Logs:Monaco's Eggs Hatch
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| RL Date: 7 June, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia, Brieli, Iolene, K'del, Lujayn, Riahla, Riorde, R'hin, Suireh |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Monaco Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Monaco's eggs hatch. Brieli Impresses. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, Monaco Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 12, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| It's afternoon when Monaco's dragons begin to spread that rolling thrum through the ocean-side weyr. Word is sent out across Pern - to High Reaches, in particular, but to other places, too - and within the weyr itself, the candidates begin to gather, clustered in groups and nervously anticipatory. Out on the sands, Mirinda and R'hin gather, with Oriane and M'kar-- while residents begin to filter into the galleries, ready to see what happens. Will Monaco's daughter find a Monaco girl? A High Reaches one? Midst the candidates, the two daughters of the clutch sire hold hands, an apprehensive, but excited look bright on Riahla's features while her darker-haired sister seems to be all too calm. A cool, collected, what may come sort of calm that's betrayed by a lifted heel, twisted ankle, and then the trade off for the other foot. There won't be any chance to just stalk off the sands this time, not with her father right there, and it's to him those pale gray eyes shoot before drifting to the other candidates. A quick tug from Suireh pulls an all too willing Riahla closer to the golden egg and the cluster of Monaco girls gathered there. Or possibly one somewhere in between? That's certainly Brieli's hope as she gathers with the rest of the candidates, on the fringes of the High Reaches group - knowing most of them well enough to chat, but not well enough to be friends - but it's a weird sort of camaraderie they have at this point, given they're pretty obviously pitted for the same egg in this case. Of the twins, she's quicker to offer a smile to Riahla than Suireh, obviously - and while the tall dark girl might follow them across the hot Sands, she's smart enough to find herself a spot well away from them both, so as to not start sniping on the Monaco hatching grounds as well. Who their daddy is hasn't been lost on her. A good deal of these Monaco girls are competitive, banding together as a united front against the onslaught of High Reaches candidates, favoring their own. Most of them have clustered together in threes and fours from which the northern girls are pointedly, silently excluded. And the boys? Well, the ranking dynamics and rivalries among the girls are almost -- almost, but not quite -- as interesting as the eggs. At least, until those eggs really start rocking, and then they're all looking to their own fortunes first. There's something about K'del's clothes - they just don't fit right, don't look right - but at least he seems pleased and proud as he arrives, speaking quietly but positively to Monaco's leaders, and the clutchparents. It's unusual for foreigners to be allowed on the sands, but-- these are unusual times, after all. Slight of frame and not kind with sharp elbows, a tropical flower of pale stem and bright red petals stands out against Monaco's sunbrowned girls. And that's where she chooses to stay, despite being ushered in with the rest of the other Reachians, standing straight up, and out. Just as planned. Frizzy, fiery hair is smoothed back, and should those banding Monaco girls try and force Steffie out, they'll get a particular nasty jab, nasilly voice hissing, "I got just as much a right as you." Though she seems to think more so, with that tone. In the stands, a few intrigued Bendenites have slipped in, their knots on prominent display, and they quickly find themselves a place midst the throng of other, very curious spectators. "I have bets on this blowing up in his face," says one bluerider to a Benden harper. "I'll raise your bet with a skein of my latest brew," returns a vintner, "And say he somehow gets what he wants. But I can't tell which of those... eight? Was that the number, Trist? Eight girls, he'd want most in his bed." It starts with a bang, in the end: two eggs hurtling into each other with impressive force, both shattering to reveal the hatchlings within. A blue and a green, shard-covered, begin to circle and hover. The blue takes his time, but the green? She's off like a flash towards one of those High Reachian girls. Was Arysanne supposed to be standing for the queen? Too bad: she's Monacoan, now. The newly-appointed Acting Senior is present as well, exchanging the rote pleasantries, one eye always out on the sands. Lujayn leans forward, lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes sweep the burning sands. She lingers over the familiar faces but can't shake the tense expression from her face. It's an unusual situation indeed. Suireh yelps; this tiny little sound that escapes her without any semblance of dignity as Arysanne, a girl standing not so far from her is claimed by a green. The pretty teenager's lips press thin in a way reminiscent of her mother and she sidles discreet steps away from that general area. Riahla? Riahla's all about being in on the action and she's about to drift away when the tug of her sister's, nerve-wracked, grip brings her back. "Please?" If Arysanne - Rysa, now - is even remotely disappointed by Impressing first (just like her older sister) and not to the queen (also just like her older sister), there's no sign of it in her expression: she's in raptures as she's led off the sands, one hand on yellow-green hide. That blue, the one being so picky? He finds his partner, too, selecting a rather more orthodox Monacoan boy. One Reachian girl down; seven to go. "Oh," says one slender, dark-haired girl to Steffie, elbowing back and aiming for a kidney. "Funny you say so. These are our sands you're standing on." She keeps her voice low, but the tone of it's clear, and meant for more of the foreign girls than just the one who's shoved in next to her. A sniff for Suireh, a disdainful glare for Brieli. From the galleries, one of those Bendenites observes with a wicked little grin, "Pretty thing, but one less for the Reachian Weyrleader's pants." And then, of course, everyone has to stare at those pants a moment and try to hide smiles. All except one woman whose face is a little disturbed. "She really did burn his weyr down, didn't she?" Steffie gives a laugh, too high and too fluttery to be anything but nerves at the sight of Arysanne impressing. "One down." The giggles that follow are a bit more malicious, cut off by the elbow that she's not expecting. She really should have. "Ynnf!" Squeal. "Yes, but /my/ daddy said it was better to stand with you lot," Nose upturned, voice actually lowered to a hissing whisper for candidate ears only. "Just incase the silly thing is confused and doesn't see me at first." Suireh can be sniffed at, she's trademarked her own version of that cool, disdainful little stare her mother was so good at and favors that Monaco girl with just a split second version of it. A voice that's laden with a dry indifference, emits from R'hin's daughter, "I didn't think you'd like being up north much, Breyna. You'd have to wear too many clothes and then how will the boys know you're open for business?" Rolling her eyes, Brieli points out to glaring Monaco girl, as lowly, "We've all had this argument a million times - can we just shut up for the hatching?" Now her words include Steffi too, and her fists look a little less clenched out of fear and a little more like she'd like to hit one of them. Maybe Suireh and Riahla were a better idea? But then, her former combatant speaks up, and she has to cut off a loud laugh, lest she not be an example of paying attention to the eggs. Look at her, staring at the gold egg. Not smiling or laughing at Breyna at all. And with the hatching started, three more eggs start rocking all the more enthusiastically, tapping against each other before one finally falls apart. A bronze steps out, his viciously lashing tail knocking away those two, really annoying, sibling eggs, causing them to fall apart into one brown and another green. They Impress in rapid succession to Monaco's candidates. In the galleries, midst all those curious, there are even riders of Weyrs that ultimately did not support K'del's little plot. An elderly bronzerider, who may have once been a Weyrleader in his own right, observes, his chapped lips set in a displeased line. There are notes scribbled down in a small notebook. The golden egg, under the stares of so many girls, begins to tremble subtly, but outside of the loose circle of candidates for the Reaches-to-be queen, there are a shattering of two more eggs: another green and a brown that capture the audience's attention and some of those female candidates briefly. A Monaco girl slated for gold finds joy in the lively powdered blue. Alas, it's not Breyna. "The same way they knew your mother was available, I suspect," Breyna snidely retorts, taking the hit from Suireh so she can dish it back. She rolls her eyes at Brieli with a little 'hmph' and doesn't seem to have a retort prepared, since she focuses on ignoring the other Reachian girls. So her companion glances over and fills the void, tag-teaming. Sweetly, too sweetly, this girl answers, "No. You're still here." It's a good thing R'hin isn't too close to hear that snideness, but Riahla is and her slim, calloused fingers flex into a fist, the one held so fast by Suireh pulled away. It maybe happens too quickly and if one hatching resulted in a sullen twin being spoken to by her uncle and pseudo aunt, this one might have the same problem as Riahla pushes through the short distance to Breyna and a punch gets thrown. "FUCK YOU." "Oohhhhhh." Steffie can't seem to, or doesn't want to, listen to Brieli when it comes to respecting the hatching. Instead she's hopping on her feet, bony, tiny hands clapping in such rapid succession that it's all a blur. Such nastiness. FUN. But then eggs are hatching, and people are being impressed, and she upturns her nose at all those non-shiny hides. Though a bronze has her eyes lingering, so used to gazing at the /finer/ things, though the redhead has her eyes on gold once again. Egg, that is. Riahla's sudden attack has her squealing, hopping further away from Breyna with enough time to yipe, "Oh, fan/tastic/! Another Tiriana!" When the golden egg begins to shake, the loose cluster of girls around it tightens. One intrepid girl even takes a few steps closer. Its hatching is quick, the shell flying as the dragon within breaks free. One sharp piece cuts that girl's cheek like shrapnel, though no one seems to notice as a deeply-hued queen emerges. >---< As True as the Tide Gold >---------------------------------------------< Ripples spread across the taut hide of this antiqued queen, subtle sunbursts that add a lustrous sheen to her deeply golden hue. Long, lanky-limbed, she's the product of her sire's lineage: not only the soft, untried muscle laid over her bones' thin framework, but an indolent confidence inherent in her bearing. Palely tipped ridges drift up and down her length, whimsically spaced; her wings tilt at leisurely angles that catch both air and light, their sunlight-in-water wingsails stretched between insubstantial spars. It's only her bright eyes that ground her, genetic arrogance tempered by curiosity and a certain, near-constant blue-tempered steadfastness. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< Every time a dragon slated for Monaco comes closer to the circle of girls, Brieli tenses; every time that dragon Impresses to another is a relief. The subtle trembling of the egg before her brings a sigh - thank you, FINALLY - but that moment of peace in the storm is short-lived; she gasps as it's Riahla that pushes through the crowd to start a fight, jumping back and away from the sudden violence. She misses the girl getting cut entirely, and she'd miss the gold if it weren't right there - she stumbles back in surprise, trying to regain her composure as things, again, go insane around her. Monaco's Weyrleaders have been watching that gold egg closely, of course; now, its contents revealed at last, there's a certain amount of proud approval in their expressions - Oriane's in particular. The clutchparents look smug but unsurprised, though young Mirinda seems to half dance on her toes in pleasure as she beams at her dragon. Breyna's all talk and certainly didn't anticipate the consequence of her slur. She cries out in alarm, too slow to protect her face, and then the first blood on the sands is induced by the candidates rather than as a result of a clumsy dragon in a hurry. "You broke my nose!" Breyna wails as she stumbles backwards, hands flying up. A weyrlingmaster, on his way back from tending to the latest Impressee, steps up alongside the fighting Candidate. "You," he says to Riahla, "Are a guest in this weyr. Shape up, or I will have you sent off the sands." It's a good thing so many people have been distracted - but not R'hin, whose eyes are on his wayward progeny. "Breyna, let me take you to find a Healer." Steffie shrieks again, determined to provide a constant soundtrack for this hatching but at least this time the sound is of delight. "Oh, lookit, lookit!" More hopping from one foot to the other, and it's not hard to imagine the Reachian girl going 'Daddy daddy I WUNT it!'. She eyes the hatchling with obvious greed, wringing those hands, squeezing making them look even more pale in comparison to her flushed cheeks. "So pretty, so much better than that exile abomination that exile squatted out, don't you think?" Whereas Breili offers quiet anxiety, the redhead is more than happy to let her nervousness out. Through her mouth. Another two eggs hatch, sending forth another blue and another green. Their Impressions are quick, both to boys who stand a long way from the new queen. Despite the insanity, Brieli freezes suddenly, no longer paying attention to the fight, or Steffi, or the hatchlings - anything, really. Her expression is totally confused, fine brows drawn together, head tilted to one side. Even though they're the enemy, she asks a nearby group of Monaco girls not in the brawl, "Did you... hear something? Like... water?" On the Sands. That doesn't sound crazy. "No!" Breyna sounds panicked, but more so from the weyrlingmaster's offer than the way her broken nose will hereafter skew the symmetry of her face. "I have to stay! The gold!" She's side-stepping, surging forward to be one of those girls that has first shot at Impressing. Her companion's already abandoned her. Riahla can't temper her anger, the flared eyes and flushed cheeks a sure sign that it's not about go anywhere, but- there's her daddy and there's her sister's clammy, cold hand grabbing for hers again and she does move away from Breyna. But not without one more feint. "You shouldn't have done that," says the dark haired girl to the blonde, but not without any real censure. In fact, Suireh's damn proud. But there's the gold on the sands and she's working hard to pull the pair of them to the front of the circle. The Weyrlingmaster's expression narrows at Riahla's reaction, but Breyna is a more immediate concern. "Here," he says, thrusting a handkerchief at the candidate. "Wipe yourself up." He's clearly not thrilled about it - blood on the sands! - but there are more Impressed pairs to collect, and he doesn't have time to stand around. "Water?" answers one of the few who hasn't immediately moved to present themselves to the newly hatched gold in hopes of claiming her attention. "No. That must just be the heat." She takes a step, then hesitates and looks at Brieli. "Come on, we should be in there too." The Monaco girl doesn't offer again, and moves forward with or without Brieli. "Oh don't be silly, why would there be water? Unless one of these Monaco girls is piddling themselves," Steffie prattles on, gigglegiggle. "But that is hardly ladylike and befitting a weyrwoman." Blue eyes narrow and look for the culprit, but then she's entranced by the gold once again. SO pretty. And if there's any girls who're trying to nudge themselves forward, they'll get their toes stomped and ribs jabbed at. Nobody's taking her treasure away, the Reachian girl surging forward with the rest. A sky blue hatchling collapses out of his egg, sending sand and shell flying. He's smaller than many of the others have been, and none too sturdy on his feet; still, he pulls himself together enough to begin wandering, teetering this way and that before, finally, he all but throws himself into the arms of an awaiting girl from outside the Weyr. So she was looking at that queen. So what? She has him now. The sunbursts that pattern along As True as the Tide Gold's hide catches in the glow lights and the sun that might filter in through the sky opening as she continues to turn and observe. Cautious calculation reflects in those bright eyes of hers, the weight of the decision she must make keeping, for now, the red-tinged hunger at bay. Bleeding Breyna? Is that the girl? The delicately crafted head tilts as if waiting expectantly for something to happen, but nothing does and there's a little exhalation of disappointment. Steffie? That too, results in a long five second span of stillness and then more disappointment. Dark eyes going wide, Brieli seems momentarily overwhelmed, overcome by... something. Maybe it's the heat. Usually so tall and purposeful, she wavers on her feet, blinking around the hatching grounds as if she's looking for something. An explanation? A person? A window? Eventually, her eyes fall on the gold at the same time as the Monaco girl answers, and it clicks. "You're right." She steps forward with the other girl, once, twice; under her breath, she murmurs, "I'm here. I'm right here." The Bendenites are leaned forward, earnest in their interest. "Another Tiriana on the sands," opines one, with a small smile. "It'd be ironic if she Impressed gold and started beating up random riders too. Then what will all have this been for, K'del?" Rhetorical question aside, people start to murmur, the undercurrent of conversation seeming to dance between savage Reachians, with a Weyrwoman like that, no wonder. Or; learned behavior, it's the exiles ruining High Reaches and good riddance to all those exile non-riders who got turned away. Suireh straightens, her ponytail trembling with the energy kept pent inside. This? This is surely a queen worth standing for, and there's no danger of her sulking off the sands this time. "Ri," murmurs the girl, so eager to live up to her mother's legacy, "This is it." Riahla? She's still glaring at Breyna, but has enough brain space to respond, "For you. I can't think of anything more boring than working on hides for the rest of my life and spreading my legs for K'del." The last, for what it's worth, does bring a giggle. It's a joke, right? With careful steps, As True as the Tide Gold bypasses a series of girls, pausing briefly at a pair - one blonde, one dark-haired - before dismissing them as well. She keeps her distance in these observations before, quite suddenly, those gangly limbs stop and her fair eyeridges seem to tweak as she stares at a chestnut-haired girl. Her curiosity piqued, she takes a few steps forward - and then a few more, until she's right upon Brieli, looking up with the pleased whirl of Impression bright in her eyes. Breyna of the broken nose holds her breath, hopeful, during those few seconds in which the gold looks her over -- and then passes her by. In the moments following, the girl from Monaco with such high hopes for herself looks crushed, crushed, but a defensive reaction turns that disappointment to petulant indignation. "Ugh, who wants to leave Monaco anyway," she opines to her friend, and they both take consolation in that, resolutely turning their backs on the new Impression to see if there's any dragons left for them in this clutch. It's terror, for a moment. Sheer terror on Brieli's face, where others register immediate joy. She's pale and shaking until something else sinks into her mind, and this girl - so composed, so calm, so steady - just falls to her knees and breaks down into tears. It's not pretty crying either, it's an ugly sobbing that comes from some place deep, and for all it's ugly, she's smiling after she can catch her breath. "Iesaryth. Thank you. Thank you. You don't know..." But she does know whatever Brieli is so grateful for, and that sets off the tears again. No sooner as the queen Impressed than there's another hatchling in the vicinity of all those girls. Amidst the surprise and outrage, he all but throws himself at one of the distracted, unhappy girls-- Impression, to Riahla, is immediate. (Sucker). The hint, even if given by a newly hatched gold dragonet, is not taken. Steffie pushes onward, not going as far as to be savage like Mini-Tiriana, but there will be bruises to mourn over afterwards. So, she's following the hatchling, trailing after in quiet desperation even as other girls are dismissed. "Oh yes, no. No, no, you don't want that one. If you'll just turn around-" A gasp, dramatic and far too loud and intense to be good for the lungs. "HER!?" Impression is hard for even Steffie to overlook. Oh, oh she's going to faint... and instead she lands hard on her bony butt, big fat tears already welling up in her eyes. Face is almost as red as her hair at this point. Oriane's breath catches as she watches the queen - and then it releases, quite sudden and unreadable in intent, when Impression is made. If she leans in to murmur something to her Weyrleader, well, the contents of that thought are impossible to discern. "Who wants you in their Weyr other than Monaco," responds Riahla, though she's careful to keep that under her breath. No need to have fight #2; she can already foresee the talking to she'll be getting, and then there's- "Oh, Ri," breathed out by her sister, the startlement of Riahla's Impression enough to stay the damp welling about her eyes. It wouldn't do for a former Weyrleader's daughter to cry from not Impressing. And Riahla? Happy as a freaking clam. /Bazinga/. "Ugly crier. They always seem to cry ugly," says a rider from Igen wryly. "I about pissed in my pants when Hyseth found me." The vintner from Benden laughs merrily. "I bet she's pretty enough for High Reaches boy Weyrleader." He's going to collect on his marks now, thankyouverymuch. There's not much left after that: another two hatchlings Impress, unmemorably (except to their new partners) and not, thankfully, to any more High Reachians, and then everything goes quiet. A weyrlingmaster comes to collect Brieli and her queen, and after a moment of quiet conversation between Weyrleaders - K'del looks cautious, but not displeased - Oriane and her Weyrleader step forward to wish the remaining candidates well. "You would all be most welcome to Stand with us another time," she says. Although the Impression of R'hin's daughter? Well. The other girls might be disappointed. There might be no more dragons left to Impress and no eggs to shell themselves into one, but for Iesaryth, there's no other than Brieli. Steffie's disappointment, Breyna's sullen dismissal, and the sudden stoicism of Suireh are nothing right now as she nudges her muzzle against the Crom girl's face and somehow, something of this pleases her. Steffie isn't going to hear any of it, feet kicking at the sand, "S'not fair! S'not!" Snot is right, wiping her nose and snorting, standing up and shooting a glare at everyone. Especially at Brieli, turning and storming off. There might be those wondering how or why that particular girl managed to get a chance. Daddy's pocketmarks likely bought her a spot- but he couldn't buy her the position of weyrwoman. And he's likely going to hear about it, if that stomp stomp of her bird legs is any indication. Laughing suddenly as she straightens, easily led away with the others, Brieli nods down to Iesaryth, grinning as she wipes away tears - looking much less freaked out. "You do. I mean, I do, yes. You're funny." She's shaking a little still, adrenaline and terror still running through her body. She's likely not the only one amongst the small crowd of weyrlings. She's not noticing anyone having issues with her Impression - understandably. It's a good thing Steffie stomps off when she does: K'del looks as though he is about to have words, but her departure spares that. Thankfully. |
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