NorCon MUSH - User contributions [en]

Dragon:Rhiviyth

2015-04-20T23:44:47Z

Castandcrew: Created page with "{{Dragon |name=A Fine Time To Be Green Rhiviyth |impressee=Rook |date=18 April 2015 |egg=Monument to Perfect Lines Egg |size=20.2 |dam=Gold Niahvth |sire=A Study in Bronze Rei..."

{{Dragon
|name=A Fine Time To Be Green Rhiviyth
|impressee=Rook
|date=18 April 2015
|egg=Monument to Perfect Lines Egg
|size=20.2
|dam=Gold Niahvth
|sire=A Study in Bronze Reisoth
|egg credit=Lilah
|dragon credit=Rook}}

== ?? EGG ==

DESC

''HMESSAGE''

== HNAME ==

==Temperament==

TEMPER

==Public Impression Message==

PUBIMP

==Private Impression Message==

PRIVIMP

==Mindvoice==

MINDVOICE

==Itchyspots==

ITCHYSPOTS

==Dragon Inspirations==

INSPIRATIONS

'''Egg Inspiration:''' EGG INSPIRATION

Rook

2015-04-20T16:22:18Z

Castandcrew:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=Rook.JPG
|position=Weyrling
|where=High Reaches Weyr
|Has rank=Dragonrider
|dragon=A Fine Time To Be Green Rhiviyth
|birthplace=Icemelt Cothold
|mother=Raulynne
|father=Okev
|siblings=Lots.
|children=N/A
|friends=N/A
|playedby=Shailene Woodley
|status=Active
}}
== Description ==
She's the girl next door, Rook, with sunkissed skin and russet hair falling shaggy past her shoulders. Possessed of a visible innocence and light hazel eyes, she falls short of true beauty, though her features are symmetrical and bear a sense of pretty femininity. Maybe it's because she's short: she barely tops five feet on a good day -- and in good boots. There's a whisper of curves to her, but not so much that it distracts from the lean length of her lines: despite her height-challenged status, she was even shorter recently, and seems to be just now getting caught up.

== WYSK ==
In progress~

== Introduction ==
Brought into High Reaches' candidate ranks just in time for lunch -- er -- the hatching, Rook hadn't had time enough to properly introduce herself to her fellow candidates before Rhiviyth claimed her with all the ferocious possession of her (very green) soul.

In the time since the hatching, it's become obvious that Rook is the quintessential farm girl: she hails from a provincial little cothold up near the northern wastes, technically Crom but really just hillbilly, and she has all the raising due a lass never expected to more than milk the cows and make babies.

Those overtly literate, beware: she's probably going to ask quite a lot of painful questions over the course of weyrlinghood. Or maybe not: she seems peculiarly shy in many ways, and outgoing in others.

== Relationships ==
TBD.

== RP Logs ==

{{NewLogs |name={{BASEPAGENAME}}}}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
{{Character-Categories
|Categories=Active Characters, Greenriders, Flurry Wing
}}

Iaevri

2014-09-26T18:58:13Z

Castandcrew:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=iae.jpg
|position=Infirmary Aide
|craft=
|birthplace=High Reaches Weyr
|mother=Inava
|father=Z'yi
|siblings=
|children=
|friends=
|playedby=Margaret Qualley
|livejournal=
|face=iae.jpg
}}
== Description ==
Here the sweep of dark hair, there the glow of light eyes, cast against the sweet pallor of smooth, fair skin. Iaevri blends into a crowd with her kind of everyday pretty, a homely sort of beauty that delineates itself with the thick sweep of dark brow, the straightness of long nose, the sumptuous richness of pouty lips... none of these enough on their own, but combining for a pleasing aesthetic, if not particularly striking. Her face still shows the lingering touch of baby-fat, in contrast to coltish limbs and the new-blossoming blush of womanly curves. She's of middling height, unassuming.

== WYSK ==
Iaevri is 'Reaches-born, the daughter of a Snowdrift bluerider and an assistant headwoman. Not close to either of her parents, she has spent her life to this point doing odds and ends for the Healers, without ever //quite// having been apprenticed to the craft. One has the feeling it is something that is coming to a head.

== History ==
TBD

== Relationships ==
TBD

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

{{Categories}}

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Greater_Pern]]
[[Category:High_Reaches_Area]]
[[Category:High_Reaches_Weyr]]

2013-06-02T18:35:34Z

2013-03-18T05:01:27Z

Castandcrew: Created page with "{{ Log | who = N'hax, Quinlys, Jhorinth, Iesaryth, Olveraeth | where = Eastern Bowl | what = N'hax and Quinlys chat; Jhorinth learns that he could be quieter. | when = It is a..."

{{ Log
| who = N'hax, Quinlys, Jhorinth, Iesaryth, Olveraeth
| where = Eastern Bowl
| what = N'hax and Quinlys chat; Jhorinth learns that he could be quieter.
| when = It is a spring night, 20:59 of day 7, month 4, turn 31 of Interval 10.
| gamedate = 2013.03.17
| quote = It's hard at first - I remember. And I went into it knowing what I wanted. It really does get easier, though.
| weather = A spring flurry brings in a little late snowfall, though there is no accumulation as the flakes spiral to the ground on a dizzying breeze.
| categories =
| mentions = Iolene, Iesaryth,
| ooc =
| icons = quinlys smug.jpeg, quinlys olveraeth stars.jpeg, n'hax dirty.jpg, jhorinth protector.JPG, aishani iesaryth firewater.png
| log =

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

----

So much for spring, right? But at least the snow isn't actually accumulating, even if that's less fun for baby dragons. There are a few of them out and about, this afternoon, getting in some exercise before it's time to resume the (endless!) procession of feeding, oiling and bathing. Keeping watch, just in case, is Quinlys, who is half-leaning against the wall near the barracks entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. Olveraeth is here, too, though the blue has co-opted a ledge not too far off the ground: the perfect vantage point to watch little dragons at play.

Six days old, and Jhorinth is tumbling around like a three-month-old puppy, this way and that, carrying his beautiful brawn in barreling maneuvers in an excessively focused tactical assault against the flurrying snowflakes. N'hax is in the middle, the dragonet's charges to-and-fro mapping out a vague circle about the once-Smith. Upon noticing Quinlys, the tall man starts towards the barracks entrance, and Jhorinth executes a broad arching flanking maneuver, his attention obnoxiously obvious and focused upon Quinlys: the Latest Target. A grin creases N'hax's face, and he lifts his hand in greeting, ignoring Jhor's anctics. "Weyrlingmaster."

"I get the feeling I'm being-- stalked? No, not quite the right word. Targetted, maybe," says Quinlys, teasingly, as her gaze slides over N'hax and his flanking bronze. "Should I be afraid? Afternoon, N'hax. Everything going okay?" She straightens, tracking the young dragon's movements with her eyes for several more seconds before she returns blue-eyed attention to N'hax. Above, Olveraeth leans forward, following the blue with ''his'' gaze, and then wondering, star-struck and only faintly nasal, << Are you going to catch her, young Jhorinth? She'll squeal. >>

"He's keeping an eye on you," N'hax intones, deepening the inflection of his voice to approximate the husky rasp of Jhorinth's tone. It's almost ruint by the laughter, so ill-concealed. The bronzelet, for his credit, doesn't seem terribly put-off by his lifemate's souring of his actions, instead mantling his wings to increase the perception of his mass and starting in with a slow, measured stalk. << I'm practicing, >> is returned with a hiss of quenched-metal and faint spark of banked coals; so ''focused''. << N'hax says that practice makes the master. >> Beat. << But he's not. >> Making Master, that is. Thumb-and-forefinger bridge to flex at temples, and wryly N'hax slants a gaze to Quinlys. "Everything's going as well as to be expected... I think. He's growing like a weed."

Triumph spikes victoriously, hair-raising electricity arcing among Olveraeth's stars as heat-lightning, raising the scent of ozone. << I ''told'' him that.>> Such a plaintive baby, Jhorinth, though the foundation is there for More. He seems to take Quinlys' words very seriously, and walks up with less of a stalk, folding his wings back and presenting his wedge head for inspection, somewhere about the level of Quin's midrift. N'hax, meanwhile, has largely ignored Jhor's antics, eyes settled upon the weyrlingmaster with - thought. "He watches ''everything'', already." A wearied hint to his voice. "It's hard to think he'l going to be so ''very'' big, someday." He shakes his head. "Was Olveraeth one to get in trouble, as a baby?"

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Jhorinth is one of those perpetual noises just at the threshold of awareness: the quench is part-and-parcel of the clockwork intricacy of his forge-like presence, the tang of saltwater an inheritence that will always link like-to-like. The sizzle of hot metal is an unconscious spike, the projection of his excited thoughts bubbling over to a natural link that he seems more unwilling to blockade off than others may. Faintly, as if bleedover on a poor telephone line: << ... ''told'' him that! >> His indoor voice isn't ''quite'' perfected, yet.

To the ozone, Olveraeth adds something foreign: tangy and metallic, but nothing like the metal Jhorinth knows already. << Sometimes, it takes them time to understand, >> he says, soothingly. << They over-complicate things. He will understand in time. >> Quinlys' amusement intensifies as Jhorinth approaches so, and she reaches down to rub at his headknobs with quiet affection, rather as she might with a puppy. "Olly wanted to know about everything. How it worked, why it worked. He drove me crazy with the questions, sometimes, and the observations. The watching. It's hard at first - I remember. And I went into it knowing what I wanted. It really does get easier, though."

Dragon> Ever-present over the Weyr, Iesaryth is even more so in the consciousnesses of her progeny now, ocean's warmth and ebb and flow of the tides never far. But she's not overbearing, no; they are hers and she is ''brilliant'', therefore it only stands to reason that they would be the same. Sea breezes thread through the forge's steam, carry it up in amusement, light tenor as bright as any sunny day. << I will remember that. >> Or Shan will, and she'll take it when she needs it. Whatever. (Iesaryth to Jhorinth)

A marvel: Jhorinth absorbs himself with testing this, ''tasting'' this foreign element with a ferocious intensity. His reply is thereby distracted-- << I do think he will. He's smart. Strong. >> Abruptly: << What ''is'' this, Olver-- >> His question is cut-off by Quinlys' attentions, his mindvoice blanking out in surprise and pleased emotion. N'hax's face hitches into a grin. "Sounds similar. He watches everything, and asks questions," pause, "And sometimes shares answers he shouldn't." Wry. "I'm glad to hear it will. He's... incessant. He also says thank-you, very much, and that you," -- there's a pause here, N'hax clears his throat -- "Ah, smell good." That's a HIGH level compliment, there.

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Jhorinth floats buoyant for the moment, as an oil-slick lying atop heavy water, the sharp tang of metal and salt and ash still present. There's wordless surprise: !!!, before an aw-shucks-mom dash of awkward embarassment. He isn't stilted with his words, though; bass thrum as the rasp of steel over stone, blurring the edges not water-worn: << I am very sorry, Iesaryth. I will endeavor to be... >> Hesitation, briefly, << ... quieter. >>

Olveraeth would answer-- no doubt ''will'' answer-- but he's distracted by Jhorinth's pleasure, his thoughts rippling under the mirth he feels. << The stars, young Jhorinth, >> he says. << When you get close... >> Starstuff. How ''accurate'' his sense of it is, well... that scarcely matters, surely. "I ''smell'' good? Well--" Quinlys' mouth twitches. "I'm delighted to hear that. Thank you, Jhorinth. Olly was always pretty good about personal stuff, I guess, but he drove a lot of us mad with his explorations. I'm ''pretty'' sure he helped Ysavaeth work out how to do her queen-thing; he thought it was wonderful fun, whatever it was they were doing." It twists her mouth, ruefully, but only for a moment. "You'll work out a balance. Between you."

Dragon> To Jhorinth, Iesaryth is all sparkly-bright on endless waves, a perfect summer day. She's thrilled, fish-thoughts beneath the waves busily moving, constant. ''She'' doesn't mind, but she can see how he might. << Jhorinth. >> Warm, fond; << Don't be sorry. Just be... quieter. >> But there's no sense that she's serious at all. She just thinks it's funny.

There's a sudden underlying sense of embarassment from the young bronze, sourceless except for an intense spike of self-berating emotion. Unwontedly self-conscious: << It is very interesting, >> the stuff of stars! His head bows and he stalks off a step or two from Quinlys, staring off to those who chase snow-flurries, such an abrupt change of emotion that N'hax stares after him for a moment, then shakes his head with a sudden smile. "Ysavaeth?" is his inquiry, brow furrowed. He doesn't follow - not as though riders have been forthcoming regarding that whole ordeal - but doesn't press. "I have faith," he instead comments, "That we will figure one-another out before ''some'' of the others. Though I'm sure you'd know that better than I would," with light amusement.

Dragon> To Iesaryth, Jhorinth can't help but sidle silver strands of thought towards those quicksilver fish-flickers, but he's still reserved elsewise, that embarassment (and a touch of self-berating spirit) flavoring the smoke rising from his oil-bubble floatation device. << Yes, Iesaryth, >> has all the same cadence of a dutiful son, well-and-truly chided. He isn't timid - Faranth is he never ''that'' - but there is something tentative in how he doesn't sever his connection straightaway, looking for a graceful way to save-face: << I do hope the evening suits you, tonight. >>

Tracking that self-beration, attempting to seek it back to the source with a swirl of blue-gold stars, Olveraeth's question is not precisely verbalised. << It is, >> he says, instead. Quinlys drops her hand, letting it slide to her side, and then back up to her pocket. "Iolene was my clutchmate. We were-- friends, I suppose, but I guess we saw less of each other towards the end. Before she died. She was... good at imposing her will on others, Ysavaeth, I think." If only Quinlys knew exactly ''how'' well. But, alas, she does not. "I imagine if you didn't have faith, the world would be feeling pretty-- hard, right now."

Dragon> There's so many of them, it's really a little... disturbing. Large and small, different colors, flickering just beneath the surface and swimming lower still. Just at the tops of the waves, there's little flickers of his clutchmate, small and brown; her Shan, her thoughts of ''going'', being ''away''; the sense of bigger, wider things that are harder to define, always being considered. Iesaryth is always thinking. Where some queens, some mothers might feel satisfaction at a correction, she's less worried about that; she just wants Jhorinth to be as he is. << The air above the clouds is cold and clear. We could go anywhere. You speak back to me. >> Unlike when he was in the egg. << Tonight is a good night. >> (Iesaryth to Jhorinth)

Despite himself, the problem is laughably apparent, because Jhorinth simply hasn't mastered this whole 'quiet talking' thing; there's a touch of hesitance in the faint overlap from a different conversation: << ... suits you, tonight. >> Oh! ''Olveraeth''! << Sorry, >> tuned-in this time. << I think too loud. >> It's almost frightening, how unmerciful the thought is, self-directed. N'hax shifts his gaze to his lifemate again, smile dying on his face as Quin talks. "Oh." He's not quite awkward, but he's not quite /not/ awkward, either. "I'm sorry," he tentatively offers. An attempt to lighten the mood comes forth with a wry, "Ysavaeth sounds like she took lessons from my mother." The smile is inward-focused, and slight. "It... isn't what I was expecting, that's for sure." The world. Jhorinth. ''This''.

Dragon> It isn't within Jhorinth to craft a net to catch one of those fish-thoughts, or construct anything more than a faint filament of conductive material to be sent beneath the waves on risk of corrosion and being carried away. So that is what he does, touching upon one of those whale-beasts below, a grand idea so wide that he shies away from it nearly immediately upon contact. << I heard you, >> is an answer to a question unasked, a rare-cut gem *plinking* into the ocean, the faintest memory: liquid-minded and foggy, fading even now; the amniotic sense of faintest frustration and maternal love. ''Iesaryth''. << Someday, >> his voice is wistful, << We will fly with you above the clouds, in the clear cold air. >> A sense of finality, a flare of grateful warmth, and he's receding on the forward edge of her tides, drawn back to his own here-and-now. (Jhorinth to Iesaryth)

Dragon> That he ''heard'', that makes her satisfied. It wasn't for nothing. Iesaryth is confident of ''flying'' as well, of going to other places. << You will. >> That's certain, though sympathetic, because she ''knows'' - and she too fades her presence to the distant roar of waves. (Iesaryth to Jhorinth)

Olveraeth's reaction is amused. << It's fine, >> he assures the smaller dragon. << Finesse is difficult, at first. You will learn. You're young, yet. There is time. >> It's ''fine'', in other words. Don't beat yourself up over it. "It's fine," Quinlys reassures, hastily, unconsciously echoing her own dragon. "We weren't ''that'' close, not by the end. These things-- it's just fine." She straightens further, taking a half step away from the wall, though her gaze remains loosely afixed upon the weyrling. "Ysavaeth took lessons from a lot of people. No," she tilts her head to one side. "I bet it isn't. It's not... it just is. I'm sorry."

Ferocious self-disciplining shows a tightening in the spectrum, so to speak, but Jhorinth isn't without ''some'' comprehension of Olveraeth's sympathy. << I will. I know. >> He just wants to be perfect, ''now''! << Iesaryth is so very nice, >> he tacks on, an element of what calms his riled soul the combination of starforged assurance and the warm confidence of the tides. N'hax has no such calming influences, though his eyes drift back every so often to Jhorinth until he seems to have himself back under control. "People grow apart. My cohort back at the hall," he starts, before drifting off and shaking his head. Bad path to go down. A forced smile, then, lopsided. "I'm not... ''sorry''. Not for Jhorinth." A surprising fierceness, given the mellow man; "I wouldn't think it, before. It's just... ''different''."

<< She is, >> confirms the blue, pleased with the idea-- and with the queen in general. << You are lucky to have such a dam. >> Olveraeth has no recollection of his own, only that she is no longer at High Reaches; no longer of importance. No doubt he could find out more, but... he's not young. He has no need for such things. "People do. You'll be close with your fellow weyrlings for a time, but... you'll lose track of some of them, post graduation. It happens. No, I know you're not sorry to have him." Quinlys' smile twists. "I've never known a rider who was. But-- different, yes. It-- ''shards''." There's a squeal from one of the other weyrlings, further out in the bowl: a little green has tripped over her wings. "I gotta run. But - look after yourself, N'hax, okay? And come talk if you need to."

<< I am, >> Jhorinth states, fierce in his loyal support - equally as intense with his next statement. << I'm lucky to have such a weyrlingmaster, too. >> His staunch dedication isn't without a sense of humor: << After all, Isath is ''such'' a wellspring of information, isn't she? >> Ba-dum-ching. He should forge himself a halo. N'hax nods at Quinlys, a look of brief apology on his face; to have kept her, to have voiced his issues? All of the above, perhaps. "Of course. I will!" He casts a glance towards the green; "-- and good luck." A wry smile, before he goes off to collect his own lifemate and head back indoors.

<< You shut up, >> says Olveraeth, but he's heartily amused. His rider would probably be less so, but... she's not listening to ''this'', thankfully. She's busy, hurrying off across the bowl towards the poor green.

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

Logs:Hraedhyth and Szadath and Iesaryth and Arekoth's Clutches Hatch

2013-03-16T18:45:47Z

Castandcrew:

{{ Log
| who = Alida, Azaylia, Brieli, C'wlin, Devaki, D'kan, Hana, Jo, K'zin, Liv, Madilla, Mave, N'hax, N'ky, Quinlys, R'hin, Taikrin, Tiziano
| where = Hatching Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
| what = The eggs hatch!
| when = Day 1, Month 4, Turn 31
| gamedate = 2013.03.15
| quote =
| weather =
| categories = Hatching, Clutch 34
| mentions =
| ooc =
| icons = c'wlin_woah.png, n'ky_huh.jpg, n'hax determination.JPG
| log = Dragon> It's sudden, but once it starts, Hraedhyth's gutteral hum can be ''felt'' in the minds of her tribe. Their tribe. It's a joyful sound tainted only by the Dam's need to protect, her strength felt in every drumbeat. It's ''time''. (Hraedhyth to all High Reaches dragons)

Dragon> To all High Reaches dragons, Iesaryth's attention has not been as much on the eggs as the other dam, so the water's roar shifts into a hum moments after the drumbeats are underscored by it; she doesn't need to protect - she wants them to come ''out''. Out, out and be DRAGONS already, GOD. Please don't keep them IN THERE, Hraedhyth.

It's not yet light when the chorus of dragons take up their song: first just a handful of hums, and then steadily more until it's every dragon (or close enough to), voices of all timbres and in every range. It's audible even deep within the bowels of the Weyr, where sound bounces off one stone wall to another, ever increasing in intensity. For those who have never heard such a thing, perhaps it's terrifying-- but for everyone else, it can mean only one thing: it's time.

In the galleries, It's not so long after the humming begins that Madilla, with a small boy at her hip and a taller girl striding alongside her, arrives in the galleries. She and the children take a quick seat relatively close to the front-- Lilabet squirms in excitement beside her, pointing at the eggs that are already shifting, just quietly, down on the sands.

In the galleries, It takes some time for the High Reaches Hold continent to arrive, primarily due to the hour and the need -- of course -- to be appropriately attired. One of the benefits of rank, however, is having a guaranteed spot right near the front, and so the Lords Braeden and Devaki, along with their wives Yuliye and Issedi make their way down to the front row, pausing to greet familiar Holders and others of rank as they pass by.

In the galleries, Since groups are arriving to this thing, quickly filling up the rows, the convict rider group seem to manage to slip in and linger in the shadowy part of the galleries to watch: Kaitlin, M'ron, and Jo. The latter of the pair is in her black leathers, leaning against the wall and generally keeping out of the way while various persons pass by to grab a seat.

In the galleries, Liv is one of those passersby, and in passing by Jo's group she smiles quickly at them, but mostly the bluerider. Her seat is found quickly, she didn't come with anyone and singles are always easier.

In the galleries, Being of no rank whatsoever, nor with any burly men to clear a route for her, Mave looks particularly frazzled arriving, still hopping into one boot, a hand raking at her hair. Dressed sloppily, but who's looking; the action being over the railing, on the sands, where her eyes travel sharply even as she tries to elbow-nudge others out of her way, pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket for reference and brandishing it as if it were a knot.

The What's the Matter egg pivots on its base, a great rolling red eye within a socket of sand. There's a dull, tactical tapping from within... and then it's still again. The Bonified To Be Humerus egg nudges up against its neighbor, its 'grin' nearly touching the other shell as though whispering some secret. Audibly. It's only the dragonet scrabbling inside, though... right?

Next to Arekoth on the sands, Iesaryth is ''excited''. This would not be noteworthy, but for the sun-touched queen's usually placid demeanor, which is not on display now - her wings rustle impatiently, her bright, whirling gaze on the eggs now, her interest in the galleries gone entirely. The eggs are moving, the whole Weyr waits upon them and finally, ''finally'', if she bespeaks them, they'll likely talk back. They're ''interesting'' now! She's definitely entertaining Brieli, who's dressed in gold to match her lifemate, and seems to share her sense of giddy anticipation. The (Acting) Weyrwoman ''can'' smile, and the wide one she wears right now is quite brilliant - and it only widens on spotting a certain Fortian bronze pair landing on the ledges high above.

In the galleries, Along with all the other arrivals, there's a contingent from Monaco, noisily laughing and jostling as they arrive. R'hin's probably the most recognizable amongst them, greeting many of the older High Reaches riders with an easy familiarity. That group seems content to find a spot near the back of the galleries -- which is probably for the best given their chatter.

Xhaeon doesn't necessarily stumble onto the Sands, but it's a near miss. He's by himself, alone in a crowd -- for the moment. A familiar face is noted and Xhaeon draws to Wakizian as iron to starmetal; Smiths stick together, right? He bows to the clutchparents, hastily, and bumps the shorter candidate, briefly, with his shoulder. "This is crazy."

"Crap; they get right to it, don't they..?" Alida quips in her typical, clipped alto to Wakizian and Nicky as they all rush out onto the Sands, the blonde finishing up the lashing of her long runner's tail into its leather binding. Note how she's remaining a little farther away from the more grumpy of the queens.

There's no way to tell which egg ends up going first: it's one, two, three for the Flashing Lights, Untamed and Molded Glass Eggs, all hatching at once to leave behind two greens and a brown. The trio all go off in different directions, teetering between their as-yet unhatched siblings before - finally! - finding their matches.

In the galleries, There's some fussing about as the hold contingent settle in their seats, Devaki making sure the ladies are seated before he begins to seat himself next to Braeden. There's a slight pause as he does so -- catching sight of a familiar little girl, he winks at Lilabet (whether or not she recognizes him in turn), gives a warm smile to Madilla, and... pauses briefly on the third figure, brow furrowed, before a word from Braeden draws him down into his seat.

In the galleries, Jo sends a nod with a curious smile Liv's way when she recognizes her, her dark gaze taking in who's present here along with those arrving out on the sands. M'ron is murmuring words her way and directing her to glance at certain people in the stands, making them notable. Her gaze doesn't linger on them, however, feathering over them in favor of the Monaco group arriving by where they are.

Nicky is holding Wakizian by the wrist with the Smith leading the way out onto the Sands - he looks both nervous and excited, looking over his shoulder to see where Alida is. When they make it into the line-up of candidates waiting for the eggs, he knows he's got his buddy on one side, but holds out his hand for Alida, beckoning for her to come in closer to the two of them, even if she won't take his hold of him. And then there's hatchlings! "''F-F-Faranth''," he gasps, gripping Waki's wrist tighter.

Quinlys follows the very last of the candidates out, breezing quietly through the passage and retiring to a position off to one side, with a handful of other assistants. She seems really quite pleased with herself-- and even more smug, when she can direct those assistants off towards the first of the new Impressions.

A strong, sharp talon erupts through the dark spot on the What's the Matter Egg, but it takes a bit more chipping and shoving at the cracks before the red shell completely disintegrates. The bronze hatchling left among the shards carefully rights himself, holding his head high to survey the situation around him.

== Above It All Bronze==

There's something sinister in how darkly weathered bronze hide mostly
masks the scheming curve of this dragonet's eyeridges, the intimidating
spread of his headknobs, the terrible sharpness of his muzzle. Equally
insidious gloom veils the wicked grip of his fore-talons, while the others
have withstood the same burnishing as his powerful shoulders and
hindquarters-- the latter so often draped by tarnished wingsails, that his
strength may be surreptitiously shielded by svelte and sinuous grace.

----

Seriously, who could miss the ''towering'' Xhaeon? Ceawlin follows closely behind the front of the group, but stands apart. Harpers are aloof, right? At least for the moment, anyway. A perfect bow is executed to the clutch parents. Perfect enough to make his craft proud. Then he steps to the side, a little off-step, a little overwhelmed. Not that his expression wants to admit this.

As the stands fill with bustling people, as candidates are lead onto ''her'' sands, Hraedhyth rises to her feet. The tawny gold's eyes are still touched by crimson even as she adds her throaty hum to the chorus of dragons. Her wings are half-cocked, casting many of the eggs in her protective shadow. Azaylia stands next to her queen, seemingly unaware at how unwelcoming her lifemate may seem. Dressed in bright turquoise and gold, the junior has one hand on Hraedhyth's forelimb, the other resting on Taikrin's arm. She's ''delighted''.

Tiziano steps out on the sands, hustling along with the group. For a few moments he forgets himself, just staring with awe and dumbstruck wonder at the sands and the bustling activity that is already occurring. Eggs are already hatching, dragons are already finding their riders. Spying the movements of the other candidates around him has Tiziano's memory coming back and he quickly gives a bow to both sets of clutchparents before making his way back towards Ceawlin. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm staying by you, kay?" Bros for life!

In the galleries, Madilla is quickly distracted by what's going on the sands, but Lilabet, in her excitement, is surveying ''everything'': that's how come she notices Devaki, brow furrowing for several moments before - finally! - she seems to put things together, suddenly beaming at him. It's probably a good thing Madilla is distracted, then, not to mention the little blonde boy in her lap.

Kaeden is just another candidate in the group of white-robed figures, coming in just a couple in front of Quinlys. He has just enough time to bow to the quartet of clutch parents before the eggs start spewing forth dragonets. There is a moment where he scans the galleries, but only that moment, then the action on the sands has his full attention.

Shuddering and twitching, the Snikt Egg performs a partial roll forward. It's just enough momentum to place a hairline fracture across that wicked silver cross, one that abruptly breaks further apart under the frenzied efforts of the dragon within. The narrow, insubstantial blue teeters to his feet, and then loses his footing altogether. It's fine, though: he ends up collapsed at the feet of one of the local girls, whose face breaks into a brilliant smile as she reaches down to cradle him, promising, "I've got you, Nhidanth."

Wakizian is laughing. Chalk is up to nightmare-laden sleep and sleepless nights, but the Smith's actually ''laughing'', gleefully. His expression is exhilarated. "You think this is crazy, just you wait. See?" He answers to Xhaeon, pointing at the eggs that crack. He wiggles his wrist out of Nicky's grip and replaces it with his hand. Unmanly as it might be, he holds the ferrier-turned-candidate's hand in the face of the not so wee dragons.

Szadath has guarded and guarded and guarded-- and, if truth be told, he is guarding still. He hulks just behind Hraedhyth's shoulder and, over the thrum that pulses his throat, ''watches''. Taikrin is more excited, with proud-papa smiles for Azaylia as she holds tightly to the younger woman's arm and murmurs encouragements.

Above It All Bronze takes a moment to observe his surroundings, then with a flick of his wing -- intended to dislodge a piece of errant shell -- he begins a determined path, not towards the candidates, but higher onto the mound of sand the eggs rest on. There, amongst the eggs of his soon-to-be-bothers and sisters, the bronze regards the semi-circle of white figures, content to observe from afar for the time being.

Xhaeon is left blinking in surprise. "What?" Eyebrows raise. "That was -- that was really fast." Impressions are FLYING. He's not. Hopping foot to foot, more of anxiety than anything else. "This is insane." To Ceawlin, to Waki, to Nicky, to Kaeden; to anyone. "He... looks like something to not mess with." That's about the latest bronze, a wary eye on the one who moves slower than the others.

Alida only edges forward towards Nicky when Hraedhyth doesn't glare at her, the guard's lower teeth absently filinf at her upper lip for a moment in her contained agitation. No, she doesn't nab Nicky's hand, nor does she do more than peer at Waki for a quick moment before those bursting, rocking eggs grab her heightened attention all over again. "Fast..." is remarked to herself...even as the bronze hatchling is sizing everybody up.

The skull-seeming shell splits right down the middle, as though hewn by some massive axe, only to splinter across the left eye socket and further fragment into thick, yellow-mottled shards. The Bonified To Be Humerus Egg is no more: the Death Before Dishonor blue dragonet spends a bare moment to orient himself before advancing red-eyed upon the candidates, sand already catching at and clinging to his still-sticky paws and wings.

==Death Before Dishonor Blue ==

He might have been carved from blue-sheened stone, if only he'd hold
still: a dragonet with the beginnings of a broad-shouldered physique, all
of him strongly built but for the long and slender tail that likes to move
just as much as do his coppery claws. His eyes, too, are quick and
splendid, if so deeply shadowed beneath his brows as to be difficult to
tell their hue upon a passing glance; the otherwise grayed blue of his
hide carries something of their sheen when the light strikes him just so,
a fine-grained, indicolite flash. Though his body has a polished air, the
irregular ridges down his short, strong neck are darker and rougher, as
though from naturally broken stone - while his immense wings carry a
gritty sort of opulence, labradorite that shimmers with twin eyes of
yellowed bronze upon opalescent teal, like an insect's predator-deceiving
disguise.

----

Nicky grips Wakizian's hand with white-knuckle tightness. "So f-fast," he stammers in response to Xhaeon and Alida, while he tries to keep track of both eggs and hatchlings.
Ceawlin is all ''alone'' -- wait. No he's not. Tiziano is ''right there''. "Yeah, fine." Somehow, Ceawlin has found a friend -- or rather, someone willing to tolerate his sharpness. Then: ''crack'' and, "Woah." Yeah, not the best response, but hey, he's still ''young''. He needs to grow into his Harper-ness. "You're telling me. I didn't realize they'd just bust out like that." Y'know. That ''fast''.

At least the dragons have to go to the candidates, not the other way around? Still, Brieli does give Hraedhyth a glance as she gets to her feet, fine brows arched a touch. Her gaze shifts to Azaylia with a bit of a questioning look - is everything all right? - then offers over another wide, unguarded smile. Delighted is too strong a word for the goldrider, but she's still ''pleased''.

Death Before Dishonor Blue shudders, not with pleasure, and scrapes his newfound limbs against each other: itching. Already. He hisses, head lifting and eyes bright red, and kicks at some errant shards by his paws as if ''they'' had caused it.
Wakizian is still laughing, his excitement rising as egg after egg shells its occupant, brown eyes darting to follow the movements of the dragons. "Blink and you'll miss it!" He informs the trio around him, all on their very first hatching. "Just keep your feet nimble." With a squeeze for Nicky's hand, he drops the hold, shifting on the sands to make it better able to avoid any clumsy newborns.

Tiziano takes two steps forward and then one step back as a bronze and then a blue breaks shell. He's breathing quite heavily at this point, the exhilaration of the moment getting to him. "Good, good." The candidate says to Ceawlin, basically on top of the Harper in his constant motion. "Shards, going too fast. Did they say it would be this fast? Cause this is really fast." Did he mention that this is fast?

The little fingers upon the Cheap Bauble Egg twitch and ripple as the hatchling within gives a forceful, testing nudge to the egg's shell. It teeters, shifting within the sand around it, and briefly seems likely to collapse over itself-- except that it stops, abruptly. Time to regroup. The Moon's Reflection Egg is rocked from within, and knocked to its side on the sands. It wobbles in its new position once, twice, and then stills. Waiting.

Xhaeon grits his teeth, obviously overwhelmed from everything going on and just as obviously not willing to succumb to the desire to run screaming. Teeth grind together, chin tucks towards his chest, and he very deliberately takes a deep breath. "This is ''really'' fast," he confirms Tiz's statement without looking at him.

In the galleries, Perhaps it's because of the well-dressed Holder contingent that Mave shoots them a vaguely guiltily look for her disheveled appearance, her half-done hair that she pushes at, often forgetting in order to lean forward, clutching at people's shoulders in order to peer over them if they're in the way. Eyes track the sands fairly efficiently, but her teeth won't let go of her lip, either.

Azaylia catches Brieli's glance, hand leaving her dragon in order to fan a distracted everything-is-alright at the other goldrider. As eggs continue to crack, she points, hugging up tight against Taikrin to babble excitedly in the brownrider's ear. Hraedhyth ''leans'' forward but takes no steps, hum passing through bared jaws. She finally chooses to keep her over-protective gaze pinned on those squirmy white ''things''. Candidates.

Alida's not squealing over each hatchling that pops or explodes from its egg, the woman's lizard part of her brain kicking in, inciting her to flex into a bit of a fighter's crouch. Not to beat the hatchlings, but to hurl herself out of their way, if they come in her direction. A small swallow tries to dislodge the small dryness in the blonde's throat at the feeling of being surrounded. "Nimble...yeah..." is murmured to both Waki and Nicky.

Above It All Bronze doesn't seem keen to give up his high ground -- not immediately, anyway -- though he does have to give ground as one of the eggs near him starts to crack. He starts to move again, and it first it might seem like he's finally making his way towards the candidates, but once he settles on another topped pile of sand it's clear he's just moving to a better vantage point from which to regard the situation.

Kaeden would seem in agreement regarding all the various comments about things going quickly. He doesn't bother commenting, though, just stands at his end of the semi-circular group and watches. Best way not to get trampled, after all. He promised.

The concerted efforts of the hatchling within the Weirdly Wonderful Egg have had it rocking back and forth for a few minutes, but now, finally, an almighty shove sends it rattling against the nearby Remnants of a Wish Egg: both shatter on impact. Left in their wake, a dainty green and her bulkier sister take their time in getting up and moving on, the latter finding a farmcraft boy soon after, the former wandering lost for several minutes before she finds her girl. The sickly bands of color on the Demonic Stink Egg shudder under pressure from within, unravelling into shards as the hatchling breaks through. Lichen-green and little, she crawls free of an egg that is still partially intact, head lifting with interest... and a hunger that turns her eyes to whirling rapidly red.

In the galleries, Hana leans forward from her spot from within the contigent of holders, eyes on those below - though later, there will probably be a glance to those with them in the galleries. But for now... it is more for the 'first hatching' idea, and so many things to watch all at once.

Wakizian's laughter dies down, though his grin is still wide. "Nicky, look!" He points towards the three greens, and then to the bronze moving about, "Think he likes the view as much as we do?" This is given to all the candidates within hearing range.

Nicky is mostly quiet when Wakizian lets go of him, rubbing his hands on his robe nervously. The comments from the other candidates are heard as he turns to look when he hears them, but he doesn't answer - perhaps because he doesn't trust his own tongue not to trip him up? But, the actions of the bronze do surprise him, and he proves he still has the ability to speak by stammering, "Wh-what's the b-b-bronze d-doing?" But he hardly has time to look to that one as even ''more'' hatchlings grace the sands.

Quinlys can't stay off to one side forever, however much fun it is to be supervisory; she assigns herself one of the next Impressions, drawing up alongside them to offer, brightly cheerful, assistance... and the promise of food. She's not long away though, hurrying back on with a near skip in her step.

Above it All Bronze finishes his final survey, and only then deigns to make his way down from his most recent mound of sand and out into the group of candidates. There is no more searching or hesitation; he executes his plan smoothly, marching up to a golden-haired harper and staring him in the face: the one he's chosen above all others.

Xhaeon isn't going to puke, isn't going to puke, isn't going to puke. "They should have let us eat breakfast first." That was to Kaeden. Because he's close, somehow. Physically. Like that. Maybe. And then there's staring, because staring should be done.

C'wlin eyeballs Tiziano, "Hey, watch your feet, buddy. The sands are hot enough without blow-dusting me with them." Ceawlin is like the cat that protests that something wants it, but really likes it. For real. Imagine the fluffiness -- anyway, the harper's attention is split between blue and bronze, and then the rest of the Candidates. Then there's greens! Green, blue, bronze, oh my! "It's happening almost too quickly to keep track of, except that one up there. Stepping on the other eggs -- I didn't know they did that." Then, all of a sudden. "Athimeroth is hungry?" Tiziano is nudged. "Did you -- wait." The world is ending. Ceawlin is /distracted/ and /overwhelmed/! Ahem. He stumbles. "''Oh'', Athimeroth. ''You'' are hungry." And C'wlin steps forward, touching finger to nose tip. Okay, there's wonder there!

Quinlys has, in fact, barely made it back onto the sands before-- ah yes, there's C'wlin and his new dragon, and she's pulling up alongside the pair of them, one hand on her hip, the other amusedly waggling in Athimeroth's direction. "Hey," she says. "Come on. Let's get him some food, okay?"

The shoddy grasp of those finger-like patterns upon the Cheap Bauble Egg breaks with a snap, faceted patterns in their not-quite-white sheen sent scattering as the egg falls to pieces. The hatchling left behind draws his wings more closely about him, lifting his narrow head to regard the world with interest. So ''this'' is what's out here!

With a nod for the other goldrider, Brieli goes back to watching the eggs and dragons, smile fading to a faint one, a bit sympathetic on the shifting candidates. Despite the occasion, she's not paying much attention to H'kon or Arekoth - but is that a shock? Iesaryth gives a little huff at Hraedhyth's ''leaning'', sitting back as if it'll help by contrast. They're coming out! Don't stop them! Geez. And then, another of hers has found his mate, and her humming rumble is smug.

Wakizian's laughter is back at Nicky's question. "Choosing!" Apparently. "Congratulations, Ceawlin!" The Smith whooooos in the Harper's direction.

==Alchemist's Prize Bronze==

He's physically unimposing, this slight and slender bronze, the kind of
dragon who could so easily have been outright skinny were it not for the
natural arch of his neck and the tailored curve of his narrow body. The
red-bronze of oxidized cinnabar sweeps across him: upon the aristrocratic
bent of his long, sharp face and pointed chin, where he wears his distant
lineage so distinctly; up and down each sculpted neckridge; and all the
way to the tip of that tail that has such a tendency to probe and pace
behind him. Except in flight, he wears his dark, dulled-bronze wings
tight, furled like a cloak-- and yet, outstretched, his wingspan is
impressive for his size, those wingsails abruptly lustrous as their deep
sheen catches any available light.

----

Alida blinks as that arrogant bronze picks Ceawlin, the woman's lips curling into a smirk as she is treated to the first of the candidates that she knows more than passingly Impressing. "One down..." is noted to the youth's surprised blurt.

Athimeroth seems quite pleased with his choice, if the proud way he holds his head is anything to judge by. Though he can't ''see'' as well here, and his head juts out past C'wlin's to try and get a better view of the goings' on. He ''is'' hungry, though, and while the sentiment of the Weyrlingmaster's words are understood, it doesn't take him long to start heading in that direction, with -- of course -- a pointed nudge to his rider's shoulder to get him moving, too.

C'wlin nods slowly, mind reeling from the force of the bronze's first mental touch. "Yes," tone's clipped not from usual entitlement but from sheer -- well. Hunger? Reeling? Pick your poison and out they go!

When that Cheap Bauble Egg finally hatches, the Death Before Dishonor blue abruptly moves further away from the shards in short, sharp motions that keep his paws held high as if, that way, they'd stay uncontaminated. He stares at some noisy candidates and then tosses his head, unimpressed. Next, his eyes light briefly upon those big adult dragons, but not in recognition, more as though they were massive mountains to be negotiated if necessary. And after that... after that, something or someone else has caught his eye, for he slinks lower to the sands as he approaches the candidates. Someone, or someone''s''.

Tiziano turns his head towards Ceawlin as he's nudged, and then there's this dragon that's there and his BFF is suddenly a dragonrider! Tiziano takes a respectful step back, "Shards, Ceawlin! He's... he's ''yours''!" There is some seriously awe in the lad's voice as he watches the bronzerider pair take off. He sidesteps closer to Xhaeon and whoever else is nearish. "Can you believe it? Bronze! My best bud is a ''bronzerider''!"

Kaeden really can't help but give Ceawlin-turned C'wlin a lopsided grin. "So much for those Masterharper plans," he comments in a wry tone to Xhaeon, though that's really all there's time left to say before he has to shift slightly. More impressions mean the candidate group is shrinking.

Huge Tracts of Land Egg bursts open abruptly, scattering egg goo everywhere - and especially about the strutting brown within. ''He'' is quick on his feet, sidling past the bigger dragons and his siblings in order to seek out the one he's interested in-- light-fingered Canie. This one? She didn't need to steal at all!

Alchemist's Prize Bronze shuffles his wings as he attempts to stand, attempting to pull them back this way-- no, ''this'' way!-- before he's finally more or less settled. He's no less sure on his feet, afterwards, but at least he seems less inclined to actually trip over himself. Tail twisting in the sand behind him, the little bronze creeps forward, head moving this way and that as he hunts through the Candidates. Not him. Not her. No. Where is ''his''? Is he (or she? IT?) hiding?

Xhaeon is still a little bit staring, after the ''Harper'' and his darkly-dangerous bronze. "Faranth," he breathes, a huff outwards through the nose; but maybe that's just because Tiz is coming closer. "I-- didn't see ''that'' coming."

Nicky nods at Waki - choosing, indeed! He calls out his congratulations to C'wlin, before turning his attention back to the other hatchlings, and the candidates that are chosen. The creeping bronze and the slinking blue are both watched, in between looking to the eggs yet to crack.

The You Might Vanish Away Egg cracks along the darker edges of its tendrils in long, ribbon-like wisps, but its former occupant proves to be as insubstantial-looking as her protective shell had been: all gossamer wings and hazy eyes, having a difficult time of it until a girl breathlessly breaks the line of candidates and helps the little green up. Meanwhile, the little lichen green clambers past some egg shards, poking her nose into them in a moment of brief interest; but no, that's not really what she's after. Something else. Something ''better''. She finds it quite by accident, running straight into Sabella's knees, meeting her eyes only when she falls backwards onto the sands. Success!

Wakizian's hand is extended out again, pointing towards blue then bronze, "Shells, but this is cooler than sitting in the galleries." The Smith's doofy grin continues, the pointing seeming to be a result of his keen interest embodied, and not necessarily an action he's conscious of. "Hey, look! CONGRATS, SABS!" He shouts.

Alida's not surprised, apparently, but Sabella's linking to a green, the guard simply shaking her head, remaining ready, and flicking her incisive, wide gaze all around at shells shatter, dragonettes roll into the world. "Don' get *too* caught up..." are her low, intense words to Waki and Nicky, who stand just before her.

The Death Before Dishonor dragonet steals up to a pair of boys, interrogating them with a series of whuffling snorts that send sand flying and their robe-hems flapping. He looks at them for an unsettling length of time, gauging by the shift in their expressions, though it can't be more than ten seconds and, with every second, that long tail becomes more and more... twitchy. Abruptly he turns and, his gaze lighting upon a pale-haired former guard, advances on ''her'' instead. Slowly. She has to know he's coming for her, and he will not be stopped until she's his.
Xhaeon opens mouth. Nothing comes out. "Was-- ''Sabs''." His voice is a little more hoarse. He hasn't seen the whole Alida thing. (Yet.) That doubtless will be MORE jaw-gapey. "I..." He shakes his head, edges a little closer to Tiziano.

Tiziano is a clinger, it's true. Not that he'd ever admit it. "Right? Never would've thought that." He states in response to Xhaeon, eyes back on the sands. The blue that was lingering around seems to have found his mark. There's another bronze as well, plus who knows what else. "Hard to keep track of all this." Hands are raised and his eyes are rubbed vigorously.

A line, too straight, breaks the rippled glow of Moon's Reflection Egg. Another hit, another crack running perpendicular to the first. And then, with a fierce, focused shove, a pudgy green splinters her egg's shell all around her, leaving only ''her'' glow in its place.'

==Straight To The Heart Green==

Shadowed, droughty grasslands ripple across rounded flanks, spreading
their faded hue across this green's sturdily-built back and sculpted
wings. Beneath the dimpled baby fat, she's most generously called
'big-boned': there's the promise of power to come in the long line of her
haunches and the curved line of her graceful neck. The brindled-sage
darkens over the mask of her face, highlighting the sleekness of her
muzzle and remarkably long headknobs. Lighter shades hold sway over the
backs of her wings, sage washing out towards grey as if left in the sun
too long-- or perpetually limned in dim, silvery light.

----

In the galleries, Issedi, like Hana, is fixed on the sands, excitedly pointing out each impression as it happens (or more often, after it happens). "This is much more exciting than the Harper tales had it," she's saying, clapping her hands delightedly, leaning forward to watch the wandering dragonets. Devaki's watching just as closely -- gaze lingering on the holders out there more than the dragons themselves.

The basic process of locomotion - one foot in front of the other, not falling down - seems to have clicked for the Alchemist's Prize Bronze, who is now managing to make his way around the sands without teetering toooooo much, this way or that. Or... it ''had'', anyway. He trips, now, ending up with a face full of sand, and an apparent intention to ''never move again'', once he's more or less righted himself.

She been cornered, and as such, Alida finds herself staggering backwards on booted feet as the blue hatchling stares her down...advances on her purposely. The look on the guard's face is classic in its wonder, joy...and outright *fear*, her proud and strong form actually huddling in on itself some as she tries to both accept and deny Ilicath's mind touch. "I... I..." is all the blonde manages to blurt out as her form breaks out in a sudden, massive sweat.

Wakizian started as caught up, not heeding Alida's words, and he ends up at totally carried away. You'd think it was him that Impressed as he stomps the sands, and spins about in a circle, crowing "Aliiiiiidaaaa!" Then laughter again, and to Nicky, then to Xhaeon, and then to Tiz, he says, "I told her so, I told her so!"

Hraedhyth is smug, and perhaps ''at'' Iesaryth, as another of hers stakes a claim. Though her pale head is turned for that flash of playful rivalry, one eye is kept on what's happening. She won't intervene unless she ''has'' to. Azaylia has abandoned her lifemate, arms wrapped around Taikrin in order to hug her close. As there's a squeeze whenever something exciting happens... the brownrider should wish for a speedy hatching.

Quinlys doesn't seem to be entirely sure ''what'' to think, on catching sight of Alida's Impression; certainly, those red brows quirk, as if deciding between smugness and surprise... or worse. Still, she approaches the newest pair with a skip in her step, and says, "I bet he's hungry. C'mon, let's get you both to the food, okay?"

Taikrin is tought. She can take it. She certainly doesn't seem to be protesting the close (very close) contact with Azaylia. If the Weyrleader (acting) looked any more smug, she might actually catch on fire.

In the galleries, Hana doesn't quite yelp, but when one of those she put money down on ends up cornered by a certain blue... "Wonderful!" The young woman doesn't quite bounce in her seat, but there is something to be said for 'one of theirs' being chosen by a dragonet.

The yellowy-gold of the Dabo! Egg gleams in the dim light of the hatching cavern as it shifts suddenly, tilting slowing in the sand to rest on its side. There's a noticeable, glistening ''lump'' in the shell's surface for but a moment before it begins to vibrate, the sand beneath spraying around it. Maybe ''this'' will work... Under the gaze of so many, Imprisoned Souls Egg gives a violent shudder, rousing twisted specters to attempt escape with even more fervor than before. The time for silent torment has passed, each steady twitch on the sands bringing forth a new slew of ghastly apparitions. Freedom is not so terribly far from those insubstantial, grasping wisps.

Now that things are moving along as they should be, Brieli doesn't even bother to try to pay attention to who's impressing to what; that's Iesaryth's job, and Quinlys' job besides. She's more interested, for a moment at least, in scanning the galleries to see if she can spot any notable groups up there; likewise squinting up at the ledges for dragons she recognizes. Yes, maybe waving at N'rov. She's ''allowed''. But she comes back to the sands in time to see Alida and her lifemate, fine brows arching. As for Iesaryth, she doesn't mind comparing dragons, but it's more like moms with baby pictures and stories of brilliance than real rivalry.

Ilicath doesn't need his newfound rider to speak his name: she ''knows'' it, after all. He reaches up, rubbing his muzzle against what he can find of Alida, his jaw but also the sides of his still-white teeth.

The little summer-sky blue that hatches from the Bright Idea Egg doesn't seem to know ''which'' way to turn: this way, that way, back around upon himself. In his confusion, he quite shoves past a group of candidates, arcing wide towards the... galleries? It's Lady Edeline's young cousin, Ennegan, widely considered a possible heir to her Hold, who throws himself past the barriers and towards the little dragon. "Khadrenoth," he yells, utterly oblivious to the problem his Impression has just caused. "Yes, you found me. I'm your N'gan."

It's the sight and sound of Quinlys - a rock right now if there ever was one - that manages to coax Alida out of her vaporlocked state, the young woman blinking owlishly as she finally nods..and walks almost wincingly alongside her precious blue...who she hasn't even touched yet.

Nicky doesn't like the wuffling up his robe and jumps away, towards Waki and away from Alida... in time for him to watch her Impress! "O-oh, ''A-Alida''?!" Is he right? Did the blue choose her? Either way, he edges away from the dragonet and former guard, towards Kaeden - and Alida confirms what he thought. "''Oh'', Alida! C-congratulations!" Nicky winds up between his dance partner and his best friend, looking no less worried now than he was when he first stepped onto the sands.

Xhaeon bumps shoulders with Tiz. "She looks..." The green. He gestures. Vaguely. His vagueness extends towards the green, and then, ONLY then does he notice... "''Alida''?"
There's a quiet squeal from young Lilabet when that blue starts coming for the galleries, rather as if she really expects-- but no. That dragon is not for ''her'' tender turns (thankfully), but for another: another that has more than a few raised eyebrows across the Galleries. "Wasn't that--" And, "''Oh''."

Straight To The Heart Green wastes no time in shaking off the destroyed shards of her former home. The motion is so vigorous, in fact, that she oversets herself entirely and ends up sitting back sharply on her rounded haunches. Hm. Her neck cranes backwards nearly to the vertical, and she looks up at her dam with confusion evident in her red-white-yellow gaze.
"Oh..." Brieli's just caught that impression from the galleries, and she appears to be cursing.

In the galleries, "Shardin', hey!" If anyone didn't notice the dragonet stumbling up to the galleries, then they're supplied with Mave jutting a hand towards it, pointing. People beside her begin to gossip at length, but she can't be so long distracted from the actual sands, eyebrows soon lowering again.

Watching, waiting, the Alchemist's Prize Bronze probes at the sand in front of him with one foot, testing his balance - and the placement of his wings - before he's willing to actually make another move. Behind him, his tail twitches, shifting this way and that, and abruptly sending him turning off into a different direction. One step, two, a third, and then? He tilts his head up, seeking out the warm brown eyes of a (now former) Smith. ''His''.

Tiziano has to squint somewhat to spy who the blue impressed. "Oh! That crazy girl, Alida, got the blue?" He looks over in that direction again, getting up on his toes to watch the pair quickly. "Good for her! Hope he keeps her from fighting. She scares me." He whispers, albeit a bit loudly, to Xhaeon. Back to the action, he notices a green hatch, plus there is still a bronze out there and who knows what else. "Confused." He responds to the burlier candidate. "She looks confused."

Hraedhyth's deep hum shifts into a warm croon, wings giving a slow flap of encouragement as she gazes down at the green. Go ''on''.

In the galleries, When the dragon comes right for the galleries, there's a little squeal of alarm from Issedi, too, and Devaki's on his feet as Lady Edeline's heir is claimed. His eyes are wide, and he pushes past to the Lady's side as if to offer assistance.

In the galleries, Edeline doesn't seem to know ''what'' to do, as her cousin clambers down and away. What is certainly true is that she's not happy, and though she gives Devaki a glance, just for a moment, it largely seems as though she's not interested in talking to anyone-- indeed, not interested in ''staying''. A moment later, the whole Tillek contingent is on their way out, a quiet protest.

K'zin starts bouncing in his boots, eyes jumping from egg to egg to dragonet to dragonet. ''Who's next?'' his whole face shouts even if he manages to keep silent for the moment. Then he stops bouncing and starts shaking. His hands shake, then he's grabbing at his arms, scratching and-- has he finally ''lost it''? His bizarre dance on the Sands stops abruptly as his eyes meet Rasavyth's, and his eyes go glassy with sudden emotion. "Always." He chokes, reaching out a hand towards the bronze.

The Dabo! Egg has been watched by all with bated breath, despite the fact that nearly-gold, fool's gold isn't really ''gold''... and as it bulges impatiently and finally cracks, there's a squeal of dismay near echoed by the creel of hunger from the definitely-not-gold hatchling that tumbles forth, attempting to do so with dignity.

==Empires And Excess Brown ==

Deepest mahogany ripples over the hide of this powerful brown dragonet,
the mottled twists and turns of muddy clay layered with darker shades,
creating a random undulating pattern that covers him from blunt nose to
over-long tail. Each ridge and headknob is finely sculpted with a hint of
upturned whimsy, while his limbs are contrastingly short, solid and ready
for action, and his wide wingspan's sails are improbably touched with a
deep red glow-- a ruby half-buried in the loamy earth. Bright-eyed,
observant and discerning, his heritage is obvious in both the confidence
inherent in his bearing and the sinewy muscle that will soon pack his
stocky frame.

----

Kaeden really has no idea who he is or isn't standing next to at this point. Now and then he'll tilt his head after a shout from the galleries, but mostly his dark eyes have remained on those eggs as they break, the dragonets as they come forth, and the weyrlings as they depart.

Xhaeon nods after Tiziano. "She -is- crazy, too," he announces to his NEW BFF OMFG, okay maybe not, but he's close and he isn't... "Waki?" There's a little bit of dismay, there, eyebrows lifted high, staring. "/Waki/?"

Rasavyth nudges his head towards K'zin's hand, for a moment perfectly content to simply enjoy the sensation of touch. But. ''Food''?

In the galleries, Hana totally misses the second of her favored bets getting chosen, as Devaki breaks for the Tillek group - instead moving to keep near Issedi as the dragon comes and goes - with said heir. There's a shake of the head, and a mouthed unfortunate word or two, but for now she stays with her lady.

It's another three eggs that shudder and crack open in quick succession, on different parts of the sands - the Kal-El's Heel, Better Living Through Pharmacology, and The Void Looks Into You Eggs issuing forth two blues and one green. One of the blues, with a sly cast to his features and an intelligent light in whirling eyes, is quick to pick out dark-haired, quick-witted Sybile, whose grin is just this side of crafty despite her obvious joy. The others follow after.

Quinlys's smirk, this time, may as well go on forever. "Waki," she says, cheering, so obvious, as she returns. "Come on, let's get him to food, mm? I ''knew'' you were good luck."

Nicky blinks. That bronze. Coming close... coming to ''Waki''. "W-Waki...? Waki!" From confusion to excitement to cluelessness now that his best bud's gone, Nicky edges closer to Kaeden, looking at his dance partner with watery grin.

Tiziano is suddenly searching all around, "Hey, where did that bron--oh!" Dun. Dun. Dun. Another one bites the dust! "Waki! Whoa!" It's crazy-town down here.

Not really winning on the dignity score, Empires and Excess Brown does his level best to arrange himself in the shards of his shiny egg before moving forth into the world. It just wouldn't do for his first presentation to be less than ''regal''. Sadly, he doesn't count on the the sand that covers wet hide as he starts out toward the candidates. Get it ''off''!

K'zin's eyes go wide, like he's forgotten something as his hand contacts Rasavyth with his hand. "Right! Food!" To Nicky, and Xhaeon standing nearest him, he says with an even bigger grin before, "He needs food." And then he's leading the way after Quinlys, looking like he's about to burst.
K'zin heads to Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr.

In the galleries, It seems that Devaki has to be content for that pace or two that brings him in line with Edeline, to murmur, "You have my support, Lady Edeline," for whatever she decides to do as a result of this, presumably, and it's only after the rest of the Tillek continent has departed that Devaki takes his seat, head bent to talk to Braeden. Issedi, meanwhile, reaches for Hana's hand. "I can't even imagine... if that were Vinien..." her sympathetic gaze follows Lady Edeline.

Xhaeon eyes. "He looks almost as dangerous as the first one." Almost. C'wlin's bronze, now; the Smith shifts awkwardly, foot to foot, stares after K'zin and leans a bit towards Nicky, a silent opportunity for a united front.

Tiny shards begin to fall from the Fegg to the sands, littering the golden backdrop with iron and amber and red. Abruptly, a sharp talon pushes through, snicker-snack, and with this opening in place, the rest follows easily: limbs and body and birch-brown tail. He takes his time, hunting through the sands, but finally finds himself a skinny boy from High Reaches' lower caverns. "Adrovanth!" he says, all delight.

Straight To The Heart Green seems to gather herself together, though her motions remain uncertain, tentative. She extends one foot, then the next, then lashes her tail carefully as she tests out her body. When she picks up first a slow, swaying walk and then a halting trot, she seems to be more interested in getting the feel for how things move than in actually inspecting the candidates brought here for her pleassure.

Kaeden wipes sweat from his face, then inelegantly wipes that hand on his robe, shuffling again as the candidate group continues to grow smaller. "They're, uh... they're not exactly... dignified, are they," he comments in a low voice to whichever members of the remaining group is nearby.

Tiziano is nodding in agreement with Xhaeon. "Looks like 'Reaches makes their bronzes kinda... dangerous." The green gains his attention a moment, the candidate shaking his head somewhat at her movements. "No, totally ain't." He turns towards Kaeden, all the while making a 'come hither' sign at Nicky. Join the fray!

Xhaeon snorts, briefly, amusement. "They /aren't/ dignified," he confirms to Kaeden. The lull -- or maybe he's just getting used to the crazy pace? -- seems to bring a level of relaxation that was otherwise missing. To Tiz: "Well, yeah, but then there's Cadejoth." Then again... a great dane-ish puppy? Maybe CAN wreak havoc.

Suddenly very sure of herself, Straight To The Heart Green twists sharply about. There's no hesitation in her baby-graceful trot, and her gaze has fixed firmly on one boy in particular. For all her assurance, though, she is still fresh from the shell: her lashing tail is suddenly in the way, and she very narrowly avoids tumbling end-over-end. Instead, she ends up in an adoring-but-ungraceful little heap right at Nicky's feet.

Salvation is ultimately reached as Imprisoned Souls Egg shatters at the efforts of one particularly persistent spirit. Murky phantoms fall in fragments atop the sands as the determined hatchling bursts through the gray veil. His triumphant bugle is short-lived as he draws his gooey self up... and stubbornly plants himself among the remains of his once-prison. There, he is able to survey this new realm with red, hungry eyes.

==Guardian Of The Forge Bronze ==

Surely wrought with strength in mind, the bright bronze's visible
imperfections must have been hammered and polished into this semblance of
youthful majesty. His stalwart physique is balanced, broad-shouldered
without being stocky or overlong, while his hide's lustrous shine alludes
to gold. Burnt copper smudges not only the handsome brow that guards a
frequently-intense gaze, but also his tall headknobs; it's burnished into
cleaner, sharper cuts over the lighter hue of his muzzle, legs and tail.
As for his wings, journeys through the air must be made glorious by those
iridescent sails, bridging between the impressive span of each dark,
formidable spar.

----

Though Brieli has gone back to watching the dragons hatch and pair off with their lifemates, the impression of the young man from the galleries has dimmed her mood slightly, and made nerves a bit more obvious as she bites at her thumbnail. Iesaryth is unaffected, pleased by this latest dragonet, rumbling to the bronze with a happy tone.

Kaeden lets out a sudden, short laugh and nudges Tiziano and Xhaeon toward the green-touched candidate. "So called that," he tells them in an undertone before calling over, "Way to go, Nick-Y!"

Xhaeon should have had a V8. "But really, breakfast would have been a goo...." d idea? There's a GREEN careening at-- oh, whew, at Nicky. He edges a little over towards Tiz. A little more. His eyes are on his fellow candidate-- er, erstwhile fellow candidate. The bugle is the first ''noise'' to catch his attention amongst all of this mess, grey eyes shifting as fast as his face pivots towards the sound, in time to catch the latest spill upon the Sands.

Guardian Of The Forge Bronze doesn't keep still while he scans his surroundings. There are several tries at keeping his damp wings up and off of the hot sand, each attempt more difficult to watch than the last. Underdeveloped muscles can't manage for longer than a few seconds, wrinkled sails isibly trembling at the effort. When a nearby candidate makes a sudden move his attention shifts, wings forgotten as he stares with rapidly whorling eyes.

N'ky was halfway to edging over towards Tiziano, when there's a green dragonet tumbling over at his feet. His initial reaction is to stand stock still, wide-eyed in surprise, and then... "O-oh... C-Cai... C-Cai-''what''?!" The candidate - no, weyrling! - blinks down at the chubby green, sinking to his knees, capturing her head in his hands and staring at her in surprise.

Quinlys couldn't be much more smug at this point, surely. Or more pleased. Yes, the sands are hot, and yes, she's sweating (glowing!), and it's early, so very early, but... It's a ''hatching''! Luckily, she's right on time, back on the sands, to come up towards Nicky, give him an appraising glance and then say, brightly: "Isn't she lovely! You... really shouldn't just sit there like that, though. I bet she's hungry. Want to come with me?"

Perhaps it's the metallic chill of The Hotter it Gets Egg that has it taking so long to even shudder, but when it does begin to make its move, the hatching is almost instantaneous, revealing steely blue dragon beneath steely blue shell. Slow to move and slower to choose, he eventually meanders up to a girl from Nabol way who's so far been stunned by the speed and confusion of her first hatching. Until: "Erdiath! Of course I'm paying attention..."

Empires And Excess Brown has paused in his progress to try and kick one back leg repeatedly like the grit and egg goo will somehow flick off already. It's really irritating him! But not enough to stop him for long; there's people watching, and something to be done before dinner, after all. While he's not one of those dragons to go barrelling at the candidates full-tilt, he doesn't meander either - now he means business.

In the galleries, Hana squeeses Issedi's hand, and shakes her head, "I can't even think that many turns ahead, can you? He's always going to be the tiny terror that he is right now," she teases the woman, eyes on the Sands below. When the little green tumbles to Nicky's feet, there's a crow as the third of her favored bets ends up changing his life. Rich, she'll not be getting, but it looks like lucky support was lucky!

Tiziano starts doing some foot-shifting. He's getting anxious out here on them thar sands. "Oh, that green got mov--oh hey!" It's a clap of the hands for Nicky -- N'ky -- as the lad impresses. "Shoooooot. Green. I feel for him." Like whoa. "Congrats, dude!" Two thumbs up!

In a flurry of eggshells, the Now You Don't and Love Is Like Oxygen Eggs collapse upon themselves, issuing a green and a blue onto the sands. Neither seems especially picky: they both pick local Candidates as their partners in quick order, and are moved steadily off the sands.

Cailluneth looks adoringly up at her N'ky, then butts her head ever so gently against his knee. She straightens herself carefully back up onto her feet and lets out a husky, experimental creel.

Xhaeon can't help but laugh at N'ky and his stutter -- even now. "Oh, Faranth." He keeps track of that brown - and focuses a look of a little concern onto the last-hatched. And then there were three. He squints to Kaeden, over to Tiz, and clenches his jaw again.

What's that behind him? Guardian Of The Forge Bronze tilts his head back, threatening what little balance he has in order to do so. He looks up and up... and up at the looming figures above, giving a fearless /huff/ at both browns and golds. Once that's done, he's back to watching his clutchsiblings as they find their lifemates. Bright bronze hide begins to twitch, hunger and anxiety starting to break through his stubborn resolve.

Iesaryth is trying so hard, so so hard not to nudge the bronze who's huffed up at her out of his shell. She'd really like to. But she settles for another little rumble. C'mon. Get moving. Time to go.

Being appropriately regal (if not refined) is difficult when covered in gritty sand, but Empires and Excess Brown attempts to wear the dirt like a mantle of velvet while reviewing the assortment of candidates laid out for him. Apparently, he has some idea of what he's looking for, his orange-tinged gaze quick to meet that of an observant dark-haired dockhand from the Hold.

N'ky tears his eyes reluctantly away from his Cailluneth when Quinlys calls him, nodding to her before looking back at his new lifemate. "Y-yes... um... f-food. Food! We need to go..." He looks up to Quinlys again, then gets to his feet. "... ''th-that'' way." The butt to his knee nearly knocks him back down - but he catches himself, and leads the way off the Sands. "Th-this way, C-Cailluneth."

Even the most dutiful of sentinels can grow weary, especially when they're only several minutes old. Drying egg slime and hunger prove to be too much as the Guardian of the Forge Bronze lurches to his feet, beginning to stomp over shell fragments and golden sand, his head held high and sweeping from side to side. Too bad he's so busy ''watching'' that he doesn't ''look'' at where he's going... until his headknobs knock solidly into a tall man's gut. Rather than pull back, he drags his jaw up and against the white fabric, searching gaze suddenly locked onto the tall once-journeyman.

The complex patterns of the Plumbing Puzzle Egg seem to twist and turn in on themselves until the series of cracks has the shell fall into nothingness, expelling the rusty brown within. He finds his match in a rough-looking boy from Crom. Aren't there an awful lot of Candidates from there this time around? Still, it's too late to wonder about that: that brown is the last of them, and as he is led off, the sands are suddenly overwhelming quiet.

Xhaeon wasn't EXPECTING Kaeden to abandon him. Though at this point, he should have expected it. He turns to Tiz, his expression wry. "I should have seen that one com--" OOF. THUD. The wind is knocked out of Xhaeon, and his expression only grows more comically alarmed, muscles spasming in his face as if he suddenly heard something-- "AHGH," is the first thing N'hax has to say; so dignified. "N..." His knees are dropped upon as strength leaves, a marveling expression suddenly visible. "Never, Jhorinth." His voice is almost too low to be heard, bewildered and lost and found all at the same time.

Tiziano gives himself a good fanning of the face with his hand. Sure, it may look girlie, but he's too hot to care at the moment. He's about to say something totally witty and awesome to the two others in the trio, but then there's this brown and bronze all up in their biz-nass and Tiziano is stepping back once mor. "Oh, oh, ''dudes''! Both of ya!"

Kaeden is apparently starting to get that itchy feeling as they continue to stand for the eggs, the heat from the sand making sweat appear... oh, pretty much everywhere now. Then the itching takes on a different feel as he starts brushing at one leg before his hands ''freeze''. He straightens. "Been here the whole time," he informs the brown before a delighted, beaming, ''glowing'' sort of smile just about splits his face. "Nice to meet you, though I don't know a D'kan. But yeah, just a sec." Kaed, or D'kan now, looks over toward the others to inform them of something, but then he's distracted, having just caught Xhaeon's new turn. "What was your name again?" D'kan asks of Kazavoth as they turn toward Quinlys.

As one of her assistants heads towards that last brown and his boy from Crom, Quinlys has two charges in mind: she draws up somewhere between N'hax and D'kan, glancing at one, and then the other. Calmly (and ok, ''smugly''), "Want to come with me, then? Whoever you are now. There's food waiting, I promise."

Jhorinth continues to stare up at N'hax through his panic, low growl meant to be comforting. With his lifemate so low he is able to give him a firm ''push'' with his brow, unblinking gaze suddenly all too close. It turns away eventually, shifting from Quinlys to the way off the sands, and then back to N'hax. Another impatient nudge.

Kazavoth snorts at his lifemate not knowing his name, or the name he's been so ''magnanimously'' gifted, but will follow him to Quinlys even so.

N'hax coughs. Some things never change. He lays a single hand against Jhorinth's neck, something incredibly possessive about the callouses pressed feather-light against his lifemate's neck. "I'm up, I'm up," he replies, something rather rapidly turning into -shock- showing on his face as he stumbles to his feet and stumbles after Kaeden... er... D'kan.

As the last of the new weyrling pairs clear off the sands Iesaryth couldn't be happier, clearing out of there in a flash. Brieli comes toward the candidates still left, her gaze touched with sympathy, expression neutral, even for the one she herself searched - though she'll glance Azaylia's way briefly before beginning: "I know what this is like, that it's disappointing, and I am sorry for that. But we appreciate that you took the chance of standing here, and you are more than welcome to stay if you so choose. But now, please join us for the party, and decide what you want to do after that, and a good night's rest." The goldrider flickers a look to Hraedhyth's rider, to see if she has anything to add. She's probably better at this after all.

In the galleries, Madilla seems relatively pleased, at the end of that hatching, though she's still seeking something-- ''someone''?-- out on the sands. Lilabet, however, has descended into a wistful sulk, something that makes the dark-haired woman smile. "Give it a few turns, Lily," she says, pulling Dilan towards her hip again. "You'll have your turn, if that's what you want, I'm sure."

Hraedhyth has slowly begun to relax as the numbers of hatchlings dwindle, clubs sheathed as she lowers her head to nose at a nearby shell. Sand is sent up as she lets out a gusty WHUFF, faceted gaze dancing with bright blue. Azaylia releases Taikrin, but only long enough to wipe at damp cheeks, smiling at those who remain. "Just because your lifemate wasn't on the sands now, doesn't say anything about what... who you might find next time." Sniff. Give her a moment. Brieli is given a smile, nodding as there's little else for her to add. "Thank you so much for Standing." Alright, ''one'' more thing.

There is a moment of unknowing. Not sure what exactly to do, Tiziano just stands there a moment. All his bros are gone, so his usual follower-mode can't quite kick in. Though with Brieli's speech, he's nodding and turning, then walking off the sands. Exit, stage left!

With a brief, grateful smile for the other goldrider, Brieli nods briskly once Azaylia's done. "To the living cavern, then," she says generally, and heads off with a gesture for any of the remaining candidates, still looking a bit... anxious. But that could be attributed to an unfortunate impression or two, right?

{{#ifexist: Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}} | <hr><hr><br><h2>Comments</h2>{{Logs_talk:{{BASEPAGENAME}}}} |<hr><hr>}}

}}

<comments />

N'hax

2013-03-16T18:29:41Z

Castandcrew:

{{HrwProfile
|picture=N'hax.jpg
|name=N'hax
|position= Weyrling
|craft=Smith (Journeyman)
|birthplace=Telgar Hold
|mother= Ayonie
|father=Xheldred (Starsmith)
|siblings= Axel (-4t) Drayen (-6t)
|children=
|friends= maternal grandfather, Sark (Harper)
|playedby= Channing Tatum
|livejournal=}}

== Description ==
Tall and trim, this young man, leanly muscled with a frame of broad shoulders, lean torso and long limbs. His is a cross between a runners' build and a swimmers, muscled without being too much so, definition without excessive bulk. His height allows for mass enough! Indeterminate hair runs the spectrum between sunscorched blonde and dark chestnut, copiously thick and often a little too grown-out from a short haircut, locks sticking out in spiky abundance. The scruff that often shows about jaw and mouth is a few shades bolder and redder, though not obnoxiously so. His features are strong and bold, with a clean line of jaw and tall forehead countering a supple mouth and length of eyebrows balanced over deep-set grey eyes. A strong nose is perhaps a tad shorter and stubbier than otherwise may be expected, lending his face a naturally boyish charm.

N'hax's typically clothed with hardy things: wherhide and heavy knit sweaters, mismatched in color, chosen for fit rather than for aesthetic sensibility. Even so, his wardrobe tends to pair black and dun-hued leathers with natural fibers of sand and cream.

== WYSK ==
Prior to Impression, Xhaeon was a relatively fresh face around the weyr: a Smithcraft journeyman just assigned. Not much was known about his posting or his background other than the rumors that his father is a well-known Starcraft master... and he's a grandfather, too, of the Harperly sort.

Then there was Jhorinth, and Xhaeon became N'hax, and that ... is all she wrote.

Or is it?

== Relationships ==

'''[[Aishani]]''': '''''Fearless.''''' '''Dangerous.'''

'''[[Alida]]''': '''''Harpy.''''' '''Silence.'''

'''[[Azaylia]]''': '''''Irresolute.''''' '''Kindly.'''

'''[[C'wlin]]''': '''''Harper.''''' '''Naive.'''

'''[[D'kan]]''': '''''Solid.''''' '''Kindred.'''

'''[[Jo]]''': '''''Enigmatic.''''' '''Purposed.'''

'''[[K'del]]''': '''''Heartsore.''''' '''Driven.'''

'''[[K'zin]]''': '''''Young.''''' '''Promising.'''

'''[[N'ky]]''': '''''Guileless.''''' '''Thoughtful.'''

'''[[Quinlys]]''': '''''Indubitable.''''' '''Temptation.'''

'''[[Sabella]]''': '''''Lovely.''''' '''Charming.'''

'''[[Vienne]]''': '''''Subtle.''''' '''Intriguing.'''

'''[[Z'ian]]''': '''''Familiar.''''' '''Comfortable.'''

== Theme Song ==

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Edwsf-8F3sI]

''Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don't you know;''
''Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean;''
''Sleep in peace when day is done, that's what I mean;''
''And this old world is a new world, and a bold world, for me.''

''Stars when you shine, you know how I feel;''
''Scent of the pine, you know how I feel;''
''Oh freedom is mine, and I know how I feel!''

''It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me...''

''And I'm feeling good.''

== RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = {{BASEPAGENAME}} | columns = 3 }}

== Former RP Logs ==

{{RP Logs | name = Xhaeon | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Mentions}} | }}

== Former Mentions ==

{{RP Logs | name = Xhaeon/Mentions | columns = 3 }}

{{#ifexist: {{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments | {{:{{BASEPAGENAME}}/Comments}} | }}

{{Icons}}

{{HRW}}

[[category:Characters]]
[[category:Crafters]]
[[category:Smiths]]
[[category:Telgar Hold]]
[[category:High Reaches Weyr]]
[[category:High Reaches Area]]
[[category:Greater Pern]]
[[category:Riders]]
[[category:Bronzeriders]]
[[category:Flurry Wing]]

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2013-03-16T17:36:30Z

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File:Icon n'hax introspection.png

2013-03-16T17:36:30Z

Castandcrew: Castandcrew moved page File:Icon n'hax introspection.png to File:Icon xhaeon introspection.png

#REDIRECT [[File:Icon xhaeon introspection.png]]

File:Icon jhorinth protector.JPG

2013-03-16T17:33:33Z

Castandcrew:

File:N'hax.jpg

2013-03-16T17:33:10Z

Castandcrew:

File:Icon n'hax dirty.jpg

2013-03-16T17:32:50Z

Castandcrew:

File:Icon n'hax determination.JPG

2013-03-16T17:32:33Z

Castandcrew: