Of egg ministrations and a lullabye of metal tinking
Hatching Sands(#1296RJqs$)
This huge cavern arcs high overhead, a volcanic bubble in matte black rock left open to the wide sky at the top. The black sand of the Istan hatching grounds reflects less light than a paler sand would; as a result the cavern is darker than most, particularly when the sun's not directly overhead. Tunnels lead off to the bowl and the queens' quarters to southeast and southwest. Tiers of galleries provide seating for spectators, while ledges above offer perches for dragons.
Besides the span of the galleries to the south, one can head over towards the entrance to the hatching grounds, or into one of the Queen's tunnels to the southeast and southwest.
Dragons scattered across the dark sand include Nalaieth, and Vildaeth.
Nalaieth is awake, again, and is slowly shuffling between a damp-looking egg and a speckled egg, nudging this one here, and that one there, until the sand piles near each look just so.
Dragon> Volath bespoke Nalaieth with << perfectionist >>
In the galleries, Caitlyn is here, in the wee hours - fortunate in a way to be more of a night owl at this time. She sits quietly, with a slouched, relaxed posture, right at the lip of the Galleries. Every-so-often, her fingers wriggle as she continues weaving round wire links into what seems to be a chain. At Nalaieth's maternal nudgings, the smith pauses in her work to offer up a simple smile of delight.
Nalaieth pauses in her ministrations, sensing another being nearby. The moonlight illuminates the gallery figure, as do the cavern's recent supply of glows for the restless mother's first night with eggs on the sand. The queen stills, listening to wire links sound against each other, and only her eyes whirl with interested movement.
In the galleries, Caitlyn doesn't want to break the simple peace - the perfectness of this moment - and so pauses in her weaving as the gold moves a little. A breath that was unconsciously held whistles out of Cait's lungs as she gulps for needed air, the smith grinning foolishly at herself for being so lost in the moment. Her voice is a couched, low alto - soft as a breeze on the gritty air. "Don't worry, mother. I'm just relaxing...observing. Oh, and weaving a bracelet." Cait finds the whorl of Nalaieth's eyes a strange balm to her sometimes nervous personality - inspiring both curiosity and a sense of quietude in her.
Nalaieth is unmoving, not even a twitch of her tail, for long moments, holding her gaze toward the lone woman in the stands. Her nose twitches imperceptibly, resisting the dust. Eventually, the smith's voice eases her, or she determines the onlooker will remain seated, and in approximation of slow-motion, she lowers her tawny head to gently push sand up against an egg, possibly aiming to obscure it from view.
In the galleries, A soft, nearly imperceptible giggle flutes from Cait's lips at the queen's purposeful obscurment of her shelled offspring. Soon silenced again, her smile, however, is still apparent through the filmy barrier of the scarf that covers her nose and mouth. Once more, artistic, industrious fingers settle to linking and patterning ring after ring of copper to the slowly growing bracelet, the soft tinkles of the metal sounding a bit like water. The smith lets her eyes drop from watching the gold, now intent on checking the weave in her hand for inconsistencies.
Nalaieth seems to find the tink-tink of metal on metal comforting, as her tail now swishes back and forth at a steady, regular pace while she minutely adjusts the positions of first one egg, then the next.
In the galleries, And Caitlyn finds Nalaieth's slow, easy movements - her restful silence - comforting, too. The smith settles into a kind-of rhythm, fingertips readjusting her creation when needed, copper then tinkling with that gentle sound as she experiments with those delicate rings.
Nalaieth is attentive to each egg in turn, cascading sand over one with a dark smudge, cradling a damp-seeming egg with her tail, protective yet leisurely. Eventually, after all ten have received ministrations, the queen hunkers down to rest, only her eyes attentive still to the source of the soothing metal-tink lullabye. At last, even watch is relaxed on that front, and Nalaieth succumbs to slumber once more.
In the galleries, How long Caitlyn and Nalaieth relax in each others' company becomes unimportant, both of the females finding their company restful for the moment. But all too soon, the human part of the equation is stretching, yawning with a huge intake of breath - blinking through sand-encrusted lashes. Deftly depositing her growing work of art into her drawpouch, the smith rises slowly - only now aware that the dragon has fallen asleep. Her lips move, but create no sounds as she mouths 'Thank you, Nala. Good night, and sweet dreams.' Moving with the deliberatness of the tired, she shuffles quietly from the galleries.