremble just slightly, but knees and elbows lock to hide the motion. The hatchling's head is low, egg slime dribbling from his nose and sides as his tail twitches once. A wing lifts, spreads, retracts. The other does the same. Then both appendages are pulled in close to his body and, wobbling, the young bronze stares down at the sand around his talons.
The little fighter green is clearly not one to waste her time. After dismissing a line of candidates, she marches determinedly towards a plain girl with curly brown hair and dark eyes, drawing up to inspect her critically, head tipped to one side. She's tense, sharp, then suddenly croons, pushing her head up against Riseli's thigh and moving in close. Ralkoth, that is.
Ramalla claps her hands softly together as the stocky green moves and claims Riseli for her own. "Now that is a good pairing, that green'll surely do wonders for that girl."
Aivey watches the green impress and purses her lips before looking to the bronze. Those males that are left are sized up in much the same manner as she'd done earlier. Again, she waits though there's a tension along her jaw that hints at impatience.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling blinks slowly, several time. Red-tinged eyes swirl at an increased pace as the sand is studied so long that the bronze risks tipping forward completely. His tail lashes out and he rectifies the balance problem without actually paying attention to any of the candidates immediately. Slowly, his head lifts. Slowly he begins to observe the lower torsos of those present on the sands. There is a long careful study as Calren's feet come into view and one paw lifts. Will he move forward?
Riseli starts, taking steps backwards as the determined green closes the gap. "Shoo..." she begins, but her words fall short. There's a stunned silence, and Riseli just gapes. Her face is a wave of differeing emotions, one after the other, but predominantly surprise and delight. "Ralkoth..." she murmers, loving, tender. She kneels to embrace the green, but it quickly turns into a searching look over her shoulder. "Food?"
Daurian's lips part, expelling a small puff of air he's held for far too long. His eyes close for all of a second, and when they open again, the bronze is fixed back in his sights. Absently, he might be aware of the greens impression... but the bronze remains his focus and his hope... no matter that he's before another boy now.
Another green and J'lor again finds himself before Riseli. But for a different task this time. Or, the same task. Different girl. "This way, my dear. Food and oil for her. She seems a demanding sort."
Calren draws the back of his hand across his mouth, and grimaces again. "Shardin' thirsty," he says, making it more of an observation than a grumble. Barely.
Ralkoth does indeed seem a demanding sort! Now that she's found her partner, she straightens up with regal pride, ducking her head behind Riseli to give the girl a nudge. Onwards!
The northern sky bronze has moved little, the candidates studied with red-tinged eyes as he balances carefully, wings slightly lifted and faintly spread. He seems almost unwilling to meet any gaze directly, and holds his perusal to bare feet. But then his search stops, his head lifts, and for one candidate in particular, the newborn bronze begins to make his way, careful and precise, across the sands. He is silent, and trips only once, before stopping by Daurian's feet to stare up into the boy's eyes.
D'rian's hope has paid off. The bronze he finds at his feet is greeted with another tight exhalation of air and arms that lift to quickly wrap around the dragon's neck. D'rian's PDA is short lived, for all that he rather abruptly straightens and clears his throat, a hand lightly touching the side of his dragon's neck, "Taikath," he supplies before looking toward J'lor with a tense, albeit euphoric smile.
"Taikath," J'lor repeats with a small nod. The smile for the by is small but quiet and warm. "And D'rian? D'ran? Follow me. We'll get him fed and settled." The smile tips into a smirk. "Ever M'uri couldn't ask for more, could he."
With D'rian's Impression, the last of the few eggs shatter and Impress to two boys from the mainland. Then stillness, followed by a trumpeting from Nenuith - triumph (she rose and laid eggs) tinged with just that smidgeon of mournfulness that her eggs are no longer her own. Spectators slowly begin to drift away to chatter about the hatching, though others seem less than convinced as to the state of affairs as they pin beady eyes on the voracious leeches to society.
D'rian is all business now. A solemn nod to J'lor preceeds the small smile confirming his statement. He follows the bluerider off the hatching area.
Calren ducks his head down, shoulders hunching, when Nenuith bugles her triumph -- and sorrow. It is with a wince that he rubs at his ear, and he turns to head off the sands gratefully.
Aivey is frowning by the end of the hatching. Nenuith's trumpet is her signal to head off, which, after a look at all those who remain, Aivey turns to do. An absent rub at her shoulder is all she offers as she picks her way through the crowd.
The last of the dragons and the new riders are off the shands. There is nothing now but people and eggshells and a large queen dragon. J'lor exhales slowly and looks to Cassiel. "Round up the boys from the mainland that didn't impress. I don't want them trying to creep off, could you? I'll find you in an hour. For now, I'd better..." one hand gestures to the area where the newest riders are congregated.
Quiet through most of the chaos, shrinking back from time to time as the young dragons loomed too near the slope for his comfort, Derek has on a darkly pleased expression as he step-hops his way down to the sand. It's taken him no time to speak of to recognize that it's safe here, for him, again. "Should be a feast day tomorrow," he says, in his soft, gentle, ill-fit voice, to no one in particular. Or maybe, to J'lor; it's near the bluerider the island leader stops. But his eyes, pale and beady, focus and follow the back of a young woman, a dark-haired and light-green-eyed young woman, trying to slip away. "Nera could use them for help, and keep an eye. They ought to at least get fed before we send them off."
Cassiel pauses at J'lor's words, just blinking. "You're joking, right?" she asks, brows rising. "J'lor. You're joking." She steps forward towards the man, giving him a long, steady look. "Don't even think it. What you meant to say was, round them up so they can go and have a bite to eat, it'll make them feel better, right?"
Ramalla stretches then heaves a gusty sigh as the last eggs hatch and the hatchlings impress. "That's the end of that." looking rather pleased she turns back towards the slope.
Islay's shoulders don't sag, nor does she seem particularly upset at not having Impressed, and looks for her father in the crowd. The guardsman has a smug, "I told you so" expression on his face, and that's the only reason Islay refused to be crestfallen. She gives the man a two-fingered salute, and then simply turns. Now she can walk away and not be chastised by Cassiel for slipping out of line. Her expression seems to exclaim, 'See? Told you no dragon would want a runt like me.' Question being, is she really not concerned? Or is she just a bit disappointed. Only she knows the answer to that. As she turns, she catches sight of Derek, and stops, waiting to see where he heads, so she doesn't interrupt him.
"He said what he said," Derek remarks, as if he's just musing on the notion. He catches Islay's eye, since she's looked his way. A little nod. Just a little one. Approval? A request for council in private? Just a nod.
Aivey likely knows better then to try and slip away without first seeing that it is at least acceptable, or maybe even advised. When she gets to that area of safety she turns to scan the area she's left behind. Sight of Derek and J'lor isn't missed, nor does it cause her to linger. Aivey slips down the path and away from the after-hatching preperations.
Cassiel is simply given a single, long, hard, look. "After the feast," J'lor says to her. And then he begins to move after the weyrlings but not before calling over his shoulder to Islay, "I knew a rider once. She was yea big." One hand lifts to stop and a few inches below the five foot mark. "Not everyone impresses their first time." Derek is not looked at at all.
Cassiel just eyes J'lor for a long moment, then snarls to herself before stalking off. She does, however, snag one of the kidnapped boys as she goes. Poor kid's probably even /more/ scared now.
Calren was not given an order, per se, but he eyes a group of mainland boys, and tells them, "Best stick together." He gives them a short, amiable enough nod, and then calls, "Ain't there anything t'drink 'round here?"
Islay looks at J'lor, and there's a smile for the blue rider. "Well, now we gots a queen, guess there'll be more eggs t'come, right?" She shrugs. "Ain't no big thing, an' I'm more use catchin' fish t'feed 'em, I think. Can't ever'body do th' same thing," she says, glancing over at another one left behind on the sands. Calren. She offers a nod and an almost jovial grin. "I gots water in th' boat. Let's get these kids back t'camp an' then we'll sort ever'thin' out." The large gold dragon is given a long look, and a nod of her head. "C'mon, now, it's all over an' y'll be goin' home soon. Stop yer blubberin'," she tells one young boy about thirteen. "Shells, when I was yer age, I was already here. I ain't dead yet, an' y'won't be hurt none." She herds the boys back toward the beach.
Derek smiles, nothing more than a disappearance of his mouth into the shadow of his moustache, and turns a glance on Cassiel but briefly. "After the feast," he agrees, voice soft and sandy and sweet and in general nothing even remotely like his nature. "Nera can use them for now." A nod, like the one he gave Islay - and then, for reasons all his own, Derek's walking an unhurried path the way that Aivey went.
Time: Late Morning on Day 6, Month 10, Turn 2
Players: So Many!
Scene: The exiles have a hatching. Oh boy.
Calren has not evinced much empathic ability, but his stomach growls along with some hatchlings'. Could just be the mention of food. Distracted, he looks aside. No food on the sands, right? Just checking.
Gananye hasn't managed to shake the boy still holding on to her for dear life. And now sand has stuck to the varying slobber points on her robe from the lad's ministrations. Not pleasant. She eyes the blue wistfully for a moment, "Nice coloring on him. - Oh look," she tells the boy, "I think that green may be coming for you."
Ramalla nods quickly as the bronze impresses, the look on her face clearly saying she expected that to happen or something. With the green and blue on the move, Ramalla is torn between trying to watch them both while watching the way the others act around her.
Laemont finally gives up on hiding behind people when the young man who was his more recent shield actually steps on his foot, wincing and hisisng and almost falling over sideways. He shuffles to the side, inadvertantly kicking a bit of hot sand up one of his pantsleg with a hushed chanting of select curses. Pushing his hair out of his face once more, smoothing it back in an attempt to keep it from spiking, he stands with his hands on his head and his hips canted forward slightly, just watching everyone move - or not move - around him, the flux and flow of hatchlings and people responding to them.
Nenuith hunkers down and eyes this bronze Impression through blue-faceted eyes. A deep guttural noise emits, not altogether pleased but not dismissive either. Instead, she appears curious and drops her neck far enough to be able to see more closely who her son has chosen. "It's not so strange," Diya notes aloud, though a few incautious steps bring her away from the gold's back haunches up front to caress the underside of that massive maw. "And-," but worry frets again along her brow at the continual hatching of baby dragonet, her gaze then shifting to the reserve piles of food there are for them.
Islay doesn't seem overly surprised that none of the hatchlings are heading her way, but one of the blues does seem to be eyeing the candidate to her side. So, with a little urging, she nudges the boy forward. "Gwan, get out there an' find yer lifemate, if'n y'can," she tells them. If she can't Impress, at lest a few of them might.
Daurian's attention splits, long enough to take stock of the green that's taking stock of males. He shifts with unease, shooting another look over his shoulder to where he can clearly spot his father. His features tighten again before he looks back to the sands and almost pointedly ignores the green.
Padian raises his head and looks at J'lor, that same, stupid grin still vivid. "Feast!" He says in a chirp, an arm almost naturally slung around Rodhaketh's neck as they're directed. And follow. Oh, right. There we go! "This way, this way.. Feasting time.." Padi guides himself and the perky bronze toward the area set aside.. Beam!
"Thirty-six?" Shanti answeres, tone distracted as she looks back to the little green as she circles the group, and then to the remaining eggs to quickly go over them in her head. Other hand free, it reaches across her front to give one of Riseli's hands onher arm a reassuring squeeze as the chaos swirls around them.
The little green head pokes through first, gasping for breath while the rest of her remains curled in the shell. Not for long. With a heave and a loud cry of protest against her imprisonment, the green pushes her egg apart and scrambles upright, bracing her legs defiantly while she looks over the candidates. After a moment or two, the orchid blossom green takes a stiff, awkward step, and warily begins her search.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling --
Although lithe and small, something about this hatchling strikes of a more bracing character than the typical dainty green. A slim nose brushes out into a wide jaw and large, gleaming eyes overset by the slanted stroke of heavy eyeridges. These last scroll back all the way to the line of ridges running down her spine, ridges which raise so high and to such long points that they look almost like stylized waves. Her hide reinforces the idea, washed in a green so deep and murky it approaches oceanic teal. That color lessens only for the fine, long arches of her claws, a mild and milky jade at odds with the fierce way she holds them ever-flexed as though to grab hold of Pern itself. Already she has the muscles to back it up, heavy shoulders, broad quarters and a firm, braced stance. Yet, though poised for it, she is not wholly built for aggression, with a slim chest and slender belly that slopes up gently to her flank.
Laivok shakes his head and sighs to himself as the bronze leaves with someone and looks around again, shifting. Fewer and fewr eggs and hatchlings. Less chances of him Impressing. He seems a little nervous. Odd for the guard, but he tries to cover it and doesn't speak much.
Aivey shifts; unease and impatience play equal parts in the cause. Staunchly, she falls still and remains that way, the only movement from her corner is that of her eyes as she continues watching, splitting her attention between the greens and blue on the sands to the eggs that remain.
The sun and shadows green continues her search slowly. Each person she encounters must be studied. She croons hopefully, faceted eyes looking from one face to the next, tearing herself away from each person apologetically and reluctantly. Until she arrives before a long, lean girl. There she stops, her sounds becoming joyous as she nearly wraps her body around Shanti's legs and impression is made.
Ramalla turns to watch the progression of the one green, watching her move right up to Shanti. "There's another one I could have bet on." she murmurs again as her hands clasp together before her.
The sands are awfully crowded to Calren's mind, what with the dragons and people. Thankfully, things seem to move on at a good clip. He still watches with a furrowed brow, however; there's hatchlings to look out for. There are stories, after all, of occasional violence. Thus, he shifts from foot to foot warily.
Glittering Lights Blue Hatchling moves about the sands as though he owns them, slinking by boys and girls with a smooth sort of charm. It's as though he's nodding to them each, a wink in the swirl of his eyes, a bounce in his step. All the while, his tail ticks from one side to the other - just the tip - with a syncopated sort of rhthym. A-one and a-two and a three four five and a sliiiiiiiide, whoops! That slip through the sand was totally intentional. Just ignore him while he makes sure those feet are under him again. There's a flick of his wings, like a man straightening his jacket collar, before he's on the prowl again, tail ticking all the while.
Gananye scolds the boy hanging onto her. "Don't step on his foot," she darts a look back to Laemont, half apologetic and half irritated. Whatever apology she makes is lost in the boy pulling her abruptly sideways, pointing as Shanti impresses. His urgent words to his 'keeper' are lost as Nye waves a hand at him, pointing back out to the rocking eggs.
With Nenuith settled, this far into the hatching, Diya makes efforts to move even further. The absentminded scritch to the bottom of the gold's jaw segues into a fond pat and then drifts off, back to her side, and the goldrider paces a few steps away to stand off even further to the side, near an out of the way corner.
Laemont just smiles slightly back at Gananye with a sense of understanding only to blink and rock back on his heels to look as Shanti winds up with something green around her legs. While his first thought is that she might be getting mauled, he breathes a faint sigh of relief then blinks in surprise when he realizes that she's Impressing.
Radiance. There is no other word to describe the expression on Shanti's face as the dragonet claims her, curling about her legs as Riseli has her arms; her two loves both there. But one has to be left, for the moment, while the other is attendedto and Shanti is soon reaching down for her new weyrmate. "Toth." She says,and it's a tasting of the name on her tongue, a slow and sensual experience of first speaking it. Disentangling from them both, a half-apologetic smile is given to the now-alone Riseli before she is moving with the dragonet to the area the impressees are being ushered to.
Cassiel continues to shuttle back and forth between the corner and the rest of the sands, though she pauses with a yelp as a newly impressed brownrider starts to look as though he's going to dump the entire bowl of food into his lifemate's mouth. "No no no no," she says quickly. "I /know/ he's hungry, but you're supposed to be the thinking and sensible part of this bond, remember," she says with a wan smile. "Slow."
Daurian lifts a hand to quickly brush away the sweat gathering on his brow. He notes the impression of one green with a faint smile and a relieved exhalation before pulling in another breath and holding it. One green and a blue remain on the sands, Daurian now watches both with close scrutiny.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling keeps her distance, even while she's scanning the candidates. She moves stiff-legged several paces away from them, watching them from with one eye as she moves down the line of them with low, slinking steps. It's as much aggression as it is anxiousness, and when one candidates seems to step forward to her, she quickens her pace and scampers away with a quick warning snap of her jaws.
Oh there is food. There is food galore. Seventy five stolen sheep can, at least, feed hatchlings on hatching day. Especially when supplemented with a hearty helping of fish. J'lor moves carefully to make his way to the newest pair. Shanti and her green. "Congratulations, my dear. Follow me this way and we'll get her fed and oiled if her skin begins to itch." He begins to guide them towards the otehr hatchlings and neo-riders.
One of the eggs that was still only moments before, rocks once sharply. A second forceful jerk sends the egg rolling down the mound at an alarming pace and landing on the sands proper with enough force to shatter the shell completely. In its place is a brown hatchling, flat on his belly, legs akimbo. He raises his head, shakes it, and begins to try and get up onto his feet.
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling --
A plain sort of brown of average length, he already shows slightly heavier musculature than most of his color. He is blunt curves and rounded edges. Not roly-poly, but certainly not lean or pointed. His is the warm shade of tanned leather, deep and consistent. At joints, headknobs, elbows, and knees, the color lightens as if his hide was faded and weather-worn in these places. Across a deep chest and along thick limbs, the overall brown shade darkens just a little more. Over blunted spinal ridges, thick shoulders, broad back and short tail, a touch paler. When his wings are fully spread, wingsails are shown to be the same warm shade as the rest of his body with lighter and erratic fissures of color streaking across them. The pattern resembles the cracks and creases in well-worn leather.
Riseli is... left. The look on her face is primarily shock, and then betrayal, as Shanti leaves for the dragonet. She manages a forced smile, and a soft, "Congradulations," as the pair begin to make their way. Riseli's eyes follow them, hurt still lingering in them as Shanti leaves. But then, there are the other hatchlings to consider. With a sudden intake of breath, Riseli turns and peers outwards at the other dragonets, her face a mask.
Laivok blinks and watches as more leave with little dragons and he watches the dwindling eggs and hatchings, focusing on them and watches as a brown emerges and he smiles then. Hope. He glances at the Blue as well. Hoping that one will like him, he edges forward just a little, watching more and shifting from side to side.
"That," Calren says, abruptly, "is a good color." Figures the Tanner approves of the newly-hatched brown. He gives a single approving nod, then settles his stance in the shifty sands once more, his gaze roaming over candidate and hatchling alike with little discrimination. He focuses on Riseli a moment, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, before moving on to look elsewhere.
Gananye finally manages to shake her other lamprey. A brown finds him, and the boy leaves in stunned silence for the food on the edges of the sands. With a relieved sigh, Nye brushes absently at her robes, grimacing at the sand and muck on them. Gah. Spying Riseli alone she maneuvers over in that direction assuring her, "Should be over soon." No compassion to the stolen holder boys, but to this teenager now standing alone? Go fig.
Aivey, having very little to do but wait and watch, continues to do so. Both shoulders are a little stiffer, a little straighter though she otherwise remains the same as she was upon first stepping on the hatching area.
Laemont takes a small step forward when that other candidate steps towards the green, his breath catching at the possibility of violence on the sands. Note that this isn't out of interest in it so much as concerned anticipation of the possibility. He drops his hands from his head and breathes a relieved sigh when the candidate comes away from it with all of their limbs and proper organs, shoulders relaxing just in time for him to get a bit nervous once more when another egg hatches and deposits a brown onto the sand.
The glittering lights blue shuffles his way across the sands, a self-assured lift to his wings, a graceful confidence in his movement that makes his hatchling stumbles endearing. The boys on the sands are considered with good-natured curiosity, each granted his time, before he pauses in front of a lean strawberry blond boy. His tail ticks, regular as a metronome, nodding his hatchling head in rhthym for a long moment before he slides to Laemont's side, his wing rising behind the boy like an arm over shoulders.
Ramalla giggles softly as she watches the blue more then the green, then the new brown. "He reminds me of someone...can't place it.." An encouraging smile is sent in Riseli's direction before it's back to hatchling and egg watching as the number of unhatched eggs dwindles and the blue impresses.
Riseli shakes her head, answering Gananye in words only. "It doesn't matter," she says, eyes never leaving the dragons. "Might as well take the distraction from chores, right?" but there's no cheer, not even a false one, to back up her words.
Certain that she'll go unnoticed, Islay begins to slip away, moving toward the sidelines. She recognizes Aivey, and doesn't head in that direction, merely wanders toward the sidelines, heading away from the candidates still on the sands. If nothing else, maybe she can be of help with getting supplies ready for the newly Impressed. So, toward there she heads, watching her step and being careful not to get in the way of hatchlings of candidates. When Laemont is chosen, she can't help but smile. This is good. Maybe the harper won't seem so sad now.
Orchid Blossom Green Hatchling dances lightly away from the candidates as she reaches the end of the line, nimble already on her baby feet. Turning a full 180, she looks back at the line of candidates she just passed, taking a deep breath and gearing herself up. It all pours out in a snarl, bucking herself up before she dashes madly back down the line, less searching than simply accomplishing: she /must/ do these rounds of the candidates. Must get this done.
Daurian, upon the arrival of the brown to the sands, deposits his attention upon him. He shifts, trying to jockey himself into a better position to be seen, or to at least attract the attention of a dragon out on the sands. Another furitive look in M'uri's direction finds the young man fidgetting for several long moments.
Cassiel squints at Islay as she starts to move away from the rest of the candidates, changing course to cut the girl off at the pass. "Hatching isn't over, girl," she says, making a shooing motion towards the rest of the candidates. "I don't need someone getting injured because some dragon was looking for you while you wandered away. Back to the line."
Gananye glances aside at Riseli for a long moment, lips twisting wryly. "Well, if Nenuith stays, this won't be the last hatching for you, I'm sure." Her voice is low enough not to carry far over the chaos of the dragonets and eggs. "And there's still eggs out there."
What with candidates-turned-riders peeling away and moving away from the hatching sands (im)proper, Calren is forced to step up into the gap left behind. There's a bit more breathing room, if nothing else. Unfolding his arms, he slides his hands along his trousers, then tucks them into his pockets.
Diya can try, but finds it terribly difficult to overhear conversations with the clambering of thirty-six minus the Impressed on the sands. Instead, from the corner she's selected, she watches the back of a slight, pretty, dark-haired girl with no small amount of interest.
Riseli snorts, a sort of sarcastic laugh. "Eggs? I don't /want/ an egg! I didn't want to be out here... but it doesn't really matter," she says again, shaking her head to flip hair out of her eyes. She turns to give a wry sort of smile at Gananye. "It's Shanti s'all." But then she hushes on the matter, and just shrugs. "Come what may."
Caught! Islay drops her head, then looks back up at Cassiel. "Yes'm," she replies, moving a few steps forward until she's at least more or less back in line. "Ain't none o'them baby dragons gonna wanna runt like me," she murmurs, and her eyes search the crowd around them. Yep, there's her father, and judging from the frown on his face, he's not happy to see her out there. Well, shells! Islay draws herself up to her full (lack of) height, and squares her shoulders. She'll stand, all right. Just to ... well, show Layen she can.
Laemont is simply standing, looking out over the sands with that sense of nervous curiosity when he suddenly feels something brush against him from behind. He turns, expecting to find another candidate shuffling behind him, someone fleeing notice the way he has been trying to do. He is momentarily shocked to find a distinctly non-human figure by his side, but then his eyes go blank and his shocked expression smoothes into something almost thoughtful. Lips twitch into a faint grin, and Laemont's - er, L'mon's - hands lift, a bit shakily, to rest on the sapphiric dragonet's shoulders, "A-ah, Manierath..." He turns his head, looking for the stuff that you feed to dragonets after they say stuff to your brain and you give it to them and it's over there. Yes. "There," he nods in the direction of free food and peers, looking a bit shell-shocked but still managing to usher his new lifemate in that direction with some amount of confidence.
The is a moment of surprise, quiet and delighted, as the newest bluerider is registered in J'lor's mind. He makes his way over to the harper boy, grinning genuinely from ear to ear. "Well done, Laemont...ah, L'mont? L'mon? Well done, indeed. A fine color for a lifemate." A wink, from one bluerider to another, before he begins to guide the boy off to the food and oil. "This way, and you can have him fed and settled. I'll meet with you and the other new riders once the hatching is done."
Cassiel watches Islay for a moment, then nods, turning to intercept L'mon. "There we go. Congratulations," she says lightly, looking down at the cocky little blue with a faint, wry smile. "This way, kids, let's get some food in that belly. Slowly, with chewing, please."
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling makes it onto his paws, legs bending at the joints in ways the joints shouldn't, and once they're firmed up from shell-starved thinness, will not bend. In time he gets himself straightened up, wings windmilling and flapping and swirling sand all over the place in their efforts to balance him. Once he's upright he sucks in a deep breath, chest billowing, then sinking with a sigh. Such a trial to come to life in this wild crazy world full of sand and water and people. But there's something he's meant to do, something that is now his vocation, his dedication. He steps forward, wobbling. His head sweeps one way and another, taking in the crowd. Searching. He'll know what for when he finds it.
Laivok nods slowly as the blue makes a choice and focuses on the brown, watching him. He shifts more, edging forward again and glancing around. Must focus on the brown for now....
Riseli edges back, away from the dragons and towards the 'exit'. Her protection is gone, and therefore, her bravery is fast leaving as well. "We can leave as soon as it's over, right?" she confirms with Gananye, or whoever is close enough to hear and answer.
Gananye nods, mirroring Riseli's smile with her own. "Come what may." As Laemont - L'mon - is led past, she gives him a grin before looking back out at the eggs. - "I think so? Be drafted to help with the feast I imagine," is her sardonic reply.
Daurian is still fidgetting, but finally gets it undercontrol by forcibly fisting both hands at his sides. His knuckles soon turn white, but the effort is not lost. Attention fixed on the brown, the young man solidly watches his every move.
Manierath has left.
There's a sneaky egg on the sand. The tapping from within has been quiet, barely shaking the sand around it as the dragonet within weakens its defenses. And so, when it starts to shake violently, it startles the nearest candidate, sending the woman jumping back a generous step. And then the shaking pauses. No one saw that. What everyone /does/ see, however, is the sudden explosion of the egg, leaving a wary-eyed little green where it stood.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling --
Small and scrappy, this stocky little green holds herself with a pride that says she doesn't take flak from anyone. She's a pale green in color, a muted jade that shines the palest milky green over muscled shoulders and powerful haunches, the color the lightest on her wings, where the 'sails drape broad between lithe spars built for speed. Every muscle is compact and powerful, lending her a spring-wound energy that makes her petite frame seem somehow larger in presence. Her face stands out from the hard outlines of her body, round and smooth of hide, eyes large and oft-blinking. The shape of her head is gentle and curved even to her headknobs, which are oddly shorter, larger, and rounder than most.
Aivey, having really only one option out there on the sands, studies the green while she tries to make her choice. Occasionally, Aivey looks to those who aren't yet impressed, as though trying to size up what the green might be looking for herself.
Squinting against the heat and grit of the sands, Calren keeps his eyes upon the remaining eggs and little dragons. Though 'little' is somewhat relative, when the dam is right there for comparison. He lifts a hand to cover a cough, then runs his fingers through his hair, combing some back from his face. It's hot enough without the clingy strands' annoyance.
Riseli simply presses a hand to her forehead as yet another dragon appears. "Shells, will it never end?" she huffs, exasperated. She shifts, toes wiggling into the sand. At least she's used to going barefoot, hm?
Snapping and snarling, the orchid blossom green has made her way all along the candidate line and back, with still no luck. She begins to pace, impatient, and her strides become narrower by the second. Suddenly she looks up and lets out a gentle warble, settling her gaze upon one of the older candidates. Age, it seems, means nothing to this baby, who takes a few uncertain steps before falling into an all-out dash and crooning to Gananye.
Laivok blinks and shifts again, watching, leaning forward some. Hoping to Impress, but beginning to lose some of the hope as he sighs.
Worn Leather Brown Hatchling is awkward, gangly, near-stumbling with every step. He whimpers, making little irritable sounds, chittering about how hard the going is. His legs shake and his tail rudders madly to keep him on course. But he knows, it seems, his course. There's a pair of young boys, one stolen and one his new best friend, before him. He heads toward them. Directly toward them. As if... he might go through them. This possibility seems more and more likely as his head cranes up on a swaying neck, as if he's trying to see /between/ those boys at more young people waiting beyond. He stops right before the two and clacks his teeth impatiently. They... move.
Ramalla chuckles at little as a green take to Gananye, she didn't expect that at all but she's looking rather happy for both girl and green.
Complacent now, having come to terms with her eggs going to other people, Nenuith curls her tail about her body and exhales her somewhat fishy breath on those closest by. Diya continues to watch the black-haired girl in front of her, the gaze broken intermittently as she lifts her eyes to the various little ledges and the grouping of people atop the upslope.
Daurian isn't amidst the crowd where the brown is at, and it deflates him yet again. He remains hopeful, however, and continues watching; brown and whatever eggs have yet to hatch.
Gananye staggers, stepping forward instead of back. Out to meet the foe. "Falanth?" She softens, "Falanth." Heedless of the fear of the aggressive little green who has turned down others, she drapes an arm around her headknobs. "I know where to go. they've food for us over there." The austere woman turns a smile made luminous by impression onto Riseli, meeting her eyes in a swift wish of luck, before moving off with Falanth.
Calren holds his breath a moment. "Augh," he says, quietly. But not /toward/ the queen dragon, no.
Another green to see to, J'lor heads over to Gananye as he swipes at the sweat now dripping down his brow. It's hot anyhow, and the these burning sanda make it worse. "Congratulations, Gananye. This way, good, you know where you're headed. Let's get her belly filled, hmm? You'll have no peace until you do."
Gananye turns a bright, near burning gaze on J'lor and nods. "Yes, /sir/." Ushering Falanth over towards the food and the other new weyrlings.
Riseli is not nearly as shocked as she was the first time. An aggressive green coming in her direction did have her going for a moment, and its a sigh of relief that emits from her mouth. Staring death in the face with that one. She does manage a small nod of her head, and tiny smile towards Gananye. But now she is once more without a shield. "At least it's almost over, right?" she says, ignoring the fact that whomever she's speaking to is likely not to hear her.
Laivok blinks and nods. More Impressions. He edges towards the brown a little and watches him look at the boys. Hoping and sighs. He glances around then and notices much fewer candidates and blinks, shaking his head a little.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling tips her head up, peering around the candidates left closest to her with a rather suspicious, considering gaze. After a moment, she leaps up to her feet, rushing towards the invisible line where eggs stop and candidates begin to peer at them more. Slowly, she gives one wing a stretch, and then the other, sticking her nose forward and her tail back until she's stretched out entirely.
The worn leather brown hatchling wends his way around the boys on the sands, eyes tinged the red of distress. He creels unhappily until his attention falls onto a tall and muscular man. Aimless wandering has sudden purpose as the little brown scrambles towards his choice. The red melts away into cool blue as the hatchling lowers his head until his chin rests on Laivok's feet. Faceted eyes close as the bond is sealed.
Islay watches the dragons meet their lifemates, and it does bring a smile to her lips. She's not agitated or even upset that none of them have come even close to her -- save that one bronze, but she already knew that was a mistake! -- and there's a bit of softness about her now. At least she knows some of those she knows -- as well as a few of the kidnapped boys -- are happier now. And, her smile widens as Laivok finds his brown. That should make a few people happy.
Daurian will not worry. He simply will not. Though the brown impresses, and the green is left behind, he will not worry. His fists clench tighter as he looks back to the remaining eggs. Trying, however much in vain, to ignore that green.
Laivok blinks in suprise then. "Benreth." Genuine suprise is on his face as he smiles even more. as he touches the brown. "Wow..."
One of the larger eggs begins a slight rocking motion that grows until it is bobbing side to side with enough force to push it free of the mound and send it, end over end, rolling down and onto the sands. It lands with a muffled crunch, and a spinner's web of fine cracks spreads along the whole of it. At the weakest point, a nose pushes through, dark and slick with egg fluids. Nostrils flare wide and squeeze shut several times before the muzzle withdraws and pushes forward again. A head follows, neck and body appearing soon after. Carefully, the slim little bronze manages to step his way onto the sands, leaving the husk of his eggshell still mostly complete.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling --
Long, lean, and svelte, there is a refined sort of power promised in this bronze's aesthetic and motions. He will be larger, but more narrow than many of his kin, and his outline has a sort of stretched appearance, as if his image was drawn onto fabric, and that fabric was just very gently pulled. His coloring is layered in overtones of blue and green that ripple through the dark-hued bronze. A near-black muzzle lightens into a green tinge that begins near large oval eyes and slides down his neck. It crescendos into a bright blaze that is very nearly blue at his shoulders, before ebbing back into proper, coppery green, then that dark night sheen again. The pattern repeats itself down his sides, over his flanks, and along his tail. When wings are spread, wingsails are deep and smokey, like the start of true darkness after the last tinge of daylight fades.
Aivey keeps watching the green, even come Laivok's impression to the brown. Though she doesn't quite look wistful to have the creature head her way, she doesn't take her eyes off it either.
The bluerider offers a gentle smile to Shanti as her companions leave with hatchlings, but then there is a brown and his new rider to assist and J'lor makes his way there. "This way, L'vok. Will it be L'vok? Follow the others and get him fed and oiled."
L'vok nods slowly at J'lor, absently hearing him, "Yes, it's L'vok..." A smile as he caresses the brown and guides him over to where the others are.
Force of Personality Green Hatchling contracts with a bit of a snap, turning to start to sneak past that invisible line, taking a good look around. She seems less interested in the candidates at this point than she is in everything around herself, even looking up towards the sky as though she expects attack at any moment. For a brief moment, she turns to look back at her shattered cell, huffing out a heavy breath. There's no hiding back in there. Determined, then, she turns back to the candidates, looking them over intently.
Riseli shifts her weight from side to side. Not due to heat, as her feet are almost burried in sand, but likely due to nerves. The crowd is thinking, and she's left largely vulnerable. She considers the new bronze with mild amusement, and murmers something under her breath.
More folks leave the sands, and that's good; it means things are winding down. Unfortunately, it leaves Calren exposed as well. With a resigned air he waits out the rest of the event, tensing up still more.
Ramalla watches the brown impress before moving to watch the newest bronze and the green still out there.
Cassiel finally gets a chance to catch her breath, dragging a hand through her hair before eyeing the remaining hatchlings and candidates on the sands. A few more would-be stragglers - including a few of Derek's men - are cut off by the greenrider and herded back to the line.
Daurian's tense features crack with the slightest showing of relief as an egg hatches to reveal a suitable choice for /him/. The young man goes through the routine again: straightening his shoulders, shuffling a step ahead of the line he's with and fixing his attention on the sole male hatchling left on the sands.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling doesn't move. Stepping free from an egg is one thing, but...walking? Legs tremble just slightly, but knees and elbows lock to hide the motion. The hatchling's head is low, egg slime dribbling from his nose and sides as his tail twitches once. A wing lifts, spreads, retracts. The other does the same. Then both appendages are pulled in close to his body and, wobbling, the young bronze stares down at the sand around his talons.
The little fighter green is clearly not one to waste her time. After dismissing a line of candidates, she marches determinedly towards a plain girl with curly brown hair and dark eyes, drawing up to inspect her critically, head tipped to one side. She's tense, sharp, then suddenly croons, pushing her head up against Riseli's thigh and moving in close. Ralkoth, that is.
Ramalla claps her hands softly together as the stocky green moves and claims Riseli for her own. "Now that is a good pairing, that green'll surely do wonders for that girl."
Aivey watches the green impress and purses her lips before looking to the bronze. Those males that are left are sized up in much the same manner as she'd done earlier. Again, she waits though there's a tension along her jaw that hints at impatience.
Northern Sky Bronze Hatchling blinks slowly, several time. Red-tinged eyes swirl at an increased pace as the sand is studied so long that the bronze risks tipping forward completely. His tail lashes out and he rectifies the balance problem without actually paying attention to any of the candidates immediately. Slowly, his head lifts. Slowly he begins to observe the lower torsos of those present on the sands. There is a long careful study as Calren's feet come into view and one paw lifts. Will he move forward?
Riseli starts, taking steps backwards as the determined green closes the gap. "Shoo..." she begins, but her words fall short. There's a stunned silence, and Riseli just gapes. Her face is a wave of differeing emotions, one after the other, but predominantly surprise and delight. "Ralkoth..." she murmers, loving, tender. She kneels to embrace the green, but it quickly turns into a searching look over her shoulder. "Food?"
Daurian's lips part, expelling a small puff of air he's held for far too long. His eyes close for all of a second, and when they open again, the bronze is fixed back in his sights. Absently, he might be aware of the greens impression... but the bronze remains his focus and his hope... no matter that he's before another boy now.
Another green and J'lor again finds himself before Riseli. But for a different task this time. Or, the same task. Different girl. "This way, my dear. Food and oil for her. She seems a demanding sort."
Calren draws the back of his hand across his mouth, and grimaces again. "Shardin' thirsty," he says, making it more of an observation than a grumble. Barely.
Ralkoth does indeed seem a demanding sort! Now that she's found her partner, she straightens up with regal pride, ducking her head behind Riseli to give the girl a nudge. Onwards!
The northern sky bronze has moved little, the candidates studied with red-tinged eyes as he balances carefully, wings slightly lifted and faintly spread. He seems almost unwilling to meet any gaze directly, and holds his perusal to bare feet. But then his search stops, his head lifts, and for one candidate in particular, the newborn bronze begins to make his way, careful and precise, across the sands. He is silent, and trips only once, before stopping by Daurian's feet to stare up into the boy's eyes.
D'rian's hope has paid off. The bronze he finds at his feet is greeted with another tight exhalation of air and arms that lift to quickly wrap around the dragon's neck. D'rian's PDA is short lived, for all that he rather abruptly straightens and clears his throat, a hand lightly touching the side of his dragon's neck, "Taikath," he supplies before looking toward J'lor with a tense, albeit euphoric smile.
"Taikath," J'lor repeats with a small nod. The smile for the by is small but quiet and warm. "And D'rian? D'ran? Follow me. We'll get him fed and settled." The smile tips into a smirk. "Ever M'uri couldn't ask for more, could he."
With D'rian's Impression, the last of the few eggs shatter and Impress to two boys from the mainland. Then stillness, followed by a trumpeting from Nenuith - triumph (she rose and laid eggs) tinged with just that smidgeon of mournfulness that her eggs are no longer her own. Spectators slowly begin to drift away to chatter about the hatching, though others seem less than convinced as to the state of affairs as they pin beady eyes on the voracious leeches to society.
D'rian is all business now. A solemn nod to J'lor preceeds the small smile confirming his statement. He follows the bluerider off the hatching area.
Calren ducks his head down, shoulders hunching, when Nenuith bugles her triumph -- and sorrow. It is with a wince that he rubs at his ear, and he turns to head off the sands gratefully.
Aivey is frowning by the end of the hatching. Nenuith's trumpet is her signal to head off, which, after a look at all those who remain, Aivey turns to do. An absent rub at her shoulder is all she offers as she picks her way through the crowd.
The last of the dragons and the new riders are off the shands. There is nothing now but people and eggshells and a large queen dragon. J'lor exhales slowly and looks to Cassiel. "Round up the boys from the mainland that didn't impress. I don't want them trying to creep off, could you? I'll find you in an hour. For now, I'd better..." one hand gestures to the area where the newest riders are congregated.
Quiet through most of the chaos, shrinking back from time to time as the young dragons loomed too near the slope for his comfort, Derek has on a darkly pleased expression as he step-hops his way down to the sand. It's taken him no time to speak of to recognize that it's safe here, for him, again. "Should be a feast day tomorrow," he says, in his soft, gentle, ill-fit voice, to no one in particular. Or maybe, to J'lor; it's near the bluerider the island leader stops. But his eyes, pale and beady, focus and follow the back of a young woman, a dark-haired and light-green-eyed young woman, trying to slip away. "Nera could use them for help, and keep an eye. They ought to at least get fed before we send them off."
Cassiel pauses at J'lor's words, just blinking. "You're joking, right?" she asks, brows rising. "J'lor. You're joking." She steps forward towards the man, giving him a long, steady look. "Don't even think it. What you meant to say was, round them up so they can go and have a bite to eat, it'll make them feel better, right?"
Ramalla stretches then heaves a gusty sigh as the last eggs hatch and the hatchlings impress. "That's the end of that." looking rather pleased she turns back towards the slope.
Islay's shoulders don't sag, nor does she seem particularly upset at not having Impressed, and looks for her father in the crowd. The guardsman has a smug, "I told you so" expression on his face, and that's the only reason Islay refused to be crestfallen. She gives the man a two-fingered salute, and then simply turns. Now she can walk away and not be chastised by Cassiel for slipping out of line. Her expression seems to exclaim, 'See? Told you no dragon would want a runt like me.' Question being, is she really not concerned? Or is she just a bit disappointed. Only she knows the answer to that. As she turns, she catches sight of Derek, and stops, waiting to see where he heads, so she doesn't interrupt him.
"He said what he said," Derek remarks, as if he's just musing on the notion. He catches Islay's eye, since she's looked his way. A little nod. Just a little one. Approval? A request for council in private? Just a nod.
Aivey likely knows better then to try and slip away without first seeing that it is at least acceptable, or maybe even advised. When she gets to that area of safety she turns to scan the area she's left behind. Sight of Derek and J'lor isn't missed, nor does it cause her to linger. Aivey slips down the path and away from the after-hatching preperations.
Cassiel is simply given a single, long, hard, look. "After the feast," J'lor says to her. And then he begins to move after the weyrlings but not before calling over his shoulder to Islay, "I knew a rider once. She was yea big." One hand lifts to stop and a few inches below the five foot mark. "Not everyone impresses their first time." Derek is not looked at at all.
Cassiel just eyes J'lor for a long moment, then snarls to herself before stalking off. She does, however, snag one of the kidnapped boys as she goes. Poor kid's probably even /more/ scared now.
Calren was not given an order, per se, but he eyes a group of mainland boys, and tells them, "Best stick together." He gives them a short, amiable enough nod, and then calls, "Ain't there anything t'drink 'round here?"
Islay looks at J'lor, and there's a smile for the blue rider. "Well, now we gots a queen, guess there'll be more eggs t'come, right?" She shrugs. "Ain't no big thing, an' I'm more use catchin' fish t'feed 'em, I think. Can't ever'body do th' same thing," she says, glancing over at another one left behind on the sands. Calren. She offers a nod and an almost jovial grin. "I gots water in th' boat. Let's get these kids back t'camp an' then we'll sort ever'thin' out." The large gold dragon is given a long look, and a nod of her head. "C'mon, now, it's all over an' y'll be goin' home soon. Stop yer blubberin'," she tells one young boy about thirteen. "Shells, when I was yer age, I was already here. I ain't dead yet, an' y'won't be hurt none." She herds the boys back toward the beach.
Derek smiles, nothing more than a disappearance of his mouth into the shadow of his moustache, and turns a glance on Cassiel but briefly. "After the feast," he agrees, voice soft and sandy and sweet and in general nothing even remotely like his nature. "Nera can use them for now." A nod, like the one he gave Islay - and then, for reasons all his own, Derek's walking an unhurried path the way that Aivey went.