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.

The Wisdom of the Elders

Living Cavern
Flawlessly carved archways highlight the uniform walls that extend upwards into the cavern's near total darkness above. The night hearth abides beside the largest egress, while along the northern span a handcarved staircase ascends into the kitchens. To the east a dais supports the long Weyrleaders' table; smaller table-boards align the walls nearby. The heart of the room is distinguished by gray flagstone flooring, whose skillfully interlocking slabs have been worn level by the passage of countless bootheels through the ages.

It's amazing how dirty weyrfolk can be. Tomi just boggles as she goes from one table to another, scrubbing at spilled food and drink left over from dinner. Is that redfruit juice there? And that spot, Benden white? The little candidate wrinkles her nose as she wipes clear the remnants of wherry stew and crumbs of bread. At some place settings, she just has to boggle. Did food even reach the rider's mouth? Rinsing out her rag in the bucket of washwater she carries with her, she moves on towards the Notus table.

In the postprandial lull, M'an has retreated from the Leader's table and taken up a more comfortable seat near the night hearth. A number of riders come and consult with him there, one at a time or occasionally in small groups; the conversation doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, and the rest of the weyrfolk barely glance over. In time the visitors dwindle and the Weyrleader is left alone with his steaming mug of nasty-smelling tea and smoldering embers. He appears to like it that way, too.

Tomi saves M'an's table for last, watching the weyrleader out of the corner of her eye as she quickly wipes down her portion of the tables in the Living Cavern. It's just her luck that the Weyrleader chose a table in her section to ponder whatever Weyrleaders ponder while situated next to a dying fire. And as fervently as she wishes, he doesn't seem to be inclined to move. "Weyrleader M'an," the little candidate squeaks shyly towards the bronzerider, trying to remember her manners so as to avoid irritating the big bad wolf in any way. "I'm sorry, but I need to wipe down this table. I'll be quick, sir, I promise." She twists the rag between her small hands, looking rather un-Tomi-like. Where's the bold girl that gets into fistfights with the boys? Or the adventurous weyrbrat that puts crawlies in people's shoes?

It takes M'an more than a moment to respond; in fact, it almost seems as if he's fallen asleep, for he jerks his head back a bit and gives it a little shake before lifting it to blink over at the smallest Candidate. "Hm? Oh." His voice is very soft, as deep as always, and sounds tired - so tired he's not even bothering to hide it. "Of course, Tomi." A long arm reaches long fingers to curl around the mug and draw its noxious contents to his chest, while his other hand seizes the few hides he'd collected from his cronies and underlings. "Please, go ahead."

The little candidate does a quick but thorough cleaning of the wood in front of the Weyrleader first before moving on to the rest of the table. Finally finished with her chore, Tomi drops the rag back into her bucket and makes to leave, only something stops her. For some reason M'an doesn't seem as terrifying tonight. He sounds old, and tired... and old. The lack of spryness that the little candidate is used to has her standing worriedly to the side of the rider as she screws up her courage enough to ask, "Weyrleader M'an, is everything okay?" There's probably nothing that she can do to help, but she feels compelled to offer anyway. It rather frightens her to think that a scion of the weyr can look so incredibly mortal.

M'an is either an indomitable tyrant or a fallible old man, and Tomi can't decide which she wants him to be? That's so unfair. Fortunately, the bronzerider stopped expecting life to be fair a long, long time ago. Again, his response is delayed, making it seem doubtful that she was even heard. But no, after a drawn-out sigh he turns to look at the Candidate. The skewed light from the fire throws his wrinkles into high-relief, makes the shadows around his eyesockets even deeper, so that only the faintest gleam can be seen from their walnut depths. Though it's faint, it does radiate warmth, and there seems to be the slightest upturn at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, Tomi," he says mildly, "Everything is okay for now. Is everything okay with you?" And you know, it sounds like he really wants to know, like your favorite old Uncle.

It's not Tomi's fault, M'an's strict and tossing Candidates out willy-nilly one moment and then quietly pensive the next. She's young and everything's black and white to the little Candidate. Well, everything but the Weyrleader. He seems to stubbornly slip from one category to the other with deceptive ease, an ease that catches the poor candidate off-guard. So before she knows it, she's dropping down with a soft sigh next to the bronzerider and sharing all of her teenage worries. Poor M'an didn't know what he was getting himself into. "No it's not," the tiny candidate replies mournfully, shoulders slumping with her confession. "I don't understand boys, Weyrleader. Why are they so dumb?" Yeah, Tomi claims no fault in her little dispute with her best friend because that might mean that she was wrong. And Tomi hates to be wrong. "I mean, how would Aoifen like it if I went and kissed his friends? I bet he'd be mad. Wouldn't you be mad, sir, if Weyrwoman Zinia went around kissing other riders?"

M'an stifles the sigh that springs to his lips yet again. He thought he'd left teenage worries behind him Turns ago, but recently discovering a daughter has brought home the point that he's completely out of touch with the little devils. In that light, he turns a sympathetic ear to Tomi, propping his chin in his hand and leaning on the arm of his chair towards her. "Boys take a lot longer to grow up than girls do, generally," explains the Weyrleader. He should know, he was one. "I have a feeling that he would be mad if you kissed his friends. But that doesn't mean he's smart enough that you'd be mad if he kissed yours." Now he's smiling openly, if faintly. "And I have to admit that I'm not mad at all when Zinia goes around kissing other riders. After all, I'm old enough to be her grandfather, and who wants to kiss their grandfather?"

Silly M'an should know better than to ask a teenage girl how she's doing. Especially one as vocal as Tomi is. Ah well, perhaps next time he'll think twice before asking how the little candidate is faring. Still, the wisdom that he imparts to the tiny blonde has not gone amiss as aquamarine eyes light up with gained understanding. "Aoifen is awfully immature," she nods her head emphatically. Pot. Kettle. Black. "And he's never been kissed before so I guess maybe he doesn't know about not kissing my friends." Looking much happier than she has for days, impulse drives the little candidate to lean over and give the Weyrleader a quick peck on his weathered cheek. "I'd kiss you like that all the time, sir, if you were my grandfather." She sits in silence a moment and then asks worriedly, "Sir, if someone told you a secret and you accidentally told someone else that secret, do you think that would mean the person who told you that secret would be mad and not want to be your friend anymore? Even if you didn't mean to tell?"

As tender childish lips land on his grizzled old cheek, M'an blinks a few times, and the small smile that had been playing about his mouth grows a little bit. "Well, I appreciate that, Tomi," he says with grave warmth. "I think I envy your grandfather all those nice kisses." On the matter of secrets, he "Hmmmmm"s and thinks a bit. "I think it would depend on what kind of secret it was, and who I'd leaked it to. Sometimes you have to tell secrets to keep people safe." Stodgy Weyrleader, always getting concerned about Pern's seedy underbelly. He needs to lighten up. "But it doesn't sound like it was that kind of secret, if you didn't mean to tell it. I'm sure that if you explain that it was a mistake, and learn to be more careful, they'll forgive you." Pausing, he nods at his own widsom. "In fact, if they're worth being friends with, they'll forgive you. If they don't, then I would find a new friend."

Tomi looks rather disgruntled at the advice. It started out so promising, the little candidate even nodding in agreement a time or two. But then the Weyrleader mentioned finding new friends. "But sir," the weyrbrat counters worriedly, "I'm running out of friends as it is. Risly won't talk to me anymore, but that was okay because she wasn't my bestest best friend. That was Jasen, but then he started kissing Elisabeta and he said he was too grown up to be friends with me. That he had more important things to do. What's more important that having snowball fights with your best friend? But I didn't mind because I met Aoifen and he was a bajillion times more fun than Jasen ever was. Only then he started making googly-eyes at Zeyion and I got really mad and yelled at him. And it was my Turnday, too. And now I accidentally told Nicon that Zeyion likes him and what if she won't be my friend anymore?" Tomi's beginning to believe that she's going to have to go through life friendless. Why did no one ever mention that growing up was so very, very hard?

Oh, people mention that growing up is hard quite frequently, but the young never listen. M'an knows this is so, because he gave up on trying to convince youngsters Turns past. "Ah, you told Nicon that Zeyion likes him? Well." He treats the subject matter with all the courtesy of a major Holder conclave, though fond humor simmers in the depths of his dark eyes. "She may not realize it, Tomi, but if Zeyion really likes Nicon, she'll be much happier in the long run if he knows about it. Because we boys are so dumb, you see, we don't realize that girls like us until someone tells us. And then we can start thinking about whether or not we like them back. So without people like you, to tell us these things and make us realize how dumb we are, people would never get together in the first place." Well, there's always greenflights, but that's not the same.

Why did Tomi ever think that M'an was scary? It's hard to reconcile the very disciplined Weyrleader with the kind soul sitting next to her, so the little teenager gives up trying. Instead, she absorbs his wisdom, letting it sink in and fill her young mind until her bright aquamarine eyes fairly dance with the possibilities. "Yeah," she agrees solemnly, "Boys are dumb. But not you, Weyrleader," she tacks on quickly, eyes widening a little at the little faux pas. "I guess bronze dragons only pick the non-dumb boys because Weyrsecond Kh'dan's not dumb either." Ah, the misconceptions of youth. "D'you think if Nicon Impressed bronze he'll realize that Zeyion's really, really nice and then kiss her? Because when I accidentally told him, he kinda ran away, sir." And Tomi may be young, but she figures that running away is never a good sign.

The Weyrleader pauses a moment here to ruminate on how best to explain young interpersonal interactions to this charmingly naive girl. He doesn't want to think about what his life will be like if she Impresses. "One thing you may not realize, Tomi, is that dumb boys find smart, pretty girls like yourself and Zeyion absolutely terrifying." As she absolves him of this stupidity, he bobs his head in grateful acceptance. "I don't think Impressing bronze will help Nicon get over that fear, unless his lifemate happens to be especially perspicacious. You see, when we're around smart, pretty girls, we boys are suddenly aware of how very stupid we are, and how clumsy and ugly, compared to you. We feel... awkward and embarrassed. Sometimes we run away. Sometimes we pretend not to care. But really, we're just afraid that you won't like us, because we are stupid and clumsy and ugly." He's not entirely certain she's ready for these truths, but there's no time like the present to grow up.

"What do you mean," Tomi asks, wide-eyed and just a wee bit lost. "Nicon's not stupid or clumsy or ugly. I mean, sure he won't go catch trundlebugs with me, but that just makes him boring." And boring definitely wasn't on the list. "And Zey thinks he's handsome, she told me so." Pause. "Maybe I should tell Nicon that, then he won't be afraid!" Beaming up at the Weyrleader, the small candidate looks rather pleased with herself as she sets her legs to swinging in front of her happily. Only to pause. Then ask curiously, "What's per... persm... perspeckmacious, sir?" It's such a big word. Maybe weyrleaders have to know words like that just to impress the Lords and Masters that he has to rub shoulders with.

From the shadows of the bowl a figure emerges, the form of a girl who is not yet a woman. As Zeyion steps into the light of the living caverns, several things are very quickly revealed. Slightly puffy eyes, a thoughtful expression, and hands both stuck in her pants pockets, all clear signs of contemplative thought. Eyes still downcast, this particular candidate weaves through tables toward her destination, the night hearth, anyone and anything in her way for the moment almost completely ignored.

Maybe more Weyrleaders need forty Turns with not much to do but read old records from Landing. "Perspicacious means perceptive, able to see and understand things clearly, especially the hearts and minds of others." M'an shakes his head slightly at Tomi's desire for further intervention: "Part of being successful in interacting with others is knowing when to say things, and how much to say. You've already gotten the ball rolling, Tomi. Let them have time to think about things and they'll start discussing it on their own. They're both good people, so have some faith in their ability to interact with each other. And besides," he breaks into a grin, "if you don't stick your nose in anymore, they can't blame anything more on you." CYA, my friend.

"Ah," the little candidate finally nods her head in understanding. "Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had a permesacious lifemate. It would make things a whole lot easier, don't you think?" Tomi settles into a sulk at M'an's further words, but the weyrbrat has to admit that he's spoken nothing but wisdom up until this point, so he's probably right with his advice to just let things be. "If you say so," she murmurs sullenly, tacking on an almost forgotten, "sir." She pauses as a fierce scowl crosses her features and a little fist balls up. "But if he hurts her, I'm gonna pummel him." Pause. "Sir." The little candidate would like to say more about the bodily harm that poor Nicon would likely have to endure, but her light eyes catch a movement and she turns towards the entrance to the bowl in time to see a rather forlorn Zeyion making her way towards them. Popping up, she rushes to her friend. "Oh my gosh, Zey, are you okay? I'm sure they didn't mean to hurt you, they just didn't know right. And they all felt really, really bad. So please don't cry anymore because your daddy loves you and sends you the best Turnday presents." Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

Zeyion was in mid-stroll toward the hearth when she gets rushed by her friend, gray eyes widening as it seems that Tomi is just /there/ before her. A small smile cracks the corner of her drawn lips, her shoulders rising in a shrug. Voice is calm and maybe a touch cool. "Its okay. I... ah... know, it wasn't anyone's fault, except maybe my own for letting something that harmless get to me. I stopped crying right about the time that Nicon found me." A knowing look is cast toward her fellow candidate as she slides by her, finishing her walk toward the hearth to collect a sweetroll and klah. She offers the Weyrleader a respectful nod and a brief, "Evening Sir," before turning back to face her friend. "I /talked/ to Nicon... he told me."

M'an's lips are sealed. "Good evening, Zeyion," he greets the Candidate solemnly, giving absolutely no hint of the conversation which had transpired just prior to her entrance. Settling back into his comfy chair as he is released from explanation duty, the Weyrleader takes slow sips of his ubiquitous, foul-smelling tea as he watches the teenaged drama unfold. It's better than television.

Eep. "Nicon found you?" So the other candidate wasn't hungry after all. And then Zeyion's look and words sink in and Tomi just pales, her features turning ashen with apprehension. "I'm sorry Zey, I really am! I didn't mean to say anything, it just slipped out because he was being really, really dumb and he kept saying stuff and I got mad and it just slipped out." Looking rather scared, the little teenager tries to beg forgiveness. "Please don't hate me, Zeyion. Weyrleader M'an said that it was good that I told him because Nicon's stupid and ugly and clumsy on account of the fact that he's a boy and really, really afraid of pretty girls like you. But now that he knows, Nicon's sure to like you back. And if he doesn't, we just have to hope he Impresses a bronze because that'll make him promiscuous."

Standing there with her food, Zeyion keeps her expression quite neutral as she listens to Tomi. Although the comment about a promiscuous Nicon finally does make the candidate smile. "Oh /shards/ Tomi, I'm not mad at you, I was wondering what you would do. Come and sit down. Bet you were fretting something fierce about it, if you spoke to the Weyrleader." Shaking her head, a twinkle returning to her gray eyes, Zey plops down at the nearest table, waving a mug toward an empty seat. "Nicon and I had a rather, strange, talk. But things are out in the open between us. I am not sure what is going to happen." A bite of the 'roll is eaten followed by a sip of klah. "Oh, that's good, you had one of these yet? Wish I could cook."

If Tomi happens to glance M'an-wards, she'll catch his 'see? everything's working out just like I said it would' expression. He makes no move to enter the conversation, though, instead flipping idly over a few sheaves of paper and thinking very loudly that nothing had better happen, seeing as they're Candidates.

"Shells Zeyion," Tomi complains as she plops down near her friend, "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you'd be really, really mad. I'm glad that you're not, though. What did he say, did he make you cry?" Because if he did, his face is going to have a run in with Tomi's fist. Almost as if on its own volition, the little candidate's relieved gaze drifts M'an-wards and does indeed see the Weyrleader's know-it-all expression. As she ponders just how smart Weyrleaders have to be, she returns her attention towards her fellow candidate. "I don't. All that cutting and mixing and stirring and no matter how much I try, everything always turns out burnt." So hardly worth the effort at all.

Zeyion grins, finishing offer her 'roll in a few more bites, sighing at the taste. "And no, Nicon did /not/ make me cry, I did that all on my own. From /before/..." Offering her friend a shrug, the girl sips her klah, both hands wrapping around the mug to absorb some of the drink's warmth. "I was in the galleries, where we found you that day, ironically enough. It was an interesting conversation, he said that it was a big deal to him since really no one else has ever admitted it to him. I doubt that nothing will come of it," eyes flick toward M'an very quickly, "I mean, I don't expect to impress, I'm sure he will, a bronze or a brown at the very least. Then I'll go back to Benden Hold and he will continue on here." A tired grin is directed toward Tomi, followed by a yawn. "Oh my, this has been an eventful day. I'm headed back toward the barracks. I suppose I'll see you there later?" Finishing up her drink, Zey stands, dropping the mug off in its proper place, a grin toward Tomi, a respectful nod toward the Weyrleader, and the candidate slips back down toward the lower caverns.

M'an may have looked like he was doing Weyrleaderly business, but he had an ear cocked towards the girls. Not close enough to get any details, he does at least note that no screaming or crying was to be heard. As he nods in return to Zeyion's departure, he glances over at Tomi. As soon as her friend has departed, his eyebrows lift expectantly. And....?

"He said it was a big deal?" Well that's promising right? Right? "I wish I had a promiscuous dragon right now," Tomi mutters. "Then I'd know what Nicon was thinking." Blink. "Oh no, no, of course you'll Impress Zeyion," the little candidate counters. "Any dragon would be lucky to have you as a lifemate. Even M'an agrees. He said you were pretty and smart and he knows because he's really smart. He knows all these big words that sound really, really impressive but mean the same thing as simpler words. I want to know lots of words for the same thing too," the little candidate decides. Blinking distractedly as she seems to have gone off on another Tomi-tangent, the candidate waves to her friend. "Yes, I'll be there soon." She just has a little unfinished business. Rising carefully, she makes her way back towards the Weyrleader practically bouncing in her joy. "Oh sir, you were right. She wasn't mad at all! She's really a good friend." Plopping down next to the bronzerider again, she does add a little worriedly, "But Nicon didn't say that he likes her in return. He said it was a 'big deal' whatever that means. Why doesn't he like her, yet? After all, she's really nice and pretty and fun. He's lucky that he caught her eye."

"He said it was a big deal, eh?" M'an nods knowingly, as if something's just been confirmed. "That's very important, if he admitted that. Most boys would rather stick their heads in wherrydung than admit that something's a big deal. It's not considered 'cool.' I would posit that Nicon isn't sure how he feels about Zeyion's attention - remember, she's scary to him - but that it means a lot to him that she would feel that way. You know, it's a big compliment when a girl like Zeyion likes you. You're right, he's very lucky. He may even realize that, and thus wants to proceed slowly, to ensure that he doesn't mess everything up." It's somewhat weird, the way that strategy seems inextricably mingled with politics in the Weyrleader's theories, no matter how innocent the subject matter.

"Really, you think so, sir?" Tomi takes heart in the Weyrleader's words, her face brightening considerably. And then dims slightly. "So I have to wait and see?" Pout. The little candidate /hates/ to wait, and patience certainly isn't her strong suit. It's amazing that she's not a nervous wreck when it comes to the eggs on the Sands, but perhaps that's due to the fact that the girl doesn't really believe that her lifemate is out there, waiting for her. "But I just want them to be happy, sir. And I think that they could make each other really happy." Slumping, the little candidate barely stifles a yawn. Blinking blearily, she rises slowly and covers yet another yawn. "'M sorry sir," she apologizes blearily. "It's been a long day. 'M gonna sleep now. But thank you, sir. Thank you for caring." Tomi's seen, if only briefly, more than one characteristic of a strong leader. Wisdom, yes. But more importantly, caring. With just giving her a moment of his time, M'an's made an ally for life.

"Nothing's more important than caring, Tomi," replies the Weyrleader in a voice that simply aches with the weight of truth. "And I care about this place and the personalities in it - human and dragon alike - more than anything else in the world." A soft smile gentles his words without dulling the intensity of feeling behind them; then one lanky arm unfolds to tousle the little blonde's hair in much the same way she's seen him do to any number of the weyrbrats - though she's the first girl he's done it to. "Now go to bed, kiddo. I want you fresh and perky for laundry duty in the morning."

Secrets Revealed...

Candidate Barracks
This vaguely rectangular room contains cots, cots, and more cots, which either stand in neat, pristine rows, a clothespress at each foot, or in jumbled confusion, depending on the current residents. Metal brackets mark the smooth walls every four cotlengths, hosting shieldable glows that, when open, shine gentle circles on the low ceiling and worn floor. A desk holds a prominent place at the back of the room, opposite the lower caverns' exit and below the large slateboard that lists the room's 'occupants' and their assigned chores. Beside the slate hangs a wide 'tackboard', pinned full of important notices for the candidates to read.

Myr follows Nicon's progress through the barracks, and offers him a little smile before a, "G'day, Nicon." And then her attention shifts back to Edgar. "You got weeds this morning? Eew, that's not a nice chore. It makes your nails really dirty underneath, doesn't it? And they're just /so/ hard to clean afterwards." Her walnut-brown eyes roll, but then she chuckles. "And yes, Zeyion, I do have gossip..." She looks around the barracks to check who's there, before her gaze falls on Liaden and one eyebrow quirks upwards, questioning. Shrugging, her attention is focused back on Zeyion. "You know that Farmer girl, Paliana, that was Searched? Tall, big boobs, kinda plump? Well, apparently, she'd just given birth to a child right before she was Searched, and she just upped and left it at the cothold she was working in, and it only a few days old! Esmrina told me that." Esmrina being a well-known gossip.

Nicon grunts his response, hardly bothering to vocalize a greeting as he opens the clothepress and hastily deposits his rucksack into it, closing it just as quickly as he opened it. With an exasperated sigh, he drops into his cot, stretching his legs across the full length of it and tucking his hands firmly behind his head; though through the corner of his eye, he keeps a firm watch on Myr as she speaks, only the faintest glimmer of interest visible through his dark gaze and a dark chuckle heard at the girl's predicament. "So what happened to the babe? She's just going to leave it and hope to impress here?" he asks aloud, his gaze now fixed onto the ceiling above.

Edgar nods his head and sighs as he replies to Myr, "I sure did. I'm already feeling sore from hunching over for so many hours." He looks at his hands. Still dirty. "You're right. I thought I scrubbed all the dirt away." Candidate sighs again. "That's so gross." He places his hands on his lap and tries not to look at them. Another odd look is sent Nicon's way, but he turns his attention back to the girl beside him as he shakes his head, "How awful." The man sounds concerned, but he probably shouldn't be, since gossip, is well, gossip.

Zeyion is astounded, gray eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "She /didn't/! Oh how horrible, I knew there was something funny about her, first time I met her the day she arrived. How could a mother willingly leave a child?" Sitting up, Zeyion crosses her legs, scooping up her green to put in her lap, a mixture of horror and repulsion upon her features. "Its not right." Liaden is regarded thoughtfully, one hand sweeping her auburn locks back over a shoulder. "She could have /learned/ to care for it. It doesn't make it right what she did."

Myr shrugs at Nicon, giving him a little smile. "I dunno, I guess she left it with someone to look after it. Well, she must've done. If you see her in the baths, she's got a bit of a tummy that doesn't quite fit with her figure, and she's got those reddish marks, too. What're they called? Y'know, the ones you get when someone has a baby. "I think it's horrid how she's done it... how can she be so desperate to be a rider that she'd leave her baby behind? I mean, she should at least stay with it for a little time, and /then/ give it to a nanny to look after if she can't do it herself."

"Stretch marks, they're stretch marks." Why would Nicon know this? Who knows. Unable to resist the gossip, he rolls to his side, giving Edgar a long look countered with a raised brow before looking back to the girls that are scattered about the barracks. As he bends his elbow to prop his head upon his hand, a grimace turns his lips which parts only as he speaks, "Perhaps it is better then, that a nanny watch that kid. Obviously she doesn't want it, the nanny would be a much better parent, in my opinion."

Liaden is silent for a long thoughtful moment, mild eyes on Zeyion. "Some people could, yes. Not Paliana. What's wrong with leaving a kid with someone you know will take care of it better than you could? Not a thing, that's what." Myr gets a shrug, although it's more friendly than her earlier looks towards the girl. "Not everyone is born to be a mother. There are plenty who don't even like the job." It's Nicon that hits gold, though, and she actually smiles and gestures towards him as if to say: see?

Myr wrinkles her nose and shakes her head at Liaden. "Ok, maybe she's not cut out to be a mum, but she should still take time to bond with the baby, shouldn't she? I mean, just having a baby and then leaving it straight afterwards, that's not right. I know even /my/ mum looked after me for a little while, she didn't give me to the lower caverns until I was nearly a Turn, apparently. I was up in her Weyr, or when she was out, I was with a nanny, but she looked after me mainly. Besides, I don't like that Paliana. I think there's something funny with her head. Like she's a bit of a dimglow or something. I hope that gold doesn't pick /her/... how awful would that be?"

Zeyion sets her green down, and pulls her legs up, arms wrapping around them as she listens to the talk about the motherless child, or should that be childless mother? Gray eyes fix pointedly on Liaden, just the hint of unshed tears around their edges. "And there were some mothers who didn't realize just what they had until it was almost too late. Then when they decided what they truly wanted, the choice was taken from them. It isn't /fair/ to the mother or the /child/!" Realizing what she said, or rather practically screamed in the barracks, Zey bolts. Off the cot, through some started candidates and out toward the living caverns.

Nicon makes a sharp click with his tongue and immediately Senpri glides from his perch just above the entranceway and carefully backwings to land just besides Nicon's feet. Dainty steps are taken as the small bronze toward the candidate's stomach, where he instantly drops to curl into a ball and promptly fall asleep; all the while, Nicon watches the firelizard's progress with a smirk upon his face, an agreeable nod and a wink given toward Liaden. "Exactly, I really think that the babe is better off without her, even in the beginning. Those nannies at Fort are good, they'll love the baby much more than she would have."

Tomi is one of those startled candidates, eyes widening as her friend runs past. "Zey," she calls after the other candidate worriedly before turning back towards the barracks, eyes still wide. "Shells, what did you guys say to her." And yes, she means guys. Tomi casts a withering glare towards Edgar and Nicon, sure that one of the pair is at fault for the Bendenite's dismay. It's nothing personal, but the tiny blonde has hand her fair share of run-ins with the male of the species to be rather bitter towards them at the moment. And poor Nicon and Edgar get to bear the brunt of that bitterness.

Liaden is startled, but relatively unruffled. She spares only a quick, thoughtful, glance for Zeyion's fleeing form before returning her attention to the rest of the group. This time her smile for Nicon is wide. "Better a competent caretaker, even if it isn't the mother, mm?" She scrambles off her bed and heads for the door, tossing only a muttered "tunnelsnake duty" over her shoulder before her features close off into contemplation.

"I didn't say anything." Nicon claims his innocence as he waves his hands in the air, despite the sly smirk upon his face. "She's just being sensitive, I'm sure of it," he concludes, pushing himself up so that he's now upright with his arms lazily crossed about his chest, his dark eyes following Liaden as she departs as well. "Maybe it was something I said…"

"I don't think it was anything any of us specifically said... I think it was the conversation. Wasn't Liaden a nanny?" Myr shrugs, unwrapping the towel from its turbanesque position atop her head and letting her long, damp brown hair fall loose. She holds the towel in her lap, peering down at it and sighing. "Some people can be so touchy... see, I noticed that Liaden was kinda cool towards me when I came in, but /I/ didn't react. Just let it slide over you or bounce off or whatever you want to say. It's better than getting offended at everything everyone says." She gives Edgar's leg a quick pat as she stands up, grinning and sharing a secret little wink with him, before she stretches. "Well, I gotta go return this towel, and I'm gonna go see if there's any of that stew left from earlier. Bye, guys. And I'm not leaving because I'm offended..."

"Oh shells, you didn't talk about abandoning babies did you?" Tomi's eyes widen in horror as she settles on her cot, shaking her head in dismay. "Her mother died when she was just a baby and her uncle and his family raised her. She only recently found her father." Compassionate seafoam eyes once again follow the path the poor candidate had taken as she sighs. "Well, I s'pose it couldn't be helped. You had no way of knowing." And the little candidate would have left it at that, except Nicon had to go and be an insensitive jerk. "She was not," the blonde refutes hotly, rising to the defense of her friend. "And you, more than anyone else, should be extra nice to her. Especially considering that she-" but then Tomi realizes that she's saying too much and her mouth clamps shut as she glares furiously at the former Holder boy.

Even Nicon, who is as compassionate as a clump of thread, gulps visibly at Tomi's explanation. "Oh, shards..." is murmured, a guilty look in his eyes as he turns his head to look anywhere but Tomi as she glares fiercely at him. If he could pick up Senpri and make a run for the door, he would, but that would be the cowardly approach and besides, Tomi has captured his interest again. "Considering that she what....?"

"Considering nothing," Tomi quickly backpedals, wishing that she was better at keeping secrets. She just opens up her mouth and words just tumble out. It's a very bad habit. It gets her into constant trouble. She'd probably be more believable if she could come up with a good cover story, but the little candidate's mind goes blank. "It's something that you need to talk to her about," she finally replies after an awkward pause. "It's not my place to say anything." Nor does the little blonde want to, though she warns with an intense scowl, "But if you hurt her, I'm going to pummel you, Nicon." Ooh, scary coming from a girl who probably weighs 80 pounds soaking wet.

"Considering nothing? That is hardly an adequate answer, what do I need to talk to her about? I don't remember there being a problem? Is there something you need to tell me?" Nicon presses further, almost relentless in his pursuit as he untucks his legs and swings them over the side of his cot, his booted feet landing upon the floor with a solid thud. A brief tilt of his head returns his dark gaze to Tomi, his brow raised, his expression apathetic as usually, though there's that hint of interest in his eyes. "Come on Tomi, you can tell me, we're friends..."

"Absolutely not," the little candidate crosses her arms and looks mulish. Tomi's friends have been abandoning her with a rather disturbing frequency, she doesn't want to give them any more incentive to do so. "You just need to talk to her is all. In fact, if I were you I'd follow after her and see if she's okay. Considering you made her cry and all." The tiny blonde all but snorts her derision. "Boys. Why are you all so stupid?" Pot. Kettle. Black. And then an unreasonable ire rises up in the girl as she asks, "If a girl kissed you would you go and try to kiss another girl? And then tell everyone in that's anyone on Pern that she kissed you?" Because if Nicon would, Tomi's going to lose all her faith in men in general, not just stupid Benden weyrbrats.

Nicon blinks. "What are you talking about girl?... Tomi." He tacks on her name as an afterthought, near-black eyes staring fiercely toward the younger candidate, his arms dropped beneath him as he pushes up to his feet, quickly crossing past his cot and toward Tomi, where he abruptly stops. "Kissing another girl and telling, what does that have to do with Zeyion? I've never kissed her, not that I know of." Unless he was sleepwalking.

"Nonono," Tomi shakes her head. "Not you. Aoifen. He's the wherryheaded stupid dimglow that I kissed and then he told everyone, absolutely /everyone/ about it." As Nicon stands over her, the little candidate rises to stand upon her cot which sadly only puts her at eye level with the older boy. "I didn't say you kissed her, though it probably isn't a bad idea. But only if you don't go around and kiss other girls later, because if you do, I'll knock you well into the next sevenday." Scowl. She's tiny, but her threat is serious. She doesn't care if she gets thrashed in return, she'll make Nicon pay if he ever makes Zeyion cry. "I dunno even know if you're worthy of her first kiss, Nic. She'd be saving it for this boy named Danny."

"Who's Aoifen and why should I kiss Zeyion? First of all, we're candidates, that's not allowed." A stickler for protocol, Nicon points this out with a brisk wave of his index finger. "And.... just because this Aoifen guy did that to you, doesn't mean that all men are like that. I personally wouldn't do that but then..." he quiets and firmly shuts his mouth, the muscles in his jaw firmly clenched and visible as he looks Tomi /almost/ straight in the eye. Nostrils flare as he presses again, "I still don't see what all of this has to do with me."

"Aoifen is... was," the little candidate corrects with a scowl, "my bestest best friend. But now he's not because he's a yellow-bellied, lily-livered son of a tunnelsnake." Tomi can't say enough nice things about the poor Benden weyrbrat. "And just because we're candidates doesn't mean we can't kiss." Pause. "Does it?" The former weyrbrat's not sure how she feels about kissing, but she may want to try again. And making it forbidden just adds that extra oomph to the urge. As Nicon practically stares her down, a rather bold move for the Holder boy, Tomi's mouth opens and closes in shock. And then she finds her voice. "What are you, daft? Do I have to spell it out for you, you sharding dimglow. It's because Zeyion likes you, though Faranth knows why. She thinks your handsome and interesting and other boring stuff like that. Though I don't know what makes you so interesting, you won't even go catch trundlebugs with me." Not that the little candidate's asked, but she just has this feeling that it's not Nicon's cup of klah. Tomi looks huffy and put-out until she realizes what she just said. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she just shuts her eyes in dismay. Zeyion'll never forgive her. Never.

"Well catching trundlebugs is only so much fun...." he casually says, though the wide-eyed stare he gives Tomi completely betrays his nonchalance. Hesitantly, he takes a step back and to the side, almost as if to flee though he remains where he is for the moment. "I'm sure she's just confused, she doesn't really like me, I'm sure of it," is his explanation, continuing on with, "Perhaps I'll talk to her about it later but for now, I really need to get something to eat." And more importantly, get his thoughts together - and just like that, he bolts for the living caverns without a backwards glance.

Sinking down onto her cot, the wind taken out of her sails, Tomi just stares after Nicon with a sense of foreboding. By the first egg, what has she just done? Crawling under her furs, the little candidate wishes she wasn't too old for stuffed wherry toys. She could really use something to cuddle right about now.

Fort Weyr Color Q&A

Melissa notes that we're OOC for now. No need to use the OOC header. We've decided to make this a question/answer session so that you get the info you're interested in. With the group this small, feel free to just ask your questions.

Zeyion nods, and pulls out the beanbag chair, purple of course, and plops down in it, before passing out the chocolate. Tomorrow is V-day after all. Give Taylin the extra squishy plush chair for comfort.
Candidate Barracks
This vaguely rectangular room contains cots, cots, and more cots, which either stand in neat, pristine rows, a clothespress at each foot, or in jumbled confusion, depending on the current residents. Metal brackets mark the smooth walls every four cotlengths, hosting shieldable glows that, when open, shine gentle circles on the low ceiling and worn floor. A desk holds a prominent place at the back of the room, opposite the lower caverns' exit and below the large slateboard that lists the room's 'occupants' and their assigned chores. Beside the slate hangs a wide 'tackboard', pinned full of important notices for the candidates to read.
OOC Note: Be sure to 'look tackboard' & 'look occupants' for more information.
You see Menace, Zeyion's Cot, Gabby, Finbar, Yuki, and Coca here.
Myr, Taylin, Zeyion, and M'an are here.
Obvious exits:
Lower Caverns
Taylin squizzles down into a feather chair with a lengthy sigh, then begins to ponder "When it comes to Impressions any color, what do you look for in the candidates? Just for future reference."

Melissa shakes her head. "Originality, interest in character, character development, understanding of the game, a certain level of maturity.. but this isn't about what we look for, it's about the colors. :)

M'an feels that the ability to clearly separate IC from OOC, and a certain amount of personal detachment is necessary in any color, but particularly metallics.

Zeyion grins, popping a few M&M's in her mouth, nodding in agreement with M'an. "Okay, I guess start with the big shiny gold. Specifics about riding her, I know that it is 2 turns before she rises, what are I wouldn't say hazards of riding, but, things that in your opinion could potentially develop. Stuff out of the ordinary?"

Taylin muddles something out of her foggy brain.

M'an says, "Out of the ordinary, you mean as opposed to with the other colors?"

Zeyion nods. "Yes, exactly..."

You say, "ICly? Well, there's always the danger of two golds rising at the same time, but whenever a gold is getting ready to rise the other golds leave the weyr. Usually the males know in advance even of the gold or her rider."

Zeyion grins. "ICly and OOCly. What are some of the hardest things about riding a gold, either on this game or another?"

Pwyll ducks in from the lower caverns.

Taylin says, "What are the differences IC'ly and OOC'ly about riding other colors, either on this game or another."

M'an says, "You mean the differences between riding the other colors?"

Taylin nods. That and compared to Metallics. Sorry my train of thought and my fingers aren't working along side each other that well.

M'an waits to see what Melissa has to say about Zeyion's question before answering (since he has no input on what being shiny and yellow is like).

Pwyll can picture M'an shiny and yellow, just not on something shiny and yellow :)

You say, "ICly, gold is a lot of work. Not only do you have to wash, oil, and tend that huge bulk, but you have to tend to the weyr as well. You have to take care of the records, make sure they're in order, coordinate with the Headwoman in making sure that the Weyr 'household' is run properly. You also have to see to the health of the Weyr in general. Making sure that the Healers and kitchens are properly supplied."

Zeyion giggles. Just had an image from a movie pop into my head, from Bubble Boy, the whole 'Bright and Shiny' cult. Sorry... :D *nods to Melissa*

Kh'dan walks in.

You say, "OOCly, it's a whole 'nother kettle of fish. Not always, but often you're under the scrutiny of everyone in your Weyr as well as the candidate group you Impressed with. Why did you deserve it over the others? The magnifying glass descends and those who were certain you were the worst person for the job can start picking apart everything you do. On the flip side, some may try to attach themselves to you as if you've been fast friends forever. There may also be the perception that you're OOCly in charge or know more than the rest, but those are the extremes. The most stressful time for a goldrider on VP should be during a Search cycle, and even then 'co is there to take the burden off. "

Taylin says, "Fishbowl Effect?"

Zeyion says, "Big Shiny effect..."

M'an could show you a Big Shiny effect, but Melissa would kill me.

Melissa shoves M'an into a sock.

aylin deals with Fishbowl to an extent at times on DOTM even though her bond has nothing to do with leadership.

Taylin sits on the rock ontop of M'an.

Zeyion joins Taylin sitting on the rock ontop of M'an.

M'an gets a start on Tay's question: "ICly, the differences between riding metallics and other colors are limited by two things: the dragon's physical capabilities, and the rider's mental capabilities. Ie, the smaller dragons can't ride as long a sweep as a bronze or brown, but they'll be more useful for chasing the errant bits of Thread or reaching more concealed places. As for the riders, the rank a rider reaches depends on their ambition, really. Though of course WW and WL are only open to the metallics. Other than that..."

Kh'dan is already dealing with a fishbowl effect and I just Impressed this gold on Saturday ;P

You say, "And the only job open to goldriders is WW, be it senior or otherwise. You know that you'll never be anything else, so there's very little flexibility."

Taylin nods. It'd be a little odd for a gold to try to teach 'lings how to flame.

M'an shrugs, "And it depends on the WL. M'an, for instance, is not as inclined to put the smaller chromatics in WiL, Weyr2, or WLM positions. He's a biased old fogey."

Kh'dan ehs. Goldriders can make good teachers, on an, uh... damnit, what's that word? Uhm. Not impromptu. Not imaginary... Uh. Informal!

Kh'dan snickers. Informal basis.

Zeyion says, "In addition to that, one last thing about gold, after weyrlinghood there is additional weyrwoman training too correct? ICly?" Blinks at M'an. "M'an is /biased/?"

M'an isn't exactly the paragon of virtue and perfection you've come to expect, sad to say.

Kh'dan says, "Because a homosexual bronzerider is better than a blue or greenrider ;P"

M'an nods at Kh'dan. All he cares about is the size of your... dragon.

Zeyion collapses back into her chair. "No! Say it isn't so!" Luffs da M'an.

You say, "Ooooh yes. Mostly it's more of an Apprentice/Master sort of training. You're drilled in your ballads to make sure that you have a firm grasp of history as well as tradition. You're taught how to handle record and list keeping, and hopefully pick up a grasp of how to deal with people. The latter doesn't always work, though. Look at Kylara. >.>"

Taylin bah---Links. I get booted and recon to a Khard comment.

Pwyll nodnods "Basically the juniors need to know as much as the Seniors about the weyr and tradition and the inner workings. Add to that a dash of politics and a huge lifemate and you have a very very full day."

Pwyll knocks the 's' of Senior.

Taylin says, "Kylara was a disaster."

M'an notes another aspect of IC goldrider life that can be overlooked: dealing with the Weyrleader. They run the gamut from F'lar to T'ton (it was T'ton, right? the stodgy one?) and it's up to the Weyrwoman to find a way to make him work the best way for the Weyr.

Taylin says, "Compromise?"
That is illogical.

Zeyion grins. "Kylara is such a dysfunctional goldrider. Great character in the books." Nods to Melissa and Sarika/Pwyll. "I can't think of much anymore to ask about gold, and I ride bronze else*Mu, what about browns?"

Kh'dan says, "Oh yes. There will be a lot of compromise involved - most of it on his end, not hers. Remember, he can easily be replaced, but you NEVER want to take your Weyrleader for granted, that's how you lose them."

You say, "G'var's stodgy. You just have to learn how to play them, that's all. n.~ Browns are a great middle of the line color. They make great W2s, Wingleaders, or Wingriders. They can't be Weyrleader, but large browns can and do catch the younger golds from time to time. "

Kh'dan can give a very long, very intense lecture on the best way to be a Weyrleader ;) I have, several times :P

M'an's first dragon was a brown. They're very multifaceted dragons, combining stamina and more mobility than bronzes. I like to think of them as something of an anchor for the Weyr, ready to fill in wherever they're needed.

Kh'dan has never been able to play a brown successfully until Abydeth.

M'an erps at Kh'dan. So.. how'm I doing?

Taylin has a brown on PernMush.

Kh'dan says, "Well, as a Weyrwoman, M'an, you're doing wonderful."

Melissa misses brownriding.

Pwyll does too :(

M'an sighs and guesses he's due for a lecture.

Kh'dan pets. You can't be a typical Weyrleader without a Weyrwoman to support, dear.

Kh'dan would go into it more, but I don't think our Candidates really care too much about the bronze side of things ;)

Taylin says, "Why be typical when you can be slightly odd and still keep the weyr running well."

Zeyion scratches her head, "Was it T'ton or R'gul? Anyway. Now, with allowing females to ride brown on VP, with the Thread Plotline coming up, how do you see that effecting a /female/ brown rider. I've always thought the idea of a female brown was cool. Oh no! Its all great!"

Kh'dan shakes his head. Odd isn't always good in a leader-type character.

Zeyion coughs and looks at her WL on Settlers. Grin.

Taylin doesn't mean odd odd just different.

And how does this make you feel, Melissa?

M'an nods to Kh'dan. A leader needs to know how to interact with people and understand them in order to get what needs doing done.

Kh'dan gives a slight smile. Different is normal, these days. But you don't want to be too radical, or quirky, or it affects the whole Weyr. Leaders have far less leeway on personality quirks and temperament than normal players do.

Melissa moves on the the question at hand. "I think it's going to effect female brownriders about the same way that it's going to effect the males in most respects. The females may be effected more in their choices of having children, though. The Weyr can ill-afford to have the female riders grounded due to gravid conditions.

Zeyion ahs. "Didn't think about the childbearing issue. Very interesting."

Taylin nods, me too Zey

Kh'dan nods. While on most games it's common for riders to be popping out babies like mad, canonly, most female riders would take many steps to avoid unwanted, unplanned pregnancies. Then again, no female rider should EVER have an unplanned pregnancy. Since she can, and will often, go between, any children should really be planned. *cough*

Taylin says, "You mean the greenstuff or a quick trip between?"

Zeyion says, "Both would be my guess"

Kh'dan says, "The greenstuff is a game invention. It has no bearing on canon Pern. However, all it takes is a trip or two between to abort."

You say, "Actually, it's mentioned in one of the books. "

Taylin thought is was, my brain is just sloggy when I mentioned it.

Kh'dan eyes. Which one? I searched very diligently for it.

Pwyll seems to recall something about Kylara?

Zeyion peers. "I thought it was as well. Or it was mentioned in DLG."

You say, "It's not mentioned as being green stuff. It's an offhand comment to Robinton's mother about ways to prevent and there is some mention to Kylara. However, it's important to remember that Anne mentions things that magically disappear or change completely later on. "

Taylin says, "Very true."

Zeyion nods. "Very true."

You say, "We have to take what works best for us and let the rest filter through. "

Kh'dan thought there were herbs that could prevent conception, but they were sketchy at best. I can't see that contraceptives would be very canon, since women in the Holds were expected to bear child after child, women in the crafts were expected to be chaste unless married... and popping out bebies, and women in the Weyr were much like Holders.. and there were no female riders except queens.

Kh'dan says, "But that's a debate for another day :P"

You say, "It's mentioned as being used in the weyrs, the hold and craft women aren't really told about it much. Goes against purpose. But, as you said. Ok, any other color questions?"

Kh'dan hmms. Have we discussed blues and greens?

Taylin digs about in her head. "Any thoughts on blues and greens?

Zeyion says, "And later Tia and Mirrum.. bah, can't spell it right. "

Kh'dan says, "Blues. I love blues. To me they are the most versitile dragons, personality wise. Despite all we do, most golds, bronzes, browns, and greens end up with very standardized personalities, based on the books. But blues were very rarely mentioned, and thus we've been able to give them more varied characteristics. They're also damn fun to play."

You say, "I love blue. Honestly, it's one of the most fun colors to play because no one really expects you to fill a certain role. Like any other dragon color, you can go against stereotypes and the best thing is that there's very little stereotyping of them."

Kh'dan bonds with Melissa.

Kh'dan's favorite dragons have been blue - some of them, anyway. And they're so pretty!

Zeyion has seen some amazing blue dragon descs. "Had a good friend who loved her blue, two of them actually. Never thought about that aspect of riding blue. Neat."

Taylin saw some awesome blue desc on PW recently. I had a blue for a short time then the game closed.

Kh'dan says, "As for greens. Well. Greens. They're fast, they're fun, and they're numerous. And what can we say, we all enjoy flights. I think the one thing that irks me about greens, however, is how stereotyped their riders become. Women usually become sex-kittens, and men either do the same, or end up gay... and sex-kittens. And we won't discuss their behavior when proddy ;) But for the most part, greens are very fun, and very necessary, ICly and OOCly. Without greens, we'd have a lot of very frustrated male dragons, and the Weyrs would not be able to meet Thread with any kind of effectiveness."

You say, "Sex kittens until they become proddy, when both sexes become (Pardon the language) stark raving bitches. It's fine if you want to play the stereotype of any color, because those stereotypes do portray an accurate view of some of the riders. But for every sex kitten turned bitchslap there are an equal amount of those who hide in their weyrs when their dragons are about to rise and who are soft spoken or any other range of personality. They're like snowflakes. They're all different. Thankfully they all have higher body temperatures than ice. >.>"

Taylin giggles. Ah yes, fast and furious greens and their numerous flights. Fun, exciting and rather eye opening as well.

Kh'dan grins. Aye Melissa, exactly. Stereotypes are fun - but variety is the spice of life, and we don't need any more T'on's ;)

You say, "No, but he just keeps on reproducing them, doesn't he? XD"

Taylin says, "How many kids did we figure T'on had in the firt turn after he graduated?"

Kh'dan shakes his head. I don't really want to discuss it.

M'an says, "Are there any other questions?"

Taylin doesn't have any at this moment.

Zeyion agrees, "One T'on is enough. Greens are great, I love my greenrider, she is a real enjoyment to play because of the variety. I'm good."

Kh'dan wants to say one more thing: No matter what color you get, don't feel you have to play by the rules as defined by Perndom and the books. I've played flirtatious blues, evil bronzes, bitchy golds, and shy greens. Explore the possibilities! Don't feel that your character's personality limits you to only one color of dragon - choose the colors you want based on what colors you like, not the stereotypes they entail. We can create a perfect dragon - regardless of its hue.

And how does this make you feel, Melissa?

Melissa agrees. n.n "I'd like to wrap by reminding that questionnaires are due tomorrow."

Zeyion grins and nods at Kh'dan. "Very true." A nod goes to Melissa too, "Just wrapping mine up now. One has already been sent in." Hugs everyone. "Thanks! Very informative!"

M'an would like to mention that if only one color will really do, please don't list alternatives unless you'd truly be satisfied with them.

Taylin has hers in, at least I know I sent it to the email addy in the 'nnaire.

Kh'dan nods. There is no shame in going -only. It's much better than putting down multiple colors and idling out because you didn't get the one you really want :)

You say, "Because we want to give you what you really want. Now. Enough of the talk from the old aunties *pokes M'an* Ok, old aunties and the ancient guy. >.>"