Logs:Nabrimeth and Wrencath's Clutch Hatches
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| RL Date: 21 July, 2007 |
| Who: A'son, I'daur, Madison, N'thei, Raykini, R'hin, Satiet, Talien, Tavrie, W'red |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nabrimeth's clutch hatches. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 10, Turn 12 (Interval 10) |
| From the bowels of the Weyr, a low thrum rises, gaining strength and volume as excitement seems to race through the bowl. The sound starts to vibrate the walls and the ground. In the barracks, I'daur knows what it means as soon as the sound goes up; by the speed he gets to the barracks, he either had some kind of advance warning or was very close by. He stops in the doorway to glance out over the candidates already in there, stepping aside to let a couple more come dashing in. All he says is, "Well, get your robes on, then." In the barracks, Nathein lays halfway on, halfway off of his cot: His legs hang over the end of it, feet on the floor with one sandal on and the other one still a work in progress; his back is flat on the cot while he works on fixing the straps on the second sandal. The first hint of vibration slows his work. By the time it reaches a full-fledged hum, his hands have stopped altogether and he starts sitting up. "Not very ceremonious, is it?" In the barracks, Madison hops up out of her cot and hurriedly gets her tunic on, which consists of putting her head through the arm hole, then the other, and finally putting it on correctly, before tying it around at her waist and putting her sandals on. "Really? Time?" She looks extremely nervous. In the barracks, Raykini just happens to be sitting in his cot, a hand absently running through his hair. And, as the sound goes off, he nearly falls off his cot in surprise. As the weyrlingmaster comes in, however, he bolts upright, quickly pushing himself to his feet. "Here we go..." In the barracks, Talien would be one of those dashing in. Sandwiched between her fellows, she still hesitates upon passing by I'daur to shoot a look up at him. Then it's on to her cot and the press at it's end where she takes a knee to dig out her robe. There's yet one more pause as Talien holds it out before her, then quickly enough switches her current clothes for the robe. Another dive into the press brings out her sandals which Talien slips on as she pulls her hair back into a loosely bound tail. In the barracks, I'daur's expression is sober as he starts through the barracks, checking robes and sandals and hair, making sure each candidate is appropriately dressed while he still has them in the barracks. "Hurry up," he urges a couple of pokey girls before a quick head count assures him that everybody is actually present now. He's still calm, moving purposefully and quickly. "Line up by the door when you're ready." In the galleries, W'red strolls up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, W'red has arrived. Up on the ledges, Cinnamon-hued wings carry Vildaeth in through the tunnel to the ledges, jostling a bit for a spot in a joking fashion. C'len undoes his straps, sliding off the side of the dragon, as the bronze settles down, adding a tenor hum to the sounds filling the air. In the barracks, Nathein mumbles to himself as he wedges his foot into his sandal, frowns at the end result. He flips open the lid of his press, a deft flick of the wrist shortly to unfurl his robe. "And me without my ribbons and barrettes." This mutter kept until I'daur is a few cots down the line. Shortly, the big candidate is all changed and looking wondrously stupid with his knees showing as he joins the line. Tavrie comes down a short flight of steps from the galleries. In the barracks, Madison giggles a bit as she hurries up and looks around at the others before she beams. "In order by name? Or just height? or?" Madison asks quickly, looking to I'daur. In the barracks, Raykini quickly pulls on his robes, hopping a bit on a foot as he tries to shove his sandal onto his feet, only to repeat the process with the other foot. When he's finally done dressing, he moves to join the line, smoothing out his robes in the process. Up on the ledges, Azath is settled already, eyes fixed on the sands below. As Vildaeth lands she turns and looks him over, crooing a quiet welcome before going back to her staring. Illya is more or less hiding, sitting quietly to one side of the young green and occasionally tapping a finger on the notebook she holds. In the barracks, Ayson is dressed and ready. When I'daur gives the order to get in line, he's quickly on his way to doing so. He smoothes out any wrinkles and hastily pulls off a loose thread while he waits for the next order. In the galleries, Shortly after the humming begins, Satiet and R'hin appear up the stairs from the bowl, dressed to the nines with the Weyrleader escorting the his Weyrwoman to seats near the front. Along the way, a few familiar faces, Crom's Lord and Lady. Nabol's steward. Meet and greet until they finally reach their seats. Low words are exchanged between the slight woman and the bronzerider, resulting in a slight crooked smirk from the Weyrwoman and the appearance of a flask placed discreetly between herself and the Weyrleader. In the barracks, Talien gives the tail of her hair a final, harsh tug to pull it entirely through the cord binding it in place. For all her effort she winces and then turns around to try and spot Ayson. It doesn't take her long and she quickly steps into line behind him while anxiously wringing her hands together. In the galleries, The humming draws Shan at a near run from wherever she'd been. Still pulling her jacket on against the nippy autumn air, then starting to strip it off again as the heat rising up from the sands hits her. Pausing just a moment to collect herself once again, the wingsecond heads for a seat off to one side on one of the upper tiers. The arriving dignitaries and Weyrleaders afforded a dip of head in respect as she passes by. In the barracks, "Don't think it really matters," I'daur notes, giving Madison a glance, his mouth twitching briefly into a half-smile before he moves on. Then: "Everybody ready?" he calls out, limping his way back up to the front of the line. He makes one last double check that there are no egregious robe violations before nodding one and straightening a little more. "Then follow me." And he sets off, leading the way out of the barracks to the ledges and the sands beyond them. Up on the ledges, "High Reaches' duties," C'len offers with a nod, to Illya and other visitors that he doesn't recognize. The rider leans idly against Vildaeth rather than finding a seat, taking a moment to brush back hair from his face that seems to need a trim. The bronze and rider alike find themselves watching the sands, for any sign of activity. Up on the ledges, Illya leans back so she can peer around Azath's tail and nods in reply. "Fort's duties to the Reaches and her Queens." Politeness done, she goes back to watching - this time opening and closing the notebook as she does so. In the galleries, W'red appears, on the steps of the gallery, a towel slung over his shoulder face still a little damp, his appearance showing that he has hurriely dressed fresh from the water cavern where he was enjoying a relaxing bath, "Timing, timing," He mumbles as he heads into the gallery looking for a suitable seat to watch the hatching. Up on the ledges, Arlyth settles in carefully, tucking her wings against her sides, and crouches down. Danielle leans forward and peers down at the sands before sliding off her back. She moves to the edge of the ledge, holding on to Arlyth's straps, and waves at someone down below. Weyrleaders' Ledge> On the ledges, I'daur stops again, in front of the entrance to the sands. He takes a look out over the candidates, lips pursed, expression once more solemn. "You know the drill. Constant vigilance. Get out of the way of any of 'em that start coming toward you--they'll tear you up. Half the time they're clumsy enough to do it even if you've impressed 'em. Everybody got that?" Weyrleaders' Ledge> Madison nods her head. "Yes sir." The young girl says, looking a bit nervous all the while. "Constant Vigilance." She reahces out to touch Ayson's elbow. "Good luck Ayson." She looks to her other friends, Tailen, Raykini and even Nathein. "You too." She offers. "G'luck." Weyrleaders' Ledge> Raykini gives a soft nod as he follows behind the group, his arms wrapped lightly about his chest. He sways rather uncomfortably in his spot, a rather indifferent look on his face. He gives a nod in agreement, "Yes, sir." He smiles briefly to Madison, "Thanks Madi, good luck to you too." Public announcement: Satiet announces "Hey there, folks! High Reaches Weyr is all thrumming with imminent hatching vibrations and humming meaning Nabrimeth and Wrencath's eggs are about to hatch! We'd love to have you here to celebrate the occasion with us! You can get to High Reaches easily by @tel #510 to get to our galleries or @tel #512 to hit the ledges. :)" Weyrleaders' Ledge> Nathein spends the first part of the trek trying to recapture his dignity, but he gives it up about halfway here and just forgets about his knees showing and his makeshift sandals. By the time I'daur imparts his foreboding wisdom, Nathein has settled for a look of comic suffering; "Very reassuring advice, sir. So noted." He cracks a smile, then a slightly wider one for Maddie's well wishes. "Constant vigilance, shrimpy." Up on the ledges, Arlyth lifts her voice, now, in humming for the imminent hatching. Danielle glances back at her and moves back to her side, sitting down to watch the show. "Hey K'len," She says, waving to the fortian. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Talien's nervous hand-wringing subsides at I'daur's solemn statement, to which Talien responds with a silent nod of her head and a furtive look out past his shoulder to whatever she can spot on the sands. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Ayson nods silently, shifting on his feet. His lips are pursed as he glances from I'daur and then to the others that are around him. In the galleries, Left to her own devices when R'hin drifts off to sit closer and converse with Lord Crom, Satiet smooths down the panels of her crimson dress, glancing over to spot the arrivals as they come in. With lips pursed as recognition or lack there of sinks in, the goldrider nods as needed and flashes a charming, if overly cool and polite smile, though, in the folds of her dress, those closest by can see her fingers tightening about the silver flask in her hand. Up on the ledges, Kalorith lands not too long after Danielle's Arlyth, though it doesn't appear it was intentional. K'len slides off and down to the flooring and gives a quick wave to Danielle. "Hey, Dani.." Up on the ledges, Illya quickly salutes her wingleader, then settles back beside Azath to watch -- shuffling back a little so that she's now mostly hidden behind the green. Weyrleaders' Ledge> When he's sure that that message has been impressed, one last time, on the candidates, I'daur gives a brief nod in return, before he steps aside of the entrance. "Good luck," he tells them, with one of those fleeting wry smiles. "Get on out there." Up on the ledges, Arlyth glances over at Kalorith and huffs a brief draconic greetings before turning her attention back to the sands of Reaches. Madison has arrived. Talien has arrived. Raykini has arrived. Nathein has arrived. Ayson has arrived. In the galleries, Shanlee's leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin cupped in hands. A movement from the corner of her eye, has her swinging her head in the big brownrider's direction. "Hey W'red." a hand waves him over should he wish to join her. In the galleries, Caitlyn strides quickly into the Galleries, her eyes flicking about for recognizable people - her finger holding up her swirling gown. Satiet is noticed, given a quick salute, but then Shanlee's presence quickly grabs her attention - the Istan making a v-tol line for the greenrider. She's much less daunting than the 'Reachian Weyrwoman, in Cait's mind. Raykini moves slowly into the hatching cavern, pausing just shy of the entrance to offer a deep bow. He holds it for a moment or two before rising to his full height. He lets his eyes flicker over to his friends, keeping close to them as he starts to move onto the sands. In the galleries, Tightened fingers tighten even further as the candidates hit the sands, and the Reachian Weyrwoman's pale eyes disappear behind closed lids and a litany of words spoken under her breathe. It's in that moment she misses Caitlyn's salute, but on the fluttering open of her eyes to spy out the clutch parents and those she might have missed arriving, that she again resumes greeting duty, calling out Reaches' duties as needed and very discreetly in the folds of her dress, popping the top off her flask. Talien keeps at least one other candidate in her line of sight as she moves onto the Sands. As she bows to the clutch Dam and Sire her movements are stiff and jerky and in joining the loose semi-circle about the eggs, just plain stiff. Square shouldered and with her hands deadlocked into white-knuckled fists behind her back, Talien inhales deeply and waits. Nabrimeth shifts restlessly, shifting her attention from the eggs to the white-clad candidates. The queen rumbles softly, tentatively, seeming unsure. "It's alright, love. This is their day, your little ones and these chosen," Tavrie encourages the new mother patiently, smiling at the candidates in a welcoming manner. In the galleries, W'red's eyes scan the scene quickly as he walks stuffing the towel into the bag slung over his shoulder a nod given to the Weyrwoman along with a broad smile, as he sees Shan waves he starts to head in her direction. Nathein fires a shifty look up at the galleries after ducking through the tunnel. He allows himself one fidget, just to straighten the shoulders of his robe, and then the appropriate bow toward the dragons; Nabrimeth is the recipient of an especially deep bow, to be followed by wary watchfulness until Nathein finds his place toward the gathering semi-circle. Coming out into the sands, Madison looks towards the eggs that rock back and forth before she nervously looks at the Sire and Dam. She bows deeply to both before she hurries onto the sands. Looking around to find Ayson she hurries to his side. "Can I stay here?" Ayson bows to the sire and dam before moving past them, finding a place to stand in the semi-circle. The arrival of Madison is greeted with a small smile, the best he can afford. "Of course you can, Maddy." Great Rainforest Egg gives one slow, subtle twitch, a movement that could almost be lost in the urgency of other, more impatient eggs. This one is waiting, biding its time: ready but waiting for some signal, for someone else to make the first move. Raykini moves to shift near Talien, offering a little smile to her, "Mind if I stand near you?" he asks tentively, casing a quick glance to the shaking eggs, a frown pulling at his lips. "Shards, It's really happening isn't it?" In the galleries, Jenna picks her way quietly into the galleries, a pause at the bottom tier to admire Wrencath and the clutch that very nearly impedes the flow of traffic. She looks a trifle odd without the supporting figure of her weyrleader, but moves on into the crowd, offering polite nods and catching Satiet's 'duties' to return it pleasantly, "Giving me my bronzerider back finally are you, Satiet?" From her proud tone, it's clear she couldn't be more pleased. In the galleries, Olwyn trudges up into the galleries, absently fiddling with her relatively new knot, clearly nervous at her presence at a Hatching in such an official capacity. She edges her way along towards an empty seat, murmuring her apologies and duties to those she disturbs as she awkwardly holds her skirt out of her way. S'kris is leaned up casually against the big, quivering hunk of bronze that's resting near Nabrimeth. He's warbling excitedly, whirling eyes fixed on the white shapes just over yonder and shifting his claws a bit in the sand. Soka just grins over at Tavrie for a moment, utterly beyond words for once. Guiding Light Egg shudders and topples over sideways to come to rest on the sands where it stills in silent contemplation. The illusion of light at the apex appears to emit a pulsing beacon as small movements from within swell and contract the shell in the beginnings of a hatching dance. Up on the ledges, St'vren steps carefully down from Rusuth's grizzled neck, calling "Telgar's duties to the Reaches!" as he does. The squirming young boy in his arms echoes as best he can--"Telga's dut' t'Reech!" Up on the ledges, As the ledges become more crowded, Vildaeth tries to pull his wings in just a bit closer, curling his long tail around his body. C'len waves and nods to those arriving, then shifts slightly, watching more closely as the activity on the sands picks up. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Tossing and turning as if in the throes of a terrible nightmare, Mystery's Blood Egg finally cracks open and opens wide, exposing the revelation of lucid green still caught within its confines. The ethereal green is reluctant to leave her nest, but when she does, it's to flee directly to a delicate young woman with pale curls. Ukeila utters a breathless, "You're safe with me, Kyobeth," and bursts into tears. Tossing and turning as if in the throes of a terrible nightmare, Mystery's Blood Egg finally cracks open and opens wide, exposing the revelation of lucid green still caught within its confines. The ethereal green is reluctant to leave her nest, but when she does, it's to flee directly to a delicate young woman with pale curls. Ukeila utters a breathless, "You're safe with me, Kyobeth," and bursts into tears. Madison looks up towards Ayson, sawallowing a bit as she points to the eggs. "Look, they're rolling around!" She reaches out and squeezes Ayson's hand. "Eh... Oh!" She points. "One hatched and Impressed already!" She ohs! Nathein pulls a frown after overhearing Raykini; "It better be happening. I did not come all the way out here, dressed like this, in front of all those people." He tosses his head toward the galleries. "For this to be a false alarm." Despite light-sounding words, he jitters a nervous step when eggs move, another when the first hatches. In the galleries, In response to Jenna's greeting, Satiet whirls, the top of her flask popped back on and a brilliant, and especially false smile rises to mask her inevitable nerves. "If you'd like him back, we won't attempt to keep him." A beat. "Or possibly, we just haven't tried hard enough to entice him to stay with us." Talien greets Raykini with a tense smile, "Only so many spots." she says, her voice shaky with nerves and excitement. Sweeping a glance on down the line past him, Talien nods once to herself then looks back to the corner of the clutch she stands closest to. Opting to fix her attention there, Talien stares straight ahead but still stands with the obvious tension of someone trying to hear everything going on around them. Raykini nods his head absently as he wraps his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing a little. "Shards..." And all ready an impressing, "Did you get that/ I don't even think I know him." He turns to Nathien, "Well, me neither. We didn't get all dressed up for nothing." Nabrimeth, relaxing and catching Wrencath's excitement trumpets gleefully, rearing up slightly to show her joy. Tavrie laughs warmly, slapping the gold and then returning S'kris' smile. "I just can't believe it, look at them," she notes the newly hatched pair. Could that be the bubbly blond dabbing at a tear? Ayson lifts his hand, and gives Talien the smallest of waves when she looks down the line. He bites his lower lip when the first impression is made. He takes a deep breath and nods to the girl next to him. "It's going to go fast. Faster I think, than I thought." Great Rainforest Egg's twitch is more pronounced this time, a finger on a trigger flinching as it comes inexorably closer to that moment when it will release. Impatience is visible in the faint quivering of its shell, but it holds still, and steady, unscathed and unbroken for a few moments longer. In the galleries, Caitlyn grins excitedly at Shanlee, sweeping her gown beneath her rear before taking a seat next to the greenrider - making certain to leave room for W'red. Just as she's about to murmur something, a green cracks her shell and darts to her new lifemate - making Cait inhale and smile even wider. It's then she takes in Tavrie and S'kris - bouncing back to her feet to wave hugely at the pair down on the Sands. Not like they'll notice her, what with all the things going on down there, but Cait doesn't care. In the galleries, The arriving Istan bluerider is only just spied from behind W'red's bulk "Caitlyn, right?" as memory seems to fail Shan here. "Reaches duties to Ista." Scooting over sideways a space is made for her brownriding clutchmate that leaves enough on the other side should Caitlyn decided to sit too. As more and more dignitaries and curious onlookers arrive, the wingsecond's attention is torn back to the little green that impresses drawing a wide smile for the candidate and now weyrling. In the galleries, Jenna smiles easily at the Reaches weyrwoman, and settles down in a seat somewhere nearby in order to keep up the good-natured needling. "Green already - he's from good stock, if a bit... portly. Then so was Faldaverth. Came out of the Igen line I think. We always had more light and speed bred in from Ista." The Fortian pauses for a breath, and then is distracted by a neighbor, who seems sincerely interested in her digressions about bloodlines. Good thing - it'll keep her from holding forth about them more loudly. Madison looks up to Ayson and nods. "I'm so nervous. You'll make sure and not get hurt, right?" She asks. Nathein laughs nervously. "If you call this getting dressed up..." He plucks at the front of his robe, peels it away from where sweat has started to stick it to his skin, tries to fan himself with the fabric. S'kris catches sight of at least one familiar face high up in the ledges, but only if he squints a little. His lopsided grin edges a bit moreso and he steps a bit closer to Tavrie, digging a kerchief out of his pocket and discreetly offering it to the goldrider. "Here, darlin'. See? Everything's going /just/ fine. I am so /awfully/ proud of them." Eggs? Candidates? The clutchparents? Maybe all of them. Wrencath bugles merrily and bounces a little in place. Ayson half smiles this time, gently, "I won't get hurt. You have to promise to not get hurt too, okay? Don't throw yourself in front of anything, got it?" Guiding Light Egg takes up movement once again which now that it is free of its sandy cradle, simply serves to steer it around in an ever widening circle. The flashing of color from the apex that scatters the first few delicate shards of shell with the rolling motion, gives the impression of the egg discarding 'veils'. A powerful force struggles within the Buried Battles egg and finally triumphs, sending splinters and bits of shell /everywhere/. The resulting brown is rather large, his hide just a few shades lighter than carob. After taking only a few moments to orient himself, he's carrying himself with a steady pride that brings him to the feet of Ronayil. R'yil, formerly a guard at Bitra, reaches out to place a hand on one dark eyeridge and to say, "I'm yours, Eluth." Tavrie simply beams at S'kris, accepting the kerchief as subtly as possible and turning from the sands to dab at her eyes. "This is quite possibly the...well, second most amazing day of my life," she admits, shifting back around in time to see the brown choose. "Oh, what a handsome fellow," the goldrider croons. Raykini laughs absently, running a hand through his hair as he droops his head, eyeing the white mess that is his robe. "Aye...it is a bit demeaning...I'm certainly not going to wear it again after this." He leans forward as another dragon is shelled, wrinkling his nose. "It's happening faster than I thought." With a shiver, the Great Rainforest egg finally starts to unfurl and shards of livid green drop to the sands like withered leaves. The egg wilts away and a new form arises, shuffling his wings to shed the sand that's already touched them. Wayward Desperado Bronze stretches his lanky limbs and lifts his head, red eyes blazing and an unspoken question lingering in his stern visage: Do you feel lucky? Wayward Desperado Bronze Dusty hide like cracked old leather lends this bronze a world-weary look that hangs well on his lanky frame. He's rangy, tall, and broad-chested, with long limbs ending in spurs of gunmetal-grey talons. His hollow-cheeked jaw is as square and roughly chiseled as they come, while his keen eyes are cool and shadowy beneath prominent, windswept ridges of burnished brass. Sunbleached bronze blazes a trail down the makeshift mountain range of his neckridges, into the coal-smoke crease of his neck and a shoulder edged in dusk. Gritty golds blanket the jaded desert of his haggard ribs, half-cloaked by the shabby, sandstorm duster of his wings. His flanks are leanly muscled, his tail as thin as the rest of his desiccated frame: a distilled dragon, all excess withered away into this faded, hard-edged remnant outridden by those threadbare tumbleweed wings. Up on the ledges, Danielle hums a bit to herself and tilts her head, "5 greens, 4 blues, 3browns, 2 bronzes," She can be heard to mutter to herself. Then she glances up and over at K'len with a smile, "Brown first. I like that. Always had a soft spot for browns." Arlyth snorts at the comment. In the galleries, W'red smiles as he heads Shan's way, "Hi there Shan," He says as he sits in the spot she has kept open for him, "Doesn't seem all that long ago we were standing down there ourselves, but a lot has happened since then hasn't it." The brownrider plonks himself down and the blue eyes rake over the sands as the eggs start hatching and candidates become weyrlings. Up on the ledges, "Then you missed the green before it." K'len says with a quick smirk, sinking down beside Kalorith who's far more intent on watching the hatching than paying any attention to anyone else on the ledge. "At least.. I think it was green.." In the galleries, Caitlyn nods enthusiastically at Shanlee, settling herself next to the greenrider again, still grinning. "Yeah, oh, Ista's to High Reaches!" And then the brown explodes from his shell and Impresses, and the bluerider is clapping joyously. At the emergence of a bronze, Cait oohs softly. "Lookit' him...he's *lean*. Kinda' tough looking." Madison blinks backwards as another is impressed. "Oh look, a handsome brown!" She begins to say before the brown quickly impresses. "Oh look! That was quick!" She says, before gasping as a bronze emerges. "Oooh, look! A bronze! He's very handsome. He's really chiseled." Up on the ledges, Danielle gasps a bit and smacks her thigh, peering more closely at the sands. "Well I'll be. I did miss that green. How about that?" She glances up at Arlyth and the green blithely ignores her, continuing to hum her dragonet welcome song. Up on the ledges, St'vren makes a mock-mournful face at Danielle's stated preference. "I think we've been insulted, Rusuth," he says to his bronze, who is too busy settling himself exactly equidistant between Ozriadasoth and Aleith so he can croon at them both. "No gold egg this time?" He manages to ask the question while holding onto his small son, who is pointing repeatedly at the sands and announcing "Dagrons!" to anyone about. S'kris plants a hand squarely on Wrencath's shoulder, a wordless reassurance ... and a restraint, of sorts, to keep the bronze from just about leaping out of his /skin/ with excitement when a bronze hatches. He did that! A glance is given to Nabrimeth. Check that. /We/ did that! "They've all been mighty /fine/ looking, haven't they?" is drawled to Tavrie through a wide, pleased smile. In the galleries, Olwyn finally finds a seat, an older bluerider giving up his seat near the front for the foreign goldrider. "Oh thank you, you didn't need to do that. Telgar's duties," the young junior breathes, then takes the spot not far from many of the leaders both at home and from afar. Wayward Desperado Bronze stands there a moment, as still as his egg remains before it fell away in the face of his onslaught. A nose is raised to the air, wings rustling as he adjusts his stance to a readier one, claws flexing into the sand underneath him. Picturesque, challenging, he stares down the groups of candidates he sees before him for a long moment before taking those first steps forward, swaggering away from the ghost town remnants of his shell. In the galleries, Shanlee's mouth curves into a fond smile for W'red's words on their own hatching "No, not that long ago. Seems like another lifetime though doesn't it?" The latest bronze hatchling draws an intake of breath, and the Reachian rider's words agree with Caitlyn's "Looks like a fighter." though hopefully she's meaning in the skies. In the galleries, Dalanor watches the hatching with all the rapt attention one can give from the nosebleed section. Seated with the handful of apprentices and Holder's attendants who had the privelege of coming, he almost has to stand to get a view of the events unfolding. Conversation is fruitless at this point in the hatching, so he does his best to keep track of who impresses whom. Up on the ledges, Danielle glances over as she hears St'vren's comment and grins. "Sorry, no offense meant. But I doubt your dear Rusuth could catch my lady here, that gives -her- some slight preferance and it tends to rub off," She adds a wink at the end to try and take any further sting out of the words. "And I don't know if there is a gold. S'kris didn't say anything to me about it." Talien returns Ayson's wave and in the same instant, spots R'yil's impression. Her mouth forms a small 'o' of surprise before breaking into a grin. Glancing at the eggs again, Talien hones in on one particular pale blue egg though a twitch of her head to cast aside a strand of hair from her face brings the newly hatched bronze into view. Raykini tilts his head to the side, a hand lifting upwards to sweep through his hair. The newest addition to the sands gets little interest from the candidate. However, he does make to comment, "I like his coloring." He murmurs to no one in particular. Up on the ledges, Ozriadasoth is one of those few dragons to arrive late to the hatching, rumbling distracted greetings as she and her lifemate stare towards the sands. Suraiya doesn't drop from the neckridges but positions herself, crossing her legs, for a better view. Propping a pouch of some food taken from the kitchens for the feast, the greenrider settles for the hatching. "Did I hear green hatched first?" She blinks down at the riders, a grin spreading. "That's good to know." Up on the ledges, Aleith croons in reply to Rusuth, as always pleased by the attention from the older bronze. After a moment of communication, however, she turns her jeweled gaze back to the sands and the splendid event occurring there. Ayson is becoming almost distracted by the impressions that are going on around him. He takes a breath and finally looks forward to the bronze that's just hatched, the one that has Madison's attention. "Oh yes, he's fine looking." Nabrimeth croons in response to Wrencath's looks and excitement, reaching out to nudge his shoulder sweetly. The same pride rests on her masked face, head lifted proudly. Tavrie just sighs, seeming at a loss for words. The Line in the Sand Egg shudders uncontrollably, but it takes a while longer before it finally caves inward and spills out a sinuous, sage green hatchling with a generous smear of mint along her left haunch. The diminuitive dragonet unwinds and darts toward the candidates, her nose promptly finding the middle of pudgy girl named Imena. "Oh, oh, oh! Wajath, are you as hungry as I am? Oh, let's get you some food!" Nathein gives up trying to cool off, probably having done nothing more than make himself hotter for the efforts. "Explains why they were in the condition in which we found them though, doesn't it?" He swipes his hands across his forehead, drags away some sweat, then contemplates the bronze that's gone and caught everyone's attention. "These are what we're supposed to be so afraid of?" His eyes seek out I'daur, questioningly. Guiding Light egg gives one last flourishing twitch, the dance coming to an end and the last 'veil' coming away in a soft explosion of shell resembling applause that leaves a small malachite green revealed in all her regal glory. Tempered Graceful Green Perfectly proportioned in every sense of the word, this green dragon's limbs and body come together in a streamlined visual of royal bearing. Her slender neck held in a near permanent arch of regality curves down along neck ridges which sweep backwards with notable elegance ending in a tail that coils and uncoils with undeniable grace. Fashioned as if from a polished green gem, soft hide is subtly marbled, with the lights of the heavens either enhancing or muting the effects depending on the angle they touch upon her. A sweetly shaped muzzle broadens outward to encompass eyes that hold the wisdom of the ages. Head knobs washed in the palest of sage greens give the appearance of a noble headdress while majestic wingsails of lucent radiance furl along her sides like that of a lady's hand fan, unfurling in a neat and precise manner with just a hint of coquettish curl at the tips. Moving with self-contained dignity, femininity is never far off with a refined sense of 'being'. Up on the ledges, K'len curls up a little closer against Kalorith, the bronze not even straying his jeweled gaze from the sands for a moment - not for any feminine presence that arrives. K'len does shift a little at the sound of a familiar sounding voice, and give a faint wave to Suraiya which is just as easily missed if not looking. Over at the edge of the Sands, well out of the way, Emilly stands with the other assistant weyrlingmaster, carefully tracking newly hatched dragonets. The greenrider moves forward quickly to guide newly Impressed pairs off of the Sands, giving instructions about feeding in a low, calm voice. Madison's breath sucks in as she looks towrads the green that has hatched, blinking as she ohs. "Look, to Imena! She's so cute!" She hollars as best she can to the girl before another green is hatched and she ohs. "I... I..." She says. "She's..." She points to Ayson, tugging on his tunic. For the first time Madison is at a loss for words. Ayson quickly moves to put his hand on Madison's chin, if she doesn't move away. "Maddy, don't be so loud. You could startle or upset them." He doesn't say it unkindly, instead it's with a grin. He understands the excitement coming from her. In the galleries, Caitlyn makes pleased sounds at the green who makes her way from her once-home. "Oooh, she's so regal...pretty..." The short woman is lucky to not have some tall lout in front of her, this time, and smiles over to Shanlee at her unobstructed view. "I know we always say this, but it's going so *fast*..." Up on the ledges, St'vren slaps Rusuth's flank gently. "Ah, he /never/ catches," he answers Danielle ruefully. "Doesn't stop him from trying, though. Your lady'd fly circles around him and he's end up chasing his tail...oh, that's two more greens. Good for the Wings, especially these days." Rusuth coils his tail out of the way for Uralth, the pitch of his hum deepening even further. One Colossal Egg shifts in the light of the caverns, the dazzling gleam of copper flashing brightly once, twice, its inhabitant testing its limits, before the egg stills again. Raykini tilts his head to the side, letting his gray eyes fall on the green, taking in her coloring. "Now she," He points quietly to Talien, "Has a wonderful hide. It'll be interesting to see who she goes to, eh?" Tempered Graceful Green imperiously flicks away a shell fragment with one soft little claw, then dips her head down to examine herself. It is with precise slowness that she checks every inch of herself, much like a feline would after bathing. Clearly, she does not like the goo running down her little frame into the hot sand - she emits a shriek at the mess she is, holding her wings far from herself before finally lifting her proud chin and surveying her surroundings. Up on the ledges, Danielle bobs her head in agreement, her attention caught by the sands so that it is hard to tell if she agrees with his first or second comment. "That newest green...I always think of dragonets to be ungainly and floppy. Seems strange to see one like that." Up on the ledges, Suraiya digs into her pouch to pull a desired cookie out, after seeing the green hatch. She gives her dragon a few loving taps on the shoulder as she begins a high humming greeting to the new dragonets and doesn't miss the wave from her peripheral view. She studies the riders closer, grinning and returning the greeting to the bronzerider by calling out instead. "Always good to see you 'round here, K'len." Her focus doesn't stay long as she returns to the hatchlings below. Nathein echoes after Ayson's words, sounds very grave; "That doesn't look like constant vigilance to me, Maddie." His smile is strained, a combination of heat and the increasing incoherency on the sands. Talien remains still, though her determination to look just straight ahead has failed miserably. Caught between trying to see everything, all at once and trying to focus on just what's in her immediate, Talien is at a loss for words. So Raykini's query earns a silent nod as the green is watched for those first few steps. An egg bursts open unceremoniously with a muffled *pop*. A broad, terracotta brown hatchling shrugs off the remnants of the Sandstone Frieze Egg with ease and his crimson-kissed gaze drifts ominously across the gathered candidates. His choice is a tall lad from some small hold, Vinday becoming V'day. "Yosavith? Yosavith!" In the galleries, Caitlyn laughs raucously at the green's evident distaste for her gooey exterior, pointing at her, then lightly elbowing poor Shanlee. "Prissy-priss that one is," the bluerider smirks, then going back to watching. Wayward Desperado Bronze's steps have a rambling air to them, a sense that he's wandering aimlessly over the sands even as his keen eyes gaze up the ranks of candidates, sizing each of them up before moving on. That swagger, the lazy air of his wings sweeping behind him--those careless movements bely the purposefulness beneath them. He's looking, looking for his match out there, even if he only seems to be strutting about for the benefit of the eyes on him. Almost tentatively, Undying Love Egg begins to shake and shimmy. Vibrations that look unnatural from a surface that is supposed to be so hard course over it and then cease entirely. For now, the hatchling inside will bide its time, seemingly evaluating the best means of escape. In the galleries, "Ours seemed to take forever and be over too quickly all at once." Shan comments to Caitlyn as eyes are drawn to the graceful little green. "Oh man, she's a proud little one isn't she?." a chuckle spills out low. Madison looks over at Nathein and makes a face at her before she looks towards Ayson and murmurs "Sorry." She makes a face. "She's kinda girly." She tells the older boy, looking at the green preen herself. She blinks a few times at another quick imrpession. The dart of a brown across the sands. "huh." She offers before looking at the Bronze. "Oh look at 'im. Might as well be B'yan down there in him." Raykini wrinkles his nose ever so slightly in thought, letting his eyes flicker over to the wandering dragons, but they suddenly land on the most recent impression. "Congratulations!" he calls to the other candidate, swaying a little towards nathein, "I'm sure he'll ahve fun with that brown." In the galleries, Jenna notes the Telgari goldrider not far down the line and smiles, nodding to her. "Fort's duties to Telgar - I was just mentioning to Zahava that you younger goldriders should get together and compare notes on the bronzers and browns. Your Aleith's not risen yet either, has it... uh..." Trust her to remember the dragon's name and not the rider's, as she gropes for it, clearly coming up empty. S'kris settles into just watching with Wrencath, silent and broadly grinning like a fool. Not that Wrencath's any better; the bronze is gape-mawed and jiggly, looking here, there, and everywhere at moving eggs and dragonets and oh, those candidates over there, too. In the galleries, W'red dumps his carrysack on the floor and a broad smile crosses the lined features of the tall rider, the eggs crack, dragonets step out, the crowd ooohs and aaahs, the rider glances quickly around the gallery and then the sands once again. "Forever when you are down there," He nods his head towards the sands, "Seems a lot faster from up here, but that means we can go and eat sooner, I'm starving." In the galleries, Caitlyn smiles broadly (has she ever actually *stopped* doing that?) at Shanlee, then clapping again as the newest brown breaks free and finds his lifemate. Nathein swings his head around after the calls of congratulations, pulls a bereft seeming frown. "How are you managing to keep track enough to toss out congratulations?" By the time he even notices V'day, the moment for adulations has passed. "Which one looks girly? Him?" He takes a sweeping look at the bronze, then ahhs; "/Her/. Quite femme." And now, Wayward Desperado Bronze doesn't even put up the pretense of peacocking around. His demeanor is hardening the longer he's out there, the longer he's alone, and now he looks in earnest, approaching candidates closer, his breath coming in huffs as his thin sides quiver in anticipation. Now he pauses, then sidesteps several boys as not worthy of a second glance, and he turns to pass over the line one more time. In the galleries, Shanlee shifts in her seat as the little bronze takes to swaggering along "Man, will you look at him. He's gorgeous and he knows it too." All the stresses of the last few months seem to have melted with the heat of the galleries, leaving the greenrider unusually animated. A grin is flashed sideways at W'red "You and your stomach." In the galleries, Dalanor's eyes are locked in on the bronze along with a few of those around him. Wayward knows how to enthrall an audience that's for sure and that audience includes the wishful thinking of apprentices. "He's a discerning fellow that one." He gives a nod to the Bronze's inspection of the candidates. "You'd almost think he felt like impression was an inconvenience." He gives a nudge and a grin to a lad next to him. In the galleries, Olwyn startles from her concentration on the Hatching when Jenna speaks to her. "Oh! Telgar's duties to Fort, ma'am," she hastily says. "No, Aleith hasn't risen yet. I suppose that is something I'm going to have to consider before much longer, though...," she says thoughtfully. "That is definitely a good idea, as I don't know many riders from the other Weyrs." The Mist and Shadows Egg simply falls apart, an angular dragonet stepping out and carrying his head rather high. The summer sky blue dragonet picks his way away from the shards of his former prison and makes his stoic way to a young man on the fringes. Iveldyn stares, wide-eyed, as the blue makes him I'dyn ... and claims the name, "Eidenth," as his own. Tempered Graceful Green , still among the remnants of broken shells, takes one final survey of the place she's found herself in before taking a few steps forward. Something has now caught her eye: ah yes! It is with snobbish calculation that she makes her way closer to the groups of candidates, still keeping her wings up and back with little fluttering motions. A few of them get her proper curiosity - a twitch of her head tilting to the side as if deliberating, and then briskly beginning her walk down the line of the candidates. Talien pulls in another sharp, deep breath as the dragons make their passes of the line. Though her eyes continuously dart up and down the length of the clutch, she still remains still and tense. The smallest of exclamations slips past as the bronze sidesteps some of the male candidates, and though there's a sympathetic look in their direction, Talien resumes worrying for her own hide with a small shuffle to the left. Up on the ledges, St'vren squints down at the green in question. "Well, I suppose I wouldn't want egg goo on me either. Zev, hold /still/." His son is making a determined effort to lunge down toward the wandering bronze hatchling, never mind the multiple dragonlengths of air and ground between them. "If you get eaten by a grumpy dragonet, your mum will be very angry at you. Not to mention me...great Faranth, was that Iveldyn? He stood at Telgar last time around. Well done!" In the galleries, Caitlyn can't help but squealing in joy, them jumping up and clapping loudly for the first blue of the clutch - the woman obviously predispositioned to the color. One Colossal Egg twitches suddenly, violently. The fine streaks across its side are a blur as it spins several times, digging further into the hatching sands. No cracks can be seen across its shell yet, despite effort from the dragon within. All good thing must come to an end and Wayward Desperado Bronze's rambling, roaming ways are no exception. The rangy bronze swings his head this way and that before finally swaggering toward a couple of strapping young men. Not him, not him, and definitely not- oh. What's this? It looks like the kind of challenge he was born to face down. He makes his way around to finally settle on narrow haunches in front of a large, somewhat rugged-looking young man. It's a showdown, a meeting of minds and wills and finally eyes. Crimson makes way for the clear blue of desert skies -- no longer is he a lone ranger ... this bronze has found his partner. Madison's feet begin to pick up and down on the sands, hissing a bit.. "ow, it's a little hot." She hadn't realized how much she has been sweating. "It's hot, Ayson." She offers, looking toawrds the bronze. "Oh, he's.." She blinks. Raykini tilts is head to the side, taking a cautionary step backwards, his lips turning downwards in a frown. "I wish they didn't get so close, he murmurs quietly to himself." Up on the ledges, Danielle glances away from the sands for a moment at St'vren and his son and can't help but smile a bit before her attention is back on the sands. "Then you'd have a grumpy mum too," She says with a chuckle in her voice. In the galleries, Jenna nods crisply to Olwyn, the lack of recollection of her name apparently not slowing her down at all. "Absolutely. We did it back when I was just impressed. Lot of fun. Met at that place down in Boll - name escapes me for the moment. Served me well, even though my first flight was an unqualified disaster," she says cheerful. "Oh look, that bronze seems to have chosen. Not at all like his sire. still, likely looking lad. We were thrilled for S'kris and Wrencath. And P'draig and his Jekzith. Fort's breeding into two weyrs." Proud of them as though she'd flown the queens herself. Picking back up where it left off, Undying Love Egg quivers and shifts, tipping over in its sandy groove so that it is lying on smooth side. Ahh, progress! The jostling and rocking increases in fervor now, but this doesn't last long. Once again, the egg falls still in an almost unsettling manner. Nathein... N'thei, thank you, starts to take a backward step reminiscent of Raykini's as the bronze drifts ever nearer, but his course changes after a shuffle. "I... reckon...?" His clearly at a loss, standing there with his knees showing and sweat pouring down his face, staring down the barrel of Wyaeth's eyes. "That could be a problem. I'm fresh out of snacks." Another egg has fallen stealthily apart, with a long-limbed blue left in the remains of the All Your Stones in a Line Egg. The shadowy dragon shakes his narrow head and slinks away, vanishing among the candidates and finally coming away with a rider of his own. J'ome, formerly Jerome, can be heard whispering, "We will, Ojanath, I promise." to the darkling beast while they head off to get food. Tavrie has turned around to dab at a few more tears, but Nabrimeth has her attention glued on her little ones. Turning around she nibbles her lower lip and glances around through watery eyes. "What is wrong with me? I'm never like this," she grumbles, looking a little pink in the cheeks. In the galleries, Olwyn listens to the Weyrwoman in fascination. "I'm sure it did, and it would be a good chance to get to know each other better as well. How was your flight a disaster, if you don't mind me asking?" she queries curiously. Talien is busy watching the nearest shaking egg, and so misses the bronze's choice of Nathein. It'd be to her benefit, however, as spotting Nathein becoming N'thei might render her more dumbfound than the Hatching has thus far managed. Slipping a hand from behind her back to her mouth, Talien bites on the corner of her thumb and mutters something under her breath. In the galleries, Caitlyn sees that locking of two hardheaded gazes as she's going to sit down again, and stays on her feet to applaud not only N'thei and his Wyaeth, but the Impression of the newst blue to his person. Tempered Graceful Green sweeps along the rows of candidates. Stopping to cast an imperious eye over one young lad, then flicking her head away and continuing her sashay down the line. She halts midpoint and pirouettes gracefully in place lifting wings in a little fluttering display of momentary indecision. Raykini blinks a little as he turns his head to the side, taking in Nathien...N'thei? With the bronze, "Congrats!" Ray calls, a wide grin on his face as he cheers on the other man. In the galleries, Jenna wrinkles her nose as she turns away from the impressions to says ruefully to Olwyn, "Let her gorge. She completely destroyed the feeding grounds fence, and I was more worried about that than paying attention to her - not one of my prouder moments. I was young." She shrugs. "And more than a bit afraid of her rising." Madison blinks a few times and she ohs. "Congrats..." She murmurs to Nathein, groaning a bit as she notices that the dragon chooses him before she turns back to the green, giving a little giggle at the pirouette. "Really girly." She murmurs. S'kris offers a supportive arm and a shoulder to lean or cry on to Tavrie, drawling a low, "Oh, now hush, darlin'. There is nothing wrong with you at all, y'hear?" Wrencath would back him up, but he's too busy warbling and crooning his enthusiastic encouragements to the lot of them. Emilly dodges a stumbling Candidate to reach N'thei and his bronze. "Hey there, you two," she says friendly like. "Why don't you come along with me where we can get some food for ..." she trails off for the tall fellow to fill in the dragonet's name. Striations quickly spread across the bronze-shaded shell of the One Colossal Egg, like a sudden wind blowing through the desert night. The shell falls away, almost as one piece being peeled from the stone-colored dragon inside, knocked asunder by broad wings spreading wide to show off the green-hued patina coloring their underside. Against the Ages Bronze Chiseled planes of sunlit bronze trace the shape of this powerfully built dragon, as if hewn from a block of quartz infused sandstone. Large of frame and rippling with well-defined musculature, this fellow's solid stance on thick, sturdy limbs and squared shoulders give an impression of unassailable strength, like a fortress standing against the sands of time. His oblong head sports a long, aristocratic snout that hooks slightly to the right; prominent eye-ridges and a firm jaw prevent him from taking on a runneresque appearance. A milky jade patina crowns rounded headknobs and drizzles down the undersides of broad, wide wings perfectly proportioned to his frame and well able to carry this stalwart fighter up into the sky. Polished ebon talons that extend from broad paws, and striations of shimmering coppery threads along his tawny sides infuses a touch of elegance to his otherwise concrete appearance. Up on the ledges, St'vren does the obligatory whistle and cheer for the new bronzerider down below. "He'll have his hands full, looks like, but if we survived, so will he." Little Zev sits back, clearly disappointed, and his dad ruffles his hair. "I have no doubt you'll get one. In about ten or fifteen Turns." Under his breath he adds, "Your mother and I will be able to handle the thought of you on a dragon by then...and another bronze!" He resecures his grip on Zev. Tavrie laughs softly at that, nodding in affirmation. "I can't believe I'm so choked up," she notes. "How embarrassing is that?" is tacked on. Nabrimeth gives a snort, seeming to agree that it is indeed embarrassing. "You aren't supposed to agree!" Tavrie chides her lifemate. In the galleries, The bronze impression, draws another broad grin "Oh Kaylith, won't shut up about this one for a good sevenday now." Shan comments to no one in particular. "Congratulations N'thei." the little green's antics are noted with a roll of eyes and more serious "Let's hope she can dance the skies just as well." Another bronze hatching draws brows upward "Another one?" In the galleries, A small intake of breath greets the appearance of yet *another* bronze dragonette, Caitlyn grinning over at Shanlee as she overhears the greenrider's murmurs. "About what, the Hatching, or a specific hatchling?" she inquires of the other woman. "Yeah, another one! We need them *all*." Talien's attention is on the sashaying, pirouetting green. The nibbling on the corner of her thumb doesn't stop and garbles her statement to Raykini, "Wasn't there - oh..." Drawing out the statement she's answered for herself, Talien studies the newest arrival with a faintly wrinkled forehead. Cracks wend and weave their way across the surface of the Remants of a Tragedy egg, whispering of a promise that will soon be fulfilled. The egg itself finally self-destructs and the well proportioned maiden of a green that emerges is of a lush, forest green. After deeming that all is well, the damsel makes her way across the sands daintily and makes her choice. Lystia reaches out with a trembling hand, eyes wide as she murmurs, "Seryth, of course I'll get you the best food of all!" N'thei sounds spacey, distracted. "For...?" He looks blinkingly at the dragonet nearby, his smile now full bloom with bucked up pride. "Wyaeth. That's his name." His manners are a few seconds later, delayed in elation; "And I don't know your name, but thank you." Tempered Graceful Green's arched neck turns an imperial head over her shoulder, eyes whirling in appraising interest at a particular candidate. With measured steps, tail trailing attractive patterns in the sands of her wake, the newly hatched green comes to a collected halt in front of the youngest girl of the grouping. "Wyaeth," says Emilly beamingly. "And I'm Emilly, assistant Weyrlingmaster, let's get you both taken care of shall we? Just this way." And she ushers the pair off the Sands. Emilly meanders into the dark passageway. N'thei strolls into the dark passageway. In the galleries, W'red bends and fiddles a little in his carrysack, pulls out a wineskin and pops the cork, offers Shan a swig if she'd like one, but only after taking a long pull on it himself. He claps when appropriate, and joins in the oohing, when it seems there is nothing more to do, then leans back nonchalantly in his seat, at least this will increase their fighting strength in the air, more than that doesn't matter much too the brownrider. Wyaeth moves into the dark passageway. Just as Madison was about to speak she blinks and leans over to the lovely green that has stopped in front of her. "Oh, Seteth! Of course we shall." She folds her arms across the green's neck and places her head against the muzzle of the beautiful green. Her beautiful green. Weyrleaders' Ledge> I'daur is waiting, looking restless as he's currently got the first handful of new-made weyrlings in place. The kids are feeding their ravenous charges already, the old weyrlingmaster handing out a couple more buckets of meat to keep them well-stocked before he leans up against a wall for a breather. He watches those already present a moment, then glances back to the sands entrance in time to see the new pair. "Well," he says, noting N'thei and Wyaeth. "What's your names?" He's already lifting another bucket of chunks of raw meat, to pass it to the young man. "And make 'im chew," is added as an afterthought. Raykini turns his head slightly, leaning forward as he eyes the new bronzepair leaving but something catches his ear and he turns to Madison, blinking in confusement. "Congrats!" He calls over to her way, grinning widely. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "Hey I'daur! Here's another one!" Emilly calls over as she arrives. "Nathein and Wyaeth - oh how're you shortening your name, Nathein?" she asks and points. "There's bowls of meat there if he's hungry ... and I'm off. See you later." In the galleries, Shanlee points down to N'thei and Wyaeth "Her first attempt at search and he impresses to bronze." is explained to Caitlyn right as the little green finds her lifemate too. The wineskin held out by W'red is taken with an almost cluthing action "Oh Shards! You're a lifesaver W'red." gulping a good few swallows down from it "Seteth and Madison. Yes!" Undying Love Egg has waited long enough, thank you. The egg begins to quiver violently, the new life within arguing with its beautiful prison. Finally, the hatchling yields once more, allowing the tranquil beauty of the ovoid one last moment of glory while the creature inside regains strength. Tiny fissures now crackle from apex to bottom as the rocking resumes. One talon-tipped paw punches through the shell, gripping the large fragment and crumbling it ruthlessly before being joined by a second and tearing the egg asunder to gain freedom with a trumpet of pride. Stately Scoundrel Blue Fashioned as if by turns of weathering and seeming to glisten with a lustrous briny-blue, the chiseled features that build the rugged form of this flinty hatchling are startling, and yet quite striking. Natural grace stems from a trim, well-proportioned frame and supple neck, while broad shoulders and powerful legs afford him a stance as solid and unyielding as a mountain. A delicate muzzle of hewn slate that tapers quite sharply from headkobs to narrow tip handsomely sets off a strong jaw line and softens his stony features. Craggy adornments of polished adamantine form his exquisite eye-ridges and a row of artful crests that run the length of his neck and tail. When extended, his wings with their rich, steely pinions and glacial sails appear well suited to aerial mastery. S'kris tsks gently, "Tavrie, it is /hardly/ embarrassing at all. I certainly don't think it is and I scarcely think all of them," a subtle motion to the people in the galleries and to the candidates, "can even see you to make such a, ah, rather foolish accusation." Up on the ledges, C'len has a bit of a silly grin on his face, watching the impressions taking place down on the sands. He pats Vil's side, still leaning somewhat against him. Weyrleaders' Ledge> N'thei spends more time watching Wyaeth walk, something that only a newly Impressed person could possibly find fascinating, than in attending his surroundings. "What?" He shakes his head, tries hard to clear the heat and dust from his mind. "He's Wyaeth. And I hadn't thought about it hard enough, but apparently it's N'thei. Which I'm all right with." Long pause and he remembers; "Sir." Talien smiles, just barely curbing an urge to call out congratulations to Madison as she impresses. With Ayson left to his lonesome, Talien waves him an invite to join the barely wide enough space between her and the girl she stands next to. Another quick breath is pulled in, Talien at last offering a dazed statement of: "It's just too much." In the galleries, Caitlyn cranes her neck to see the Impression of Madison to Seteth, the Istan grinning and clapping. "About time she made up her haughty mind..." the woman snickers in delight - then applauding yet again for another green who finds her mate. "Ooh, she Searched him! Oh, awesome, Shan!" Cait responds to her next-door neighbor, lightly clapping the woman on the back...and once again, her eyes and breath are stolen away by the emergence of another dragon. A BLUE. "OOoooh..." Madison's whole body is trembling as she hugs against the green before her and she nods to the lovely one. "Of course, did you see your brothers and sisters?" She asks. Raykini shuffles a little in his spot, attempting to cool his feet in the process. "Shards, are they gonna fry us any longer?" he asks, turning to Talien, "I feel like my feet are gonna fall off." Against the Ages Bronze takes in the situation for a long moment, allowing some time for his wings to dry and for his stature to be admired. While most of his egg fell away, one piece remains caught on his prominent snout, causing him to shake his head quite strongly and send the shard flying across the sands. Then he sets off, sturdy legs propelling him toward his goal--well, once he figures out what that goal is, anyway. Ayson is still there, though he's mostly silent now. Watching the eggs and the impressions. Tavrie tucks the slightly damp hanky in her pocket and leans on Nabrimeth. "I'll hush and stop fussing now," she murmurs. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "N'thei and Wyaeth," repeats I'daur, with the air of one working to fix those names in his mind. "Well. Settle in and feed him until he's full, and we've got oil when you're done with that. If you need anything, lemme know," he tells them, as he watches them a moment while they do so. Emilly skitters back onto the Sands from the last drop-off and takes a wide path around towards Madison and Seteth. "Congratulations Madison! Let's get you two off the Sands. What's your green's name then?" "Seteth is her name and she's very hungry." She says, her own belly rumbling a bit as Madison blushes. "Her name is Seteth." "Seteth, lovely," says Emilly very perkily. "Just this way, both of you, and mind the eggshells on the way out." The greenrider leads the pair off the Sands and down the passageway. Up on the ledges, St'vren is eager to watch the eggs' progress, but his passenger is starting too fuss. Too much excitement, and it's unfair to wave dragons around like that and not give him one. Murmuring apologies, he swings aboard Rusuth and heads off home. The after-party should be in full swing when he gets back. Striding out from between the twin halves of his shell, Stately Scoundrel Blue peers about him in a serious manner. Clutchsibs and candidates alike receive a piercing look and he lifts his head proudly before starting off toward the gangly human creatures. This great start is thrown out the window as he trips over a stray bit of another eggshell, nearly nose-planting. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Wyaeth, off the sands, relaxes back into that easy swagger as he lets N'thei take the lead; he hovers a step behind him, muzzle level with his chosen's legs as he saunters into town. Food, though--that's the most important thing, and it draws in his attention magnetically as he stops to eye the bucket and then, determinedly, snake his head into it to steal his first bite. Madison meanders into the dark passageway. Seteth moves into the dark passageway. Weyrleaders' Ledge> N'thei glances around, gets his bearings on how the others are managing the situation. "Oil for what?" His eyes light on the feeding for now, and he hunkers down gracelessly beside Wyaeth; oh, if only he could see himself now. "Don't just shove your face it in it, pal. Let me... feed it to you. With my bare hands." Maybe he /can/ see himself now after all. In the galleries, Caitlyn is so caught up in watching the blue hatchling that she misses the little bronze shaking his shell off. The bit of egg flicks across her line of sight, but no connection is made between it and the other dragonette when the new-shelled blue trips heavily. Cait lurches to her feet, gasping with worry - her hands clenching at her sides - expression consternated. But at some unspoken communication, the Istan suddenly smile sheepishly, blushing a bit, and more sedately retaking her seat. The mystery of the Stone Gate's Promise Egg is finally unveiled in a diaphanous blue dragon that appears wreathed in silvered fog, brightening his otherwise midnight blue hue. Wraithlike, he drifts to the candidates and finally presses his nose into one daydreaming lad's hand. Dannek, now known as D'ek, proclaims happily, "Of course, Aloyeth. Let's go!" Weyrleaders' Ledge> When the next pair arrives, I'daur is still watching N'thei and Wyaeth out of the corner of his eye as he scans over the better-situated weyrlings who are already beginning to slow their eating and clamor for oil. When a new arrival shows up, the weyrlingmaster automatically looks over, arching a brow as he sees Emilly leading in Madison and her green. "Afternoon," he tells her. "What's her name?" He's already nudging a bucket of the raw meat over toward her, nodding to it pointedly. Talien pulls her thumb out of her mouth just long enough to say, "Fried feet don't fall off." It's popped back in, though the corners of her mouth tilt upward in another just-contained smile. While she watches the blue and bronze, Talien presses her other hand against her hip and the pressure upon it isn't relented until several knuckles pop. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Madison hurries in with Seteth, the beautiful green by her side with the young candidate hardly having enough time to look in front of her as much as she's staring at the green. "Oh, look." She says, beaming and looking up at I'daur. "Her name, her beautiful name is Seteth." Madison has tears in her eyes. "Here." She reaches down into the bucket and brings out some raw meat. "Here Seteth. Eat," Against the Ages Bronze has some trouble sorting out his wings and tail, stumbling over the remnants of another egg whose pieces get tangled in those sparkling ebon talons. He's determined, though, to keep going and find whatever it is he's looking for, studying each of the candidates as he passes. He rejects a tall, green-eyed girl from Lemos (too big), then a short, dark-haired boy from a nearby hold (too small). Trumpeting a moment's discontent, loud and brash, he pauses in the middle of the sands as if trying to decide what to do next, how he can find the one that's just right. In the galleries, Poor Caitlyn, yet *another* blue emerges to make her sigh in pleasure. "Ooh, lookit' his *tone*..." ANd then she's applauding his choice. Raykini tilts his head, leaning quietly near Talien and dropping quietly, a grin coming to his face. "How do you know? Have your feet ever been fried before?" he asks, wiggling his brows at his fellow candidate. Having managed to sort himself out, Statley Scoundrel Blue carries on again, still endeavoring to look his most suave despite hints of clinging egg-goo and stand that he kicked up in his near tumble. He pauses, seeming to consider where his investigation of the white robes should begin, then, he promptly moves around to start at one end of the group. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "Yes, but you need to eat first Seteth." She begins holding out handfulls of meat, hoping that her green will like the way that she convey's it. "I will be fine when you are." She coos to her dragon. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "For him," says I'daur wryly, a jerk of his head indicating Wyaeth. "And slow-like, don't let her choke," is the warning he adds to Madison and Seteth, as he steps their way briefly to observe. "Make sure she chews it first, Madison." In the galleries, Olwyn winces at the Weyrwoman's admission. "Oooh, not good," she agrees. "I'm going to try really hard not to let anything like that happen, but who knows what will...it's not like I've ever tried to control a dragon in flight before," she sighs uneasily. Yet another egg shudders and falls apart, the Defender of the Sky Egg being unable to stay together due to the struggles of the dragonet within. A clay-brown dragon spills out and straightens, his stocky frame moving slowly as he gains his bearings. He's soon moving toward his choice, however, and locks eyes with Trinsin -- now T'sin -- who declares, "I trust you, too, Valuth. Let's get you some food." Talien pauses to consider Raykini's question before answering it in a quite obvious yet still bold-faced lie. "No, but I've seen them before. They just whither... oh no-" Talien stops mid-word and gestures unhelpfully with her chin as she watches the trumpeting bronze, "He's gonna... oh no." A step back is taken as both arms drop to her sides. "He's not trampling me, uh-uh." Weyrleaders' Ledge> N'thei pulls his hands away then, shows his palms to Wyaeth in surrender. "Far be it for me. Try to take it slow though. You look a little... not dignified." He must have missed something when I'daur gestures to Wyaeth, a gesture that leaves him blinking at the weyrlingmaster with absolutely no cognizance. "What's for him?" Raykini laugs absently, rubbing at the back of his head, "I was joking." He tells her, shaking his head and casting the bronze a wary look, shuffling off to the side. Yes, when in doubt, keep your distance. In the galleries, W'red's attention is briefly averted by yet another impression, as he takes another swig from the wineskin offering Shan and the unknown rider on her other side, "W'red," is all he offers other than the wineskin. The brownrider waits patiently for all the impressions to finish having not seen one brown dragon in the clutch, unless he had slept through 'that' impression. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "Do this." She takes a piece of the meat and begins to chew on it slowly. "See?" She surpresses a choking sound and when it's mashed up good she swallows it. "See?" She shows her dragon before she puts a bit more into Seteth's mouth. "Now chew it up with your lovely teeth and then swallow." Tavrie smooths Nabrimeth's hide lovingly. "Are you proud? So many wonderful dragons...a weyrling group that will hopefully where 'ol I'daur out," she teases. The gold rumbles in a pleased manner, eyes following the little bronze for now. In the galleries, Jenna says briskly to Olwyn, "You'll do fine - I say, look at that blue - I survived even that. Was a clutchmate who caught Niyath. But I'd put heads together with the other young goldriders. Zahava, and Eviath's, isn't it, at Ista. She's so young, I think, she might also appreciate having older women to talk to." Sitting very still, the Against the Ages Bronze hatchling re-examines all of the Candidates once more, taking his time, head tilted slightly downward in the attitude of a deep thinker. Finally, he picks himself back up again and steers a steady course. Great paws leave wide prints in his wake, and there's a long line left by his tail as he moves toward a tall young man with dark eyes and shaggy brown hair. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "The oil...?" says I'daur, trailing off meaningfully and arching a brow at N'thei. He shakes his head, though, and gives the independent little bronze a look--but as he seems to be managing all right on his own, he lets it pass. "Just keep an eye on him," he says, before--"You know, pantomine, visualization... These things work for most people," he directs to Madison as he catches her little demonstration, lip curling. In the galleries, "Ooh, another brown," Caitlyn murmurs, applauding his Impression of his new rider. She takes note of W'red's introduction of himself, smiling over to the man past Shanlee - accepting the wineskin when Shan's done with it - then taking a goodly swig. "Caitlyn, blue Kintryth's," she grins back to him. Weyrleaders' Ledge> Aghast, N'thei just had to be looking up when that happened. "Did you just put /raw meat/ /in your mouth/, Maddie?" He nods distractedly at I'daur's advice, torn between his horror at what Madison's doing and his utter fascination with everything that Wyaeth does. Talien's mindset is obvious and as the blue heads toward her end of the line, she eyes him as suspiciously as she eyed the bronze. Being that the blue is closer it's he who she focuses on. Though her lips barely move, a low-toned bluff is directed Raykini's way. "I wasn't." Head held proudly aloft and wings folded in a business-like manner, the Stately Scoundrel Blue continues to suavely stroll along the line of candidates. He weaves here and snaps there, appearing to enjoy making some of the people squeak or back peddle. He pauses with a snort, shifting his gaze to stare purposefully at someone just out of reach. Then, with a more impatient stride, he hurries to make sure no one will claim his chosen one. The blue charges right up to stand nearly nose to nose with a hazel eyed young woman. Shiver, shudder, splinter, *crack*! The Cursed Beauty Egg finally gives way, revealing its precious treasure in a shower of sapphirine shards. The resulting green is rather rotund and dark, almost oily in appearance, with slick ribbons of seaweed tinting her neckridges. She takes a few waddling steps forward before she starts to keen sharply, drawing Jiscella to her with that sharp cry. "Rysoth! Oh, Rysoth, you'll be /fiiiiiine/!" Weyrleaders' Ledge> Wyaeth, well. He eats. He's at least reasonable about it: however 'undignified' he might look, rummaging in the bucket for himself, his shoulders are set defiantly still, and he is mindful of the cautions toward chewing (at least after the first time he has to cough to clear his throat; some'll only learn by experience). All in all, he's managing rather well for himself. In the galleries, Olwyn gives Jenna a wry smile of appreciation. "Thank you. I hope you're right. Ooooh, he's very nice. Yes, I'll definitely have to do that. I hope Aleith will give me some more time to get settled in before such knowledge becomes necessary, but it never hurts to be prepared!" Weyrleaders' Ledge> A soft hand reaches out to rub over Seteth's eyeridges. "No my dear.. You don't need to pretend to choke." She tells the green, "I am not used to eating raw food." She offers again and takes up some more meat. "Everythign else, just like you, was perfect." She tells the beautiful green. In the galleries, The silent count of folks as the large ovoids on the sands slowly disintegrate to blend with the sands reaches the Weyrwoman's ears. This is the moment that had Satiet nerved and after fortifying herself liberally with that flask in her hands, the raven-haired woman makes her way down the steps to the sands, though a flicker of recognition passes as she spots Caitlyn and nods, then Jenna and Olwyn again midst the other visitors. R'hin remains with Lord Crom. A'son eyes widen, in what can only be described as shock. He shakes his head slowly back and forth before finally speaking. "We go to get food, Nikoth. And I will make sure you get as much as you need." He looks to be choked up, and his lips pull into a smile as he slowly puts a hand out to touch the bronze. Raykini gurns to talien, blinking a bit and rubbing the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Sorry." He murmurs, grinning a bit. Talien's attempt at warding off an impending mauling pretty much dies when the blue charges and she forgets how to work her feet. Given the frightened expression dropping into a perplexed one, she's either about to faint or... "Oh son of... Svodriyth!" Talien drops both hands around the blue's neck and quickly retracts them when she gets an armful of egg-goo along with the blue. Raykini's touch and congratulations are heard, but in a distant manner that leaves Talien offering an equally distant-sounding, "I'll fry them later.. food sounds good." On the bottom step, Satiet pauses (knuckles pale white as she holds her flask behind her back) before girding her slight, crimson-dressed frame up to stride across the sands to stand by Tavrie and S'kris. Her voice, clear and strong rises: "Thank you, so much, for honoring us by agreeing to stand for this clutch at our Weyr in these troubling times and while we're sorry you did not find your dragon on the sands, you were all Searched for a reason." A beat passes, the pale eyes clouding with a spot of unrestrained emotion, perhaps it's sympathy. "We welcome you to make High Reaches Weyr your home and we'd like to extend an invitation to you, and everyone," her voice lifts there to reach the galleries, "To join us in a marvelous dinner prepared for us by Master Myriana and her staff." A flurry of Impressions at once sees Emilly corraling more than one Weyrling-dragonet pair at once. "Talien ... Ayson ... er ... A'son? This way if you please," says the assistant Weyrlingmaster. "And congratulations to you both!" Weyrleaders' Ledge> N'thei prefers the view of Wyaeth than the view of Madison at this point, and he addresses the latter. "But it's not at all demeaning to shove your head in a bucket of raw meat?" He hops up quickly at the first twitch between the bronze shoulders, turns his knuckles to remedying the itching. He has yet to make the leap of logic from itching dragonet to bucket of oil. Weyrleaders' Ledge> "She says she's itching quite a bit sir." Madison says to I'daur, giving her Seteth another handfull of meat so that she may enjoy it. "What can I do about that?" She wonders before she looks to N'thei and snorts. "I did it out of love." Up on the ledges, Illya makes a final scribble in her notebook and then mounts up -- time to go home. Up on the ledges, As the last of the eggs hatch, C'len lets out a long breath, as if he'd been holding it for a while. "A good group, I hope," he says, to no one in particular. Weyrleaders' Ledge> N'thei addresses the /former/, that is. A'son still looks shocked, surprised, confused and looks immensely grateful when Emilly steers him towards them towards where they actually need to be. Weyrleaders' Ledge> And there's the last couple, trickling in now with Emilly. I'daur watches them, lips pursed, as A'son and Nikoth enter, and with them Talien and Svodriyth. He says nothing for a moment, just studies the pair and finally turns to grab up a pair of buckets, one passed to each new rider. "Here, get to tendin' 'em. Don't let them choke--chew. And--what's their names?" He pauses to glance over them again, gaze lingering a moment on Talien before another hailing attracts his attention. "Oil's over here," he tells Madison. "Grab a bucket and paddle and start slathering it on her. Make sure you get everywhere, too, all right?" Raykini flashes a grin in Talien's direction as she's tugged off by the weyrlingmasters. His grin isn't wiped as the weyrwoman starts her speach, just shrugging it off. A'son strolls into the dark passageway. A'son has left. Nikoth moves into the dark passageway. Nikoth has left. |
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