In which the eggs of Nalaieth and Jekzith arrive, part 1

[noleepackrat]

Nalaieth, Nolee, P'draig, Jekzith, Caitlyn, Derik, Tegara, C'len, Hillel, Izarit, Kamia, Trace, Chantha, Lujayn, C'nroy, Griere, Tegara, T'mic, Aion, Noemie

Caitlyn moves slowly with Trace, allowing others more in a hurry to pass them towards the Grounds, the woman listening quietly to her companion.

Kamia makes her way up the stairs akwardly, her balance a bit off, hanging onto the railing.

The constant rain seems to have let up for the occasion, though there remains evidence of its presence in the form of small pools and puddles where the stone is sunken, and in patches of unfortunate colonies of a slick, algae-like substance here and there. Umbrella stands and woven rush mats rest in cavern entryways and along stairs, covered in sand to provide traction. The viewing galleries are hot under the beating midday sun, drying out the puddles one by one but not yet chasing away the awful influx of biting tropical insects, making the raised pots of repellent salve at the entryway a luxury.

Trace moves along with Caitlyn as well, frowning slightly as they move towards the hatching grounds and stands. "What's goin' on?" He asks after a moment. Why are so many people going there...? Really, it's a lot of people. Then it registers and he stops in his tracks, looking sideways at the blue rider, not saying a word. His body language says it all. Yeah, he's ready to get out.

Small but irritating tropical insects buzz about, landing on the unwary and taking an annoying taste.

By the time Nolee arrives, Nalaieth is already on the sands, making slow but unproductive circles. "She's been doing this all morning," Nolee explains, helping to take caps off a few of the raised pots of insect-repelling salve and daubing some of it on her arms. "Please, watch out for slippery spots, it's been awful." P'draig's all gentleman, even escorting the weyrwoman down to the edge of the sands, excitement on both their faces.

Derik pelts up the stairs a little while after everyone else has come up. He's changed clothing to a dark red tunic tucked into his white shorts. As per usual his feet are bare. Falk gleams from where he is perched on the lad's shoulder as Derik heads straight for the front rows, getting as close as he can to peek over to see the sands.

C'len grabs one of the woven mats on his way in, and stops, too, to spread some of the repellant on his face. He starts to put some on his arms as well but, thinking better of it, just shrugs into his jacket: too warm by far, but good protection from the bites. The mat is spread on a seat and he asks of Kamia, "Would you like to sit with me? I can grab another mat. Might keep all that... green stuff off us."

Kamia nods a bit to C'len. "Please... thank you" She says politely to him as she makes her way perhaps to carefully.

Chantha comes in making faces; the biters that swarm in the damp have apparently declared her a buffet. She's slathering salve on her arms. "I heard that something was going on with eggs--" she starts, seeing a few familiar faces. And then Nalaieth proves her correct. "Oh--oh! So *that's* what they look like." She squints a bit. "Thought they'd be prettier. More colorful, at least."

Hillel leans against one of the many supporting posts of the gallery watching the proceeding. "Fascinating." He hms, blinking as he looks down as the dragon suddenly lays an egg. "Curious." He murmurs. "Curious."

After getting situated, the visitor from 'Reaches offers Naurimeth's rider a hand so that she can more easily be seated. "It's so slippery, be careful," C'len says, and then his eye's caught by the bony-looking egg before turning back to help Kamia.

From the sands, There's some shuffling about, this time markedly different because the queen hesitates, hunkers down, and quivers before moving onward, turning immediately to inspect the first bright and cheery egg of hers and Jekzith's to arrive on the black Istan sands.

Kamia eyes the egg as she takes the hand. "Thank you C'len.. the baby makes mybalance weird without the water. That is one... interesting looking egg."

The Friendliest Flower Egg
How bright and friendly! There sits out on the dark sands an egg that simply screams affableness: a pretty little, you guessed it, white one. It's not completely white, of course. There are spots of goldenrod brushed on it in a random pattern, and each one is surrounded with the shadow of a pleasant little flower. Occasionally, there will be a break in the thick blooms, but they yield to a bright yellow-green that begs the eye not to notice it in favor of the far more welcoming blossoms.

In the galleries, Tegara has trotted up into the galleries, claiming a seat at the end of the aisle and wrapping something that is equal parts scarf and shawl over her head and shoulders to keep the bugs at bay. She waves to several people, most notably Caityln and then settles in to watch.

In the galleries, Caitlyn removes Trace's arm from hers, then drapes her own limb companionably over his shoulders - having to reach up to do so. She notices, yes - and so sits them both higher up, away from the main throng of people joining the Galleries. "Just work with being around the dragons, for now," she murmurs evenly to him.

In the galleries, "Egg!" squeals Izarit, like a five-year-old as she points. And then blinks, hiding a snickering sort of snort behind her hand. "Kind of... wopsided, isn't it," she remarks in an aside to a cousin, as she absently swats at a bug hovering around their faces. "And there's Paddy, isn't he cute?" Izzy accompanies those words with a conspiratorial grin to her companion and an enthusiastic wave at the man on the sands. Not much attention is spared there, though, as the trade of names continues: "Nolee, met her. That's--oh, I forget the name but I know him. Oh, you're right. And--ooh, I'll be back." Izarit's spotted Hillel, and she steps back to fold her hands behind her back as she walks to hover at his shoulder. "Curiouser and curiouser," she agrees, tone teasing.

In the galleries, Caitlyn barely notices Tegara's wave, quickly flashing the greenrider a warm smile and wave back, then concentrating mostly on Trace. The newely arriving eggs get glances, but not much more.

In the galleries, Easier said then done, when it's not dragons that he's known for a time...one of the few. Trace gulps, but then nods slightly and shifts the hard tube on his back nervously, slowly following Caitlyn up the stairs to wherever she leads. He looks back at the eggs and dragon only once, then turns his attention away.

In the galleries, Chantha prefers to stand, the better to avoid the smears of green algae that dot the damp cavern. Besides, it helps her see over all these darned tall people. "The eggs really stand out on black sand," she comments softly, for no one's benefit save her own. She smiles and waves to Izarit, but lets her go deal with Hillel, since Chantha's not brave enough. She does shoot the visibly-nervous Trace a concerned, friendly look.

Nolee wrinkles her nose, considering the egg. "Not a bad start..." she muses. "Hopefully a big strong dragon will come out of that one. That'd be an asp--aups-a sign of good things."

A notable pause occurs as Nalaieth raises her head and sniffs at the air, displeased. Malcontent, she moves to the very center of the sands. Her tail thrashes, brushing the sand flat. A gentle ripple courses down her sides, and a second egg is left behind.

Endless Love Egg
This oddly-shaped egg would be a normal oval if not for the iridescent bumps that spread out over its surface like a delicate beadwork. From some angles, they appear to be droplets of rain, clinging to the egg in an endless embrace. They shimmer and shine in the light of the cave, circling the egg with an elegant grace.

In the galleries, Lujayn peers out over the black Istan sands, barely looking at her means of transportation as she vies for a glimpse at the first of the eggs. Said transportation, by name of C'nroy, gets a fleeting grimace as she swats at a buzzing insect. "At least they're not hard to see."

In the galleries, C'nroy turns to Lujayn, who caught a ride with him from Fort and comments. "Beautiful eggs. They do stand out well." a chuckle.

In the galleries, "Hello Izarit." Hillel says, turning his head backwards to look at the woman for the moment before he turns back to the sands and watches the hatching progress. "This is the first time I've seen a dragon clutch. I do not visit Southern Weyr all that often." He tells the hairdresser before looking behind the hairdresser towards the gathering crowd. Many may think he's just being nosey or fopish, but focus on his eyes see that he is taking each person in for a few moments before moving along to the next.

In the galleries, At last even the puddles seem to be drying, the heat of the sun fortuitously chasing away the pesky insects and shining down on the viewers unrelentlessly. Those groups of mouldy algae-like things are also drying out, reducing slipping hazards.

Nolee looks to P'draig, whose arm she's still holding. "Jays, thanks," she manages, squeezing his arm once and disentangling hers from his. "We even got some sunshine for the clutching. Hard to believe when it's been so wet--" she breaks off to laugh at the eager father Jekzith, who is already attending to the first few eggs, watching them closely.

Nalaieth paces about the sands, ill at rest until the sun's dried some of the dampness away. At last she digs a wallow, then seemingly ignores it and digs another in a zigzag. One beat of her wings blurs and hides the motion of her body and when she settles, two more eggs have joined their brethren on the sands, one smudged and one intensely bright.

Scribe's Assistant Egg
This egg is a marvel of perfect proportions -- a smooth, gleaming ellipsoid of shimmering hardness. But closer inspection reveals subtle variations -- here and there are smudges of dirt, dark stains on the smooth perfection. At the bottom of the egg is a strange semi-circle of pale grey, and on top a spot of the same color. Another look reveals another marking on the upper surface -- one that looks strangely like a stylized late-summer Nabolese fruit.

Brilliant Jewel Egg
Though the size of this egg is modest, it stands out from its brethren in a most impressive way. Appearing almost faceted, the curves of the shell scintillate brightly, reflecting back any light in tiny, scattered rainbows with its adamantine brilliance. Flawless and lovely in its crystalline white clarity, one cannot look at this chubby, pear-shaped egg for too long without flinching away, near blinded by its glory.

In the galleries, C'len seems more interested in the activities on the sand than in the galleries, though he does nod to a few others arriving that he recognizes. His legs stretch out in front a bit, crossing at the ankle. He fans himself with his hand, rather ineffectively, but doesn't seem inclined to remove his jacket given the buzzing of the insects.

In the galleries, T'mic hurries in, one hand trailing along the wall for safety, pausing at the entry to scoop out a blob of the insect repellent. He slaps the goo on bare skin as he climbs the steps, then eases into the row of seats that contains Caitlyn. "Sorry," he mumbles as he ducks in front of people's vision. "'Scuse."

In the galleries, Caitlyn nods up at Trace, reaching over to pat his arm with her free hand - the woman smiling thinly. "What're you thinking now?" she murmurs softly to Trace, her words unheard by others in the din.

In the galleries, Catching the wave, Izarit offers an easy one back to Chantha. "Hello, Hillel. Funny, I'd figure you being a dignitary and all, they'd want you to come to all /sorts/ of things. Myself, now--makes sense that I've never seen one. We missed them all the time at Igen, no one ever wants to invite a trader." She pouts. Then, glancing out over the eggs again, rather than to her companion, she notes casually, "I heard you made a mat."

In the galleries, Kamia smiles over at C'len and down at the eggs. "Lots of shimmery onces down there already only one shimmering one in Nari's clutch and it was a queen."

In the galleries, Griere picks carefully along the wet and sand stone, her expression plaintly and completely displeased. She side-steps around a puddle only to have the rush mat skid a little beneath her, leaving her to stumble a little and sour the hard line of her mouth even more.

In the galleries, Chantha dodges out of T'mic's way without taking her eyes off the growing clutch of eggs. "Oh, *shiny*," she breathes, staring down at the newest one. Who cares that it's pear-shaped, it's so pretty! "I take back what I said before, the eggs are beautiful. Definitely better than fowl eggs." She sees Griere stumble, and instinctively moves closer. "Need a hand up, ma'am?"

In the galleries, "Ah see that one." Hillel points to the Brilliant Jewel Egg. "That's an egg. That's a beautiful one. It's stunning. That's how to make an entrance." He turns back to Izarit and grins. "I helped the Weyrwoman." He tells the woman, grinning at her. "How did you find out?"

In the galleries, Trace finally turns his attention down to the eggs and the dragon, watching the clutching quietly for the first few moments...until Caitlyn asks her question. "I'm thinking...why am I here." He says, offering a faint smile at the attempted joke as he glances sideways at Caitlyn. "I'm thinking that it's wierd to be here, watching this...and trying to keep back feelings I had fer so long." His words are quiet as well, likely only for Caitlyn.

In the galleries, "They're all eggs," says Izarit, a hint of scathing in her tone as she waves a hand at the burgeoning clutch. "Anyway, I talked to the Weyrwoman. Arrived just in time for us to stare at your butt--and what a /lovely/ butt it is, too--as you wandered off."

In the galleries, Caitlyn lets her arm slides slowly from Trace, but keeps her presence near the youth - her lips smirking only a little at his humor. "Yeah, I bet it'd be weird. What feelings?"

Nolee actually applauds when the bright egg arrives, though she blinks some at its ...reflectiveness. "Ooh, Patchrag, look at that one! It's something, isn't it? It looks awfully nice next to the flowery one." The goldrider actually tugs on P'draig's sleeve, making certain he's seeing, though he seems stunned enough that he can just manage polite pleasantries and a good degree of awe. "Different when they're his, isn't it?" Nodnod.

Nalaieth ducks her head, pushing at the sand with her paws and her nose, nudging it just so. Once a small hollow of sparkling black sand is deemed satisfactory, she's content to leave an egg behind, but not before fanning it with her wings. Is she aiming to dry it, or see if the speckles will blow right off of the shell?

Dandelion Clocks Egg
Catch sight of this egg out of the corner of your eye and you might think it was moving-- blowing in the wind, maybe. Look at it directly, and you'll see a finely speckled egg of whites, greys, and tans, a pattern that manages to look downy and soft. Along the lower edge, where the egg meets the sand, the coloring turns a deep green.

In the galleries, Lujayn looks towards the sands, not as successful as she may appear at blocking out the words of strangers. All the while an idle smile grows on her face, examining the smudged egg with a squint. "I like that one," She swings her legs and speaks to the air, kicking up a bit of slippery puddle scum. "Looks properly weathered an' all."

In the galleries, By this hour, the algae-like substances have rallied their troops and are sending tufts into the air, little mould-like spores wafting up from the gallery seats to irritate the eyes and nose.

In the galleries, Trace tilts his head slightly at the question. But it's Caitlyn...so he does answer, "Dislike...anger...about my parents and what happened to them, even though it wasn't really their dragons fault. I can't help but feel that way when I see ones I don't know still, no matter how hard I try." Feelings he'd had for so long before he realized the error behind them. As another egg appears he sighs and ducks his head slightly. Everyone else is so happy...

In the galleries, Derik's gaze hasn't left the sands since the first egg was lain out on the sand. With each one that makes it's arrival his excitment level rises a notch. finally he shifts restlessly in his seat, hopping from bench to bench restlessly. Once he glances up to search the faces for someone. Spying Trace and Caitlyn he watches a moment but decides against invading their small area where they sit talking. Instead he looks back to the sands and waits, watching the queen as she hovers over the eggs already there.

In the galleries, "As you can see, even the clutch father and mother comment on it." Hillel turns to look at the hairdresser and gives her a winning smile before he turns back to watch the eggs. "I wonder why she places them like she does." He says aloud. "There must be a reason behind it."

Turning around and around, faster and faster like a laundress wringing the water out of a pile of clean clothes, Nalaieth finally settles down and two just-out-of-the-laundry looking white eggs flop onto the sands. One looks like an old crinkly shirt, the other a forgotten wad of handkerchiefs from someone's pocket.

In the galleries, Caitlyn nods thoughtfully over at Trace, then smiling out at the new arrivals on the dark Sands far below. Her words are murmured, low, only for the youth at her side. "What makes the ones you don't know different from those you *do*...besides the obvious?" Her tones are light, but curious.

In the galleries, Griere holds up a hand but not to take Chantha up on her offer, only to refuse it. "Thank you, no," she pauses there, though, realizing that she doesn't recognize the person to whom she's speaking and allowing her a quick moment to supply her name. "Do you have the count though?"

Big Ole Comfy Shirt Egg
The surface of this large egg is lightly speckled with the imperfections of loosely woven muslin. For all its roundness, the shell gives the impression of being made of soft, well-worn fabric. A closer inspection reveals a texture of crinkles and folds between smoother stretches, like the creamy cloth of a favorite, much-loved shirt.

In the galleries, C'nroy finds a bit of railing and crosses his arms on the top of the rail He rests his chin on his forearms and continues to watch quietly.

Layered Softness Egg
The first sense this small egg gives is one of many layers, each paper-thin bit of whiteness crumpled and smashed up against the other until the final product resembles nothing more than a disheveled lump. It reflects no color, save for what looks like a suspicious off-white smudge buried deep under the topmost layers. Despite these unattractive features, the small egg looks soft and slightly puffed.

In the galleries, Kamia just seems excited, watching the sands intently, and eating cookies.

In the galleries, T'mic plops down into a seat just a couple down from Caitlyn and Trace. He gives the pair a curious look as well as a nod and quick grin, but his attention goes quickly to the sands, and the eggs there.

In the galleries, Caitlyn smiles at T'mic a few rows down, waving to the young man with her fingers.

In the galleries, "Ask her," says Izarit, with a shrug, glancing sideways at Hillel again. "Couldn't tell you myself, you know, not being a dragon and all. I thought this would be more exciting. It's not really, though, is it. Miska /tried/ to tell me, but... They look like really big chicken eggs. I was expecting something more... more."

In the galleries, "Eight, ma'am." Chantha answers Griere almost before the Weyrwoman finishes her questions. "Some of them look a bit odd, but if Nalaieth's not fretting about them, I guess they're fine." Through her excitement, she finally focuses on Griere's shoulderknot and almost trips over her feet in an effort to curtsey. "Clear skies, ma'am. I'm a new resident, name's Chantha, and I'm very pleased to be allowed to stay here at the Weyr..." The babble switch has been tripped.

Nolee's had enough of where she's standing, and she takes a few steps back from P'draig to put her feet back on the stone, where it's cooler. She rubs at her nose, sniffs, then rubs at her nose again, unconsciously, even as she tugs at her blouse to make certain everything's in its proper place. "Keep it up, Nala," she cheers, sneaking up the step to lather more salve on her arms.

In the galleries, "I think that she's a little busy right now, don't you?" Hillel says to Izarit and grins at her before he looks back over his shoulder to Griere's form. "Ah, want to introduce me to the Weyrwoman then?" He asks of the woman next to him. "I've not met her yet."

In the galleries, Kamia swats away some bugs, and offers her compainion some cookies too. "She's going strong.. clutch might get as large as when yours flew her... maybe"

In the galleries, Griere presses up to her toes at the count, peering over heads to get a look at the eggs and, perhaps more specifically, to see these odd ones that seem to be of some minor concern to Chantha. "They look..." But she doesn't finish and instead sets back to her heels to watch the girl as she rattles on. It's a patient, but not particularly interested look. "Yes, well, welcome, Chantha. You're enjoying the clutching?" With that she starts to carefully manuever herself out of the aisle, away from the menacing puddle and mat and toward a spot nearby where she might see better. Having found a better position without further trouble, she then notes Hillel's appearance with a lift of her brows.

In the galleries, "Kintryth all right?" Mic calls over to Caitlyn during a break. "And it's, uh... Traki, right?" he adds to Trace with a pleasant (if vague) nod at the boy. "Shells, these bugs!"

In the galleries, "Dunno that one," says Izarit, with a glance to Griere and a frown overtaking her mouth. "You're the lordling, you ought to be introducing yourself. I'm sure I'm not qualified--never been to one of those big fancy state dinners, you know. But you can introduce me to her, if you like. I could be your date." Big charming smile.
Nalaieth shuffles closer to the gallery wall, sniffing at it. She puffs out a powerful exhalation of air, clearing her nose of mold spores and other allergenic particles. The force of the effort startles her, and when she waddles along, an egg remains, its little hollows already collecting greenish, grasslike dust as it settles.

Dimples Egg
This small, glossy egg is bright white, a striking contrast to the sand in which it's landed, easy to pick out even among all of its like-colored kin. Most interesting about the egg is its uniformly dimpled surface; all over it's pitted with shallow dents, perfectly round and just the size to place a small hand inside. Because of its dimples and high gloss, the egg catches the light and nearly sparkles.

In the galleries, Caitlyn nods to T'mic, her lips turning up in a little smile. "Yes, he's doing grand! How's beautiful baby Aath?" A soft giggle, and she points at her skin, slightly gleaming with the cream upon it. "You shoulda' used the cream in the big pot down there, 'Mic. Keeps the bugs away."

Shielding his eyes a little, P'draig casts Nolee a sheepish grin. "Shiny," he remarks and squints towards where Jekzith is walking back and forth, back and forth, checking each egg and then coming back around to Nalaieth's side to check in with the queen herself. One can practically hear him fussing.

In the galleries, "It's different because...I know them, and I know that they aren't evil and wouldn't harm their riders. But these, and those I don't know...who's to say they wouldn't?" Trace asks, turning his gaze up to Caitlyn for a moment. "Who's to say my parents dragons weren't that way either. All I know is that everyone said they were good, but..."

In the galleries, C'len accepts the cookie, taking a small bite out of the side. "Nala and Vil's clutch wasn't that big, since it was an interval," C'len says. And then he shrugs, "Of course, I guess technically it still is, huh?" The rider idly turns the rest of the cookie around in his hand, attention focused on the clutch. "I hope this one'll be bigger."

In the galleries, Tegara has been slowly slipping down her seat, watching the action, such as it is, with a cursory glance. But it looks like the heat and humidity and the bugs are taking their toll on this mountain-bred woman, and her eyes are slowly slipping closed.

In the galleries, Several visiting dignitaries are subject to a tuft of mildewy spores from one of the algae-like growths in the galleries near their seat. The Lady of the group sneezes several times, then a host of children all looking like her join in.

In the galleries, Chantha has been acknowledged by the Weyrwoman, and thus is a happy little camper. "I am, ma'am. Never saw anything like it before." As Griere sidles on past, she catches a few syllables from Izarit and Hillel's conversation and beckons them over with a smile. By all means introduce themselves, she's friendly enough. No one's head's been bitten off yet.

Dragon> Nalaieth senses that Jekzith noses gently. << It goes well, yes? Look at them, they're all so beautiful. You're doing a great job! Look, there's another good patch of sand /right/ over there. >>

In the galleries, "Then come with me, I'll introduce you." Hillel for his part pushes away from the edge of the Gallery and moves towards Griere. "Weyrwoman. Southern Hold's favorite son bids you and your Weyr a good day." He bows, coming up with a warm broad smile. "My name is Hillel Keron and I'm a Lordling of Southern Hold. My father, Herger sends his greetings and his son to vacation here and meet the lovely people and environs of your Weyr."

In the galleries, C'nroy turns his head to look at Lujayn. "I feel sorry for P'draig. First he had to deal with all of us. Now..." he looks back at the sands. "He'll have another bunch to deal with, and Jekzith's constant worry." his look goes back to the sands. "Kinda makes me proud to have been such a pain in his backside."

Nolee makes it up the steps and is leaning on the railing, rubbing in the repellent lotion, and she giggles for P'draig's comment. "He's doing great, don't worry. Nalaieth wouldn't let him get so close if he weren't." Then, easily bored by the egg-laying process, she turns around to try to find a certain Reachian bronzerider in the audience, squinting and waving his way.

In the galleries, Caitlyn 'ohs' softly to Trace, trying to appear non-judgemental. "Hmm, well, I know me telling you they're NOT bad won't help... So, I think maybe having you meet up with a new dragon or two each sevenday - getting to know them better - would help you with that." A warm smile.

In the galleries, T'mic's grin widens at mention of Aath. "She's fine, just fine. I expect her to rise again soon - I guess - only she hasn't made any signs yet." A shrug for the vagaries of women. "Oh," he continues blithely, "I've got some on. I was talking about generally, you know? I swear I've eaten as many bugs yesterday and today as I did in the last couple of turns."

In the galleries, Kamia shrugs a bit. "But it was a brown that flew her... smaller clutches, though he has been very attentive. His rider's not to bad either. If I was in a condition to follow someone arround, I'd see if I could get him to bake me some goodies." She smiles at him. "I'm glad you're here though. You're good for her. She actually remembers your name." She grins a bit, knowing he should get that.

Fastidious tawny forepaws dig the next hollow, precariously tipping the queen forward. A shuffling gait gets her into position, though it takes long moments held and tensed for this next, illusorily odd-shaped egg to arrive.

In the galleries, Obligingly, Izarit moves to slip her arm into Hillel's as she tags along with him, at a somewhat slower pace: she's picking her foot placements carefully on the algaeic stone. She says nothing at first, simply offering a smile, and nod of her head to Griere, and then, not-so-subtly, an elbow to Hillel and a pointed look before she abandons that and instead broadens her smile. "Weyrwoman. Izarit Giordani," is her own much simpler greeting.

A Sprinkle of Seasoning Egg
Departing from a traditional oval shape, this egg is rather lumpen in appearance, almost seeming to have 'sides.' From afar, the shell has an unrelieved, even look, its color a flat shade of bright white. But when one moves near, the smooth image transitions into something akin to a rough granularity -- multitudes of tiny, clearish-white cubic bits liberally peppering the egg's surface. A stray, dull glint or two can be observed to twinkle here and there when the light is just right.

In the galleries, Caitlyn seems to fluidly shift her attention back and forth between Trace and T'mic, smiling amiably at both. "Oh jays...so soon again?" the bluerider mutters to the greenrider at word of Aath's potential to rise - the woman them grinning down at Mic.

In the galleries, Trace smirks slightly, "Who's ta say that any dragons would want ta meet me...or that I would want to meet them." He says, then stands, "I'm going to go out for a little bit." He says, thrn turns without another word to head down the stairs, brushing past others on his way by without a word.

In the galleries, Caitlyn blinks, looks about to say something...then shakes her head silently, watching Trace leave.

In the galleries, Lujayn pushes a strand of wilting hair behind one ear, clearly tired of the humidity. "I didn't think he was going to be weyrling master for Ista." She frowns for just a moment, but returns to sliding her feet in algae at the sign of another egg. "Lots of shiny ones this time, but what's with the white?"

In the galleries, Derik chats excitedly to the boy seated next to them, the pair of them as eager as anything to see more eggs emerge. They both point and talk about specific eggs, passing time between them until Nala lays another one. As she does, Derik oohs softly and points. It's obvious he's found his favorite egg to date. "I bet that one has a tiny little green in it." he confides to the lad he's beside. "They are all so...whiteish."

In the galleries, Caitlyn slides down a few seats, managing to work her way next to T'mic after Trace leaves - the woman sighing, then focusing her attention on all the eggs below.

In the galleries, C'nroy grins at his travel partner. "Worse. He's gonna feel in a way they're his own children. Seems to be something that they go through." Again his chin goes down to his forearms and the brownrider watches.

In the galleries, Chantha lets Hillel and Izarit make nice with Griere (a real live Southern lordling!) in order to keep watching, and to try and find a spot without wee flying biters to annoy her. She ends up near Lujayn, and grins as she overhears the Fortian. "Maybe it's so she can find the eggs at night or something."

In the galleries, Allergies beware! A man from Gar is scratching at his face, trying to brush away the mouldy spores, while his young son chases the dust-mote sized tufts higher with deep breaths of air.

In the galleries, T'mic follows Trace with his eyes, looking bemused, then hastily brushes off the wet before the bluerider seats herself. "Rude kid," he offers, nodding then toward the eggs. "Nice looking clutch, though. Have the bets started yet?"

In the galleries, "Yes, it is a unique sight," the Weyrwoman agrees with Chantha. And as it looks like Griere's chances to watch the eggs are about to grow slimmer, she steals another look towards the sands before Hillel and Izarit approach. "Ista's duties to your Hold," she tells the lordling, her smile polite but thin. "How lucky we are that you find yourself unneeded at the Hold for such a visit to our Weyr. Welcome. Will you be with us long?"" She catches C'nroy's sympathy for the clutchsire's situation and shoots him a quick, sharp look, then it's back to wearing her well-practiced smile for those that surround her. "Izarit, welcome," she says with a nod.

In the galleries, A hint of a blush touches C'len's face at Kamia's words, but it's followed by a grin. "The bigger it is, the better it'll be for the weyr. If all the clutches are larger..." he trails off with a shrug. Then he gestures between Nala and Kamia and says, perhaps somewhat tactlessly, "I guess you probably feel a bit like she does?" And then, as if realizing the mistake, "Uh, I mean, not that you're as big as a dragon, but..." he trails off.

Nalaieth> Jekzith senses that Nalaieth reaches out with ivory-streamed amber, eager, but tiring. << You really think so? They are all so ... pale. >> A swirling silence, velvet-coated, << But they seem healthy! Oh, right over this way? >>

In the galleries, "Oh, thanks 'Mic," Caitlyn murmurs at her companion's sluicing away of the water, then seating herself beside him. "Hm..he can be, like any other kid. But Trace has some deep issues, so I let him get away with it, sometimes." She cranes her neck to see the eggs better, then grins over at the greenrider. "Oh, you damned well KNOW bets have been on already. Probably just getting all the more heated. I'd join in, but I have bad luck that way..."

In the galleries, Kamia lets out a laugh that's almost a giggle. "I've got serveral months before I feel like that. Unless it's twins.. please help me, don't let it be twins.. though I'm sure it's not"

In the galleries, Lujayn shrugs. "Well, they /are/ Jekzith's children. Maybe one of those things that gets carried over." She leaning over to get a better look at this algae, reaching out to put a finger in it when she hears Derik's remark. A like-minded person is far more interesting than smelly growth. "Yeah." She chimes in easily with the boy. "I've never seen a clutch like this one, with everything so similar."

Nalaieth looks up at the stands, curves her sinuous neck away shyly, then looks up again. Into the next pair of wallows, two eggs are deposited, almost like gifts.

Surprise Inside Egg
Even as this smooth-looking egg rests on the sands, there's a sense of softness and comfort surrounding it. The gentle flows of white, ivory, and cream coloration seem more to wrap themselves around it than to be part of this egg, as if presenting the egg as a gift. Imperfections that almost look like the color has folded on itself appear here and there with several clustering at the top and bottom of the oblong shape. In places it looks as if the shell is thinner than in others, as if you could see through it if you held up a glow basket close enough. The longer one looks at this simple yet stunning egg, the more anticipation begins to set in, like a child on the morning of their turnday.

Opal Shimmer Egg
Lightness shivers across a porcelain background, the colors so faint and pale the quick observer might name the egg merely ivory. But muted, ashen hues glimmer within the depths: just-dawn lavender, bleached sunshine, spring green rewarding the observant. The mid-sized egg is almost perfectly round, though hints of shadow and subtle pockmarks suggest an extreme age and patience as though it already knows all the secrets of creation and is waiting to share them.

In the galleries, Hillel looks towards Izarit as she places her arm around his. "Excuse me." He gently pats her arm and slides his own out of her grip before he smiles to Griere. "Thank you, Weyrwoman. I'll be here for a while, and yes. I have two brothers, My Lady. They are well enough around." He nods his head. "I'm sure my father will be overjoyed at your hospitality." His eyes are quite narrowed before he turns back and walks along back towards his spot.

In the galleries, Noemie has been here the whole time, playing the social butterfly and greeting a friend here, a fellow rider there, as she tries to both make her way through the crowd and watch as the eggs appear, one by one, on the sands. And then she spots her fellow pregnant greenrider, greeting her warmly as she tries to part the crowd to reach her. "Kamia!"

P'draig inches towards the edge of the Galleries, not having remembered to trade sandals for boots due to the heat and wet and though he doesn't walk up far, winds up in the bottom row of the stands, looking upward into the crowd that's gathered to watch. "C'nroy? Lu? That you?" he spots some familiar faces.

In the galleries, Derik hops up after the two newest eggs make their appearance. He scans again the crowds, this time spying Hillel. Making his way to the lordling he plops down beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "Hey...didja see those newest eggs? This is soo awesome!" he exclaims softly. "You sure are lucky to be here to see this. Gonna have plenty to tell all your friends back home about."

In the galleries, Kamia smiles from where she is sitting with C'len and waves back with a cookied hand, she has cookies in her lap too. Luckily, Kamia doesn't reallylook pregnany yet.

In the galleries, T'mic echoes, dismissive, "Issues. Whatever -that- means. Kid's never been nothing but rude to me. --Oh now, say. /That's/ a lovely one." Dark head nods toward the Surprise Inside egg. "Betcha that's a green."

In the galleries, C'nroy turns his head and eyes from the eggs. He raises his head up and raises an arm to wave. "Yes, Sir." he grins.

Dragon> Nalaieth senses that Jekzith is very confident: << They are fine, look at how lovely they are. Each one is different up close. They are not similar at all, really. >>

Nolee has spotted C'len and Kamia in the stands, and she squints their way, trying to be certain before she waves brightly, hand above her head, blocking the view of some watchers, then unfortunately sneezing on them as well. Making her apologies, she backs away, then tries to cover her awkwardness by looking out, all poised-like, at the sands.

In the galleries, Chantha's gazes is riveted on the opal shimmer egg. "Oh, that one's...wow." Sudee never had anything like this, and likely never will. "If there was to be a gold, it'd be from that one," she whispers.

In the galleries, "Thanks, Weyrwoman," says Izarit, with another smile, and a somewhat thinner glance sideways at Hillel when he extricates himself from her. "Don't let us interrupt you, though," the trader remarks; she can apparently read that expression on Griere's face well enough. She takes a careful step back, mostly behind Hillel, at which point her nose wrinkles. "In fact," she notes, clearing her throat, "I see someone I haven't spoken to yet, so if you'll excuse me. Weyrwoman," and then she's off, inching over the damp moldy stone toward T'mic and Caitlyn. "Caitlyn, Mic. Haven't seen /you/ in a while," she tells the greenrider lightly.

In the galleries, Hillel gives a partially offended look at the nudge from the young man. "Give me a moment." He turns to look at Izarit and smiles at her. "Izarit, please come and see me later. Yow owe me a tour, remember?" He winks, looking back towards Derik and grins a little thinly at Derik. "We do have Weyrs, Derik. I just do not go to them." He offers, sliding back into his seat as he sighs. "Hmm."

In the galleries, Caitlyn shrugs, shaking her head at T'mic. "I give him hell over it sometimes. I think he *is* getting better, though." SHe too is happier to focus on the eggs, nodding sagely. "Nice, yes... Of course *I* like that one...being what I am, of course." Her finger juts out in the direction of the glittering jewel egg.

In the galleries, Griere nods to Hillel's account, but his expression and departure earn a odd look from the goldrider. She turns the look to Izarit, as if the girl might be able to give her some insight. but she too is eager to slip away. With another nod, Griere finds herself with a moment to check the eggs again. She sniffs at the close, musty air and frowns once more.

Nalaieth> Jekzith senses that Nalaieth absorbs the confidence, drawing strength and energy from it. << There are more, >> she assures. << More than last time. I can feel them. I hope they are different as well. But not... >> an image, a lumpen green grainy image, taken from the memory of her rider, << Ill-seeming, like that one. Strong! Healthy! >> Coy now, << Like you. >>

In the galleries, Noemie squeezes into a spot besides Kamia-- still possible for her to do, since she isn't showing much yet, either. "Lovely eggs, aren't they?" She comments, squinting out onto the sands for a better look at the newest ones. "Oh, and good evening, bronzerider," she adds, so as not to be rude.

The queen's next choice is an indent that hasn't thoroughly dried, and the more she digs, the more water appears in the hole. Her wings ripple, and there's a soft plop as the next egg splashes down into the damp, appearing already quite at home in the warm Istan water.

Bivalve Abode Egg
White but not starkly so, this egg is the dull, unremarkable shade of bone, mottled and dotted with sandy brown, pastel pink, and pale lavender. Yet the pattern of faint gray lines and shallow impressions make this small orb anything but dull. It seems as if it has been plastered with an endless number of seashells in varying sizes and shapes, scalloping in curving arches across the smooth surface. The soft ridge-like shadows gather together in a million little fans with rippling, ruffled edges forming an intricate mosaic of creamy shades.

In the galleries, Falk croons softly towards the sands as if offering encouragement to the queen and the brown sire of the eggs. Derik doesn't seem to notice the offended look. "Well of /course/ you have weyrs but they aren't /this/ one." he grins at Hillel lopsidedly. "And you aren't there but yah is here, at ISta right now when they are clutching. So what do you think? This is the first clutch I've ever seen happen so I think it's pretty neat." he says with enthusiasm. He's an hyper young man. He grasps Hillel's arm with one hand and points with the other. "Lookit!? Didja see that?!"

In the galleries, Kamia smiles and scoots a bit, to make more room on her to sit with her on her mat, curling up on the older rider's shoulder. She chuckles a bit an waves back to Nolee. "She reminds me of my kid sister... I don't care that she's older then me."

In the galleries, Lujayn's friendly expression hardly falters, turning away from Derik with a flip of tawny hair. The snubbed eagerness becomes a happy shout. "Hey, Paddy!" The runner stands up so quickly that she loses her footing in the pool of algae she'd been smearing around, if only for one unbalanced moment, still beaming down at the Fortian rider. "Black sands like you said, but they can keep the bugs.."

In the galleries, T'mic says "'F he doesn't like dragons so much, he shouldn't be at a Weyr," only to grin at Cait for her ogling of the Opal egg. "Why'm I not... Izzy!" He bounces to his feet at the trader's approach. "It's been too long, and me without marks, too. How's your family doing?"

In the galleries, Derik obviously missed anything Lujayn may have said to him in his excitment over another egg appearing.

In the galleries, The sneezing is spreading, and even some of the unaffected are wise to be wary of sudden hachoo showers from nearby spectators. Fortunately, thick, dark clouds are rolling in overhead, providing the potential for more rain and welcoming the biting insects back to be a nuisance.

In the galleries, Hillel's hand reaches down and gently pries Derik's hand from his arm. His grip is extremely strong. "Careful, old hurt there." He says, turning back towards the sand. "That will be a soggy dragon, I'm sure." A laugh comes before he looks at the sands. "How many now?"

In the galleries, Caitlyn shrugs again, watching Nalaieth lay yet another ovoid, smiling at the golden mother. She has no problems with the *dragon*. She replies to T'mic, "So I said. But he's rarely at the Weyr-proper, these days. Dockhand. And he likes the dragons well enough after he gets to know them...he adores Kintryth, for sure." Izarit's approach makes Cait look up and wave to the Trader-cum-barber before she responds to 'Mic again, "No family."

In the galleries, "Oh, sorry!" comes Derik's quick apology. "Um..." he pauses a moment to peer intently at the sands, trying to count. "one...three..six..." he keeps counting quietly. "Over 10." he finally concludes. "she's blocking some of them. Oh I'm sure the rain will end sometime before the eggs hatch." he comments.

Dragon> Nalaieth senses that Jekzith sounds absolutely thrilled. << There are more. That is excellent. And they are all clean and healthy. >> Gently he bolsters Nala mentally.

In the galleries, "Mmhmm, of course, my lord," agrees Izarit without looking back, a hand lifted in acknowledgement of Hillel's request. "I think," she tells T'mic then, stopping to place her hands on her hips, "that /you/ have been avoiding me. You better explain yourself, mister." But she's grinning all the same, and relaxes quickly. "We're all right, considering. Still hanging about--out of pretty shiny things to sell, so they've got me doing hair these days. I did the Weyrwoman Nolee's, doesn't it look so pretty now? /Much/ better."

In the galleries, Noemie puts a friendly arm around the greenrider leaning against her, using the other to add a friendly wave back to Nolee, as well. "Does she? I guess she reminds me, just a tad, of my younger sister too, now that you mention it." She notices the cookies then, glancing down at Kamia's pile. "Mind if I steal one?"

Nolee half-listens into what she can hear of the clutchsire's fellow Fortians's comments, though Kamia's wave has her repeating her action, then sighing as she slips on a damp mat. More sand is requested as those clouds roll in overhead.

In the galleries, "Hrm." Hillel offers before he looks around the others. "Fifteen. Three Marks on it." The young lordling calls out, pulling three of them out and holding it up. "Any takers?"

"Good to see you C'nroy, whoa Lu, carefully," P'draig says laughingly as the runner bobbles a little. "Black sand indeed and it looks like a good clutch too," the brownrider looks out towards the eggs and the two dragons busy around them. "Glad you could both make it."

There's a brief nap before the next eggs arrive, Nalaieth waking suddenly and fussing across the sands, barely finishing one hollow before a pair of eggs arrive -- one very small, one very large.

Unfurling Blossom Egg
One of the smallest of the clutch, the shell of this egg seems to have folds and creases in it, drawn by the silvery wisps curling along the egg's surface and hinting at the delicate blossom of a white rose unfurling in the gentle presence of the sun. Light rays play across the oval egg's apex - off white, pale yellow egg white, bleached white and bright white - highlighting soft dewdrops clinging to texture of petals.

In the galleries, Derik's eyes widen slightly at Hillel. At the mention of bet he starts to show excitment though it fades quickly as the amount of marks mentioned is three. So he says nothing, looking back to the eggs to watch another one arrive.

Squishy Puffed Sweets Egg
Large, lumpen, and vaguely menacing, this white ovoid's apex and base are difficult to tell apart. From a distance, the egg appears almost sticky, almost squishy, like it would have a spongy sort of give, and yet cling to one's fingers if one dared to caress the shell. Up close, it's clear that it's just an egg, though those two odd dots of bluish-black along one side seem to be watching, following, and waiting for an opportune moment to unleash the beast within.

In the galleries, C'nroy nods. "Had to pull a double swap to get free, but managed it." he pauses to take in the newest arrivals on the sands, smiling. "Looks like Jekzith is doing pretty well." he observes.

In the galleries, "Little, ah, /small/ for a dockhand," T'mic suggests, offering one of his own arms as comparison. "Ah, Izzy, you know I'd never avoid you! But no marks means no pretty things for me, and there's no point wasting your time now, is there?" He sweeps her magnificently to a seat as he lowers himself as well. "Caitlyn, 've you met Izzy? Izzy, this is Caitlyn, Kintryth's and Wingleader."

Jekzith noses at the dual arrivals, digging out another hollow and edging one of the two away from its partner, burying it carefully in the warm black sand so only a bit of it peeks out. He huffs a breath over it as if to say, "There." And then turns back to see how Nalaieth's faring.

In the galleries, Chantha would take Hillel's bet--she's counting on eighteen, herself--save that she has exactly one eighth-mark piece to her name, and she's saving it for a rainy day. Or one rainier than Ista's currently having. She just shakes her head and shifts a bit more out of the way as more people come in, inadvertently bracing herself on an arriving rider. "Beg pardon, sir."

In the galleries, Kamia hands over a couple of her cookies to Noemie, smiling at her, and uses her shoulder as a pillow, watching the egg.

In the galleries, Lujayn scoots forward as much as she can manage, smirking at the offer of a bet. "It'll be at least sixteen." She calls back, but no offer is made. "Paddy, maybe you know the big secret. How'd all the eggs end up white?"

In the galleries, Caitlyn chuckles when Mic introduces Izzy to her. "Yep, we've met a few times already. Heya, Izzy." A look of humor is given to T'mic. "What can I say, he does certain jobs he's fit for, right now."

In the galleries, O'lin walks down the stairs towards the entrance.

In the galleries, "Well, no pretty things now, for any amount of marks," remarks Izarit wistfully. "But if you need a little trim..." Without much hope, she eyes T'mic's close-cropped hair. "Or know anyone else who does," she amends. A nod to Caitlyn confirms the bluerider's words, accompanied by a smile toward her.

Nalaieth's rest has her improving somewhat, and she croons encouragingly to Jekzith for his tender care of the recently-arrived pair of eggs, taking the moment to rest before she starts inspecting them herself.

In the galleries, "Ooh, I like that one," Noemie comments of the most recent arrival, taking a bite of cookie and munching happily as she assesses it further. "It looks... intriguing." The cookie's gone in just a few bites, and then she licks her fingers of whatever crumbs are left.

In the galleries, Kamia chuckles at her too."You're as bad as I am Noemie... I want some seasoned herdbeast steak though."

In the galleries, "You -and- your cousin...?" T'mic begins, only to be distracted by words only now burrowing into his brain. "...Did someone say /three/ marks? Shells, who has that kind of money?" Up he stands - half-stands - peering about at the audience. No more eggs for him, not just now.

P'draig looks over towards where Jekzith is fussing again. "Mm, he's in his element sort of. Able to get his nose into everything," says the Fortian Weyrlingmaster with a fond grin for the brown. "Why're they all white? Well if you look closely enough, they've all got some shading and color in them. Just not as bright as some." He doesn't look fussed about it at all. "Different dragons make different eggs."

(continued in next entry)