Elisa steps gracefully from the central hall. Lyllya walks from the south corridor entrance. Meshach walks from the south corridor entrance. Risly minces from the south corridor entrance. Merdan walks from the south corridor entrance.
Lyllya makes her way over to pour a large mug of klah before claiming a seat and looking about. "Well, at least it smells better in here." Elisa is given a bob of her head before the weaver candie begins to stare into her mug, muttering something about rain and dampness.... and insanity.
Elisa smiles wearily at Lyllya and the other candidates. "Wish it looked better out there," she says, nodding towards the exterior wall. "Even Zivath is getting tired of all the rain." Which is saying something for the eternal water sprite.
Merdan wanders in behind the others and picks over the food on the sideboard, only selecting a few things and a mug of juice, finding a place to sit, nodding to Elisa and sitting. "We could have some entertainment. Lyllya here has her gitar, and I am sure there are others who can play or sing. Would that help Weyrwoman?" He looks at Elisa hopefully.
"It's /awful!/" Risly practically wails as she enters after Lyllya, practically flouncing. "It's supposed to be summer. Not winter -- that's when monsoons are supposed to come." The young woman pouts as she flings herself into a chair, one hand dramatically laid against her forehead. "If I'd known, I would've put off my trip south."
Meshach trails in behind the others. A nod goes to Elsia before he moves towards the snacks. The Weyrwoman's voice catches him with his hand halfway to a sweetroll. "The rain is starting to get on my nerves. Fresh air would be a blessing." The sweetroll is taken along with a bubbly before Mesh starts back towards the others. "Of course we don't have to do any outside chores now." Mesh smiles not really realizing how stupid it is to mention the C word in front of anyone in the position to deal out work.
Lyllya winces at the wailing Risly, finally looking up from her klah at her fellow candidate. "Can't be helped. All we can do is wait for it to end." Merdan is given a slight nod at the mention of music, though she doesn't look at all enthusiastic. Meshach is also given a glance; oh sure, just mention chores in front of someone who can dole them out. Men! "Right now, weeding sounds lovely."
Elisa smiles her appreciation at Merdan and Lyllya. "No, that's all right. I'm sure that once the rain stops and it clears up, everything'll be back to normal." She grins faintly at Risly. "Could be worse. It /could/ be winter." Then there'd be no hope that they'd stop save for the passage of many sevendays. "Though I have to wonder... why?" Weird weather patterns. First like this she's ever seen here in Xanadu.
Risly glances towards Lyllya momentarily, allowing her hand to fall into her lap. "Right." Or, better yet: they can complain. Meshach is shot a look that borders on disgust -- chores, ew! -- before she looks askance of Elisa and queries, "Why do you think?" She rolls her shoulders in the semblance of a shrug, mentioning, "I don't really care why. I care that it's happening. It's not /supposed/ to happen. I should've made a stop at Ista rather than come immediately home; then, at least, I'd miss /this./"
Lyllya frowns deeply for a moment and shakes her head. "Sharding strange, if you ask me. Still.." The ex-weaver's gaze drops back down to her mug and the fingers of one hand are tapped upon the table rather loudly. "You know, I wonder.. with all the strange weather we're having, is there anything similar going on up north?" Why? Lyl's strange, that's why.
Meshach settles down into a wooden chair thoughtfully. "Water." The sweetroll is shortened by a bite length before the ex-bartender continues. "The only place that all that water could come from is the ocean. The wind must just be blowing other the clouds that form over the ocean." Whatever gain an actual answer might induce is erased quickly by taking a very messy bite of the sweetroll. There's a tad of frosting on the boy's nose now. The glares from the other canadates aren't noticed, guy's aren't that observant as a rule.
Elisa eyes Risly and snorts softly, grinning. "Ah, so you're the cause of our rains. It's falling just to put you out of sorts." Not that anyone else is being
put out of sorts, no. The Weyrwoman raises an eyebrow at Meshach. "You haven't been on sandbagging detail yet?" she wonders sweetly. Tsk. "I shall have to ask to see the roster, make sure they're counting everyone in."
"That sounds stupid," Risly voices her opinion tactlessly. "That doesn't make sense. If that was true, then we'd have rain constantly, not just in the winter." A petulant look is directed at Elisa, then, and she states primly, "I said nothing of the sort."
Elior disappears **BETWEEN**
Merdan nods politely and tucks in his lunch, making every morsel count, and drinking his klah quickly. "Well, I haven't helped with the sandbagging either, and I expect I should be out there doing so, I am sure I will not be excluded." He comments to Lyllya. "Still, a little music would be nice, but then, there are more important considerations. Had you heard that some of the riders were inconvenienced? I heard whispering that some have had to bunk in with others because of the risk of flooding."
The glares might not have gotten across to Meshach, but more chores definitely does. He chews the sweetroll very well before replying to Elisa's question. "No, I haven't done sandbagging yet." The words are barely soft enough to be heard, but they are uttered. Luckily Risly distracts Mesh by challenging his theory. "Well." He pauses trying to think quickly. "Um, well." He toys with the arm or his chair. "May be a dragon flapped in Fort last turn and that's causing the bad weather here and now. It doesn't take much to start a wind."
Pandora bounces from the central hall.
Elisa grins faintly and rests her chin in her palm, regarding Risly. "Didn't you?" She looks over and calls one of the stewards over. "Let me see the detail rotation roster," she asks mildly. As the man leaves to get the requested chart, she looks at Risly. "And you are... Risly, yes?" Elisa doesn't comment on the riders' situation as she gets the chart and makes an obvious show of studying it.
Risly raises her eyebrows in skepticism and gazes at Meshach dubiously before she forms a response. "Dragons flap in Fort all the time," she points out. "It would be happening continuously if that was what caused it." She sniffs once, then turns attention back to Elisa. Warily, she nods once. "That's me."
Lyllya gives a bob of her head to Merdan. "Everyone's being put out by this," the ex-weaver comments, gesturing her hand to indicate the rain outside. "If it keeps up, we may have to build boats to live in." The fingers of her non-mug bearing hand are flexed as if to relieve a cramp. "I know I've made plenty of bags to put the sand in." A glance goes to Elisa and then back to her mug. Best to keep silent when chores are being handed out.
Meshach chews his lower lip a bit, and finds a good deal of frosting in the process. He just accepted it as that when he asked why there was rain as a little boy. "Maybe it was facing in the right direction?" Mesh is fishing now and it's showing. A brief reprise from thinking is gained finishing off the last of the sweet roll. Not that that distraction is finished he's back to defending his theory. "The ice in the northern part of the ocean might have formed differently this year causing different currants." Currants have something to do with the water and so does ice, that's about all Mesh remembers of the long lessons he got on the ocean. That and no swimming after eating.
Elisa merely smiles and shakes her head at Meshach in silence. "Mm hm," she says. Several times, in fact. "My goodness, Risly. How have you gotten yourself off the roster?" She looks up at the complainer. No one was bribed or anything, were they? Mmm? "I think you need to do double duty to catch up to poor Lyllya here. To be fair and all."
Karasa walks with waltzing grace from the south corridor entrance.
Lyllya frowns for a moment, glancing over at Risly and then back to Elisa before her gaze rests upon the entering Karasa. There, a safe person to talk to. "Hello, Karasa." See? No mention of chores there, nope. Another drink is taken from her mug as the ex-weaver looks about. "At least we're not floating about in here.......yet."
Risly prefers to challenge anything that's challengable from why there's rain to norms for behavior. "That doesn't sound plausible to me," she intones rather loftily. "I'm sure that's not your fault, dear, but you're terribly wrong, I'm afraid." Not that Risly has a clue about the whys of this situation. "I thought that that ice was there the whole time," she adds. "You know. Never melted." Diverted, she gapes over at Elisa, the perfect image of shock and self-righteousness. "You're joking. It must be a mistake." Yeah /right./ "I've been working constantly." She looks to Lyllya for help and indicates the weaver as she informs, "We went fishing together, even. Us and that one other girl -- Riain. Right. Riain. We fished. I've been doing my duties."
Pandora goes home.
Karasa walks casually into the Great Hall, brown Zelphyn on her right shoulder, blue Danube on her left, and her newest addition--the green Mardi--now in the sling hung across her shoulders and neck. Her golden auburn tresses float behind her in curled ringlets, as well as in wavy strands. Lyllya is grinned at as she receives the greeting, and the Herder Candidate gives a careful wave back and a "Hello" of her own as she balances her fire-lizards and searches for dinner, for her /and/ her trio. Oy, talk about flying stomachs. At least Danube isn't in his ravenous hatchling stage anymore. Just Mardi. Phew.
Elisa mm hms at Risly. Oh, it's a Bad Thing(tm) to get Elisa's attention like that. It's rather like a feline with a vtol. Or Zivath with some poor soul who was fool enough to compliment her too much. "But your name isn't on this afternoon's roster. I can't see how the mistake could have been made." She gets the stylus from the top of the clipboard. "Let's see. I think they need more help outside..." Where all that rain is.
Lyllya looks up at Risly and then at Elisa. "She did fish with us." Though she's not going to mention how long ago /that/ trip was. "The fish may yet have their revenge." That was a joke, really. The ex-weaver's mug is set aside and chin rested in one hand, her elbow propped upon the table as the surface of the table is inspected; interesting patterns.
Merdan suppresses a laugh with choking and then actually chokes on a small bit of food. He coughs it up in his hand and wipes it away with a small napkin, then drinks to suppress further coughing. Mirth gone, he asks "Am I to do sandbagging, or outdoor duties also, Weyrwoman?" Ok, he's a glutton for punishment, but ... if everyone else has to do it, then he should too, right?""
"Outside?" Risly squeaks with dismay. "Surely there's something else that I could do." Think fast, Risly. After a minute, she suggests, "Aren't there people that're making bags for the sand? I could always help with that. I can sew, you know." She attempts a smile that turns out rather hopeful; going outside would only leave her soaked and ruin her good outfits. "My mother taught all us girls how to sew." She may not like it much, but it is something she'll do in favor of outside work.
"Sandbagging is outdoors," Elisa clarifies. "There are those who have to shovel the sand into the bags, and then there's the human chain that pass the bags along to where they are needed. I think you could perhaps do that." Fuuuun. "And you can finish your dinner. Risly does not look particularly occupied just now..."
Karasa finds herself a plate and quickly dishes out her meal. Hot stew, couple of slabs of wherry, meat roll or two just in case one of the fire- lizards is /really/ hungry, and an extra hot cup of straight klah. Yum. Walking back to the tables so picks up on the conversation. Siting down by Lyllya she suggests: "What about cleaning out the storerooms?" Squeak. No, that wasn't her, that was Mardi. She's hungry. A party colored green hatchlings head peeks out from the sling, and opens a creeling maw, wich is promptly stuffed with a peice of stew meat. There.
K'les saunters in from the entry hall.
"Oh, but I'm not strong enough to do that," Risly's quick to clarify. "Sandbagging takes muscles. All that shoveling and things. I'd only hamper everyone else."
S'tan walks from the central hall.
Maura walks in from the entry hall.
Maura exits the room for the smaller entry hall.
K'les comes into the hall at a run, wrapped in her weyrhide jacket and a palm frond held close over her head. To little or no avail. She's still soaked through. She stands, sniffing as water sloughs off her, forming a pool around her feet. Yuck.
Elisa grins at Risly. "Well, then you can help the people with the stuff in the storerooms. That isn't too heavy. And it's indoors." She waves at K'les and S'tan as she sends the reluctant candidate off to a *gasp* chore.
Lyllya looks up at K'les. "Oh, you're soaked." Briliantly observant, isn't she? "Want me to bring you something hot to drink? Klah or tea?" The ex-weaver begins to stand, turning her gaze to extend the offer to the others in the hall. "I need a refill, at any rate, all of this rain is making me want to do nothing but sleep."
S'tan is nice and dry, but then for once his mounds of paperwork is a great excuse not to leave the safety and comfort of the rock. "Still busily putting things away?" he asks of Elisa, amusedly.
At least it's indoors. When threatened with the worst of the worst, Risly takes this one without argument and goes before Elisa can change her mind. Quirking a small smile at the others, she scoots off heading the appropriate direction.
Risly minces through the wide archway into the Central Hallway.
Merdan stands with Lyllya "And let me go get you a towel, I just saw a whole basket full brought to the baths from the laundry." He hesitates for approval from K'les.
Karasa smiles quietly to herself as she takes a drink of her klah. Setting it down she spies K'les and gives a wave, unsettling Zelphyn who flutters down to the table. "Hey!" she calls out after swallowing. "How're you and Pfelth?" she asks, curious about how the rider and dragon who Searched her out are. Oh, yes. She brushes her auburn brown tresses back behind her shoulder as they try to float forward, and works at slicing her wherry up for the hungry hatchling as she awaits a reply in the somewhat noisy hall.
Suddenly, there is a loud crash against the Weyr's outer doors! *SPLASH!* The metal barrier holds though, though the sound echos throughout the building. Then a second one. *WHAM!* Another, this one sounding worse, like debris hitting even the walls.
K'les peels her jacket off, dropping it over the back of a near by chair. "Ya don't say? That happens when your dragon insists on living as deep in the jungle as possible and still be consided a weyr resident, " she says, giving Lyllya an amused sidelong look. "Hey Elisa, S'tan." She sniffs again, and wipes her drenched curls back form where they were plastered to her forehead. Towel. "Uh, yea, please. Make that two!"
S'tan is suddenly much less jocular and much more alert. "Stay back," he warns most of the cavern before motioning to a few other riders and going to see what happened.
Elisa is about to answer S'tan when the thudding on the doors draws her immediate attention. "Great Faranth, what was that?" she asks. "Zivath, who's playing around out there?" she asks aloud, hoping that it's merely a rambunctious dragon banging the doors.
Lyllya nearly screams at the sound, her mouth moving though all that is produced is a rather cut off squeek. The ex-weaver's eyes go wide, her brows vying for space with her hairline. "Oh my.. ooooh my..." Still, as if pre-programed to do so, the mug of klah is poured and delivered to K'les in shaking hands. "Oh, this can't be at all good.. not at all.. I hope no one was hurt.."
Meshach fades to silence as Elisa and the other candidates dream up different tortures for Risly. He had to same luck of not doing sand bags earlier, he's just better at being quiet. His muteness is shattered by the loud sounds coming from the doors. "What was that?" Meshach is on his feet looking around for fallen farm equipment. There isn't any and that makes Mesh all the more nervous.
Elior appears from **BETWEEN**
Lyllya calls to Elior, who flies over and lands on her shoulder. Merdan runs off to get a towel, and have a look at the entrance.
Karasa 's attention is suddenly drawn to the loud splash, and then the Wham, and finally the last makes her grimace and cringe slightly, hoping the walls hold and they don't suddenly end up being washed away. As K'les responds to someone else, or several someones, the Herder Candidate figures that she didn't hear her greeting, so just goes back to the stew and wherry feeding of her trio of flizzens and working at relaxing, but ready to work if called on. She's used to being called on.
Maura walks in from the entry hall.
Merdan exits the room for the smaller entry hall.
Merdan walks from the south corridor entrance.
K'les starts at the reverberating BANG, and hastens away from the enterance, turning to watch the door intently. "Uh, I was going to say, S'tan, that I had to practically wade through the courtyard to get here!" For the moment, Karasa's question goes unanswered in light of the impending disaster.
>> (Xanadu Weyr) Zivath is perched on a ledge above, but she can see. Oh, yes. She does. < Lyllya is suddennly confronted by an entirely frantic blue, who immediately makes for her shoulder, wrapping his tail about her neck tightly and twining himself in her hair. "Oh, now's not the time, Eli.. or." The word is broken in two by a choking sound and the 'lizard's tail is grabbed to loosen it's hold. K'les is looked to, once again. "Is there anything we should do?" Maura gulps. Startled at the water. Not being very smart, she had just /come/ from the courtyard. Her band of animals shuddering at her heels and around her head. She settles down to hear what she might be able to do, but for now she is unable to choke out any words. Merdan sends Raving winging off his shoulder. Merdan sends Denfix winging off his shoulder. >> Fabrinath's mind is suddenly all around and there is panic rising like the flood waters from the clutch watching queen. < Karasa works at feeding her starving 'lizards who could care less about the storm that blows about outside, all they care about at the moment is food, not floods. Yeesh. The Senior Apprentice Herder turned Candidate tries to feed the brown, blue and hatchling green as fast as she can whilst keeping half an ear out for the storm, just in case. Lyllya is glanced at barely, and the fire-lizard spied. "Need some help?" she offers betwixt chewing fire-lizards. S'tan comes back in, looking serious. "We have some water seeping in through the doors..." There are already baggers there shoring up the door as much as they can. "And the shoreline is continuing to creep up on us. I want all non-essential personnel to get higher up..the rest of you, help reinforce..." He trails off as a message is relayed to him, leaving his eyes wide. "RIDERS, out! Protect the eggs..." It's the last thing he says before rushing out of the hall himself. K'les hurries to a window, peering out. "Sweet Faranth! It wasn't /that/ bad!" And that was only a few minutes ago. Her eyes widen in horror as Pfelth passes the frantic alarm. "The eggs!" S'tan exits the room for the smaller entry hall. After a moment of confusion, M'dan stands where he is, and waits further direction. His firelizards take to the air, and head for the rafters, and he frowns. His only words "We need more sandbags." Elisa pales several shades, and looks at S'tan. "Shards, no!" And she, too, is running out. "Not the eggs!" >> (Xanadu Weyr) Zyelth bugles with fright, dark red swirls within his mind's eye. < Elisa steps gracefully through the wide archway into the Central Hallway. Elisa heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Zivath backwings and touches down lightly. K'les heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. From the Galleries, Arial comes down from the viewing ledge. Hatching Sands Huge and echoing, it is by far the largest cavern beneath the mountain housing the Weyr. Heat rising from deep beneath the ground makes the imported sands just the right temperature for hardening dragon eggs, but creates a near stifling humid atmosphere. Darkness shadows the majority of the cavern despite what light cast by the gigantic tunnel overhead where the dragons enter or the multitudes of glowbaskets strung along the galleries. Closest to the ground tunnel are the risers and seats that form the Galleries, then farther into the back, yet another entrance leads off towards the weyrling barracks. You see Covered Pot, Fabrinath, Tragic Trapped in Roses Egg, Egyptian Prince Egg, Casper the Friendly Eggie, Book of the Clow Egg, Shrine of Seiryuu Egg, Tweety Bird Egg, Eighth Level of Hell Egg, Righteous Combat Egg, Scottish Medieval Castle Egg, Shattered Hubris Egg, Shadowy Mecha Egg, Swingin' Sherwood Forest Egg, Down by the Sea Egg, Coveted Sea-Foam Egg, Crystalized Darkness Egg, Brush of an Angel's Wing Egg, Vines of Eternal Slumber Egg, Kyrith, Starchild, and Zivath here. Sabria and K'les are here. Obvious exits: Entrance Galleries Dragon Hallway [-XanaWGH-] Lyllya nods at Maura. "Get those animals calmed down, first. All of that barking is just going to add to the confusion. We'll need more sandbags." The other candidates are eyed. "Let's get to the hatching cavern and offer our help.. if we can.." And then the weaver is off at a run. [-XanaWGH-] Lyllya walks through the wide archway into the Central Hallway. [-XanaWGH-] Merdan glances at the others and rallies "Come on, let's go help the weyrwoman. To the sands." He turns quickly and heads toward the Central Hallway. [-XanaWGH-] Karasa quickly gets the blue Danube of her shoulder, and sets the green on the table to feed herself as she stands. "Come on Lyllya, we should go and try to help," the Herder Candidate tugs verbally. A smile runs aross the Herder's face for the briefest moment before the bolts off after the Weaver Candy. [-XanaWGH-] Karasa sends Mardi winging off her shoulder. [-XanaWGH-] Karasa sends Zelphyn winging off her shoulder. [-XanaWGH-] Karasa sends Danube winging off her shoulder. [-XanaWGH-] Karasa walks with waltzing grace through the wide archway into the South Corridor. [-XanaWGH-] Meshach's original thoughts are just reinforced, but he's not about to stay here alone if the water breaks in. At least the dragons could carry people out of the water's path is it got too high on the sands. [-XanaWGH-] Meshach walks through the wide archway into the South Corridor. [-XanaWGH-] Maura sighs and is afraid to follow the candidates. She has no right to go there. [-XanaWGH-] Maura walks through the wide archway into the South Corridor. From the Galleries, Solo flitters up the stairs from the Hatching Grounds' tunnel. [-XanaWGH-] Merdan walks through the wide archway into the South Corridor. Lyllya heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Karasa heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Meshach heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Merdan heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Fabrinath is screaming at the flood waters, rushing in her terror to gather the eggs and move them to higher ground, already it is too late for some of them, the first rush of waters having collided over the tail end of the clutch and has even swept some of them out of place, two as far as the back wall where they collided and are likely smashed. Sabria is desperately trying to move the waist high orbs by rolling them, starting with those dangerously looking in the water and is crying out to her queen. "They're coming to help Fabrinath! They're coming!" She can only hope that the red-eyed dragon won't lash out at fellow rescuers in her desperation and fear. Glancing back at the riders and other weyrfolk running in after the queen's mental scream, she waves them to come closer. "Quickly! The water is rising! We've lost some already! Have to get the rest to higher ground and dam that tunnel!" From the Galleries, Arial dismounts at a run, dashing frantically down the stairs until she can lean over the front railing to survey the damage. "Sabria, what's going on? Zyelth said..." The devastation in front of her stops her in her tracks and she grabs the railing for support. "Shards!" Maura heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. From the Galleries, Arial ducks under the railing to the sands below. Arial drops to the hot sands from the galleries' edge. From the Galleries, Maura walks up the stairs from the Hatching Grounds' tunnel. Zivath wings down and does the only thing that she can think of... stop that water! She lays herself across that doorway in an attempt to stave off that rush of water. S'tan walks in. Karasa runs into the large Hatching Cavern, her hair flying out behind her. A band is quickly pulled out of her pockets and the strands are tied up into a nape runnertail. The damage before ehr eyes brings a gasp from the woman's mouth and she quickly walks over to help move the eggs to higher ground. "Oh, Great Faranth's first clutch..." Takovic heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Lyllya moves into position behind the closest egg, putting herself between it and the incoming water and motions to Karasa. "Over here, let's get as many as we can." Desperation resounds in the candidate's voice as she moves into action. Takovic flicks panickedly out onto the Sands, leaping near a foot in alarm at the heat, but his expression directing its alarm elsewhere. Voice quavering, Takovic's eyes dart around behind his steamed-up spectacles. "What, so to speak, happened? As it were, what?" Things don't look good--he can tell that much. Karasa runs over to Lyllya as fast as she can on the shifting sands, and gets behind the egg, starting to push the egg gently, but firmly, trying to move it uphill over the sands as quickly as she can. "Those poor hatchlings..." Are those tears? Probably, but who has tiem for tears in a crisis? Not her, so lets go! Merdan glances up and says "I am going to put some sandbags at the entrance, to try to keep more water out." He glances up and notices Maura in the Galleries "Can you help me with sandbags?" Pfelth screams from the ledges and K'les pelts onto the steaming sands, quick eyes taking in the damage already done and anticipating what needs to be done next. "Block the tunnel!" She hollars at a group of candidates an d weyrfolk. "You!" she directs a man, "..go get some of those sandbags back in the hall! Fill them and start piling them behind Zivath!" Meshach eyes the growing confusion on the sands. His eyes turn to the tunnel in growing desperation before a dragon neatly takes care of the problem. The teen rushes towards the nearest egg and starts pushing as low as he can o the base. "The place is flooded. We've got to get the eggs out of the water." That's to the newest candie to enter the sands. "Try to help with the eggs, there's a dragon blocking the worst of the water from the tunnel." As if the huge winged beat wasn't apparent. A last great wave comes crashing through the tunnel from the barracks, one shudders to think what the damages in there must be like, the water comes washing right over Zivath at the entry way. Most of it is halted by the golden obstacle, the rest joining the rest of the flood waters washing over half the clutch. Sabria is caught between screaming instructions and trying to keep Fabrinath calmed enough. "Quickly! Roll the eggs. Don't bang them together! Higher up, higher up! The far side of the cavern!" She shoves at another egg, getting it out of the water, encouraging the others coming in to start moving the dry eggs out of the way. There have been casualties already, broken shells leaking things one would rather not know about over at the far wall where debris from the barracks shoved them hard against the stone. Sabria's all but screaming at the moment herself, concentration difficult with her dragon panicking. S'tan slips off Masagoth as soon as possible. "We're doing our best to block the water from the other side....," he announces loudly, surveying the chaos as Masagoth moves to help keep the waters at bay with his bulk, though not before trumpeting so that his rider can get everyone's attention. "Alright, half of you help block the waters...the rest of you, help isolate the eggs." Glancing over at Sabria, he frowns. "Weyrwoman, control your dragon. That is your first responsibility." Other people can roll the eggs. Takovic rushes about further, not pausing his frantic motion even as he tries to wipe the steam from his spectacle lenses. Picking up on the frantic shouts and fragments of sense and orders, he questions, "How did this happen, you know, how?" He's not been aware of such possibility for disaster. But he does /not/ question what to do. Moving a bit less awkwardly than usual for his speed, he rushes toward the eggs as Sabria orders, hesitating slightly before touching but then going on, the sense of emergency bringing out the full extent of his usual nerves--magnified. Lyllya doesn't have time for tears either, though they are threatening even as she moves under Sabria's direction. Another egg is chosen and Karasa is all but dragged over to it. "There, put your hands on that side and I'll push here, on the count of three. One, two, /three/!" Again the ex- weaver begins to push, her face regaining some color under the strain. Maura races onto the Sands and looks at tha damage. Pain crosses her face. She jumps at an egg and pushes hard, but scared of its breaking. She shoves and manages some movement. This is not time to panic! But fear is the nearest thing to mind. She pushes the egg up to the highest point... Merdan grabs a sand bag and goes toward the door, wading through the inrush of water and drops the bag, watching it move off and disappear in the inrush "Oh, shards, this won't work. How am I supposed to stop this water?" he feels his feet tugged out from under him and falls splashing in the water, rises soaked and goes for more sandbags. Takovic sees nothing wrong with panicking... Arial gets behind and egg, placing her palms against the middle portion and pushing. Wet sand shifts under her feet as the rider strains. "No, Zyelth," she pants upwards. "You stay there. There's too many people down here to risk landing. Stay." The blue trumpets his dismay, wings flairing on the ledges above. "Yes, yes, we're hurrying." Pfelth's scream brings a grimace from the Herder girl as she shoves at the egg from the base for leverage. As it is pushed to higher ground the girl suddenly finds herself dragged to another egg by Lyllya. Hands are placed as ordered and shoves on three. The egg slides slowly up, and finally to the highest point possible, and the Herder lets the egg go. "Come on!" she shouts to Lyllya over the noise, running to another egg being threatened by the incoming waves. Herder muscle is put to the test as she shoves with all her considerable strength, pushing it upwards with a careful combination of balance and strength. Just a little farther... Elisa looks over, tears streaking her face but she has to stay by Zivath. "You're doing great, Zivath. You and Masagoth both." She grabs Merdan and points. "Zivath and Masagoth are blocking most of it. Put the bags first where the water is still getting in!" She glances over at the wall and looks away again, biting her lip. "Move!" Meshach moves away from the egg at one order only to run back to it as Sabria orders the eggs moved to the far side of the cavern. The huge, slippery ovoid is pushed until it's on its side. Panic takes over as the man pushes as hard as he can to move the egg to higher ground. Slowly the smooth egg moves. "Someone, help me move this one. It's too big for one person." The water is pulling the sand out from under his feet as Mesh struggles to push harder. Lyllya gives that extra final push and the egg slides into position, just moments before Takovic is spotted. "Tako! Come help us with this one." The large, yellow egg is indicated with one hand while Karasa is motioned by the other. "It's too big for two of us." Gasp. Yes, she's breathing. Really. Sabria can at last in good conscience leave the egg moving to others, going back to her screaming queen who is moving the far end eggs over to higher ground, scooping them up in her claws carefully and trying to awkwardly walk them over to the rest. It's not a posture that comes naturally to a dragon after all. "Easy does it love, they're helping, they're helping." The weyrwoman's voice calls loudly to the frantic creature, edged with fatigue. Brackish water soaking her clothing, she sheds tears over the battered clutch. "Oh god, how many will we loose?" Push, shove, push shove. Maura braces agianst the sands and the eggs middle, frantically, yet strangly gental, she pushes hard. Hard breathes escape her as the water takes her feet out from under her. She lands with a puff, but quickly regains her balance and continues. She realizes that she isn't breathing... breath. Tears stain her already soaked face. She shoves again.. and again. There! Another saved. K'les watches long enough to be sure the bags are being filled and stacked behind the living retaining wall, then runs to help roll the eggs to higher ground. "Careful!" She shouts as two eggs come close to colliding, their movers reackless in their haste. Pfelth screeches again, and dives to the sands, plowing water and sand as she lands hard. "This way Pfelth!" K'les bellows. The red-eyed green bounds to her lifemate, pushing sand into a barrier mound with forelimbs and tail, a protective alcove about the moved eggs. Merdan grabs two sand bags and heads to the inrush, dropping them so they are at the edge. He returns for two more and continues to build his way across the entrance, making slow progress. For each two bags, one is dislodged by the time he returns. "I can do it." he chides himself, picking up the pace and replacing the displaced bags each time he returns. Takovic turns his head so abruptly one might think it'd snap, regarding Lyllya with wide eyes and raised brows. Scooting off from moving one smaller egg with the help of another candidate, he joins Lyllya and Karasa, bracing himself against the egg, mustering more strength than he probably knew he had. "How far...you know, how far...?" he asks, wavering on scarce breath. S'tan himself does his best to move one of the eggs to safety, occasionally barking orders. Once relatively safe, he rushes back for another one, pausing briefly by Sabria. "There will be others. Concentrate on the ones who will make it through..for her sake, if not for yours," he motions to the golden dragon besides her. The last thing the Weyr needs now is a crazed gold wrecking additional havoc. Karasa 's chosen egg finally slips into position, just as her attention is drawn with a wave. The Candidate Herder rushes over to help with the egg, putting her back to it--literally. She uses her back to shove against the ovoid's surface as she pushes against the sands with her feet, walking backwards, letting Takovich and Lyllya guide as she tries to use her strength to get the job done quickly. Hazel eyes close against the tears and against the whipping hairs that have coming loose from her binding tie to batter her face relentlessly as she shoves. Not much farther she hopes. Oh, those poor dragonets... "Oh, Faranth, why?" she asks in a whispered breath. Lyllya points to the higher end of the cavern. "There, where the water can't come in." She hopes. "As soon as we get this one, go for the next. We need to hurry..." Karasa is given a shake of her head. "Ask later, do now." The current egg is slid forward until Lyl judges it to be safe, and another indicated. "There, that one, it's farther out." Her fellow candidates are motioned behind her and the ex-weaver sets off, a woman with a purpous. "Hurry, don't fall in the wet sand." Too many will be lost no doubt. Meshach is trying as hard as he can to save the ones around him however. The first egg is finally pushed into position with help from two drudges strait from the kitchens. Taking a deep breath for the first time in minutes Mesh only pauses a moment before running over and helping the other candidates to finish with their egg. His bony back is set next to Karasa's and he adopts the same position of backward walking. Once the egg is deemed safe by Lyllya Mesh runs off with the others to help them move another. To be killed before you're born. What a fate. Elisa grabs bags as people fill them and bring them, shoving them under dragon legs and rumps and anything else that can't bend to keep the water back. First must stop the flow. Then they can build the wall higher to let the bronze and gold pair up from their dam duty. (Pun intended.) "Move! Move!" she orders. She pauses after a while to examine the work. She starts directing bagging to be stacked under the dragons as they maneuver themselves up, letting the manmade wall start to replace the draconic one. Maura turns quickly, her arm muscles starting to ache. The eggs don't /look/ that heavy. She sprints back down to where the water is drenching the Sands. "No" She whispers to herself, as if anyone would have heard anyway. She comes to a large egg. She looks to Lyllya in hopes to either help... or get help. Her wet hair plasters to her face as she trips, yet again in an effort to hurry. Ignoring her messed clothes she stands and comes to the side of a canididate. No words are needed. Fabrinath keens her loss, her long neck snaking over the diminished clutch as people continue to gather the eggs by her where she tries to nudge the soaked eggs into the optimum places of heat, swipping sand over them with her tail, trying to warm them back up. Sabria ducks the impromptu sand storm and keeps a running litany of encouragement to the queen. "They're doing their best love, take care of the ones you have here. They need you to take care of them. Arial restrains from the urge to break down and sob like an enfant, but tears seep through as she pushes one egg towards the far end with the help of another rider. Wiping tears and sweat from her cheeks and off her eyes, she takes a look at the tragedy around her. "Oh shells, oh shells," she chants between sobs. Zyelth adds his hefty bass to the cacophony, keening for the loss of eggs already gone. Merdan continues to build the wall until he matches up with Fabrianth's tail. "Well, now to get the other side and build around them so they don't have to." ah, what Elisa said. Grabbing more sandbags he begins to build up the wall between the dragons and the entrance, shoring up the holes along the way as he goes. As others join in, he finds himself handing them the bags so they can do the work. K'les runs back to the foundering eggs, splashing through water almost knee deep. Leaning into one, she heaves mightily, but the water has entrenched the orb well into the sands. "Pfelth!" Looking first to Fabrinath, her voice in unnerving discord with the queen's, the lithe green leaves her dike building long enough to help K'les roll the egg to safety. But is it already too late? K'les' jaw clenches in an attempt to squelch the lump in her chest threatening to burst. Soon, there are no more eggs to move, the ones that are salvagable have been placed up by the wailing queen dragon, who's not so panicked now but not happy at all. The waters are not quite receeding, but neither are they pouring in anymore. The daming efforts look to be decently working though the dragons can't stay that way forever obviously. Karasa runs after the girl, somehow finding the strength to walk in her limbs, one foot slipping for an instant before finding its place again on the wet sands as she regains her footing and finishing her mad dash toward Lyllya. Herder Brawn(TM) is placed behind the egg as she shoves, trying to move the badly placed ovoid from its wet place with the help of Lyllya, Takovich, and Maura. Do now, ask later. She can do that. Wet strands are whipped back as a forcefull wind shoves them out of the way, and the Herder Candidate looks at K'les for but a moment before turning back to the task at hand. "One, two, three, push!" she calls out in command. She may only be a Senior Apprentice, but this is a crisis, and pushing unevenly is worse than not at all. Lyllya motions her little crew off to the sand bagging, the eggs now as safe as they can get them. "C'mon, I doubt we're done yet." With that, the weaver moves off, grabbing the first sandbag in sight and tossing it up in a suprising show of strength. Within moments, she's back with two, repeating the effort. S'tan pushes one of the last eggs into a place of safety, doing his best to throw sand over the sadly cool egg. "I want at least two other dragons on the Sands with Fabrinath at all times while we're getting flooded, do you hear?" Surveying the ruins of the sands ocne more, he runs over to the wall of dragons. "I want a flight of dragons to come with me...we're going to bring back more Sand to block this off. We'll need people on the ground to do the building once the Sand is delivered." Takovic continues blindly following orders, dictated by Weyrwoman or Weyrlingmaster or Dragon or even other Candidate. He may be positively scrawny, but he wants to help, and he's making an attempt to get in something somewhere. Which hopefully ends up as more than flitting. After finally assessing the eggs are safe, he sighs, clears sweat-dampened bangs from his forehead, defogs his spectacles again, then plows over toward the growing dam. He'll feel this all tomorrow, sure enough, but that doesn't matter now. Maura heaves, driving her heals into the mushy sand for at least a little backup, at the command. Her eyes are no longer open, for it takes too much energy to keep them that way. She wants to finish the job and will not stop till it is. Meshach gazes about, but the eggs all seem to be saved or beyond hope. The only thing to do now is to make sure they stay that way. Blinking away sharp tears and chilling rainwater Mesh runs towards the sandbag brigade. A heavy sack is thrown into his arms and he passes it on registering St'an's orders with only dull acceptance. He's doing all he can now. For once in his life he's trying, let's only hope it does some good. Karasa brushes her hair back once again, using the wet nature of her damp strands to plaster them to her skull. Hopefully. The weaver is followed and the Herder picks up two sandbags of her own, trotting with them over to the cavern entrance, piling them up on top of the others, running back for more. Three fire-lizards suddenly swoop in: a brown, blue and green, and start scooping up sand with their claws somehow, and pouring it over the eggs in an attempt to warm them back up. From the Galleries, Spryte has connected. Elisa looks at the candidates with a great deal of appreciation as she directs the placement of sandbags /under/ the gold and bronze, the pair having to awkwardly contort to keep water back but give room for the bags to be placed. "Masagoth... carefully now... you should be able to get up..." S'tan needs him. Well, Elisa needs S'tan, but there's no time for any consolation just now. She rubs at her eyes, smearing gritty sand across her cheek. Arial shakes her head, breaking herself out of her trance. "I'll go," she volunteers to S'tan. Zyelth wants to do something active instead of just watching the disaster. Merdan wipes the mop of his hair back. He continues to bring up sanbags, handing them to anyone with empty arms and splish splashes back to the now growing pile of bags being filled by others. "Good thing we have so much sand here." he says to one of those filling the sacks. "Stay in place, Mas," S'tan directs. "Until there are some more bags under you," he even as he helps with filled bags and placing them. From the Galleries, Spryte heads for the main tunnel out. Maura's 'lizards appear beside Karasa's. All help is needed and they want to be there too. The two blues and bronze scoop up the sand and try to follow the other lizards. She grabs up a sand bag and hands it to whoever is next to her, then grabs another to place herself. She nods absently, no longer sure if directions are for her or not. Spryte heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Spryte races onto the hatching sands with no small measure of panic on her face, the eggs! Meshach catches another bag and passes it on. His muscles are protesting, and his face is streaming tears, but the bags keep going. There will be time for resting and pleasantries later. Mesh struggles as one especially full bag coincides with a slight ebb in the current to pull the teen to his knees. The shock of the water and sheer determination pull him back up however and the bag moves on. The initial adrenaline rush is ebbing, and K'les stands by Pfelth as the green continues to pile what sand she can about the remaining eggs. Her gaze roves the hatching cavern. It's a sobering sight. Several people are helping barrier the clutch, and many more are sandbagging. Sabria is soothing an understandably distressed Fabrinath. And then there are the remains. Against the unforgiving wall of the grounds are broken shards. Too many. K'les averts her eyes, then strides over to join the sandbagging crew. Merdan stands between Meshach and the others, catching and tossing the sacks in the row "I can't believe we didn't start doing this right away." he says to his fellow candidate. With a grin, he tosses the sacks of sand and says "Never saw such a storm since I have been here in Xanadu, have you?" Lyllya moves into line to pass the sandbags, now that order has descended, her arms moving quickly to pass the heavy bags off to the next person. "How are things looking?" She inquires of everyone at once, her voice only slighty quavering. S'tan stacks a few more bags underneath his own bronze before allowing the dragon to move from his position. "Elisa, keep directing things here. I'm going to make sure we get more sand here in a hurry," he informs his weyrmate. Maura's face is distorted with a mixture of misbelief, sorrow, pain and exaushtion. Sand is no less what makes up her face now, too many times falling has made her frame undistinguishable. A lump in her throat chokes her. Horrible. She bends down and fills some empty bags, quickly. Her mind now aware and not wanting to be fully seen. Karasa turns back from the stack, finding herself at the end of the forming line. Quickly she starts stacking the bags as neatly as they will, and moving her arms quickly as they can, despite their slightly protesting nature. Zelphyn, Danube, and Mardi continue to pour sand over the remaining eggs, black grains flowing over their surfaces like salt. Grab and throw, pick up and pour. Busy, busy, busy. Musn't stop. Meshach shakes his head and passes a bag on. "Never." He asnwers Merdan with as another bag is passes with failing muscles. "Not this bad in winter." The sentence is disorganized, but the bags continue to be passed as quickly as they come. "I didn't think the water would get inside." Meshach pauses in his speaking to grabs a breath before continuing. "I never believed that spring rains could be so bad. The whole ocean is here." Spryte can't believe the devastation before her eyes, broken egg shards, a distraught queen and the efforts of all to combat the destruction. Eyes glisten with dampness but now is not the time to engage in emotion. Lithe arms join in with the sandbagging line, lifing and passing ceaselessly. Striken face turns from the sight at the wall and focuses on getting the area as protected as possible. Takovic isn't so much looking as he is still just /moving/, darting around almost as if too intent on darting to do more than push a sandbag a few yards. One might say it could look like supervising if he wasn't going so fast nor appearing so clearly freaked out. He does, though, pause briefly at Merdan's comment, noting almost casually for him (though perhaps just in comparison to his outward state), "I've not seen such a storm at all, you know, not at all. But, as it were, it's because I stay inside, you know, mostly inside..." Elisa staggers back from the crowd, exhausted, dazed. She looks over at Fabrinath and Pfelth, looks at the sandbagging, looks at the... damage, at the waterlogged sand. She looks at S'tan and nods. "I will," she promises. She moves back to climb up her dragon's side to peer over her back at the water level. "It-it doesn't seem to be rising anymore," she says brokenly. "You should-should be able to get up soon, Ziv." The gold peers at her lifemate and sounds a soft, high-pitched keening, her eyes whirling grey. Arial makes her way over to the sandbagging crew, her offer just seconds late as S'tan has his full wing of volunteers already. Picking up a shovel, she starts helping fill another bag with black sand, over and over, the repititious movement numbing her mind so that all she focuses on is filling the bags. Zyelth, poor blue, has no such diversion and keens his grief adding it to the rest of the dragon voices that echo hauntingly through the Grounds. Lyllya would be in much the same state, if it weren't for the urgency of her current task. As it is, the weaver's face has become rather emotionless, her expression caught between stern and stunned. "Keep the bags moving, more sand will becoming soon," she encourages the others, not bothering to look to see if her words are even being heeded. Saying them helps. S'tan disappears almost as quickly as he came, only to return at some point with his flight of volunteers in tow. Landing where he can, S'tan quickly offloads his cargo of sand before the bronze launches again for another load. As soon as they lift off, another pair sets down their own load. Sabria is keeping herself busy with soothing the distraught Fabrinath, though all she can do is keep up the mental litany to keep the gold occupied with her remaining clutch. The numbers have been diminished somewhat, a good number of broken shell is mingled with the debris at the side wall of the cavern. Perhaps the..remains should be sent between, when they're extracted from the rest of the flotsam. Who knows how many of the saved eggs will hatch too, were they too long in the water? "S'tan, how goes it?" she calls, squinting at the efforts at the tunnelway. Merdan catches and tosses sand bags and frowns "Blocking the water is going to stop more coming in, but what about the water already in here, where will it go?" He smiles at Meshach and says "Never dreamed it could happen. My feet are actually cool on the sands." He catches and tosses another sack and turns back for another. From the Galleries, Jyfer walks up the stairs from the Hatching Grounds' tunnel. Takovic is catching Lyllya's words--and everyone else's...And he's trying to act on them all. But the little Candidate's nervous energy is indeed beyond his muscle strength. He's still fidgeting, one might say fairly vibrating, but he's taking his time from place to place, even actually pausing once more to survey the situation. From a bad thing, they've done good so far...But he still worries. Maura digs into more and more sand, passing the bags off as they are finished. Nervousness is causing her hands to shake as they are forced to mave and work./ S'tan returns soon enough, landing as space becomes available. To harried to properly reply to anyone, he pauses to help fill some more bags and stack them onto a pile. Grab, twist, pass. Meshach is caught in a seemingly endless repetition. "I don't know what will happen to this water, they'll probably make us carry it out in buckets." Grab, twist, pass. "I never thought I'd wish my feet were hotter on the sands either." Eyes are kept pointedly away from the far wall. "How many do you think are saved?" Yet another sandbag joins the never ending stream, and Meshach hates to think of what he'll feel like in the morning. Lyllya catches Meshach's question. "We won't know until.. later." More sandbags are tossed as the weaver's gaze drifts back down the line. "Everyone holding up alright?" Is asked as emotion starts to return to the numbed candidate. K'les pauses in her shovelling as she wipes a gritty hand across her face. "I suppose it will evaporate, with the heat and all." Already a heavy fog sits in the cavern, mercifully somewhat obscuring the view of the 'flotsam'. If one chose not to look too hard. Resolving /not/ to look, K'les continues with her shoveling, difficult as it is to ignore the carnage. That's what it really is. Carnage. To think, those eggs contained someone's lifemate, soulmate... K'les shakes her head to disrupt the distructive train of thought. Zivath watches the work, shifting as needed, and slowly pushing herself up. It's easier to raise her front end first and let them bag there. Eventually, the gold is able to move away from the barricaded entrance. However... "Get out of her way!" Elisa snaps, her voice rough with emotion. "Do you want her to step on you?! Move!" Is the Weyrwoman losing it? Mmm, perhaps. From the Galleries, Mischief appears from **BETWEEN** From the Galleries, Jyfer goes home. Spryte lifts and passes, lifts and passes, focus soley on the work at hand. Time and time again the bags get filled, lifted and passed down the line to be placed in the spots needing them the most. A step to the side to lift and her face pales at the egg shard near her foot. Focus flies as she stares for a moment at the broken hope, before with a barely perceptable shake of her head she turns back to the task at hand. There will be time to think of it later, now is the time to save all that is left. The dampness glistening in her eyes has trickled down to wash her cheeks with it's wetness, but no sound is made except for the response to Lyllya's words "I was assisting at the storerooms when I heard, I had no ...idea..." words trail off, before she loses control and there is work to be done. Tight lipped she puts her back into the work, anything rather than to think. Overheard command causes head to turn and look, but she is out of the golds way. Grab, toss, stack. Grab, toss, stack. It's a neverending stream of motion for the Herder. Karasa takes a shakey breath from an adrinaline rushed standpoint, and continues her work. Lyllya's question brings a weak, shakey reply from the candidate. "I'm alright," she gaps, her throat dry. Zelphyn, Danube, and Mardi continue to pour black grains over the eggs, the piles around them starting to grown in height as the trio works at breakneck speed. Takovic's emotions never left--they were just swept into his general nervousness and displayed in splitsecond flashes amidst general alarm. His speed is decreasing, though. Which means you can actually see the emotions better. Nodding jerkily at Lyllya, he's all right now that the situation seems to be under control. Fortunately, though, it doesn't occur to him quite yet what K'les realizes about the loss. He's currently got new musical ideas running through his mind for what time they're allowed. Scooting back quickly at Zivath's motion, he glances around again, concerned about what was saved before what was lost, and how to portray it. If he's not too sore to write after this. Maura is now on her knees, piling sand as fast as she, and now her firelizards, can move. The next bag is finished and passed on. With the sudden command Maura jumps up and away from the gold, then falls to her knees again to continue the fillage. Her muscles moving with only adrenilian to sustain them now. Meshach tosses yet another sack over tot he tunnel. His muscles are on fire, but he's not going to complain now. He wouldn't stop helping now if he was asked. He moves back to get out of the gold's way, but the sandbags keep moving. "Do you think that they could think yet?" The shards aren't looked at but the question to Merdan is clear none the less. Another bag is passed, no thrown, to the stranger on Mesh's right. The stream seems never ending, but eventually everything must end. Lyllya spots Spryte and, in a rather odd move, motions her into the line. "Good, then you can help. We need to block that water from coming in.. again." A lock of sopping hair is brushed from the weaver candie's face before yet another bag of sand is moved. "Let's just hope that was the last move from this storm." Spryte pauses as she absorbs the words of her fellow candidate, 'could they think yet' it is almost her undoing, she does not want to think of the eggs and the lives they contained or that the fledgling dragonets may have suffered. White face peers at Lyllya, a nod and she steps to the other line to assist there. Where doesn't matter, but the eggs....stop it...do not think of it, just keep working. She does not look towards the queen or her rider, but keeps her head bowed and once again attends to the work. The shaking in her limbs is reaction not just trembling from the loads she keeps lifting. K'les abruptly pauses her shoveling, and stares at Mescach. "Have you attended an egg touching, candidate? Do you think you would get a reaction of any kind if there wasn't some sort of awareness?" K'les' voice is iron edged, and her eyes flash angrily. Not her usual demeanor, but the stress of the moment has affected them all. She shakes her head and resumes the thought numbing work. Merdan turns and looks at the wall. He pauses and almost misses a sack thrown to him, but catches it and passes it on. His eyes begin to tear up and he shudders "It's not the eggs, it's the golds, and dragons. So many eggs." it's all he can do to steel himself and continue to move sand, the work numbing his mind and the stink of the salt water wearing at his will and resolve. Takovic stops as well, probably just another sporadic break to adjust something, but it's timed so he can hear K'les. Resuming shoveling slowly, he notes, "You know, that was the first time I touched an egg, as it were, tonight, the first time..." He should have gone earlier, right? Or is it his own fault for trying to find spare snatches of time to write ideas down. Elisa had been fretting and worrying after the first full day of the storm. She thought she had anticipated everything. The wall is sufficient now to keep the waters back, it just needs to be reinforced to make sure no sudden surges nudge it free. Stepping away from the sandbagging, her feet splash in the pools of water still remaining. "We... we need to-to..." Her eyes look from the wall, to the entrance, to Fabrinath and Sabria, to the... She bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut and hands into fists. "My fault," she whispers harshly. Zivath croons softly, her eyes still grey. The goldrider pulls away from her own dragon, hugging herself. "My fault!" Maura goes home. Meshach's question brings horror to the Herder's eyes. Could they think? Of course they could! Tears suddenly flow, blurring her vision as Karasa continues to stack up the sandbags habitually, yet neatly. Numbness flows through her limbs, making her work difficult, since she can hardly feel, but at least she stopped feeling her aching, pounding heart. She touched the eggs first if you don't count anyone but the Candidates, at least along with Lyllya. Her trio of fire-lizards continue to move their own clawfulls of sand, steadfastly, but routinely as they feel the emotions all around them, their eyes going gray as the dragons. Keen. Lyllya shakes her head at Elisa. "You didn't make the rain, and nothing we could have done would have prepared us for this." She'll have a breakdown about her words later. "What's done is done, we have to work for those that are left." Sniffle. More bags are moved from hand to hand, grit covering the weaver's arms and clothing as well as clinging to her hair. Meshach silences and nodes his head mutely. He'd thought, he's not sure what he thought, but he wasn't ready to think of the eggs as alive. The thought that several being died tonight, not that the possibility of them existing was destroyed, but that lives were lost is not a happy thought. One of the eggs he touched earlier could be in the swirls of color at the back wall. The thoughts are pushed out of his head quickly though. If any fester too long Mesh won't be able to continue the passing. He'll just be able to curl up and cry, and that's not what's needed of him now. "They're dead." The thoughts don't leave easily though. T'on heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Spryte turns at Elisa's words, her tears falling without her knowing it. She sidesteps the line to move closer and speak as softly as she can "Elisa?....Weyrwoman? Please, it is not your fault, it is no ones fault, no one could have predicted this and you have done all you can. Please..." her voice is soft and full of concern " You are tired and...." she wishes she had the words to help the woman, but right now, the words fail her. If she knew her better she would know how to comfort her, if such a thing is possible in the face of what is around them. But she has not the words or the knowledge. Seldom in her life has she felt so helpless, so she moves slowly away to return to work. Takovic shovels slowly now, looking back, first thinking about his own remark, then raising his eyebrows with concern at Elisa's reaction. He doesn't cry, but he inwardly criticizes himself for commenting on touching eggs when others are thinking of draconic senses. Of course that's more important, of course! Sagging a bit at that thought, he suddenly picks up a new determination to shovel in compensation for his thoughts. As for Elisa, he glances back again and shakes his head. "As it were, you're not in charge of weather, you know, not you, not you...One might say nobody is, you know, nobody..." But it's hard to find nobody at fault. S'tan swears under his breath. He glances Sabria's way to make sure she's doing well, then walks over to his weyrmate. "Go melancoly on me, Elisa, and I'll ground you. Now make sure Zivath is okay, then make sure Sabria and hers have calmed sufficiently." Better for a goldrider to comfort another. K'les tone is mildly chiding, adding her protestations to others. "How could this be your fault, Elisa? It's not like this has ever happened before, could have been anticipated." K'les drives her shovel into the sand pile, turning to Elisa, ducking her head to catch the Weyrwoman's eye. "It's not your fault." Sabria doesn't hear anything at the moment, all she has at the moment is the mind of her grieving dragon still watching guardedly over the remains of the clutch. Her clothing clings to her, drying only slightly in the steamy air, her hair is in ropey tendrils, her cheeks tear streaked too. She glances around finally to see that most of the damage has been stemmed, recovery in process. Through the crowds, she looks for certain faces among the helpers, friends, family. Lyllya spots T'on and, for the first time in all of this mess, refrains from speaking. All the candidate can do is gesture toward the remaining clutch and then back at the current effort helplessly before another bag is placed in her arms to be passed on. Arial steps back as others do as well, dark blue eyes welling up as she makes a concerted effort not to glance towards the flotsam piled up against the far wall. Dark gaze goes from Elisa to Sabria, Zivath to Fabrinath. Tears stream down, falling silently on wet sand as she loses herself in the loss, the loss of so many... Shaking with emotion, she weaves drunkenly as she holds back the sobs that threaten to break through. She's only holding on to the slightest remnants of control, a spinner's thread away from sinking entirely down into her grief. T'on is rather haggard, but being in a room full of screaming children who can hear what's going on and not see, and are terribly frightened by it, will do that to you. When the crap hits the proverbial fan, T'on's first thought is to check on his children. It was only then that Kyrith woke and informed him of the greater scope of the calamity, and so he detatched himself and headed down here. Looking around, his heart leaps into his throat. He doesn't need to look at Lyllya, nor count the eggs. All he has to do is look at Sabria. Then he starts to make his way towards her, as fast as possible, given the prevailing terrain conditions. Karasa works dutifully at the stacking of bags, her mind a blur of whatnot as the voices blur around her into the endless stream of numb chaos. Zelphyn pauses in his sand carting to chirr a soft comfort to his human-pet before returning back to his labors. Karasa blinks away tears, and emotions as she continues to stackpile the sandbags in an endless stream of motion. Hair suddenly whips around into face, making vision impossible. In a spare moment of motion she brushes the plastered strands back, and continues to work with a blank faced look in her eyes and upon her normally happy countinance. From the Galleries, Riain has connected. Never, never tell Elisa she is wrong. Not when she's already in a not- good mood. The only thing that saves the candidates and other riders from a scathing reply is the one who gets it. "Zivath?" she asks S’tan incredulously. "Is /Zivath/ okay? Of /course/ she is okay! She did a better job than /I/ sharding did!" Melancholy? No, it's beyond that. "/My/ fault! I forgot the sharding hallway!" In that singular error, the Weyrwoman damns herself. "How can I face Sabria? How can I /tell/ her it was /my/ fault?" she hiss-snarls. Zivath croons, keens and growls... all at once. Takovic still doesn't cry, but it's not because he's trying to look brave or because he's not affective. It's rather the opposite--that's he's too overwhelmed, that he's thinking about too much to know quite how to react now, or to even remember to react. The extent of how he's reacting at this point is to turn his head toward a noise--and to fidget typically. He'll sort out what happened in his mind when he gets back to the barracks, or when he realizes how cramped he'll be physically as well as mentally. But now, save for the raised eyebrows seldom seen above his spectacles for so long, his expression is practically flat. Takovic goes home. Sabria covers the rest of the intervening distance between her dragon and her weyrmate by hurling herself into his arms with a sob, giving up the show of strength at Fabrinath's side with a loud wailing cry. Not once in her twenty odd years as a Weyrwoman has she ever faced such a disaster before. The great queen continues to keen her loss, though she grows tired, lying with her hulking form between the pooling brackish water and the high mound where the surviving eggs have been placed. "Oh T'on! It just all came pouring in! There wasn't anyway to stop it before it hit the clutch!" "How can you be so selfish?" S'tan demands of Elisa, grabbing her arm and giving her a quick shake. "This is not about you, this is about those eggs, and Fabrinath. She's just spent the most harrowing hours of her life, and you're standing here moaning about /you/ feel?" Frowning, he adds, "And what am I supposed to do? Sabria stuck on the Sands, nearly incapcitated by grief and you wallowing in your own misery. I need a competent Weyrwoman right now and I won't let you indulge yourself right now." The bags slow as the wall grows and Meshach tries to find something else to keep his mind off the pain around him. A lumpy bag of wet sand is passed two handedly to the next person before Mesh stares down at his feet. The water swirling around his sodden feet isn't going to go away by it's self and as long as it's there no one will be happy. So much for being lazy and avoiding sand bags. These lighter thoughts are almost forced over Mesh's deeper thoughts to cover them for the moment. Dwelling on them right now will make him useless. "How long do you think it will take to get rid of the water?" A safe question finally. One that can be answered safely. Elisa's outburst is noted, but not respond to. Mesh is too drained to comfort anyone else right now. From the Galleries, Riain heads for the main tunnel out. Riain heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. Merdan looks at the wall and then looks around for one of the riders. He has a question. Avoiding the gold riders, he heads for the familiar face of Arial. "I can get some buckets and we can bail the lower areas out if you would like Rider Arial." Kyrith croons softly, moving away from where she'd been using her body to try to steam the flow of water, not to much effect, but her heart was in the right place, at the very least. She moves, crooning to Fabrinath. While her lifemate consoles the rider, she wants to pitch in too, and help Fabrinath. T'on just wraps his strong arms around Sabria, holding her close, lowering his head to lean against hers, grieving as well. He heard from Kyrith and came running, but that didn't make the reality of seeing it any easier to bear. From the Galleries, Jondalar has connected. Elisa glares darkly at S'tan. Mostly because he's right. "Let go of me!" she snarls, pulling out of S'tan's grip. Yes, she needs to be strong... but she can't seem to move her feet any nearer to Sabria or Fabrinath. She just hugs her gold's head as best she can for several moments before she can find the strength to even attempt an approach. From the Galleries, Jondalar heads for the main tunnel out. Meshach goes home. At least she's moving again. S'tan isn't thrilled, but... Looking over the wreckage, he notes, "Alright folks. Let's try and get some of the moisture off the Sands." Spryte nods to herself as Elisa is kept busy by S'tan and goes back to the work, the never ending work of protecting what is left of the clutch. As she lifts more bags she finaly surveys the area, eyes allowed to go towards the wall. Not her eggs, not her weyr, not her home, but yet she grieves. Thoughts go to the Hold and the state it must be in as well, but there is no time to dwell on that, Any news from that quarter will be forthcoming shortly and she can only hope her family is safe. The light hearted girl of earlier today may be a thing of the past. This has shaken her to the core. Arial straightens her shoulders at Merdan's words, she nods. "Yes, gather some of your fellow candidates together to form a bucket brigade. It'll be more efficient that way." Still ignoring the worst of the disaster, she turns her back on it to study the Sands. Ok. Elisa's losing it. As everyone seems close to doing. And S'tan's asking for it. K'les decides now would be a good time to see if she's needed outside. Surely there's barricading to be done there, too. Pfelth paces to K'les' side, still keening softly and gives her lifemate a reassuring nudge. She looks at Sabria, concern reflected in her face, but feels actions will speak more loudly than words at this moment. She mounts Pfelth, who heads outside to lend her aid. K'les leaves the foot-baking sands for the cooler galleries. From the Galleries, K'les heads up to the viewing ledges. Riain isn't quite sure what to do, or what to say, and instead sidles quietly over towards Lyllya -- now, she suspects, isn't quite the time to make noise or say something rude. "What should I do now?" Merdan turns and moves toward the other candidates "We need to get buckets and make a line. We need to get this water out of the hatching sands." He then heads off to bring the buckets back. Lyllya points to the sandbags. "Just step in line, you'll catch on." That would be humor at any other time. "We're just trying to make a barricade for the water right now." The clean up she doesn't even want to /think/ about. "They'll give us orders next." Karasa looks at the piled sandbags, putting on the last one in a fairly tall stack. "Actually, Lyllya," she says, her voice toneless. "We should get the water out now. After Merdan copmes back with the buckets anyway." The Herder quickly checks the wall, making sure the bags are in order, and blocking the entrance firmly. "Lyllya, I'm going to go help Merdan get soem buckets, would you coem help us as well?" she asks, walking back over to the girl as the brown, blue and green finish their sand move efforts. Merdan clambers over the sandbags carefully and hops into the water on the other side. Merdan heads out the mouth of the main entrance. Karasa heads out the mouth of the main entrance. Sabria clings to her weyrmate, exhausted, alternating between feeling overheated in the steam and being cold from the still damp state of her clothing. "Oh why...whyyy?" She is normally as vibrant and strong as any weyrwoman is, but now that the matter is out of her hands, she's starting to go to pieces, concentrating but on just her queen who's dejected manner is unmistakable, the bulk of her body shielding the sight of the eggs, making the count of the surviving ones difficult. "It's all such a mess." Burying her face into the front of T'on's jacket, she sobs, not even wanting to look at the damage at the other end of the cavern where the broken eggs lie. Riain obediently steps into line, and then back again, and then back intit again. She's not too sure of what to do and continues to wander around, what to do, and just looks. And waits. Karasa heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands. T'on isn't going to make her look at the broken eggs, that's for sure. He does look up though, his gaze crossing the cavern to where her queen and his green are. "Come dear." He murmurs gently, softly. "We need to be with Fabrinath now." At least, standing over there. He thinks anyway. "Riain," Ari barks out, stress tinging her voice as well. "Step in line to help remove the rest of this water from the Sands. Merdan should be back soon with the buckets. Oh, and see if you can get some other candidates and residents together to help you form a line outside." Ari's had her selfish cry, now she needs to step back in and help again. Karasa walks back into the Hatching Grounds, carting several buckets, all stacked under her arms. She quickly places them at the end of the line that once served as sandbag passers, but will now serve as water bearers, well, sort of. The Herder quickly walks back to the end of the line with a bucket of her own, starting to dummp out water, careful not to pick up too much sand. Lyllya nods to Riain and keeps on moving the sandbags, not even catching the mention of buckets in her present state of numbness. "I just hope this doesn't repeat.." The wall of bags is eyed. "Wonder how high..." Oh, buckets. She heard it that time. The ex-weaver makes off and returns with two buckets in her hand, placing one aside and using the other to begin the bailing. S'tan rubs at his head before taking a big breath. "Come on, Mas..let's check out the damage elsewhere," he notes to his own lifemate before mounting and flying off. Time to see exactly how much was wrecked. Elisa simply... cannot face Sabria. She just can't. But she looks at the damage that was caused in here. "Zivath," she whispers. "We need... help." She closes her eyes a moment. "To clean this up." She will leave it up to Zivath to know which dragons and riders can stomach this part of the clean up. Zivath whuffles her lifemate and follows her, blocking the view of the... remains... from the others working to get rid of the water. Riain inquires of Lyllya: "Borrow a bucket?" Bailing certinally seems necessary, and she's more inclined to work with water than with heavy bags of sand. "Where, what do I do?" She's not as much new to flooding as to flooding on the sands with people distressed. From the Galleries, Ioku appears from **BETWEEN** S'tan goes home. Lyllya points toward the discarded bucket and nods. "There, go ahead. I can only handle one, at the moment." The weaver's hands shake as more water is tossed over the side of the barrier and a thankful glance is cast in Zivath's direction. She can think about that damage later. Sabria allows T'on to maneuver her back to Fabrinath and Kyrith's side, finally drooping as her knees start to give out. The poor woman is shagged, tired. Not hardly as young as she was when she coordinated the effort to bring the Weyr down into these Southern lands where such storms bring such damages. The landlocked Bahrain Weyr never faced anything like this, so she didn't think of the other entrance either. Her cheek now pressed to the golden hide, her sobbing reduces to mere sniffling, the hot sands sticking to her clothes. "The weyrling barracks must be a disaster." They're what's just beyond that dammed tunnel after all. Riain concentrates solely on moving the water away, out, /there/; moving it somewhere else than where it is currently, though of of curiousity she eyes Fabrinath and Sabria and questions, softly: "How bad was the damage?" Arial cocks her head and sighs, looking at those around her. "Kym needs help in the barracks," she excuses herself before heading towards the entrance, her shoulders drooping. Arial heads out the mouth of the main entrance. T'on shakes his head. "I don't care." He comments softly, reaching up to gently stroke her cheek. "Right now, my only concern is you and Fabrinath." And this is true. That's all he's worried about right now. He can clean the Barracks later. Lyllya looks back at Riain. "Bad, lost a lot of eggs in that wave..." She's not even going to mention the breakage and the other.. remnants. "Some of them were saved, though. We can at least be thankfull for that." The ex-weaver seems to be wavering just a bit and turns to her fellow candidate. "I think I'm going to be sick.. I need to go sit before I fall over in here." Which is the last thing that everyone needs. Lyllya heads out the mouth of the main entrance. Spryte continues eyeing the area, most of which is now under control and placing the last bag, wipes her hands on her pants and sighs "I'm going to see what damage was caused elsewhere." short and simple, but other areas now need help. Eyes still not looking anywhere she heads towards the entrance. A small group of dragons wing into the grounds, circling and landing near the younger gold. The riders know better than to try to console the Senior Weyrwoman and set about the grim task of getting everything out of the sand that is not... sand. They are more experienced riders, only one leaving at a time, vanishing while within the cavern, reappearing where they had blinked between from. It is not a very long moment of eternity as the job is completed. Elisa's self-recriminations have withdrawn into a cold silence, though the haunted look is still in her eyes. Spryte goes home. T'on will note that, at this point, he and Kyrith's bodies have been rather strategically placed so that Sabria and Fabrinath can avoid having to see those riders. Karasa continues to bucket, even if everyone else is leaving her to the task, she's to numbed to care. Buckets of water continue to be poured over the sand walls edge, and the ammounts of water minutely diminish as the Herder Candidate works as fast as her trembling muscles will allow. Zelphyn and Danube flits out of the Caverns for a moment, both coming back with a cup type object in their claws, scooping up water and trying to help their human-pet in her valiant efforts. Scoop, pour, scoop, pour. How many buckets more? Finally, the cluster of grim riders depart, one by one, their work completed. Zivath remains on the sands, watching that barrier of sandbags warily, not trusting them to do their job forever until the water actually receeds. Elisa just looks at the sand that she had assisted in cleaning, staring for several minutes before she finally is able to wrench her eyes from them, looks over her shoulder at Sabria, T'on, and the remaining dragons, and closes her eyes, running from the cavern. More stumbling on the soft, uneven terrain until she reaches the mouth of the tunnel and disappears. [end of log]
Maura heads out from the main ground tunnel entrance to the Sands.
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