Difference between revisions of "Logs:Of Generosity"

Your location's current time: 15:48 on day 31, month 5, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a spring afternoon.

You fly towards the opening into the Hatching Grounds. You clamber down Leiventh's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. Viewing Ledges(#1375RDJ$) These are the ledges for dragons and their riders to watch the hatchings and clutchings that take place upon the sands below. There is a particularly large ledge reserved for bronzes and visiting queens, although the sands are easily visible from all ledges, and can accomodate several dragons each. At first glance, it looks as if as many as 500 or so dragons could land on these ledges. To the southeast, a large opening is visible in the wall of the cavern itself, through which parts of the bowl can be seen. Enter 'clutch help' for a list of commands for viewing the sands. Those with wings can fly down to the Sands or out of the cavern via the Sky exit. Those on foot will have to settle for walking down the stairs to the Bowl. Contents: DRAGONS: Leiventh Talurith PLAYERS: R'hin

Obvious Exits: Sky Bowl Sands

Maxeoth flies into the cavern from the entrance to the bowl. Maxeoth has arrived.

M'wen jumps down Maxeoth's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds. M'wen has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Ailani emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Ailani has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Tarien emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Tarien has arrived.

From the hatching sands, K'ran emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, K'ran has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Breena emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Breena has arrived.

From the hatching sands, R'dur emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, R'dur has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Iestyn emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Iestyn has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Sorren emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Sorren has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Sabi emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Sabi has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Aethe emerges from the candidate barracks. From the hatching sands, Aethe has arrived.

From the hatching sands, True to the Weyrwoman's word, the eggs that Soraeth and Uralth have watched over so carefully over these past months are indeed moving. The queen's gaze is intent upon the candidates as they emerge, her low hum taking on a note of encouragement for those in white.

From the hatching sands, Sorren looks up at all the things going on, dragons, people watching, eggs moving. She turns back towards the encouraging hum from the beautiful queen, a smile breaking through her determined look. This wasn't like the one she saw before."

From the hatching sands, Uralth adds his rumble of welcome, his own gaze following the candidates as they walk upon the sands, though he does spare a warm glance for Z'nal, who has settled himself into a comfortable akimbo stance to watch the proceedings, a hand resting lightly upon the brown's hide.

From the hatching sands, R'dur looks almost calm by the time he leads the candidates onto the sands with Breena. The shy brownrider steps back as the candidates head out, pausing to hiss to the nearest pair, "Remember to bow!" Then, stepping back, he tangles his hands in the edge of his shirt to keep them mostly still.

From the hatching sands, Iestyn releases a sharp exhale as the heat of the hatching sands washes over him, his pace slowing considerably, urged on only by the fact that there are other candidates behind him. Dark eyes flicker this way and that before finally settling on the dam and sire, and remembering what he was taught, he bows towards Soraeth and Uralth, before moving quickly into place in the semi-circle.

From the hatching sands, The Mosaic Flower Egg twitches and shakes and rolls end over end - let. Me. OUT! A triumphant but off-key bugle marks the success of the small, emerald green that bounces from the shards of her egg. After some indecisive pacing, she makes her choice, a tall, dark-haired girl from Woodcraft.

From the hatching sands, Spiraling Blue Lightning Egg wiggles just enough in its warm hollow of sand to catch attention of anyone who might be looking its way. Aside from that, it remains still--the quiet before the storm, perhaps.

From the hatching sands, Aethe steps onto the stands watchfully, almost like he's intent to memorize every grain underfoot. Almost as an afterthought he bows to the presiding gold, keeping his hands balled at his sides to keep from fidgeting at the hem of his robes as he looks bemusedly about.

From the hatching sands, Purple Rose Egg shudders slightly as it rolls out of the sand, then sits quitely with only faint trembling.

From the hatching sands, Sabi stumbles a bit as the heat from the sands hit's her. Glaring at the candidates around her, she acts as though it were their fault. Turning to the Dam and Sire of the clutch, she gives a slight bow, obviously not wanting to get on the wrong side of the big dragons.

From the hatching sands, K'ran stays to the fringes of the sands, near Tarien, lest he be caught in the melee of the hatching. Still, his eyes are on those hatchlings -- five of their six ends being pointy -- as they take their first clumsy steps toward fragile candidates.

From the hatching sands, Sorren looks back with a panicked expression at the reminder to bow, and hastily proceeds to do so, curtseying low before the dragons. She keesp her eyes alert and focused, watchful for signs of an accident.

From the hatching sands, R'dur's mouth opens and closes twice at the hatching of the first egg, and he gulps. "Oh, dear. Please don't die on me. Please, please, please," is his under-his-breath litany, repeated often in the next few minutes as further eggs rock ominously.

Avrieth flies into the cavern from the entrance to the bowl. Avrieth has arrived.

From the hatching sands, "Faranth, already? Here, she's lovely--this way," Therese encourages, leading the newest pair off the sands. "Food this way." Breena just watches, keeping an eye out for the next ones.

Claret slithers down from her perch on Avrieth's neck. Claret has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Spiraling Blue Lightning Egg starts to shake in earnest now, sharp tap-tap-tapping noises heard from within by anyone who happens to be close...which is, hopefully, no one, since that shaking gets more ambitious. It won't be long now, the occupant within is far too impatient to wait for long!

From the hatching sands, Iestyn slides a sideward glance at Sabi, faint smile hidden under sudden ducking of head. He edges closer to the candidate to his left, murmuring under his breath to the girl, reassuring words that he might look like he could use himself. He practically jumps as the first egg cracks and impression is made swiftly, hands pressing down on the sides of his robe, dark eyes wide.

From the hatching sands, Purple Rose Egg begins to activly rock and shudder. A lacing network of cracks cover its surface as the egg threatens to break.

From the hatching sands, Tarien brushes a stray wisp of hair out of her face, smiles up at K'ran, then turns a reassuring look Ailani's way. "They look lovely so far -- all will be well," she murmurs.

From the hatching sands, The web of cracks that has covered the Spiraling Blue Lightning Egg grows ever larger, and bits of shell begin to flake off at a rather rapid pace. There's a sharp *pop*, then a rain of shards, and sitting amongst them is a rather startled looking bronze.

Regal Leonine Bronze Hatchling

Broad of shoulder and already regal in bearing, this young bronze displays a truly magnificent figure wherever he goes. The promise of strength to come is written in every line, every curve of muscle as he moves. Bright copper, polished to a fine sheen, coats him from nose to tailtip, but he's far from uniform in color. Pale citrine marks the joints of his wings, as if the hide's stretched just a bit too thin, while 'sails carry striations of dappled green, viewed only when his wings are spread for flight. His legs and tail are streaked with twilight shades, hinting at shadows that aren't truly there, ending at sharp talons in a darkling hue reminiscent of his grandsire. Soft champagne, a color lent by his dam, highlights his face and marks him with the almost leonine aura of a courageous, noble, and loyal companion.

From the hatching sands, The Perfect Shades of Pink egg pops, sending a rain of shards everywhere, leaving a startled cerulean blue in its wake. Rather than looking for a lifemate at first, he seems content to sidle up to his dam and watch, but she sends him on his way. He finds his lifemate in a healer apprentice with eyes as blue as the dragon's hide. "Oh, Kiroth, you're here!"

Settled on Leiventh's foreleg for the additional height - and the comfort factor - R'hin's watching the hatching with fixed-face intensity, turning every now and then to gesture to anyone vaguely in earshot and remark, "Did you see -that-?" as if it could possibly be missed.

From the hatching sands, Aethe draws his attention back to the eggs, blinking slowly at sight of them moving....and a dragonet being led off the Sands already? Hey....there really _are_ dragons in those things! His eyes grow wide as the reality of the situation finally sinks in, thoroughly and irrevocably. Softly he mutters "Oh Shards."

From the hatching sands, Sabi's wide eyes are all that betray her awe - and probable apprehension and even fear as she moves into position on the sands with her fellow candidates. It is not the eggs which draw her immediate focus, but rather the galleries and the sea of faces there to observe the hatching of the eggs. It isn't until a blonde from Crom hisses towards the former Harper student that she'd best watch the eggs and the stray talon if she wants to still be able to gawk when the hatching is over that the girl returns her eyes to the eggs.

From the hatching sands, Pixellated Egg is emanating tappings with a certain cadence to them. Not exactly musical, more scientific in nature, as if the creature inside were testing its now fragile home for weaknesses. Tap, tap, tap...pause...tap, tap, tap...pause, an almost methodical examination of every part of the shell, till at last, just silence reigns in the air around it.

From the hatching sands, Sorren does her best to remain calm, as the bronze cracks shell, along with the blue and other eggs continue to rock. Calm, collective, and ready to dive out of the way at a second's notice. She starts to get cought up in the moment, watching dragons and life mates start to happen.

From the hatching sands, Iestyn swallows heavily, gripping his fellow candidate's hand, for her comfort, not his own. His other, damp palm, is brushed surrupticiously over his robe, leaving a little streak behind, dark eyes flicking back and forth as he attempts to take in everything that's going on at once, largely unsuccessfully.

Avrieth finds herself a perch, settling into a small space with a tidy sweep of her wings. Once she's touched down, Claret slides forward, trying to get a clear view to the sands. It doesn't work well, though, for the green wants to see too, and so she slides down with a thump, muttering. And for good measure, she sends a little wave to the others near.

From the hatching sands, A fine netting of cracks marks the Infinite Whirlwind Egg's shell, but it's a struggle for the occupant within to make a hole large enough to get out of. She's burly and broad of chest, the seafoam-hued green that finally makes an appearance, and not only is she big, she's also impatient. Shouldering a few of the candidates out of her way, she stakes her claim on a young boy from Telgar's inner caverns.

From the hatching sands, Ailani, though she doesn't voice R'dur's sentiments, has a vaguely ill look on her face, in spite of the Weyrwoman's reassurances. "No, love, they're beautiful, I just... yes, yes, the bronze is pretty - and that blue one was rather nice, too. I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

From the hatching sands, All movement from the Purple Rose Egg halts for a moment, then begins anew as the dragonet within becomes still more impatient. The shell splits neatly in half to reveal a dainty young green.

Dainty Dappled Green Hatchling

Delicate and dainty, this green is a perfect example of good breeding. Her delicate structure is accented by a lovely arched neck, defined headknobs, and sleek, sophisticated snout. A dappled green, like leaves on a forest floor, hides her true colors in a riot of shadows. Here and there, a mossy patch shows through the midnight, glittering and fleeting as a twitch of muscle, or movement of body, alters the image once more, leaving darkness in it's wake. Charming chartreuse highlights neckridges, mimicking sunlight through the forest. It falls dim across her belly, leaving her legs in shadows of earthy greens and emeralds.

From the hatching sands, Regal Leonine Bronze Hatchling lifts his head to regard his new surroundings, quiet dignity marking every movement as he settles himself just so. A glance is given back to dam and sire, then the birth-wet bronze steps forward, wings spread to catch more of the heat rising from the sands. Methodically, carefully, he starts toward the white-robed candidates.

"Oh! I like that green!" R'hin pronounces, eyes following the seaform-hued creature as she makes herself very known, and moments later, Impressed. He claps gloved hands together in barely restrained glee, taking Claret's vague wave as an indication to include her in his running commentary, "Did you see the way she shoved those candidates out of the way? Now there's a woman who knows what she wants. I admire that, especially in a dragon." Leiventh, perfectly still, simply lets out a faint rumble that could be agreement, but that could be disagreement as well.

From the hatching sands, R'dur, standing on his tiptoes to peer closer at the remaining eggs, does a rapid head count of those remaining as more dragons hatching. "Okay. Those are done, there's--oh, another--oh, dear." Instictively, he takes a step back as the bronze starts back, nevermind he's well out of range, hiding /behind/ the candidates.

From the hatching sands, "This way, now," Breena says, eyeing that newest green as she heads towards dragonet and new-made rider. "This way, come give her something to eat--yes, I know she's hungry. We've got food and oil this way." She's replaced by Therese, who waits on the next pair.

From the hatching sands, Aethe's infamous inability to keep his attention on the here and now seems to have been brushed aside for the moment as, for one of the few times in his life, he focuses entirely on what is going on around him....and on staying out of the way of pointy dragonet-bits. On some level, though, he's able to spare a moment to appreciate the beauty of some of the hatchlings, his heart in his throat in both fear and awe. To witness your first hatching from the Sands themselves!

From the hatching sands, Iestyn's feet shift underfoot, the heat of the sands already beginning to get to him. To his companion, he murmurs, "They all seem so..." words fail the Lemosian for a beat or two, dark eyes tracking the process of the newest green, "...so regal," he finally settles on, catching his lip with his teeth for a moment.

From the hatching sands, Dainty Dappled Green Hatchling blinks in the bright light then snorts. Find her feet at last, she rises and totters from her hatching place, stil blinking. Ever so slowly she makes her way to the half circle of candidates, her elegant head turning from side as she looks for her future lifemate.

From the hatching sands, Sabi recoils a bit as the bronze dragon approaches towards the candidates. Obviously not having previously taken R'dur's advice about the dangerousness of dragonets, she looks slightly fearful, keeping all her attention now on the circling dragonets.

From the hatching sands, Uralth and his rider are the picture of being calm, cool and collected, well maybe Z'nal isn't cool, he is standing on the hatching sands after all. Each newly arrived dragonet gets a grin and an exchange of looks between the Igen pair before their gazes return to the scene in front them. The brownrider does look Ailani's way, he's there in case she should want him for anything, but other than that, remains as he started.

From the hatching sands, Spilled Pinwheels Egg wiggle wiggle. It twitches slowly, a long undulation following that first impatient movement as the hatchling inside tests the limits of his confinement. For now, the egg holds, its shell not yet strained to splintering.

From the hatching sands, As soon as the Contrasting Feathers Egg smacks up against one of the few eggs that remain, the blue within pops out and squawks indignantly - as if it's the still egg's fault. He hurries away and frets over his choice between two blonde-haired, brown-eyed girls. Impression made, the Lemosian cries out, "Imbreth!"

From the hatching sands, Regal Leonine Bronze Hatchling continues that slow, overly cautious pace, pausing to inspect the hem of a young girl's robe. He sits back, looks up to peer into her face, then snorts and rather quickly moves along--clearly, someone didn't meet this young bronze's high standards. Impatience starts to creep in, as those steps become less measured and more uneven. Somewhere, there's a candidate out here for him, but where?

From the hatching sands, Sorren oohs at the sight of the dragons making their way, the little green sauntering slowly, and the bronze making his way. She shifts on the hot sands to stay out of their way. She seems to nod her head a bit to the /tappy tap/ sounds of the remaining unhatched eggs, keeping her head about her with the rythm, or lack of it.

From the hatching sands, Pixellated Egg begins to rock, side to side, forward to back, and then another pause before a flurry of energy sends it swirling on its axis, displacing the sand, that it had been nestling in, at a rapid rate. Suddenly it comes to a stop, perhaps the egg's occupant resting, or thinking, trying to put together the best means of escape.

From the hatching sands, Iestyn is clearly getting edgy, dancing back a little whenever a dragon comes near him. He's barely got enough time to keep an eye on one dragon, let alone several at once from all directions, and his brow furrows into a distinct line of worry, chewing his lower lip once again. The second his fellow candidate glances at him he offers a tentative smile, trying to appear at ease.

From the hatching sands, Dainty Dappled Green Hatchling wanders about the sands, her elegant head turning this way and that on her graceful neck. She goes up to one candidate, and after further inspection moves away, still searching for the perfect one. She contines her wandering, her strides become more graceful and self-assured with practice.

From the hatching sands, Sabi's usual wit - or lack there of - blazes on through even through the heat as a remark is murmured while her eyes follow the latest pairing off the sands, scorn and disdain written across her pretty face. At least her words are lost to the general noise of the cavern, else one might be set to wondering if her mother ever taught her to say nothing if something nice cannot be said. Her companion pays her no heed, but rather points towards one of the other hatchings moving about on the sands.

From the hatching sands, Regal Leonine Bronze Hatchling stops, causing one of his siblings to bump into him, and *that* prompts an apologetic, though distracted, rumble. There's something... Alert now, the rapidly swishing tail his only sign of impatience, he backtracks and studies one of those boys a bit more closely. Where... where... there! Here is the other half of his soul, his match, his love, and he gazes adoringly into his chosen one's dark brown eyes.

From the hatching sands, Aethe's eyes flick from bronze to green and back again, watchful....until he catches sight of the bronze rejecting one of the girls and can't help but smile as it strikes him funny. "No, lad" he mutters. "Clearly not your type." With urgency he suddenly realizes he's not been playing nearly close enough attention to the heat of the Sands seeping through the bottom of his shoes and hissing sharply starts in on the sole-saving shuffle most of the other Candidates started immediately on stepping out into the heat.

From the hatching sands, One of the 'flowers' falls away from the Blue Flowered Egg, allowing a multi-hued green her escape out into the big wide world. She glances back to dam and sire as if looking for affirmation, then she's on her way, and it's a young man from Half Circle Sea Hold she claims as her own.

From the hatching sands, Dark eyes, guileless if touched by a convoluted mixture of dampened fear and unnerved excitement, fixate onto a point on the sands. With physical movement that speaks of a punch to his gut, his abdomen caving inward and an unsteady waver of his knees, the young man exhales a word softly to himself, before another attempt is made almost immediately. Drawing strength from the inaudible, the mildness of E'tyn's voice rises over the choked muddle of emotions that contorts his expression. "Niereth," reflexively reaching to curve one hand over one of the bronze's headknobs, "Yes, yes you're right," he breathes, "Oh, yes. We can do food."

From the hatching sands, R'dur looks plainly relieved when that bronze finally makes his choice, relaxing slightly. "Oh, yes. One of ours," he murmurs in response to Alidaeth's mental remarks. "I knew, too." Then, catching sight of movement across the sands, he turns quickly again, frown returning as he watches the next hatchling warily.

From the hatching sands, Breena, back for her shift on the sands, is quick to head E'tyn's way once the bronze makes his choice, and she grins. "Ahh, young bronzerider, is it? I bet he's hungry. Come on this way, okay?"

From the hatching sands, K'ran lingers a narrow-eyed but ultimately approving gaze on Iestyn -- now E'tyn -- and that leonine bronze hatchling. "Huh," he simply says. "I think that'll work well."

From the hatching sands, Once all the initial shimmying and shaking has passed, the occupant within the Pixellated Egg quiets. When the assault renews, for those who observe closely enough to notice, it's methodical and precise, centered on a hole near the bottom of the shell. Once the hole is wide enough, out slides a bright blue hatchling, leaving his egg in pieces behind him.

Eccentric North Star Blue Hatchling

There is an undeniable brightness to the hues that accent the chiseled, angular features of this hatchling. Brushes of a glossy marine blue highlight not just the cheekbones and eyeridges but a squared jaw, an excessively long muzzle, and those rather prominent headknobs. The color fades in brilliance and blends into a more uniform blue as it drifts farther from those sources, with the trail of his neckridges getting the same treatment. Long and lean, from snout to whip thin tail, there is still a boxy quality to his frame, a squareness to the shape of his chest and his haunches that none the less fits him well enough to maintain a certain classic elegance to his appearance. As does the patterning of the irregular splotches of white on wingsails which darken to deep midnight, resembling when unfurled the distant stars in the night sky.

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

From the hatching sands, Sorren abrutly helps one of her fellow candidates scoot clear of a roaming dragonet, before smiling to see another impression. "Horray!" she says, though it is drowned out by the commotion around her. She and her fellow brush themselves off, having ducked out pretty low on that avoidance of pain.

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

From the hatching sands, Dainty Dappled Green Hatchling moves more purposefully, her head no longer looking from left to right but instead straight ahead. Finally she stops before one young woman and sits down, her whirling red eyes fixed adoringly on those of her new lifemate.

From the hatching sands, Sabi is no different than so many women who have impressed on these sands over the turns. She's reduced to a blubbering mess as the green dragonet comes to a stop before her, and its none too pretty. Not the elegant weeping of ladies, but a full out set of obnoxious sobs of joy, managing to get out a throaty, "Amalith!" before words are once again lost to her in favor of her runner-like brays that come with her inhales as she struggles to control her tears.

From the hatching sands, "Oh!" Ailani watches the bronze's impression and her smile grows wide. "How lovely for him - oh, and look, Sabi, too, to a green. Though, hmm... I'm not sure I'd have expected that."

From the hatching sands, Being so rudely smacked into has reminded the occupant of the Clashing Aurora Egg that something's going on! A furious assault from within allows the birth-wet green inside a way out. She lingers near her shell at first, crouched low, examining the candidates who remain. Moving forward, she stalks, then claims an older girl from Telgar Hold. "Yes, Drineth, let's get something to eat!"

From the hatching sands, K'ran's attention dances to Telgar's newest greenrider, and he can't hide a smile. "Breena's going to have to calm her down as much as the hatchling," he quips, in an aside, to Tarien.

From the hatching sands, There's no denying that the occupant of the Spilled Pinwheels Egg is excited to make an appearance - the thing doesn't stop moving, not even for a moment. Eventually, *finally*, enough of the shell flakes away to reveal a goo-streaked, ruddy brown hatchling.

Foppish Ladies' Man Brown Hatchling

Plain brown just won't cut it for this dragon. No, he's a gleaming ruddy chestnut color, the hue slathered richly across his slim build. Around his crown the shade lightens further; bright sunlight can bring out the brilliant carrot undertones on the top of his head. This gingery shade fades gradually as it works down his pointed muzzle and along his jaw, finally petering out in favor of the darker russet-brown shade that evenly dominates the rest of his smooth hide. Large, keen eyes are his best physical feature, the rest of his build not very remarkable. He's not an exceptionally large dragon, even just hatched; combined with his good proportions, his relatively smaller size gives him an ease of movement hardly characteristic of new-hatched dragons. It's a shame about all that slime, though: the gooey remnants of his egg's interior coat his hide all over and give it a rather greenish tinge. It's not attractive at all.

From the hatching sands, Aethe's vague smile remains as he watches Iestyn -- no, no, E'tyn! -- Impress, as well as his erstwhile friend Sabi. It's almost enough to distract him from his burning feet, really.

From the hatching sands, Breena has only just managed to get E'tyn safely escorted off the sands when there's yet another to be worrying about. "Ahh, Sabi, right? This way, please--come with me. Careful now, let's get her something to eat. And...get you a handkerchief."

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

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

From the hatching sands, Eccentric North Star Blue Hatchling is already on the move, and having rid himself of the last vestiges of his confinement, he's fully free to take in all that encompasses his world and beyond. His eyes become a whirl of red-orange, his natural curiosity and hunger being the driving force behind his propulsion. He doesn't miss anything, able to ascertain the who's and what's around him with a fiery glance and a flick of his tail, though these flicks, untried and untested, occasionally send him on paths he hadn't intended to go on, but he doesn't care, discovery, the accumulation of knowledge is the name of this game.

Claret makes her way up Avrieth's side, so that she might get a better view of the sands, adding her own reflective commentary to R'hin's. "They all seem to be in a great hurry or taking great care. Ooh." She goes up on tiptoes as the bronze finally makes his choice. "Good! He's nice," she explains charitably, then throwing a half-exasperated, half-affectionate glance back at her green. "I figure, a lady who knows her own mind and speaks it -all- the time is maybe less likeable. Ooh! Another. Tears. Hmm."

From the hatching sands, Sorren adds another cheer to her list, upon seeing Sabi and the other girl from Telgar impress. She appears to be relaxing in this environemnt, soaking in the cheer of the event and the happiness she sees going on around her, amidst dodging for cover among the barreling hatchlings.

From the hatching sands, Foppish Ladies' Man Brown Hatchling doesn't waste a moment of his time in the limelight; he stands at once, surprisingly easy on his feet, and cocks his head at an attractive angle. The brown hatchling's pride, however, is short-lived as he takes notice of the egg goo covering his poor hide. Bending his neck, he scrapes his snout along his side and only succeeds in smearing the mess around further and getting more sand stuck to his damp form. In anguish, he creels.

From the hatching sands, Tarien, eyeing the brown, bites back a smile. "Something tells me Breena's going to have her hands full with more than one of them," she comments to K'ran.

Leiventh> To you, Leiventh seems bemused. « He's so small. What competition could he be? »

R'hin leans forward, peering at the sands as if somehow that'd make him better able to hear. "Did you get that? Niereth? Good name," he says, approvingly, leaning back. "He might be competition," he adds, no doubt for the benefit of Leiventh, who lets out the faintest of snorts, peering after the tiny bronze before he disappears. "He'll grow up," the 'Reaches bronzerider adds, laughingly, before glancing at Claret with a grin. "Less likeable? Oh no, far from it. As long as it's in small doses, I don't much mind that at all," he murmurs, peering back just in time to catch Sabi's impression with a wry grin.

From the hatching sands, Eccentric North Star Blue Hatchling pauses now, explorations and any other considerations fading to shadow as one of those unplanned trails bring the candidates firmly into focus. His head cocks to one side slightly, as if he's thinking, how very interesting they are, how very different, definitely worth further consideration and deserving of his time. They're obviously here to attend to his brethren and himself, indeed, there seems to be one among them that stands above the rest, not that the others aren't worth assessing, for any information has its uses and is not to be discarded lightly. Deliberate steps mark his moving closer to the group as a whole and he now stands amongst their number, though his keen intellect seems to be focusing on one more than the others.

From the hatching sands, Aethe stands on one foot to let the other cool, absently falling into a rhythm of shifting from foot to foot as the heat penetrates the soles of his shoes. That's better -- one less distraction from the eggs and hatchlings. Curious blue and foppish brown get his attention in turn, his smile fading as amusement over that bronze fellow fades. He watches somberly, expression thoughtful and distant as he regains something of his usual detachment.

From the hatching sands, Soraeth rumbles her amusement at the latest of her progeny, and Ailani, too, allows a quiet chuckle. "Yes, he does remind me of someone," she murmurs, a quick look shot over her shoulder toward her large lifemate. "You!"

From the hatching sands, Foppish Ladies' Man Brown Hatchling leaves damp footprints in his wake as he finally starts dragging himself laboriously across the sands, near-pitiful in his lackluster state. Well, until he catches a flash of gold hide in the form of Mommy Soraeth. The little brown perks up at once, crooning a charming note to the elder dragon, until a nearby female candidate catches his eye. Then, he's off again, Soraeth forgotten as he preens over toward the candidates remaining.

From the hatching sands, Eccentric North Star Blue Hatchling had not made a sound up until this point, nor any extravagant movements, no doubt he felt no need to do so, a waste of time, energy and what have you. An outward display of internal emotions is warranted now though, because logically, he wants to make sure the one that is his match is aware of his presence. Its not a big display, for his human will know and recognize him for what he is, her lifemate and partner. A loud snort, a precisely delicate flipping of his wings and the meeting of similar gazes is all that's needed as the blue dragonet settles at the feet of *his* girl.

A grin spreads across Claret's features as she watches the foppish brown hatchling make his way across the sands. "-He's- going to be a handful for whoever he chooses. Competition for what?" She takes her eyes off the sands for a moment to slant a curious glance at the bronzerider. "Flights?" She gives her chin a little negative jerk, observing, "I don't know many opinionated people or dragons that give them over in small do--ooh!" She breaks off and claps her hands together enthusiastically. "Good job, Avrieth!"

From the hatching sands, Sorren eyes go wide, with an an audible "Bwa?" and a happy expression of /No!, you're kidding me!/. "You . .. you . ..well . . ." She bends down to eye level with the little blue that has chosen her, a total emcompassing serene look of wonder and contentment across her face. "We need to go this way (she points), together, now, Cronoth". Though a tear trickles down her face, Sorren's expression remains calm, and serene, like one who has seen a divinity. "Yes, I understand now, what they were tying to tell me. There is tryly no words . . . "

From the hatching sands, Breena, looking somewhat harried given the pace of some of these impressions, steps forward. "Indeed--this way now, Therese has food waiting for you. Congratulations--follow me, both of you."

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

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

From the hatching sands, K'ran tips his head to one side as his eyes follow the latest weyrling pair off the sands; amusement, perhaps born of nostalgia, continues to curve his lips. "I think I know that face Sorren's wearing. Jays, I think I *had* that face."

"Competition, for -anything-," the 'Reaches bronzerider counters, although given the low chuckle that follows, R'hin could simply be joking. A little pat is given to Leiventh's hide, though whether it's to assuage the bronze, or himself, isn't really clear. "Nice and fast," he approves, as another pair is made, pale eyes following them off the sands. Head tips in Claret's direction, eyes going towards her green, "One of yours?" he queries, then without waiting for the response, "Nice job."

From the hatching sands, Aethe folds his hands behind his back, shifting to the other foot as he contemplates the handsome blue and his new lifemate. Seemed an admirably curious fellow, that blue. He has to fight letting his mind wander off to consider whether or not draconic intelligence is all that very different from human and what qualities might differentiate the two and.....no. Sands. Hatching. Dragonets with pointy bits. Think later.

From the hatching sands, Foppish Ladies' Man Brown Hatchling eyes the candidates nearest him warily, moving to one and giving her a fawning glance. Then, the next attracts his attention and he moves on, giving that boy a look as well. Indecisive, he moves onward, down the line, until he finds himself in front of one boy in particular. He gives that person the same adoring look and then lifts a slimy leg to take another step. Then, rethinking, he puts his paw back down and stills, giving this one his full attention.

From the hatching sands, Z'nal comes down from the galleries. From the hatching sands, Z'nal has arrived.

From the hatching sands, Tarien, her smile gentle and her eyes dragon-distanced, murmurs, "I think we all had that look. I've only ever had something like it once or twice since, and even then, nothing comes close."

From the hatching sands, Aethe pulls his attention back to the task at hand only to find himself nose to nose with that brown dragonet. Slowly the lad's eyes widen a little and just as slowly, he blinks, expression thoughtful as if weighing matters he'd never before considered. "It's a deal" he says slowly, smiling just a little -- if he's shaken, he's doing an admirable job of hiding it. A'red reaches a hand for the lovely brown snout in front of him, brushing aside some of the muck. "Aye, Kaurinth, it's a deal."

From the hatching sands, Ailani rests a hand on Soraeth's flank. "Look," she says, unnecessarily, "I think the brown chose, too. Oh! Oh, he's the last, isn't he?" Her expression turns solemn as she ponders first the scattered shards on the sands, then those who remain.

From the hatching sands, R'dur sags with relief when the last hatchling impresses without a hitch, looking mighty relieved. This moment lasts until he glances around again, taking in the few candidates remaining. He winces visibily as he studies them, glancing at his feet.

From the hatching sands, Breena, freshly back from escorting Sorren, comes in just in time to catch Aethe--now A'red. "Ah! Congratulations, brownrider--come this way, we'll get him something to eat."

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

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

From the hatching sands, Breena, with one last quick glance around the sands, follows A'red and Kaurinth to the barracks, but not without flashing a quick grin Ailani's way.

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

"Well," Claret observes a bit smugly, though her mouth quirks in amusement. "Telgar bronzes do have something of a reputation in flights." Her eyebrows rises at the brown's choice, and the corner of her mouth just tilts further. "Interesting! Is that the last, then?" She leans forward, making sure there aren't any hidden eggs. "Yup, one of ours," she confirms, slinging an arm over Avrieth's shoulder. "We thought she was dying, but it turned out all right. I'm Claret, by the way."

From the hatching sands, As the last of the new weyrling pairs are ushered off the sands, Tarien and K'ran step forward to address those candidates left standing. The speech is practiced, but not easy: they explain that Impression is never a sure thing, but that merely being Searched is an indication that the dragons sensed something in these candidates; they welcome the candidates to stay at Telgar for as long as they like; and then they invite them to a good meal in the Living Cavern. This done, and the sands cleared but for egg shards, they begin heading out themselves.

From the hatching sands, Once the Weyrleaders have spoken, Ailani turns to Z'nal with a faint smile on her face. "Thanks for everything - come by and see us sometime, won't you? I'm going to go let Soraeth get something to eat, I know she's famished."

From the hatching sands, R'dur lingers, watching the dejected faces of the leftover candidates. He catches a couple as they exit, sharing quiet words with them as they slip off the sands together.

"Do they now?" R'hin's head tips in Claret's direction, studying the Telgarian greenrider openly, lips pursed briefly in thought. "I think we could give them a run for their money. Given the opportunity." Again, that hint of laughter lingers in his low voice, hand waving briefly as if largely dismissing her claims. Her words draw his attention back to the sands to view the last impressions with a nod, before he glances back, "A pleasure, Claret. R'hin, and Leiventh. The 'Reaches duties to Telgar, and it's newest weyrlings," the slightly more polite words come out just as smoothly, as he slides from his perch on Leiventh's foreleg to the ground.

From the hatching sands, Z'nal gives Uralth a final pat, he and the brown gazing at one another for a moment before their gazes turn elsewhere. In the case of the dragon, the brown rumbles softly at Soraeth, then turns his attention to what's left of the clutch on the sands. The latter shoots a smile Ailani's way and replies with, "sure thing and take care." He regards her for just a heartbeat then looks up into the stands, apparently seeking someone in particular.

From the hatching sands, R'dur walks over towards the galleries. From the hatching sands, R'dur has left.

From the hatching sands, "You did wonderfully," Tarien assures Ailani, with a warm smile and a nod for the young goldrider. "They're all lovely. Come see me tomorrow, we'll talk." Then, a polite nod for the clutchsire, a smile over her shoulder for K'ran, and she's headed off toward the galleries.

From the hatching sands, Tarien walks over towards the galleries. From the hatching sands, Tarien has left.

From the hatching sands, Z'nal walks over towards the galleries. From the hatching sands, Z'nal has left.

From the hatching sands, Ailani walks over towards the galleries. From the hatching sands, Ailani has left.

"Mhmm," Claret asserts, dipping her chin in a nod. "Or at least, they used to. One of my clutchmates, he's Weyrleader at Ista, now. Most notably. Although, I could do with them all staying here. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with dragons from Reaches," she allows generously, giving Leiventh a nod. She steps away from her green, hand trailing along her hide. "Nice to meet you and all that. Going to the feast thing?"

Talurith flies towards the bowl. Talurith has left.

"I appreciate that vote of confidence," R'hin remarks, wryly amused. A glance is given to Leiventh, almost like he's consulting with the bronze. "We may," he hedges, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Claret," he adds with a quirked smile offered the greenrider's way. "It's nice to see Telgar's hospitality is not lacking."

M'wen has been over at the edge, both him and Maxeoth leaning out to get a good view of the action, a glazed expression on his face. Noticing that the hatching is over, he turns to Claret and R'hin. With a nod of greeting to Claret, "High Reaches duties to...umm...Telgar?" He remembers hearing that from R'hin, so he sticks with it. "That was quite the hatching wasn't it? Not quite as long as ours though.." The last part directed at R'hin.

Claret nods cheerily. "You're welcome. I shouldn't like to say anything dreadfully insulting about anyone's dragon, or dragons in general, although I might. You never know. I'm sure Leiventh is just as super as any." She wrinkles her nose as she eyes Avrieth's straps, remarking, "Wish I could go spy on the weyrlings instead of going and eating. The line will be dreadful."

"I guess Telgar's dragons -are- faster," R'hin notes, laughingly, at M'wen's observation. Claret's comments earns a twitch of lips. "Perhaps you should, Claret of Telgar. As I said, I can appreciate blunt honesty once in a while, and I'm always very interested in other's opinions." He does seem in earnest, if the expectant way in which he studies the greenrider is any indicator. "Mm. M'wen, should we stay for the feast, do you think?" he directs towards his fellow 'Reachian.

"Ooh, sorry," Claret says contritely, swinging her gaze over the other rider, belatedly. "I'm Claret. If you didn't hear before, that is. Who're you? And yes, you're at Telgar," she informs him helpfully. "It would be a bit difficult to get here if you didn't know where here was, right?" An interested gaze then slides towards R'hin. "Would you like to be insulted? I mean, I haven't much to work with, but I'm sure I could oblige. I'm always honest. Usually."

Realizing he may have interrupted the conversation quite rudely, he grins sheepishly at Claret, "Oh sorry about that, I'm M'wen, Brown Maxeoth's of the 'Reaches." He looks back to the sands in thought, "Sure we can go to the feast for a bit as long as nobody complains..."

"Actually, ordinarily I don't really need to -encourage- people to insult me. They do so of their own violition." R'hin spreads his hands briefly, "Not that I particularly wish you to. I'm just leaving that offer open for down the track, I'm sure it'll be appreciated then." Nodding agreeably towards M'wen, he says, "Why would they? Everyone came to our hatching feast. It's only right and fair that we return the favor." With a pat to Leiventh's hide, he moves around the bronze, hooking fingers through the D-ring of the straps as if about to mount, pausing to glance at the other two in silent invitation.

"Well!" Claret replies, giving the brownrider a bright smile. "Nice to meet you. No one's going to complain. Well, maybe someone ornery will, but you needn't listen to them." She fingers Avrieth's straps, wrapping her fingers around them. "Are you a particularly dreadful person? Or really obnoxious? I don't usually notice when people are obnoxious, but I'll remember to say something rude if I can." Offering thus generously, she clambers up Avrieth's side, evidently ready to join the feasting.

M'wen lets out a full throated laugh at R'hin's first comment, then tries...and fails to disguise it as a cough. Nodding at the silent invitation to go down to the feast, he jumps up on the browns back, who finally has stopped looking at the hatching sands. All he says about Claret's guesses is, "You'll see."

M'wen jumps up onto Maxeoth's back, as the dragon warbles a greeting. M'wen has left.

R'hin winks towards M'wen, and follows the pair in mounting up.

You hop up onto Leiventh's back, using his straps as handholds.