Logs:Rielsath and Malsaeth's Clutch Hatches
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| RL Date: 11 October, 2008 |
| Who: C'mryn, Eila, Hali, K'del, L'rell, Leova, Lujayn, P'ax, Sunniva, X'lar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Rielsath and Malsaeth's clutch hatches. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 12, Turn 17 (Interval 10) |
| Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr Whether one enters from the main bowl entrance or one of the smaller tunnels at the back of the cavern, golden-brown sand glitters and swelters in every direction. Close inspection reveals that while the large egg pieces have been gathered up, small fragments remain mixed into the hot sand, record of a thousand hatchings. The main source of light is a huge window of sky high in the wall that also serves as an aerial entrance, its overhang just deep enough to admit light and cooler air but fend off harsher weather. The sands' setting designs them to be the focus of the vast amphitheater, with tiers upon tiers of galleries rising up its southwestern side near the tunnel to the bowl, and rings of dragon ledges higher yet: heat and architecture combining into what can be a palpable sense of pressure. It is past midnight, with Belior and Timor both full in the sky without. The glows have been lit low, rather than bright, casting long and spooky shadows across the walls. Paxim sketches a bow as he's shuffled out on the sands sandwhiched between other candidates. It's a sloppy bow, make no mistake, but it's hard to feel confident bending over in a dress, especially with the feeling of impending doom lurking in the air. After standing up straight again, he looks around, spotting the group of late-nighters and making to stay with them in the circle forming now around the eggs. "No?" asks C'mryn, grinning. "Well, it's here if you want, but you won't be standing still for long. Not when they," a head bob towards the eggs, "Start actually hatching." His jacket is slung over his shoulder, and there's an 'at ease' look about him that's sure to be a facade. "At least *you* get to wear pants," and another headbob is given towards the candidates. In the thick of the throng, Desperado's Disguise Egg and Bound with Spinnerwebs Egg first rattle and then knock and then outright bang against each other, as though in some sort of competition to get first crack at the candidates. In the end they splinter simultaneously, though the lanky celadon hatchling takes a little longer to run down a short Southern girl, while the hunched midnight blue has a local boy all but by the throat in a matter of moments. "Terluth," A'stel whispers, agog, as so many in the galleries cheer: seems the third time on these Sands really can be the charm. Kasadel, despite himself, hesitates a little as he makes it onto the sands, eyes wider than usual as he glances around, from Rielsath and Malsaeth, to their riders, to the full galleries beyond. His pause nearly causes a jam, though, and at a nudge from someone else, he continues on, dutifully bowing towards dam and sire, then taking his position near the eggs, and near Paxim and the others, his hands dropped towards his sides awkwardly. He stiffles a yawn, then looks embarrassed - and then the first egg is gone already, and his eyes go wide. Sunniva is with the others, hands folded in front of her and green eyes flicking from here to there. Shadows, fellow candidates, rocking eggs ... everything is taken in with an apprehensive chewing of her lip. It doesn't hinder her ability to bow to dam and sire, however, and she does so, only to step into place with the other candidates and then ... freeze. "Oh," is for the first egg to hatch and Impress. The Crimson Caricature Egg rocks one last time, a too-great motion from the being within sending it tumbling end over end as flakes fleck off onto the sand. Finally it explodes in a burst of blood red, the net of cracks bursting apart under the pressure of one slim brown who lands on his feet despite a rather startled expression in his dark eyes. He immediately strikes a conqueror's pose atop the shattered walls of his egg. >---< Incendiary Vainglory Brown >-------------------------------------------< Rich red-umber hide stretches over this brown's aristocratic face, its delicate bone structure giving him a rather androgynous appearance. His precisely-held skull is long and narrow, roman-nosed with high-set cheekbones and large, slanted eyes which hold something cat-like in their gleaming, self-centered intelligence. Past sleek headknobs, high, fire-touched ridges descend an elegant neck, his body built along refined lines that enhance his natural grace. Every motion is visibly calculated to impress: a long tail curved just so; tiny paws with their lethal iron-gray talons exactly placed; slim shoulders draped artistically with a radiant conflagration of wings. Though their translucent sails are veined with gold, they still shadow the rest of his deep chestnut hide, dulling it into something dusky and purplish along his smoke-shaded underbelly. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< X'lar nods once more to Lujayn, quick to reply back: "Yeah. I don't think I've seen the moons -that- big before." At Leova's brief nod to him, the Istan rider cannot help but grin wide at her in return. But Lujayn and Rielsath have most of his attention while Malsaeth continues his vigilant watch of the clutch. "How's Rielsath doing now?" Xie asks the goldrider, smiling up at Lu's wintry gold. "Oh, look, candidates," Xie tells Lu, nudging her back with another grin. Malsaeth's attention looks toward the hatching eggs, looking on with something like pride possibly. Luttrell follows behind several other candidates, near the end of the line. He fllows suit and gives a little bow to the clutch parents, and then falls into the semi circle near his friends. Startled really by how fast everything is going so fast, the eggs are already hatching! Leova actually looks like she might be considering it for an instant, just for an instant, but then shakes her head, offering a high-five instead. "Hot enough to get sweaty, and..." The crack of the eggs interrupts her, and after a hasty look down at her pants she just takes her cue from what C'mryn's doing, hurrying behind the other candidates to intercept whichever one he hasn't got, Maraya or A'stel. Paxim nods his head to Kasadel and shuffles aside to make room for Sunniva and then Luttrell. "This is it." He whispers as the first eggs begin to hatch, and then his breath catches and holds, as if he's forgotten to breath. "So far so good... nobody's getting eaten. Yet." Bom chicka wow wow! Yeah the Hear Me Roar Egg has it now, with a slip of ovoid hips, to rock the sands tonight, only of course it's the one doing the rocking. Rock, rock, rock, and on that offbeat, an irregular tapping chimes in from the visually still Child's Whimsy Egg while a shiver goes through the Black-Draped Egg, intensifying the illusion of wind-rippled cloth. The low thrum of a basso rumble, distant, reverberates off the black egg, its off-measured cadence seeming to herald a coming battle. Hali is nearly caught up in the jam caused by Kasadel, though she simply pushes onward and pushes the candidate in front of her. She lowers her head at the dam and sire, missing the first Impression but catching the next hatching dragonet. Her eyes are wide, and she breathes, "Wow." Probably the first time she's genuinely said that word. "Sunniva," she breathes, and shuffles over to the other candidate to stand beside her. Kasadel's eyes don't seem to know where to rest: they keep darting, this way and that, trying to seek out everything that happens, and memorise it all. "This isn't going to take long at all," he realises, out loud. "Oh, shut up, Pax. No one's going to get eaten. Does it look like they're going to eat any-- /oh/." Something else has caught his eye, and he stares and stares, just grinning in excitement and anticipation. And two weyrlings make it off the Sands. C'mryn's got his head bent down, talking swiftly and cheerfully with the new pair as he ushers them off. Rather than return to his former post, he simply takes to walking lazily around the perimeter, keeping his eyes on the eggs. Sunniva is trying not to hold her breath, truly, but the shivering of that horrible black egg elicits a shudder of her own. Hali earns a sidelong look, one that lingers only a moment before, "Oh. Hali. Oh, oh, is that-" a dragon? She can't even finish the thought, just expecting her fellow candidate to understand. As quickly as he arrived, the Incendiary Vainglory Brown is bugling out his presence, a grand announcement of his arrival on the sands. With kingly bearing, he remains where he is, though close watchers might notice him sneaking sideways glances at candidates from his slanted eyes. Are they watching? Lujayn turns her face upwards to Rielsath, who is watching the eggs with as much anticipation and awe as some of the candidates. Eyes whirling rapidly, the gold shifts to meet Lu's gaze - who smiles through a small laugh. "She thinks they should come out, because eggs aren't much fun after a while." Kapow! The Hear Me Roar Egg splits open all of a sudden, shards flying outward in a small rain of sharp pieces. Tumbling and rolling across the sands, a compact ball of mottled blue hide, head tucked firmly into haunches so that the little guy's color and build are hard to make out at first. Finally the Motley Mischief-Maker Blue hits another egg hard and bounces off, coming to a halt in a little hollow of sand. Slowly he unfolds, rear legs dropping away to wiggle toes into the grounds' grainy surface, forelimbs descending after and at last a pair of dark, red-tinged eyes peeking out as his head lifts, leaving a tiny, roly poly bundle of quivering energy on the sands. >---< Motley Mischief-Maker Blue >-------------------------------------------< What some might consider ugly, others may think endearing and this little blue's squat, ungainly cornflower-painted form certainly has the potential to elicit both reactions. Overly broad through the forehead, his nostrils sit perched up high, endlessly perky above a too-short chin and a mouth that stretches almost impossibly wide between his jaws. Dark, liquid eyes, circled with pale aqua, are tip-tilted beneath barely-there eyeridges, their deep midnight drowning facets in near-invisibility. Long headknobs seem to almost flop off the back of his head over a short, thick neck that bears incongruously spindly ridges. Too-long wings washed with mottled blue-violet above display rosy pale lavender beneath the sails where they meet his body when open. Wide of stance, short stumpy legs freckled with indigo hold up a roly poly body that is far from balanced by a tail that seems to end far too soon and is often coiled up in a little ball against his body to keep it out of the way. Talons of polished ultramarine curve wickedly from rounded paws, furthering a sense of mixed messages from his physique. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< Leova, as escort of those newly Impressed, is less with the cheerful and, more with the blunt, the better to get them there without tripping over themselves or anyone else. Once they're safely delivered, she narrows a look through the white wall of robes, trying to gauge just where that brown is going. That loud brown. /She's/ watching, not like it should matter to him. And then more, even /more/ shards fly. Luttrell nods vigorously at Paxim, glad now he at least got a short nap. "Well, least thats hopeful. Shame a bronze wasn't first though." He notes watching the eggs as the wobble and shake, and the hatchlings on the sands. If it wasn't the sands being hot you would think it was the excitement. He glances from the brown to the blue with renewed excitement if that was possible. Paxim glowers at Kasadel, though in a playful way. "You never know, they might make an exception and eat you. I bet you'd be mighty tastey." Was that another come-on? Really, of all the times. His attention draws away from his friends then to the hatching eggs, and the brown hatchling bugling, and the blue hatchling hatching, and suddenly he has no clue where to look. "Well, the bronzes are all being fashionably late, of course, for Kas and I. It wouldn't do to just show up with the riff-raff." Child's Whimsy Egg appears to wrinkle further, crinkles and cracks running more or less randomly through its shadowy markings. And then it's quiet for a time. Just sits there. And then the tapping comes back, louder, much more purposeful. Across the sands, a twitch, a wiggle, and a few nigh inaudible scratching and shifting noises from within is all Beauty's Price Egg manages. It rocks a bit from side to side, twists a little and manages only to dig deeper into its little spot on the sand. X'lar grins back at Lujayn, nodding easily at her. "I know what you mean," he murmurs back to the goldrider, smiling in wonderment as eggs continue to hatch. "Shells, /look/ at them all, Lu," Xie replies, his breath catching at the sight on the sands. Kasadel pipes up, with a sigh, "My bronze is taking his time, I can see that, already. I can wait, though." He glances at the brown, and then the blue, though, considering each in turn, but without too much interest - it's all academic, perhaps. "I bet I wouldn't be," he adds to Paxim. "Too thin. Maybe in a few turns." If it /was/ a come-on, he's missed it entirely, too distracted with other things to pay any heed. Hali simply nods, too full of energy herself to come up with the noun. She points out the new blue, "There's another one." She turns her head back and forth to attempt to take in everything. "There's an egg rocking," and this time she's pointing at the Child's Whimsy Egg. Eila's trepidation is clear perhaps only in the way she's clasped her hands tightly about herself - as though the sands were chilled, and not searingly hot. But for all her pressed-tight lips and hesitance, she pays strict attention to that brown and blue without any other outward sign, save for a rocking back onto her heels, although that may be in preparation to dodge should the need be. Sunniva purses her lips, rolling up on tip-toe to try to get a better look at things. "Oh. A blue and a lovely brown," she remarks, then promptly sets about sinking her teeth into her lower lip again. Fretfully. She /is/ listening to the others, but her glances to them are quick, mostly to make sure she's got her full attention where it ought to be. To Hali, a distracted: "Oh, there, yes." Motley Mischief-Maker Blue Standing with all four legs spread wide and head lifted, the Motley Mischief-Maker Blue sniffs the air, looking around carefully, almost suspiciously. With a low rumble in his throat he picks up a limb at a time and digs claws into sand, testing the mettle of the ground beneath him. The movement of another hatchling nearby sends him scuttling away behind the looming shape of a nearby egg and he looks out from around it, eyes narrowed and red-tinged. Oh hey, something else out there like him! But the curved sides of the egg before him distract and he gives the shell a nudge with his nose first, then taps lightly with a claw. Startled he jumps back when the dragonet within taps back and a crack appears in the shell. Backpedalling quickly, the blue backs into the shadowed shape of the Don Juan Triumphant egg, giving it a heavy smack to the side that sends one side of the pale profile on its surface flying. Paxim nods to the brown, "That was Master Anvori's favorite egg." He notes to no one in particular. "They're /all/ rocking." He says loftily Hali-wards. "Not so bad, is it?" Cam asks Leova as he happens to pass her. "We got the easy job. Just walk 'em off the sands and hope no one trips." But even though he's smiling cheerfully, his gaze is intent upon the eggs, and especially those two wandering dragons. Hali crosses her arms, despite the heat, the dangling appendages seeming ridiculously useless at this point. "Oh," she notes, watching the blue dragonet and his fumbling. She turns to watch him completely, eyes wide and blinking. "Will they all act like that?" Incendiary Vainglory Brown, despite his loud calls for watching, moves with something almost furtive when he sets off, his narrow shoulders slinking as he sets off across the sands. He's off toward the candidates by roundabout fashion, but when one of them looks at him and points him out to those standing nearby, so much for subtlety. He's right back to his prancing, kicking up sand with every showy step as he now makes a more direct shot for the ring of candidates. Kasadel's eyes narrow as the blue sends that egg flying - "Look at that blue. That was my favourite egg, too, that it just hit. Hope--" He breaks off, though, because there's too much going on to speak too much. Again, he pulls at his robe, tugging it further down his thighs, and once again showing his underwear through the white fabric. Hello, ladies. A small, skinny boy clings nervously to his friend and maybe it's nerves, or maybe it's puberty, but his loud, shrill voice is all too distinct in the cavern, "What if they come after *squawk* us?" After the passage of that mottled blue, surprised eyes look out from within the porthole thus created in the Don Juan Triumphant Egg, and a springy green slips forth, restlessly pawing at the sands and looking around a bit until she spots a young woman whose face, turned to the side matches the one that so recently masked the world from the green hatchling. Charging that way, the green butts her head into Nabolese Briora who cries out happily once she gets her breath back: "Ousath!" Lujayn's mouth twitches into a frown as she /does/ look, seeing a blue dragonet careening across the sands. "Takes all sorts," She decides after a moment. The taller friend, if ever there was an odd-couple, looks down upon that tiny, scrawny little boy and puts a brotherly arm around his shoulder, patting. "If they come after us, I promise, I'll toss you out of the way first." Sunniva blinks owlishly, now unable to look away from the eggs with the antics of the blue out there. "I- I do hope not," she replies softly, the lacing of her fingers turning white-knuckled. "Oh, I do wonder who that brown is going to look to." And another Impression draws her eye and it's back to watch and wait. Wickedly sharp claws of brushed steel abruptly pierce through the weakened Black-Draped Egg. They glimmer a gloating moment before slashing downward, tearing away at the belly of the shell. A flutter of wings black-dark with damp swiftly emerges. Pinions lower and the Fierce Phantom Green turns back on her mortally wounded egg, sounding a wailing high-pitched shriek as another swipe of her claws shreds the remaining cap of the shell to pieces. "Right, right," Leova says to C'mryn, but she does try out a smile. "Easy. That /creature/ keeps /crashing/ into... Briora? Really. Here, I'll get her," anything to /do/, and she whisks the girl and Don Juan's green right out of harm's way. Luttrell glances between Paxim and Kasadel, giving a chuckle before he turns his attention forward again watching the blue's mishap with the don juan egg, amused at how the egg hatched and the green impressed Briora. He glances around finding the Incendiary Vainglory Brown again, watching at he prances. Tilting his head at the awkward sight. >---< Fierce Phantom Green >-------------------------------------------------< Sharp and cruel, the narrow lines of this green's muzzle lead to fiercely angled ridges cut over beady eyes, trailing off into thin minimal headknobs. The deep viridian of her face gives way to faded verdigris along a sharp-ridged neck: a ratty cloak dropping down over shoulders and skimming halfway along her back and deep keel. Beyond the muted cloak at her shoulders, dark malachite spreads down narrow haunches and a stiffly-held tail. It spills across her broad and sturdy wings, gathering brighter at the edges of her sails so that they appear limned in witch-light. Disproportionately skinny limbs lead down to skeletal digits, the hide of her feet touched by ruddy hues as if wear has brought rusted copper back to a fine polish. It makes the delicately threatening curve of brushed steel claws all the more apparent. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< Eila's sidling away from that strident candidate; nearer to Sunniva perhaps only because she's conveniently close, or less likely to make such keen noises. Either way, the young nanny catches her teeth in her lip and watches the slicing of the black egg, and the girl makes a small noise in the back of her throat at the revealed green. Kasadel's expression, briefly, shows disgust. His favourite egg, a green? Ugh. He turns away, gaze flicking towards the brown still wandering, then further, to the remaining eggs. "And /another/ green. Where're the bronzes already?" He takes a long, deep breath, shuffling his feet more for something to do than anything else. Child's Whimsy Egg rattles its way open, a big chunk of black-and-white shell falling most of the way off, dangling by a thin strip of fragment-dotted membrane. In the resulting hole, an even bigger head with gigantic red eyes... no, with whirling red eyes surrounded by red-bronze sockets... starts to poke out, gets wedged partway through, and tries a slightly different angle. Much better! One shove later, the egg cracks further for the gaunt bronze dragonet, barely darker than bone, who rubs up against the abandoned shell and looks plenty pleased with the world already. A prancing step, an amused cock of his head: the Incendiary Vainglory Brown makes sure eyes are on him every time he moves, watching the candidates askance as he feigns indifference to the very audience he courts. But one of the white-robed figures draws him closer, and he toys around the group of candidates standing with a tall boy with long, dark hair before he finally reaches out. His talons stretch for that boy but stop just short, the only mark made between them a mental one. >---< Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze >------------------------------------------< He's a gaunt hound of a dragon, a collection of bones animated by a hunter's cheerful, relentless spirit, his joints bulging beneath hide of a wan and green-washed bronze. So pale is he that his eyes stand out in stark relief, bright within deep sockets the burning red of embers, and his big paws seem eternally smirched with a darker, ashen mottling. No other markings does he have, however, not on the blunt head that balances, barely, on a short neck, nor the barrel chest that diminishes to frankly skinny haunches, not even his whippy, wriggly tail. If the thin sails of his sharp-sparred and very aerodynamic wings seem a little greener, it's only because ichor beats so very close and ready beneath the skin, their very vulnerability also their strength. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< X'lar nods once more to Lujayn, grinning once before spotting the same blue she sees. "It does," X'lar replies in ready agreement. "It does." He looks back to the candidates and then back to Malsaeth, who continues to look rather proud at the eggs that hatch. C'mryn offers a quick, "Sure," as Leova darts off to collect the newest Weyrling. He's got eyes for the dragons, again, all but ignoring the candidates - not important until a dragon's at their side, anyway. Paxim makes a high pitched noise in his throat when the brown impresses, and then steps back a fraction when the green hatches. "I /told/ you we were going to get eaten." He says, pointing out the green who looks ready to carve them all up. But then there's a bronze hatching and he's looking suspiciously at Kasadel, like he might be ready to fight the other boy for the right to Impress to him. Ousath's appearance and Impression seem to galvanize the Motley Mischief-Maker Blue and he darts off across the sands, weaving back and forth, nose to the ground like a hound on the scent. This brings him into the path of a wandering brown whom he trundles through blithely, pausing briefly to look over his shoulder almost apologetically before moving on. More eggs! What might come out of them? The blue bumps his shoulder into the side of one deeply buried egg curiously as if seeing if it will move, but it doesn't budge. Another egg rocking nearby draws his attention and he pounces right on top of it, head pressing to its side to 'hear' what's going on. When the top pops off the egg, he goes flying backward and spins around a few times, tail waving like a dangerous tree branch and sends the Deathly Comical Egg flying into the Whitefaced Carnivale egg. L'rell is startled at first, but of course he'd been watching the brown with some interest. Smiling as awkwardly and brightly as ever. "Hello Xatolaeth, yes, yes, I will feed you. Whatever you want, I will do." He gives a quick loving rub to the browns eyeridges before looking for someone to help him out. Where do we go form here?!? An explosion of shell shards goes flying everywhere, as the Deathly Comical Egg and the Whitefaced Carnivale egg crash together under the influence of a wayward tail. Blue and vermilion and white mix in a crazed kaleidoscope of color that drops away to reveal a tangled up blue and green dragonet who take a dizzy moment to sort themselves out before wandering off, eventually successful in finding their new lifemates. Sunniva ohs and ohs again, the hatching of the bronze and the Impression of the brown happening so close together that all she can do is watch with a breathless kind of wonderment. It's the latter that she fixes on, green eyes flicking to Lu- L'rell. "Oh! Oh, congratulations!" Because focusing on that is a lot less scary than, oh, that crazy blue. "Wonderful," and C'mryn makes short work of closing the distance between him and Luttrell, now L'trell. "This way, hm? Wonderful brown you have. And nice name! Come on, bet he's hungry, yes?" And the ushering continues. Hali's eyes simply go wide at the entrance of the green, and then her attention is on the bronze. "I'm starting to wond--" She blinks over and over at the newly named L'rell. "Congratulations!" She joins in with Sunniva. Kasadel takes a step back as the brown approaches, then lets out a long, low sigh of relief as the brown chooses Luttrell instead, though his grin for the other boy is triumphant. "Luttrell - oh, wow." Paxim's words distract him from this a little, a wary glance sent towards the green, then back at the other boy. "Just watch out," he murmurs, quiet. The bronze - of course - attracts his attention, too, his eyes as wide as saucers, one foot taking a step forward. Just a half step, before he stops. "Bet he's mine. Bet-- bet that /green/ is yours. Boy-lover." Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze stands still right at first, all but for the ceaseless and unheeded lash of his tail: one moment, then a second and a third, taking his time along with his very first breaths. So /much/ to see. It could be dizzying at first, but he's adjusting, shaping his bony body to something straighter, and moments later his headknobs tilt as he catches the sound and the scent. His head lifts. His wings rattle loose from his sides with wet stretches and smacks. And he moves away from his shards without once looking back, heading clumsily across his dark sister's path, intent on what's beyond. Eila's congratulations are hot on the heels of the other two girls, echoed after the brownrider-to-be as he's escorted from the sands. She clutches her arms tighter about her chest, sparing a flash of a smile for the blue's antics, even a faint chuckle, although he's certainly not the only thing to hold her attention on the sands. Paxim sniffs, "Bet she's for /you/, pretty boy." he shoots back at Kasadel. The bronze is apraised. "He's gangly like you though. Maybe you are a perfect fit, all freakishly skinny and disjointed." Such insults from the lanky lad. Through all of this, Leova stays just behind the circle of candidates, venturing through only to take those newly Impressed back to their refuge. Though she gives a particularly nervous-looking candidate a grimace that approaches a smile, once, otherwise she stays out of the way and alert: might not even have needed that klah on top of the adrenaline. Motley Mischief-Maker Blue crosses paths with a wandering brown, gallops up to him and rolls him over into a happy ball of youthful, tussling energy. Ultimately though the pale brown comes out on top letting out a bugle of annoyance and shoves the blue off to the side, marching off determinedly towards the ring of white-robed Candidates. This leaves the roly poly blue lying flat on his back looking up at the ceiling like he's trying to figure out what just happened. Finally, he picks himself up again and re-plants his feet, little tail swishing back and forth to eyeball the humans on the Sands again, but there's more tails and flying shells to chase and he bounds about, leaping and pouncing joyfully. Jumping out from between two eggs, the motley blue looks left, then right and bounces forward to sniff and push and poke at some lingering shards. BAT! He sends a piece flying willy nilly, mindless of where it goes. Kasadel breathes out, long and low, as if calming himself before he responds to Paxim - though the conversation has only part of his attention, between that bronze, and the green, and all the other hatchlings roaming about, dangerously taloned and unstable. "He's not freakish at all; he's beautiful. And /mine/. She's-- bet she's as bad tempered and nasty as you are. Shards - do you see that blue? Now /that/ is weird looking. And weird, in general. Playing like that." So much is happening on the sands it's difficult to keep up, except- was that? Is that? Did a glob of green goo just fall off of Beauty's Price Egg? Oh no, that's just a piece of shell. Without seeming to shift from its spot at all, it drops a few chunks of shell to the sands, the ooze of fluid from within hardly making it any prettier. X'lar chuckles softly as he sees Luttrell, now L'rell Impress, shaking his head in amusement. "Guess he's staying at the Weyr now," he replies. "Good for him." Xie leans against Malsaeth, the pair seemingly feeling a commingled sense of pride and glee at the on-going hatching. Lujayn can't be kept down for long, and smiles anew when watching the playfulness of the motley blue. "Can't wait to play with 'em," Is what she says of Rielsath, her head tilting towards the absorbed queen. "She's still a kid, like them." Grin. After beating up an egg or two with his tree-stump tail and pouncing on some of his siblings playfully, the Motley Mischief-Maker Blue finally stops careening around like a wild thing and charges off decisively towards a young lady with reddish hair and light eyes. His approach is rapid and unswerving, the dragonet rearing up on his haunches and reaching broad paws up to the girl's shoulders to claim her firmly as his own. Paxim grimaces at the blue. "Maybe he'll never Impress." He notes dryly. Kasadel is looked up and down. "Maybe she is and good for her. Maybe she'll eat you out of spite and that silly bronze too." The Fierce Phantom Green flicks her claws irritably, drops of egg goo flinging outwards with each shake. Whirling eyes turn up from the shredded corpse of her shell, lifting She recoils as the path of the Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze crosses her, a paw coming up and claws flexing defensively. Her movement is checked for a long moment as her snout swivels to glaringly follow the deliberate movement of the other dragonet. When she does move, it is with slow skulking steps in his wake. Hali immediately ducks, hands going to her head to protect herself as the piece of shell flies towards her. But it doesn't hit her but keeps going, and now her eyes are wide and blinking less, and she's watching the blue almost exclusively. Sunniva's hands finally unlace, dropping to her sides as she starts to shift her weight discretely. It's the blue that earns her attention, mostly because he's the most attention-grabbing. She lets out a low breath and murmurs, mostly for Paxim and Kasadel, "That blue might-" oh. Wait. And it seems to have figured out what it wants. "Oh, I am so sorry," is mostly congratulatory with a smidge of condolences. Fracturing in hundreds of tiny cracks, the Sweet Dreams Egg gives way to its large periwinkle-blue hatchling all on its own, without being hurried by any of its brethren. His angular head turns to take stock of the situation, and then he moves with great self-possession along a line of candidates to take charge of a skinny High Reaches child. Though barely old enough to have been Searched at all, little M'dio doesn't need any prompting to shout Mnoseth's name. Kasadel shakes his head - "Look, there, he just did. To /Eila/. Man... Hope she's up for it. Congratulations, Eila!" This last is in a raised voice, the rest much quieter, and then he goes back to the quieter tone. "She won't. Me and my bronze, we'll beat off any silly green, no matter how nasty she is." His confidence is tinged with amusement as he says this, light and easy, only the hint of a verbal swagger. "Are they heading this way?" The bronze and green, presumably. Eila is so ready to dodge that approaching hatchling that she freezes once blue forepaws press on her shoulders, head very slowly craning downward to meet... Kelerith. She doesn't speak, not aloud, but the once-nanny - now weyrling - does swivel her head about to meet those congratulations (or commiserations?) with a weak smile. C'mryn, having followed that blue with both eyes and careful steps, is right there to greet Eila as she's Impressed. "Congratulations," he tells her with a grin, eyes going between weyrling and dragon. "Come this way, OK? Kelerith needs some food, doesn't he? Bet he's starved..." Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze doesn't engage in any swishing, unlike his blue brother of Eila's, although that galloping... verging away from his clawed sister, he lurches without quickening his pace, not with the uneven footing of the sand. Further. Is she still following, when he slams to a stop shortly before a short dark-haired Igenite near Sunniva and Hali? Is she still following when he sniffs him over, gives a frustrated shake to his head, and continues? Further. Heading for a pair of young men. Question is, will he get there first. Paxim watches the little green stalking the bronze. "Of course they are, so the bronze can Impress to me and that green can eat you." Ever smug, he cranes his neck to catch sight of Eila, "Shards, poor Eila. All of that energy.." He shakes his head and hollers a congrats to the new bluerider. Kelerith noses happily at Eila, head butting into her shoulder as he lets out some happy little chirpy squeaky sounds. C'mryn is eyed with blatant mistrust, eyes tinging red and he practically growls at the assistant. Beauty's Price Egg continues to slough off its unsightly green shell, becoming somewhat more grotesque as the remaining exterior is overcome with thick, viscous contents. Larger sections begin to break away, leaving a rather more attractive green blob on the sands in the vague shape of a dragon. >---< Girl By the Sea Green >------------------------------------------------< At a master's hands she was carved of stone and now the immeasurable passage of time seems to have left its marks on this green. Her instinctive poise lends an air of immobility to her lithe, athletic figure, yet her movements are free and fluid, unrestrained by her statuesque appearance. Rich undercurrents of gray are so covered with verdigris that the combination ever reveals new shades of oceanic green across the shapely curves of her shoulders and haunches. Neckridges have been eroded, softening their points, and at their bases have accumulated a glittering gathering of ancient salts. In the translucence of her wings, tightly repeated waves of color create the illusion of scales in their undulating sheen. Her face received special care from her sculptor; noble and elegant are her features, accented by long, curved headknobs. Clear, perceptive eyes are rimmed with an adamantine pallor that lends an otherworldly glow to her gaze. >----------------------------------------------------------------------------< Sunniva's breath catches and holds when the bronze comes close, the young woman daring to take a slight step /back/, just to be on the safe side. "Oh, he-" but all ability to articulate herself has fled and she shuts her mouth. A sidelong look to Hali, then to the boys, before settling on folding her arms about her middle and returning to her vigil of watching eggs. And that "Oh, she is a lovely one, isn't she?" she thinks. Squint. Girl By the Sea Green can't help but walk awkwardly as she makes her way from the egg she'd just hatched from. Though there may be bits of shell still stuck to her, she remains proud, not letting a bit of goo or shell stop her. She lets her wings stretch out briefly, testing them out. Bringing her wings back to her body, she moves onward. There is, however, no denying her ability to look poised in spite of everything, even that goo that quickly slides off her body. Unlike some of her brothers and sisters, her progress is slow, steady. A pair of greens hatch on opposite ends of the clutch, one from the forbidding Wooden Watcher Egg and the other from the Dual Demeanor Egg, and in the end cross paths along the broken line of candidates. The first trails wet wings the veined shade of good Lemos jade in her hurry, but still makes time to snap aggressively at her chartreuse sister before claiming a Tillekian in his mid-twenties, wrapping so tightly about tall U'zin that it takes a prod from one of I'daur's assistants to get him and Anairith off the sands. The other ignores her clutchmate in favor of regarding the candidates more cooly, choosily, sweeping past a worried High Reaches girl in favor of her no- longer-nonchalant brother. He'll be known as G'gor now. Paelath's. C'mryn wags a finger at Kelerith. "None of that, baby blue. I've got a much bigger beastie, hm? Move on now." Hali takes a step back along with Sunniva, not letting herself be the one to stand out. "Where's he going?" She asks it, but doesn't expect an answer. Her focus on the bronze and her own safety means she misses the hatching of the greens. Kasadel huffs out another long breath, shaking his head. "Whatever," he tells Paxim, rolling his eyes in a gesture of utter distaste, shuffling a little further from the other boy, as if he's now really well and truly decided that the other candidate is bad news. "No, I think they really are heading for us." Satisfaction rings in his tone, and pleasure - and some real excitement, finally. "Come on, little bronze. Right here, waiting for you!" Paxim looks up and sighs as another green hatches, shaking his head. "Well, at this rate, Sunni, you've /got/ to Impress. All these greens, surely there's one for you." He hesitates, eyes the slinking, clawed thing coming this way, and his mouth turns down, "Though, I hope not that one. She looks like trouble." He glares at Kasadel, "They aren't /firelizards/, stupid, you can't just call them and hope they'll come!" X'lar watches the continuing progress of the Hatching, chuckling softly as Eila Impresses. "Shells, I doubt she needs me as a human body guard from snowball fights /now/." He gives Lujayn another grin before glancing back toward the sands again, taking everything in happily, his lips upturned into a firm grin. Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze stops just in time, his wings stretching again as counterweight, all pasty greeny-bronze skin and bone, but balancing him all the same. Right before the teenager who's moved away, making it all easier, his hatchling breath heavy in his face. He came. And now he takes a deeper breath. Sniffing him. Breathing in his responses. Making /sure/. That boy, waiting for him? Does he really, /really/ know what he's in for? They'll just have to see. Kinetic Knucklebones Bronze closes what distance remains between himself and that boy as angular as he is, the one with those long lashes and soft toffee curls. Except. He does it without being seen to move: gone still for once in his admittedly short life, all but for the upwelling of lavender-blue in his dark red-ringed eyes. K'del says, sounding imperious, "I know that, stupid. I--" Then he breaks off, because that bronze really /was/ coming for him, straight for him, and now: he lets out a long, deep sighing breath, taking in that hatching-breath, and all the rest. Still. Silent. Barely breathing, after that long breath. Then, eyes wider than they've ever been, hand tentative as it reaches out, and then, triumphant, and utterly sure, he grins. "Cadejoth. I /knew/." Sunniva fixes a fleeting, wan look to Paxim. "We shall see," is all she can say, a glance being given to what remains on the sands. The bronze's quest seems to have stopped and that's where her attention goes -- along with a gleeful, "Oh! Oh, well done!" -- but that lovely green out there is eye-catching enough to be worth sneaking a few looks to. Fierce Phantom Green crabs, squawking quiet scurrs as uncoordinated wings flip to try and stay in place against her spine as she shadows her larger brother. He stops to sniff and she rocks precariously, tail swaying as it barely helps her keep her balance. Not still following, but circling around through strewn shards - perhaps in a failed attempt to cut him off. Yet even when he stops, she continues onward. Most of the eggs have hatched by now, but the Vicarious Vaudevillian Egg won't be the last. It turns upon the sands, and turns again, revealing one last glimpse of that uncanny inky smile before splitting right down the middle: its last trick, fouling the wings of the brown dragon that emerges... before he tramples it irretrievably into shards. Sometimes people do get what they wish for, more or less: Leova eases past a local girl to intercept K'del and his.. "Cadejoth," she repeats, just in time to hear. "This way: let's get you out of her way." Paxim looks positively aghast when the bronze doesn't just /come/, but actually Impresses to Kasadel. "Oh, for sharding out loud. Have to be a dumb bronze to go for that sack of meat." He folds his arms and lifts his chin, nose thrust into the air. His blue eyes settle on the sands, lips pressing together. "I bet my bronze will be much smarter." Girl By the Sea Green continues her slow, steady search on the sands, seemingly with such a narrow-minded purpose. One hiss of frustration erupts from her maw as she peers at her surroundings with ever-perceptive eyes. Each paw of hers sinks into the sand with such grace and determination, one after the other. Suddenly, however, the poised green hatchling stops and examines the sand beneath her before she even considers attending to the candidates further. Nothing escapes her focused attention, not her brothers and sisters and not the candidates before her. Her body shifts so slowly, it's almost as if she undulates across the sands with as slow as she moves. K'del is too distracted to note reactions, even Paxim's, and even gives Leova a very blank look for a long moment before he manages to nod. His attention almost immediately heads back to the bronze - /his/ bronze - but they manage to get motion together, heading off as directed. "Right. Before she does any-- Oh. Yes." Lost for words. |
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