Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Spectacles"

Your location's current time: 17:01 on day 28, month 4, Turn 61, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon.

You wander up the stairs to the residents' quarters. Common Room(#868RJLs) This small cavern has the crisp smells of a recent cleaning, mingled with its more usual smells of klah, woodsmoke, and people. Baskets of glows are scattered about the room, lighting up dark corners and generally providing a cozy atmosphere. Several chairs sit at a large, round table, and more chairs are against the walls, waiting for use. A large, soft fur is spread out in front of a small stone hearth which keeps the cavern warm for its occupants. Views: South Wing East Wing Balcony Contents: Mahew Obvious exits: Headwoman's Office Steward's Office Children's Wing DORmitory Lower Caverns

Mahew looks up, slightly startled.

It's early evening on a warm spring night at the 'Reaches. R'hin's often to be found in the common room around meal times - the Weyrleader seems to prefer to avoid the crowd of the living caverns, particular of late. A plate in hand, the bronzerider moves through the room, nodding here and there to people he recognizes, gaze falling on Mahew with the faintest of frowns of unrecognition. Slowly, he makes his way towards the harper.

Mahew rises, brushing the crumbs of his recently eaten meatrolls on his brown trousers. He smiles towards the newcomer - a nervous smile, easily discovered. "Hello," he greets, "I am the new Weyr Harper." His voice cracks embarassingly in the middle syllable of 'Harper', abashed, he looks sideways and curses quietly to himself.

"Ah, yes," R'hin nods to himself, pale eyes drifting across Mahew with a sharp, critical gaze. "Journeyman Mahew, isn't it? I trust your trip here went well. May I?" a hand indicates a nearby chair, as he throws a questioning look towards the harper.

Mahew composes himself, before gesturing towards the chair and taking a seat. "You must be R'hin. I'm honoured to meet you, Weyrleader." He gazes at R'hin's knot, momentarily transfixed before regaining his focus and diplomacy. "My journey was fine, thankyou. As cold as between can get, I'd wager, but a pleasant ride. How does this day find you?"

R'hin's slight tip of head is acknowledgement of Mahew's words, settling into the seat and taking a spoonful of the stew he carries with him. The faint ripple of a grimace might be visible to a sharp eyed harper, though the Weyrleader's response to the query is nothing but polite and cool, providing the expected answer: "Well enough, as can be expected. You have quite some work ahead of you, Journeyman." His demeanor is far less welcoming than his letter - if the Masterharper shared it - might have indicated. "I hope you're up to the task."

Mahew sets his jaw firmly and looks directly at the Weyrleader. "You will find I am more than capable, Weyrleader." It is clear Mahew is not a man easily intimidated by power or position, nor is this the first time he has encountered one of R'hin's particular personality. "But of course you have quite a task ahead of you at the moment also," he subtly fires back, "and I have every confidence you are more than capable of leading this Weyr."

"We shall see, Harper," is R'hin's glib, almost dismissive response. A twitch of brow, and he gives a low-throated laugh. "Masterharper Rodric's harpers have a talent for stating the obvious, I see," he says, humor lingering for a moment. "And if you say that, you haven't listened much to the talk at large," his free hand waves, indicating the Weyr as a whole. "Few here share your confidence, Harper."

Mahew regards R'hin levelly. "It is not my job to discriminate - nor is it theirs." He raises his chin almost imperceptibly. "You are leader of the Weyr, and it is my job -- and that of the weyrfolk -- to support you in whichever way we can." Suddenly, the tension in Mahew's face is broken - he smiles at the Weyrleader. "I don't pay attention to idle talk. I judge a man by what he does, not what is said of him."

"Yet you cannot control how they think, anymore than I can - Harper or no." R'hin's tone remains laced with humor, a slight glint to pale eyes perhaps showing less care of such thoughts than he ought to. "Huh," his fingers tap against the edge of the plate a moment, before he takes another mouthful, chewing thoughtfully before finally saying, "Then you are unique indeed. I have heard many say such things to my face, then prove otherwise out of my sight. And idle talk should never be ignored - if just to find out what people are saying."

Mahew laughs. "It is my job to listen to idle talk. But to use it to form an opinion? Far outside a Harper's line." He sits idly from his mug of klah. "And with respect, you're absolutely right. I cannot control how they think." He looks up again, into R'hin's eyes. "You can."

"Maybe," R'hin allows, a hint of curtness creeping into his voice. His attention seems to wander for just a moment, a slight glaze to his eyes for a heartbeat. "Telgar's eggs hatch," he breathes, relief audible in his voice. "We could all use the good cheer." The plate is swiftly set aside on the nearby table, and he rises, before pausing and examining Mahew with sharp, pale gaze. Perhaps he's passed some silent scrutiny, for a beat later, he says, "Would you care to attend Telgar's hatching? New as you are, I'm sure I can trust the Masterharper to have taught you well enough to represent High Reaches, as well as the Harper Hall." A hint of dryness lends itself to the last.

Mahew nods, smiling wrly. "Where the Weyrleader leads, we must all gladly follow." The smallest hint of sarcasm enters his tone - clearly, he is not willing to submit to R'hins jibes. "I'd be honoured to attend."

R'hin's low-throated laugh suggests that Mahew's sarcasm is - if anything - welcomed by the Weyrleader. "We can pick up some riding gear for you on the way through - if you don't have some already," he says, as he leads the way towards the bowl.

You stride down the stairs to the caverns below. You wander through the archway, out to the bowl. Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#880RJs) Standing on the western side of the bowl, the high crownlike spires of the Seven Spindles on the north wall tower magestically above the roughly ovoid bowl floor. Near you, a large boulder stands, placed almost exactly in the center of the bowl. This side of the bowl is busy with the constant flow of residents and visitors around the entrance to the living cavern to the southwest and the lower caverns to the west. To the north, the large opening on the upper wall leading into the hatching grounds catches your eye. Directly below it, the ground entrance to the same area seems almost tiny. Northwest, the weyrs belonging to the junior queens of High Reaches are accessible from a short set of stairs and a path of carefully laid black marble leads from them to the entrance to the living cavern. To the south, a few ground weyrs remain unoccupied, in case any visiting or injured dragons need them. The early evening crystal clear as the sun sets over the western rim of the bowl. It is completely still, no winds blow and the spring air is warm enough, with only a slight chill. Views: Junior Queen Weyrs Contents: Leiventh Obvious exits: LIving Cavern Lower Caverns Hatching Grounds Ground Level Guest Weyrs Eastern Bowl Floor Mahew walks out of the lower caverns. Mahew has arrived. You climb up onto Leiventh's back, using his straps as handholds.

R'hin settles in place, before leaning down to offer a hand to the harper.

Mahew jumps up onto Leiventh's back, using his foreleg as a step. Mahew has arrived.

Mahew says "What is your dragon's name, R'hin?"

R'hin half turns in place to strap Mahew in firmly, with the ease of one long familiar with the process. That done, he repeats the process for himself. "This is Leiventh," he answers, that note of pride that all riders use lacing the introduction. "Hold tight, Harper," is his brief warning, before the bronze springs aloft.

You launch into the sky. You rise higher in the sky.

» Leiventh disappears into Between.

Between You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats... Black... Blacker... Blackest!

You suddenly emerge... Air Above Telgar Weyr You are flying in the skies directly above Telgar Weyr. The Weyr itself is a huge caldera directly below you, formed in an irregular hourglass shape. Its size is impressive; a small Hold could easily fit within its bowl, with room left over. Stretching roughly to the north and south is the mountain range of which the Weyr is part, rugged peaks of bare rock and stone. The Telgar territory covers the expanse both east and west. From here, there are exits to the 'Southern Bowl' or 'Central Bowl', or dragons may land 'Outside Telgar Weyr', near the Weyr's Entrance Tunnel. The afternoon is quite cloudy, with only a few open patches through which the sun pokes. A light wind blows and the spring air feels a bit nippy. Obvious exits: Sky Above Telgar Outside Telgar Weyr » Leiventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! You fly downwards towards the bowl.

Mahew jumps down Leiventh's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Mahew has left.

You vault down Leiventh's side to the ground, using his foreleg as a step. Central Bowl A stony field is the center of this great caldera, the size of which is unmatched at any other Weyr--for the whole complement of all the wings at Telgar could rest comfortably within its towering cliffs. Shaped in a perfect oval, the rock walls seem ideal for keeping the usual chill winds stirring about. The ground is mostly made of pebbles and rocks, some hued the milky shades of old quartz, though there are patches where softer dirt and even trees sprout up from the ground. To the south, the bowl opens onto the living caverns and the Weyrleaders' quarters; the immense entrance to the Hatching Grounds lies to the northwest. Heading southwest will lead one back out into the rocky mountain ranges around Telgar's protective walls. Dragons may be seen, relaxing or fresh from feeding, to the north, as well as the soft lapping sounds of Telgar's lake touching the sandy shore. The Weyrling Barracks, always aflutter with activity, are to the direct west. If you're looking for the 'dutypair' to take you to an outweyr destination, they can be found here. The meadow near the lake is strewn with wild flowers, like little stars of pink, yellow, and white. The ground by the the barracks is quite muddy.

Contents: DRAGONS: Leiventh Iridith PLAYERS: R'hin Mahew Tenli

Obvious Exits: Weyrling Barracks Southern Bowl Lake Shore Hatching Cavern Feeding Grounds Runner Pasture Weyr Entrance

Mahew says "My thanks to you, Leiventh. A very pleasant journey."

"Leiventh says you're welcome," R'hin relays, with a hint of a smile. "This way," the 'Reachian rider informs the harper, nodding towards the caverns, setting a quick pace across the bowl.

You make your way from the bowl, through the massive entrance to the Hatching Cavern. Galleries(#382RDJM$) Stretching along the eastern wall of the hatching cavern, these tiers of seats have enough room for several hundred spectators for Clutchings and Hatchings. To one side, long shallow steps descend to the entrance. There is also a railing separating the lowest tier of seats from the Hatching Sands themselves. Other parts of the galleries are closed off from the sands by a wall to the north and south. From here you can reenter the bowl, or follow the pathway down to the Sands. The afternoon is quite cloudy, with only a few open patches through which the sun pokes. A light wind blows and the spring air feels a bit nippy. Contents: PLAYERS: C'len Tavrie R'hin Giremi R'layn Jaethe Gay

Obvious Exits: Bowl Sands Your location's current time: 19:47 on day 31, month 4, Turn 61, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring evening.

Mahew enters the galleries from the bowl. Mahew has arrived.

Gay's eyes are wide on Giremi's knot, then a blink of recognition. As he passes; "Harper. Nice to finally -see- you." A grin follows him, and she send a wave R'layn's way for the salute. Down near the front with some of the worried-looking Hold-types pouring in, she starts to busy herself with looking responsible and reassuring.

R'hin enters the galleries, keeping pace with a younger man knotted to Harper Hall. Pale eyes settle on the sands, first, before tracing across the crowds. "I see some familiar faces," he tells Mahew, gesturing further down. "Shall I introduce you?" comes the bland offer. Eyes pass over Gay, and settle there for a moment, lingering on her knot. "High Reaches' duties to Telgar, weyrwoman," comes his smooth greeting.

Mahew formally bows. "And that of the Harper Hall." To R'hin, he says "By all means, lead on."

Tavrie strides into the galleries with an enthusiastic gait and a broad grin on her face. She is but a few steps behind her Weyrleader, though it would appear she has no interest in being too close to him. Scanning the stands, she seeks out some place to sit.

"Ah, Giremi, you're at Telgar, now?" C'len asks with a grin. "It's been--well, stressful, really, what with the 'Fall over the Hold." The rider looks around at the excited--and some scared--people nearby, lowering his voice, "But that's to be expected, I suppose. How've you been?" Spotting R'layn, the 'Reachian waves to him, before settling back into his seat a bit to do some more people-watching.

[Candidates enter.]

Niklo enters the galleries from the bowl. Niklo has arrived.

From the hatching sands, The candidates, in uniformed white robes, enter the shimmering Hatching Sands. One by one they bow to the proud parents, and move towards their places around the clutch.

From the hatching sands, The cerulean shell of the Ring of Ice egg shatters, giving way to a ethereal spring green. Decisive from the start, she trips her way over to a former smith apprentice and makes her claim. B'lor looks astonished and just manages to croak out, "Leyoth is hungry."

Gay manages to tear herself away from one particularly concerned envoy with an assurance that they'll talk after. "No, really - the eggs are about to - Yes, at the dinner. That would be best. Oh, look, did that one move?" Distracting the man, she turns to blink up at R'hin for a brief moment before she gets her bearings. "Weyrleader. Telgar's duties to Reaches." To Mahew, "And Harper Hall. It looks like they're coming out if you want to sit?"

From the hatching sands, Camerryn, his arm looped around Rilkie, winces as he steps onto the Sands. "Ouch! Shards, they weren't kidding!" And then there's Hatching, and Camerryn's eyes go wide.

From the hatching sands, Nebulous Clouds Egg wiggles and shimmies in its warm hollow of sand, but the excitement is almost tangible in the way it moves. It's nearly time!

Tavrie finds herself a seat a good distance from the others she entered with and props her chin in her hands, eyes glittering with good-natured eagerness. Every now and then, she follows the entrance of a new face, offering warm smiles in that mischevious way of hers.

From the hatching sands, Ronari squeezes Cyrra's hand as an egg shatters no sooner than they had set foot on the hot Sands. Her sandals aren't thick, and the heat is quickly becoming painful.

From the hatching sands, Graedin is easily the oldest in the group of white robes. And the most conspicuous, thanks to his very poorly thrown together robe. It's holding together, but by luck rather than design. He moves to join the circle, mincing his way across the hot sands and looking rather comical. He ends up near Ronari and Cyrra in the semicircle about the eggs, dragging Seramara with him. "Good luck," he offers, with a lopsided smile. "Just remember to watch your backs." He stands still for a long moment, watching eggs rock, and then shuffles his feet with a muffled curse. "Hot."

Giremi nods at C'len's question. "I am, just posted a couple of months ago from the Hall," the young harper replies. "Stressful here too. I'm looking up every Record I can to see if there's anything to help," he gestures out towards the Bowl and the presumed Records Room beyond. His own voice is quiet as well in answering the Reachian rider. Giremi settles into a seat just to one side of C'len and catches the sight of more Reaches knots, nodding politely. And there's a fellow Harper to wave to.

From the hatching sands, Seramara almost stumbles as she straightens from her bow in time to see B'lor and his green. "She didn't even *stop*, she just--oh, that egg's moving--I hope my parents are here--" When in doubt, babble. She's not even aware of the heat.

R'hin quickly makes his way through the crowd towards C'len, greeting the Wingleader with an easy nod. "C'len, good to see you. Have you met our new Harper?" he half gestures towards Mahew, glancing back towards the sands as some of the candidates begin to appear.

From the hatching sands, E'tyn stands by Nimiriel, the fretful fidget of his hands hidden behind his back. One might imagine he's one of the ones standing rather than vice versa. "Does it ever get less nerve-wracking?" He asks of the Weyrwoman.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra holds tight to Ronari's hand, looking rather pale. The young woman turns her head and looks at the eggs, then she scans the stands, frowning. "I wonder if Tiri is here...and father," she says softly to Ronari.

From the hatching sands, Rainbow Night Egg takes its time in coming to life--the slightest vibration visible only due to the sand it dislodges in its movements.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn trails along with the other candidates, picking her feet off gingerly from the hot sands. She settles into place on Seramara's other side. "Some of them really know what they want," she offers her "expert" advice.

From the hatching sands, At the back of the candidates is R'dur, jittering as he slips onto the sands and around the edges of the group, skirting the clutch itself. He bites his lower lip as he watches the first eggs start to hatch, and tears his eyes away to step over to join the Weyrleader. "Ma'am. E'tyn. Hi," he offers, before glancing quickly back to the candidates.

From the hatching sands, Rilkie moves out with Camerryn, eyes wide and scared as they make their way to the appointed place. Duties taken care of, she slips her arm free to claim his hand instead, clutching onto it for dear, wordless life. By her expression, it's clear her fear runs along the lines that if she opens her mouth, she may be sick.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel rests a hand on Daelyth's side and grins over at E'tyn. "I suppose. This is the best part, if you ask me. Some of them are so fast, but others'll take their time, and those are the ones to watch. Especially the faces on the candidates they choose. They look like they've been hit in the back of the head with a board," she adds, laughing.

Mahew nods very briefly at C'len, entranced by the activity on the sands. He takes his seat and watches, rapt.

From the hatching sands, Nebulous Clouds Egg keeps on rocking, as the occupant within begins a fierce attempt at getting itself out of its confinement. Out, out, OUT! It still hasn't managed to make a dent in the thick shell, though it's not for lack of trying!

A the Reaches weyrleader and Mahew approach, Giremi vocalizes a greeting. "Harper's duties, sir," for R'hin and an actual smile for Mahew. "Hey Mahew - you walked the tables, congratulations!"

From the hatching sands, Camerryn winces as he moves along the sands. "Come on," he urges Rilkie, guiding her towards familiar faces: Graedin and Ronari. Cyrra and Seramara come by default. He gives Rilkie's hand a reassuring squeeze, and sets up a spot near the others. "Good spot, right? Now we can see the whole thing, easily."

Mahew stands and clasps Giremi's hand warmly. "I did - and..." He stops, entranced by the eggs hatching. Clearly, this is his first hatching.

From the hatching sands, Breena steps up quickly to B'lor and Leyoth, shaking her head and mumbling as she goes. "Never can wait til a body gets a good breath..." But the green and his lifemate are pointed toward the barracks, then she's back to wait for the next pair.

Giremi shakes Mahew's hand and then urges him to sit back down. "Just watch," he says with a chuckle and settles back himself.

From the hatching sands, Haisen stands slightly apart from the others, watching the eggs and worrying at her lower lip. Shifting her feet with growing discomfort on the sands, she keeps her eyes on the rocking eggs, gaze occasionally flicking to her fellow candidates.

The Istan weyrleader and weyrwoman arrive a little belatedly, but arrive they do. V'lano stops near the back of the galleries to gaze out over the rows below; in a moment he spies seats they might still slip into, and acquires Griere's acquiescence to them with a point. A little bit later they slide into place, eyes on the sands below.

After their Weyrleaders, an Istan contingent makes is way up into the galleries, Nolee among them. Missing the first impression, she's too busy fastidiously mounting the steps and chattering to her companions. "Jays, these are always more entertaining than when they happen at home. Less worry about what happens after, I suppose."

From the hatching sands, Dubious, E'tyn strives towards the placidity his Weyrwoman manages so well, and turns to skim the circle of candidates. In turn, a few eyes are caught drawing a tiny grin on the young Weyrleader's kind face. "I bet that's what I looked like," he notes, easing into his role a little better after the cursory glance over of candidates. "Hit over the head that is."

From the hatching sands, Ronari watches as some of the eggs begin to shake. Leaning over to Cyrra, she offers some reassurance. "I'm sure they are. They wouldn't miss this for the world." She smiles to her friend, gaining strength by reassuring someone else. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

From the hatching sands, Rainbow Night Egg is touched by a breeze, a gentle sway bringing the softly hued shell to life. Other than that, there is little else that draws much attention to this placid seeming egg.

Gay takes a seat up front as the Reaches Weyrleader and Mahew drift off, looking out at the Sands with a remarkably grave expression for the usually rather upbeat redhead. She tugs on a curl worriedly, watching the candidates as she leans forward.

From the hatching sands, At first, it almost seems as if the white speckles on the Nebulous Clouds Egg fall off first, but it's followed shortly thereafter by just about everything else. The egg shatters, leaving the Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling sitting amongst the shards, looking startled but pleased.

Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling

Predatory grace slinks down in ripples along this brown's lethal body, his sleek hide two-toned in a dominant citrine brown offset by widely uneven strokes of dark, rusted copper. Those striations peter out high on his neck until they exist merely as ghosts to shadow his sharply cut face, where thick ridges overshadow the gleam of keen eyes. Wickedly curved neckridges trail down his back to meet the strong juts of his wingspars, the ridges there smoothing out before they resume down the length of his lashing tail. Quite large, he wears his girth and length well, typically holding his massive form close to the ground, nigh on hugging it with his rotund belly and broad, proud chest. There is little dainty about him: even the wings that hang in opaque curtains from his spars are densely built, not lightly reckoned with.

"And High Reaches' to Harper Hall," R'hin returns Giremi's greeting in kind, with a nod. His attention is, understandably, drawn back towards the hatching, murmuring under his breath as if keeping up a running sort of commentary.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra's eyes can't possibly get any bigger. She shifts from foot to foot, looking as if she wants to bolt off the sands. However, she remains rooted in place. Once again, she sweeps the stands with her gaze before focusing back on the eggs and closing them for just a moment to gulp.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn jumps, the recent Hatching brown having startled him. He gives him a good look, and shivers. "Oo. Watch out for him," he warns collectively, talking to hear himself talk. "He looks sneaky. And sly. And... dangerous."

From the hatching sands, The Rosetta Evening Egg fractures along those veins of scarlet, and the remaining shell pieces rain down upon the patchwork blue sitting there, looking puzzled. Driven by hunger, he hurries toward the candidates and finds his match in S'rean. "Lianth! He's Lianth!"

C'len grins, "Harper's all around. C'len, Vildaeth's rider," he says by way of introduction to Mahew. "R'hin, this is Giremi, Emilly's son. Grew up at High Reaches." He grows quieter as the activity picks up, candidates arriving, eggs growing active, and the sudden arrival of hatchlings on the sand. He does remark to Giremi, "We've been scouring the records at home, too," blowing out a long breath. "Nothing yet."

From the hatching sands, Seramara bobs her head in Olwyn's general direction. "Oh, I know, you just never expect such clumsy little things to go so *fast*." She tries a sympathetic smile in Cyrra's direction, but then the sleek little brown hatches, and her attention is totally diverted. "He's going to *pounce* somebody. Oh, well done Serean--S'rean!"

From the hatching sands, Graedin gawks at the brown. "I didn't know they'd be so /big/ at first." Forgetting to do th Candidate Shuffle for a moment he simply stares - "Lookit him. He's gonna be huge, I'd bet. - Wait, was tht another one? Who was it that got that blue?" He looks around to Cam and Seramara, missing it even the second time. "Who"

From the hatching sands, Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling spares a smug look backwards at the remnants of his former prison, then slinks forward, wings spread wide to catch the heat of the hatching sands. His body is so low to the ground that said wings are nearly dragging, but he doesn't seem to care about that. His focus is on the semi-circle of Candidates and his quest for the one with whom he'll share his life.

And near the back of Nolee's group is Niklo, the youngest Istan goldrider trying to see everything at once and not trip on herself in the process. Not an easy task. Especially with the comments from all sides, which make her want to look up all the more. "Did somethin' happen?" the girl asks no on in particular, pausing mid-step to look towards the sands. Immediately a grin crosses her face. "Wow. Wasn't I jus' doin' that?"

From the hatching sands, Ronari says "S'rean." Ronari offers to Graedin, her wary eyes on the frightening brown hatchling."

From the hatching sands, Olwyn shifts back and forth, trying to keep from putting any one part of her feet on the hot sands for too long. She watches the dragons carefully as they hatch, nodding to Seramara. "Yeah, they can. That's why you've got to be careful and stay alert, so you don't accidentally end up between one and the person it wants to Impress. That's when accidents happen."

From the hatching sands, Breena hustles S'rean's way next, careful to avoid the brown who's searching, and the eggs that are wobbling. "He's lovely--Sonaith'll love that coloring. Come this way, now, I'm sure she's hungry."

From the hatching sands, Haisen shuffles around a bit more, her too-warm feet bringing her inexplicably closer to the others. Well, somewhere in the vicinity Camerryn to be more precise, although she doesn't do more than stand there and keep a watchful eye on where that predatory brown is headed.

From the hatching sands, Brilliance in Numbers Egg rocks feebly, just a faint quiver that's hardly noticeable, especially considering the goings-on around it. After that one little motion, its occupant is very still, waiting as though it had never begun to shake.

From the hatching sands, E'tyn notes in a wry aside for Nimiriel, "Some of them know so quickly. Some of them wander. Choosy." His fretful hands finally shove into the pockets of his trousers to still.

"Emilly's?" R'hin's interest in Giremi is renewed by C'len's comment, turning to glance anew at the harper. "I wouldn't have guessed. And at Telgar now. I'd try and entice you to High Reaches but," a sidelong glance at Mahew, pointed dryness in his tone, "It seems we've already received our new Harper."

From the hatching sands, Camerryn is on edge, noticably. When Haisen scoots, he notices. He gives her a flickering glance, and then a smile. "Thought you were a Hatchling," he teases, grinning. "Nervouse?" He gives Rilkie's hand another squeeze, just 'cause.

From the hatching sands, The luminous softness of the Rainbow Night egg continues to sway dreamily from side to side, picking up speed with time until it's not quite so much dreamy as frenetic. Pieces of indigo and rose shed and a slender midnight talon pokes visibly while lithe shoulders and a persistent head crash through the remnant shell.

Water's Embrace Green Hatchling

Liquidity radiates in every movement, every dreamy turn of this slender green, as a wash of crystalline water cascades over her body in a loving embrace. The veil of ocean's blue provides a sense of sparkling depth to the olivine seaweed that is predominant across her hide, setting off the shadows of her girlish curves clearly from the length of a meandrous tail and rising high up the supple arc of her neck. Foam caps, a pale offset to her dark shading splash in an indecorous fashion over her eyeridges, careless of how it might bely her whimsical nature, and mark a more translucent path down the narrowness of her maw. An air of feminine delicacy flickers in narrow wings and slim limbs while prisms cast in the pensive glow of her eyes speak of a curiosity that lurks beneath her gentle shell.

"Nothing here either," replies Giremi quietly to C'len. "I've been up late most nights going through without much luck." He favors R'hin with a smile at C'len's introduction. "Got the hair and the height," he notes, "and not much else. My grandmother's here," is the semblance of a reply for R'hin's remark about enticement to the Reaches.

Tavrie spots Ronari and calls out, if futily, "Be calm, Ronari!" Then she settles again, though it would seem like she can't sit still. Brown eyes shift to E'tyn, and she smiles despite herself.

Mahew has already learned not to be offended by R'hin's barbs. He smiles broadly at Giremi and gives him a knowing wink before resuming his watching of the hatching.

From the hatching sands, Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling's tail lashes back and forth in the hot sands as he moves, leaving a cleared path behind him. No sense looking back, though--today, there's only moving forward! There's a surprising amount of grace, for such a large-framed dragonet, and given with the bounce in his step, it's evident that he'll be quite the handful. His path around the sands pauses now, and he stays in that low crouch, studying the figures in white robes.

Brow furrowing, Gay tears her attention off the action down below from time to time to scan the crowd filling the tiers of seats, trying to pick people out - while at the same time, trying not to miss anything on the sands. Unsurprisingly, she's not particularly successful at either, but she does make the effort.

From the hatching sands, Rilkie squeezes back, and finally manages to speak, as she watches the hatchlings dart around and choose their lifemates. "It's so intense down here..." She murmers, just loud enough for Camerryn.

Nolee agrees, smiling toward the new Istan graduate, "You did! Seems like just yesterday. Or maybe last sevenday, at least." She scoots between a few rows, stepping on some toes here and there, gestures Niklo along with her, and finally finds a seat. "Look, Nikki, one hatched!" Nolee tries, botching the young goldrider's name. Alas.

From the hatching sands, Ronari sees the newest Hatchling to emerge and points her out to Cyrra. "Oh look! She's beautiful!"

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel is still as relaxed as only more than four decades of hatchings can make a person. "Some of them do have an easier time. Even the ones that take longer seem just as happy, though, in the end."

From the hatching sands, Haisen admits a reluctant and somewhat growly, "A bit." to Camerryn, arms coming to fold loosely over her chest again while she watches. Even if she doesn't quite look as nervous as she feels, she doesn't seem particularly inclined to be talkative, either. The newest hatchling is eyed warily and her feet continue to shuffle on the heated sands.

From the hatching sands, Brilliance in Numbers Egg shudders again, the movement lasting longer and becoming bolder now. There's no pretending now that the egg isn't on the move, as it seesaws from one side to the other impatiently.

From the hatching sands, Water's Embrace Green Hatchling's head crashes through the shell, followed shortly by her body that lands in a clumsy heap on Telgar's hatching sands. It takes the newborn green a little while to gather herself up, during which her head cants about trilling her creel of irritation for all to hear. Then, very slowly, do her back legs and forelimbs come together to push herself standing.

From the hatching sands, Seramara is trying to watch that brown without actually *watching* him. One does not look a predator in the eye. "Well, I'll dodge if he comes near *me*," she answers Olwyn. "He'd better play nice if I'm the one he wants. What a *beautiful* green!" That one she looks at straight-on, wide-eyed wondering.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra nods her head in answer to Ronari. "She is," the teen murmurs, ending up sounding rather squeaky. The coltish girl lifts one foot to scratch at the back of her leg nervously.

From the hatching sands, Graedin still looks puzzled. "S'rean - Oh! Sorean!" He cranks his next for a moment to look after said young man and his blue, before shuffling his feet again. "Shells, I'm burning the tar out of my feet." He misses the hatching of the Water's Embrace green as he squeezes Sera's hand reassuringly. "Goin' faster than I thought."

From the hatching sands, Camerryn nods his head, a silent answer for Rilkie. His eyes are for the Hatchlings only, and their movements upon the Sands. As the brown stops, he relaxes, but only long enough to see the green. "Suddenly I'm glad the sands are hot - keeps me awake!" Not like he could sleep through this! He grins at Haisen, sparing her the briefest of glances. "Really? You?! I'm shocked!" And then he's wigging his free hand. "If you get too nervouse, you can hold my hand." If *she's* nervouse.. not him. Of course not him...

From the hatching sands, The Lunar Explosion egg explodes spectacularly, raining the closest candidates to it in a shower of fragmented shells. Lucky for the green of two left feet that emerges, one of those close by is who she bonds with immediately, though not until after she's sprawled in a comical way at the girl's feet. "Wohnsooth," the bright-eyed, near tearful harper says. "I am *your* Hespra."

R'hin gives a low chuckle, and one might get the sense he's pleased by Mahew's reaction. "Ah, well, family," he agrees knowingly with Giremi. "Perhaps in a few Turns," he adds, settling back into his seat.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn grins sidelong at the other candidate. "I don't think you need to worry if you're his intended. I've never seen a dragon even accidentally hurt the person it Impresses." She follows the gaze of the other girls to the newly-hatched green and nods. "She is. They all are, but she does seem to have an extra special shine."

Niklo's grinning wildly now, but she's still very careful to avoid toes, heads, and other various bits of people that might be sticking into the aisle as she finds a seat for herself. "Shards, they start kinda small," is her comment, a half-smirk on her face, "But sure don't stay that way. Can't help wonderin' if they," a nod to the candidates on the sands, "got any idead what they're gettin' into?"

From the hatching sands, Ring of Fire Egg has remained silent and still amidst the other noisily hatching eggs, until the dragonet within has finally had enough. A mighty *crack* starts a flurry of activity, and it rolls end over end a time or two before it stops.

From the hatching sands, Grace of a Predator Brown Hatchling starts forward again, a quick run, his selection apparently made. An off key bugle of excitement sounds once he finds her--here she is! Yep, this one's the one for him, and he gazes up at his tanned, blonde haired partner-to-be with no small amount of adoration.

Mahew gapes at the enormous brown hatchling, amazed by the Impression process.

Nolee can't help grinning as well, the first sign of ease in her shoulders causing her to stretch them and actually seem to be relaxing a little bit. "I can't imagine they did--I sure had no idea Thread could come back, and maybe when they said yes, they didn't either. Ugh, that and all the cleanup and oiling and ohh--they move so fast!"

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel, quick to spot the brown and his decisive move, nudges E'tyn. "Look there--see that brown? Now, watch..."

From the hatching sands, Haisen offers a terse, "Not *that* nervous." to clarify. She's not *that* nervous. Well, she's trying not to /be/ that nervous. Cam's hand is eyed almost balefully and she gives a curt shake of her head; definitely not *that* nervous. She lapses into silence again, starting to drift away in order to get a better look at what else is happening on the sands.

From the hatching sands, E'tyn, so commanded, watches obediently as his attention is directed to the decisive brown. For his Weyrwoman, a hand slips out to rest lightly behind her back, the gesture steadying his own nerves possibly, and filled with formality. "I'm watching," he teases lightly.

C'len idly leans back a moment, having heard a particular voice off to the side, then grins slightly before turning his attention back to the hatching. "We've been busy with extra drills, too," he remarks to Telgar's harper, brow furrowing slightly and revealing lines that probably weren't there, just a few sevendays earlier. "Still, good to have a hatching to lighten things up a bit! Couldn't have been timed better, I think."

From the hatching sands, Rilkie is, to say the least, startled by the sudden voice in her head. "Ancaith." She echoes, in a dazed voice. After a moment's confusion, training and instinct kick in, and she turns, leading the brown towards the proper area, "Food. This way, yes, plenty of it. Good stuff, not the dregs left for the last ones." She comments quietly.

From the hatching sands, Seramara half-giggles, too nervous for the real thing. "Maybe not, but I don't want to be the first...oh, the brown..." Peering after the dragonet (that eager run was unmistakable), she bounces up and down in happiness. No time to be nervous when the good stuff is happening. "Rilkie! Rilkie and An--Ancaith!"

From the hatching sands, Camerryn takes a hasty step back, pulling Rilkie along with him... until she's no long responsive. It takes the lad a little longer to understand the situation, and then he's grinning widely. "Rilkie... " is all he can manage to say. And, while Haisen might not be that nervouse, Camerryn probably is. And now he's hand-holding-partnerless. Poor boy.

From the hatching sands, Brilliance in Numbers Egg gives one last protracted shudder and then splits solidly down the middle as one dark headknob, then the other, punches through its outer shell. As the shell falls open, it leaves in its wake one rather guilty looking bronze, who perks up immediately when he settles his eyes on the ranks of candidates.

Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling

Distinctively tall, with an athletic build and broad shoulders, this bronze is striking for his build alone. Add to this his rich, ruddy color and he's even more noticeable. Fiery shades of carnelian bronze swathe his hide from his squared-off muzzle to his stubby copper tail, paling only slightly from those rusty, oxidated hues as they descend the insides of his legs and coat his belly and throat. Perhaps his most unique feature is his very large, swept-back headknobs, both a deeper shade than the surrounding hide. He's not a terribly bulky dragon, trending toward lithe rather than brimming with muscle, but he has a certain presence about him that refuses to be ignored, displayed in the tilt of his head and the determined glow of his eyes.

From the hatching sands, Breena, too, spies the brown's imminent Impression, and she hurries Rilkie's way. "Ancaith, did I hear? Wonderful--come this way, Tenli's got food for them."

From the hatching sands, Rilkie heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Rilkie has left.

"Thread," Niklo repeats, her grin fading around the edges at the thought. Then she shakes her head -- definitely not the time to starting thinking about that. "Hey, lookit th'brown, there!" she points to the young dragon and starts to grin again. "Looks like... m'I right, girl for 'im? Wonder if she'll be like Fadra an' Madge..." A slight shudder at the thought.

From the hatching sands, Ancaith heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Ancaith has left.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra grins weakly and moistens her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Wow...a brown...Rilkie Impressed a brown," she says, as if Ronari didn't know.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn nods. "Looks like you're safe for now, though," she notes as the brown chooses. "Congrats, Rilkie!" she calls out, doing a little dance of triumph for the other girl as well as to give her feet some relief.

From the hatching sands, Graedin draws back slightly as the brown heads in the diretion of the small knot near him. Then, as he finds Rilkie, he beams. "Hey, look, it's Rilkie this time!" A quick look of the sands around reveals two greens he didn't notice before. And considerably closer than that bronze. He steps half behind Cam and Sera for protection. "Whonder who they're after?"

From the hatching sands, The most non-descript egg of the clutch begins to shimmy and shake in a frenetic fashion. The shadow that exists across the shell of the Eclipse of the Cookie egg dissolves into dust as a chubby green face pokes out, shy. For her to get her bearings, it takes but a moment, and then she's found hers: Shialla. "Oh! Firyath!"

From the hatching sands, Water's Embrace Green Hatchling, with limbs gathered, steps forward clumsily, her left foot moving one direction her right another which gives her another moment's pause. As the white robes of the candidates catch her sight, the thin, pathetic creel fades out into a head tilt of curiosity that drives herself into coordinated motion. Faster now, though still lacking grace, the water sprayed green waddles towards the loose semi-circle.

From the hatching sands, Ronari's eyes fill with tears of happiness for her friend. She waves to Rilkie's retreating back, unable to form a coherent sentence as the atmosphere of the day has enveloped her totally. To Cam she extends her other hand--the one not occupied by Cyrra's, and calls his name quietly. The nerves that have been absent these long sevendays have finally arrived--and in full force.

Gay's rapid glancing eventually stops, though the comments around the galleries drift over her way. She takes a brief look over her shoulder, expression troubled before she returns her attention to the hatchlings, wrapping and unwrapping a curl around her finger.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn looks distinctly uncomfortable with Rilkie gone. He shuffles in the sands, mumbling, "Heat," as a lame excuse for his obvious discomfort. But it's not the Sands that make him edgy, it's the dragons. Graedin's hiding catches him by surprise, but he has no witty remark for the situation, just a casual, sympathetic and understanding smile.

From the hatching sands, Seramara isn't much protection for Graedin, but she'll try her best. "I guess we'll find out. Here comes that green, maybe she wants you. Or that one--no, wait, that one just picked Shialla--" Her usual bouncing is muted, though it's still the best way to see what all's going on.

From the hatching sands, Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling, when he settles his eyes on candidates, notably settles his eyes on /girl/ candidates. Nevermind he's very apparently bronze, and that's... just not going to work out. He takes a few stumbly steps before he gets the hang of that whole walking thing--and when he does, he near-prances toward the females he first sets eyes on.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra looks at Ronari with a hint of worry, brows furrowing until she realizes that those are happy tears. She tips her head, looking past Ronari to Camerryn, who has lost his buddy. Then, a larger dragonet is on the move and her eyes shift to the bronze, making sure she doesn't end up on the wrong side of him.

From the hatching sands, Ring of Fire Egg hasn't moved again, but tiny fractures have started to become visible, as the activity inside it increases. Not far now, as that web of cracks grows, though it's still impossible to see what lies inside.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel's brow furrows as she watches that bronze's antics. "And that one," she says to E'tyn, shaking her head, "that one's just confused. Awfully cute, though."

From the hatching sands, Olwyn eyes the bronze dragon curiously. "Now that I've not seen before. Usually they make a beeline for the males. Why would a bronze look at any girls?" she muses out loud, never pausing in her Hatching Sands Shuffle for a moment.

From the hatching sands, Water's Embrace Green Hatchling picks up her speed as this walking thing becomes far easier with practice *and* due to the rising motivation of finding not only her chosen, but food as well. Yellow creeps into her curious gaze, swirling hunger-fueled agitation as she trips along, dismissing candidates without truly looking at them until she stops at the feet of a dainty, dark-haired teenager. A shine enters her eyes and with a laughably tiny bugle of triumph, she leans forward to butt gently against the girl's legs.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn looks like a lost little canine, really. Finally, when Cyrra's eyes meet his, he hastens over - any excuse, really - and says, "Crazy bronze is headed for girls, might need a.. a..." A what, a shield?

Nolee hesitates a moment, then slowly puts together who Fadra is, then who 'Match' is, and groans. "Just what we need." Then she perks up, "Oh! But they're not ours. Good! Just what they need." Nodnod. Squinting at the Sands, she wonders, "How many left? How many paired up already? Jays, it's chilly here, even in their hatching arena."

"Of course, all the extra sweeps and watchriding and being ready and all," replies Giremi to C'len. "Yes. Hatchings do tend to --" he breaks off as an Impression is made and he claps for the relevant weyrling.

From the hatching sands, Graedin's grin to Cam and Sera in return is a trifle sheepish. "Nah - no green'd be interested in me." There we go with those small holder morals again, despite various beatings about it from others. "Maybe she's for you, Sera. Or 'Ari - looks like she'd be perfect for her. Or Cyrra. Or Olwyn, or..." he trails off mumbling, naming just about every other girl on the sands. As part of his protection from skeery greens leaves, he erks, and shifts to try to herd Seramara in closer to close the gaps that are appearing as more impressions are made.

From the hatching sands, From the non-descript Lunar Explosion Egg hatches a vibrant, royal blue beauty who stomps on the remaining shards a time or two before setting off to find his mate. When she's found, Andri, the auburn haired Telgari throws her arms around the blue's neck. "Tinsioth!"

From the hatching sands, Ronari falls to her knees and throws her arms around the green's neck. "Suraveth!" She calls out, more out of joy then duty, and strokes gently the softly still damp hide.

From the hatching sands, Breena hurries forward again, this time to Ronari and her Suraveth. "Ronari, right? Congratulations, she's beautiful! Come with me, Tenli and Therese will make sure you can get her plenty to eat."

From the hatching sands, Seramara takes a few nervous steps to the side when that bronze approaches. "I'm not your type," she tells him, trying to track the other eggs and hatchlings. "Really. Graedin, if you keep doing that, I'm going to trip and if that green wants me she won't be able to find me. Oh, hurrah Andri! And--and Ronari!"

From the hatching sands, Suraveth heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Suraveth has left.

From the hatching sands, Ring of Fire Egg has already started to fracture under the assault from within, but the dragonet has moved too quickly for anyone to catch a glimpse of it. That changes, however, as a golden wing spar finally breaks free, followed soon after by the rest of her: Telgar's newest queen, a Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling.

Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling

A coastal sky just before sunrise, pale gold and dew-heavy roses, washes this delicate queen from pert nose to tail, lending a diaphanous glow to her hide. A sculptor's chisel must have been used to carve out her sinuous neck, regal jaw, and the barely darker ridges which frame her large eyes. Shadows of glimmering bluish orchid can be seen amongst the brush strokes leading down the base of a strongly defined torso and lean flanks, lowlights complimenting her striking color. Curved ivory talons tip her dainty paws, while on her back gracious wings carry gossamer trails of the creamy rose glow of her hide in their webbing, the shading reaching up to mark more darkly along her spars. Her slight build radiates not only the inherited elegance of her dam, but the compassionate wisdom in her depthless ocean gaze.

From the hatching sands, Haisen will just stand over here and hope that odd bronze doesn't look at her overly long. She shifts her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, attention sliding from the hatchlings to the eggs and then to the occasional impressee -- like Ronari and her Suraveth.

From the hatching sands, Graedin apologizes to Sera, mumbling more. As the Water's Embrace green stops before Ronari and impression is made, he beams, ear to ear, fit to make his face split. "Ari! I knew you'd impress! And Suraveth! - that's perfect." His attention remains on the pair as they head off with the weyrlingmasters, before a nudge from a neighbor reminds him to keep looking onto the sands.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn gapes as dragons charge from everywhere. That crazy bronze coming at the girls, and then the crazy green... at least the green is stopped, and he lets out a sigh of relieve that sounds vaguelly like, "Good job, Ronari."

From the hatching sands, Sunwriting Egg makes its first motion of the day: a tiny little shake, a rock from one side to the other, before it quiets back down with an expectant air.

From the hatching sands, Ronari heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Ronari has left.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra's jaw droops as well as her hand as her partner is choosen by the lovely little green. "Oh Ronari, she's beautiful. Congratulations," she murmurs as the pair leaves, standing alone now and looking as if she feels very small indeed.

R'hin's attention seems to have wandered, gaze somewhat distant, brow furrowed faintly for a moment before a low chuckle escapes him, attention shifting back to the sands after a beat.

From the hatching sands, Seramara wipes a sheen of sweat from her forehead. "Oh, I knew Ronari would Impress. And she got the prettiest green...oh *shellcrack*." Her voice drops to an awed whisper when the gold hatches. "Beautiful, beautiful. Oh please..." But one doesn't think that way on the Sands, and she diverts herself. "Come stand with me and Graedin, Cyrra."

From the hatching sands, Camerryn will happily step in and provide Cyrra a handhold, or ashield.. or just.. ya know... safety in numbers. "Chin up, Cyrra. Can't be worse than Threadfall, right?"

Niklo can't help but snicker at her fellow goldrider's words, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She does, however, answer the question with a very not helpful, "Dunno. Wasn't really countin'." And as unhelpful as she was before, she's even less helpful in pointing out the very obvious, "Look! I think... s'that a gold?" A finger is pointed at the sands, while her jaw drops. "M'sure it is... ain't it?"

From the hatching sands, Olwyn lets out a brief cheer as Ronari meets her match. "Congratulations!" she calls out to the friendly girl, then directs her attention back to the various hatchlings reeling around. "Wow, a queen. None of the eggs had made me think they would have one."

From the hatching sands, Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling struts along in front of the girls, enjoying himself quite a lot as he gets a few admiring glances (and a few grumbles from boys wondering just what he's up to). The hatchling isn't deterred, though, and in fact he goes on to offer first a passing green and then the gold that hatches smarmy croons before he finally, apparently, comes to his senses. Hey, look! Boys! He trots that way at last.

From the hatching sands, Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg gives a twitch just one subtle little twitch. The only evidence of movement is a small trench left in the hot sand.

Tavrie shifts in her seat and smiles. "Ahh, lovely couples...ooooh...and what a fine little queen," she says, pleased with the new arrival to the sands. The young woman nods in approval, turning to exchange a few words with the person next to her.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel doesn't look surprised that there's a queen, but *something* has caught her attention, and she looks sidelong at Daelyth next. "She's kind of small, isn't she? Well. Smaller than the others you've birthed, anyway." Daelyth, meanwhile, doesn't seem to think anything's wrong with that--she just happily raises her voice in yet another joyful hum.

From the hatching sands, Graedin catches a glimpse of Cyrra's face and wordlessly offers his free arm out for her to shelter under, nodding in support of Sera's words. Finally he manges, a trifle thickly, "Come on, Cyrra." As all the excitement over the gold wanes, he glances back to the sands, keeping an eye out on the rest of the hatchlings out there. "Hey, that bronze's on the move - or /puttin'/ on the moves, I should say."

Nolee can't help her rudeness: she's pointing, and it's to point out the most obvious, so helpful to Niklo, surely. With her finger extended and everything. "Look, look," she calls. "Another bronze--oh no, she's not bronze, you're right. Too pale for that. Jays. So small. Deceptively small. Doesn't last, though, does it?" is companionably to the other goldrider.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn is oblivious to golds. He'd much rather shuffle his feet and pretend like he's being manly, and protective. "Is he finally coming to his senses," he asks Graedin.. and then he spots the gold. "Ooo, pretty little thing, even if she is kinda gooey."

From the hatching sands, Cyrra shifts over to stand by Camerryn, nodding faintly, though it is doubtful she really heard him. The shy girl shifts over to stand behind his shoulder a little, still to timid to take his hand.

"It goes too quickly," C'len says, head turning back and forth as one egg hatches, its hatchling quickly finding a match, while another hatchling seems to be enjoying the attention he's receiving by being out on the sands. He does grin, though, crossing his arms in front of him, seeming to enjoy the sights despite the quickness with which the hatching is progressing.

From the hatching sands, Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling sits there in what remains of her shell, head canted as she ponders what to do next. Pale golden wings spread, and she tries in vain to shake off a few of the excess shards, one of which is stuck to the top of her head, marring her otherwise delicate beauty. She heaves a put-upon sigh, but gets to her feet, determined to carry on in spite of the less than ideal conditions. But who to choose..?

From the hatching sands, "Interval," explains E'tyn, then immediately looks apologetic for it. "I mean well..." The Weyrleader looks to the insufferably proud father of this clutch, the shared gaze between rider and dragon bringing a quick grin to his mouth. "He says it's not *his* fault at any rate."

Gay's eyes go wide as the gold hatches, taking a look over at her dam with an impressed expression. "Nice work, Daelyth. Tiny though..." she murmurs to herself, crossing her legs and somehow managing to be more nervous and pleased all at the same time.

From the hatching sands, Brown the color of tanned hide coats the color of the wing spar that pokes its way out of the Emerald Skyroads Egg, his coloring already a fine contrast for the egg from which he's birthed. When he's finally revealed, the smallish brown within proves to be that same shade all over, save for a rakish patch of emerald green around his left eye. He's a decisive one, though--he bolts forward and stakes his claim on a tow-haired boy from the Weavercraft. "Vereth!"

From the hatching sands, Graedin doesn't get to play big brother to Cyrra, but it doesn't look like he's too concerned with it at the moment. Since there are no skeery greens near him at the moment, he moves to close up the gaps left by those impressing from the little knot around him. "Dunno, Cam. Lookit his hide, though." He still hasn't let go of Sera, and he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn wiggles his free hand towards Cyrra, the offer open. "It's not so bad, Cyrra, really. Breath in, breath out..." Their earlier disagreements seem to have been forgotten, at least for the time being.

From the hatching sands, Haisen shifts her gaze briefly to the gold, mouth contorting into an unreadable line before her eyes wander onward. Keeping tabs on this or that or the other -- how many eggs left, how many hatchlings, how many candidates -- but overall just keeping to herself.

"S'a gold," Niklo's voice is sure now, "I know it." Her nose wrinkles slightly as she catches murmurs and comments about the young queen, "She ain't that small! 'Sides. Nothin' wrong with that." Sage nod. "A gold's a gold, no matter th'size." And she's not just saying that because her own lifemate doesn't quite measure up to some of the others. Really. "I wonder who she's gonna pick?"

From the hatching sands, Seramara is still just a tad fixated on the gold. It's her lifelong fascination with shiny objects, really. "Oh look, she's *walking*." As dragons do. "Cam's right, Cyrra. We're doing really well, and nobody's been hurt or anything. Just Impressions, and those are of the good."

From the hatching sands, Sunwriting Egg fidgets again, the motion stronger as the occupant within comes to life. The egg actually bounces a little, starting a cascade of sand down from its slight mound, and the egg tips end over end as it comes to rest in a little depression.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra finally breaks down and slides her small hand into Camerryn's. Then, she makes another frantic search of the stands. That's it! There is what she is looking for. Cyrras spots her sister, Tiriana and her adoptive father, Sh'drian in the stands, a smile now breaking out on her face.

Shanlee enters the galleries from the bowl. Shanlee has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn, in contrast to those she's standing near, seems more interested in the bronze. She continues to watch him curiously. "I guess he's figured out he shouldn't look at the girls. Who will he pick, though?" she says out loud, but not necessarily in a tone requiring a response.

From the hatching sands, Camerryn seems maybe more relieved than Cyrra when his hand is taken. He throws his shoulders back, and dons a wide grin. Forced, but it works. He gives her a reassuring squeeze, and nods for Graedin. "Not as scary as that brown was, that's for sure."

From the hatching sands, Passionate Carnelian Bronze Hatchling, once he finds the boys, doesn't really waste any time. Purposeful at last, he straightens his shoulders and then sets off after a brief pause and a sniff of the air at a faster pace, his mind apparently now made up. He butts his head at the stomach of one short, brown-headed boy.

Nolee scans the little ring of candidates and shakes her head. "From here, I can't even tell whose boys and whose girls. They should all have to cut their hair before they go on the sands--then you could sorta see faces past all those white robes and sweats." Interested in the other wobbling eggs, her focus keeps shifting. "Even from up here it all happens so fast."

Birgitte survives the long slide along Lili's skittish, rose-stained side. Birgitte has arrived.

From the hatching sands, C'mryn tenses. He takes three steps back in quick succession, but they're no match for the bronze. His stomach is hit, and he nearly topples. Cyrra's hand is gone, and for a moment, the young lad just tries to catch his breath. Eventually, a confident hand reaches out to touch his bronze. *his* bronze! "His name is Tausreth!" he cause, the elation of Impression clear in his voice. It's only moments later before Cam's hand returns to his stomach, and he grimaces. "Yea.. food.. a very good idea..."

From the hatching sands, Graedin bellows, loud and clear, "CAM!" He shifts on the sands, "He got a bronze! Guess he'll be staying put /now/ for a while!" A beaming smile is directed over towards Camerryn - now C'mryn - as he heads off the sands, before he looks back to still hatching eggs. And Cyrra. Poor Cyrra keeps getting left behind. Now he offers the arm out again, "Hey, come on over," and moves to close up the rank.

From the hatching sands, Breena heads C'mryn's way, laughing. "This just figures. Remember now, don't bend over, hmm? Follow me this way, they're waiting in the barracks with food." She motions toward the barracks, clearing the way for the new-made pair.

From the hatching sands, The Sunwriting Egg quivers again, tentative at first and then bolder as one delicate talon slices through one of the twin patches of color on its shell. A paw follows, and then a nose, wriggling out of the shell and shrugging it off as a dark blue slips free of its confines.

Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling

Rich Prussian blue shades itself across this dragon's hide, cloaking him evenly in its night-hued shades. Average height and length, he's slender enough to give the impression of greater length, helped greatly in this illusion by his long and sinuous neck, tail, and limbs, the latter tipped by dainty black talons. His fine-boned features are distinctly patrician: a narrow muzzle and rounded jaw, deep-set doe-like eyes, and delicately curved headknobs, all covered in velvet hide the color of the eastern sky just after sunset. The wings which extend from his back are large and broad, with generous sails which, while tinted the same twilight shade as the rest of him, are thin enough to glow translucent in the light.

From the hatching sands, Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg twitches again and again, until its full on shaking and cracking. Whatevers in there is big and it wants out.

From the hatching sands, C'mryn spares a glance for Breena, and in that sudden instant, his eyes go wide and a sef-concious hand goes to the back of his rob, making sure it stays in place. It doesn't take much convincing to get him to leave, though.

From the hatching sands, C'mryn heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, C'mryn has left.

From the hatching sands, Tausreth heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Tausreth has left.

From the hatching sands, Seramara starts jumping up and down, almost pulling her hand out of Graedin's grip. "Cam! Cam's, he's *great*! Congratulations!" The blue is almost overlooked--only almost. "And another. Over half done now. Come on over, Cyrra."

From the hatching sands, Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling is momentarily distracted from her quest for a lifemate by one of her fellow hatchlings, to whom she gives an encouraging trill. Only once he's safely on his way does she turn back to her own task, though it's not turning out to be an easy one. Already, she's made one pass of the remaining Candidates, and each step gets a little slower as she tries to avoid having to go back again.

Shanlee begins to wend her way quickly up into the galleries offering a wave or nod to those she knows already seated there. Apologising to one for obstructing the view and another for almost stepping on a toe, the Reachian rider finally makes her way up to where C'len, R'hin and what looks to be two harpers are sitting "Evening C'len, Weyrleader, Harpers."

From the hatching sands, The Galaxial Glories Egg breaks into four tidy, evenly sized pieces, leaving a prim and proper sky blue dragonet sitting on the hot sands, looking rather smug. So pleased is he with the overly neat destruction of his egg that he has to be nudged into getting his act in gear by his dam and sire. When he finally makes his selection, it's clear that this pairing will be a study in opposites, for he finds his mate in young Lindra, the messiest candidate of them all.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn grins as the formerly-confused bronze finally figures things out. "Oh, good, he's not as confused as he looked at first. Good for Cam, or whatever he's going to be called now."

Niklo makes a face, shaking her head at Nolee's suggestion. "Naw," the girl disagrees, "th'ones that Impress'll have t'cut their hair soon 'nuff." Unconsciously she reaches up to touch her own short hair. "An' it ain't too hard t'tell -- mostly. 'Specially there!" A finger is pointed at the bronze and his new lifemate.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra, looking shocked and yet still smiling for Camerryn, sidles over to lurk rather forlornly near Graedin. Borrowing his strength, she glances out at the new blue when attention is drawn to him, blinking back the heat.

Mahew shakes himself from his reverie and greets Shanlee. "Mahew, High Reaches' new posted Harper. Very pleased to meet you." His gaze is drawn back to the sands by the loud shattering of an egg as a blue dragonet emerges. Mahew gawps, amazed still at the process of the Hatching.

From the hatching sands, Haisen is peripherally aware of the dwindling candidate ranks and she unconsciously begins to gravitate towards those that are left. She's chewing a little on her lower lip, absently, eyebrows knotted while she studies the latest hatchlings.

"Evenin' Shan," C'len greets, taking his eyes momentarily from the hatching to nod at her before he's back to looking at the sands. He almost misses the impression of the quick blue, but grins as he catches the moment of impression. He does have the manners to scoot over some, allowing space for the wingsecond to sit should she wish to join them.

From the hatching sands, Graedin bounces slightly with Sera - that way his arm doesn't get yanked out of the socket, see - and beams. "Not many left now though. Oh, lookit that blue!" He gives a friendly smile to Haisen and beckons her over with the free hand sheltering Cyrra. "Has that gold picked yet?"

Looking somewhat distracted, R'hin's gaze is directed towards the sands, though doesn't seem too focused. He straightens at the familiar voice, greeting the wingsecond with a warm, "Shan! Good to see you," he says with a grin. A sidelong glance to Mahew, and he adds, wryly, "First time," with a flick of fingers towards the 'Reachian harper, by way of explanation.

From the hatching sands, Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling, finding himself on the sands now, glances around once at the candidates, the Weyrleaders, the stands, and then--having noted his audience--he straightens up and hops a little, finding his feet under him. Then, that established, he starts gliding off, graceful already, toward the candidates.

Giremi nods politely as Shanlee approaches. "Harper's duties, Giremi, Journeyman," he introduces himself. "Originally from the Reaches." He peeks around as another Impression is made. "There goes that bronze." Unaccountably, the harper is wrinkling his nose however, rather than clapping.

Mahew becomes suddenly self concious, acknowledging R'hin's jibe with a smile, closing his mouth and folding his arms, unsuccessfully attempting to appear seasoned.

From the hatching sands, Seramara hasn't a free hand to comfortingly pat Cyrra, but she smiles at the girl, nodding towards the pacing gold and gliding blue. "Aren't they lovely? And nobody's getting charged...no, the gold can't seem to find anyone." Her eyes widen. "maybe there'll be a Stands Impression! I've heard of those!"

From the hatching sands, Its jewels shimmering and shifting under the pressure from within, the Midnight 'Mine' Game Egg begins to shake in earnest, cracks spidering their way from starry top to bottom. The shell practically disintegrates in the end, less hatching its occupant than /unveiling/ a Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling.

Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling

This hatchling is made up of sooty shadow and fire in the form of brilliant molten bronze. Hot metal spills across his hide from the top of his head to the tip of his tail; dripping down egg-thin sides, haunches and long neck. Broad shoulders and long limbs cool into a deep mellow hue, his toes and talons fogging with dark, ashy black. The same black darkens his otherwise transparent wingsails and sturdy bronzed wingbones, his wingspan impressive even out of the shell. Like his sire, there is an obvious potential for strength in his every movement - and an unshakeable confidence in every step.

From the hatching sands, Coastal Dawn Gold Hatchling has slowed so much now that she's nearly stopped, and she pauses to look deeply into each face that she passes by. Some are dismissed out of hand--usually the boys, but a girl or two, as well--while others she seems to be marking for further consideration. All at once, she stops in front of a young woman with long, auburn hair, and where there was unhappiness before, now, there's only love, for here is the one who will make her life complete.

Shanlee offers the Harper a smile "Well met Mahew." her tone somewhat distracted as the activity on the Sands draws her. It's when C'len scoots over that her attention her is drawn back offering a quiet "Thanks." to him before seating herself next to him. "Likewise Sir." the wingsecond returns to R'hin a warm smile in place, then it's back to the sands, rocking eggs and impressions. "Well met Giremi." returned quickly as the Telgar Harper introduces himself too.

Nolee actually gets to -almost- see an impression, thanks to Niklo's return point. Polite ladies, these two are, pointing fingers and all, though hers comes down to help with applauding the new pair. "Less messy than some of ours have been," she remarks. "No one injured yet, so far's I can tell."

Birgitte slides in as just another High Reaches shadow in blue and black, joining a cluster of younger folks jostling for position along the edges. She settles in to catch a bit of hide here and there as impressions are made.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel straightens, watching the young queen, and shares a look with Daelyth as the young one finds her lifemate. "Ah, see...that's the part that makes it all worthwhile, you know, E'tyn? Why be nervous when you get to watch stuff like this?"

From the hatching sands, The bright yellow spirals of the Cat's-Eye Reflection egg crumble into the egg, eliciting what sounds like a tiny sneeze. This in turn causes the remaining egg to fall apart to display the curled up body of a teeny tiny jade green. She looks about and then moves in silence to stand hesitantly in front of a wisp of a boy, just as shy as she is. Y'mer barely manages to stutter out a name: "Daejith."

From the hatching sands, "Next time," the Weyrleader is quick to respond, an easy rock to his legs, "I hope to be sitting up there." The hand free of his trousers waves to the galleries, "And watching rather than roasting."

One might almost get the sensation that the Istan weyrleaders aren't here to keep an eye on Nolee and Niklo; Griere glances at them from time to time, oft-disapprovingly, but both she and V'lano are mostly enchanted in watching the hatchlings choose their mates below. When the little queen selects, V'lano murmurs something quite low, leaning toward his weyrmate to let the words be for her alone, then straightens with a nod.

From the hatching sands, Olwyn glances around the sands, the diminishing number of candidates and dragons alike not seeming to phase her too much. She's been here before, after all. She turns her head towards Seramara, her mouth opening when the young queen comes to a halt before her. Her head whips back and she stares into the amethyst eyes in disbelief. "Aleith? Are you sure?" she stammers, then tears fill her eyes as she puts out a hand to touch the delicate gold. "Oh, of course, we can't let you starve, darling."

From the hatching sands, Breena's eyes widen some as she watches the gold's impression, and yet once more, she's hurrying forward, this time towards Olwyn. "I just bet she's hungry, follow me now, we'll take care of that. This way..."

From the hatching sands, Olwyn heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Olwyn has left.

From the hatching sands, Aleith heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Aleith has left.

From the hatching sands, Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling is on his way to make his first pass of the candidates when he apparently changes his mind and doubles back on his path, toward the other end of the line to start the inspection there. That's apparently better because he continues onward now, rejecting the first handful of candidates he comes across.

From the hatching sands, Graedin blinks as the queen ends up in front of Olwyn, just the other side of Sera. "Wow - well, she's good with kids..." Why this pairing should make sense in his mind is abundantly Not Clear. "Hey! There's a blue and a bronze left." No skeery greens.

From the hatching sands, Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling takes a moment to collect himself, looking around at the busy scene around him and his dam and sire above him - before taking his first slow, /careful/ steps out into the chaos. He's on a mission, after all.

Niklo's all eyes for the gold, as if watching her own lifemate Impress all over again. When the little queen finally picks the girl grins, crossing her arms over her chest and looking both thoughtful and amused. "Good," is her only comment, then as a side note she adds, "...Wonder th'girl's got any idea how much trouble th'little darlin' is gonna be." More a statement than a question. But she's still grinning.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra smiles as the gold chooses Olwyn, smiling in her shy way. "Congratulations, Olwyn," she offers as the other candidate heads off the sands with her new lifemate. The tension seems to have evened out for Cyrra now, though she still sticks close to Graedin.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel watches as Olwyn and Aleith leave, then looks sidelong at E'tyn. "You remember that the Weyrleaders have a job when all's said and done, right? While that knot's still yours, you should be here...roasting." She pauses, then grins. "Makes you sometimes wish they wouldn't rise as often as they do."

Shanlee settles back, a wide grin forming as the little queen finds her lifemate, this was exactly the kind of distraction she'd needed. The blue and bronze hatchlings carefully scrutinised before she asks of C'len "Have there been many greens?" a little embarassed at having arrived so late in the proceedings.

From the hatching sands, Graedin beams at Cyrra on one side, Sera on the other. "Not long now. Shells, I'm thirsty. Wonder if we'll get to see the others at the feast. He shuffles his feet, and then scratches at the stubble on his jawline. "I'm gonna need another bath," he notes, more to himself than anything.

From the hatching sands, "Roasting," E'tyn turns sheepish at the reminder. "We could always just come down the steps afterwards." The suggestion he makes is lowly uttered, a fleeting look shot to the cool escape of the stairs.

From the hatching sands, Seramara is wrong, but she's been wrong before. "Or maybe not. Olwyn, she's *wonderful*." And if she looks a little wistful as she steps away from the girl, no matter. She was *close*. "Lessee, blue and bronze...and maybe one more gg, or two? Hard to tell from here."

From the hatching sands, Mellow Molten Bronze Hatchling drags himself to standing to finally take a look at the candidates left out on the burning sands. Maybe there is some method to all his slipping and sliding, because he doesnt have far to go he moves swiftly, clumsily, and unerringly for the big candidate in the poorly sewn robe.

C'len hmms. "At least two? I can't say I've kept much of a count," the rider admits with a shrug, "But if you find someone that's betting on 'em, I bet he'd be able to give you a number." C'len idly twists the end of the orange scarf wrapped around his neck, watching as the last few remaining eggs break shell.

From the hatching sands, Breena returns from the barracks once more, muttering. "Shards and shells--I don't suppose you two could tell them to slow it down a little could you?" This, apparently, to the Weyrleaders, though it's good-natured, and now she's just waiting for the next one, bouncing in place a bit.

From the hatching sands, Seramara lets go of Graedin's hand and steps aside, murmuring to Cyrra, "I think we'rein the way..."

"Wait, did I miss it?" Nolee wails, leaning forward to see over the tops of the heads of taller dignitaries and observers. "Ohh, she picked someone! And that one did, too." Vague pointing, and a happy sigh brings into sight someone's waving orange scarf, and a contented little smile creeps over her face.

From the hatching sands, Twilight Prussian Blue Hatchling still can't make up his mind, however, because shortly after snubbing a couple of boys he turns right back around to whuffle at them, and they look at him hopefully. And then he moves on again, forward once more as he gets progressively on through the line--somehow, he manages, despite on a couple more occasions flip-flopping around to reconsider a candidate. But finally, his gamboling progress turns into a bolt as he finds one he does approve of, and he pulls up to barely brush his muzzle against one coltish, quiet girl.

Giremi shakes his head as well, "Didn't count them, but I did see one at least wander by, nice sea-like colors," notes the harper with a smile for Shanlee.

From the hatching sands, Cyrra nods at Seramara and lowers her gaze when Graedin smiles at her, still seeming unsure of him. But then, she doesn't have to be. The bronze surprises Cyrra when he appears and she steps away from Graedin, again, giving up her company. As she backs off, Cyrra lifts her gaze and finds the blue hatchling glancing in her direction. Before she can breathe, he has covered the distance, muzzle close to her. Placing gentle hands on either side of his head, the shy girl lowers her cheek to his muzzle, a tear dropping to roll down and plink off the end of his nose. "Emisath...I'm safe with you. We can get you fed immediately," she tells him lovingly and with confidence.

Shanlee had once again become lost in the goings on of the Sands when C'len replies "Huh? Oh, right. Two....good in the air." she mutters seeming to be making mental note of something. "I know one of the Candidates, but I don't see her down there. Hopefully that means she impressed." a slightly disappointed look for missing Ronari's impression when Giremi replies. "Do you know if Ronari impressed?" is asked of the Telgari Harper.

From the hatching sands, Breena's muttered, "Apparently not," is more to herself than anything else, then she's off again, toward Cyrra and Emisath. "He's such a pretty color, isn't he? Come this way, please, there's food in the barracks for you, I'm sure he's hungry."

From the hatching sands, Cyrra heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Cyrra has left.

"Olwyn," Gay murmurs, breaking into a wide smile. That fades after a moment or two, and the weyrwoman returns to nervous twisting of hair, and shifting in her seat - until she sees the bronze head for a very familiar figure. "Shards - Grae." Her expression is a bit conflicted at that.

From the hatching sands, Emisath heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Emisath has left.

Giremi looks over and nods at Shanlee, "That was her, on green, I'm pretty sure, one of the other girls with an R-name Impressed brown," explains the Harper. "Caught that much before things started going crazy fast."

Niklo bobs her head in a vigorous nod, "Yup, she picked! An'... wow." Eyes off the gold now, she takes a full look around. "Sure are goin' fast, ain't they?" A thoughtful pause. "Everythin' happens so fast. Not jus' th'hatchin'." That thought seems to amuse her, and she laughs quietly. "Ooh, pretty blue, there. An' he picked, too. Shards."

C'len listens for Giremi's reply, not knowing of whom he and Shan speak, but grins nevertheless. "Ah, looks like it'll be done soon." And then, we eat!

From the hatching sands, Graedin has time to blink in confusion as Sera moves away. And as Cyrra impresses next to him, he ahs softly, stepping out slightly. "Emisath. Gr-" Then he's utterly gone as the Mellow Molten bronze claims him. As E'tyn and Nimiriel were commenting earlier, Graedin does look rather like he was hit in the back of the head with a board. A big one. A big, heavy one. Maybe even with a rusty nail or two for good measure. All thought leaves his head as Gr'din drops to his knees next to Sareith. He chokes out, "I'm no kid - Sareith." Unabashedly, he reaches out to smooth egg goo and ssand off his bronze. "We'll find something to eat."

From the hatching sands, Seramara stops mid-step, smiling in unexpected joy as both her friends are claimed. "Oh--both of you--" Her usual chatter is reduced to fragments, and her eyes are very bright. "I'm so glad. Congratulations!" And now it's all down to a few scattered folk, and some eggshells, and she lets herself slump just a little. "Oh, well..."

From the hatching sands, Breena has only just returned from escorting Cyrra to the barracks when she returns and is faced with *another* impression. "Ah, here we are--he's rather lovely, isn't he? Come on this way, I know he's hungry. This way, and..." She takes a quick glance at the sands, and adds low, "I'll follow you."

R'hin half turns to catch the others speak, brow furrowing briefly. "Ronari? Hm. She was at High Reaches for a time, wasn't she?" he murmurs, gaze flickering back towards the sands. "I didn't know she was one of the candidates."

From the hatching sands, Gr'din blinks at Breena, still with that poleaxed expression on his face, as he rises and ushers Sareith off the sands, slowing his steps for the smaller ones of the hatchling. A fleeting look is chanced up, and a lopsided grin for Seramara as he passes.

From the hatching sands, Gr'din heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Gr'din has left.

From the hatching sands, Sareith heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Sareith has left.

From the hatching sands, Breena heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Breena has left.

Birgitte watches the hatching and pretty much nothing else, her eyes bright with delight and rememberance. She nudges the lean young man next too her and whispers, "Not enough 'i's in these dragon names, if you ask me, but I suppose they'll do. They certainly look hale and healthy.... the dragonets, the Candidates look like they should... bedraggled."

As the action down below subsides, Giremi shakes himself upright. "I should probably go get set up for the music, C'len, hope to see you down there," he offers the rider a handshake and nods Mahew's way. "You're welcome to join me if you're staying around, Journyeman. Clear skies to all returning home right after," he offers generally and starts picking his way down out of the galleries.

Giremi walks out into the bowl. Giremi has left.

Gay stands up after the last of the hatchlings have paired up and the candidates left are being ushered off the sands. Ignoring a few people in the first few rows trying to get her attention, she takes a deep breath to shout - somewhat politely, at least - "Hey! Attention! Thanks for coming to Telgar to celebrate the hatching. You're all more than welcome to join us in the living cavern for food and drink." She flashes a brilliant smile to all and sundry. "I could use one."

Shanlee chuckles, at C'len "Seems to be so. Should have listened Kaylith and come earlier." then returns a smile to Giremi "I'll have to be sure to come over and see her if I get a chance too then." R'hin's query has the wingsecond nodding her head "Yes Sir. That's where I met her. Came over to see the eggs and found Candidate Ronari sitting here." a hand waves vaguely around them. A low chuckle spills out "Met him too. Should have known bronze was his colour." this of Gr'din as he leaves.

R'layn walks out into the bowl. R'layn has left.

Gay hops on down, and starts out.

Mahew rises slowly, flabbergasted and not a little bit stunned at the spectacle he just experienced. "Well, Weyrleader," he directs to R'hin, "You promised me a spectacle. Spectacle it was indeed." He grins at all those sitting around him in the High Reaches area. "Forgive my silence, my hanging jaw and all my other rudeness during the Hatching."

"Fairly quick one," V'lano notes to Griere, who's frowning for some reason at the Reachian wingleader a few rows away. The Istan weyrleader clears his throat softly, and has a merry, winning smile for his weyrmate when she turns to look at him. "Shall we?"

Gay walks out into the bowl. Gay has left.

From the hatching sands, Nimiriel steps forward as Breena leads Gr'din and Sareith away, looking toward those candidates remaining. "This is always the hardest part," she says, sighing. "Even after so many Turns. Well. Though you didn't find your lifemates on the sands here today, we're so glad that you were able to spend some time here with us. Just because you didn't Impress today doesn't mean that you never will--our Search dragons saw something special in you, and it's not ever something that you lose." She pauses, then smiles. "You are, of course, more than welcome to stay with us here at Telgar, but if you choose to go home, we'll provide transportation for that. For tonight, though, please do stay with us--join the feast, if you feel up to it, and if you need a quiet place to talk, we can find somewhere for that, too."

From the hatching sands, Haisen takes one long look at the remaining shards out on the sands before her with that blank unreadable expression. She's barely listening, her eyes searching those left in the stands before something said gets back her attention. Once the speech is said and done, "That's that," is all she says at the end of it, a faint grin given to those candidates around her. With no other words left to say, she turns and makes her way off the sands, the quickness in her step easy to notice by most. Yep, she's definitely looking for her hard-earned drink.

Tavrie spots Shanlee and moves through the crowd that is departing to get to her. "Hey there, glad to see a familiar face," she notes with a grin. "Are you going to go and socialize?" the junior weyrwoman asks of her friend cheerfully.

R'hin's gaze trails after the last pair, exhaling slowly. He grins at Mahew's words, looking amused. "Indeed. And one not long to follow at 'Reaches, too. Satiet's fairly sore about not being able to leave the sands, I think," he gestures towards the Telgarian sands. "She'd much rather have been here." A distant look crosses his features for a moment, before he rises. "I've a meeting back at the 'Reaches. But, you're welcome to remain for the feast and speak with your fellow harper, if you'd like," he directs to Mahew. "I'm sure you'll be able to find a 'Reachian around to bring you back - or you can return with me, if you'd prefer."

From the hatching sands, E'tyn might agree with Haisen on that hard-earned drink if he had any idea, and just looks relieved when Nimiriel steps forward. "Weyrwoman," he steps forward, speaking lowly respectful, and offers his arm.

From the hatching sands, Seramara listens, nodding slowly. "Feast later," she says quietly to herself. "I guess I should change back into real clothes now." She fingers a fold of her robe, smiles tiredly, and paces back across the sand,dodging eggshards.

Mahew smiles at R'hin, liking the man. "My thanks to you, Weyrleader. I daren't leave Giremi to this mob by himself."

From the hatching sands, Seramara heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Seramara has left.

From the hatching sands, Haisen heads off towards the bowl on the way to the weyrling barracks. From the hatching sands, Haisen has left.

Shanlee stands about to make her way down again when Tavrie finds her "Hey Tavrie." a smile returned for the junior weyrwoman's neverending cheerfulness "No, I don't think I will." a look around the emptying stands given "Too many people." her tone low and confidential "Just wanted to remember what it was like for us."

Nolee nods, especially as the official concluding speech is given by someone official-looking. "It does!" She rises with the crowd, stretching and rubbing at her backside, not caring if the action is not particularly suited to the occasion. "I'm numb! Good thing the caverns are a bit of a walk away, or we'd all be too stiff-legged to share the meal. Shall we?"

From the hatching sands, R'dur, having been jittering by the Weyrleaders in silence throughout the hatching, breaks into a relieved smile when the hatching finishes and he can slip off himself, toward the galleries to find Brijana. And Tiriana. And... oh, look. Daddy's come to see his girls. R'dur cringes and slinks forward when he sees his brother, but can't escape a family reunion at the entrance to the bowl this time, however unthrilled about it he looks.

R'hin offers a low-throated chuckle at Mahew's answer. "Well spoken, Harper. I'll see you back at the Weyr later. C'len, Shan," a nod is offered to each, then to Tavrie as she approaches Shanlee, "Evening, weyrwoman." He strides out with the crowd, fast walk carrying him out fairly swiftly.

You walk into the Central Bowl from the Galleries.