It's been 50 turns since Moreta's fateful ride and the plague that depleted the populations of Hall, Hold, and Weyr. Outbreaks of plague continued up until recent times, putting yet more stress on an already limping world. The long journey toward rebuilding has been going on for some time, but it will take generations to rebuild areas to what they once were.
Each Weyr has been encouraged to take as many from their own lower caverns as possible for the hatching sands in order to relieve the burden of Hold and Hall, but those numbers hardly seem enough with the large clutches being produced. In order to solve this problem, Fort Weyr has begun to place girls on the sands to fill out the ranks on fighting dragons, drawing ill-favor from those who think women should stay in their place and do their part to produce future generations.
OOC NOTE:VP takes place 50 turns after the events in Moreta. Women are being increasingly kept out of anything aside from marriage in most of the world, but this doesn't mean they cannot be crafters/riders. It's also important to remember that certain crafts do not exist within the theme: Dolphincraft is not available.
Please remember that this is NOT a family or PG/G rated MOO. We deal, as the books did, with adult themes.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Downtime!
Virtuapern is experiencing some downtime. We anticipate it returning on Aug 31st and apologize for any inconvenience.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Benden Weyr Hatching- Gold Mizuth by Bronze Sameth
Tomi has snuck in, or at least tried to as much as a newly graduated queenrider can sneak. It helps that she doesn't look or act much like a goldrider, she even refuses to wear a knot. And with that streak of dirt across one cheek, she might as well be yet another weyrbrat shirking her duties in hopes of catching a glimpse of the hatching eggs. "Good timing as always," she comments to her lifemate with a bemused shake of her head. "How do you always seem to know when things are happening?"
F'ox walks in.
N'ico isn't far behind Tomi, though the timing is purely coincidental. With a cautious eye of Campeoth, the bronzerider is quick to catch up with his classmate and insistently gestures toward a few empty seats nearby. "Seems like we're all here to watch, aren't we Tomi."
From the Hatching Sands, The eggs have been in various states of rocking for some time, but show no signs of hatching just yet. Lyllya, already rushing to her dragon's side, looks around. "Well, it had to happen sometime, right? At least you'll be out of the cavern after this."
From the Hatching Sands, T'on rambles onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair wanders onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
M'dan mutters to himself, glancing at a number or copper rings tied to a leather thong on his belt. His attention is directed suddenly to the sands as he hears Lyllya's voice, though faintly. He watches as the candidates enter.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
Kaisha heads up to the viewing ledges.
"N'ic," the weyrwoman startles slightly before shooting her clutchmate a rueful grin. "Guess Campeoth has a feeling for these sort of things, too." Glancing towards the gestured seats, the teenager nods and settles quickly before adding nostalgicly, "This brings back memories, doesn't it? And yet, it's so odd to be just a spectator. I can-" whatever the blonde was going to say is suddenly interrupted as the candidates make their way out onto the Sands. "They're such a diverse bunch, aren't they? And look... is that Ancair, from our Weyr?!" Chuckling to herself, the goldrider unapologetically smirks. "Serves him right. He's nothing but a troublemaker."
From the Hatching Sands, Hroswitha walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Angharad walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Zasey walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris manages to restrain the urge to bolt across the stands to find the perfect spot and instead, the girl walks alongside several candidates as the emerge onto the hatching sands. As she approaches Mizuth and Lyllya, she affords both a graceful bow and as the eggs continue to shake, she breaks from the group and stands at the outer edge of the eggs.
"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching,
From the Hatching Sands, The eggs begin to rock in earnest, their dam settling to one side as she watches them and the candidates. "Well, but you can't expect much. They're candidates, dear, they get to wear something other than white once this is over," Lyllya points out. Leave it to her dragon to be all for a change in candidate appearance.
"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks on the Sands, dutifully following the Candidate in front of her. Remembering to bow to Mizuth, and making a graceful leg to the queen, she quickly fans out in the semi-circle, heading for the far wall, ending up next to Solaris at the outer edge of the eggs. The heat from the sands has already caused some perspiration to bead up on her forehead.
"He says it is our duty to observe each and every hatching," N'ico says with a brief glance toward his bronze, who thrums alongside the Weyr's dragons. "Otherwise we'd be at home doing drills."
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg rocks slowly, one way and then another. An epic battle drawing nigh as expectations rise. But then it settles and it's as if it never moved at all.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian follows the progression of Candidates out onto the Sands, hovering towards the tail end as far as he can manage without being completely left behind. Showing only a grimace at the heat under the soles of his sandals, he strolls in slowly but does not skimp on paying homage to the towering forms of the watching dragons. A bow to Mizuth in particular and then he's off to hide in the back of the throng of white clad bodies.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea steps out onto the Sands, smoothing her hands over her somewhat rumpled robe, tugging a fallen sleeve back up onto her shoulder. Looking around her nervously, she bobs in a tense bow to both clutchdam and sire, then to each of their riders, before finding her spot near to the eggs. She runs a hand through her messy hair, which is wet enough to suggest she's come straight from the baths, and waits, anxiously biting on her lip.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on stumps over to Lyllya, grimmacing slightly at the heat eminating from below. "Figures. Mizuth must talk to Kyrith too much for her eggs to be ready to hatch right as Kyrith and I were returning from between." He didn't even have time to change out of his riding leathers. So he's a little warm right now.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair follows the rest like a herd of herdbeasts. All he has to say now is 'mooooo' to make it all fit in. But follow he does, giving a bit of a flutter to his robe to get some air between skin and cloth. Suppose there is something good in wearing a robe. By rote, he gives a bow or somesuch to the gold, and then decides maybe he should go stand in the back. Best escape route direction. At a bump from another candidate, he turns to look at Kyrian, and smirks faintly. "Coward," he whispers harshly.
From the Hatching Sands, Birthday Cake Egg's top begins to crack, then simply slides off. There's a momentary pause, but then a bronzed head peeks through and the rest of the shell flakes away. It doesn't take much time for the stumbling dragonet to make his way toward a young man from Benden Hold. Unfortunately, he knocks the lad over and nearly sits on his lap. "Danceth! C'mon, get offa me!" And so it is that the first Impression is made.
From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Birthday Cake Egg.
Torikan sits, watching the hatching as his duty to the Weyr as one of it's beholden. He sits next to the Lord Holder of Lemos, and the two chat softly, pointing out both eggs and candidates to each other.
From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks, but wastes no time in preliminaries.
From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks ever so slightly, echoing its previous movements as if it were trying to roll out of the sandy impression that is its bed. Minute cracks form along the shell, giving it a fuzzy appearance that then begins to fall away. The progress is slow at first, then becomes a mighty *CRACK* that splits the shell in half, leaving behind a dragonet that seems to have been caught in the midst of his evening nap.
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Deepest cobalt coats the diminutive 'knobs and blunted wedge-shape of his head, the color interrupted only by a lining of charcoal that surrounds each slightly slanted eye. Spirals of near black trail along his neck, curling about each sloped 'ridge like mystical writing from some far off time, there and then gone again before they can be deciphered. Midnight unfolds along his flanks, where the scribe's hand is seen once again fading in and out of shadow until it is wiped away along the quiet gloaming of his under-belly. His wings appear just large enough to lift his form to the air, their veined expanse shading into sunrise aqua. His limbs are a stocky affair, each paw tipped in scimitar talons that find echo in the slightly curved tip of his ink stained tail.
Torikan adds, since the one egg was impatient and hatched before he finished, his voice raises a little bit as he exclaims to the Lemosian Lord: "Shells! A bronze! Tis a good omen for the Weyr!"
"Each and every one," Tomi raises a brow and then reaches over to offer the bronzerider a sympathetic pat. "Campeoth certainly takes his duties seriously. And with Zinia at Igen now, that's just one more Weyr you'll be visiting in the near future. After all, if my calculations are correct, Aevaleth should be due to rise soon." As should be another certain gold, but this little weyrwoman's deep in denial. "Oh look, bronze first. And a quick Impression too. That's got to bode well. And hmm... that blue. There's something a little effeminate about him, isn't there?"
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's expression brightens at the first impression, nudging a smaller candidate in the ribs to note, "You know what they say about bronze impressions being first." The rest of her chatter comes upon deaf ears as the other candidate is focused on the newly arrived blue and quickly, Solaris is as well. "He is lovely, isn't he," she mentions, shifting her weight to she is leaning more toward Moriya with the comment.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya claps her hands in delight as her fellow Benden Holder Impresses to the bronze occupant of the Birthday Cake Egg. "Good for you!" she calls, then focuses on the other eggs. Suddenly, a mighty crack heralds a gorgeous blue dragon. "He's just so, beautiful," she says in awed wonder. "I didn't know they were so beautiful when they Hatch." She aims this last remark towards Solaris, smiling in delight.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya grins at T'on. "Well, girls do tend to conspire. I'm sure that she waited until the last possible minute to let Kyrith know. How else to drag you in here in leathers?" She's amused by this, but then a bronze hatches, followed by blue. "Well, there you are. Looks like another interesting group of Weyrlings from the start."
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian knocks shoulders with Ancair and scowls at the other boy. "Oh really? What, you too busy oggling your impending doom to watch where you're walking?" he growls lowly, barely audible in the large cavern. The back of the crowd should have been far less occupied by this and so he casually reaches out and shoves the other boy further away from himself. His attention is then drawn to the first crack of the shells, making him start a little nervously, letting out a breath as the dragonet finds his victim quickly. "One down."
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers forward like a drunkard, knocking into one candidate only to pin-ball into another. A croon issues forth that seems somewhat slurred as he makes for the ladies. Ah, perfume. Or sweat. One way or the other, these ones are more pleasing to the eye.
The first impression brings a peculiar look to N'ico's otherwise stern features and like many riders, he glances toward his lifemate on the ledge nearby. Tomi's response lulls him back and with a shake of his shoulders, he quietly states, "Yes, Campeoth and I have already talked about that. Hopefully we can just keep to Fort." Although the bronze has other plans.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks at the blue. Then he looks back at Lyllya. "Mizuth is never allowed to clutch again." He says, before rubbing his face with one hand, starting to strip his jacket off with the other. "I'm going to go crazy. Maybe I should go down south with Sabria."
From the Hatching Sands, Piea squirms a bit at the hot sand squishing up through her toes. She seems totally absorbed in the fact that she is in the middle of this gigantic cavern, with all these people and eggs. Overwhelming situations call for drastic measures, so she stands where she is and just looks at everyone else.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya laughs out loud, forgetting the heat of the sands momentarily. "I'm sure that will put a stop to this mess altogether," she agrees, leaning against her lifemate who is watching the happenings with interest. "Go? Why, T'on, do you mean to imply that you're anything but?"
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair stutters a step to the side, only managing to catch himself on yet another candidate. Naturally, that rather plump gives Ancair quite the look, possibly something of a growl and shoves him right on back towards Kyrian. Mmmmmm, candidate pinballs. Temper, anyone? "The only thing I've oggled lately is that Telgar girl's ankles. Get off, will you? Stop crowding me, Kyrian." Push.
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers just a bit more, landing his nose right into the hem, then under, of Ancair's robe. Staggering back, he gives the most offended look possible for a dragonet before moving on. It's then that he spots it, a bastion of calm in the sea of heat and moving candidates. Or perhaps that's only his hazed perception. At any rate, he's definitely found that special person. Piea.
From the Hatching Sands, "I always thought they'd be...." Solaris throws her hands into the air, unable to come up with the right words, "But still, they are gorgeous, aren't they?" She looks to Moriya, quickly distracted by the blue that is headed toward Piea and as the impression occurs, a small squeal escapes the candidate: "Piea!"
From the Hatching Sands, Bronzed Shoes Egg begins to stir, the sound of cracks forming along its surface echoing through the hatching chamber like far off thunder. It shifts, tilting to the side at first, then begins to fall apart until that which was held captive within is freed.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, African moonlight dances to a silvered tribal beat along a slender, sylph-like spine, each supple curve hauntingly highlighted with the faint, hazy glow of white gold. Darkness engulfs sensitive paws, midnight tipping each lethal talon, before climbing higher up delicate limbs lightening until it blurs into a burnished, near bronze. Near-mocha accentuates the fey upward slant of her eyes and the exotic curve of her teacup muzzle. Sea-soaked golden sand mottles her prideful chest and vulnerable underbelly, varying little as it dapples over the vast expanse of fragile sails.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't help but grin as the little blue swaggers around the Sands, bumping into the candidates. "Y'know, I get the feeling he's doing that on /purpose/," she remarks to Solaris, wiping absently at the beaded sweat on her brow. "Don't you?" She shifts slightly, the first indication that her feet are beginning to get overheated on the hot Sands, then sucks in her breath as the blue Impresses. "PIEA!"
Arching her brow some more, Tomi casts a speculative glance towards her clutchmate. "You've talked about these things, have you?" One of their previous conversations echoes hauntingly inside her head as she asks, "Just this side of graduation and you're already plotting world conquest, huh?" Smirking, she turns back to the eggs on the Sands and adds under her breath, "Still, if you're planning on waiting for Fort's next flight, you could find yourself waiting a very, very, very long time." Or so she hopes. Haseth's not yet two. She's got at least four months of freedom before her.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea stands stock still, with an expression of complete shock on her face. "What did you thay?" She looks around then down, her blue eyes meeting those of the blue dragonet, before she bursts into tears of happiness and crouches down to throw her arms around her new lifemate's neck. "Oh. Oh I oh, Korsanth!" Through happy sniffles and tear-wiping, she manages to speak the dragon's name once more, so that the rest of the people gathered around can hear. "My lifemate's name is Korsanth!"
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian hisses quietly, an eye flicking towards the weyrleaders before shoving Ancair back and nearly into the passing blue. "You can have all the room you want up there! Go on closer, no one says you gotta hover back here, git off!" As the dragonet then acquaints himself with Piea, he lets out a relieved breath and manages a cheer for the girl's 'good' fortune.
From the Hatching Sands, Pretty My Little Pony Egg moves ever so slightly, making the ponies dance. After all, what are little ponies if not playful.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can scarcely tear her eyes away from Piea's Impression, but she does at last, in time to see the little gold Hatch. "Solaris, look at that lovely gold!" she says, her eyes widening. "I'd say she'll be one who knows what she wants, don't you think?" One of her favourite eggs moves, and she keeps watch on it out of the corner of her eye while she watches to see which way the gold is going to go.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet comes forth from her egg nearly standing, her wings outstretched to give them the best opportunity to be seen and to dry. The candidates are looked over with near disdain, but she moves forward to inspect them all. This one? No. That one? Maybe. Up her nose goes as she approaches near where Kyrian stands, shoving her head under the hem of his robe and whuffling. A boy! Stepping back with an offended whuff, she tips her head for all the world as if she were putting her nose in the air and then stumbles off.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris, though she tries not to, gasps as the gold emerges. Stubbornly, she remains in place, shifting only slightly onto her toes as the heat begins to penetrate through her thick-soled sandals. Her eyes dance toward the remaining shards of her favored egg, though it doesn't take long for her attention to go toward Piea as she proudly announces her dragon's name. "Korsanth, Piea!!!" Hands clasp together before her chest and her eyes warily drift to Moriya. "She is, isn't she, I never imagined them to look like tht."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is stumbling once more as he is shoved. He really needs a few more turns on him to be able to hold his own against the older candidate. He nearly falls to a knee, but instead grabs right onto Kyrian's wrist to try to hold himself up. "I'm not going up there! You go up there." So lame. He flickers a glance to the recent impressions, and smirks. And when that gold goes Kyrian sniffing, the boy bursts into laughter. "Not much up there, huh?"
From the Hatching Sands, Back Yard Egg bursts into life, then simply bursts. A plump brown nearly rolls out of the shell and then into a boy from Beastcraft. "Rolth? Get up, you're gonna... wait. His name is Rolth!" B'hal embraces his lifemate, egg goo and all, forgetting the heat under his sandals.
From the Hatching Sands, There is a time when the flights of fancy that young girls possess must fade away into the dust of time, toys of childhood placed on shelves, taken out again with fondness after years pass. But then again, sometimes little sisters break said toys. In this case, the Pretty My Little Pony Egg seems to take a deep, shuttering breath, then cracks and crumples to the ground, revealing....
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Regal curves and elfish grace form sleek lines along verdant hide, creating an image of speed and immortal power. Evergreen fades to smoky quartz at the tip of each neckridge, their gently sloping form drooping ever so slightly as if expressing some hidden sorrow. Her features lose none of their draconic grace for all that they are reduced into pixie-like appearance--Her torso is long, giving her a somewhat waifish appearance that takes nothing away from her fairy tale splendor. Her wings are voluminous, held with ethereal beauty, wan sails dappled with gold like sunlight through leaves that create shifting patterns of dancing light between dark green spars. Limbs that speak of hidden strength have been coated in brilliant emerald, each chalcedony tipped talon echoed by the be-jeweled tip of her ever so slender tail.
From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Back Yard Egg.
"Of course we've talked about these things, don't you and Haseth discuss things..." N'ico stops mid-sentence and eyes Tomi, "Nevermind, sometimes I forget that not everyone is as.... /obsessed/ as Campeoth is." Obsessed is putting it nicely, really. Bronzerider looks to the sands as the impressions continue, nodding approval before looking to Tomi. "Thing is... are you ready for this?" He gestures toward the sands below and smirks.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian turns from his little disagreement with the other candidate just in time to get a crotch full of gold dragonet. "Hey! No looking! Shells! Not for you! Git!" The sudden embarrassed flush that flashes over his face counters the rough stammering words, but it turns to the red of anger at his neighbor's laughter. "I have nothing to hide! (anymore) Maybe you're the one who's got something to prove." With that, he reaches over and flicks up the hem of Ancair's robe in retaliation.
From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the Evening Egg begins to rock, fissures forming into cracks along its dark surface. Bits of shell begin to flake away, but nothing is yet revealed.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya stops in her tracks, the gold dragon completely forgotten as a little green emerges from the pretty egg. "Oh!" is all that comes out of her mouth, for she stands stock still, the heat from the Sands seeping unchecked into the sole of her sandal.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's eyes widen in horror. "Did she just? She did not?" She nudges Moriya insistently, pointing toward Kyrian as the gold brushes out from beneath his robe. "I didn't know they did that either..." It would seem that today is full of new discoveries and though she drops both hands to her sides, a look of pure disbelief still remains on the girl's face.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is rather busily laughing at Kyrian's distress and embarrassment, because... well, it isn't him! He sniggers, and abruptly the world goes white before his eyes, and things get drafty down below. While that is delightfully comfortable, but also leaving him frontal and back flashing the entire cavern. The boy literally squeaks before pushing his robe back down. Bright red in the fact, he immediately turns to try to shove Kyrian as hard as he can. "Fardling dimglow!"
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet moves on with as much dignity as she can muster. Each girl is looked at and then passed by, though one is raked by an inexperienced talon as the young gold shoves the girl aside. Healers move to the fore to take the unfortunate away, but still the dragonet moves on. This one? No. That one? Shiny, but no.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks over the sands, grinning as Kyrian is...put on display. But then Ancair's antics come to his attention, and the Weyrlingmaster starts to growl. "If they Impress I'm going to have no end of peace." He says, glancing first at Lyllya. "And Arial's son or not, if those two don't knock it off, I'm throwing them both off the sands."
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya turns her gaze toward the bickering candidates, her expression becoming stern. "Give them until they start to put themselves or others in danger. If that happens, toss them into the candidate barracks and they'll be on drudge duty." The last words are said loudly. "For life." Beam.
"Of course Haseth and I discuss things," Tomi refutes quickly, perhaps a tad too quickly to be absolute truth. "It's just... well-" Whatever she was going to say is interrupted by the gold dragonet hatching and her subsequent antics. "Oi, Benden's going to have their hands full with that one," she predicts before turning her attention back to the rider beside her. "Ready for... " Blink. Blink. Flush. "Of course we're ready," she replies hotly, though a telltale flush colors her pale cheeks. "After all, Haseth's gold. This is what she's born to do." Or so she tells herself time and time again. Doesn't mean that she's not in denial about exactly /when/ Haseth will add her progeny to Fort. "Look at those two," she quickly changes the subject, pointing towards the shoving candidates. "D'you think that's just nerves or-" Cut short, Tomi can just flush as she ends up seeing far much more of Ancair than she bargained for.
From the Hatching Sands, "They should really just get out of her way," Solaris imperiously states, "Then they wouldn't get hurt like that." Though clearly inexperienced with hatching etiquette, she stares toward both Kyrian and Ancair, unable to cover the chuckle that spills from her lips though she stops the minute T'on speaks, accentuated by Lyllya's statement. With an almost guilty look, her gaze returns to the hatchlings upon the sands, nervously tugging at the hem of her robe from time to time.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet steps away from the shards of her former home, turning her graceful neck for a moment and sniffing sadly at the wreckage. It had been such a pretty place to live, but now it is no more. And so she turns back to the array of white before her. She must choose, she knows, but before she gives her heart and her pledge for life, she would like to make sure she can trust the one who she'd give up immortality for.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet pauses as her sentiments are echoed in a voice, though she can't really understand the words just yet. A demanding creel as well as a tug that adds to the hands already upon the hem of the white robe is sent upward. Hello? Yes. She's down here. Within seconds, another paw reaches up as if to steal Solaris for her own, which is just what she intends.
From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the evening egg begins to shake to a rhythm of its own before toppling over onto its side. A moment of stillness precedes a loud crack that splits the egg in half. It's then that the shell falls away to reveal a dragonet that looks for all the world as if the act of hatching has interrupted a nap.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Blood red springs betwixt pert 'knobs before curling softly along the base of her delicate skull and sweeping downward to tease the base of her elegantly curved neck. Each expressive eye is limned with this vibrant color, the unique shadow resting coquettishly beneath dainty eyeridges. Fairy-dusted emerald supplies the shimmering backdrop of the masterpiece that is this green, from the delicate lines of her elongated neck to the length of her slender torso and tail, both coated in moon-touched verdancy that only deepens as it trails down her limbs and becomes near-black upon each curved talon. Wings and 'sails take on the appearance of dew drenched spinner's webs, catching and reflecting the slightest light in a rainbow of hues only to be tempered by the presence of each 'spar.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya glances away from where the green dragonet just Hatched, glancing towards Kyrian and Ancair for a moment - not quickly enough, mind, to view the offending, er, well, anyway, and she just shakes her head. "Does this happen at every Hatching?" she wonders softly, subtly pulling her own robe in so that a crucial fold is tucked between her knees. As the queen arrives, and picks Solaris, there is no doubt and she claps her hands for her friend. "Bravo, Solaris!" Turning back to the sands, she gasps as another of her favourite eggs splits in half to reveal another lovely green dragonet. "Oh!" she says, again transfixed.
From the Hatching Sands, The sands, candidates, and hatchlings all seem to disappear as the small gold approaches Solaris and with an astonished gaze, the girl drop to her knees to cradle the gold's small wedged head. "Yes, I know you, Jahzarath. I know you very well." A moment of recognition hits her as she blinks to those around her and repeats the name in amazement, "Jahzarath!"
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian only has a moment to stare and snicker himself. "In a hurry were ya, Ancair? Forgot to put something on under the robe? Ha-hey!" He staggers and almost falls over his own feet. "Git over yerself wherry legs!" he snorts, rushing back to elbow the other boy in the side. "You're going to get us thrown out." Oh wait, wasn't that the plan in the first place? Maybe he should have just sucker punched Ancair instead. However he'd like to avoid that whole drudging for life bit. "Just stay away from me. Go watch the gold or something. Supposed to be a momentous time or something." But really, it's hard to concentrate on all the dragonets wandering by when you get shoved around a lot. "Oops, too late. Congratulations Solaris!"
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair immediately puts on his best innocent look. All wide eyes, deliberate deepening of his single dimple, and hands at his sides. Look, the very picture of a perfect candidate. Or something. He turns those big eyes upon T'on, and then Lyllya. But in the next breath he is rolling his eyes at Kyrian, and hopefully under the cover of the other candidates, jabs a finger out to poke Kyrian in the side. You know, just to do it. "Yeah, congrats, he adds rather slowly afterwards after prompting. If you can call getting saddled with a dragon good.
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg still slumbers in the dark emptiness of space, biding its time until the critical moment appears.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is suddenly freed, too bad she's not more graceful. Then again, she just woke up, give her a few minutes to get it together. Those minutes, unfortunately, are spent curled up in the remains of her shell as if he weren't yet ready to get out of bed. That near nap is interrupted by a wake up call from her dam and, with sluggish movements, the green begins to search out the ranks of candidates.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet moves with uncommon grace towards the sea of white, trying to, for the moment, figure out where the faces begin and the cloth parts end. But she first stops at a young man, hiding his face in his hands, terrified that something Awful is about to happen to him. She pokes at him with her tiny, delicate snout, but then moves on, seeking her partner for life.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't decide which of the two green dragonets to follow, so she swivels her head from one to the other, obviously intrigued by the movements of the little ones. No longer rooted to the Sands, she shifts from foot to foot, back and forth, swaying almost hypnotically as she seeks to lessen the burning in her feet. "C'mon, little greens, find your lifemates," she chants under her breath, eager to see who is chosen this time.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian has settled down as well, at least keeping to the occasional poke and sandal kick whenever people's attentions are drawn to the antics of the young dragons instead of the two idiot boys in the back. At the very worst, they'll just be rather bruised by then of the evening. "Huh, get a load of that green, still tucked in like she doesn't even know to get going." He shakes his head and has to look bemused at the terror from another boy candidate. He's got the right idea.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet stops long enough to stretch, but just when it looks like her head might follow the actions of some of her clutch sibs and go under a hem, she stops to yawn. Watch out for those delicates. The movements from the back catch her eye and she toddles back to see what all of the fuss is about. There's trouble, and perhaps she's drawn to it, but then that sand kicking seems interesting. It is, therefore, with a few kicks of her back legs to send more sand onto other candidates that she heads off to the fussing boys.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet stops at one particular candidate, one who seems to be watching both her and her sister. It is not that this candidate is praying desperately to be the one selected, no, it's that this candidate is so filled with concern for the two dragonets, she wants them to pick soon. Which, for the Elven Princess, is just, true, and fair, to be concerned with others before yourself, to be a king, or in this case, queen, among her own kind, if not dragon kind. And so it is that she croons softly and presses her nose gently against Moriya's chest. She has chosen her lifemate.
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg suddenly shivers with renewed vigor, a surprise attack on the opposition.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris stands as the sand's overwhelming heat begins to sink in and even the thick cloth of her robe can protect her so much. "Yes, you do need something to eat, don't you Jahzarath?" Excitement tints her voice as she says the name and drapes her arm across the gold's neck, guiding her toward the many bowls of food prepared for the newly impressed. As she walks away, she looks over her shoulder, keeping a careful eye on the two greens upon the sands, pausing to watch as one moves toward Moriya and impresses. "Moriya!!"
From the Hatching Sands, An age-old conflict comes to a head as crimson and azure seems to brighten and then explode as both sides collide in the final battle. A supernova explosion rocks it, shards exploding to finally reveal the dragonet that was nestled within its core. A cherished new life and yet there seems to be something not quite right with him.
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Burnt umber sinks into deeper midnight shadows, the true brilliance of this hulking dragon lost amidst the veiling darkness of gloomy fog-enshrouded sails that conceal his grotesque form. Smoky bronze shoulders sit solidly below a startlingly hunched spine almost deformed in its severity, each vertebrae ruthlessly delineated by the wicked slash of mottled ridges. Lighter copper slashes violently across a blunted muzzle that lacks any form of beauty before falling into the shadows of overly exaggerated eyeridges that jealously guard the expressive orbs hidden within their mysterious depths.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair darts a wary glance around the area, having completely forgotten that... you know... there are dragonets around here, and they are doing this thing called Impressing. He warily eyes the greens, and then flickers a glance to Kyrian. Shuffle. He gives a good kick to the sand to the other teen, and then tries to maneuver behind him. "She's lookin' at you." Warily.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is, indeed, looking at Kyrian. In fact, she gives a near insulted cry at the sand being kicked in his direction. As if on a mission to rescue the young man, she reaches out to tug at his robe and bring him closer, crooning with joy. Of course, by tugging on the front of his robe, there's a good chance that the back might just slide up, but who'd be paying attention to such things when an impression is going on? For she has claimed Kyrian as her own.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya feels the loving touch of the little green, and before she has a chance to think, she is on her knees doing homage to her own beautiful lifemate, hands moving to caress the dragonet as if they have been doing so all of her life. "Oh, Ceridwyth you /have /found me," she says, tears slipping from her dark eyes unheeded, "Is it really you?" For the former holder girl now turned weyrling cannot quite believe that she is linked for now and for ever with the dainty green dragon.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya pokes at T'on's arm to get his attention. "Last one. You ready for this?" Is that mocking in her voice? Oh, no. Of course not! She's the picture of niceness and innocence. Yep.
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet unfolds from his cramped confines and growls roughly, rather irate with the entire hatching process. His frustration is taken out on a nearby cluster of candidates whom he bowls over with nary a second thought. Bowling for candidates, what fun! And yet, there's an imperceptible feeling that draws him towards another gaggle of white. Not sure what calls to him, what bewitches him so, he markedly limps forward, each movement excruciatingly painful to watch.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian grimaces as he gets a bit of sand in his eye, which is plenty enough as he reaches up to rub it out. Looking in the direction of the greens, he resists the urge to scream like a girl or something and yell 'she's coming right at us!'. Distracted by Ancair's movement, he squawks ungainly for a moment as his robe takes a downward yank. All but crashing forward on his knees, there's no choice but to look dead on into whirling eyes and fate is sealed. "Pretty?" K'rian flushes but his hands come up gently touch the green's cheek. "No, you're the pretty one Kitsuneth!" Sucker.
From the Hatching Sands, The Weyrlingmaster sighs softly, glancing at the Weyrwoman with a long suffering look. "Well, I guess I'd better get started sorting out this new bunch." He says, stepping forward across the sands. "Weyrlings, over this way, please. Moriya, would you and Ceridwyth come this way? Solaris? Jahzarath is lovely. Piea, you and Korsanth need to follow me. And Kyrian...would have to Impress. I think it's his mother getting back at me for all those flight's Zyelth lost. K'rian, you and Kitsunueth, this way. And don't worry, tell your new lifemates that we'll be getting them food directly."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is immediately scampering away from Kyrian as he is captured! Oh My.... It can happen to anyone! Even idiot dimglows! He falls back a few more steps just to make sure he is well and away from them. He isn't sure whether to mock with laughter or not, mostly because he is rather stunned at this turn of events. "Heh." Weak.
From the Hatching Sands, "Yeth, thir!" Piea complies, raising her hand to her forehead in a salute. "We'll be right over... c'mon, Korthanth, you'll be able to get thomething to eat right now..." She caresses the blue's head, grinning stupidly still from the shock of it all. Korsanth flips his wings before following his lifemate in the direction of promised food.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya tears her eyes away from her Ceridwyth as she hears T'on's summons from across the Sands. Rising from her adoration of the little green, she gently strokes Ceridwyth's headknobs as the pair head off towards the Weyrlingmaster. To her chagrin, as she takes the first step, her stomach begins to rumble very loudly, in time with the inner churnings of her dragon's digestion. "Ooooo, I can feel that you're hungry," she says to the dragonet. "There's food over there, I promise."
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet stumbles forward awkwardly until the feeling solidifies. There. That one. Wait, what's with this weak, stunned attitude. Surely this isn't the one who compels him forward, the ray of hope that will warm his rather dismal existance. This boy. Surely he's not the one. Yet no matter how much he fights it, there's no mistaking that Ancair is indeed the one. Rather put out, the little bronze grabs the hem of his candidate's robe and riiiiiips.
From the Hatching Sands, "She is, isn't she?" Jahzarath doesn't need to remarks as she already overly confident as is but still, the young gold nudges Solaris insistently. "My dear, I know, and we'll take care of that immediately." A usually self-centered Solaris is suddenly very compliant and smiles broadly to the weyrlings about her as she ushers Jahzarath toward T'on.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya claps her hands. "Congratulations, weyrlings!" Those left on the sands are ushered toward the candidate barracks with a warm smile. "I want to thank you all for agreeing to Stand. You're all welcome to stay here at Benden should you wish to, but let's go get changed so that we can attend the feast!"
From the Hatching Sands, K'rian is reminded by mental advisement to yank down the back of his robe as he straightens up, smoothing the cloth in a distracted manner. "Yes, you're hungry. Of course, and thanks for the reminder." he murmurs to his dragon as the two of them follow the weyrlingmaster's instructions and move off to the side with the others. Glancing back at another round of cheering, he stifles laughter. "Congrats Ancair."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair was pretty sure he was gonna get out of this thing with all of his limbs intact and free as a bird or whatever. He was rather hoping on it, but when confronted with a certain dragon, the kid squeaks again, backs up a space as if to fend this thing off, only to hear his robe shred. Oh fardles.... "Seishitsuth...." Beat "I'm gonna need that piece of robe."
From the Hatching Sands, T'on sighs softly, "Figures both of them would Impress." The Weyrlingmaster can't wait to get started on this bunch, yep. "Ancair, congratulations. Would you and Seishitsuth please join us?"
F'ox walks in.
N'ico isn't far behind Tomi, though the timing is purely coincidental. With a cautious eye of Campeoth, the bronzerider is quick to catch up with his classmate and insistently gestures toward a few empty seats nearby. "Seems like we're all here to watch, aren't we Tomi."
From the Hatching Sands, The eggs have been in various states of rocking for some time, but show no signs of hatching just yet. Lyllya, already rushing to her dragon's side, looks around. "Well, it had to happen sometime, right? At least you'll be out of the cavern after this."
From the Hatching Sands, T'on rambles onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair wanders onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
M'dan mutters to himself, glancing at a number or copper rings tied to a leather thong on his belt. His attention is directed suddenly to the sands as he hears Lyllya's voice, though faintly. He watches as the candidates enter.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
Kaisha heads up to the viewing ledges.
"N'ic," the weyrwoman startles slightly before shooting her clutchmate a rueful grin. "Guess Campeoth has a feeling for these sort of things, too." Glancing towards the gestured seats, the teenager nods and settles quickly before adding nostalgicly, "This brings back memories, doesn't it? And yet, it's so odd to be just a spectator. I can-" whatever the blonde was going to say is suddenly interrupted as the candidates make their way out onto the Sands. "They're such a diverse bunch, aren't they? And look... is that Ancair, from our Weyr?!" Chuckling to herself, the goldrider unapologetically smirks. "Serves him right. He's nothing but a troublemaker."
From the Hatching Sands, Hroswitha walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Angharad walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Zasey walks onto the hot sands of the Hatching grounds.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris manages to restrain the urge to bolt across the stands to find the perfect spot and instead, the girl walks alongside several candidates as the emerge onto the hatching sands. As she approaches Mizuth and Lyllya, she affords both a graceful bow and as the eggs continue to shake, she breaks from the group and stands at the outer edge of the eggs.
"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching,
From the Hatching Sands, The eggs begin to rock in earnest, their dam settling to one side as she watches them and the candidates. "Well, but you can't expect much. They're candidates, dear, they get to wear something other than white once this is over," Lyllya points out. Leave it to her dragon to be all for a change in candidate appearance.
"He says that it is our duty to observe each and every hatching.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya walks on the Sands, dutifully following the Candidate in front of her. Remembering to bow to Mizuth, and making a graceful leg to the queen, she quickly fans out in the semi-circle, heading for the far wall, ending up next to Solaris at the outer edge of the eggs. The heat from the sands has already caused some perspiration to bead up on her forehead.
"He says it is our duty to observe each and every hatching," N'ico says with a brief glance toward his bronze, who thrums alongside the Weyr's dragons. "Otherwise we'd be at home doing drills."
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg rocks slowly, one way and then another. An epic battle drawing nigh as expectations rise. But then it settles and it's as if it never moved at all.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian follows the progression of Candidates out onto the Sands, hovering towards the tail end as far as he can manage without being completely left behind. Showing only a grimace at the heat under the soles of his sandals, he strolls in slowly but does not skimp on paying homage to the towering forms of the watching dragons. A bow to Mizuth in particular and then he's off to hide in the back of the throng of white clad bodies.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea steps out onto the Sands, smoothing her hands over her somewhat rumpled robe, tugging a fallen sleeve back up onto her shoulder. Looking around her nervously, she bobs in a tense bow to both clutchdam and sire, then to each of their riders, before finding her spot near to the eggs. She runs a hand through her messy hair, which is wet enough to suggest she's come straight from the baths, and waits, anxiously biting on her lip.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on stumps over to Lyllya, grimmacing slightly at the heat eminating from below. "Figures. Mizuth must talk to Kyrith too much for her eggs to be ready to hatch right as Kyrith and I were returning from between." He didn't even have time to change out of his riding leathers. So he's a little warm right now.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair follows the rest like a herd of herdbeasts. All he has to say now is 'mooooo' to make it all fit in. But follow he does, giving a bit of a flutter to his robe to get some air between skin and cloth. Suppose there is something good in wearing a robe. By rote, he gives a bow or somesuch to the gold, and then decides maybe he should go stand in the back. Best escape route direction. At a bump from another candidate, he turns to look at Kyrian, and smirks faintly. "Coward," he whispers harshly.
From the Hatching Sands, Birthday Cake Egg's top begins to crack, then simply slides off. There's a momentary pause, but then a bronzed head peeks through and the rest of the shell flakes away. It doesn't take much time for the stumbling dragonet to make his way toward a young man from Benden Hold. Unfortunately, he knocks the lad over and nearly sits on his lap. "Danceth! C'mon, get offa me!" And so it is that the first Impression is made.
From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Birthday Cake Egg.
Torikan sits, watching the hatching as his duty to the Weyr as one of it's beholden. He sits next to the Lord Holder of Lemos, and the two chat softly, pointing out both eggs and candidates to each other.
From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks, but wastes no time in preliminaries.
From the Hatching Sands, Baby Blanket Egg rocks ever so slightly, echoing its previous movements as if it were trying to roll out of the sandy impression that is its bed. Minute cracks form along the shell, giving it a fuzzy appearance that then begins to fall away. The progress is slow at first, then becomes a mighty *CRACK* that splits the shell in half, leaving behind a dragonet that seems to have been caught in the midst of his evening nap.
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Deepest cobalt coats the diminutive 'knobs and blunted wedge-shape of his head, the color interrupted only by a lining of charcoal that surrounds each slightly slanted eye. Spirals of near black trail along his neck, curling about each sloped 'ridge like mystical writing from some far off time, there and then gone again before they can be deciphered. Midnight unfolds along his flanks, where the scribe's hand is seen once again fading in and out of shadow until it is wiped away along the quiet gloaming of his under-belly. His wings appear just large enough to lift his form to the air, their veined expanse shading into sunrise aqua. His limbs are a stocky affair, each paw tipped in scimitar talons that find echo in the slightly curved tip of his ink stained tail.
Torikan adds, since the one egg was impatient and hatched before he finished, his voice raises a little bit as he exclaims to the Lemosian Lord: "Shells! A bronze! Tis a good omen for the Weyr!"
"Each and every one," Tomi raises a brow and then reaches over to offer the bronzerider a sympathetic pat. "Campeoth certainly takes his duties seriously. And with Zinia at Igen now, that's just one more Weyr you'll be visiting in the near future. After all, if my calculations are correct, Aevaleth should be due to rise soon." As should be another certain gold, but this little weyrwoman's deep in denial. "Oh look, bronze first. And a quick Impression too. That's got to bode well. And hmm... that blue. There's something a little effeminate about him, isn't there?"
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's expression brightens at the first impression, nudging a smaller candidate in the ribs to note, "You know what they say about bronze impressions being first." The rest of her chatter comes upon deaf ears as the other candidate is focused on the newly arrived blue and quickly, Solaris is as well. "He is lovely, isn't he," she mentions, shifting her weight to she is leaning more toward Moriya with the comment.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya claps her hands in delight as her fellow Benden Holder Impresses to the bronze occupant of the Birthday Cake Egg. "Good for you!" she calls, then focuses on the other eggs. Suddenly, a mighty crack heralds a gorgeous blue dragon. "He's just so, beautiful," she says in awed wonder. "I didn't know they were so beautiful when they Hatch." She aims this last remark towards Solaris, smiling in delight.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya grins at T'on. "Well, girls do tend to conspire. I'm sure that she waited until the last possible minute to let Kyrith know. How else to drag you in here in leathers?" She's amused by this, but then a bronze hatches, followed by blue. "Well, there you are. Looks like another interesting group of Weyrlings from the start."
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian knocks shoulders with Ancair and scowls at the other boy. "Oh really? What, you too busy oggling your impending doom to watch where you're walking?" he growls lowly, barely audible in the large cavern. The back of the crowd should have been far less occupied by this and so he casually reaches out and shoves the other boy further away from himself. His attention is then drawn to the first crack of the shells, making him start a little nervously, letting out a breath as the dragonet finds his victim quickly. "One down."
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers forward like a drunkard, knocking into one candidate only to pin-ball into another. A croon issues forth that seems somewhat slurred as he makes for the ladies. Ah, perfume. Or sweat. One way or the other, these ones are more pleasing to the eye.
The first impression brings a peculiar look to N'ico's otherwise stern features and like many riders, he glances toward his lifemate on the ledge nearby. Tomi's response lulls him back and with a shake of his shoulders, he quietly states, "Yes, Campeoth and I have already talked about that. Hopefully we can just keep to Fort." Although the bronze has other plans.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks at the blue. Then he looks back at Lyllya. "Mizuth is never allowed to clutch again." He says, before rubbing his face with one hand, starting to strip his jacket off with the other. "I'm going to go crazy. Maybe I should go down south with Sabria."
From the Hatching Sands, Piea squirms a bit at the hot sand squishing up through her toes. She seems totally absorbed in the fact that she is in the middle of this gigantic cavern, with all these people and eggs. Overwhelming situations call for drastic measures, so she stands where she is and just looks at everyone else.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya laughs out loud, forgetting the heat of the sands momentarily. "I'm sure that will put a stop to this mess altogether," she agrees, leaning against her lifemate who is watching the happenings with interest. "Go? Why, T'on, do you mean to imply that you're anything but?"
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair stutters a step to the side, only managing to catch himself on yet another candidate. Naturally, that rather plump gives Ancair quite the look, possibly something of a growl and shoves him right on back towards Kyrian. Mmmmmm, candidate pinballs. Temper, anyone? "The only thing I've oggled lately is that Telgar girl's ankles. Get off, will you? Stop crowding me, Kyrian." Push.
From the Hatching Sands, Pirate of the Caribbean Blue Dragonet staggers just a bit more, landing his nose right into the hem, then under, of Ancair's robe. Staggering back, he gives the most offended look possible for a dragonet before moving on. It's then that he spots it, a bastion of calm in the sea of heat and moving candidates. Or perhaps that's only his hazed perception. At any rate, he's definitely found that special person. Piea.
From the Hatching Sands, "I always thought they'd be...." Solaris throws her hands into the air, unable to come up with the right words, "But still, they are gorgeous, aren't they?" She looks to Moriya, quickly distracted by the blue that is headed toward Piea and as the impression occurs, a small squeal escapes the candidate: "Piea!"
From the Hatching Sands, Bronzed Shoes Egg begins to stir, the sound of cracks forming along its surface echoing through the hatching chamber like far off thunder. It shifts, tilting to the side at first, then begins to fall apart until that which was held captive within is freed.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, African moonlight dances to a silvered tribal beat along a slender, sylph-like spine, each supple curve hauntingly highlighted with the faint, hazy glow of white gold. Darkness engulfs sensitive paws, midnight tipping each lethal talon, before climbing higher up delicate limbs lightening until it blurs into a burnished, near bronze. Near-mocha accentuates the fey upward slant of her eyes and the exotic curve of her teacup muzzle. Sea-soaked golden sand mottles her prideful chest and vulnerable underbelly, varying little as it dapples over the vast expanse of fragile sails.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't help but grin as the little blue swaggers around the Sands, bumping into the candidates. "Y'know, I get the feeling he's doing that on /purpose/," she remarks to Solaris, wiping absently at the beaded sweat on her brow. "Don't you?" She shifts slightly, the first indication that her feet are beginning to get overheated on the hot Sands, then sucks in her breath as the blue Impresses. "PIEA!"
Arching her brow some more, Tomi casts a speculative glance towards her clutchmate. "You've talked about these things, have you?" One of their previous conversations echoes hauntingly inside her head as she asks, "Just this side of graduation and you're already plotting world conquest, huh?" Smirking, she turns back to the eggs on the Sands and adds under her breath, "Still, if you're planning on waiting for Fort's next flight, you could find yourself waiting a very, very, very long time." Or so she hopes. Haseth's not yet two. She's got at least four months of freedom before her.
From the Hatching Sands, Piea stands stock still, with an expression of complete shock on her face. "What did you thay?" She looks around then down, her blue eyes meeting those of the blue dragonet, before she bursts into tears of happiness and crouches down to throw her arms around her new lifemate's neck. "Oh. Oh I oh, Korsanth!" Through happy sniffles and tear-wiping, she manages to speak the dragon's name once more, so that the rest of the people gathered around can hear. "My lifemate's name is Korsanth!"
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian hisses quietly, an eye flicking towards the weyrleaders before shoving Ancair back and nearly into the passing blue. "You can have all the room you want up there! Go on closer, no one says you gotta hover back here, git off!" As the dragonet then acquaints himself with Piea, he lets out a relieved breath and manages a cheer for the girl's 'good' fortune.
From the Hatching Sands, Pretty My Little Pony Egg moves ever so slightly, making the ponies dance. After all, what are little ponies if not playful.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can scarcely tear her eyes away from Piea's Impression, but she does at last, in time to see the little gold Hatch. "Solaris, look at that lovely gold!" she says, her eyes widening. "I'd say she'll be one who knows what she wants, don't you think?" One of her favourite eggs moves, and she keeps watch on it out of the corner of her eye while she watches to see which way the gold is going to go.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet comes forth from her egg nearly standing, her wings outstretched to give them the best opportunity to be seen and to dry. The candidates are looked over with near disdain, but she moves forward to inspect them all. This one? No. That one? Maybe. Up her nose goes as she approaches near where Kyrian stands, shoving her head under the hem of his robe and whuffling. A boy! Stepping back with an offended whuff, she tips her head for all the world as if she were putting her nose in the air and then stumbles off.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris, though she tries not to, gasps as the gold emerges. Stubbornly, she remains in place, shifting only slightly onto her toes as the heat begins to penetrate through her thick-soled sandals. Her eyes dance toward the remaining shards of her favored egg, though it doesn't take long for her attention to go toward Piea as she proudly announces her dragon's name. "Korsanth, Piea!!!" Hands clasp together before her chest and her eyes warily drift to Moriya. "She is, isn't she, I never imagined them to look like tht."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is stumbling once more as he is shoved. He really needs a few more turns on him to be able to hold his own against the older candidate. He nearly falls to a knee, but instead grabs right onto Kyrian's wrist to try to hold himself up. "I'm not going up there! You go up there." So lame. He flickers a glance to the recent impressions, and smirks. And when that gold goes Kyrian sniffing, the boy bursts into laughter. "Not much up there, huh?"
From the Hatching Sands, Back Yard Egg bursts into life, then simply bursts. A plump brown nearly rolls out of the shell and then into a boy from Beastcraft. "Rolth? Get up, you're gonna... wait. His name is Rolth!" B'hal embraces his lifemate, egg goo and all, forgetting the heat under his sandals.
From the Hatching Sands, There is a time when the flights of fancy that young girls possess must fade away into the dust of time, toys of childhood placed on shelves, taken out again with fondness after years pass. But then again, sometimes little sisters break said toys. In this case, the Pretty My Little Pony Egg seems to take a deep, shuttering breath, then cracks and crumples to the ground, revealing....
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Regal curves and elfish grace form sleek lines along verdant hide, creating an image of speed and immortal power. Evergreen fades to smoky quartz at the tip of each neckridge, their gently sloping form drooping ever so slightly as if expressing some hidden sorrow. Her features lose none of their draconic grace for all that they are reduced into pixie-like appearance--Her torso is long, giving her a somewhat waifish appearance that takes nothing away from her fairy tale splendor. Her wings are voluminous, held with ethereal beauty, wan sails dappled with gold like sunlight through leaves that create shifting patterns of dancing light between dark green spars. Limbs that speak of hidden strength have been coated in brilliant emerald, each chalcedony tipped talon echoed by the be-jeweled tip of her ever so slender tail.
From the Hatching Sands, Melissa picks up Back Yard Egg.
"Of course we've talked about these things, don't you and Haseth discuss things..." N'ico stops mid-sentence and eyes Tomi, "Nevermind, sometimes I forget that not everyone is as.... /obsessed/ as Campeoth is." Obsessed is putting it nicely, really. Bronzerider looks to the sands as the impressions continue, nodding approval before looking to Tomi. "Thing is... are you ready for this?" He gestures toward the sands below and smirks.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian turns from his little disagreement with the other candidate just in time to get a crotch full of gold dragonet. "Hey! No looking! Shells! Not for you! Git!" The sudden embarrassed flush that flashes over his face counters the rough stammering words, but it turns to the red of anger at his neighbor's laughter. "I have nothing to hide! (anymore) Maybe you're the one who's got something to prove." With that, he reaches over and flicks up the hem of Ancair's robe in retaliation.
From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the Evening Egg begins to rock, fissures forming into cracks along its dark surface. Bits of shell begin to flake away, but nothing is yet revealed.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya stops in her tracks, the gold dragon completely forgotten as a little green emerges from the pretty egg. "Oh!" is all that comes out of her mouth, for she stands stock still, the heat from the Sands seeping unchecked into the sole of her sandal.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris's eyes widen in horror. "Did she just? She did not?" She nudges Moriya insistently, pointing toward Kyrian as the gold brushes out from beneath his robe. "I didn't know they did that either..." It would seem that today is full of new discoveries and though she drops both hands to her sides, a look of pure disbelief still remains on the girl's face.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is rather busily laughing at Kyrian's distress and embarrassment, because... well, it isn't him! He sniggers, and abruptly the world goes white before his eyes, and things get drafty down below. While that is delightfully comfortable, but also leaving him frontal and back flashing the entire cavern. The boy literally squeaks before pushing his robe back down. Bright red in the fact, he immediately turns to try to shove Kyrian as hard as he can. "Fardling dimglow!"
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet moves on with as much dignity as she can muster. Each girl is looked at and then passed by, though one is raked by an inexperienced talon as the young gold shoves the girl aside. Healers move to the fore to take the unfortunate away, but still the dragonet moves on. This one? No. That one? Shiny, but no.
From the Hatching Sands, T'on looks over the sands, grinning as Kyrian is...put on display. But then Ancair's antics come to his attention, and the Weyrlingmaster starts to growl. "If they Impress I'm going to have no end of peace." He says, glancing first at Lyllya. "And Arial's son or not, if those two don't knock it off, I'm throwing them both off the sands."
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya turns her gaze toward the bickering candidates, her expression becoming stern. "Give them until they start to put themselves or others in danger. If that happens, toss them into the candidate barracks and they'll be on drudge duty." The last words are said loudly. "For life." Beam.
"Of course Haseth and I discuss things," Tomi refutes quickly, perhaps a tad too quickly to be absolute truth. "It's just... well-" Whatever she was going to say is interrupted by the gold dragonet hatching and her subsequent antics. "Oi, Benden's going to have their hands full with that one," she predicts before turning her attention back to the rider beside her. "Ready for... " Blink. Blink. Flush. "Of course we're ready," she replies hotly, though a telltale flush colors her pale cheeks. "After all, Haseth's gold. This is what she's born to do." Or so she tells herself time and time again. Doesn't mean that she's not in denial about exactly /when/ Haseth will add her progeny to Fort. "Look at those two," she quickly changes the subject, pointing towards the shoving candidates. "D'you think that's just nerves or-" Cut short, Tomi can just flush as she ends up seeing far much more of Ancair than she bargained for.
From the Hatching Sands, "They should really just get out of her way," Solaris imperiously states, "Then they wouldn't get hurt like that." Though clearly inexperienced with hatching etiquette, she stares toward both Kyrian and Ancair, unable to cover the chuckle that spills from her lips though she stops the minute T'on speaks, accentuated by Lyllya's statement. With an almost guilty look, her gaze returns to the hatchlings upon the sands, nervously tugging at the hem of her robe from time to time.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet steps away from the shards of her former home, turning her graceful neck for a moment and sniffing sadly at the wreckage. It had been such a pretty place to live, but now it is no more. And so she turns back to the array of white before her. She must choose, she knows, but before she gives her heart and her pledge for life, she would like to make sure she can trust the one who she'd give up immortality for.
From the Hatching Sands, African Goddess of Storms Gold Dragonet pauses as her sentiments are echoed in a voice, though she can't really understand the words just yet. A demanding creel as well as a tug that adds to the hands already upon the hem of the white robe is sent upward. Hello? Yes. She's down here. Within seconds, another paw reaches up as if to steal Solaris for her own, which is just what she intends.
From the Hatching Sands, Fireflies in the evening egg begins to shake to a rhythm of its own before toppling over onto its side. A moment of stillness precedes a loud crack that splits the egg in half. It's then that the shell falls away to reveal a dragonet that looks for all the world as if the act of hatching has interrupted a nap.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Blood red springs betwixt pert 'knobs before curling softly along the base of her delicate skull and sweeping downward to tease the base of her elegantly curved neck. Each expressive eye is limned with this vibrant color, the unique shadow resting coquettishly beneath dainty eyeridges. Fairy-dusted emerald supplies the shimmering backdrop of the masterpiece that is this green, from the delicate lines of her elongated neck to the length of her slender torso and tail, both coated in moon-touched verdancy that only deepens as it trails down her limbs and becomes near-black upon each curved talon. Wings and 'sails take on the appearance of dew drenched spinner's webs, catching and reflecting the slightest light in a rainbow of hues only to be tempered by the presence of each 'spar.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya glances away from where the green dragonet just Hatched, glancing towards Kyrian and Ancair for a moment - not quickly enough, mind, to view the offending, er, well, anyway, and she just shakes her head. "Does this happen at every Hatching?" she wonders softly, subtly pulling her own robe in so that a crucial fold is tucked between her knees. As the queen arrives, and picks Solaris, there is no doubt and she claps her hands for her friend. "Bravo, Solaris!" Turning back to the sands, she gasps as another of her favourite eggs splits in half to reveal another lovely green dragonet. "Oh!" she says, again transfixed.
From the Hatching Sands, The sands, candidates, and hatchlings all seem to disappear as the small gold approaches Solaris and with an astonished gaze, the girl drop to her knees to cradle the gold's small wedged head. "Yes, I know you, Jahzarath. I know you very well." A moment of recognition hits her as she blinks to those around her and repeats the name in amazement, "Jahzarath!"
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian only has a moment to stare and snicker himself. "In a hurry were ya, Ancair? Forgot to put something on under the robe? Ha-hey!" He staggers and almost falls over his own feet. "Git over yerself wherry legs!" he snorts, rushing back to elbow the other boy in the side. "You're going to get us thrown out." Oh wait, wasn't that the plan in the first place? Maybe he should have just sucker punched Ancair instead. However he'd like to avoid that whole drudging for life bit. "Just stay away from me. Go watch the gold or something. Supposed to be a momentous time or something." But really, it's hard to concentrate on all the dragonets wandering by when you get shoved around a lot. "Oops, too late. Congratulations Solaris!"
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair immediately puts on his best innocent look. All wide eyes, deliberate deepening of his single dimple, and hands at his sides. Look, the very picture of a perfect candidate. Or something. He turns those big eyes upon T'on, and then Lyllya. But in the next breath he is rolling his eyes at Kyrian, and hopefully under the cover of the other candidates, jabs a finger out to poke Kyrian in the side. You know, just to do it. "Yeah, congrats, he adds rather slowly afterwards after prompting. If you can call getting saddled with a dragon good.
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg still slumbers in the dark emptiness of space, biding its time until the critical moment appears.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is suddenly freed, too bad she's not more graceful. Then again, she just woke up, give her a few minutes to get it together. Those minutes, unfortunately, are spent curled up in the remains of her shell as if he weren't yet ready to get out of bed. That near nap is interrupted by a wake up call from her dam and, with sluggish movements, the green begins to search out the ranks of candidates.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet moves with uncommon grace towards the sea of white, trying to, for the moment, figure out where the faces begin and the cloth parts end. But she first stops at a young man, hiding his face in his hands, terrified that something Awful is about to happen to him. She pokes at him with her tiny, delicate snout, but then moves on, seeking her partner for life.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya can't decide which of the two green dragonets to follow, so she swivels her head from one to the other, obviously intrigued by the movements of the little ones. No longer rooted to the Sands, she shifts from foot to foot, back and forth, swaying almost hypnotically as she seeks to lessen the burning in her feet. "C'mon, little greens, find your lifemates," she chants under her breath, eager to see who is chosen this time.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian has settled down as well, at least keeping to the occasional poke and sandal kick whenever people's attentions are drawn to the antics of the young dragons instead of the two idiot boys in the back. At the very worst, they'll just be rather bruised by then of the evening. "Huh, get a load of that green, still tucked in like she doesn't even know to get going." He shakes his head and has to look bemused at the terror from another boy candidate. He's got the right idea.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet stops long enough to stretch, but just when it looks like her head might follow the actions of some of her clutch sibs and go under a hem, she stops to yawn. Watch out for those delicates. The movements from the back catch her eye and she toddles back to see what all of the fuss is about. There's trouble, and perhaps she's drawn to it, but then that sand kicking seems interesting. It is, therefore, with a few kicks of her back legs to send more sand onto other candidates that she heads off to the fussing boys.
From the Hatching Sands, Elven Princess Green Dragonet stops at one particular candidate, one who seems to be watching both her and her sister. It is not that this candidate is praying desperately to be the one selected, no, it's that this candidate is so filled with concern for the two dragonets, she wants them to pick soon. Which, for the Elven Princess, is just, true, and fair, to be concerned with others before yourself, to be a king, or in this case, queen, among her own kind, if not dragon kind. And so it is that she croons softly and presses her nose gently against Moriya's chest. She has chosen her lifemate.
From the Hatching Sands, More Than Meets The Eye Egg suddenly shivers with renewed vigor, a surprise attack on the opposition.
From the Hatching Sands, Solaris stands as the sand's overwhelming heat begins to sink in and even the thick cloth of her robe can protect her so much. "Yes, you do need something to eat, don't you Jahzarath?" Excitement tints her voice as she says the name and drapes her arm across the gold's neck, guiding her toward the many bowls of food prepared for the newly impressed. As she walks away, she looks over her shoulder, keeping a careful eye on the two greens upon the sands, pausing to watch as one moves toward Moriya and impresses. "Moriya!!"
From the Hatching Sands, An age-old conflict comes to a head as crimson and azure seems to brighten and then explode as both sides collide in the final battle. A supernova explosion rocks it, shards exploding to finally reveal the dragonet that was nestled within its core. A cherished new life and yet there seems to be something not quite right with him.
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet
From the Hatching Sands, Burnt umber sinks into deeper midnight shadows, the true brilliance of this hulking dragon lost amidst the veiling darkness of gloomy fog-enshrouded sails that conceal his grotesque form. Smoky bronze shoulders sit solidly below a startlingly hunched spine almost deformed in its severity, each vertebrae ruthlessly delineated by the wicked slash of mottled ridges. Lighter copper slashes violently across a blunted muzzle that lacks any form of beauty before falling into the shadows of overly exaggerated eyeridges that jealously guard the expressive orbs hidden within their mysterious depths.
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair darts a wary glance around the area, having completely forgotten that... you know... there are dragonets around here, and they are doing this thing called Impressing. He warily eyes the greens, and then flickers a glance to Kyrian. Shuffle. He gives a good kick to the sand to the other teen, and then tries to maneuver behind him. "She's lookin' at you." Warily.
From the Hatching Sands, Spirit of the Fox Green Dragonet is, indeed, looking at Kyrian. In fact, she gives a near insulted cry at the sand being kicked in his direction. As if on a mission to rescue the young man, she reaches out to tug at his robe and bring him closer, crooning with joy. Of course, by tugging on the front of his robe, there's a good chance that the back might just slide up, but who'd be paying attention to such things when an impression is going on? For she has claimed Kyrian as her own.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya feels the loving touch of the little green, and before she has a chance to think, she is on her knees doing homage to her own beautiful lifemate, hands moving to caress the dragonet as if they have been doing so all of her life. "Oh, Ceridwyth you /have /found me," she says, tears slipping from her dark eyes unheeded, "Is it really you?" For the former holder girl now turned weyrling cannot quite believe that she is linked for now and for ever with the dainty green dragon.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya pokes at T'on's arm to get his attention. "Last one. You ready for this?" Is that mocking in her voice? Oh, no. Of course not! She's the picture of niceness and innocence. Yep.
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet unfolds from his cramped confines and growls roughly, rather irate with the entire hatching process. His frustration is taken out on a nearby cluster of candidates whom he bowls over with nary a second thought. Bowling for candidates, what fun! And yet, there's an imperceptible feeling that draws him towards another gaggle of white. Not sure what calls to him, what bewitches him so, he markedly limps forward, each movement excruciatingly painful to watch.
From the Hatching Sands, Kyrian grimaces as he gets a bit of sand in his eye, which is plenty enough as he reaches up to rub it out. Looking in the direction of the greens, he resists the urge to scream like a girl or something and yell 'she's coming right at us!'. Distracted by Ancair's movement, he squawks ungainly for a moment as his robe takes a downward yank. All but crashing forward on his knees, there's no choice but to look dead on into whirling eyes and fate is sealed. "Pretty?" K'rian flushes but his hands come up gently touch the green's cheek. "No, you're the pretty one Kitsuneth!" Sucker.
From the Hatching Sands, The Weyrlingmaster sighs softly, glancing at the Weyrwoman with a long suffering look. "Well, I guess I'd better get started sorting out this new bunch." He says, stepping forward across the sands. "Weyrlings, over this way, please. Moriya, would you and Ceridwyth come this way? Solaris? Jahzarath is lovely. Piea, you and Korsanth need to follow me. And Kyrian...would have to Impress. I think it's his mother getting back at me for all those flight's Zyelth lost. K'rian, you and Kitsunueth, this way. And don't worry, tell your new lifemates that we'll be getting them food directly."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair is immediately scampering away from Kyrian as he is captured! Oh My.... It can happen to anyone! Even idiot dimglows! He falls back a few more steps just to make sure he is well and away from them. He isn't sure whether to mock with laughter or not, mostly because he is rather stunned at this turn of events. "Heh." Weak.
From the Hatching Sands, "Yeth, thir!" Piea complies, raising her hand to her forehead in a salute. "We'll be right over... c'mon, Korthanth, you'll be able to get thomething to eat right now..." She caresses the blue's head, grinning stupidly still from the shock of it all. Korsanth flips his wings before following his lifemate in the direction of promised food.
From the Hatching Sands, Moriya tears her eyes away from her Ceridwyth as she hears T'on's summons from across the Sands. Rising from her adoration of the little green, she gently strokes Ceridwyth's headknobs as the pair head off towards the Weyrlingmaster. To her chagrin, as she takes the first step, her stomach begins to rumble very loudly, in time with the inner churnings of her dragon's digestion. "Ooooo, I can feel that you're hungry," she says to the dragonet. "There's food over there, I promise."
From the Hatching Sands, Ravages of the Beast Bronze Dragonet stumbles forward awkwardly until the feeling solidifies. There. That one. Wait, what's with this weak, stunned attitude. Surely this isn't the one who compels him forward, the ray of hope that will warm his rather dismal existance. This boy. Surely he's not the one. Yet no matter how much he fights it, there's no mistaking that Ancair is indeed the one. Rather put out, the little bronze grabs the hem of his candidate's robe and riiiiiips.
From the Hatching Sands, "She is, isn't she?" Jahzarath doesn't need to remarks as she already overly confident as is but still, the young gold nudges Solaris insistently. "My dear, I know, and we'll take care of that immediately." A usually self-centered Solaris is suddenly very compliant and smiles broadly to the weyrlings about her as she ushers Jahzarath toward T'on.
From the Hatching Sands, Lyllya claps her hands. "Congratulations, weyrlings!" Those left on the sands are ushered toward the candidate barracks with a warm smile. "I want to thank you all for agreeing to Stand. You're all welcome to stay here at Benden should you wish to, but let's go get changed so that we can attend the feast!"
From the Hatching Sands, K'rian is reminded by mental advisement to yank down the back of his robe as he straightens up, smoothing the cloth in a distracted manner. "Yes, you're hungry. Of course, and thanks for the reminder." he murmurs to his dragon as the two of them follow the weyrlingmaster's instructions and move off to the side with the others. Glancing back at another round of cheering, he stifles laughter. "Congrats Ancair."
From the Hatching Sands, Ancair was pretty sure he was gonna get out of this thing with all of his limbs intact and free as a bird or whatever. He was rather hoping on it, but when confronted with a certain dragon, the kid squeaks again, backs up a space as if to fend this thing off, only to hear his robe shred. Oh fardles.... "Seishitsuth...." Beat "I'm gonna need that piece of robe."
From the Hatching Sands, T'on sighs softly, "Figures both of them would Impress." The Weyrlingmaster can't wait to get started on this bunch, yep. "Ancair, congratulations. Would you and Seishitsuth please join us?"
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Pre-hatching OOC
**Note that all of the 'you say's are from Lyllya.
[DragonBait] Kyrian: So a loincloth 'robe' is out right?
[DragonBait] Moriya wolf whistles. ;> Hubba hubba.
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Right. If the dragons want to see it, they'll rip off your robe themselves. >.>
[DragonBait] Kyrian: But it's hot out there... ;)
[DragonBait] Arial envisions much ripping... wait, what rating is this MOO again? >.>;;
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Same as the books. n.~
[DragonBait] T'on: So B?
[DragonBait] Lyllya: XD
[DragonBait] T'on: Like B movie. XD
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Well. When it involves T'on and Arial, yes.
[DragonBait] Moriya giggles.
[DragonBait] Arial: Hey! Never link my name with T'on's again. I feel so unclean. T.T
[DragonBait] T'on: Hehee. You're just trying to hide Zyelth's longing for Kyrith
[DragonBait] Arial: .. uh yeah, that's it. >.>
[DragonBait] Kyrian: If I end up with another sibling, I'm definitely running away from home.
[DragonBait] T'on: If I end up with another child, Sabria will kill me. >.>
Lyllya turns on the OOC. "Ok. Robes. You're going to need to have them on before you go to the sands. If you're going to have someone puppet you, then have it on before you log off so that they'll log on with it in place. Also, no firelizards or objects may be on your person. These are all basics, yes, but you'd be surprised at how many people have been surprised to find out they can't take their firelizard out there with them.
[DragonBait] Arial: ... considering I'm 58, I think that's highly unlikely. >.>
[DragonBait] T'on: Suddenly I feel so young
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Ok. Stop that. ...you're making my head hurt. ;_;
[DragonBait] T'on: When did I get to be early 50's?
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Haha, you're old.
[DragonBait] T'on: Two weeks ago, apparently.
[DragonBait] Arial: Young my ass!
[DragonBait] T'on: I'm 50
[DragonBait] Kyrian: I'm over 18 now.
[DragonBait] Arial: ... you're legal and still untouched. So sad. Such a waste. >.<
[DragonBait] Kyrian: There's nothing wrong... >.>
You say, "In the event that your character does not impress, please return to the barracks where a member of 'Co will meet you. You may ask for the reasons behind your not impressing, but please do not demand answers on the spot. Instead, @send *bs with your question and all of SearchCo will respond to you. You may ask for minor clarifications to whatever answer you receive, but constantly asking for clarifications of clarifications isn't acceptable. Now, that said, questions?"
Moriya listens and nods. :) No worries, gosh, I can't recall how many 'Co's I've been a part of, and that's always the worst thing. :P
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Psst? Ari? Maybe traumatizing him with anything in the Weyr with a pulse wasn't the best approach. >.>
[DragonBait] Arial: I don't traumatize... I encourage. >.>;;
[DragonBait] Kyrian: ...
Zasey says, "No questions here."
Kyrian says, "No attempting suicide by throwing myself off the galleries... unless it's to get away from Arial."
You say, "The basic thing to remember is that throwing a fit or blowing up at 'co doesn't earn you any points if you wish to apply your character to Search again. Even if you go to another Weyr, chances are that the people who served on this 'co will be helping on that one. We're still a small game with a low population, so people tend to double up on their responsibilities. Except for Ari, who's too busy throwing her son at people. *ducks* "
[DragonBait] T'on: Ari, I can't remember, you're not a AWLM, right? >.>
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Well, she could be. >.>
Isa says, "... There's no getting away from your mother!"
Kyrian hides under his cot.
[DragonBait] Arial: I used to be... then I got smart.
[DragonBait] Arial: And oh no, I'm far too old to be an ALWM >.>
[DragonBait] T'on: Good. I don't want you near children. :)
[DragonBait] Kyrian: Is that what they're calling it now? I just thought the term was 'senile'.
[DragonBait] Arial: Don't make me come down there to 'help' you with your robe, Kyrian. -.-
[DragonBait] Kyrian: That's just wrong.
You say, "Oh, and one more thing I wanted to point out. This has come up in past searches that I've been involved with across many games: SearchCo will NOT give out information about the color choices of other Candidates, nor will we give out any other information which that candidate has given us in confidence (This includes, but is not limited to, the information on the candidate questionnaire). We will also not answer questions about why another candidate did not impress or why we impressed another candidate to a particular color or at all. The ONLY information we will share with you is information about your character and our choices in regards to your character. Anyone who persists in asking for information in regards to other players/characters will receive an @guide warning. Once that warning is given and if the player persists, I will simply siteban them from the game for a period of a month. "
T'on says, "As an additional to that, it probably should be noted that all SearchCo mails and so forth are deleted after each Search. Savvy?"
You say, "So, now that all that's been said, any questions? "
[DragonBait] Lyllya: You should come down to help with robes, anyway. >.>
Moriya shakes her head. :) Nope.
Kyrian says, "I think I'm cool. Cept where I haven't actually written a robe desc, but I will."
You say, "Ok, before I offer RP, there's only one more thing on the list. If your character does not impress, please don't badger the players of those characters that do. The staff won't even bother with a guide warning in this case. You'll get one page to stop and, after that, will just be sitebanned from the game for a week. Any player who is comes back and persists in badgering the Weyrlings will be permanently sitebanned until such time as I go through and clear the siteban list again (Usually once an RL year or so). "
You say, "Kyr's gonna go onto the sands in nothing but his unders and a pair of sandals."
T'on says, "I hope he doesn't oft go commando"
Lyllya falls over.
Kyrian says, "Would you go commando if Arial was your mom?"
You say, "AWOL, maybe."
T'on says, "No. I'd join a monastary"
Lyllya adopts T'on out to Arial.
Moriya blinks. Does visiting count as badgering - like, once they can leave the barracks, could I hang out with them then? (I assume we'd not be allowed to visit the barracks, obviously.)
Kyrian says, "I think she means, don't page stuff like "Why did you impress and I didn't?! You suck!!!" etc. ;)"
T'on says, "After one real life week, Moriya."
Moriya giggles. :) Ahhhh, thanks.
T'on says, "We ask that they receive no IC visitors during that period. Helps to cement the bond between rider and dragon"
Moriya nodnods.
You say, "No, no one but the Weyrlings and the WLM staff may be in the barracks. You can have visitors in the training field and you may, as soon as you impress (When your dragon isn't demanding your attention) the LC for meals. This is a busy Weyr, the kitchens don't have time to supply the lounge with more than klah and quick snacks for those on the go. The week of confinement that most games have doesn't exist here."
You say, "However, if someone comes in just to the weyrlings a hard time, or to cause trouble, they'll be escorted out of the area and dealt with in a manner befitting the disruption. If it's OOC griefing, then we bypass guide warning and just ban them for a while. "
Moriya understands.
You say, "If it's IC... Let's put it this way: ICA=ICC. OOCA=OOCC. That's just the way it is."
T'on says, "Bah. Just listen to Lyllya. Id forgotten that we'd changed that rule. Mainly because it's been awhile since I've been required to be truly active as WLM"
Moriya personally loves being a WLM. :> Fun! :D
T'on does too. Else I'd've tried to foist the job off on anyone.
T'on says, "I'm not picky."
You say, "But, as T'on says, the first week is spent mainly in focus on your dragon. You're not going to be taking long walks on the beach with M'right or anything. Your life is rushed. Basically you're tending to a huge newborn. "
T'on says, "One who is often cranky, hungry, and prone to hurt themselves."
T'on says, "And I'm just talking about the Weyrlingmaster. >.>"
You say, "After that you've got a toddler in boot camp. You're not exactly going to be a social butterfly. "
Moriya imagines it is very much like caring for a human child (with obvious differences) - demanding your time constantly, making sure that you get very little sleep, etc. etc. ;>
T'on says, "Sort of, Moriya. With two major differences"
Lyllya nods. "Yep, the difference being that this one cries in your head, doesn't wear diapers, and poos way more than any kid you've ever met.
T'on says, "Well, five really"
T'on says, "This one breathes fire and can fly."
Moriya grins! You should've seen my last one. :>
Lyllya XD
You say, "As for the hatching itself: Unlike Fort, Benden is a new (in terms of being built since our move) Weyr. There's bound to be a few bugs here and there, because this is our first hatching. Bubba and I have worked out as many bugs as we could come up with circumstances for, but we're human (Shut up, T'on. Arial) and it's inevitable that we've missed something. In the event that something does go wrong, just play along as we take care of it. Bubba's a good coder and can think on his ...well... in his computer chair. We'll get it fixed. I also need to rearrange the order of some of the lessons, but the first month stuff is up to date. "
T'on says, "What? Where?"
Moriya recalls a Hatching she ran years ago - an egg supposedly hatched, but you couldn't see the desc, so folks were playing as if the hatchling had poked its' head, paws and tail out of the egg through holes...it was /hilarious/.
Zasey grins.
You say, "Oh yes, and as far as Weyrlinghood goes: Dragons now age at the same rate people do. This extends the OOC period of Weyrlinghood, but offers more of a chance for you to get to play out that Weyrlinghood. Since the lessons are for RP and you get increasing amounts of freedom/privileges as time progresses, there will be plenty of things to do. Benden has an active AWLM as well as assistants and others willing to pitch in and help. "
T'on steals the A out of WLM and makes it an acive WLM. >.>
You say, "Er.. yeah. I don't have my glasses on. >_>"
Moriya wonders if that A is crimson...
You say, "Actually, it's all we got to paint of 'Aaaaah! Run!'."
Moriya grins. That's what it says: AAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH...
You say, "Ok, any questions? And, really, I am done spamming general info at you (I also need to step AFK for a few seconds, but ask away)."
Moriya nopers. ;)
Zasey blinks. AAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH WLM?
T'on says, "Reference to Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail."
Zasey grins. I love that movie.
You say, "Ok, with that, I can offer some 'we're getting close to the end' RP. n.n"
T'on says, "As can I"
Zasey holds up a sign reading 'The End is Near!'.
[DragonBait] Kyrian: So a loincloth 'robe' is out right?
[DragonBait] Moriya wolf whistles. ;> Hubba hubba.
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Right. If the dragons want to see it, they'll rip off your robe themselves. >.>
[DragonBait] Kyrian: But it's hot out there... ;)
[DragonBait] Arial envisions much ripping... wait, what rating is this MOO again? >.>;;
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Same as the books. n.~
[DragonBait] T'on: So B?
[DragonBait] Lyllya: XD
[DragonBait] T'on: Like B movie. XD
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Well. When it involves T'on and Arial, yes.
[DragonBait] Moriya giggles.
[DragonBait] Arial: Hey! Never link my name with T'on's again. I feel so unclean. T.T
[DragonBait] T'on: Hehee. You're just trying to hide Zyelth's longing for Kyrith
[DragonBait] Arial: .. uh yeah, that's it. >.>
[DragonBait] Kyrian: If I end up with another sibling, I'm definitely running away from home.
[DragonBait] T'on: If I end up with another child, Sabria will kill me. >.>
Lyllya turns on the OOC. "Ok. Robes. You're going to need to have them on before you go to the sands. If you're going to have someone puppet you, then have it on before you log off so that they'll log on with it in place. Also, no firelizards or objects may be on your person. These are all basics, yes, but you'd be surprised at how many people have been surprised to find out they can't take their firelizard out there with them.
[DragonBait] Arial: ... considering I'm 58, I think that's highly unlikely. >.>
[DragonBait] T'on: Suddenly I feel so young
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Ok. Stop that. ...you're making my head hurt. ;_;
[DragonBait] T'on: When did I get to be early 50's?
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Haha, you're old.
[DragonBait] T'on: Two weeks ago, apparently.
[DragonBait] Arial: Young my ass!
[DragonBait] T'on: I'm 50
[DragonBait] Kyrian: I'm over 18 now.
[DragonBait] Arial: ... you're legal and still untouched. So sad. Such a waste. >.<
[DragonBait] Kyrian: There's nothing wrong... >.>
You say, "In the event that your character does not impress, please return to the barracks where a member of 'Co will meet you. You may ask for the reasons behind your not impressing, but please do not demand answers on the spot. Instead, @send *bs with your question and all of SearchCo will respond to you. You may ask for minor clarifications to whatever answer you receive, but constantly asking for clarifications of clarifications isn't acceptable. Now, that said, questions?"
Moriya listens and nods. :) No worries, gosh, I can't recall how many 'Co's I've been a part of, and that's always the worst thing. :P
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Psst? Ari? Maybe traumatizing him with anything in the Weyr with a pulse wasn't the best approach. >.>
[DragonBait] Arial: I don't traumatize... I encourage. >.>;;
[DragonBait] Kyrian: ...
Zasey says, "No questions here."
Kyrian says, "No attempting suicide by throwing myself off the galleries... unless it's to get away from Arial."
You say, "The basic thing to remember is that throwing a fit or blowing up at 'co doesn't earn you any points if you wish to apply your character to Search again. Even if you go to another Weyr, chances are that the people who served on this 'co will be helping on that one. We're still a small game with a low population, so people tend to double up on their responsibilities. Except for Ari, who's too busy throwing her son at people. *ducks* "
[DragonBait] T'on: Ari, I can't remember, you're not a AWLM, right? >.>
[DragonBait] Lyllya: Well, she could be. >.>
Isa says, "... There's no getting away from your mother!"
Kyrian hides under his cot.
[DragonBait] Arial: I used to be... then I got smart.
[DragonBait] Arial: And oh no, I'm far too old to be an ALWM >.>
[DragonBait] T'on: Good. I don't want you near children. :)
[DragonBait] Kyrian: Is that what they're calling it now? I just thought the term was 'senile'.
[DragonBait] Arial: Don't make me come down there to 'help' you with your robe, Kyrian. -.-
[DragonBait] Kyrian: That's just wrong.
You say, "Oh, and one more thing I wanted to point out. This has come up in past searches that I've been involved with across many games: SearchCo will NOT give out information about the color choices of other Candidates, nor will we give out any other information which that candidate has given us in confidence (This includes, but is not limited to, the information on the candidate questionnaire). We will also not answer questions about why another candidate did not impress or why we impressed another candidate to a particular color or at all. The ONLY information we will share with you is information about your character and our choices in regards to your character. Anyone who persists in asking for information in regards to other players/characters will receive an @guide warning. Once that warning is given and if the player persists, I will simply siteban them from the game for a period of a month. "
T'on says, "As an additional to that, it probably should be noted that all SearchCo mails and so forth are deleted after each Search. Savvy?"
You say, "So, now that all that's been said, any questions? "
[DragonBait] Lyllya: You should come down to help with robes, anyway. >.>
Moriya shakes her head. :) Nope.
Kyrian says, "I think I'm cool. Cept where I haven't actually written a robe desc, but I will."
You say, "Ok, before I offer RP, there's only one more thing on the list. If your character does not impress, please don't badger the players of those characters that do. The staff won't even bother with a guide warning in this case. You'll get one page to stop and, after that, will just be sitebanned from the game for a week. Any player who is comes back and persists in badgering the Weyrlings will be permanently sitebanned until such time as I go through and clear the siteban list again (Usually once an RL year or so). "
You say, "Kyr's gonna go onto the sands in nothing but his unders and a pair of sandals."
T'on says, "I hope he doesn't oft go commando"
Lyllya falls over.
Kyrian says, "Would you go commando if Arial was your mom?"
You say, "AWOL, maybe."
T'on says, "No. I'd join a monastary"
Lyllya adopts T'on out to Arial.
Moriya blinks. Does visiting count as badgering - like, once they can leave the barracks, could I hang out with them then? (I assume we'd not be allowed to visit the barracks, obviously.)
Kyrian says, "I think she means, don't page stuff like "Why did you impress and I didn't?! You suck!!!" etc. ;)"
T'on says, "After one real life week, Moriya."
Moriya giggles. :) Ahhhh, thanks.
T'on says, "We ask that they receive no IC visitors during that period. Helps to cement the bond between rider and dragon"
Moriya nodnods.
You say, "No, no one but the Weyrlings and the WLM staff may be in the barracks. You can have visitors in the training field and you may, as soon as you impress (When your dragon isn't demanding your attention) the LC for meals. This is a busy Weyr, the kitchens don't have time to supply the lounge with more than klah and quick snacks for those on the go. The week of confinement that most games have doesn't exist here."
You say, "However, if someone comes in just to the weyrlings a hard time, or to cause trouble, they'll be escorted out of the area and dealt with in a manner befitting the disruption. If it's OOC griefing, then we bypass guide warning and just ban them for a while. "
Moriya understands.
You say, "If it's IC... Let's put it this way: ICA=ICC. OOCA=OOCC. That's just the way it is."
T'on says, "Bah. Just listen to Lyllya. Id forgotten that we'd changed that rule. Mainly because it's been awhile since I've been required to be truly active as WLM"
Moriya personally loves being a WLM. :> Fun! :D
T'on does too. Else I'd've tried to foist the job off on anyone.
T'on says, "I'm not picky."
You say, "But, as T'on says, the first week is spent mainly in focus on your dragon. You're not going to be taking long walks on the beach with M'right or anything. Your life is rushed. Basically you're tending to a huge newborn. "
T'on says, "One who is often cranky, hungry, and prone to hurt themselves."
T'on says, "And I'm just talking about the Weyrlingmaster. >.>"
You say, "After that you've got a toddler in boot camp. You're not exactly going to be a social butterfly. "
Moriya imagines it is very much like caring for a human child (with obvious differences) - demanding your time constantly, making sure that you get very little sleep, etc. etc. ;>
T'on says, "Sort of, Moriya. With two major differences"
Lyllya nods. "Yep, the difference being that this one cries in your head, doesn't wear diapers, and poos way more than any kid you've ever met.
T'on says, "Well, five really"
T'on says, "This one breathes fire and can fly."
Moriya grins! You should've seen my last one. :>
Lyllya XD
You say, "As for the hatching itself: Unlike Fort, Benden is a new (in terms of being built since our move) Weyr. There's bound to be a few bugs here and there, because this is our first hatching. Bubba and I have worked out as many bugs as we could come up with circumstances for, but we're human (Shut up, T'on. Arial) and it's inevitable that we've missed something. In the event that something does go wrong, just play along as we take care of it. Bubba's a good coder and can think on his ...well... in his computer chair. We'll get it fixed. I also need to rearrange the order of some of the lessons, but the first month stuff is up to date. "
T'on says, "What? Where?"
Moriya recalls a Hatching she ran years ago - an egg supposedly hatched, but you couldn't see the desc, so folks were playing as if the hatchling had poked its' head, paws and tail out of the egg through holes...it was /hilarious/.
Zasey grins.
You say, "Oh yes, and as far as Weyrlinghood goes: Dragons now age at the same rate people do. This extends the OOC period of Weyrlinghood, but offers more of a chance for you to get to play out that Weyrlinghood. Since the lessons are for RP and you get increasing amounts of freedom/privileges as time progresses, there will be plenty of things to do. Benden has an active AWLM as well as assistants and others willing to pitch in and help. "
T'on steals the A out of WLM and makes it an acive WLM. >.>
You say, "Er.. yeah. I don't have my glasses on. >_>"
Moriya wonders if that A is crimson...
You say, "Actually, it's all we got to paint of 'Aaaaah! Run!'."
Moriya grins. That's what it says: AAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH...
You say, "Ok, any questions? And, really, I am done spamming general info at you (I also need to step AFK for a few seconds, but ask away)."
Moriya nopers. ;)
Zasey blinks. AAAAAAAAAAUGHHHH WLM?
T'on says, "Reference to Monty Python's Search for the Holy Grail."
Zasey grins. I love that movie.
You say, "Ok, with that, I can offer some 'we're getting close to the end' RP. n.n"
T'on says, "As can I"
Zasey holds up a sign reading 'The End is Near!'.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Gold Aevaleth by Bronze Cairth, Fort Weyr, VirtuaPern MOO, February 25, 2006
Hatching Sands
Waves of heat wash fleeting mirages across the burning sands, adding to the unreal sense of age combined with agelessness that breathes within the sweltering air. Cowed by the cavern's stony immensity, the galleries huddle near the bowl entrance, below the tiered ranks of viewing ledges that, come Hatching time, hold the matching ranks of dragons who cascade encouragement and welcome to the young lives that begin here -- /here/ -- amid the sweaty shuffle and grit of whispering sand.
You see Sands Logger, Aevaleth, Heavy and Opaque in the Void Egg, Waters of Nun Egg, Dawn of the Universe Egg, Daughter in the Sky Egg, Dreamtime Egg, Ineffable Heart of Brahma Egg, Life from the Dust Egg, Old-Man-in-the-Sky Egg, Eagle and Crow Egg, Feathered Serpent Egg, Tumultuous Embrace of Ophion Egg, Measuring String of Creation Egg, Creation in the Darkness Egg , Hand of God Egg, Big Bang Egg, Fallen Ymir Egg, Formless Tossed in the Sea Egg, Child of the Creator Egg, and Death of Tiamat Egg here.
From the sands, The dragons are humming, vibrating the entire Weyr with sound that is both pleasant and unsettling. The eggs haven't yet started to rock, but Aevaleth has taken up a position of watchfulness at the edge of the sands as if waiting for something to happen.
From the sands, Cairth's woodsy thrumm rumbles out as loudly as it can without breaking into a warble, poised at his customary place around the outer wall of the cavern. His head bobs and weaves anxiously, eyes coruscating a dizzying blizzard of colors. Standing beside the Weyrwoman, M'an tugs lightly at the collar of his undertunic, already having loosened his dressy jacket to half-open. By the sheen of sweat on his face, it'll be gone before too long.
"Excuse me, pardon me, oh, sorry there, didn't mean to step on your foot." T'san has an apologetic grimace still on his face as he makes his way from the ledges along a row to an empty seat, easing down into it and looking immediately at the sands. His face tells of his excitement, while Hith's hum mingles with the noise that all the dragons currently attending are making.
Balqis happens to be one of those whose foot was stood on, and she gives T'san a little glare. "Hey, watch it, greenrider! There's feet down there!" There's a playful twinkle in her eye though even if her face is stern-looking.
Ushering in a large group of nervous chattering Smithcraft apprentices, Aryion directs them all towards a large empty row, midway up the stands. "Now, we talked about this, we are here to cheer Zeyion on. You are all representatives of both Smithcraft and Benden Hold, so I don't expect any misbehaving. If I seen anyone done /anything/ that we talked about. You will be on forge duty for a month." Grunting, the large Smith takes his seat at the end of the row, blue eyes twinkling as he watches for the candidates to emerge.
From the sands, Edgar walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Taylin walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Tomi walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Zeyion walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Nicon walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Kh'dan walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Liaden walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Myr walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Vaethe walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Taylin steps hestitantly out onto the sands, stopping only once to bow to Sire and Dame as well as their riders before moving any futher towards the clutch. The closer she gets to the growing line of candidates the more sure she becomes, looking almost ready to face anything that happens.
From the sands, Myr steps onto the Sands with a determined expression hiding her nerves. She pauses briefly at the entrance, before the Candidate behind her nudges her forward and she walks with Vaethe towards the forming circle. A bow is made to the clutch parents, and then to M'an and Zinia, before she slips into place near to the gold egg.
From the sands, Kh'dan leads the Candidates onto the Sands, lips curved in a proud smile as he ensures they take their correct places around the clutch before joining M'an and Zinia. "What a group," he murmurs to the Weyrleader, sending him a sidelong glance. "I don't think I've seen this much promise in turns." Rubbing his hands gleefully, he awaits the show with an excited smile. Forty turns old, and right now he looks like a child in a candy shop. Or is that candie?
From the sands, Zeyion takes a deep breath, striding onto the sands, following her friends. Pausing, she completes an elegant bow towards the gold and bronze clutch parents, before bowing as well toward the Weyrleaders. Duty completed, gray eyes glance around nervously, looking for Taylin and Nicon, one hand extended toward each of them.
Balqis takes the stairs down toward the entrance.
Sarika has managed to find a seat closer to the front of the galleries and there she sits, her focus firmly on the sands.
From the sands, Liaden's gait is steady as she enters the sands; there's no shakiness in that slender form, and not a glance for those crowded stands. Her bow is exact, if a little wooden, and she fairly marches for her chosen spot on the sands, face blank, but gray-green eyes sparkling with the suppressed excitement that bubbles just below that pale skin.
From the sands, Tomi is a bundle of nerves. She can't help herself. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. A bow of respect is given to both sire and dam and then Weyrwoman and Weyrleader before she shuffles off towards a corner of the Sands, following Taylin, Zeyion and Nicon. With a quick scan towards the galleries, the little candidate tries to locate her mother's beaming face. Big mistake. There's so many people. It's enough to make the little weyrbrat dizzy. The eggs are a much safer target. "Which one is your favorite again," she leans over to ask Taylin nervously, her tiny hand darting out to take the older girl's, trembling even with that everyday movement.
From the sands, Vaethe watches Myr for a second as she bows, then copies her, bowing to each of the clutch parents, then M'an and Zinia. She then follows after Myr, taking slow deep breaths as she walks across the sand.
From the sands, Nicon cautiously steps onto the sands, shoulders tense and drawn back as he preceeds forward with the remainder of the candidates. Upon reaching the clutching parents, he bows deeply, mindfully tugging at his robe to keep it in place before casting a brief glance toward the eggs. His jaws clench nervously, though his expression remains markedly clear of all emotion with the exception of a brief smile toward Zeyion as he takes her hand, extending it quickly to Taylin as they proceed toward the semi-circle of candidates.
Alizriel shifts a little restlessly in her seat, she simply couldn't sit in one place for long periods time like she used to. Her ear twitches slightly as it catches the sound of a familiar voice... Aryion?
From the sands, Edgar takes a deep breath as he steps onto the Sands, looking briefly down at the hot footing, and stops. Calmly, he offers individual bows to M'an, Zinia and to each of the clutchparents. Suddenly, though, his nervousness returns and he straightens up, appearing stiff. He looks over to Myr, trying to force himself to smile.
From the sands, Somehow the humming that shakes the Weyr seems more intense in the Hatching Caverns, amplified by the size of the cavern and the many dragons packing its ledges. The clutchsire stands near the back of the cavern, as has been his wont, although his slightly hunched spine and the bobbing motion of his head betrays something akin to anxiety as he hums deeply, eyeing the Candidates as they aproach his beautiful spawn. The Weyrleader's riding jacket has been slung carelessly over his left shoulder, and he uses his right hand to wipe the sweat glistening on his brow. M'an nods at the Weyrsecond when he leads the potentials in, a slight grin springing up as his eyes meet Kh'dan's. "It makes an old man hopeful," he agrees with the other bronzerider.
From the sands, Tumultuous Embrace of Ophion Egg shakes once, cracks forming along its shell before those bits fall away to reveal a large bronze. No time is lost as the dragonet makes for a boy from Crom with a pleading cry. "His name is Falth!" Satumble, now S'tumble, greets his new lifemate and the ageless scene upon the hatching sands begins to unfold.
Aryion smiles as the candidates emerge, one of the apprentices standing to shout out, "Look its Zeyion!" Cheering emerges from the Smith section, as Aryion adds his booming voice to the high pitched apprentices. "That's my girl!"
From the sands, Myr clasps Vaethe's hand nervously, while she's scanning to see where everyone else is standing. "Ed, are you nervous?" There's at least a blush on Myr's pallid cheeks now, so she doesn't look quite as sick as she did. "Do you want to hold my hand?" And then a squeak is given. "Oh, a bronze! Good luck!"
From the sands, Taylin claps loudly for the new pair "Bronze, that's a good start I've heard." Congratulations are called out before the candidates eyes return to the clutch.
From the sands, Dawn of the Universe Egg trembles in place. The tremble slowly building to a rocking and the rocking to determination. The contents are clearly eager to be free of all encasement. It doesn't take but a few more wobbles and it is done.
From the sands, Dawn of the Universe egg begins to shake, small cracks forming over its surface as it seeks to expand. All motion seems to stop before, all at once, the bits of shell are pushed outward and away, leaving the remnants scattered about the now exposed dragonet.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet
From the sands, Feline form and grace are echoed in the pert turn of knob and muzzle all dappled in alternating patterns of sand and loam like a harlequin's mask. Dusty amber smudges arched eyeridges against the backdrop of near black that traces his forehead. Blended earthen tones swathe his back and clothe his wings much like a coat of deep brown. The broad expanse of each 'sail carries a streak of gold amidst the fine veining and more stable structure, the color appearing again briefly along the thick length of his tail. His limbs are wiry rather than bulky, but that takes nothing away from the curved danger of the talons that tip each chocolate dipped paw.
T'san grins at Balqis before the first Impression catches his attention. "Bronze! The old rider's eyes are shining with the memory of his own Impression to the green whose clear voice hums even louder in welcome to the dragonets.
From the sands, "Bronze?! Bronze?!" Tomi's favorite egg held bronze. Well, it is a sign of good luck, but... "You were supposed to be a green," she accuses the newly hatched dragon before cheering for the quick Impression. "Well done S'tumble." S'tumble and Falth. A pair to stay away from during weyrling training, for sure.
From the sands, Edgar takes no time to grab Myr's hand and then replies, "Yes, I am and yes, I would like to hold your hand. Thank you." He likes a little bit of comfort to ease his nerves, but he soon forgets about his nervousness when he watches dragonets emerge from their eggs. "Did you see that bronze," he points. "They've already started impressing. Incredible." Now the man's in awe.
From the sands, Zeyion is glancing around, holding tight to her friends hands, when a loud cheer from the stands draws her attention. "Tay, its my dad!" A small wave is cast toward the Smith cheering section, the brown's emergence reverting her gaze to the sands. "Oh.. he's lovely."
From the sands, Taylin turns to look at the stands and misses the hatching of the brown, but she's all eyes when she turns back about to see him " Look Zey, that brown. Isn't he goodlooking fellow."
From the sands, Nicon blinks at the promptness of the first impression, though hardly a moment passes before a brown emerges into view. "Shards, this is.... this is nice." Catching himself at the last moment, he rotates his shoulders briefly, his eyes nervously twitching as he drops his glance to the girl's beside him. "Look at that brown.... nice."
From the sands, Myr turns to grin at Vaethe, "A bronze hatching first is good luck," she explains, before turning her eyes to the brown. "Oh, and look at him! He's a stunner, alright... don't you think so? Ed, Vaethe?" With both of her hands being clasped, she's not free to do much fidgeting - though her feet are moving.
From the sands, Cairth can't help but peal a subdued trumpet to greet his firstborn, and his second, as a strong pair set the tone for the clutch. M'an looks equally proud, his grin widening as the bronze finds a mate with no time lost. "Swift and sure," despite their names, "a good sign. You're right, Kh'dan. I think we can expect great things here."
From the sands, Vaethe clasps Myr's available hand back, and glances over to Edgar with a slightly blank expression. She then looks back to the brown, blinking a little as she studies it, her face slowly falling into a somewhat more relaxed expression.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet has made an entrance. Standing in the middle of the shells, he crans his neck towards both his parents. A soft croon is given before he examines himself. One wing lifts and is peered at. The other gets the same careful examination. A quick once over of the balance of this body and he is ready. He starts to make a step and stops. Eyes whirl as he considers just what he is looking for. Or perhaps make that a who? Determined steps carry him in one direction as he barrels through any not looking.
From the sands, Tomi's eyes wander to another cracked shell, her eyes widening at the appearance of the dashing brown. "Oooh," she gasps. "Beautiful." And the nerves fade in the pervading heat of the Sands, the little candidate begins the Candie dance. Left. Right. Left. Right. Were the Sands always this hot?
From the sands, Taylin squeezes Zeys hand "He's moving Zey, come this way." yanking on the hand instead of squeezing it now. It's not fear that grabs her, just well not wanting to be in the browns way "Look at him move, I thought they were all shaky and the likes when they just hatch."
From the sands, Old-Man-in-the-Sky Egg begins to shake, the shell falling away to reveal a green with a blunt muzzle that is then used to bump the midsection of a young Harper girl. A squeal of delight issues from the crafter as she announces her new lifemate's name as "Seath," but her name remains unchanged. So it is that Shelie takes on her new life within the Weyr.
From the sands, Edgar bobs his head at Myr, "So I've heard." He then notices the brown and smiles, "He's a looker, alright." He squeezes Myr's hand, though, as the excitement finally hits him. Candidate returns Vaethe's glance and shrugs, not understanding her blank look. His attention is taken away by an Impression, though. "Go her."
From the sands, Zeyion giggles, following as her friend drags her away from the direction of the brown. "Shards.. I'm coming, I'm coming. Nic... you are coming too." As she tugs on the older boy's hand as well.
From the sands, Kh'dan moves away from M'an, coming to S'tumble's side and gesturing for the young man and his new partner to follow. "Congratulations," he says warmly, leading the pair to where a number of helpers wait with buckets of meat for the newly Impressed. "A very impressive young fellow." Then it's back to the Weyrleader's side, curious eyes watching the brown to see where he will go. Well. Until Shelie Impresses Seath, and he's off to lead them to food. At least he gets to move around.
From the sands, "And a green!" Myr's looking more excited by the minute, and her grin's expanding. "Did you see that one? They all seem to know exactly where they want to go already! That's meant to be good... Where d'you reckon that brown's gonna go? Do you think he'll pick a boy or a girl?"
From the sands, Nicon merely stares at the brown, a sidelong glance snapped toward Zeyion as she tugs him away from their position. "What? Why do we need to move," he groans while trodding along, mumbling to himself as he follows the small group of girls.
From the sands, Vaethe stays perfectly still, letting the sands burn her feet as she frowns a little, staring off into the distance. "...Kind of late for speculation at this point, don't you think, Myr?" She continues to study the brown, a slight smirk edging onto her face for just a second.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet steps on one candidate and stops to peer down at him. This lasts for a split second for the lad is not who he seeks. Recklessly he moves on, wings almost hitting this one and that one has he passes. Time is of the essence. Where is the one he wants? His tail swishes angrily as he stops, surrounded by white moving 'not the one' types. A sudden movement catches his eye and he is off and running again, paying not the least bit of attention to anyone who gets in his way.
From the sands, Daughter in the Sky Egg trembles where it sits, nearly rocking from the mound on which it sits, but then falls still again.
From the sands, Taylin tugs again "Zeyion he's getting faster, let's move." The voice more demanding now, as things become very real. "I don't want to get stepped on that's why Nicon."
From the sands, Edgar shrugs at Myr, "I'm not sure who that brown wants. I'll tell you what, though, he sure isn't polite." Well, of course the dragonet wouldn't be, it's just a baby afterall.
From the sands, Tomi sends up another cheer. "Congratulations Shelie!" And Seath. What a lucky pair. As Taylin tugs Zeyion away from her, and Nicon follows, Tomi trails after the trio. Look, candie conga line. "Where are you going?" Not that she minds heading /away/ from the dragonets. They look awfully big for newborns. And those talons look awfully sharp.
From the sands, M'an frowns slightly, his vigil unrelieved by the necessity of movement, dark eyes locked on the young man who's been knocked about. "I don't see any blood," he comments over his shoulder to nobody in particular. "He looks well enough, just a bit shook. Pouncy thing, that brown. I hope the others are more careful."
Alizriel eyes the young girl from the gallery... Zeyion... yes she could she the family resemblance. Ah, bronze, brown and green! She smiles as Impressions are made, always amazed by the pairings. But what of that sly looking brown? A cavalier for sure. She watches and waits...
From the sands, Kh'dan returns to M'an's side, studying the same young man with complete unconcern. "He seems fine enough to me," the Weyrsecond replies dismissively. "No blood, and he's conscious." Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, he turns his gaze on the brown, following his progress. "Seems like he's got the idea now, at least."
From the sands, Myr squeaks, cringing as the brown dragonet stands on someone. "Oh, Faranth, is he ok? Oh, Faranth, I hope they're not all like that..." She looks at Vaethe, looking kinda confused, "But... Oh, I don't know," she says amicably, shrugging. "He is a bit boistrous, isn't he, Ed? But so lovely looking... I'll bet he's even more of a looker when he's grown up!"
From the sands, Zeyion continues to be pulled along in Taylin's wake, "Shards.. slow down! That brown has changed direction again." A quick glance is given toward Nicon, "You coming?" Reluctantly she plants her sandals in the sand. "Tay.. no more. We need to stay in one spot."
From the sands, Vaethe pose looks over to the candidate who got stepped on quickly, moving a step in his direction as she drops Myr's hand, but as she sees he's fine, relaxes a bit and steps back towards Myr.
From the sands, Daughter in the Sky Egg shudders again, the sides heaving as the ovoid's occupant struggles for freedom. Bit by bit, the effort begins to pay off and if the cracks in the shell are any indication, it won't be long.
From the sands, "No, Vaethe, you need to stay here," Myr says, clinging to the girls hand. "Lookit the gold egg... it's rocking, it's gonna crack soon... we're in the best place here I reckon to attract her over." But even as she says it, she looks more nervous that before, and only just manages to tear her eyes from the gold-tinted egg to watch the brown dragonet.
From the sands, Nicon moves no more, firmly planting his feet in the sands below while maintaining his grip of Zeyion's hand. "Why are you running?" he asks again while delving his feet in the sand to face the emerging dragonets while saying, "There's no sense in running, if they want you, they'll get to you."
From the sands, Big Bang Egg and Hand of God Egg both manage to hatch at once, and equally emerald greens burst forth from the shells to begin squabbling with one another. This goes on for several minutes before two siblings- brother and sister- step forward to attempt to end the argument. In all of the noise, it's hard to tell what names are called forward, but the waters have been calmed for now.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet barrels through another small group of candidates. The white ones part like foam on the sea in his wake. Skidding to a halt he turns his head in frustration,, for the one he wants won't stay still. Deciding enough is enough, he again pushes aside another small group to find himself staring up into expressive gray eyes. yes, finally! The auburn hair and that elegant touch of white has him enthralled. A friend, a comrade, a life-partner. This and more he finds as he looks at Zeyion.
From the sands, Daughter in the sky egg shudders and shifts in the sand. Cracks form along the details of the shell and then begin to expand as that which is held within works to free itself. A glimpse of golden silk appears and all motion stills before, with a mighty *CRACK* the shell simply gives way.
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet
From the sands, Sun-bright gold makes its way over the pert form of knob to touch upon the youthful curve of head and muzzle, interrupted only by darker smudges above and below each eye. Honey hued streaks decorate the delicate curve of her neck and soft slope of ridges to land about her shoulders in a swirl of rich color that lightens over her throat. Imperial silk drapes and falls over the lightly muscled form of her torso, pooling at her flanks and swathing her limbs in patterned splendor that culminates in the trailing form of her tail. Pure white gold can be found in the cape-like expanse of her wings, the color interrupted by a feathered veining pattern that somehow softens the dangerous curve of spar and talon.
Balqis climbs up the stairs from the entrance.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at the brown dragon for a moment, but follows Myr's order, walking back to her side, staring at the brown for a moment longer, frowning as he gets closer to Zeyion, then relaxing as she sees he's impressed. She looks over to the gold, as if waiting for her to walk up to her. Ah, the arrogance of youth. Or Vaethe, whatever.
From the sands, Taylin steps away from Zeyion in time to see the gold hatch, but it's her friend that earns a smile first "Congrats Zeyion, he's splendid." Giving the pair room, Tay looks for a new hand to hold.
From the sands, Edgar opens his mouth to say something to both Myr and Vaethe, but nothing comes out. His eyes were following the brown dragonet, since he was so obvious and he noticed that it stopped at Zeyion. It's a great feeling with the Candidates who were closer to you when they Impress. "Zey," he raises his voice, "he's perfect for you." As he hears gasps, his eyes land upon the newly hatched gold, "Beautiful."
From the sands, Myr squeaks across at Zeyion, "Congratulations!" And then that gold egg cracks. And spills out a gold dragonet. "There she is," the girl exhales, trying to calm herself. "She's so beautiful, lookit her..."
From the sands, Zeyion blinks. Both hands letting go as she falls to her knees, hands reaching up to caress the muzzle of the brown dragonet before her. "Always... together. Iasath. His name is Iasath!" Crooning, the brown nuzzles her hands, the new weyrling giggling happily.
From the sands, Nicon releases Zeyion's hand at the moment of impression, a mixture of joy and dejection racing across his stern features. Gently, he places his hand across her back to nudge her forward, murmuring, "Go Zeyion, he is yours." As he steps back, his eyes drift toward the newly hatched gold then narrow onto the remaining eggs.
From the sands, Tomi had turned her head to watch the newborn brown pounce on some poor candidate, and therefore missed it completely when Nicon stops. "Oof," is muttered as the little candidate bounces off. Stumbling backwards, the excess cloth trips her up and she falls on her rump. Giving the trio a rather dazed look, she can only gasp as the brown goes barreling past her to find his lifemate with Zeyion. "Oh Zey! Congratulations!" And she waits with bated breath for the name. Ohly the gasps and excitement from the other girls on the Sands draws her attention towards the gold egg... that doesn't seem to be there any more. "Oh my," the little candidate gasps forgetting everything else. What hot sand? What ignoble position. There's only the newly hatched queen on the Sands.
From the sands, Kh'dan has to wonder no more. Fixing a bright smile on his face, the Weyrsecond approaches Zeyion, waiting patiently while she and her new lifemate share their first, all-important moments. "Congratulations," he murmurs gently, stretching out an arm to guide them to the side. "Come this way, food awaits your beautiful Iasath."
From the sands, M'an's eyes light up with peculiar pleasure as the brown seizes Zeyion in his gaze. "Excellent," he mentions to Kh'dan. "I was hoping her lifemate was here. I have plans for them in a few Turns." He can barely restrain from rubbing his hands together in glee. He does clasp them together emphatically as the queen hatches, this time finding Myr surreptitiously with his gaze. Oh, he's supposed to be impartial, but what parent can avoid hoping for the best?
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet looks about her, a nearly apologetic croon issuing before she takes her first tentative steps away from the remnants of her shell. A stumble sends her unsteadily down the hill, past another hatching egg, and into a group of girls that fall under her weight. Once she's figured out the ins and outs of movement, she steps back with an embarrassed croon and almost appears to bow several times. The sea of white calls, however, and it's time to find the one she was born for.
From the sands, Zeyion blinks, looking up toward Kh'dan. "Yes.. sir. Come on love." Quickly, the new weyrling and her brown make their way over toward the sidelines, collapsing together into a pile, as they watch the rest of the hatching unfold.
From the sands, Myr catches M'an's gaze, and gives him a big smile that shows plenty of teeth. But it only lasts briefly, because those nerves are bubbling up again. Cairth is held in her gaze for a few seconds, before she turns back to the gold and watches her first clumsy steps.
T'san watches the green and brown Impress with a smile, then stares at the gold intently. "Wonder who she'll choose," he murmurs thoughtfully, eyes darting over the female candidates.
From the sands, Taylin winces as the gold tumbles into a knot candidates "Whew, looks like she escaped with out being hurt." A hand reaches out for Nicon along with a smile "Safety in numbers right?"
From the sands, Measuring String of Creation Egg chooses this moment to hatch as well. This time it's a blue that is spilled forth onto the hot sands. Nearly rolling into one of the white clad bodies, he looks up with a stupefied expression and shakes his head. Did he do that? The boy, a young blonde lad from Fort Hold now named N'ap announces his joy in the form of a name. "Sleepyth!"
Aryion blinks, sitting there in silence as his daughter impresses the brown. The smith section erupts around him, first for Zeyion's impression, then for the emergence of the gold. Tears flow down the older journeyman's cheeks, as he simply sits in his seat, watching his daughter... the new browrider.
From the sands, Nicon stumbles forward several steps with the force, albeit meager, of Tomi as she reels into him. "What is going..." he twists his torso to catch glimpse of the smaller candidate as she drops to the fervent stands and, in a gesture quite unlike him, offers a hand to assist her up. "Be careful Tomi, don't hurt yourself," he quietly says while tucking his arms about his chest, dark eyes determined as they fix upon the dragonets.
From the sands, Vaethe frowns a bit as she watch the gold stumble, squeezing Myr's hand just the slightest bit. She glances to the blue for a moment, then looks back to the gold, her expression focused but not quite as certain now.
From the sands, Kh'dan pauses briefly on the sidelines to seperate the again squabbling greens, finally leading one of the 'twins' to the opposite side of the growing Weyrling class. Then it's back onto the Sands again to collect N'ap and Sleepyth, eyes holding amusement as he cups the boy's elbow to keep him on his feet. "Come along," he rumbles, guiding them to the others.
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet steps nervously over the sands, looking at each girl with whirling eyes as she attempts to make a selection. This one? No. That one? No. But where? Ever cautious she stumbles along, her talons making furrows in the sands as she cries piteously toward the group in general and then moves ever onward as if on the trail of something.
From the sands, Tomi comes to her senses as the heat once again makes itself known. "Sorry Nic," she offers by way of apology, looking rather stunned... and shamefaced, perhaps? Rising awkwardly with the assitance of the taller Bendenite, she moves over to stand beside him and Taylin, her eyes gone somewhat dreamy as she watches Zeyion lead Iasath off the hot Sands. "Shells, that was unexpected." The little blue's appearance isn't noticed right away, but as Impression is made, the little candidate cheers for the pair. "Congratulations N'ap."
From the sands, Taylin kicks her feet to free her toes of the hot sand while shifting from side to side "Shells my feet feel like their on fire." She's not complaining just stating the facts "Congrats Nap, he's a pretty blue just right for you." Her words are hurried as she turns back to watch the moving gold.
From the sands, M'an nods ever so slightly to his daughter from across the cavern, his expression a little stiff. His attention begs to focus on the gold dragonet, to see just who the Weyr will be looking to as a future Weyrwoman. Yet he's almost afraid to watch. Definitely getting too old for this kind of thing.
From the sands, Iasath croons softly, eagerly nuzzling Zeyion. "Soon, dear. I have to watch and see who else impresses. Don't worry love, it won't be long now." Snorting, the brown drops his wings, sulking but content to be caressed by his new lifemate.
From the sands, Edgar has a feeling that all eyes are on the gold dragon, especially since his eyes are on her too. He can't figure out why, since she's there for the girls. "She just has such pretty coloring," he notes to his 'partners', Myr and Vaethe. The man forces himself to look elsewhere, though, since there is so much still going on. A cheer then comes out of his mouth for N'ap, without him even thinking about it.
From the sands, What's this? Someone just as apologetic? Perhaps not as uncertain, but that can only be a plus. Sidling up to one small candidate, she leans against the girl companionably and croons as if in sympathy for the heat felt from the sands. Her home has been found in the form of a small candidate girl named Tomi.
From the sands, Nicon squints toward Tomi, languidly uncrossing his arms to extend his hands out to both Taylin and Nicon, before noting in a low murmur, "It wasn't expected, we all knew she would impress." There is a hint of hurt in his voice, which he hides with a brief cough before the gold approaches them and as it would seem to be the norm now, Tomi is impressed right besides him. "Tomi, um.....congrats!"
From the sands, Eagle and Crow Egg starts rocking with an intensity so fine it's nearly invisible, the motion visible only in the flecks of sand that shiver away from the shell. The rocking builds swiftly and surely.
From the sands, Eagle and Crow Egg can no longer contain its potential; the shell shivers as if caught in turbulent currents, sky-born tumult left in the wake of plummeting avians. There is a powerful shuddering and cracks appear along implied flight paths, zooming rapidly towards their terminus until the entire egg bursts apart in an explosion that might break the sound barrier.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet
From the sands, Lines of pewter writhe like arcane script over his bodys compact slenderness, obscuring the brightly polished bronze of his hide. A backdrop of shimmering twilight emphasizes vast wingsails that flash silvery white like billowing fey mists. Ridges do not march but flow down from the wide crown of his head, upon which the trailing edge of each crest is up-curved and inked-dipped as the tip of a calligrapher's brush. His knobs echo the narrow flute of his muzzle; all are rimmed in antique gold. The understated elegance of his form melds well with his uncannily deliberate movements, overshadowing the aberration of tailspades cleft.
From the sands, Taylin claps her hands "COngrats Tomi, she's splendid." Moving further from the new pairing Tayling just manages to catch the new bronze emerging.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at Tomi for a long moment, as if not entirely sure of what's happenning, then grins at her. She then looks back to the new bronze dragonet appreciatively, looking to Edgar for a moment. "...Yeah. Not the strongest spirit, though."
From the sands, Dreamtime Egg takes its own good time in hatching, lazily rocking and cracking as if it had all of the time in the world. Indeed, it would if the dragonet inside weren't insistent upon reaching the world outside. Yet another blue is revealed that stumbles toward a group of candidates and chooses one from amongst the crowd. "Daith!" N'ite calls out in rapturous joy.
From the sands, Edgar quickly looks around to see what most of the Galleries is cheering about. "What happened?" Someone points in the direction of the gold dragonet who is near Tomi. No, is that right? The man almost cannot contain himself, "Tomi, look! The gold! And you!" Someone needs to slap him. He quickly snaps out of it as Vaethe makes a note to him. A glance is given at the newly hatched bronze and he shrugs, "How can you tell?"
From the sands, Tomi just blinks as an unexpected warmth settles at her side. Looking down, her wide-eyed gaze meets the neverending depths of the little queen's gaze and the girl once again drops to the hot Sands. "Haseth? You're name is... Haseth!" Tears stream down cheeks still plump with baby fat as she looks around her. "Hungry, you're... oh or course you are." Rising shakily, she vaguely hears the cheers of congratulations around her. Please pardon her manners, she's just a little stunned.
From the sands, Kh'dan gapes. Really. He can't help it. Tomi? But... Sending an uncertain glance towards M'an, he shrugs slightly and approaches the new weyrwoman, eyeing her warily. "Well, Tomi, congratulations," he murmurs. "How about you and your lovely, ah, Haseth, join us?" With a slightly more easy smile, he motions for her to follow, pausing only briefly to collect N'ite and his blue.
From the sands, M'an passes a hand over his face, smearing the perspiration. He looks just a bit pale, and misses Kh'dan's look completely. Tomi. Oh, Faranth. He pastes a smile on his face for the shocked girl, knowing that she'll miss the nuances behind it in the distraction of her lifemate.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet remains still for a moment amidst the thoroughly shattered remains of his casing, blinking a few times as he inspects the shards. He knew that was going to happen, but it doesn't make it any less... abrupt. With a little shiver, he carefully raises himself to standing, canting his head from this side to that in a scanning motion.
From the sands, Zeyion watches as the gold snags Tomi as her lifemate, before cheering loudly! "Go Tomi! Haseth? Good name... Oh, there now, Iasath... I love you. But I am happy for my friend." Snorting again, the little brown is content to nuzzle for the moment.
From the sands, Nicon steps aside the newly impressed, a diminutive smirk upon his lips as his eyes drop to Tomi and the gold, the words, "Congratulations," murmured again as the lad lifts his arms anew to cross them across his chest and fixate his gaze onto the bronze that emerges. "Nice bronze," he mentions, shifting toward Taylin as he speaks to stand closely besides the girl.
From the sands, Taylin watches the bronze, head tipping to the left then all the way over to the right as if viewing him from all angels "He's a nice one, timid it seems but well put together."
From the sands, Vaethe shakes her head a little. "No, the gold. Good fit for Tomi, perhaps, but it makes me worry a little...." She shrugs equitably, and watches Dreamtime hatch, letting out a bit of a sigh as N'ite gets him. "...The bronze looks strong enough, actually."
From the sands, Tomi follows Kh'dan quickly to the side, missing completely the rather concerned look as she rests a entranced hand on the little golden neck, a comforting smile quirking up her lips as she reassures the hungry little queen that she shall feast as is her due.
From the sands, Edgar nods, "Oh, I see. That's too bad?" Though, he is sure the gold will be a strong asset to the Weyr. His eyes return to the bronze and nudges his fellow Candidate, "He does look like it. He also seems to almost be picking his person out without having to wobble around." If that's so, the man thinks that is smart.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet slowly stretches forth a wing, displaying width of misty sail still glistening from the egg fluids. Giving the edge a very deliberate flick, he sends a splotch of goo sailing across the sands, following its flight path visibly with his head and staring, fascinated, as it splatters against a young man's cheek. How very interesting. And yet, not quite right.
From the sands, Life from the Dust Egg rocks quietly in its place on the Sands, not quite ready to shatter, but judging from the cracks mazing across the shell, not far off from that fateful moment.
From the sands, Taylin could almost laugh at the way the bronze is acting but between the shifting of her feet and watching the impressions happen she really doesn't get a chance to "I think he'll either wander over for you or Edgar, either of you would be a good match for him."
From the sands, Vaethe stares at the bronze for a very long moment, then shakes her head a little. "...Guess he takes after Cairth." She sounds a little amused. She glances over to Life from the Dust, watching as it prepares to make it's way onto the sand.
From the sands, Amidst the backdrop of all of this, eggs rock and shells crack. Bronze, blue, and green go in search of their lifemates and the circle of candidates becomes thinner and thinner. A small crowd is now gathered near the entrance to the barracks and the supplies of meat are constantly refilled.
From the sands, Nicon grimaces as the air-borne egg-goo hits upon a unexpecting candidate's face, shifting slightly to accomodate for the gathering heat beneath his feet. Darting back to the bronze, then toward the eggs as they continue to shake, he draws another deep, steadying breath as Taylin's words. "Perhaps, but who knows who the dragons'll will choose." Eyes drift toward Tomi.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet simply can't see what he wants from here. One forepaw follow the next with well-deliberated steps as he begins to move, passing decorously through lines of white. No, no, no. None of these fit the part at all. But this one... this one is definitely it. Tilting his head back, he sits on his haunches and lets his whirling eyes travel over Edgar.
From the sands, Taylin nods in agreement "Very true, very true. One can never tell what a dragon will find that they want in a certain person." More shifting from foot to foot as she looks down the dwindling line of those still standing before the ever shrinking clutch. "Look the bronze chose Edgar, see I knew it would be you or him."
From the sands, Vaethe blinks as the bronze approaches, then smiles a bit at Edgar. "You'll do well together, I think." That said, she turns her head back towards the sands and watches the eggs, crossing her arms against her chest.
From the sands, Life from the Dust Egg can't hold any longer - it doesn't stand a chance against the titanic forces tearing it down from within. With a last, long shudder, it splits asunder, shards raining all around as from the wreckage struts a bright, brilliant dragonet, announcing his presence to the world with an imperial bugle in his rich, commanding voice.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet
From the sands, Dying sunlight gilds bronzen flesh, turning hide from russet to a brilliant, flaming orange. Sunset's rays are captive within velvet hide, giving it a permanently tropical glow but for where twilight's fingers encroach upon the sun-seared stretches to the proud tip of his cobalt-tinted muzzle. Burnished hide sweeps back in growing growing brightness as it traverses the noble head with its deep-set eyes and intelligent cant, glinting almost golden by the time it spirals down long throat to rush across the muscular shoulders. The color lightens to near white where wings meet shoulders, branching off along stays pale as the driven snow while the skin that stretches lightly over the spars is a brilliant autumn hue. From wings on back, sun's light dies, deepening from aged gold to brandy along the tip of his tail.
From the sands, Edgar is only briefly distracted by the Life from the Dust egg, mostly because the bronze is just standing still. Doesn't look like he's planning on going anywhere, right? A fellow Candidate taps him on the shoulder to point at another disgusted Candidate with goo all over their face, "That's gross -" he pauses, almost not able to finish the last word, and falls to his knees, not even minding the scorching Sands. "You moved. And you came to me." Tears begin to flow down his face as he smiles wide and raises his voice, "He says his name is Ercelth!"
From the sands, M'an seems to have recovered from the, ah, surprise of Tomi's Impression, and is now beaming faintly as scores of dragonets and Candidates turn into a sea of Weyrlings. He likes Weyrlings. Every now and again he pauses in his smiling and nodding to search the Sands for Myr, a hint of anxiousness now furrowing his brow as he sees her still Standing. And then the Princely bronze bugles and he must take note: he's particularly interested in these bronze ones, for some reason. Biased.
From the sands, Taylin tugs on Nicons hand "Look another bronze, I'll lay a half mark that he takes to you." See she's pretty sure of herself, "Edgar got his and that one is for you, I'm sure of it."
From the sands, Nicon winces as the heat tears as the pliable fabric of his sandals, a muttered word about hand-me-downs made before he lifts his eyes to catch Edgar's impression. "You were right Taylin, should've bet on it, right?" he remarks with a smirk, his attention immediately upon the newest bronze as it emerges. "I knew that one would hatch a bronze, I could just feel it when I touched that egg," he says, his arms tightened about his chest, "We'll see, I don't think so Taylin.."
From the sands, Tomi looks towards the eggs and dragonets as cheers wildly go up around her. "Edgar! Ercelth!" Looking over towards Zeyion, the little weyrling just beams happily. "Can you believe this Zey? Did you ever think that we'd find ourselves here?" The introductory bugle catches her attention and the girl blinks again. So vocal already.
From the sands, Cairth bugles in response to his son. /He/ knew that was a bronze, too. It's good to be right. Now if only Aevaleth had let him drool on it some more...
From the sands, Zeyion is all dimpled smile now, one arm around her Iasath while the other waves and cheers for the impressions of her friends. "Edgar and Ercelth! Congratulations!" As the newest bronze emerges, gray eyes dart toward Taylin and Nicon. "That bronze is his... I bet." Blinking, she turns toward Tomi, nodding. "I can't believe it..."
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet steps from the wreckage of his former home, peering down at the shards with only a soft rumble of regret. But now, he is out, and it is time that he stop dreaming and start living the life he was meant to have. With careful, precise steps, he moves away from the shards of the eggs and begins to march towards the dwindling lines of white-ones with unusual grace for one so young. He has a duty to do, and he shall do it, no matter what that rumbling in his tummy tells him.
From the sands, Vaethe frowns a little, glancing over to Myr. The eggs are slowly dwindling at this rate, and contrary to her prediction, the dragonets haven't exactly been all over them....
From the sands, Nicon narrowly observes the bronze as he marches forward with a sense duty much like Nicon's. "Impressive," is all he manages, an approving nod given while he awkwardly shifts in the sands. Finding it difficult to accomodate to the heat, he continues to shift from either foot, though his eyes remain firmly fixed on the bronze.
From the sands, Taylin lifts her chin up "I just know it, I do." Her eyes glance from bronze to the remaining eggs.
Alizriel is startled awake from the shower of pebbles and sand on her head. Her face shines red, brighter than any ruby in her workshop. She honestly wasn't that old yet... was she?! The glint of brazen wings catches her eye. My that bronze is a dashing one.
From the sands, Ineffable Heart of Brahma Egg and Death of Tiamat Egg both hatch within seconds of eachother, spilling their respective contents onto the sands. This time a bronze and a brown move on to find their own lifemates. The brown nudges into a girl who squeels out a name "Hearth?" But C'ndie doesn't have to ask twice, she's found her future. The bronze, on the other hand, announces his own claim with a loud noise that's just a bit off key. "Belth!" There's no uncertainty from T'ako.
From the sands, Tomi motions Haseth closer.
From the sands, Edgar places his hand on Ercelth's neck and motions the dragonet to follow him to where the other Weyrling pairs are. He's so happy, though. "I'll be able to get you some food for that stomach of yours in just a little bit." Once they arrive to the edge of the Sands, he flashes a smile at Kh'dan.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet continues that miltary march along the lines, pausing to sniff at this boy, eye this girl, but taking no interest in any of them. No, no, no! This will never do. None of these are what he needs, none possess the discipline, or the strength, to aide him in his duties. Then something catches his eye, a rhythm that matches so closely to his own four-beat gait, and his head picks up, eyes whirling faster as he heads towards the distraction.
From the sands, Seeing that all the eggs have hatched, and only a bronze is left, Vaethe just stares for a very long moment, a slight smile tracing her face. She wipes her face with the back of her sleeve, and bites her lip, glancing over to Nicon and Myr.
From the sands, Zeyion beams as Edgar joins them with his Ercelth. "Oh, congratulations Edgar! He's a fine looking bronze." Iasath croons happily toward his clutchsibs, before butting Zeyion with his muzzle. "Shards, he's getting hungry. I wonder how much longer?" Gray eyes dart toward the bronze, holding her breath, just who is it going to go to?
From the sands, Taylin watches the last eggs hatch, and those hatchlings impress. Looking from Nicon to the bronze, she can now only wait for what she's betting on will happen.
From the sands, Nicon maintains his post as the bronze gathers speed across the sands. Although his eyes widen with apprehension, his face remains clear of emotion bar the barely discernible quiver of his lower lip. "That bronze can move, can't he, he'd be perfect in flights," he remarks, his shaky voice now betraying his stoic posture and quickly, he coughs to cover it.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet can feel it, hear it, the cadence of marching. That sound of ultimate duty in the strike of sandaled feet against the Sands. He comes to a halt only a foot before a young man with cropped coppery curls. He pauses for a snort of dismay at seeing this Candidate, this one, in such ill-fitting clothing, but with steely gaze, nudges Nicon in the chest, determined that this is the one for him - despite his appalling sense of fashion.
From the sands, Taylin moves away from Nicon with a smile "See I told you." she whispers, adding "Congrats." Stepping further away, Tayling joins the other candidates still standing though unlike many her face is dry of tears.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at Nicon and the bronze, then follow Taylin off the sands after a moment, her face set stoically, but her eyes watering a little.
From the sands, Nicon tenses from head to toe as the bronze nears, his jaw thrust upwards as he places a firm glance upon the dragon. It begins with a smirk though then rises into an elated chuckle as he unfurls his arms to carefully drap them about the dragon's neck. "Food it is then, my dear friend," he says in a wistful voice, quickly straightening to promptly ask, "Campeoth needs some food, immediately.... please."
From the sands, Kh'dan returns Edgar's smile, then approaches Nicon, pride shining in his face. This one, after all, was a prime catch for Nyrloth. "Congratulations to you and Campeoth," murmurs the Weyrsecond, moving to lead both lad and dragonet from the Sands, to join their fellow Weyrlings at their feast.
From the sands, Zinia steps forward, clapping her hands as the last of her dragon's brood impresses. "Good matches, all," she announces as she glances over the weyrlings. To the candidates left, she motions for them to gather round M'an. "The Weyrleader would like a word with you before you go to join the feast, but I want to thank all of you for your efforts and willingness to Stand."
From the sands, Zeyion was bitting her lower lip, watching nervously as the bronze makes a dash for Nicon. "Yes! Way to go Nic!" Hugging her brown tightly, Zeyion giggles happily as she watches Nicon impress. "He impressed love, he did!"
From the sands, Taylin watches as Nicon joins the others before turning to face the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman.
From the sands, M'an sends his Weyrwoman a satisfied look before stepping forward and gesturing as well. "Please gather around," he asks them - oh yes, though his voice is strong, it is very much a request rather than a command. Of course, it is his Weyr at the moment, so compliance is probably a good idea. Scanning the faces - some blank, some wet, some crushed and a few actually a little relieved, his own expression settles into lines of conviction and compassion.
From the sands, There's a subtle droop of disappointment about those bony shoulders, but you'd never know it from the rest of her: there's a wry half-smile hovering around Liaden's lips, a philosophical shrug, and a grimace as she lifts her scorched feet. She follows her peers toward the Weyrleader, then further off the sands.
From the sands, Taylin moves closer, quiet and more relaxed. Her smile doesn't waver nor does the please expression on her face.
From the sands, Vaethe trails a bit after Taylin, blinking at her pleased expression. "...You're very strong." Her voice is rather soft, not meant to reach farther than her. She glances up to M'an, then looks down at the ground, as if afraid to meet his eyes.
From the sands, Myr steps up to M'an, all bleary-eyed and teary, though she's trying her best to hold it back.
From the sands, Kh'dan waves his arms. "Okay, guys!" he calls to the Weyrlings, gathering their attention. "Let's head home and get your lovely dragonets set up right and proper in their own beds. I assure you, they won't be the only ones tuckered out soon enough."
Alizriel eases herself out of her seat, a hand to massage the small of her back. She waves her free hand in the air in hope of getting Aryion's attention.
Aryion smiles, still sitting there as the weyrlings leave with their new lifemates. Alizriel is finally noticed, a huge grin emerging upon his features. "Aliz! How are you?" A stern look is cast toward the gaggle of apprentices, before turning back with a warm look toward his old friend. "Did you see? She impressed... mine and.. Zeya's daughter impressed."
From the sands, M'an's eyes fall on Myr and something breaks in the back of his eyes for a split second before he wipes it away. The telltale tick in his left temple begins, however, betraying him. Nevertheless, his voice is soft and strong. "It has been a very trying night for everyone, but for none perhaps so much as yourselves. I know that many of you are disappointed, but I must remind you that simply being here is proof that you have the potential to be a rider. Not everyone finds their lifemate the first time - or the second - or even the third." At the last he nods to one of the older candidates, a caverns woman who's been through this a time or two already. "Fort Weyr has been very proud to have you among us. All of you." And now he glances briefly at Vaethe. "And we would be honored if you continued to stay among us. You are welcome to make the Weyr your home for as long as you like, whether you choose to Stand again or not."
Alizriel nods. "Yes, congratulations! She looks like she'll make a fine rider." She smiles slightly as she watches the apprentices mill about. Time goes by so fast...
From the sands, M'an glances over the much-decimated Candidate group again before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Now, however, you are welcome to join the feast in the living cavern. Please remember that those who have just Impressed have been good friends to many of you over the past months, and they still have need of your friendship. The bonds you forge now are not easily forgotten." There's the briefest pause. "I will be available to any of you who would like to speak to me. Now let's get off these Sharding hot Sands."
From the sands, M'an hurries off the burning sands towards the entrance's relief.
Aryion casts another stern look toward the apprentices, a few of them finally getting the message and settling down. "I had heard that you were the Smith up here, but I guess the times I came up to see Zey I kept missing you. I don't know if you heard, but Zeya... months after she left me, right after she had Zeyion in fact, she died in an accident. I only learned a few turns ago about our daughter." Gulping, he glances back toward the sands for a moment, then turns back with grin again. "Anyway.. sad tales for later. How have you been?"
Alizriel frowns in shock and concern. She edges a little closer to place a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Oh... Aryion... I'm so sorry. I guess I was just so busy with the move up here and all, I never heard. It's been going alright for me I suppose..."
Aryion offers her his charming grin, patting her hand softly. "Zeyion came to me about four turns ago, so the hurt is long past. I think even Zeya would be happy by what our daughter accomplished here tonight." Another smith journeyman who accompanied the group rounds up the all the youngsters, ushering them out toward the center bowl, leaving the old friends time to talk. "That's good to hear. There are several people here at Fort I still need to touch base with, you going to go to the party?"
Alizriel returns his smile, the frown smoothing from her forehead. "Yes, I think I will. Faranth knows I spend too much time in my workshop as it is..." She runs her fingers through her hair to dislodge the pebbles that had trickled into it earlier.
Waves of heat wash fleeting mirages across the burning sands, adding to the unreal sense of age combined with agelessness that breathes within the sweltering air. Cowed by the cavern's stony immensity, the galleries huddle near the bowl entrance, below the tiered ranks of viewing ledges that, come Hatching time, hold the matching ranks of dragons who cascade encouragement and welcome to the young lives that begin here -- /here/ -- amid the sweaty shuffle and grit of whispering sand.
You see Sands Logger, Aevaleth, Heavy and Opaque in the Void Egg, Waters of Nun Egg, Dawn of the Universe Egg, Daughter in the Sky Egg, Dreamtime Egg, Ineffable Heart of Brahma Egg, Life from the Dust Egg, Old-Man-in-the-Sky Egg, Eagle and Crow Egg, Feathered Serpent Egg, Tumultuous Embrace of Ophion Egg, Measuring String of Creation Egg, Creation in the Darkness Egg , Hand of God Egg, Big Bang Egg, Fallen Ymir Egg, Formless Tossed in the Sea Egg, Child of the Creator Egg, and Death of Tiamat Egg here.
From the sands, The dragons are humming, vibrating the entire Weyr with sound that is both pleasant and unsettling. The eggs haven't yet started to rock, but Aevaleth has taken up a position of watchfulness at the edge of the sands as if waiting for something to happen.
From the sands, Cairth's woodsy thrumm rumbles out as loudly as it can without breaking into a warble, poised at his customary place around the outer wall of the cavern. His head bobs and weaves anxiously, eyes coruscating a dizzying blizzard of colors. Standing beside the Weyrwoman, M'an tugs lightly at the collar of his undertunic, already having loosened his dressy jacket to half-open. By the sheen of sweat on his face, it'll be gone before too long.
"Excuse me, pardon me, oh, sorry there, didn't mean to step on your foot." T'san has an apologetic grimace still on his face as he makes his way from the ledges along a row to an empty seat, easing down into it and looking immediately at the sands. His face tells of his excitement, while Hith's hum mingles with the noise that all the dragons currently attending are making.
Balqis happens to be one of those whose foot was stood on, and she gives T'san a little glare. "Hey, watch it, greenrider! There's feet down there!" There's a playful twinkle in her eye though even if her face is stern-looking.
Ushering in a large group of nervous chattering Smithcraft apprentices, Aryion directs them all towards a large empty row, midway up the stands. "Now, we talked about this, we are here to cheer Zeyion on. You are all representatives of both Smithcraft and Benden Hold, so I don't expect any misbehaving. If I seen anyone done /anything/ that we talked about. You will be on forge duty for a month." Grunting, the large Smith takes his seat at the end of the row, blue eyes twinkling as he watches for the candidates to emerge.
From the sands, Edgar walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Taylin walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Tomi walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Zeyion walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Nicon walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Kh'dan walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Liaden walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Myr walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Vaethe walks onto the sands.
From the sands, Taylin steps hestitantly out onto the sands, stopping only once to bow to Sire and Dame as well as their riders before moving any futher towards the clutch. The closer she gets to the growing line of candidates the more sure she becomes, looking almost ready to face anything that happens.
From the sands, Myr steps onto the Sands with a determined expression hiding her nerves. She pauses briefly at the entrance, before the Candidate behind her nudges her forward and she walks with Vaethe towards the forming circle. A bow is made to the clutch parents, and then to M'an and Zinia, before she slips into place near to the gold egg.
From the sands, Kh'dan leads the Candidates onto the Sands, lips curved in a proud smile as he ensures they take their correct places around the clutch before joining M'an and Zinia. "What a group," he murmurs to the Weyrleader, sending him a sidelong glance. "I don't think I've seen this much promise in turns." Rubbing his hands gleefully, he awaits the show with an excited smile. Forty turns old, and right now he looks like a child in a candy shop. Or is that candie?
From the sands, Zeyion takes a deep breath, striding onto the sands, following her friends. Pausing, she completes an elegant bow towards the gold and bronze clutch parents, before bowing as well toward the Weyrleaders. Duty completed, gray eyes glance around nervously, looking for Taylin and Nicon, one hand extended toward each of them.
Balqis takes the stairs down toward the entrance.
Sarika has managed to find a seat closer to the front of the galleries and there she sits, her focus firmly on the sands.
From the sands, Liaden's gait is steady as she enters the sands; there's no shakiness in that slender form, and not a glance for those crowded stands. Her bow is exact, if a little wooden, and she fairly marches for her chosen spot on the sands, face blank, but gray-green eyes sparkling with the suppressed excitement that bubbles just below that pale skin.
From the sands, Tomi is a bundle of nerves. She can't help herself. Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. A bow of respect is given to both sire and dam and then Weyrwoman and Weyrleader before she shuffles off towards a corner of the Sands, following Taylin, Zeyion and Nicon. With a quick scan towards the galleries, the little candidate tries to locate her mother's beaming face. Big mistake. There's so many people. It's enough to make the little weyrbrat dizzy. The eggs are a much safer target. "Which one is your favorite again," she leans over to ask Taylin nervously, her tiny hand darting out to take the older girl's, trembling even with that everyday movement.
From the sands, Vaethe watches Myr for a second as she bows, then copies her, bowing to each of the clutch parents, then M'an and Zinia. She then follows after Myr, taking slow deep breaths as she walks across the sand.
From the sands, Nicon cautiously steps onto the sands, shoulders tense and drawn back as he preceeds forward with the remainder of the candidates. Upon reaching the clutching parents, he bows deeply, mindfully tugging at his robe to keep it in place before casting a brief glance toward the eggs. His jaws clench nervously, though his expression remains markedly clear of all emotion with the exception of a brief smile toward Zeyion as he takes her hand, extending it quickly to Taylin as they proceed toward the semi-circle of candidates.
Alizriel shifts a little restlessly in her seat, she simply couldn't sit in one place for long periods time like she used to. Her ear twitches slightly as it catches the sound of a familiar voice... Aryion?
From the sands, Edgar takes a deep breath as he steps onto the Sands, looking briefly down at the hot footing, and stops. Calmly, he offers individual bows to M'an, Zinia and to each of the clutchparents. Suddenly, though, his nervousness returns and he straightens up, appearing stiff. He looks over to Myr, trying to force himself to smile.
From the sands, Somehow the humming that shakes the Weyr seems more intense in the Hatching Caverns, amplified by the size of the cavern and the many dragons packing its ledges. The clutchsire stands near the back of the cavern, as has been his wont, although his slightly hunched spine and the bobbing motion of his head betrays something akin to anxiety as he hums deeply, eyeing the Candidates as they aproach his beautiful spawn. The Weyrleader's riding jacket has been slung carelessly over his left shoulder, and he uses his right hand to wipe the sweat glistening on his brow. M'an nods at the Weyrsecond when he leads the potentials in, a slight grin springing up as his eyes meet Kh'dan's. "It makes an old man hopeful," he agrees with the other bronzerider.
From the sands, Tumultuous Embrace of Ophion Egg shakes once, cracks forming along its shell before those bits fall away to reveal a large bronze. No time is lost as the dragonet makes for a boy from Crom with a pleading cry. "His name is Falth!" Satumble, now S'tumble, greets his new lifemate and the ageless scene upon the hatching sands begins to unfold.
Aryion smiles as the candidates emerge, one of the apprentices standing to shout out, "Look its Zeyion!" Cheering emerges from the Smith section, as Aryion adds his booming voice to the high pitched apprentices. "That's my girl!"
From the sands, Myr clasps Vaethe's hand nervously, while she's scanning to see where everyone else is standing. "Ed, are you nervous?" There's at least a blush on Myr's pallid cheeks now, so she doesn't look quite as sick as she did. "Do you want to hold my hand?" And then a squeak is given. "Oh, a bronze! Good luck!"
From the sands, Taylin claps loudly for the new pair "Bronze, that's a good start I've heard." Congratulations are called out before the candidates eyes return to the clutch.
From the sands, Dawn of the Universe Egg trembles in place. The tremble slowly building to a rocking and the rocking to determination. The contents are clearly eager to be free of all encasement. It doesn't take but a few more wobbles and it is done.
From the sands, Dawn of the Universe egg begins to shake, small cracks forming over its surface as it seeks to expand. All motion seems to stop before, all at once, the bits of shell are pushed outward and away, leaving the remnants scattered about the now exposed dragonet.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet
From the sands, Feline form and grace are echoed in the pert turn of knob and muzzle all dappled in alternating patterns of sand and loam like a harlequin's mask. Dusty amber smudges arched eyeridges against the backdrop of near black that traces his forehead. Blended earthen tones swathe his back and clothe his wings much like a coat of deep brown. The broad expanse of each 'sail carries a streak of gold amidst the fine veining and more stable structure, the color appearing again briefly along the thick length of his tail. His limbs are wiry rather than bulky, but that takes nothing away from the curved danger of the talons that tip each chocolate dipped paw.
T'san grins at Balqis before the first Impression catches his attention. "Bronze! The old rider's eyes are shining with the memory of his own Impression to the green whose clear voice hums even louder in welcome to the dragonets.
From the sands, "Bronze?! Bronze?!" Tomi's favorite egg held bronze. Well, it is a sign of good luck, but... "You were supposed to be a green," she accuses the newly hatched dragon before cheering for the quick Impression. "Well done S'tumble." S'tumble and Falth. A pair to stay away from during weyrling training, for sure.
From the sands, Edgar takes no time to grab Myr's hand and then replies, "Yes, I am and yes, I would like to hold your hand. Thank you." He likes a little bit of comfort to ease his nerves, but he soon forgets about his nervousness when he watches dragonets emerge from their eggs. "Did you see that bronze," he points. "They've already started impressing. Incredible." Now the man's in awe.
From the sands, Zeyion is glancing around, holding tight to her friends hands, when a loud cheer from the stands draws her attention. "Tay, its my dad!" A small wave is cast toward the Smith cheering section, the brown's emergence reverting her gaze to the sands. "Oh.. he's lovely."
From the sands, Taylin turns to look at the stands and misses the hatching of the brown, but she's all eyes when she turns back about to see him " Look Zey, that brown. Isn't he goodlooking fellow."
From the sands, Nicon blinks at the promptness of the first impression, though hardly a moment passes before a brown emerges into view. "Shards, this is.... this is nice." Catching himself at the last moment, he rotates his shoulders briefly, his eyes nervously twitching as he drops his glance to the girl's beside him. "Look at that brown.... nice."
From the sands, Myr turns to grin at Vaethe, "A bronze hatching first is good luck," she explains, before turning her eyes to the brown. "Oh, and look at him! He's a stunner, alright... don't you think so? Ed, Vaethe?" With both of her hands being clasped, she's not free to do much fidgeting - though her feet are moving.
From the sands, Cairth can't help but peal a subdued trumpet to greet his firstborn, and his second, as a strong pair set the tone for the clutch. M'an looks equally proud, his grin widening as the bronze finds a mate with no time lost. "Swift and sure," despite their names, "a good sign. You're right, Kh'dan. I think we can expect great things here."
From the sands, Vaethe clasps Myr's available hand back, and glances over to Edgar with a slightly blank expression. She then looks back to the brown, blinking a little as she studies it, her face slowly falling into a somewhat more relaxed expression.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet has made an entrance. Standing in the middle of the shells, he crans his neck towards both his parents. A soft croon is given before he examines himself. One wing lifts and is peered at. The other gets the same careful examination. A quick once over of the balance of this body and he is ready. He starts to make a step and stops. Eyes whirl as he considers just what he is looking for. Or perhaps make that a who? Determined steps carry him in one direction as he barrels through any not looking.
From the sands, Tomi's eyes wander to another cracked shell, her eyes widening at the appearance of the dashing brown. "Oooh," she gasps. "Beautiful." And the nerves fade in the pervading heat of the Sands, the little candidate begins the Candie dance. Left. Right. Left. Right. Were the Sands always this hot?
From the sands, Taylin squeezes Zeys hand "He's moving Zey, come this way." yanking on the hand instead of squeezing it now. It's not fear that grabs her, just well not wanting to be in the browns way "Look at him move, I thought they were all shaky and the likes when they just hatch."
From the sands, Old-Man-in-the-Sky Egg begins to shake, the shell falling away to reveal a green with a blunt muzzle that is then used to bump the midsection of a young Harper girl. A squeal of delight issues from the crafter as she announces her new lifemate's name as "Seath," but her name remains unchanged. So it is that Shelie takes on her new life within the Weyr.
From the sands, Edgar bobs his head at Myr, "So I've heard." He then notices the brown and smiles, "He's a looker, alright." He squeezes Myr's hand, though, as the excitement finally hits him. Candidate returns Vaethe's glance and shrugs, not understanding her blank look. His attention is taken away by an Impression, though. "Go her."
From the sands, Zeyion giggles, following as her friend drags her away from the direction of the brown. "Shards.. I'm coming, I'm coming. Nic... you are coming too." As she tugs on the older boy's hand as well.
From the sands, Kh'dan moves away from M'an, coming to S'tumble's side and gesturing for the young man and his new partner to follow. "Congratulations," he says warmly, leading the pair to where a number of helpers wait with buckets of meat for the newly Impressed. "A very impressive young fellow." Then it's back to the Weyrleader's side, curious eyes watching the brown to see where he will go. Well. Until Shelie Impresses Seath, and he's off to lead them to food. At least he gets to move around.
From the sands, "And a green!" Myr's looking more excited by the minute, and her grin's expanding. "Did you see that one? They all seem to know exactly where they want to go already! That's meant to be good... Where d'you reckon that brown's gonna go? Do you think he'll pick a boy or a girl?"
From the sands, Nicon merely stares at the brown, a sidelong glance snapped toward Zeyion as she tugs him away from their position. "What? Why do we need to move," he groans while trodding along, mumbling to himself as he follows the small group of girls.
From the sands, Vaethe stays perfectly still, letting the sands burn her feet as she frowns a little, staring off into the distance. "...Kind of late for speculation at this point, don't you think, Myr?" She continues to study the brown, a slight smirk edging onto her face for just a second.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet steps on one candidate and stops to peer down at him. This lasts for a split second for the lad is not who he seeks. Recklessly he moves on, wings almost hitting this one and that one has he passes. Time is of the essence. Where is the one he wants? His tail swishes angrily as he stops, surrounded by white moving 'not the one' types. A sudden movement catches his eye and he is off and running again, paying not the least bit of attention to anyone who gets in his way.
From the sands, Daughter in the Sky Egg trembles where it sits, nearly rocking from the mound on which it sits, but then falls still again.
From the sands, Taylin tugs again "Zeyion he's getting faster, let's move." The voice more demanding now, as things become very real. "I don't want to get stepped on that's why Nicon."
From the sands, Edgar shrugs at Myr, "I'm not sure who that brown wants. I'll tell you what, though, he sure isn't polite." Well, of course the dragonet wouldn't be, it's just a baby afterall.
From the sands, Tomi sends up another cheer. "Congratulations Shelie!" And Seath. What a lucky pair. As Taylin tugs Zeyion away from her, and Nicon follows, Tomi trails after the trio. Look, candie conga line. "Where are you going?" Not that she minds heading /away/ from the dragonets. They look awfully big for newborns. And those talons look awfully sharp.
From the sands, M'an frowns slightly, his vigil unrelieved by the necessity of movement, dark eyes locked on the young man who's been knocked about. "I don't see any blood," he comments over his shoulder to nobody in particular. "He looks well enough, just a bit shook. Pouncy thing, that brown. I hope the others are more careful."
Alizriel eyes the young girl from the gallery... Zeyion... yes she could she the family resemblance. Ah, bronze, brown and green! She smiles as Impressions are made, always amazed by the pairings. But what of that sly looking brown? A cavalier for sure. She watches and waits...
From the sands, Kh'dan returns to M'an's side, studying the same young man with complete unconcern. "He seems fine enough to me," the Weyrsecond replies dismissively. "No blood, and he's conscious." Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, he turns his gaze on the brown, following his progress. "Seems like he's got the idea now, at least."
From the sands, Myr squeaks, cringing as the brown dragonet stands on someone. "Oh, Faranth, is he ok? Oh, Faranth, I hope they're not all like that..." She looks at Vaethe, looking kinda confused, "But... Oh, I don't know," she says amicably, shrugging. "He is a bit boistrous, isn't he, Ed? But so lovely looking... I'll bet he's even more of a looker when he's grown up!"
From the sands, Zeyion continues to be pulled along in Taylin's wake, "Shards.. slow down! That brown has changed direction again." A quick glance is given toward Nicon, "You coming?" Reluctantly she plants her sandals in the sand. "Tay.. no more. We need to stay in one spot."
From the sands, Vaethe pose looks over to the candidate who got stepped on quickly, moving a step in his direction as she drops Myr's hand, but as she sees he's fine, relaxes a bit and steps back towards Myr.
From the sands, Daughter in the Sky Egg shudders again, the sides heaving as the ovoid's occupant struggles for freedom. Bit by bit, the effort begins to pay off and if the cracks in the shell are any indication, it won't be long.
From the sands, "No, Vaethe, you need to stay here," Myr says, clinging to the girls hand. "Lookit the gold egg... it's rocking, it's gonna crack soon... we're in the best place here I reckon to attract her over." But even as she says it, she looks more nervous that before, and only just manages to tear her eyes from the gold-tinted egg to watch the brown dragonet.
From the sands, Nicon moves no more, firmly planting his feet in the sands below while maintaining his grip of Zeyion's hand. "Why are you running?" he asks again while delving his feet in the sand to face the emerging dragonets while saying, "There's no sense in running, if they want you, they'll get to you."
From the sands, Big Bang Egg and Hand of God Egg both manage to hatch at once, and equally emerald greens burst forth from the shells to begin squabbling with one another. This goes on for several minutes before two siblings- brother and sister- step forward to attempt to end the argument. In all of the noise, it's hard to tell what names are called forward, but the waters have been calmed for now.
From the sands, Puss in Boots Brown Dragonet barrels through another small group of candidates. The white ones part like foam on the sea in his wake. Skidding to a halt he turns his head in frustration,, for the one he wants won't stay still. Deciding enough is enough, he again pushes aside another small group to find himself staring up into expressive gray eyes. yes, finally! The auburn hair and that elegant touch of white has him enthralled. A friend, a comrade, a life-partner. This and more he finds as he looks at Zeyion.
From the sands, Daughter in the sky egg shudders and shifts in the sand. Cracks form along the details of the shell and then begin to expand as that which is held within works to free itself. A glimpse of golden silk appears and all motion stills before, with a mighty *CRACK* the shell simply gives way.
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet
From the sands, Sun-bright gold makes its way over the pert form of knob to touch upon the youthful curve of head and muzzle, interrupted only by darker smudges above and below each eye. Honey hued streaks decorate the delicate curve of her neck and soft slope of ridges to land about her shoulders in a swirl of rich color that lightens over her throat. Imperial silk drapes and falls over the lightly muscled form of her torso, pooling at her flanks and swathing her limbs in patterned splendor that culminates in the trailing form of her tail. Pure white gold can be found in the cape-like expanse of her wings, the color interrupted by a feathered veining pattern that somehow softens the dangerous curve of spar and talon.
Balqis climbs up the stairs from the entrance.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at the brown dragon for a moment, but follows Myr's order, walking back to her side, staring at the brown for a moment longer, frowning as he gets closer to Zeyion, then relaxing as she sees he's impressed. She looks over to the gold, as if waiting for her to walk up to her. Ah, the arrogance of youth. Or Vaethe, whatever.
From the sands, Taylin steps away from Zeyion in time to see the gold hatch, but it's her friend that earns a smile first "Congrats Zeyion, he's splendid." Giving the pair room, Tay looks for a new hand to hold.
From the sands, Edgar opens his mouth to say something to both Myr and Vaethe, but nothing comes out. His eyes were following the brown dragonet, since he was so obvious and he noticed that it stopped at Zeyion. It's a great feeling with the Candidates who were closer to you when they Impress. "Zey," he raises his voice, "he's perfect for you." As he hears gasps, his eyes land upon the newly hatched gold, "Beautiful."
From the sands, Myr squeaks across at Zeyion, "Congratulations!" And then that gold egg cracks. And spills out a gold dragonet. "There she is," the girl exhales, trying to calm herself. "She's so beautiful, lookit her..."
From the sands, Zeyion blinks. Both hands letting go as she falls to her knees, hands reaching up to caress the muzzle of the brown dragonet before her. "Always... together. Iasath. His name is Iasath!" Crooning, the brown nuzzles her hands, the new weyrling giggling happily.
From the sands, Nicon releases Zeyion's hand at the moment of impression, a mixture of joy and dejection racing across his stern features. Gently, he places his hand across her back to nudge her forward, murmuring, "Go Zeyion, he is yours." As he steps back, his eyes drift toward the newly hatched gold then narrow onto the remaining eggs.
From the sands, Tomi had turned her head to watch the newborn brown pounce on some poor candidate, and therefore missed it completely when Nicon stops. "Oof," is muttered as the little candidate bounces off. Stumbling backwards, the excess cloth trips her up and she falls on her rump. Giving the trio a rather dazed look, she can only gasp as the brown goes barreling past her to find his lifemate with Zeyion. "Oh Zey! Congratulations!" And she waits with bated breath for the name. Ohly the gasps and excitement from the other girls on the Sands draws her attention towards the gold egg... that doesn't seem to be there any more. "Oh my," the little candidate gasps forgetting everything else. What hot sand? What ignoble position. There's only the newly hatched queen on the Sands.
From the sands, Kh'dan has to wonder no more. Fixing a bright smile on his face, the Weyrsecond approaches Zeyion, waiting patiently while she and her new lifemate share their first, all-important moments. "Congratulations," he murmurs gently, stretching out an arm to guide them to the side. "Come this way, food awaits your beautiful Iasath."
From the sands, M'an's eyes light up with peculiar pleasure as the brown seizes Zeyion in his gaze. "Excellent," he mentions to Kh'dan. "I was hoping her lifemate was here. I have plans for them in a few Turns." He can barely restrain from rubbing his hands together in glee. He does clasp them together emphatically as the queen hatches, this time finding Myr surreptitiously with his gaze. Oh, he's supposed to be impartial, but what parent can avoid hoping for the best?
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet looks about her, a nearly apologetic croon issuing before she takes her first tentative steps away from the remnants of her shell. A stumble sends her unsteadily down the hill, past another hatching egg, and into a group of girls that fall under her weight. Once she's figured out the ins and outs of movement, she steps back with an embarrassed croon and almost appears to bow several times. The sea of white calls, however, and it's time to find the one she was born for.
From the sands, Zeyion blinks, looking up toward Kh'dan. "Yes.. sir. Come on love." Quickly, the new weyrling and her brown make their way over toward the sidelines, collapsing together into a pile, as they watch the rest of the hatching unfold.
From the sands, Myr catches M'an's gaze, and gives him a big smile that shows plenty of teeth. But it only lasts briefly, because those nerves are bubbling up again. Cairth is held in her gaze for a few seconds, before she turns back to the gold and watches her first clumsy steps.
T'san watches the green and brown Impress with a smile, then stares at the gold intently. "Wonder who she'll choose," he murmurs thoughtfully, eyes darting over the female candidates.
From the sands, Taylin winces as the gold tumbles into a knot candidates "Whew, looks like she escaped with out being hurt." A hand reaches out for Nicon along with a smile "Safety in numbers right?"
From the sands, Measuring String of Creation Egg chooses this moment to hatch as well. This time it's a blue that is spilled forth onto the hot sands. Nearly rolling into one of the white clad bodies, he looks up with a stupefied expression and shakes his head. Did he do that? The boy, a young blonde lad from Fort Hold now named N'ap announces his joy in the form of a name. "Sleepyth!"
Aryion blinks, sitting there in silence as his daughter impresses the brown. The smith section erupts around him, first for Zeyion's impression, then for the emergence of the gold. Tears flow down the older journeyman's cheeks, as he simply sits in his seat, watching his daughter... the new browrider.
From the sands, Nicon stumbles forward several steps with the force, albeit meager, of Tomi as she reels into him. "What is going..." he twists his torso to catch glimpse of the smaller candidate as she drops to the fervent stands and, in a gesture quite unlike him, offers a hand to assist her up. "Be careful Tomi, don't hurt yourself," he quietly says while tucking his arms about his chest, dark eyes determined as they fix upon the dragonets.
From the sands, Vaethe frowns a bit as she watch the gold stumble, squeezing Myr's hand just the slightest bit. She glances to the blue for a moment, then looks back to the gold, her expression focused but not quite as certain now.
From the sands, Kh'dan pauses briefly on the sidelines to seperate the again squabbling greens, finally leading one of the 'twins' to the opposite side of the growing Weyrling class. Then it's back onto the Sands again to collect N'ap and Sleepyth, eyes holding amusement as he cups the boy's elbow to keep him on his feet. "Come along," he rumbles, guiding them to the others.
From the sands, Gift of the Goddess Gold Dragonet steps nervously over the sands, looking at each girl with whirling eyes as she attempts to make a selection. This one? No. That one? No. But where? Ever cautious she stumbles along, her talons making furrows in the sands as she cries piteously toward the group in general and then moves ever onward as if on the trail of something.
From the sands, Tomi comes to her senses as the heat once again makes itself known. "Sorry Nic," she offers by way of apology, looking rather stunned... and shamefaced, perhaps? Rising awkwardly with the assitance of the taller Bendenite, she moves over to stand beside him and Taylin, her eyes gone somewhat dreamy as she watches Zeyion lead Iasath off the hot Sands. "Shells, that was unexpected." The little blue's appearance isn't noticed right away, but as Impression is made, the little candidate cheers for the pair. "Congratulations N'ap."
From the sands, Taylin kicks her feet to free her toes of the hot sand while shifting from side to side "Shells my feet feel like their on fire." She's not complaining just stating the facts "Congrats Nap, he's a pretty blue just right for you." Her words are hurried as she turns back to watch the moving gold.
From the sands, M'an nods ever so slightly to his daughter from across the cavern, his expression a little stiff. His attention begs to focus on the gold dragonet, to see just who the Weyr will be looking to as a future Weyrwoman. Yet he's almost afraid to watch. Definitely getting too old for this kind of thing.
From the sands, Iasath croons softly, eagerly nuzzling Zeyion. "Soon, dear. I have to watch and see who else impresses. Don't worry love, it won't be long now." Snorting, the brown drops his wings, sulking but content to be caressed by his new lifemate.
From the sands, Edgar has a feeling that all eyes are on the gold dragon, especially since his eyes are on her too. He can't figure out why, since she's there for the girls. "She just has such pretty coloring," he notes to his 'partners', Myr and Vaethe. The man forces himself to look elsewhere, though, since there is so much still going on. A cheer then comes out of his mouth for N'ap, without him even thinking about it.
From the sands, What's this? Someone just as apologetic? Perhaps not as uncertain, but that can only be a plus. Sidling up to one small candidate, she leans against the girl companionably and croons as if in sympathy for the heat felt from the sands. Her home has been found in the form of a small candidate girl named Tomi.
From the sands, Nicon squints toward Tomi, languidly uncrossing his arms to extend his hands out to both Taylin and Nicon, before noting in a low murmur, "It wasn't expected, we all knew she would impress." There is a hint of hurt in his voice, which he hides with a brief cough before the gold approaches them and as it would seem to be the norm now, Tomi is impressed right besides him. "Tomi, um.....congrats!"
From the sands, Eagle and Crow Egg starts rocking with an intensity so fine it's nearly invisible, the motion visible only in the flecks of sand that shiver away from the shell. The rocking builds swiftly and surely.
From the sands, Eagle and Crow Egg can no longer contain its potential; the shell shivers as if caught in turbulent currents, sky-born tumult left in the wake of plummeting avians. There is a powerful shuddering and cracks appear along implied flight paths, zooming rapidly towards their terminus until the entire egg bursts apart in an explosion that might break the sound barrier.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet
From the sands, Lines of pewter writhe like arcane script over his bodys compact slenderness, obscuring the brightly polished bronze of his hide. A backdrop of shimmering twilight emphasizes vast wingsails that flash silvery white like billowing fey mists. Ridges do not march but flow down from the wide crown of his head, upon which the trailing edge of each crest is up-curved and inked-dipped as the tip of a calligrapher's brush. His knobs echo the narrow flute of his muzzle; all are rimmed in antique gold. The understated elegance of his form melds well with his uncannily deliberate movements, overshadowing the aberration of tailspades cleft.
From the sands, Taylin claps her hands "COngrats Tomi, she's splendid." Moving further from the new pairing Tayling just manages to catch the new bronze emerging.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at Tomi for a long moment, as if not entirely sure of what's happenning, then grins at her. She then looks back to the new bronze dragonet appreciatively, looking to Edgar for a moment. "...Yeah. Not the strongest spirit, though."
From the sands, Dreamtime Egg takes its own good time in hatching, lazily rocking and cracking as if it had all of the time in the world. Indeed, it would if the dragonet inside weren't insistent upon reaching the world outside. Yet another blue is revealed that stumbles toward a group of candidates and chooses one from amongst the crowd. "Daith!" N'ite calls out in rapturous joy.
From the sands, Edgar quickly looks around to see what most of the Galleries is cheering about. "What happened?" Someone points in the direction of the gold dragonet who is near Tomi. No, is that right? The man almost cannot contain himself, "Tomi, look! The gold! And you!" Someone needs to slap him. He quickly snaps out of it as Vaethe makes a note to him. A glance is given at the newly hatched bronze and he shrugs, "How can you tell?"
From the sands, Tomi just blinks as an unexpected warmth settles at her side. Looking down, her wide-eyed gaze meets the neverending depths of the little queen's gaze and the girl once again drops to the hot Sands. "Haseth? You're name is... Haseth!" Tears stream down cheeks still plump with baby fat as she looks around her. "Hungry, you're... oh or course you are." Rising shakily, she vaguely hears the cheers of congratulations around her. Please pardon her manners, she's just a little stunned.
From the sands, Kh'dan gapes. Really. He can't help it. Tomi? But... Sending an uncertain glance towards M'an, he shrugs slightly and approaches the new weyrwoman, eyeing her warily. "Well, Tomi, congratulations," he murmurs. "How about you and your lovely, ah, Haseth, join us?" With a slightly more easy smile, he motions for her to follow, pausing only briefly to collect N'ite and his blue.
From the sands, M'an passes a hand over his face, smearing the perspiration. He looks just a bit pale, and misses Kh'dan's look completely. Tomi. Oh, Faranth. He pastes a smile on his face for the shocked girl, knowing that she'll miss the nuances behind it in the distraction of her lifemate.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet remains still for a moment amidst the thoroughly shattered remains of his casing, blinking a few times as he inspects the shards. He knew that was going to happen, but it doesn't make it any less... abrupt. With a little shiver, he carefully raises himself to standing, canting his head from this side to that in a scanning motion.
From the sands, Zeyion watches as the gold snags Tomi as her lifemate, before cheering loudly! "Go Tomi! Haseth? Good name... Oh, there now, Iasath... I love you. But I am happy for my friend." Snorting again, the little brown is content to nuzzle for the moment.
From the sands, Nicon steps aside the newly impressed, a diminutive smirk upon his lips as his eyes drop to Tomi and the gold, the words, "Congratulations," murmured again as the lad lifts his arms anew to cross them across his chest and fixate his gaze onto the bronze that emerges. "Nice bronze," he mentions, shifting toward Taylin as he speaks to stand closely besides the girl.
From the sands, Taylin watches the bronze, head tipping to the left then all the way over to the right as if viewing him from all angels "He's a nice one, timid it seems but well put together."
From the sands, Vaethe shakes her head a little. "No, the gold. Good fit for Tomi, perhaps, but it makes me worry a little...." She shrugs equitably, and watches Dreamtime hatch, letting out a bit of a sigh as N'ite gets him. "...The bronze looks strong enough, actually."
From the sands, Tomi follows Kh'dan quickly to the side, missing completely the rather concerned look as she rests a entranced hand on the little golden neck, a comforting smile quirking up her lips as she reassures the hungry little queen that she shall feast as is her due.
From the sands, Edgar nods, "Oh, I see. That's too bad?" Though, he is sure the gold will be a strong asset to the Weyr. His eyes return to the bronze and nudges his fellow Candidate, "He does look like it. He also seems to almost be picking his person out without having to wobble around." If that's so, the man thinks that is smart.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet slowly stretches forth a wing, displaying width of misty sail still glistening from the egg fluids. Giving the edge a very deliberate flick, he sends a splotch of goo sailing across the sands, following its flight path visibly with his head and staring, fascinated, as it splatters against a young man's cheek. How very interesting. And yet, not quite right.
From the sands, Life from the Dust Egg rocks quietly in its place on the Sands, not quite ready to shatter, but judging from the cracks mazing across the shell, not far off from that fateful moment.
From the sands, Taylin could almost laugh at the way the bronze is acting but between the shifting of her feet and watching the impressions happen she really doesn't get a chance to "I think he'll either wander over for you or Edgar, either of you would be a good match for him."
From the sands, Vaethe stares at the bronze for a very long moment, then shakes her head a little. "...Guess he takes after Cairth." She sounds a little amused. She glances over to Life from the Dust, watching as it prepares to make it's way onto the sand.
From the sands, Amidst the backdrop of all of this, eggs rock and shells crack. Bronze, blue, and green go in search of their lifemates and the circle of candidates becomes thinner and thinner. A small crowd is now gathered near the entrance to the barracks and the supplies of meat are constantly refilled.
From the sands, Nicon grimaces as the air-borne egg-goo hits upon a unexpecting candidate's face, shifting slightly to accomodate for the gathering heat beneath his feet. Darting back to the bronze, then toward the eggs as they continue to shake, he draws another deep, steadying breath as Taylin's words. "Perhaps, but who knows who the dragons'll will choose." Eyes drift toward Tomi.
From the sands, Fey-Touched Prophetic Bronze Dragonet simply can't see what he wants from here. One forepaw follow the next with well-deliberated steps as he begins to move, passing decorously through lines of white. No, no, no. None of these fit the part at all. But this one... this one is definitely it. Tilting his head back, he sits on his haunches and lets his whirling eyes travel over Edgar.
From the sands, Taylin nods in agreement "Very true, very true. One can never tell what a dragon will find that they want in a certain person." More shifting from foot to foot as she looks down the dwindling line of those still standing before the ever shrinking clutch. "Look the bronze chose Edgar, see I knew it would be you or him."
From the sands, Vaethe blinks as the bronze approaches, then smiles a bit at Edgar. "You'll do well together, I think." That said, she turns her head back towards the sands and watches the eggs, crossing her arms against her chest.
From the sands, Life from the Dust Egg can't hold any longer - it doesn't stand a chance against the titanic forces tearing it down from within. With a last, long shudder, it splits asunder, shards raining all around as from the wreckage struts a bright, brilliant dragonet, announcing his presence to the world with an imperial bugle in his rich, commanding voice.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet
From the sands, Dying sunlight gilds bronzen flesh, turning hide from russet to a brilliant, flaming orange. Sunset's rays are captive within velvet hide, giving it a permanently tropical glow but for where twilight's fingers encroach upon the sun-seared stretches to the proud tip of his cobalt-tinted muzzle. Burnished hide sweeps back in growing growing brightness as it traverses the noble head with its deep-set eyes and intelligent cant, glinting almost golden by the time it spirals down long throat to rush across the muscular shoulders. The color lightens to near white where wings meet shoulders, branching off along stays pale as the driven snow while the skin that stretches lightly over the spars is a brilliant autumn hue. From wings on back, sun's light dies, deepening from aged gold to brandy along the tip of his tail.
From the sands, Edgar is only briefly distracted by the Life from the Dust egg, mostly because the bronze is just standing still. Doesn't look like he's planning on going anywhere, right? A fellow Candidate taps him on the shoulder to point at another disgusted Candidate with goo all over their face, "That's gross -" he pauses, almost not able to finish the last word, and falls to his knees, not even minding the scorching Sands. "You moved. And you came to me." Tears begin to flow down his face as he smiles wide and raises his voice, "He says his name is Ercelth!"
From the sands, M'an seems to have recovered from the, ah, surprise of Tomi's Impression, and is now beaming faintly as scores of dragonets and Candidates turn into a sea of Weyrlings. He likes Weyrlings. Every now and again he pauses in his smiling and nodding to search the Sands for Myr, a hint of anxiousness now furrowing his brow as he sees her still Standing. And then the Princely bronze bugles and he must take note: he's particularly interested in these bronze ones, for some reason. Biased.
From the sands, Taylin tugs on Nicons hand "Look another bronze, I'll lay a half mark that he takes to you." See she's pretty sure of herself, "Edgar got his and that one is for you, I'm sure of it."
From the sands, Nicon winces as the heat tears as the pliable fabric of his sandals, a muttered word about hand-me-downs made before he lifts his eyes to catch Edgar's impression. "You were right Taylin, should've bet on it, right?" he remarks with a smirk, his attention immediately upon the newest bronze as it emerges. "I knew that one would hatch a bronze, I could just feel it when I touched that egg," he says, his arms tightened about his chest, "We'll see, I don't think so Taylin.."
From the sands, Tomi looks towards the eggs and dragonets as cheers wildly go up around her. "Edgar! Ercelth!" Looking over towards Zeyion, the little weyrling just beams happily. "Can you believe this Zey? Did you ever think that we'd find ourselves here?" The introductory bugle catches her attention and the girl blinks again. So vocal already.
From the sands, Cairth bugles in response to his son. /He/ knew that was a bronze, too. It's good to be right. Now if only Aevaleth had let him drool on it some more...
From the sands, Zeyion is all dimpled smile now, one arm around her Iasath while the other waves and cheers for the impressions of her friends. "Edgar and Ercelth! Congratulations!" As the newest bronze emerges, gray eyes dart toward Taylin and Nicon. "That bronze is his... I bet." Blinking, she turns toward Tomi, nodding. "I can't believe it..."
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet steps from the wreckage of his former home, peering down at the shards with only a soft rumble of regret. But now, he is out, and it is time that he stop dreaming and start living the life he was meant to have. With careful, precise steps, he moves away from the shards of the eggs and begins to march towards the dwindling lines of white-ones with unusual grace for one so young. He has a duty to do, and he shall do it, no matter what that rumbling in his tummy tells him.
From the sands, Vaethe frowns a little, glancing over to Myr. The eggs are slowly dwindling at this rate, and contrary to her prediction, the dragonets haven't exactly been all over them....
From the sands, Nicon narrowly observes the bronze as he marches forward with a sense duty much like Nicon's. "Impressive," is all he manages, an approving nod given while he awkwardly shifts in the sands. Finding it difficult to accomodate to the heat, he continues to shift from either foot, though his eyes remain firmly fixed on the bronze.
From the sands, Taylin lifts her chin up "I just know it, I do." Her eyes glance from bronze to the remaining eggs.
Alizriel is startled awake from the shower of pebbles and sand on her head. Her face shines red, brighter than any ruby in her workshop. She honestly wasn't that old yet... was she?! The glint of brazen wings catches her eye. My that bronze is a dashing one.
From the sands, Ineffable Heart of Brahma Egg and Death of Tiamat Egg both hatch within seconds of eachother, spilling their respective contents onto the sands. This time a bronze and a brown move on to find their own lifemates. The brown nudges into a girl who squeels out a name "Hearth?" But C'ndie doesn't have to ask twice, she's found her future. The bronze, on the other hand, announces his own claim with a loud noise that's just a bit off key. "Belth!" There's no uncertainty from T'ako.
From the sands, Tomi motions Haseth closer.
From the sands, Edgar places his hand on Ercelth's neck and motions the dragonet to follow him to where the other Weyrling pairs are. He's so happy, though. "I'll be able to get you some food for that stomach of yours in just a little bit." Once they arrive to the edge of the Sands, he flashes a smile at Kh'dan.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet continues that miltary march along the lines, pausing to sniff at this boy, eye this girl, but taking no interest in any of them. No, no, no! This will never do. None of these are what he needs, none possess the discipline, or the strength, to aide him in his duties. Then something catches his eye, a rhythm that matches so closely to his own four-beat gait, and his head picks up, eyes whirling faster as he heads towards the distraction.
From the sands, Seeing that all the eggs have hatched, and only a bronze is left, Vaethe just stares for a very long moment, a slight smile tracing her face. She wipes her face with the back of her sleeve, and bites her lip, glancing over to Nicon and Myr.
From the sands, Zeyion beams as Edgar joins them with his Ercelth. "Oh, congratulations Edgar! He's a fine looking bronze." Iasath croons happily toward his clutchsibs, before butting Zeyion with his muzzle. "Shards, he's getting hungry. I wonder how much longer?" Gray eyes dart toward the bronze, holding her breath, just who is it going to go to?
From the sands, Taylin watches the last eggs hatch, and those hatchlings impress. Looking from Nicon to the bronze, she can now only wait for what she's betting on will happen.
From the sands, Nicon maintains his post as the bronze gathers speed across the sands. Although his eyes widen with apprehension, his face remains clear of emotion bar the barely discernible quiver of his lower lip. "That bronze can move, can't he, he'd be perfect in flights," he remarks, his shaky voice now betraying his stoic posture and quickly, he coughs to cover it.
From the sands, Prince in Golden Armor Bronze Dragonet can feel it, hear it, the cadence of marching. That sound of ultimate duty in the strike of sandaled feet against the Sands. He comes to a halt only a foot before a young man with cropped coppery curls. He pauses for a snort of dismay at seeing this Candidate, this one, in such ill-fitting clothing, but with steely gaze, nudges Nicon in the chest, determined that this is the one for him - despite his appalling sense of fashion.
From the sands, Taylin moves away from Nicon with a smile "See I told you." she whispers, adding "Congrats." Stepping further away, Tayling joins the other candidates still standing though unlike many her face is dry of tears.
From the sands, Vaethe stares at Nicon and the bronze, then follow Taylin off the sands after a moment, her face set stoically, but her eyes watering a little.
From the sands, Nicon tenses from head to toe as the bronze nears, his jaw thrust upwards as he places a firm glance upon the dragon. It begins with a smirk though then rises into an elated chuckle as he unfurls his arms to carefully drap them about the dragon's neck. "Food it is then, my dear friend," he says in a wistful voice, quickly straightening to promptly ask, "Campeoth needs some food, immediately.... please."
From the sands, Kh'dan returns Edgar's smile, then approaches Nicon, pride shining in his face. This one, after all, was a prime catch for Nyrloth. "Congratulations to you and Campeoth," murmurs the Weyrsecond, moving to lead both lad and dragonet from the Sands, to join their fellow Weyrlings at their feast.
From the sands, Zinia steps forward, clapping her hands as the last of her dragon's brood impresses. "Good matches, all," she announces as she glances over the weyrlings. To the candidates left, she motions for them to gather round M'an. "The Weyrleader would like a word with you before you go to join the feast, but I want to thank all of you for your efforts and willingness to Stand."
From the sands, Zeyion was bitting her lower lip, watching nervously as the bronze makes a dash for Nicon. "Yes! Way to go Nic!" Hugging her brown tightly, Zeyion giggles happily as she watches Nicon impress. "He impressed love, he did!"
From the sands, Taylin watches as Nicon joins the others before turning to face the Weyrleader and Weyrwoman.
From the sands, M'an sends his Weyrwoman a satisfied look before stepping forward and gesturing as well. "Please gather around," he asks them - oh yes, though his voice is strong, it is very much a request rather than a command. Of course, it is his Weyr at the moment, so compliance is probably a good idea. Scanning the faces - some blank, some wet, some crushed and a few actually a little relieved, his own expression settles into lines of conviction and compassion.
From the sands, There's a subtle droop of disappointment about those bony shoulders, but you'd never know it from the rest of her: there's a wry half-smile hovering around Liaden's lips, a philosophical shrug, and a grimace as she lifts her scorched feet. She follows her peers toward the Weyrleader, then further off the sands.
From the sands, Taylin moves closer, quiet and more relaxed. Her smile doesn't waver nor does the please expression on her face.
From the sands, Vaethe trails a bit after Taylin, blinking at her pleased expression. "...You're very strong." Her voice is rather soft, not meant to reach farther than her. She glances up to M'an, then looks down at the ground, as if afraid to meet his eyes.
From the sands, Myr steps up to M'an, all bleary-eyed and teary, though she's trying her best to hold it back.
From the sands, Kh'dan waves his arms. "Okay, guys!" he calls to the Weyrlings, gathering their attention. "Let's head home and get your lovely dragonets set up right and proper in their own beds. I assure you, they won't be the only ones tuckered out soon enough."
Alizriel eases herself out of her seat, a hand to massage the small of her back. She waves her free hand in the air in hope of getting Aryion's attention.
Aryion smiles, still sitting there as the weyrlings leave with their new lifemates. Alizriel is finally noticed, a huge grin emerging upon his features. "Aliz! How are you?" A stern look is cast toward the gaggle of apprentices, before turning back with a warm look toward his old friend. "Did you see? She impressed... mine and.. Zeya's daughter impressed."
From the sands, M'an's eyes fall on Myr and something breaks in the back of his eyes for a split second before he wipes it away. The telltale tick in his left temple begins, however, betraying him. Nevertheless, his voice is soft and strong. "It has been a very trying night for everyone, but for none perhaps so much as yourselves. I know that many of you are disappointed, but I must remind you that simply being here is proof that you have the potential to be a rider. Not everyone finds their lifemate the first time - or the second - or even the third." At the last he nods to one of the older candidates, a caverns woman who's been through this a time or two already. "Fort Weyr has been very proud to have you among us. All of you." And now he glances briefly at Vaethe. "And we would be honored if you continued to stay among us. You are welcome to make the Weyr your home for as long as you like, whether you choose to Stand again or not."
Alizriel nods. "Yes, congratulations! She looks like she'll make a fine rider." She smiles slightly as she watches the apprentices mill about. Time goes by so fast...
From the sands, M'an glances over the much-decimated Candidate group again before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Now, however, you are welcome to join the feast in the living cavern. Please remember that those who have just Impressed have been good friends to many of you over the past months, and they still have need of your friendship. The bonds you forge now are not easily forgotten." There's the briefest pause. "I will be available to any of you who would like to speak to me. Now let's get off these Sharding hot Sands."
From the sands, M'an hurries off the burning sands towards the entrance's relief.
Aryion casts another stern look toward the apprentices, a few of them finally getting the message and settling down. "I had heard that you were the Smith up here, but I guess the times I came up to see Zey I kept missing you. I don't know if you heard, but Zeya... months after she left me, right after she had Zeyion in fact, she died in an accident. I only learned a few turns ago about our daughter." Gulping, he glances back toward the sands for a moment, then turns back with grin again. "Anyway.. sad tales for later. How have you been?"
Alizriel frowns in shock and concern. She edges a little closer to place a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Oh... Aryion... I'm so sorry. I guess I was just so busy with the move up here and all, I never heard. It's been going alright for me I suppose..."
Aryion offers her his charming grin, patting her hand softly. "Zeyion came to me about four turns ago, so the hurt is long past. I think even Zeya would be happy by what our daughter accomplished here tonight." Another smith journeyman who accompanied the group rounds up the all the youngsters, ushering them out toward the center bowl, leaving the old friends time to talk. "That's good to hear. There are several people here at Fort I still need to touch base with, you going to go to the party?"
Alizriel returns his smile, the frown smoothing from her forehead. "Yes, I think I will. Faranth knows I spend too much time in my workshop as it is..." She runs her fingers through her hair to dislodge the pebbles that had trickled into it earlier.
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