Log: In which eggs are touched!
Date: Day 24, Month 13, Turn 23 of Interval 10
Summary: Candidates - including Misar and Ronsen - finally get a chance to touch some eggs. Teris and Taikrin supervise; Iskiveth and Szadath play weird dragon games.
NorCon MUSH - 10/18/2010
-------------------------
Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr(#290RJs)
Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.
The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.
Commands: +list/eggs | +view/egg <#>
Obvious exits:
Sands Bowl
Misar heads up a short flight of stairs from the bowl.
Misar has arrived.
There haven't been all that many opportunities to touch the eggs as the inevitable date of their hatching draws nearer: too much uncertainty in what they contain has kept enthusiasm relatively low. But there /have/ been a couple of chances for small groups, and this is another one-such. There are a handful to whom word has been passed, who have been called to gather in the hatching galleries where Taikrin awaits, impatiently.
Loitered about near what can be considered the average 'back' of a crowd that small, Misar stands not in one of the few huddles eying either the eggs or the equally questionable Taikrin. His hands deep in his front pockets, he stretches his arms tight, forcing his shoulders up and his posture to appear slouching. It's a posture of general boredom -- but his gaze does not follow suit. Sharp, greyed eyes lock onto the sands with a singular intensity having nothing to do with the way he rocks back on his heels or lets out a low, pining whistle.
"-- fightin', no runnin', an' if you cause a ruckus I reckon Iskiveth an' Szadath probably are gonna eat you. So." Riot act read, Taikrin shrugs noncommitally. She's not looking a whole lot better than she has been, though the heat of the sands has brought a flush to her pale cheeks. Her gaze rakes over the gathered candidates, briefly sharp, before she lapses back into her disaffected slouch. "After me."
You head down a short set of stairs to the hatching sands.
Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr
Whether one enters from the main bowl entrance or one of the smaller tunnels at the back of the cavern, golden-brown sand glitters and swelters in every direction. Close inspection reveals that while the large egg pieces have been gathered up, small fragments remain mixed into the hot sand, record of a thousand hatchings. The main source of light is a huge window of sky high in the wall that also serves as an aerial entrance, its overhang just deep enough to admit light and cooler air but fend off harsher weather.
The sands' setting designs them to be the focus of the vast amphitheater, with tiers upon tiers of galleries rising up its southwestern side near the tunnel to the bowl, and rings of dragon ledges higher yet: heat and architecture combining into what can be a palpable sense of pressure.
Contents:
Iskiveth
Szadath(#1824Qabe$0)
Obvious exits:
Galleries
Misar heads down a short set of stairs from the hatching galleries.
Misar has arrived.
Likely nobody was really set on running /towards/ the eggs, so the pace onto the sands is certainly up to Taikrin's set standards. Misar remains hanging behind in the outcast's spot, finding no comfort in numbers. From the first foot step onto actual hatching grounds, his bland face shows a touch more emotion, though it isn't immediately recognizable as to what. Simply, focused eyes hone in on not the closest egg but what portion of them are not being crowded by others. Given the chance, he tries to dart his way as unseen as possible towards some less tread path and whatever should be slowly cooking there in egg-form.
Szadath is off to the side, attempting to entertain Iskiveth by... digging a trench? Who knows. But he's certainly enthusiastic about the piles of sand that are building up to either side. He doesn't appear terribly concerned about the small group of candidates trooping onto the sands, and doesn't even acknowledge them beyond a cursory glance. Once she gains the sands, Taikrin waves the group on, though she has a harsh glance Ronsen and Simaron that they meet with bright smiles. As Misar is at the end of the bunch, he's lucky enough to be graced with a low, snarky, "Face's lookin' better, Mynar."
Not worried with anything like showing up when the candidates do, Teris is taking her time about being on the sands. She does appear in the galleries after a short time, however, which is probably good considering the way that Iskiveth is watching the small group making their way onto /her/ sands where /her/ eggs are. Her attention for Szadath isn't very focused for just that reason but she does remain near him. With the way her wings are partially mantled, that's probably also for the best.
"I'm flattered you'd notice," pipes up Misar with a swift, pitying glance for the aloneness he'd been seeking further away as he slows to give Taikrin a smile not at all deterred by her tone. Hands still bunched into his pockets, he looks to be almost constantly shrugging. "Though you should really take more pride in your work. If the 'slightly beaten' look is what I wanted, maybe I'm lookin' worse." But, ultimately, 'better' as far as purpled swollen skin goes; whatever icing the boy did before and after has done a fair trick, and now time has helped. "Give my regards to the proud father. He looks..." His gaze flickers towards Szadath, calculating a moment. Finally, coming up with: "... Industrious."
"Looks like an idiot, he does." An idiot that Taikrin is terribly, grudgingly fond of, despite whatever quarrel they might be having. If he's offended, he gives no sign. Now that his trench is dug, he sets to building up little mounds of sand on first one side, then the other. Heeey Iskiveth check it oooout~~~. "Hey, you're th'one who had all sorts of great ideas. Don't lookit me if it don't turn out how you want." She moves off from the side, trailing the candidates towards the first of the few eggs-- ostentibly to keep an eye on them, but mostly just to gawk at what they're doing. "Y'got a favorite?"
Look! They're not even paying attention to her! Iskiveth snaps at the air in Szadath's direction but since no one is running in panicked fear due to her subdued efforts, the pointy queen finally pulls her whirling eyes away from the candidates and focuses on the brown. Wait. What /is/ he doing? Now she has to know. Teris watches for a few moments more from the galleries, then starts making her way to the sands proper, approaching in Taikrin's general direction while watching the unknown variables do their thing.
Misar has half an eye for the queen's antics, make no mistake, but he does it on the sly while making a scan of the eggs at the question's behest. "No," he finally declares to Taikrin, "No favorites. I like to give myself scope." A glance back to the brownrider from the egg-watching endeavor catches Teris' approach and he gives a vague nod in that direction. "M'lady nears..." And, in hoping the greeting sends Taikrin's attention thatta way, he makes to go-- the other way-- while one or the other is distracted.
When all is said and done, there are thirteen lumps on either side of the trench: six on one side, and seven on the other. Szadath takes up position on the side with fewer mounds, tail twitching rapidly back and forth like feline's. "Ain't no harm in playin' favorites. Can't hurt. Don't rightly know which egg Szad came from, but probably it's one I touched." She's so confident in that! At Misar's gesture, she glances over her shoulder to offer a lopsided smile to Teris. "'Course I reckon I was one of th'only ones who touched th'gold egg, an' she turned into Iskiveth. So..."
Iskiveth glances between the candidates and then back to the mounds and Szadath. She follows his lead and takes up position similarly on the side with more mounds, eyeing him with a flicker of familiar red tinging the whirl of her eyes. "It just as likely won't help, though. To have favorites, I mean." Teris isn't much help as she comes closer, gracing Taikrin with a brief smile. "I'm sure I touched her egg, though," she adds, glancing off toward the gold as she speaks.
Given the opening he desired, Misar's off like a dart away from the prattling riders to find some of that aloneness he sought with the eggs. Somewhat more difficult what with them divided and presided over, but he's opted for Iskiveth's side and there he stays, taking small steps that narrow in on the rotund shapes. There was a first sweeping look to chart the progress of his fellows, but then a certain peace in solitude washes all that concentrated wily behavior from his face. It's with decided, and strange, reverence that he stares upon this gaudy bright patterning ahead.
"I dunno... reckon maybe I might'a touched it first," Taikrin teases back to Teris, slipping across the sands to stand beside her: here, they are the lords of all they survey! "Don't know as how I wouldn'a gone crazy, if we ended up crossed dragons, y'know?" She folds arms across her chest, loosely, squinting out over the candidates as they peruse the eggs. "Y'think this touchin' really makes a difference to them? Th'Weyrwoman once told me she thought-- maybe. What does Iskiveth think?" Which is apparently what Szadath is interested in, too. He ever-so-carefully pokes a hole with one talon into the top of his sandy pile, digging around until he comes up with-- a stick? He plants it carefully onto the side of the mound then looks to Iskiveth expectently.
"You're certainly welcome to come take some of my paperwork off of my hands for me whenever you like, Taikrin," smiles Teris. "Just to make sure you impressed the right one, you know." The blonde settles into a typically straight and not especially relaxed stance, arms crossing over her chest, as she continues to watch the candidates. "I don't know, honestly. Maybe. Iskiveth doesn't care one way or the other for all I can tell, though." The gold in question watches Szadath and his stick, then looks at one of her mounds to, much less subtly, rake a perpetually stained paw over.
It's a reverence in Misar that might be shared with every egg down the line -- a theory never quite tested when he's all and completely distracted by one particular bright seeming glow. One very, very tempting glow. It means picking his way nearer the queen, but he dares it with a glance up and for what she's doing. Hard boot bottoms sinking and rising in the wake of the moved sand, he isn't the only one. There's another, heftier candidate licking his lips like he's eyeing dinner instead of a potential baby dragon, on his way towards the flames. As he stretches out a grubby hand, the stick of a blond boy ducks forward and underneath that arm, his own rising to ensure that it's Misar who touches this One first.
"Oh yeah, paperwork. 'Cause I'm /real/ good at that kind'a stuff." Despite all her tutoring, Taikrin's writing is still barely better than chicken scratch-- but at least she's okay with that. "Reckon this gig's gettin' me all th'fun an' none of the work, eh? Catchin's more my gig, anyways." At least having Teris here has raised Taikrin's mood somewhat: she's downright effusive compared to the withdrawal of the last few sevendays. Szadath rumbles his delight as Iskiveth unearths her 'treasure', and makes short work of digging up a big hunk of lava stone next and placing it atop the mound. "Oi, you two--!" Yes, Taikrin is paying attention to Misar and the larger candidate, and her reprimand is sharp-- enough to make the hefty boy stop with his arm half-stretched to shove Misar away. "Be good!"
"Mm," agrees Teris quietly. "Fun's not really my thing so I guess it worked out all right." She is smiling, though, she's even looking at the brownrider for a couple moments until her gaze is back out on the eggs when Taikrin reprimands the boys, her own eyes narrowing slightly. Iskiveth twists her angular head around to give them all an oddly similar look as her rider, but then she turns back to reform her pile somewhat and settle the piece of bone that was inside on top of it. She picks another after Szadath has revealed his lava stone and this time she's more careful about it when she uncovers a smooth river rock and places it atop the mound, all the while keeping a bit of her attention on the candidates.
"Good /and/ better~" carols Misar, who was caught staring down his impending attack and now slithers away from its halted trajectory. He goes right on around the chosen egg of flames, his hand trailing along its side, until it's solidly between him and riders as much as possible. Out of sight... etc, etc. All done quickly, but not without a last second timed antagonizing wink at the candidate-who-couldn't when the target's the only one who can see it. This puts his back to the now somewhat attentive Iskiveth, which would be more disturbing but for an unwavering examination of the treasured egg.
"I mean it, Ronsen. Watch yerself." Taikrin gets a muleish look in response, but the candidate backs down and shuffles off-- though not before glaring menacingly at Misar from around the egg. "I guess," she picks up the thread of conversation with Teris, but some of the joy has gone out of it. She looks... rattled. "Fun. Guess I'll just, uh. Have t'have enough for both of us." Szadath spares a concerned look for the almost-fight, but then he's back to unearthing the rest of his sand-army: another rock, a split twig, the thigh bone from a large herbivore.
"I think it's time to wrap this up, perhaps?" Teris asides to Taikrin with a vaguely concerned lingering of her gaze on the other woman. "Iskiveth is getting agitated anyhow." Not that that's terribly unusual for the dragon. "And I guess you will just have to have all of the fun." She smiles but her words might not be the most convincing. Iskiveth leaves the candidates for their riders to deal with and goes about uncovering the rest of her own army, warbling a small challenge as she sets the quartz-speared rock on top of its mound. The people might all leave but they're going to continue their battle!
And timely enough for the candidates, too -- some of which look none too confident that the bone unearthed is truly, in fact, from an herbivore at all. For Misar it will take a little more convincing; he's become attached enough to the company of the egg to plant himself there, ignoring of the dragons and the riders who still exist about, as if he has some right to this space, too. But only the tips of his fingers now really trace the outer shell, less than the palm that was planted to show supremacy over Ronsen.
Thankfully, Szadath has more or less completely focused on his sand-army, tail-twitching violently as he pushes his stick-topped mound towards the trench. Surely there are some complex hierarchy rules to the game that the dragons are sharing, though it's pretty difficult to discern for an outsider - like Taikrin, for one. "Yeah, uh-- reckon you're right." She tears her baffled gaze away from the pair to look back over the candidates. "Alright, you lot-- you're botherin' the, uh--" She breaks off from the obvious lie, choosing instead, "-- well, us! So-- get outta here. Y'can come back later. Ain't you all got chores or somethin'?"
Summary: Candidates - including Misar and Ronsen - finally get a chance to touch some eggs. Teris and Taikrin supervise; Iskiveth and Szadath play weird dragon games.
NorCon MUSH - 10/18/2010
-------------------------
Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr(#290RJs)
Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.
The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.
Commands: +list/eggs | +view/egg <#>
Obvious exits:
Sands Bowl
Misar heads up a short flight of stairs from the bowl.
Misar has arrived.
There haven't been all that many opportunities to touch the eggs as the inevitable date of their hatching draws nearer: too much uncertainty in what they contain has kept enthusiasm relatively low. But there /have/ been a couple of chances for small groups, and this is another one-such. There are a handful to whom word has been passed, who have been called to gather in the hatching galleries where Taikrin awaits, impatiently.
Loitered about near what can be considered the average 'back' of a crowd that small, Misar stands not in one of the few huddles eying either the eggs or the equally questionable Taikrin. His hands deep in his front pockets, he stretches his arms tight, forcing his shoulders up and his posture to appear slouching. It's a posture of general boredom -- but his gaze does not follow suit. Sharp, greyed eyes lock onto the sands with a singular intensity having nothing to do with the way he rocks back on his heels or lets out a low, pining whistle.
"-- fightin', no runnin', an' if you cause a ruckus I reckon Iskiveth an' Szadath probably are gonna eat you. So." Riot act read, Taikrin shrugs noncommitally. She's not looking a whole lot better than she has been, though the heat of the sands has brought a flush to her pale cheeks. Her gaze rakes over the gathered candidates, briefly sharp, before she lapses back into her disaffected slouch. "After me."
You head down a short set of stairs to the hatching sands.
Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr
Whether one enters from the main bowl entrance or one of the smaller tunnels at the back of the cavern, golden-brown sand glitters and swelters in every direction. Close inspection reveals that while the large egg pieces have been gathered up, small fragments remain mixed into the hot sand, record of a thousand hatchings. The main source of light is a huge window of sky high in the wall that also serves as an aerial entrance, its overhang just deep enough to admit light and cooler air but fend off harsher weather.
The sands' setting designs them to be the focus of the vast amphitheater, with tiers upon tiers of galleries rising up its southwestern side near the tunnel to the bowl, and rings of dragon ledges higher yet: heat and architecture combining into what can be a palpable sense of pressure.
Contents:
Iskiveth
Szadath(#1824Qabe$0)
Obvious exits:
Galleries
Misar heads down a short set of stairs from the hatching galleries.
Misar has arrived.
Likely nobody was really set on running /towards/ the eggs, so the pace onto the sands is certainly up to Taikrin's set standards. Misar remains hanging behind in the outcast's spot, finding no comfort in numbers. From the first foot step onto actual hatching grounds, his bland face shows a touch more emotion, though it isn't immediately recognizable as to what. Simply, focused eyes hone in on not the closest egg but what portion of them are not being crowded by others. Given the chance, he tries to dart his way as unseen as possible towards some less tread path and whatever should be slowly cooking there in egg-form.
Szadath is off to the side, attempting to entertain Iskiveth by... digging a trench? Who knows. But he's certainly enthusiastic about the piles of sand that are building up to either side. He doesn't appear terribly concerned about the small group of candidates trooping onto the sands, and doesn't even acknowledge them beyond a cursory glance. Once she gains the sands, Taikrin waves the group on, though she has a harsh glance Ronsen and Simaron that they meet with bright smiles. As Misar is at the end of the bunch, he's lucky enough to be graced with a low, snarky, "Face's lookin' better, Mynar."
Not worried with anything like showing up when the candidates do, Teris is taking her time about being on the sands. She does appear in the galleries after a short time, however, which is probably good considering the way that Iskiveth is watching the small group making their way onto /her/ sands where /her/ eggs are. Her attention for Szadath isn't very focused for just that reason but she does remain near him. With the way her wings are partially mantled, that's probably also for the best.
"I'm flattered you'd notice," pipes up Misar with a swift, pitying glance for the aloneness he'd been seeking further away as he slows to give Taikrin a smile not at all deterred by her tone. Hands still bunched into his pockets, he looks to be almost constantly shrugging. "Though you should really take more pride in your work. If the 'slightly beaten' look is what I wanted, maybe I'm lookin' worse." But, ultimately, 'better' as far as purpled swollen skin goes; whatever icing the boy did before and after has done a fair trick, and now time has helped. "Give my regards to the proud father. He looks..." His gaze flickers towards Szadath, calculating a moment. Finally, coming up with: "... Industrious."
"Looks like an idiot, he does." An idiot that Taikrin is terribly, grudgingly fond of, despite whatever quarrel they might be having. If he's offended, he gives no sign. Now that his trench is dug, he sets to building up little mounds of sand on first one side, then the other. Heeey Iskiveth check it oooout~~~. "Hey, you're th'one who had all sorts of great ideas. Don't lookit me if it don't turn out how you want." She moves off from the side, trailing the candidates towards the first of the few eggs-- ostentibly to keep an eye on them, but mostly just to gawk at what they're doing. "Y'got a favorite?"
Look! They're not even paying attention to her! Iskiveth snaps at the air in Szadath's direction but since no one is running in panicked fear due to her subdued efforts, the pointy queen finally pulls her whirling eyes away from the candidates and focuses on the brown. Wait. What /is/ he doing? Now she has to know. Teris watches for a few moments more from the galleries, then starts making her way to the sands proper, approaching in Taikrin's general direction while watching the unknown variables do their thing.
Misar has half an eye for the queen's antics, make no mistake, but he does it on the sly while making a scan of the eggs at the question's behest. "No," he finally declares to Taikrin, "No favorites. I like to give myself scope." A glance back to the brownrider from the egg-watching endeavor catches Teris' approach and he gives a vague nod in that direction. "M'lady nears..." And, in hoping the greeting sends Taikrin's attention thatta way, he makes to go-- the other way-- while one or the other is distracted.
When all is said and done, there are thirteen lumps on either side of the trench: six on one side, and seven on the other. Szadath takes up position on the side with fewer mounds, tail twitching rapidly back and forth like feline's. "Ain't no harm in playin' favorites. Can't hurt. Don't rightly know which egg Szad came from, but probably it's one I touched." She's so confident in that! At Misar's gesture, she glances over her shoulder to offer a lopsided smile to Teris. "'Course I reckon I was one of th'only ones who touched th'gold egg, an' she turned into Iskiveth. So..."
Iskiveth glances between the candidates and then back to the mounds and Szadath. She follows his lead and takes up position similarly on the side with more mounds, eyeing him with a flicker of familiar red tinging the whirl of her eyes. "It just as likely won't help, though. To have favorites, I mean." Teris isn't much help as she comes closer, gracing Taikrin with a brief smile. "I'm sure I touched her egg, though," she adds, glancing off toward the gold as she speaks.
Given the opening he desired, Misar's off like a dart away from the prattling riders to find some of that aloneness he sought with the eggs. Somewhat more difficult what with them divided and presided over, but he's opted for Iskiveth's side and there he stays, taking small steps that narrow in on the rotund shapes. There was a first sweeping look to chart the progress of his fellows, but then a certain peace in solitude washes all that concentrated wily behavior from his face. It's with decided, and strange, reverence that he stares upon this gaudy bright patterning ahead.
"I dunno... reckon maybe I might'a touched it first," Taikrin teases back to Teris, slipping across the sands to stand beside her: here, they are the lords of all they survey! "Don't know as how I wouldn'a gone crazy, if we ended up crossed dragons, y'know?" She folds arms across her chest, loosely, squinting out over the candidates as they peruse the eggs. "Y'think this touchin' really makes a difference to them? Th'Weyrwoman once told me she thought-- maybe. What does Iskiveth think?" Which is apparently what Szadath is interested in, too. He ever-so-carefully pokes a hole with one talon into the top of his sandy pile, digging around until he comes up with-- a stick? He plants it carefully onto the side of the mound then looks to Iskiveth expectently.
"You're certainly welcome to come take some of my paperwork off of my hands for me whenever you like, Taikrin," smiles Teris. "Just to make sure you impressed the right one, you know." The blonde settles into a typically straight and not especially relaxed stance, arms crossing over her chest, as she continues to watch the candidates. "I don't know, honestly. Maybe. Iskiveth doesn't care one way or the other for all I can tell, though." The gold in question watches Szadath and his stick, then looks at one of her mounds to, much less subtly, rake a perpetually stained paw over.
It's a reverence in Misar that might be shared with every egg down the line -- a theory never quite tested when he's all and completely distracted by one particular bright seeming glow. One very, very tempting glow. It means picking his way nearer the queen, but he dares it with a glance up and for what she's doing. Hard boot bottoms sinking and rising in the wake of the moved sand, he isn't the only one. There's another, heftier candidate licking his lips like he's eyeing dinner instead of a potential baby dragon, on his way towards the flames. As he stretches out a grubby hand, the stick of a blond boy ducks forward and underneath that arm, his own rising to ensure that it's Misar who touches this One first.
"Oh yeah, paperwork. 'Cause I'm /real/ good at that kind'a stuff." Despite all her tutoring, Taikrin's writing is still barely better than chicken scratch-- but at least she's okay with that. "Reckon this gig's gettin' me all th'fun an' none of the work, eh? Catchin's more my gig, anyways." At least having Teris here has raised Taikrin's mood somewhat: she's downright effusive compared to the withdrawal of the last few sevendays. Szadath rumbles his delight as Iskiveth unearths her 'treasure', and makes short work of digging up a big hunk of lava stone next and placing it atop the mound. "Oi, you two--!" Yes, Taikrin is paying attention to Misar and the larger candidate, and her reprimand is sharp-- enough to make the hefty boy stop with his arm half-stretched to shove Misar away. "Be good!"
"Mm," agrees Teris quietly. "Fun's not really my thing so I guess it worked out all right." She is smiling, though, she's even looking at the brownrider for a couple moments until her gaze is back out on the eggs when Taikrin reprimands the boys, her own eyes narrowing slightly. Iskiveth twists her angular head around to give them all an oddly similar look as her rider, but then she turns back to reform her pile somewhat and settle the piece of bone that was inside on top of it. She picks another after Szadath has revealed his lava stone and this time she's more careful about it when she uncovers a smooth river rock and places it atop the mound, all the while keeping a bit of her attention on the candidates.
"Good /and/ better~" carols Misar, who was caught staring down his impending attack and now slithers away from its halted trajectory. He goes right on around the chosen egg of flames, his hand trailing along its side, until it's solidly between him and riders as much as possible. Out of sight... etc, etc. All done quickly, but not without a last second timed antagonizing wink at the candidate-who-couldn't when the target's the only one who can see it. This puts his back to the now somewhat attentive Iskiveth, which would be more disturbing but for an unwavering examination of the treasured egg.
"I mean it, Ronsen. Watch yerself." Taikrin gets a muleish look in response, but the candidate backs down and shuffles off-- though not before glaring menacingly at Misar from around the egg. "I guess," she picks up the thread of conversation with Teris, but some of the joy has gone out of it. She looks... rattled. "Fun. Guess I'll just, uh. Have t'have enough for both of us." Szadath spares a concerned look for the almost-fight, but then he's back to unearthing the rest of his sand-army: another rock, a split twig, the thigh bone from a large herbivore.
"I think it's time to wrap this up, perhaps?" Teris asides to Taikrin with a vaguely concerned lingering of her gaze on the other woman. "Iskiveth is getting agitated anyhow." Not that that's terribly unusual for the dragon. "And I guess you will just have to have all of the fun." She smiles but her words might not be the most convincing. Iskiveth leaves the candidates for their riders to deal with and goes about uncovering the rest of her own army, warbling a small challenge as she sets the quartz-speared rock on top of its mound. The people might all leave but they're going to continue their battle!
And timely enough for the candidates, too -- some of which look none too confident that the bone unearthed is truly, in fact, from an herbivore at all. For Misar it will take a little more convincing; he's become attached enough to the company of the egg to plant himself there, ignoring of the dragons and the riders who still exist about, as if he has some right to this space, too. But only the tips of his fingers now really trace the outer shell, less than the palm that was planted to show supremacy over Ronsen.
Thankfully, Szadath has more or less completely focused on his sand-army, tail-twitching violently as he pushes his stick-topped mound towards the trench. Surely there are some complex hierarchy rules to the game that the dragons are sharing, though it's pretty difficult to discern for an outsider - like Taikrin, for one. "Yeah, uh-- reckon you're right." She tears her baffled gaze away from the pair to look back over the candidates. "Alright, you lot-- you're botherin' the, uh--" She breaks off from the obvious lie, choosing instead, "-- well, us! So-- get outta here. Y'can come back later. Ain't you all got chores or somethin'?"