Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hraedhyth and Cadejoth's Clutch Hatches - Galleries"

Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr

Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black.

The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat.

From the sands, People have been watching the eggs all day, just waiting for any hint of movement. Certainly, the dragonhealers say today will be the day, but as the afternoon wears on, those eggs remain resolutely silent. Cadejoth's tail-tip flicks against the sand, his eyes whirling rapidly as he watches. Maybe if he watches really really hard, it'll happen!

It's as the sun begins to drop below the spires, at the end of this early spring day, that the humming commences. There have been signs all day, of course - it's no surprise - but there's a gut-punch to it, too, as the birth song of the dragons begins resonating through the weyr, echoing deeply enough to be felt inside as well as out. It's time; it's unmistakably time.

She isn't the kind to get all goggly-eyed over babies coming into the world, but Alida does try to attend her own home's Hatchings, given that there's often food and drink afterwards, plus at least some likelihood of being able to take in unknown people...subject them to her chill stare of inspection. Her own duties done for the day, the blonde is settled just behind the V.I.P. seating - a mug of cool cider and a large sandwich keeping her company - part of the latter slowly fed to Pyrite, who's settled attentively on one of the bluie's shoulders...and now starting to hum.

From the sands, In contrast, Hraedhyth is stone still as she watches the galleries, the ledges. Those dragons who might be unable to contain their excitement are too far for her to chase out, but people? No. Not until Hraedhyth and Cadejoth's humming echoes throughout their territory. From the queen's savage throat, it sounds more like a musical growl-- interrupted by the real thing once intruders begin to fill the galleries. There are still eggs to guard, and soon there will be vulnerable hatchlings on the sand.

Aishani's been avoiding the galleries, more or less, since Hraedhyth's clutched; there's nothing she wants to say to K'del, and she and Azaylia haven't been speaking much outside of business either. Those facts, her constant travelling, and Iesaryth's upcoming tenure on the sands growing closer make her avoidance unsurprising. But she's certainly here for this, in the stands, well-dressed, glass in hand, greeting dignitaries and visitors pleasantly, with one of her more brilliant smiles. She can turn on some charm when she chooses.

From the sands, Cadejoth isn't the only dragon who's been watching. (Maybe that's why it's taking so sharding long?) Teisyth has been watching. And pacing. And changing ledges. And jiggling her wings. And wiggling her tail. It's good that she sticks to the higher ledges so as to be less obnoxious to the dam and sire on the sands, but her excitement is barely contained, unless you're a dragon who happens to offer up their mind as an outlet for all that exuberant energy. When the hum begins to vibrate through the throats of the other dragons, she's so quick to join, her cup runeth over with the joy of it all.

In walks the High Reaches Hold contingent: Lord Devaki, heir Vinien (being tugged along by a very excited-to-be-here brother Dilan), Sealene and even Esiara, wiggling in the nanny's arms. Absent is the Lady Issedi, likely due the rumors of her late-term pregnancy, and more interestingly, the Tillekian contingent. There's no sign of Lady Edeline, Lord Potipher, or any of their entourage. In fact, one might be hard pressed to even spot a Tillek knot in the quickly growing crowd.

Lythronath was in so early as he could get away with it, swinging his head from side to side, even, with no hint of bob, watching, waiting, smelling. His hum scrapes and rumbles through his chest and throat, eyes whirling quickly... and all in shades of green and blue. It's only after some song that his rider will prove willing to leave the bronze's side.

L'sha makes his way into the cavern and climbs the stairs into the galleries. He grins and waves to the riders present, then finds a seat next to one of the Avalanche blueriders. Above, Rillaeth backwings to a landing on one of the ledges in the cavern and peers down onto the sands.

Ilicaeth's up there on the higher ledges, too, watching with a chuffing rumble of lazy contentment, soon altering into a baritone hum. C'mon out, kiddies.

From the sands, Could Cadejoth be any more excited? No. Probably not. Drawing himself up, so full of pride, he belows excitement... and then lets that hang back so that he can hum, eyes whirling faster than ever as he focuses upon the gently rocking eggs. Several of the Weyrlingmaster's assistants beat K'del onto the sands; the Weyrleader, when he does arrive, is still hastily adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, a skin of wine dangling from his arm. "Yes, yes," he says, hastily. "I'm here. I'm coming!"

Normally, K'zin and Rasavyth would've helped with transport duties, but with Rasavyth still recovering, they can't be relied upon to bring in their full docket of guests. So, he's been conducting visitors from the bowl to the galleries, finally settling onto a bench once the humming has begun. Rasavyth, likewise, finds a perch of his own, settled and watching with intense interest as he starts chatting with the nearest dragons, cheery and friendly and isn't this fun?

From the sands, Hraedhyth sits up as Cadejoth does, every muscle bulging beneath her tawny hide, oversized jaws and red-tinted gaze making her a ferocious sight to behold. Just as her wings begin to open, Azaylia arrives on K'del's heels with a soft laugh. "He's excited?" Not really a question as she smiles up at Cadejoth, a delicate hand acting as an anchor for her protective queen. Surely she isn't going to wear such a light dress to the feast, but for the sands it's perfectly practical. At least it's pretty.

Since her hands are full, shoulders hunch up tightly, trying to protect Alida's ears from Cadejoth's bellow of eagerness. "Maaaan..." the woman winces out, glaring at the happy bronze out there on Sands, her face scrunching up at the ringing in her ears before she returns to watching wiggling eggs, feeding herself and her flit, and nodding to nearby dignitaries, since she's just a seat behind them.

Savannah wing have arrived, and taken up a place at the highest seats (and therefore furthermost from the sands). They seem generally in good spirits for all that they've been somewhat scarce in the Weyr over the last several sevens. Certainly they have already seem to have started the 'celebration' part, given there's bottles being passed around between them. There's even some good natured trading of bets with a handful of Glacier riders nearby. Their Wingleader is a no-show for the time being.

From the sands, K'del, with a grin: "You think?" Not that he's lacking excitement, even if he's generally more inclined to calm. The 'skin gets offered to Azaylia as he steps in alongside his dragon, gaze falling towards the eggs.

Tayte has almost certainly been busy with the rest of the vintners ensuring that the correct vintages have been brought out for the hatching feast to follow, but now, dressed in an alluring emerald dress that fans away from her waist, terminating just above her knees and fits tight across the bodice, she's joining the rest of the watchers in the stands for the Main Event.

The lack of the Tillekian contingent doesn't seem to have put Devaki off -- High Reaches' Lord is heading for the reserved spaces at the front, taking a seat next to Lady Tevrane. Pulling Sealene up into his lap, the former exile begins chatting in low, deliberate whispers with the Lady Nabol, only casting the occasional glance towards the sands at this point.

From the sands, G'laer isn't wearing the knot of an assistant weyrlingmaster, but he arrives all the same with the other assistants. The only sign that his usual self-contained manner is shaken is that his fingers are twitching in a rhythmic sort of way; probably no one will notice that it's matching his dragon's wiggles above.

From the sands, Azaylia accepts the skin with mild surprise, blinking at it and K'del before deciding to slip it onto her own arm. It would be unseemly to drink during their hatching... wouldn't it? Perhaps, she'll be more tempted the longer she stands in such heat. To K'del in a breathless murmur, "I am, too."

It is the dark, golden queen that appears first as soon as she is divested of her rider. Eliyaveith settles into one of those ledges, carefully picking a spot where she won't be considered intrusive on others, before she starts up her own encouraging, gentle hum. Lilah is not quite as eager, and so when she does move from the bowl into the Stands, it is at a much more conservative pace than her dragon. She has at least dressed up for this event! A sage green dress appears as she shrugs off her riding jacket even as she moves to scan the available seats.

From the sands, K'del's brows raise; "What?" He has always made a habit of drinking on the sands, but clearly this is not a habit shared by all. At least having the skin out of his hands lets him finish fiddling with his cuffs, so that he can straighten and look somewhat respectable. "Good," he says, firmly. "You should be. Oh-- there they come."

There's only a small lifting of one eyebrow for G'laer being down there on the Sands, Alida giving a soft little smirk then headshake before looking all around. Anyone she can make uncomfortable with ease out there? Not yet... but there's a Lilah in attendance, and the goldrider is becomed over with a mug-bearing hand.

From the sands, The Dancer Tilting egg has long sat at an angle; now, at the behest of a rattling from within, it topples over altogether, shattering into a flurry of artistic pieces as it hits the sands. A roar rises as this first dragon is hatched: a green, tiny and perfect, who promptly finds her partner with a boy still on his way onto the sands.

Though it seems like she ought to have a seat, Aishani hasn't bothered to take it, preferring to make her rounds and stand through the event, apparently. She'll be sitting here enough, soon. As she makes her way down to the VIP row, guiding a few Weavercraft masters to their seats, she doesn't interrupt Devaki and Tevrane's conversation, but raises her glass toward the Lord and Lady both, with a smile.

Of course Jo is here. She might have been seen slipping in and settling somewhere in the back with Kaitlin and M'ron - her partners in crime. The dragonriders choose a spot off to the side where they could comfortably watch the sands, muttering amongst each other and sparing very few present a glance.

From the sands, Valenros steps onto the sands with the other candidates, soon finding his way to the semi-circle. He places himself somewhere near the end, standing with hands balled up in his robe and an anxious expression on his pale face.

From the sands, Quinlys trails behind the last of the candidates, arms folded behind her back, and chin held high. She moves towards the group of her assistants (and G'laer), murmuring something to them in a low, clear voice. Of course, almost immediately she has to send J'vain off to collect the very first pair. Just like that!

L'sha gasps as he sees G'laer walk out onto the sands with a new knot. "No way!" he whispers excitedly into the ear of the Avalanche rider. Rillaeth bugles her congratulations to her clutchsister Teisyth.

From the sands, "Oh!" Excited and nervous, Azaylia easily gives in to peer pressure-- even if there isn't any. She'll steal a sip from the wineskin just as the cadidates appear, swallowing quickly and pushing the closed skin at K'del. His! Hraedhyth is suddenly very interested in the group as they enter, weight visibly shifting beneath her paws as she aims a humgrowl at the candidates. She's watching you.

From the sands, Jadzia might have been in a bad mood before coming out here. But now that she's here, now that there are eggs already cracking open to spill out baby dragons, there's not much brain space left over for moodiness. Being alert, and possibly high on adrenaline, seems a little more important now.

From the sands, Jayzin bows to the clutch dam and sire, smoothly, but then an egg is hatching before he has time to really do anything else. This is going way faster than he thought! He slides around to place himself away from other candidates, careful not to put himself anywhere where Hraedhyth might object though.

From the sands, The Rain and Cloud Egg begins careful, calculated shaking - whatever is inside knows it has to get out, but isn't going to be frenzied or freaked out about that. There is an escape plan in progress, one to breach the geometric fence, to break free, and it will not be thwarted.

From the sands, K'del's! He's clearly not inclined to complain with that; even if drinking wine on the sands may not be necessarily the best idea, hydration-wise. "A green already!" He enthuses, brightly. "Oh, and that one's moving." Cadejoth thrums, louder than ever. His hatchlings! His!

From the sands, Valenros shifts on his feet, watching the proceedings - eggs shattering, dragons roaming - with wide brown eyes. He looks younger than his twenty turns just now, vulnerable.

From the sands, There might be something to be said for G'laer's calm on the sands. He's attentive to Quinlys and her instructions, even if his eyes stray to Teisyth's candidate briefly before coming back to the redhead.

From the sands, Flakes of sparkling shell begin to scatter upon the sand, nestling amidst single grains dislodged by the slow, steady motion of the Sheer Sparkle Egg. Gently, it rocks itself, shivering as if in sheer, sensual delight; soon it will be time to be free. Soon.

L'sha cheers for the boy who Impressed the green and for the other eggs hatching already. "Wow, looks like they might Impress as fast as they did at my hatching."

In the midst of a good-natured jibe from one of the Savannah riders that the very small egg in the middle will surely end up with Glacier, and the inevitable come back from the nearby Glacier riders, the group nearly miss the hatching of the first egg. So, too, does R'hin, only now arriving -- unsteady cast leading him gradually towards the cluster of Savannah riders at the back, finally dropping into a seat next to Bristia.

When H'vier arrives, he's in his dressy flight leathers, looking all decent and grown up. Even his beard is trimmed up all nicely. It is, of course, Tayte who he gravitates toward so they can watch the eggs hatch together. And possibly so no one can hit on her looking awesome in that dress.

There is some relief in Lilah's expression at seeing someone that she recognizes, as she catches that movement on Alida's part. She picks her way carefully over to the bluerider, offering a quiet "Fort's duties" that may go unnoticed in the loudness of the cavern. She doesn't seem that interested in the cracking eggs, more in arranging her jacket just right on her seat before she uses it as padding.

From the sands, Quinlys wipes her face with the back of her hand, wrinkling her nose at the sweat that seems already determined to stick her hair to her forehead. Still; "Keep your eyes open," she instructs her group of mini-- assistants. "I don't want any accidents. Or any uncertainties."

From the sands, Azaylia keeps one hand on her lifemate, a much-needed touch of calm as Hraedhyth's intensity rises with that of the hatching. The first impression earns a sudden roar, quickly followed by a soft laugh from the Weyrwoman. There's a coo, "They're so little." How can she drink? She can't take her eyes off the sands.

Lythronath echoes that roar. There are many reasons to roar. Impressions, apparently, are among them.

From the sands, Jayzin lifts his eyes, briefly, to scan the Stands, but then his attention drops quickly back to paying attention to his surroundings.

From the sands, The insubstantial patterns lurking in the Rain and Cloud Egg sway and warp as the movement inside becomes more insistent and willful. After a few more focused, deliberate shudders, the fog begins to dissipate, the grey disintegrating into shards to reveal a bright-eyed, long-limbed brown lurking in what's left of the shadows of his shell.

Shadow and Smoke Brown

Intricately reptilian patterns scale the hide of this deep, dark brown, their fine charred lines lending him a sinister, disreputable air that's only enhanced by the bright cunning in his brow-shadowed gaze. Further charcoal smudges his neckridges, seeming to dissolve into campfire smoke at their well-honed tips, a haze that drifts all the way down his tail. His wingsails are a smoldering veil, burnt nearly to black along his wingtips and spars, casting even more shadows upon the lanky leanness of his body; he's a dragon well-suited to darkness, sly and swift and unquestioningly self-assured.

Hraedhyth's antics earn the queen a dark chortle from Alida, her incisive gaze shifting from the gold to her popping eggs. Whoa, one down already...more to go. Munch, sip, feed, peer. Hopefully she won't get any crumbs on Devaki and company. Up on a high ledge, Ilicaeth lets his head droop a bit over the side of it, blue eyes whirling a modest speed as the apparent lazybones continues humming. Back to Lilah, now that the Fortian's joined her, "Reaches back... but fuck the manners, right now." Smirkie. "They're poppin' already...crazy kids."

From the sands, Cadejoth leans across to nudge his head towards Hraedhyth's, mate to mate. They made them; isn't it amazing? "Hard to believe our two were ever that small, right?" he agrees, with a laugh. "Oh - look, a brown. Good looking creature, isn't he?"

Well-practiced at formal events, both the Lord High Reaches and Lady Nabol clap at the appropriate times, acknowledge Aishani's greeting, and continue their quiet exchange smoothly. Sealene seems far more interested in the show on the sands than her father is, and Dilan's tugging Vinien's arm and pointing, like his younger brother needs his guidance of where the best place is to look.

K'zin has smiles enough as the dragons begin to hatch, deciding his place isn't quite the one he wants, making his way down closer with many an "Excuse me," and a "Pardon me," and so on as he edges down to wedge himself between two caverns women who must've staked their claim early, but are excited enough now to be leaning forward in their seats, leaving just enough room for him to snug himself in between them.

From the sands, Jadzia doesn't stand near anyone in particular. If she has friends, it's hard to tell right now. She doesn't even look for the big smith. Her focus is on the eggs, hands tightly fisted at her sides betraying her tension.

From the sands, The Into the Light egg has been pulsing for long minutes as the life within struggles to free itself. There's barely a transition from those motions into a sudden fissure that splits the shell in half along dawn's light, a long, regal, elegant blue spilling forth onto the sands. Silently, he climbs to his feet, taking his time examining all the candidates, until the perfect one is chosen with an imperious bump of chin to legs.

From the sands, Shadow and Smoke Brown lurks and lingers in the shards of his egg, assessing the situation. Large dragons behind him, seem to be related to him, check. White robed line of humans opposite to them, shifting and anxious on the sands, check. Other hatchlings popping out of eggs all around him and Impressing... now he's got the way of it. He takes some careful steps toward the candidates - and nearly trips over his long forelegs. This might take time.

"Mm, it seems that way," Lilah agrees politely, briefly distracted by R'hin and his cast. Her brow curves upwards, a single gesture, but though she watches him find his seat, she doesn't wave.

From the sands, Valenros isn't letting anything distract him, not even the simpering of the candidate beside him. He bites his lower lip as he watches, anxiety written clear across his face. Impressions are happening too swiftly, egg hatching in an instant, for individual emotions to register.

From the sands, Flakes of glittering crystal glide away from the Sheer Sparkle Egg as it continues to shudder under the efforts of the hatchling within. Abruptly, the shuddering stops - only to be replaced, a moment later, by a great crack as it sunders. Left in the egg's wake is a dark-hued brown, wings furled about himself in a gesture of what can only be described as pure glee.

Smooth as Tillekian Whiskey Brown

There's something debonair about this brown dragon, and it's not just his hide like glossy mahogany, nor his svelte lines, so long and lean and perfectly proportional. The rakish tilt to his headknobs only accentuates the smug glee characteristic of his wide-spaced eyes; an equally aristocratic precision informs the swept-back line of his neckridges, their leading edges wine-rich as well as regal. Whiskey pools about his exquisite paws with the sheen of bronze, and about the tip of his dapper tail likewise; it also burnishes the fine bones of his wings, though not the mottled parchment of his close-held sails - the latter often tucked close to his shoulders and the flamboyant sweep of his back, not a cape so much as a perfectly tailored coat.

From the sands, Hraedhyth quiets, if only slightly, at Cadejoth's touch. She leans, an affectionate headbutt given even as her ruby gaze remains on the hatchlings. Yes, the ones they made. Azaylia's beaming, trying to stifle it with a bite to her lip. She answers K'del with a joyful, "Uh huhm!" She's listening, honest. But... baby dragons!

From the sands, Jayzin is calm, collected. He doesn't seem to be sweating the hatchings or anxious about little dragonets. (This might be because of the rum he had earlier.) But, for now, he seems to be taking it all in coolly.

L'sha grins at Azaylia and Hraedhyth, then scans the faces of the candidates. "Oh, there's Geviaur!" He points out the smith to his friend. L'sha's eyes stop at Jayzin, "Hello, who's that?" He cheers again as two browns spill out onto the sands.

Aishani's attention flickers to the candidates out on the sands, particularly focused, but there's little to do but watch, so she just drinks from a tightly held glass. She glances up after appropriately greeting the Lords and Ladies as she's meant to, then stares at Alida, with her potential crumb-scattering, with astonishment. It shifts to annoyance and she flicks her fingers in a 'back' motion, shaking her head. On the plus side, she sees Lilah. On the minus, she misses R'hin and his cast. Boo. Stepping up to their row, "Reaches duties to Fort. Hope it's entertaining." A pause, then: "Alida." Warningly.

From the sands, Quinlys, for now, seems more inclined to direct her assistants towards the new pairs, than to actually take any of them herself. The perks of being the boss? Maybe!

Vash is late. Nothing new there. She's also dressed in full riding gear, complete with her belt, helmet, and goggles. Well, it's not like she's from around here, right? She makes her way along one of the gallery benches, now and then apologising for getting in others' lines of sight, then she finally settles. Now that she's just about baking in her leathers, she finally starts removing items here and there, methodically stashing them inside helmet or jacket before everything gets stuffed under the bench.

From the sands, Shadow and Smoke Brown attempts to cover his clumsiness with sharp appraisal. He's looking at the candidates, clearly trying to figure out the best angle. Not at all trying to manage his overlong limbs straight out of the shell. When he pauses on his way there, he's sweeping a look over a group of girls, not at all untangling his tail from his back paws. Oh, hey, another like him. He bellows at his clutchmate.

Tayte has a welcoming smile for H'vier of course, and it's not long before a young woman bearing the knot of an apprentice vintner is herding two little girls over to the pair. Tayte thanks her, of course; Quinlys isn't the only one with minions. She lets Havi take Tahvra into his lap while she curls an arm around her older daughter. Hatchings: fun for the whole family!

From the sands, A trio of giggling girls squeal as that brown, the smoky one, bellows; they look somewhat appalled. Is that... supposed to happen?

From the sands, Jadzia's watching of the hatchlings of course has her watching some of them impressing to her fellow candidates. Her gaze doesn't linger on any of them very long, especially not when she jerks her attention to the bellowing brown.

"Fort's duties to High Reaches," Lilah offers with the same politeness, yet a hint of a smile appears briefly at her lips before she admits on another murmur, "I don't actually find these things as entertaining as others. Maybe because I had to go through three of my own before Eliyaveith found me, and then another one she dragged me to when she was still a baby."

From the sands, Valenros is sweating, profusely. He wipes a hand down his face, muttering under his breath, which catches as more dragons erupt from their eggs.

She's not in the least prepossessed to favoring one color over another. So when that regal blue hatches out second, Alida merely watches him closely, then nods decisively as he picks his new lifemate. If there's a grin, it's quick, maybe even furtive. Some minor irritation shows when Aishani warns her of something, but when the bluie finds her sandwich shedding crumbs near the Holder contingent, she has the spare grace to look a little chagrined for a moment, and nod to the weyrwoman. She'll not pester Lilah for more, right now, the Reachian simply listening, nodding to her companion.

From the sands, Shadow and Smoke Brown Hatchling has taken his time. He's deliberated, assessed his options to the best of his fledgling abilities... while distracted by all the activity around him and the fact that he's really really hungry. As quickly as he can manage long limbs without sacrificing what little slime-covered dignity he has, he marches right through a few candidates, claws be damned, to stare at a dark-haired young man. Decision made.

From the sands, Smooth as Tillekian Whiskey Brown stretches his wings out from around him, then tests at the sands with one foot, then another, then both at once. It's an awkward little hop, and the recovery is less than suave. It doesn't stop him making a happy noise, and turning his face up to Hraedhyth, all tiny little teeth showing. Mom, look what I did!

From the sands, Jayzin doesn't have a handkerchief. Sorry, Valenros. He does cast a brief glance towards the sweating man, a laugh lost on his lips directed at Valenros.

If Devaki's aware of any crumb dropping in his vicinity, deliberate or otherwise, it doesn't get remarked on. Perhaps he's really that involved in the conversation. It probably helps that Sealene's squirming on his lap, yelling "Daddy!" and pointing out each new hatchling like she's found it.

From the sands, Hraedhyth's attention is stolen, giving a deep croon of encouragement for the brown hatchling looking up at her. She saw! Muzzle lowered, she's careful not to actually touch the fragile creature, instead nudging the air. Go on, now. He can do it.

From the sands, Dante's Vengeance Egg has, like most of the rest of the eggs, been twitching from the start, but only now are those irregular shakes and pulses obvious to the eye. Each pulse is a great heave within, only the occupant doesn't seem to be making headway with its shell. There's a tiny fracture here, a minuscule fissure there, but nothing that really says 'Ready or not!' There is a shudder that sends the egg toppling to its side... followed by a long period of stillness.

Hana slips into the Galleries, a bit late, and behind the times - for now she keeps to the back, the better to watch and escape when the time comes, a thoughtful smile lurking as she does so.

"I went to one, but... They seem to go quickly, a least." Aishani has something of an apologetic look about her, not for Lilah herself, but for anyone listening in, likely. Sealene's most recent squeal has her turning her head to catch Valenros and the brown; blinking, "He's an anxious one. Interesting." Then, to both Lilah and Alida, "My cousin is out there. I'm not sure how to feel. I'm not sure he knows, so..." She shrugs, drinks. That always works.

From the sands, V'ros is so busy being anxious that he doesn't notice the brown dragon coming towards him at first. It's all so fast, but the moment arrives. He shifts his focus to the brown staring at him, his mouth dropping open. "Zmeyth yes.. yeah, ok, I'll get you food. Let's.. go." Brown eyes are dazed, but he stands a little straighter as he walks with his new brown lifemate, moving towards the food and the future.

There's a couple of flasks doing the rounds of the Savannah riders at the back. Or there was; R'hin appears to have appropriated one for himself. Well, himself and Bristia -- only after she sharply nudges him in the side and he relents grudgingly before slouching down into a good brood.

From the sands, Jadzia forcibly relaxes her hands once she realizes that she's practically cutting into her palms with her blunt nails. She takes a deep, deep breath, then sighs it out carefully. Calm down, woman!

From the sands, K'del seems to remember, only belatedly, that he's still got that wineskin: he takes another swallow, and in the process, nearly misses Valenros' Impression. His eyes widen when he does catch it, his murmur just barely audible: "Guess he'll have his chance at finding his purpose." He sounds pleased.

From the sands, Zmeyth is still careful with his steps, but more confident now beside V'ros. And pleased with the food idea. Yes.

"Is he? Which one?" Lilah questions. This, at least, does seem to interest the Fortian goldrider as she leans forward to scan the candidates for someone who resembles the other goldrider. "It seems that dragonriding runs in families. I would not be surprised if he Impressed."

From the sands, As demure as the colors of its shell, the Art Nouveau Egg twitches against its bed of sand. Clearly, speed is not the top priority of this hatchling-to-be: for now, it seems content to take its time, slow and sure.

From the sands, G'laer's nod to Quinlys acknowledges her instruction. He's striding with purpose to the new brownrider and his dark lifemate. "This way," he offers with certainty to V'ros, turning to escort the pair out.

Perhaps Alida is one of the few Reachians who doesn't tense up at the notino of another Vijay being possible dragon-bait, for the blonde merely peers at Aishani's information, then down at the candidates, nodding. Blink. "Holy shit... Valenros got a brown." Surprise is evident.

Watching the Impressions, Jo is settled back with her legs out and her hands resting on her stomach. She continues to mutter something to her brownriding companions as they watch V'ros Impress, nodding a few times towards him, but little would be heard in a matter or words.

From the sands, Jayzin calls to Jadzia as Valenros Impresses, "Seems like you should have taken a drink."

From the sands, There will be no repairing the Reparo Egg; after rocking steadily for several minutes, it abruptly shatters into hundreds of little pieces, leaving behind a bright, apple-hued green. She shakes herself off, takes a few testing steps, and then hurls herself towards the nearest group of candidates. None of them are right, but one in the next group is: High Reaches' newest greenrider beams as they're collected by Telavi and taken off towards the food.

Lythronath and A'rist were watching Valenros impress! See? At least one of those searches wasn't just to get a peek at the eggs. The young bronzerider even puffs his chest a bit.

From the sands, Jadzia shoots a glare in Jayzin's direction. "Shut up!" Her gaze shifts after Valenros, though, lingering longer there than it has anywhere else as G'laer leads the new brownrider off of the sands.

From the sands, "Oh, I know that one." Azaylia, perhaps Hraedhyth-touched, motions toward V'ros' Impression. K'del's murmur is almost missed, earning a curious stare from the goldrider. All too quickly, her gaze snaps back to the sands as another green Impresses.

From the sands, Jayzin calls back, so easily and light even now, "Whenever you want to make me, I have some suggestions." He glances after Valenros, too, but he is quick enough to return his attention to hatchlings.

From the sands, Another delicate quiver overtakes the Art Nouveau egg, fine cracks finally beginning to demolish its pastel, geometric perfection - until, all at once, that elegance turns equally chaotic but far more violent. Talons pierce what integrity remains as its inhabitant thrashes against his prison, shredding the shell until it shatters at his feet; he celebrates his hard-fought freedom with a gritty roar, the ripped egg sac still smeared across his chest and soggy, stretching wings.

Dirty Brew Bronze

He's a beastly sort, this dark hulk of a bronze, all short, spindly limbs and big, knobby joints - and deep-set, mischievous eyes. That deep hide's the granular, gritty shade of a brew long-steeped, though brassier metal glints at the tips of talons and tail and the very end of his nose; his wings are hazier, smoky and swirled, limned here and there with the time-muted copper and green and gold of distant lands. The bluntness of his head contrasts the exaggerated length of his neck, neckridges carrying the same barbed spikes as his curving, upturned tail.

From the sands, Smooth as Tillekian Whiskey Brown looks back down, looks at his feet. All of them. It takes a few false starts and struggles that leave little divots and dunes in the sand before he manages to get all those feet under him. There are a couple more creative sand designs before he's even doing something resembling walking. But if his brother can do it, so can he! Toward the candidates he lurches!

L'sha cheers and claps as V'ros Impresses. "Way to go!" Rillaeth bugles again down to the sands as the newly-Impressed pair are led away.

"I know!" That's Aishani's response to Alida, as surprised as the bluerider is, before she perches on the edge of the step beside Lilah, gold dress and all. Pointing to the sands and the white robes and Jayzin like it'll help, "Same colouring as me, bald. He's cute, I'm told. But I can't see it. I don't know if he wants to Impress, but... he agreed to Stand." She shrugs. Who knows what boys think.

From the sands, K'del abandons his drink, now, in lieu of leaning up against Cadejoth's bulk and just-- grinning, yes. "Lots of solid dragons," he says, as much to himself as to anyone else. "They did such a good job." Lythronath aside. Stupid Lythronath.

From the sands, Jadzia sends another look in Jayzin's direction that might be followed up with her closing the distance between them to introduce him to her fists if they weren't, you know, surrounded by sharp hatchlings and protective parents. She doesn't respond out loud this time, though.

Vash spots the woman who enters the galleries after her and waves her pair of gloves at Hana before the very last few things are tucked under her bench. She turns back to the sands in time to catch some more dragonet appearances, though the expression on her face is reserved. Simple spectator stance.

From the sands, He may not be the steadiest dragon on his feet, but the Smooth As Tillekian Whiskey Brown has pizzazz; he can do this. He's doing this. He's totally doing this. He's... okay, he's falling down. But it's fine! He's fine. He's getting back up, he's teetering, he's... toppling forward again, but this time to collapse at the feet of a blonde-haired woman. On the plus side? Impression is a certainty.

"Is there something that's surprising about the Impression?" Lilah questions, at the exchange between the two 'Reachians. She does glance towards Jayzin with a considering look, but only to mark him to watch as further dragons hatch, as if to see if her theory holds true.

From the sands, One of the weyrbred candidates murmurs something to the girl next to him; they both scowl, glancing in Jayzin's direction. "Vijay," says someone. "Vijay," says another, in confirmation. Their noses go into the air.

From the sands, Though Dante's Vengeance Egg has seemed still for some time, now the fight for freedom resumes. That it's been a battle is obvious when the Born to Burden Brown Hatchling finally bursts through the thick crust of his egg with a creel that might've been triumph but is too quickly turned to pain. His war wound is obvious as ichor immediately starts seeping, bright green against warm brown, from the long shallow gash across his muzzle. Still, not to be daunted by a little thing like pain, the hatchling pushes the rest of his tangled bulk through the widening cracks until he tumbles onto the hot sands.

Born to Burden Brown

The dragon collects stares as men collect marks, for he is small and twisted in a way that overshadows the rich brown of his hide. It's not just that his muzzle boasts a long scar-in-the-making and is long and awkwardly large in proportion to his thin neck and stubby-looking limbs. It's not even his stunted tail with the crook near its tip. It's the innate malformations that warp wing shoulders and upper spine. If coloring were all that mattered, he would be a fine dragon indeed, what with the warmth of his hide and its undertones of gold and crimson. Brighter gilt even sweeps along his neckridges as might a regal mane then swirls in yet richer adornment across the sails of his wings... but in this life, it's far more than coloring that counts.

"Does 'e know what the shell he's possibly gettin' 'imself inta?" Alida murmurs over at Aishani, then watching more dragonets burst out and Impress.

From the sands, K'del's excitement and glee falters rather immediately at the hatching of that latest brown; his eyes go wide. "Oh shells," he breathes. "Shells. Is he-- shells."

From the sands, Free at last! But there's something else just as important to do! Dirty Brew Bronze wastes no time, lurching into a stumble, then a half-trot, knobby joints and frenetic kinetics in perpetual motion as he heaves his ungainly bulk around. A trip and fall to belly leaves the hatchling undaunted, though he hisses in agitation, but soon enough he's righted himself, flexing claws and flailing goo-covered pinions for balance as he roves about.

From the sands, The fat, round Unconditional Egg lands on its side after only one wobble, its buttery warmth not long for the world, shuddering and shattering into yellow confetti. Surprise! It's a slender tea-green hatchling, covered in shell-bits, no matter how long she tries to shake them off. Soon enough, she gives up in favour of finding her lifemate - which she quickly does in a clump of white-robed girls from the Weyr.

From the sands, The first task the Born to Burden Brown must undertake is the matter of getting up from where he's fallen. His stunted limbs and tail have made a tangle of themselves, but at least this is the kind of puzzle he can deal with. It's slower going than the brown would like judging from the frustrated huffs that slip out when a limb doesn't behave as it's likely been told. Perseverance will no doubt serve him well throughout his life as it does now. With some patience (and some impatience), he makes headway.

A'rist's eyes fall, like so many others, on that little gimpy brown, and stay a moment. He looks then to Hraedhyth. His face goes a bit pale when he turns to Cadejoth. Paler, still, when he finally finds Lythronath up on the ledge.

From the sands, Azaylia is as flushed as her complexion will allow, eyes bright as another brown finds his lifemate. For Jadzia, Hraedhyth gives another roar that echoes off the cavern walls. "They did." Just as the words leave her lips, the other brown finally breaks shell. A sharp hiccup from Azaylia, and this time Hraedhyth lurches to her feet, stayed only by her lifemate's hand. "Oh."

From the sands, Jayzin's jaw seems to tighten at overhearing the label, his gaze flicking directly to the girls talking about him. "You ever want to see a Vijay up close and personal," he offers, but is distracted as Jadzia Impresses. He glances, thoughtfully, in that direction.

With a purse of her lips, eyes on her cousin until that brown hatches, Aishani tells Lilah slowly, "Not a particular surprise, but he is awfully anxious. Perhaps this will help." She's uncertain about that, but; "Stranger things have happened." Like the brown on the sands, for example. She says nothing about it, nothing at all, just tells Alida, "I tried to tell him. I gave him an assignment. So he should." She's not talking about the brown, but her gaze is fixed on it.

From the sands, The girl? The Vijay-accuser? She sticks her tongue out at Jayzin. "Fuck you," she says. And, "No dragon would ever want you. Not even the gimpy broken one."

From the sands, Jadzia doesn't back away from the brown that collapses at her feet. But, after a split second, she is staring at him like it's the strangest thing she's ever encountered. Then again, having someone talking in your head is pretty strange. Even if it's a good strange. It's good, right? "I... I saw." Smooth.

From the sands, Lurching heavily, Dirty Brew Bronze moves sideways as much as forward, but still manages to assay whatever's before him. Grainy stuff makes me sneeze, brothers and sisters protest when crashed into, things on two legs in white..? The hatchling totters his way up and back, towards and away those ranks of robed candidates for some time, not bothering with intensive inspections as he also tries to master smooth motion.

From the sands, Quinlys, finally, stirs herself from her position in order to stride evenly towards Jadzia and her brown; she seems undeniably smug, and utterly pleased. "Well done!" she enthuses, firmly, never mind recent uproar over the next brown. "Come on - let me get you both to some food."

Alida seems about to answer Aishani when she gets her first look at the new brown... and her face tightens up for a moment before becoming utterly devoid of expression. Ohhh man.

Despite his wavering interest in the hatching, R'hin does sit up as that brown nears Jadzia, and exhales sharply when she speaks. After a beat, he slouches back down again, pale gaze tracking that new-hatched brown that everyone's buzzing about -- but not before stealing back the flask from Bristia.

Hana continues to lurk in the back, though a grin is given to Vash at the glove-waving - but for now, it's to the sands she is watching, cheering with the others at each Impression, and keeping at least some of her attention at the little brown.

From the sands, The Imperial Egg finally fractures after its shivering efforts to get there. The cracks race in webs that follow the lines of gold. Bettors that went for the obvious are rewarded as a blue muzzle breaks through blue shell and the rest of the hatchling follows. His progress on the sands is initially slow, but gangly limbs don't trip him up too long. Soon enough he is forging ahead to examine the white-robed bodies. In this he isn't slow, swiftly locking eyes with his new lifemate and just as quickly following the assistant weyrlingmaster off the sands.

"That dragon--." Lilah will say it, where others don't. She leans forward, the weight of her gaze falling on it as she traces the lines of malformed limbs. "That will be a hard life."

From the sands, Born to Burden Brown is finally, finally, on his feet. Now that he's solved the problem of becoming vertical, he can do other things. The first other thing on his to do list is to look around. He's not about to rush himself, either. There's a lot to take in, and take it in he does with a shrewd sort of attention. His eyes linger long moments on the gold and bronze bodies of Hraedhyth and Cadejoth before he's looking to the candidates. It's then that he attempts his first real step.

L'sha gasps and his hand rises to cover his mouth as he sees the little brown injure itself accidentally. He then grimaces as he notices the misshapen wings. "Oh, the poor thing." His eyes begin to glisten with tears. The Avalanche rider puts his arm around the greenrider's shoulders comfortingly. L'sha leans against the bluerider as he watches to see if the brown will Impress.

From the sands, K'del, wincing, takes in a deep breath. "He looks..." He's missed everything else, at this point. That brown... he looks deeply troubled.

From the sands, Jayzin watches the brown. Sympathy actually sobers the Vijay slightly, a frown appearing as he stands there watching.

"Daddy? What's wrong with that one?" Innocent, cherub-eyes of Sealene's are turned towards Devaki after she points at the gimpy brown. Tevrane leans in and murmurs something soothing about him being fine, though the former exile is frowning, visibly.

"Yeah..." is all Alida notes to Lilah, further unwilling to say anything of the little brown.

From the sands, Jadzia looks up at Quinlys like she's more than a little bit confused. She's too distracted to pay much attention to other hatchlings now. That will have to wait for later, since she'll apparently get to take a good long look at all of them from inside the barracks now! She nods and follows, making sure the brown can do the same.

From the sands, Awkward limbs and heavy wings aren't enough to stop Dirty Brew Bronze now that he's out. There's little care given for sibling or candidate alike as he tears through the sands, the need to go go go spurred on by the crimson hunger held in his gaze. It may surprise many when he suddenly stops, heavy head swinging to observe the others stumbling toward Impression. His twitchy stillness explodes into full blown motion once again, toward the man who looks sturdy enough for his semi-planned impact.

From the sands, Awkward limbs and heavy wings aren't enough to stop the Dirty Brew Bronze now that he's out. There's little care given for sibling or candidate alike as he tears through the sands, the need to go-go-go spurred on by the crimson hunger held in his gaze. It may surprise many when he suddenly stops, heavy head swinging to observe those humans clothed in white still remaining. His twitchy stillness explodes into full-blown motion once again, then, toward the man who looks sturdy enough for his semi-planned impact.

From the sands, Quinlys is still on her way with Jadzia, but Telavi is at hand to approach Geviaur - G'var - and his bronze, and lead that newest pair off towards the barracks. Cezveth, draconic rumour says the name is.

Wincing, Aishani can only agree with Lilah. "It will be. Though... I have a friend. They manage. Vienne and Oswinth. He can fly, but he's tired easily..." A pause. "They manage." There's no sympathy there, but it is what it is.

From the sands, Hraedhyth's jaws part, a low snarl ripping through her for the candidates, for those watching in the stands. When she looks back down at the brown, her teeth are sheathed and she makes the same nudging motion with her nose. He can do this. He is strong. "He's f-fine." Azaylia stumbles, not a lie but a prayer. "He'll be okay." Eyes lingering on K'del, "They did well." No matter what.

From the sands, K'del manages to distract himself from that brown just long enough to take a deep breath, and push his words into something solid: "He's fine. He's... made it this far. There've been... he'll be fine." Cadejoth isn't bothered, at least. That's important, right?

From the sands, Born to Burden Brown takes another step toward the white robed figures, each step a labor unto its own as he learns to work each leg. His focus is absolute, until his long, ichor-bathed nose is jerking toward the stands. Could it be his lifemate is there? No; keen observers might have noted the particularly loud roll of laughter from a pot-bellied cook that heralded the brown's movement. The laughter was, more likely than not, not at his awkward gait and slow progress, but it doesn't matter. Born to Burden Brown has stopped right where he is, only feet from where he hatched - and now directs that nose toward the slight blonde who is fated, it seems, to walk this weary world with him.

From the sands, Quinlys, on her way back from the barracks, manages to get to Evanthe's side just in time for the girl - and her Zvaraseth - to meet up; she gives them a moment together, before escorting them, somewhat grim-faced but doing her best not to be, towards the side of the sands.

From the sands, The green left in the wake of the Mama's Messy Masterpiece Egg finds her partner promptly; just like that, there are no eggs left, and no dragons unpartnered. The green buries her head in her rider's middle, J'vain escorts them off, and an uneasy hush settles upon those candidates left behind. It's over. It's all over.

"There might be things... that can be done. While he's still young. There are ways to cut the body and allow it to heal itself--." Lilah cuts herself off pretty quickly, though. The goldrider instead shrugs a dismissive shoulder as she watches that brown Impress.

From the sands, Jayzin is still there. He doesn't seem surprised not to have Impressed, either, or maybe that is just a facade. He only looks into the Stands, and shrugs.

There's an admittedly small commotion at the back, as R'hin manages to snag that other flask and there's a distinct amount of grumbling from the Savannah riders. Pushing to his feet, the Wingleader heads for the exit, nearly tumbling into Hana in his haste to escape (and undoubtedly burdened by the amount of alcohol he's consumed).

From the sands, Among those left is the lanky beastcraft apprentice Tolman who had such high hopes. He sighs, though perhaps that's not visible from the sands. "Always next clutch, right?" He asks of Jayzin before looking toward the weyrleaders. "And hey, a party." Hatching feasts are good times, right?

"Possible..." Alida grunts to Lilah, her own shoulder rolling casually, a soft creel coming from Pyrite. And soon enough, it's all over, leaving the bluerider shaking her head a little, glancing out from under long lashes to Aishani. "Booze time..." is mumured to both goldriders as she slowly stands. "Comin'?"

Aishani might be curious about what Lilah's talking about, glancing over her way -- but then it's over and she has to pick out Jayzin, still down there, still by himself. His shrug quirks a little smile. As she blinks over at the commotion R'hin makes, and stands to shift out of the way of people departing, she tells the Fortian goldrider, "There's always Iesaryth's clutch." To Alida, "Mm. I suppose."

L'sha manages to applaud as Jadzia and especially Geviaur Impress, then wipes his eyes and cheeks and stands. He and his friend join the rest of the crowd as they leave the stands and head away for the feast.

From the sands, It could be Hraedhyth's final roar is the loudest, one of triumph as Zvaraseth finds his Evanthe. With a firm thump, she sits, turning to give Cadejoth a more forceful headbutt. Now? Now she is no longer worried. Azaylia lets out a long sigh of relief, looking at the empty sands and motioning for K'del to hand over the 'skin, now. With no more eggs to guard, Hraedhyth gives Cadejoth's shoulder a sudden nip. Freedom! Play! Nevermind the sand she kicks up, the rather sloppy exit, the warrior queen plans on flying.

"There is," Lilah agrees. She makes no mention of Eliyaveith's clutch, especially since the gold on the ledges still doesn't seem to be showing any of her eggs. Her attention does follow R'hin as well at that commotion, and she even starts upwards as if she'd follow him, but--. Instead, she only nods to Aishani and Alida, gathering her jacket.

The shady trio of dragonriders fall silent on the recent Impressions - Jo, especially, frowning. She's looking there before movement catches her attention and she watches R'hin getting up and leaving. M'ron beside her elbows her as it looks like the last of the eggs have hatched. Then she gets to her feet and nods to Kait, murmurs something with a lingering glance towards the exit before they make short work of an exit.

From the sands, K'del's troubled expression shifts, minutely, as the brown Impresses - disabilities or no disabilities - and is joined, finally, by the very last of the hatchlings. He turns his head towards Azaylia, and then out towards the remaining candidates. "Iesaryth's clutch will be on the sands before too much longer," he ventures, trying for firm. "Any of you who wish to take another chance will be more than welcome to do so. If you wish to be returned home, we're also happy to do that. In the meantime... please, enjoy the feast. We're grateful to you." Beside him, Cadejoth is as eager and enthusiastic as his mate: sand flies. Sucks to be you, remaining candidates.

Hana gives the drunk Wingleader a hand, but makes no move to help further - but as everyone starts to disperse, heads towards the living cavern to help keep an eye on things.

From the sands, "I always appreciate a party," murmurs Jayzin to Tolman even as K'del speaks, and he joins those candidates that move back to the barracks to get changed out of his robes.

Catching the Fortian goldrider's attention on the bronzerider as well, Aishani's a little curious, but she just shrugs - who knows - and starts up the steps to the bowl.

Sealene seems fascinated by the slow and painful gait of the brown, blue-eyes fixed on the dragon until he's escorted off. Soon after, as the rest of the eggs hatch, the girl twists, getting quickly bored. Dilan's already leading Vinien off to show him the caverns (or to show the caverns him?), though the nanny stays with the youngest pair of girls and Devaki, who is still talking in quiet tones with Tevrane, making no hurry to leave.

Rasavyth isn't in a hurry to leave, nor is K'zin. K'zin's is more about the social aspect of laughing with the two ladies he wedged himself between. Telavi's busy with the weyrlings, so talking is fine, right? He even chivalrously offers each an arm to escort them off to the feast when he finally does rise to go. That can't possibly get him into any trouble.

From the sands, Azaylia takes a step, hand reaching for K'del's shoulder. There's a moment of hesitation before it presses, firm and supportive as the remaining candidates take their leave. To those left, "The Weyr welcomes you." Whatever decision they may make. Above? Hraedhyth is bellowing her and Cadejoth's success, and will likely be at it during the festivities.

From the sands, K'del turns his head, delivering Azaylia a solemn smile; a quick nod. Then, he offers her his arm to escort her off the sands, so that they can prepare for the feast... while their dragons cavort. Freeeeeeedom.

It's after a quiet conversation with the girls about the gimpy brown that Tayte and family are finally ready to head for the feast. She takes Yvalia's hand, "You can congratulate your father there and have a snack." Then undoubtedly the girls will go to the nannies so the adults can enjoy the feast.