Logs:Of Potential Violence
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| RL Date: 30 January, 2007 |
| Who: Anastassja, B'yan, Caitlyn, Charis, Cynara, E'tyn, Flannery, Jenufa, Kylia, Llany, M'yr, R'hin, R'layn, R'tran, Rohana, S'dar, Satiet, Seliene, St'vren, T'rien, Tavrie, Tegara, Trace, Zahava |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Ista Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 28, Month 9, Turn 10 (Interval 10) |
| You climb some stairs into the galleries. Hatching Galleries -- Ista Weyr(#1300RJQqs) The galleries provide more than adequate seating for guests who have been invited to watch a hatching. There are ten tiers, that arch in a semi-circle from the southwest to west side of the black stone cavern. Stairs lead down to the entrances, which are visible beyond the large gaping opening leading to the Senior Queen's Weyr. You have a view of the Hatching Sands as well as a clear view of the ledges up above you. The people here are Satiet, B'yan, Seliene, Llany, Rohana, Kylia, R'layn, Tegara, and Tavrie. Stairs to the southwest lead out of the hatching grounds. Please type '+viewhelp' to see information on checking out the clutch. The people here are Satiet, B'yan, Seliene, Llany, Rohana, Kylia, R'layn, Tegara, and Tavrie. Obvious exits: Main Entrance Sands Rohana climbs the steps, barely out of breath as her Harper training has taught her to breathe properly. Green Bella perches one one shoulder, surveying the crowd, while her brown offspring Sirocco sleeps in the crook of Rohana's arm. The Harper apprentice looks about for a seat; there aren't many left as the galleries are rapidly filling. Llany is sitting right up front, prime spot, advantage of being a resident. But she does spy the lead pair from the reaches and offers them the seats next to her. Llany beckons to the Apprentice harper to join her on her other side. Rohana sees Llany and her beckoning, and grins. "Hi Llany! Oh, thanks! Through the colorful clothing of the spectators in the galleries, the High Reaches Weyrleader cuts a dark figure in his black and dark-blue clothing. R'hin's arm is crooked in order to escort the dark haired woman at his side, Satiet surveying the crowd as the pair seek an empty seat within the galleries. From the sands, V'lano emerges from the tunnel leading to the Weyrwoman's Weyr. From the sands, Griere emerges from the tunnel leading to the Weyrwoman's Weyr. From the sands, The Istan Weyrwoman and her weyrleader appear from the tunnel that leads down from their weyrs - fashionably late? They pause just inside the hatching cavern and V'lano tips down his head to remark something near Griere's ear. She glances at him - reproach? affection? - then departs his arm to approach her queen. V'lano, for his part, saunters out onto the sand, a scoping glance seeking up into the stands for the clusters of people already forming there. A satisfied nod conveys his approval and in a moment he approaches his weyrwoman again, she and the dragons both awaiting, humming, their latest hatchlings' arrival. Zahava climbs up some stairs into the seats. Zahava has arrived. R'layn climbs the stair to the ledges. R'layn has left. Tegara's been bouncing up and down like a pogo stick, dashing up the stairs and back down again before finding a seat near R'layn. "I always get so nervous at thest things," she confessess. "But 'tain't like I've never seen one before." She pops up again as she recognizes the the two Harpers. R'layn enters from the stairs that lead up to the ledges. R'layn has arrived. Kylia half-stands, just barely risng from the seat to give R'hin and Satiet, as well as Tavrie a nod of greeting. A few others get little waves and grins as well as the seats begin to fill. Tavrie, a tiny little shadow compared to her companions, trails along behind R'hin and Satiet with a look of giddy excitement on her face. The cheerful young woman wanders along dreamily and settles in close to Satiet. B'yan slips in among the groups of people filing, sticking towards the back of the stands. In his full riding leathers, the Reachian bronzerider seems to be keeping as inconspicuous as possible, hazel eyes flicking to various people near him before they settle resolutely on the sands beyond. Llany smiles, "Welcome to Ista Hana, have a seat I'll bet half a mark on that medium sized one over there with the purple speckles hatches first and hatches a blue." From the sands, Balinne walks onto the sands from the entrance to the Hatching Grounds. From the sands, K'ylon walks onto the sands from the entrance to the Hatching Grounds. T'rien enters from the stairs that lead up to the ledges. T'rien has arrived. Dressed in pale swirls of lavender and rose, Satiet glides in R'hin's arm. Notably absent are signs of riding gear: her jacket, helmet, and gloves perhaps tucked elsewhere, and surprisingly enough no boots as well as a pair of gather slippers assist her in her fluid path. Her head ducks close to the Reaches' Weyrleader, low words murmur and then a crooked smile, wry as her gaze casts about the galleries. She doesn't seem to pay much mind to the shadow that follows her, though after she's seated, does she spare Tavrie a sharply appraising look. "We'll need to visit the weavers sooner rather than later." T'rien races up the stairs, shrugging out of his riding jacket as he goes. He nearly trips himself up in the process, but manages to skid to a halt just in front of Zahava with a wide grin. "Made it!" Satiet whispers "And your bets on how many come off the sands scathed? Or would unscathed be a smaller number, sir?" Rohana plops into the offered seat next to her fellow Harper, cuddling Sirocco into her lap. Bella meeps a greeting to Llany, and icily glares at a nearby blue perched on another spectators shoulder. "You really think so?" She murmurs to Llany. "This is so exciting! The only other Hatching I've been to was the Igen one I stood for three Turns ago..." Cynara enters from the stairs that lead up to the ledges. Cynara has arrived. M'wen climbs up some stairs into the seats. M'wen has arrived. Trace climbs up some stairs into the seats. Trace has arrived. R'tran climbs up some stairs into the seats. R'tran has arrived. R'tran waves and offers duties to all, then quietly watches. Cynara comes down from the ledges, carefully...mostly because she is carrying her daughter, who is starting to get too big for *her* to carry. Of course, the kid may well still weigh less than a firestone sack. She moves to claim a seat fairly near the front, setting Terlara down. "And remember. *No* trying to get out onto the Sands." Llany grins, "I dunno but I've seen lotsa Ista's hatchings so I think it's a good guess." R'hin catches the nod of the Istan goldrider, returning it in kind with the faintest quirk of lips after pale eyes flick to Kylia's knot. A low throated laugh bubbles up at Satiet's quiet murmur, head tipping, considering, as his quiet response is given after they've seated themselves. He leans forward to look at Tavrie, reassuring smile given - though how reassuring it is from -him- is another matter entirely. Rohana chuckles. "Then I should have spoken to you prior to the day and wagered a few marks on it." You whisper "I would be surprised if less than a handful endured without an Istan claw to mark them tonight, Weyrwoman." to Satiet. Trace is here, yep, whether he wants to be or not. Well, he'd rather not be really...but they pulled him off his punishment to assign him to help a nanny watch even younger weyrbrats then he. So...despite the fact he'd rather be scrubbing pots, he's stuck here, occasionally chasing after a kid who tries to run away from the nanny, but other then that simply...there. From the sands, Kamia comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands. Seliene takes her seat quickly, scanning the crowd and the sands. As T'rien bumbles his way up the steps, she rolls her eyes skyward and lifts a hand in a wave toward him. [Candidates arrive.] R'layn settles down to watch quietly. He's being good, see? He can't help a chair when Kaelana emerges onto the sands though, but soon enough he's fallen silent in eager anticipation. Caitlyn climbs up some stairs into the seats. Caitlyn has arrived. From the sands, The candidates shift uneasily on the hot sands, eventually being herded into a loose semi-circle around the eggs. Nolee waves her arms around, leading them in a quick respectful bow to the clutchparents before the blonde scoots over to the edge of the sands. From the sands, Volath's eyes whirl a little speedily and he angles his snout around his mate to get a glimpse of the doorway through which he's accustomed to the white-robed humans appearing. His eggs are shaking: Where are the candidates? Their arrival earns from him a long, pleasant whuff of satisfaction, after which he draws new breath for more humming. "There we are," V'lano says, more simply, watching his weyrmate with the mother queen. Anastassja climbs up some stairs into the seats. Anastassja has arrived. From the sands, Aerianth flutters her wingtips, hardly a small motion for such large pinions. Her hum grows stronger, excited to see the herd of candidates arrive, watching them without the usual wary reservation. From the sands, Balinne tip-toes her way on to the Sands, looking a little sweaty. She finds a comfortable spot near the Weyrleaders, and turns a wary eye towards the clutch. "Just be ready to grab 'em when they Impress," she mutters to K'ylon. She scans the arriving candidates, smiling for a few, shaking her head for another, and then nearly doubles over. "Madge?" she all but yelps, her face suddenly expressionless. Anastassja smiles amiably as she takes her place in the stands. A beat later, her pale eyes lingering long on Tavrie's shoes and then sliding to her own, Satiet tosses her hair back slightly catching R'hin's lip quirk and following the look towards Kylia. "High Reaches' duties," extends the goldrider in greeting, her low-pitched alto clear. "Long time no see." Greetings aside, the slight woman tips her head back to her Weyrleader, "We shall see, but I know better than to bet you on that. Oppressive," she notes, shrugging the delicate folds that drape over her shoulders. From the sands, K'ylon nods solemnly to Balinne, "Aye." He, too, scans the faces of the gathered candidates. "Wonder which will be ours." Cynara glances out at the sands, Terlara fidgeting, "When hatch, mommy?" is all the near three Turn old can manage. Cynara smiles. "Soon." "Want dwagon," the kid supplies, getting a bit of a laugh from her mother. E'tyn climbs up some stairs into the seats. E'tyn has arrived. Zahava smoothes the skirt of her dress absently, as she turns towards T'rien, liftin her hand to wave to him. She catches sight of V'lano out of the corner of her eye, and gives Ista's Weyrleader a polite nod in greeting. From the sands, "Oh, you nay knew either?" Fadra says dryly as she moves closer to Balinne and K'ylon, taking up post there and crossing her arms. "Well, at least I know 'twas nay some underhanded trick. Aye, that's Madge. I nay know where she got permission, but there she is. Splendid." From the sands, Overstuffed Wardrobe Egg quivers, its lumpen surface expanding in rhythmic contractions. A sudden crack along one edge of its sandy-brown patch, and then a tail-tip shoves through with brute force, quickly followed by two short forelegs on the opposite side. Out splays the compact, well-muscled form of an ochre-toned brown. Red eyes whirl speedily as he claims his feet, which then conduct him along with surprising steadiness as he immediately makes his rounds of the white-robed candidates. The brown seems to stare fixedly into many of the candidate's faces, and one very foolish, very daring teen steps out of the semi-circle, and promptly gets trampled as the brown rushes over him, in favor of the short, shy young girl hiding just behind him. Ista's off to a running start with young Pressa calling out, "Um... Dorsoth's hungry!" Flannery enters from the stairs that lead up to the ledges. Flannery has arrived. Flannery quietly takes a seat beside R'tran, squeezing his shoulder maternally. From the sands, Balinne grits her teeth, still a little hard to read, expression wise. "Oh, I have a sneaking suspicion I know who." But then she's quiet, just watching. From the sands, "Then she must have managed the whole sevenday," remarks V'lano, casting a sidelong glance at the weyrling team, one brow arched and quirking twitchingly. "Dry. May I assume as much?" From the sands, Tolemic gasps a bit as the heat hits in a wave. "Shells!" The halt in momentum is only temporary, for he winces, lifting his feet up higher, and moves over to join Niklo. "That was fast - Niklo, d'd you see that brown?" From the sands, Illatus steps onto the sands with the other candidates and follows the bow of the junior queen riders, then moves along with his fellows to stand around the cluster of eggs, his face grimacing at the heat of the sands. He looks rather pale, quite understandable in the situation really. He's shocked at the speed of the first impression, barely blinking as the girl impressed to a brown. He glances to his friends. "Wow." Jenufa climbs up some stairs into the seats. Jenufa has arrived. From the sands, Kamia shifts on the sand, startled, eyes wide as she watches the first impression, the scariness of it all starting to finally sink in. Silence is what marks B'yan as he leaves the seats to those present. He has a lazy lean against the wall now as the candidates start to fill out, a brief narrow of his eyes as he lights on perhaps one of them. There's a curl of lips, then he steps forward to slip pass a few to get a better look. From the sands, Amira sidles along the semi-circle toward Kaelana. Her breathing is shallow and her face is pale as she keeps her eyes on the eggs that will decide her fate. "It seems like there's so many more from down here," she says nervously to Kaelana, wringing her hands. From the sands, Fadra's fine dark eyebrow arches at V'lano, even as she gestures B'ryce away to collect thier first weyrling. "She'll be dry a fine time longer'n a sevenday, if'n she comes out o'this with a dragon," Fadra says. "I hope someone warned her." Jenufa climbs the stairs stiffly, not as young as she used to be. She smiles and nods greetings to various before seating herself to view the proceedings. Caitlyn takes a seat in the back, as she's unfortunately a bit later than she wanted to be. Drat those dirty clothes she had to change! From the sands, Nolee claps her hands together as the first dragonet emerges and claims a lifemate right away. "Jays!" she hollers. "Remember to watch out, beware, mind the claws, all of those things and--oh dear. Healers already? Is that trampled one all right?" From the sands, Niklo wanders out between Tolemic and Tzivya, as if surrounding herself with older candidates for security. Or something. But at all the excitement she just shrugs. "Yeah," she grins slightly at Mic, "'Nother hatchin', more babies." E'tyn's strides are long, crossing two steps at a time in his ascent to the galleries. Bovinish eyes skip across the crowd and in the end, fails to recognize many a face which turns his cheeks sheepish and subdued as he finds a seat near the sole familiar face, R'hin. From the sands, Tannim starts to shift from foot to foot almost immediately, his eyes go wide as the brown breaks from his prison egg and quickly finds his lifemate. He smiles at Kamia, "Are the all that fast?" From the sands, Madge is a new development and she certainly looks the part. Tugging on the hem of her robe and shifting in sandals that don't fit as well as they could, she casts wary, nervous glances this way and that and stands apart from the other candidates. Should anyone give her any looks and she catches it? She'll be giving them very /what/? looks in return. From the sands, K'ylon is uncertain what Balinne and Fadra and V'lano speak of. Instead, his attention wanders to more familiar faces on the sands. He's doing a little skip-hop himself. Nervous. From the sands, Tzivya gives Fadra another cold look, though it briefly turns sad before she turns away and moves with the candidates. She settles into the semi-circle, and smile to the first Weyrling pair. She settles in next to Niklo, grinning to her friend. "No, some take a lot longer. It all depends, y'know?" She glances to Madge. "Madge!" She calls to her. "Come stand with us, hey?" From the sands, V'lano, attending mostly to Fadra's words, does nothing more than lift a slender, tanned hand to shield the side of his face, as if by so doing he might deny the Istan tradition - or whatever it is that causes candidates to get bloodied on these sands. "I warned her," he notes, droll. From the sands, Red Velvet Swag Eggshudders once, and then a series of brief, but intense heaves shake the ovoid, as it refuses to be silenced. Back and forth along its long axis it rocks, disturbing the fine, black Istan Sands it's mounded upon. A sudden pitch sends it careening over the lip of its home, reeling and spinning like a drunken sailor, until gravity brings it to rest far from where it once sat. A teeter-totter game ensues, this time rolling the egg along its shorter sides. And then, with a giant shudder, it comes to rest...a hairline crack tearing a jagged line across stately, scarlet draperies. From the sands, Tolemic boucnes a little on his tows, sweat flying already as he shakes out his hands and arms. "These are sure different from down here than up there, huh?" he asks Nik, nodding toward the Stands. As if cued, he stops paying attention to the eggs and even the hot sands to scan the galleries. From the sands, Kaelana gives a faint wince from the heat of the sands, fitting in near the edge of the semi circle. The comment from Amira gets a twist of her heard and a hike of her robe, as she replies, "Not to worried about that, thoguh they could've at least made it a bit cooler in here." She gives the sands a small kick, wincing as some lodges in under her sandel. R'hin leans back once more, a hand stretching out along the back of the seat behind Satiet, anticipatory glint to his eyes as they trail towards the sands to watch the candidates emerge. The first Impression, quick as it is, is nearly missed, the 'Reachian exhaling low at the poor lad who's trampled. "Mm," is his pointed murmur, twist of lips a mingling of sympathy and smugness. Movement from the corner of his eye catches the arrival of the Telgarian Weyrleader, R'hin straightening and offering a pointed nod as he catches the man's gaze. "Weyrleader," his low greeting comes soon after, attention straying from the sands. From the sands, Balinne is trying very hard not to bore holes into Madge's skull - can she feel the heat? "At least it's going quickly," she mutteres towards K'ylon, her own feet still. Jenufa aaahs at the egg's motion, leaning forward in her seat and murmuring, "Now /that's/ exciting!" From the sands, Kamia shakes her head up at Tannim, shaking a bit now. "No, not all of them will..." She mentions timidly, her eyes darting to Tzivya's egg to see what happens. From the sands, Illatus looks over at Madge, slightly shocked to see her there before his attention turns back to the eggs. He shuffles his feet in the heat, then looks over towards Niklo, the only other candidate near his own age. "You allright, Nik?" he asks quietly of her, before quickly looking back to the eggs. Seliene lifts a hand and waves toward Tolemic as he lifts his face toward the galleries. "Here, Mic!" From the sands, Fadra looks positively thrilled. "And we're starting off well, too. Lookit that, healers already." Something suggests that maybe it's not /all/ sarcasm in Fadra's voice, but she crosses her arms and considers the goings on. "Though, I imagine we can find her smashed later this eve, if'n she /doesn't/ end up with a dragon. Who knows." Kylia's lips slide into an easy smile at Satiet's greeting and she dips a bit of a nod. "Indeed," is all she can offer before eggs are shattering and the first Impression is made. As such it takes catching R'hin's greeting to E'tyn to draw her attention. "Ista's duties, Weyrleader," she offers to him with a smile and nod before turning her focus back to the sands. From the sands, Niklo gives in a little there, nodding. "Yeah..." she says at last, "Guess it is pretty different, eh?" The young candidate bites her lip at Illatus's question, takes a deep (and perhaps a little shuddery) breath, then nods. "Yeah." Pause. "Yeah! I'm fine." A grin. From the sands, From the Rafters Egg gives a little wiggle, barely enough to get noticed. Did it move? Maybe it was just a shadow, for now it remains perfectly still upon the dark Istan sands. From the sands, Madge's reaction to Tzivya's beckoning is met with hesitance. Er. But, after weighing the odds and having seen a bit of a trampling already she decides the odds are in her favor the more people she has around her. So, with little sidesteps that mince and skip she shuffles over to the other candidates and balls her hands around her robe. A grunt of a greeting is all they get. Tavrie glances at R'hin from around Satiet, brows lifting in an unasked question and a small pout of her lips to show she doesn't entirely appreciate his attempted comforting nor presence. Shifting her attention to the hatching sands, she scoots to the edge of her seat and smiles warmly, looking as if she might be remembering how it felt to be out there. From the sands, Amira nods, shuffling her feet because of the heat and nervousness. She keeps her hands clasped together to keep their shaking down. Her eyes dart quickly over each egg that moves. From the sands, K'ylon murmurs to Fadra, "Aye, and it's a normal enough reaction." Still he guesses something else is at play, and sets to watching this unexpected candidate just a little bit harder. Terlara squeaks at the trampling and the healers and clings to her mother, who slips an arm around the little girl, murmuring something to her. Nearby, Cynara's green firelizard has added her little voice to the dragons'. Hummmmmmmmmmm. Seated by R'hin with Tavrie close by, Satiet stirs so that the arm about her back is leaned into, which then allows her to make note of the repartee between the Reachian bronzerider and the Telgari. "Reaches duties to Telgar. I'm surprised that Daelyth would let Niereth out of her sight," she remarks, ignoring the first Impression and the ensuing rock and roll of eggs. From the sands, Tannim smiles the newly arrived candidate not having seen her before. he gives a varied look towards Tzivya but his attention is soon caught back up in the eggs and all that is going on before him. One noticible change though from when he walked is is he is no longer shaking. From the sands, "Well, would you have done any better?" V'lano arches the other brow at Fadra now, which makes the twitching constitute waggling, and after a last long glance of his dark merry eyes he crosses his arms and turns to the scene, attentive to hatchlings and candidates. Caitlyn peers around for familiar faces, and finds alot of them down there on the Sands. Her skirt is fluttered nerviously through hands. From the sands, Stage Fright Egg lies in quietly, barely giving the occasional tremble. It draws worried looks from many, and speculation that it will not hatch successfully. And then those apprehensions are allayed as, without fanfare, the shell pops and out flows the form of an ultramarine blue, like a seamonster emerging from the waves. Forward he moves, towards those white robes, his movements hypnotic, graceful. Unlike some of his brethren, this particular hatchling seems to know early on who will fit him perfectly - and exactly where they are. A soft snort, and he nearly scampers up to a rail-thin, tall young woman who wears sorrow on her face like a mask. A sudden gasp from her, and she falls to her knees, tears trailing off her chin, spattering onto the upturned muzzle of her lifemate. Some of the sheepishness that's marked E'tyn's cheeks in a nice rosy shade dissipate at the greeting and in kind, the young Weyrleader tips his head to R'hin. "Likewise," he returns, less formally with a smile that hovers the line between friendly and uncertain. Suspicious too maybe, though that flies away when he turns to nod to the two women nearer. More affably, he calls over to Kylia, "And ours in return," but does lower his voice to address Satiet's concern with a quirk of his lips. "Ah. Daelyth doesn't hover with the maternal broodiness of many of her color. Weyrwomen." The latter, a distinct plural, includes Tavrie with a quick, hesitating smile. From the sands, Illatus smiles and nods to Niklo, but keeping his attention on the eggs. He lifts his eyes for a moment to glance over the galleries, searching for any familiar face, before lowering his eyes back to the eggs with a slightly dissapointed expression and catching the impression of a blue, clapping and shouting his congratulations. From the sands, Tzivya gives Niklo's hand a squeeze and the girl a shaky grin. "Not so bad, see? Can barely tell there's a thousand people watching our every move!" She looks to the girl on her other side. "Not met you properly. I'm Tzivya, Balinne's niece!" Rohana gasps as the first egg hatches. "You were right! A blue!" She can't help but grab Llany's arm. From the sands, Tolemic leaves off studying the stands to look sidelong at Madge. "Hey," he offers with more than a touch of confusion when she joins them. Then a flash of blue catches his attention, but by the time he's whipped around to look, Impression's already taken place. Anastassja applauds the blue's Impression, nudging R'tran gently in the ribs. "Well done, lad! Excellent choice!" she hollers. Llany grins, "Yay! Pay up." she teases. From the sands, Kamia starts to get even more nervous now that none of her closer friends have impressed, and she looks at the other Candidates worriedly, 2 eggs down... only so many more to go. From the sands, Nolee watches the Stage fright egg, her hands up over her mouth as she stares, sighing relief as the shell breaks open. "Oooh, that one's very pretty. That's right," she helps, pointing wildly at the pair to follow a member of the Weyrlingmaster's team off the sands. "Food's that-a-way." From the sands, Rocking heavily, the striated curves of the Red Velvet Swag Egg heave and ripple, much as its dam's belly once did in laying it. One fissure, then two, spread longitudinally over its surface, quickly webbing into an intricate maze along its western face. As more cracks force their way deeply through the shell, a goo-encased head shoves partially outward, punching viscerally against its confinement, seeking to win free. And suddenly, there is an explosion of shards that litter the black sands with memories of a none-too-comfy prison - and in their wake, a long, tall wilderness of green hatchling struggles to her feet, tossing back her wobbling, shell-crowned head, and giving a stuttered trumpet to announce her arrival. From the sands, Stately Forest Green A variety of forest hues drench the bright hide of this tall, long hatchling, a progression of verdancy from new leaves to rich viridian to darkest olive green. Her legs are strong but subtly so, tipped with darker paws and dangerous, sturdy talons. Possessed of a taut, streamlined body, ready muscles in her haunches and back hint at strength not entirely evident in her generally sleek shape. A lithe and frisky tail balances perfectly a willowy neck and sensitive muzzle, all held just so. Lofty sails of translucent pine descend from darker, thickset spars sprinkled with a dusting of fey silver. Elongated, argent headknobs, paler at their peaks, lend her head a sense of length, while lustrous and subtle eyeridges lend expression to large, intense eyes below. She holds herself with a regal poise and a controlled demeanor, all self-certainty and lightweight confidence.
Trace remains towards the top/back of the galleries, helping watching the younger weyrbrats. As Impressions begin, Trace, unlike most, turns to look away as he seems not the slightest interested in what most consider a joyous occasion on the sands. Slowly, Terlara detaches herself, "Gween," she pronounces, Cynara glances over the rest of the crowd, and then. "Oh, *that* one is going to be a looker when she grows up." Rohana giggles, either from nervousness or happiness or both. "Aye, I'd gladly pay had I the marks. Well picked, Llany." From the sands, Balinne jumps, one hand on her heart. "Faranth, forgot how fast it was," she says, spying the green straight away. There's a softer look for the dragon - biased? - and she says, "Pretty thing, hm?" to K'ylon, sparing in a tight-lipped grin. Flannery ignores her son's bronzely activities, herself preoccupied with whooping and hollering for the emergence of the newborn green. She raises a kerchief over her head and whirls it in the air, casting an appreciative grin up at Tyrrath. From the sands, Tannim is started as the egg shatters sending him jumping backwards none to noticeably. A flush comes over his face, possibly from embarrassment or maybe its from the heat of the sands. He ohhs nudging Kamia, "Look a green." From the sands, Niklo had been doing just fine until Tzivya decides to mention the audience. Then she seems to choke, shudder, and starts to say something... and then the Red Velvet Swag Egg hatches. "Look!" All nervousness is forgotten. "Look, that's my favorite! A green, look! A green!" The corners of R'hin's lips turn upwards, tones dry enough to make any sarcasm ill-conveyed in the observation that follows Satiet's comment to E'tyn: "Some queens are not quite so possessive of what's... theirs," he notes. The Telgarian's response, suspicion included, doesn't go unnoted, but the 'Reachian takes it in strike with sardonic twist of lips. "I hope you'll pass my congratulations onto Niereth. I'll have to make sure to drop by with a congratulatory bottle of wine sometime soon, E'tyn." The sounds of the hatching pull his attention towards the sands again, though probably not for long, keeping track of who's where. Llany smiles, "Never stood for impression myself. Guess I just have music in the blood." From the sands, Kamia oohs quietly over the green.. her eyes blinking a bit at the deep colors and her size, looking around the other Candidates, to see if she finds her match among them. "She's a beaut..." From the sands, Kaelana looks half bored and half watchful, not stupid enough to let her disinterest get her on the end of a hatchlings claws. She glances at her friend and asks, "Whats up with you? Nervous or something?" She doesn't comment on the newest dragons, but is wary of them nonetheless. From the sands, K'ylon ayes softly to Balinne. "She's a looker alright. Delicate." His words are sparse now that there's work to be done, and impressees to take care of. From the sands, Madge glances over at Tolemic and lifts an eyebrow. "Madge." And then, again, for Tzivya, "Madge." At least she has that part down. Every crack of shell and new name called out has her twitching, then looking irritated with herself for being startled; her feet shuffle around constantly. Jenufa warmly applauds the green's hatching, clutching a stylus in her teeth, before dutifully scrawling its color and hatching time on a pad. From the sands, Illatus's eyes are drawn to the green that seems to be taking her time. "How pretty," he says, glancing at the other eggs and shuffling his feet in the black sands. He glances to the candidates around him. Looking at Madge, "Nice to hear your name," he says, grinning to her. From the sands, From the Rafters Egg wiggles again. It's first attempts is more practice than anything, as it attempts to figure out this rocking thing. Shimmy. Shimmy-shake. But it's not quiet got it yet. Maybe a little bit more of a /rocking/ motion will work? From the sands, Tzivya grins at Niklo, "Maybe she's for you?" She says, in a hopeful voice. She looks back to the green appraisingly. "Though, she's got a serious look to her, probably not so good for you. Madge gets a warm smile. "Relax, it'll be easy, hey?" From the sands, Volath rumbles a note of approval for the first green out of his clutch. Well, he would. He bends down his head a little for a better look at her silver-tipped shape, the thoughtful notes in his throat resolving soon into more egg-encouraging humming. From the sands, Tolemic nervously licks his lips and swallows, blue eyes flashing over the twitching eggs to linger on that green. After a second they flick up to Aerianth, then Volath, then again over to the stands. "Madge," he repeats, sparing the attention to peek over at the new Candidate. "I'm Mic." Then he's back to the green and the eggs, watching them with all the skittish intent of a bovine at dragon feeding time. The exchange between R'hin and Satiet doesn't go unnoticed by E'tyn, for his lips purse soon in a baffled little O. "He doesn't need the congratulations. It's... well, he is fully aware of his accomplishments." Wry, the bronzerider also turns to take stock of the sands, noting aloud, "This is the first hatching I've been able to go to since... well, Impressing myself. You?" A questioning look turns to Tavrie. From the sands, Amira smiles at the green's entrance. "Nervous? Of course I am. I've never been this nervous in my life!" She takes a deep breath and doesn't comment on Kae's lack of a reaction to the hatching. She instead watches the green, as it might prove to be dangerous. From the sands, Script Egg isn't moving; its probably rather impossible, really, with the way it's been more than half-buried, with both apexes concealed beneath small mounds of sand. To compensate, however, it's tapping. Tap. Taptaptap. Excuse me? Is anyone out there? From the sands, Kamia tilts her head confused. "Why hasn't she found her match yet?" She looks over to Tannim worriedly, an looks at the other eggs, then the green dragon again. Tegara catches the Telgari Weyrleader's remarks and turns to shoot him a hard glance. What, forgotten so soon? Charis climbs up some stairs into the seats. Charis has arrived. From the sands, Illatus looks over at the tapping eggs and frowns in concern, before turning his eyes back to the green admiringly. He glances at Kamia, "She's taking her time, knows what she wants," he says, smiling and looking back to the young dragonnet. From the sands, Balinne spares a moment to wipe at sweat on her forhead. "Forgot how hot it was," she notes, rolling her eyes. "You OK?" The question is posed to K'ylon, and she gives him a curious look. "Breath." From the sands, Niklo gives Tzivya a half-nervous, half-hopeful look. "I... I dunno," is her only response, eyes still fixed on the little green. As for all the introductions being made here, of all places, she just plain ignores them. Plenty of time for that later! Now there's room for only the eggs, and the dragonets emerging from them. Satiet, silent, just gives the man at her side a -look-. From the sands, Stately Forest Greenheaves herself upright, her eggshell 'crown' spinning crazily upon one headknob, until a regal toss of her neck sends it flying. Yes, much better now! A soft, disdainful snort, and her strong, supple form gives a huge stretch, her carmine gaze taking note of the noises and things around her. And with a huff, the proud lady reorients her eyes on those white-clad, pink things some meters away, and takes her first, sure steps. And promptly spills face first into the Sands. Flannery raises a hand in belated greeting to her weyrleader, smiling at him warmly, before turning her attention back on the sands, eager to see to whom the young green will Impress. From the sands, Tannim steals a quick glance up towards the stands to see if his family made it by some off chance. He doesn't look long, not wanting to miss anything down here lest he get trampled or mauled or something. He grins at Kamia and shrugs. "Must be picky, has to be the perfect one." He shifts from foot to foot, sweat starting to run noticeably down his forehead. Rohana pats Llany's arm as she releases it. "Sorry." She murmurs. "I got excited." Roh strokes her sleeping brown firelizard gently. "I do too. One reason I was so shocked when Kazara and Kraznyth Searched me." From the sands, Madge's lip curls at Illatus. "Uh. Yeah." Her name is good. It doesn't change or jump out at her. Tolemic gets another look, then Tzivya, and finally she nods and takes a deep breath. Oh yeah, breathing. "Easyeasyeasyeasy." When in doubt, stick to a mantra. When the green topples she winces. Ow. From the sands, Kamia whimpers at the poor Green, wanting so much to go help her, and so worried that she is ok. "It's ok beauty... take it slow" She encourages at her distance, not wanting to get in the way of the dragon's other half. From the sands, Rocking, rocking, rocking, poor In the Rafters Egg still can't seem to get the hang of this 'birth' thing. It lies still again, resting, perhaps. Just when one might suspect it had given up on life, its shell bursts with a startling *SNAP* sound, shattering into a million fragments. With a startled squawk, the Headstrong Stone-Wrought Green Dragonet is spilled out onto the dark Istan sands, breathing her first breath of life. From the sands, Kaelana does look nervous on closer inspection, but it's not likely for one to take the time away from the stumbling dragonet or the shaking eggs. "Well, hopefully your nervousness is from optimism and not... well, hopefully -your- dragon is out on these sands." From the sands, Nolee overhears Kamia's question in the midst of shifting from foot to foot to ease the heat even at the edges of the sands. "Some of them take a little while. Hopefully not too long. But a little while." She looks back in time to find the dragonet flopped over, and to tilt her head, puzzled. Oops. R'tran now sits with his arm draped around Anastassja, whose name he hasn't quite caught as yet, watching the sands with a wry grin pasted to his face. From the sands, Headstrong Stone-Wrought Green She's like a gemstone, this robust young green, chiseled rough from the earth by willpower alone. Her deep malachite color grows darker down solid legs, nearing black at trim, blunt talons. Marbling of beryl cracks like the veins in granite down her sides, angling across her haunches and spreading throughout her broad, opaque wingsails. Her head is long, her eyes wide-set, but her muzzle is tapered, delicate and feminine. Her slender neck slopes into graceful shoulders, where sinew lends her body a potent hardiness that is softened by a shapely tail. Not as delicate as some, she's got more strength than grace in a form sculpted by well-defined muscle. She may not be the biggest green, but she promises to be powerful.
Anastassja gasps as the one green topples, then aaahs appreciatively as the newest green breaks forth from her shell. Attentive as he might be for answers from those seated close by, E'tyn isn't completely blind to the movements about him and the wave Flannery sends over receives a quickening grin of acknowledgement. Tavrie can't help but grin shyly when E'tyn includes her in his greeting to the others. She works hard to stifle a laugh when Satiet gives R'hin a look and then edges even farther to the end of her seat, watching the greens eagerly. M'yr slides down Soldreth's side to his foreleg, landing safely on the ground. M'yr has arrived. Flannery renews her whooping as yet /another/ green makes her way into the world! From above, Tyrrath bugles, absolutely beside herself. From the sands, K'ylon remembers to breathe -barely. A smile flits over his lips as the regal green trips. "Remember that, Bali?" He relaxes somewhat. From the sands, Kamia her eyes dart to the newest arrival, completely and totally feeling out of the water now, taking a few steps back to relieve her feet and get a better view. From the sands, Fadra gives a slanted look past Balinne to K'ylon, looking momentarily bemused. "If'n y'faint on me, K'ylon," she warns (though maybe she's bantering?) you'll nay like where y'wake up - nor what you'll be wearing." From the sands, Illatus looks at the green as she tumbles, and then at the newly-hatched one, smiling at the creatures. He spares another glance and Madge and frowns, "Don't remember me, huh?" he asks, shuffling and hopping between his feet. "They all come at once, don't they?" he says, to no one in particular. Charis steps in through the entrance, turning her head a bit to see if there is any seating. She stops a few steps in, trying to get out of anyone's way while she looks down at the sands briefly From the sands, Balinne snorts, but there's a curious uplift in her mouth. She's finally starting to enjoy herself again. "I remember. Didn't think I would, but I do." She chokes a bit of laughter at Fadra, and spares the Weyrlingmaster a look. For now, she'll pretend they're friends. Caitlyn gasps as the first green tumbles, trying to get a better look - then clapping when the stony green breaks her shell. Ahh, it seems like yesterday that *she* was out there... From the sands, Tzivya slips her hand free of Niklo's, focusing on the eggs shattering around them. Her eyes are wide and her breathing is fast as she watches the hatchlings find their partners in life. She glances over at the weyrling staff on the sideline biefly, especially Balinne, but she can't be distracted long from the winged beasts being born. From the sands, Tannim winces as the green falls over his healer instinct wanting to go help the poor thing but better judgement prevails as his attention is shifted to the new arriving green. He winces some as sweat stings his eyes, wiping it away with the back of his hand. he motions this time to Tzivya, "Oh another green." From the sands, Dramatic Mask Egg gives a wiggle, gives a shake, and tumbles off its mound to roll to a halt at the base, where it cracks open and spills a distraught looking brown onto the sands. He rises, spreading out his wings for an examination that concludes with an approving grunt, before throwing himself into a hunt for something only he knows. He's woven in and out of the candidates three or four times, nary stopping to look at a one for longer than a second, when he suddenly gives a little shriek of surprise. Spinning back around, the brown catches his own long tail between his claws and comes spilling to a halt no where near anyone. It's when a tall boy from the Harper Hall steps forward and kneels next to him that the brown stops bemoaning his own injury to look contently at his chosen. "His name is Copaeth," the boy tells those closest to him, "and he says he's fine." The look R'hin receives from Satiet earns a quirk of brows, and a spread of his left hand, in a gesture that clearly telegraphs, 'What did I do?'. The innocence, however, doesn't extend to the knowing, amused quirk of lips that shortly follows. The Telgarian Weyrleader's comments earn an appreciative chuckle, though he's silent as gaze flicks, too, to Tavrie, speculative a moment. The cheers of the crowd steer his gaze to the sands just in time to see the green tumble. From the sands, Amira grins at Kaelana's words if not at her as she looks out at the green- no two greens- that populate the sands so far. "I'm nervous because of everything, I think. And maybe your dragon is out there, too." She glances quickly at Kaelana. Hands slide into B'yan's pockets as he watches another green hatch. While for the most part his eyes is on the sands, every now and then he scans the faces near him in the back area. R'tran is just waving to M'yr when he sees the Harper boy Impress. He calls, "Huzzah for Copaeth!" From the sands, Tolemic's feet shuffle on the sands, absently scooping and kicking out a little hollow. "Watch," he tells himself, or perhaps just the air. A short little whistle escapes his lips at the sight of the newest green, but he's looking over at the other eggs soon enough, missing the first green's faceplant. "Hey, that brown moved quick. They move faster'n you think, don't they?" From the sands, Madge, after looking at Illatus again and more intently this time, does remember him. "Oh. You." Did he expect something other than nervous recognition? Apparently she only has one mode right now, and it's anxious. Wiping her sweaty palms up and down her robe she mutters, "Sorry. I ain't all that-" Twitch. Another dragon. M'yr pants from whatever effort it took him to make it onto the Istan gallery, his head turned toward the sands and the commotion below. It's R'tran's yell that brings his eyes to the gallery again, sending the wave back as well as a wide grin for those present. Rohana peers at the boy who just Impressed the brown. "Hey! He's from the Hall! Well, used to be..." She cheers. "Did everything happen this quickly when I was Standing? It seemed to go really slowly for some reason...yes, hatchlings everywhere...nice greens..." Jenufa leaps to her feet, stuffing her hidepad under her arm and sticking her stylus behind her ear, to applaud the harper lad who has just Impressed his green. "Bravo!" she cries. From the sands, Niklo doesn't seem to notice when her friend's hand slips from hers. Nope, she's playing it cool. Mostly. All her attention is on the young dragons wandering, and the eggs unhatched as she unconsciously shifts her weight from foot to foot on the hot sands. Llany smiles, "You might not belive it Hana, but yes it went just as fast." Tavrie's shy grin is returned by the quickened crook on E'tyn's face, emboldened out of tentativeness it would seem by his conversation partner's quietness. "Is this your first hatching? I mean," he's quick to correct himself, just as the cheers resound through the stands for someone for Harper Hall. Looking amused, though his claps join some others, he waits for it to die down and tries again, "I mean, since Impressing yourself." From the sands, Script Egg has, somehow, made a space in which it can wriggle. So that's exactly what it does, in what seems to be futile attempts to dislodge itself completely. The tapping from within has lost it's rhythmic quality and yielded to a staccato beat of impatience. From the sands, Illatus grins at Tolemic and nods, before quickly looking back at the dragonets moving across the sands. He smiles at Madge, grinning slighly and murmuring, "Yeh, I guessed," as he watched the brown impress, "Yay, first boy to impress," he says, chuckling to himself. From the sands, Kaelana lets out a strained laugh, deciding on her response. "If K'ylon isn't a liar, then maybe you're right. I don't know enough either way to guess if he -is- right, so i'm just going to go with my gut feeling and root for those who actually deserve it." She takes a small shuffle, the heat of the sands slowly seeping through the thin soles of her sandels. From the sands, Tannim nods agreement to Tolemic as he over hears his second comment. "They sure do, no wonder they say be vigilant." He sighs as he is blinded from the stinging sweat in his eyes, grumbling to no one in particular. "They should have us wear head bands or something to stop the sweat, I can't see now." From the sands, Stately Forest Green lurches to all fours again, pinions working to pull her free from the groud. I meant to do that. Roughly snorting accumulated sand from her nostrils, she takes a moment to gather herself, then sets off once again on her adventure. Hmm, no, not that one... Nor that one. No, not even /that/ one. She seems to know what she's doing, taking her time in rejecting one Candidate after another as she strolls by with wobbly grace. Cynara laughs, and murmurs, "Marsath? Stop counting greens. I know each one hatched makes your life's goal harder, but..." She rolls her eyes. Terlara just manages to look confused, but then watches the green. "Picky!" Tavrie nods and smiles at E'tyn warmly. "It is. It's also the first time I've been here, I think," she says, looking confused for a moment before going right back to blissful contentment. "It is differnt now that I've been through it," she admits. Easily distracted, in spite of the celebration for a harper's Impression, Satiet casts quick glance about, again allowing pale eyes to fall on Kylia before they dance off to spy out other notable faces including that of B'yan. Tiny, but very much there, a small smirk emerges and with all the makings of self-awareness, a slim hand reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and then lets it fall to press R'hin's leg lightly. "There are a lot of us here," where 'us' includes a quick nod to Charis and other Reachians interspersed throughout the crowd. "The cooks won't have many a mouth to feed tonight at home." From the sands, Kamia relaxes as the forest green dragon seems to get her feet under her, and settles to watch the dragons again. From the sands, Illatus lets out an involutary giggle at the way the Forest Green appears to be dismissing the candidates she passes, "Definately knows what she wants, doesn't she?" the boy says, apparently becoming more at ease with the whole process now he's survived the first few minutes of the hatching. Something he didn't really expect to happen. From the sands, Amira nods once, in agreement. "If you do, then you'll be rooting for yourself. You were Searched, so you deserve it." She crosses her arms to better keep them controlled and follows the hatchlings with her eyes. "Aye," E'tyn responds quickly in humor, lowering his head a bit so his words might not get lost in the crowd noise. "Been through it makes it seem like some rite of passage." From the sands, V'lano, after a moment checking on his weyrwoman to be certain she - and Aerianth - are all well, edges around to Volath's shoulder and leans there. Volath looks down at his rider for a moment, 'hm?' but receiving no feedback, goes back to watching his daughters (and his sons too, sometimes) while humming encouragement for those hatchlings still shellbound. From the sands, Nolee notices that V'lano is over yon leaning on dragon shoulder, and she slowly and carefully makes her way over to him, her eyes on the dragonets much more than the candidates. "They're all alive!" she comments. "Well, so far, anyway." Obliviously, she sighs. "Hot day, isn't it?" From the sands, Script Egg's wiggling about has done little to help it; on the contrary, it's now deeper in the sand than when it started, and the hatchling inside seems terrified at the prospect of being buried alive, as the sand trickles back to fill in over it's shell. The egg gives a jump that could be frantic, and when it lands the shell spider webs neatly, but doesn't fall apart as such. It's a flurry of shards, most of which end up clinging to his hide. From the sands, Shrewd Savannah Brown At first glance, it's hard to notice anything about this brown except for his unusual build. The outline of his full form is bold and bulky rather than long and lean, excepting the sharp feature that is his muzzle and the whiplike length of his tail. His musculature is a promise of endurance and strength, if not excessive speed, tightly wound cords that ripple beneath the sepia of his hide with movements even as miniscule as a turn of his head. He's of a dusky coloration, a burnt shade of umber that maintains a relative uniformity over his hide. In contrast to that darkness, a brighter shade of ochre brushes along his shoulders and chest, accentuating their burly strength. The same color can be seen sparingly on other parts of his frame: dominating the tip of his tail, and patches of worn suede at each joint. His girth and darkness lend him a surly confidence. From the sands, Balinne murmers, "Get ready," to no one in particular. She's anticipating something, but whatever it is, it's interupted with the hatching of a brown. "oh. Well, Nevermind." Hm. More waiting. From the sands, Kaelana raises a brow, seeming to have had this conversation before, "I think the time to dicuss the validity of my claim would be once all the dragonets have cleared the sands, wouldn't you think?" From the sands, Tzivya glances over to Illatus, "Taking her time finding it, though. Maybe she rattled soemthing when she fell over?" She says, with a small laugh. Her cheer is forced though, and her humor fake. She glances up at the stands a moment, searching among the people there for familiar faces. From the sands, Madge sticks close to Tzivya, just shy of grabbing the other girl's hand. She's too proud, and possibly too paralyzed, to do so. But the closeness is appreciated, the sheer reminder that she isn't alone. Fingers flex and feet twitch and sand is sprayed from sandals and all is generally in motion. Tavrie laughs and shakes her head. "That isn't how I meant it. I'm not quite so graceful with words....or well anything, compared to Satiet," she notes. "I just meant that it means more to me now that I understand the feelings that go into each part of coming out onto the sands," she explains to E'tyn. B'yan, with another glance to the crowds again, isn't far enough away to miss the glance given by Satiet. It's almost a quick reflex that the Reachian bronzerider straightens, hazel eyes then shifting to those with her before the brown hatchling gets his close attention. Lips thin, his focus returns to the remaining candidates. From the sands, K'ylon silent urges the hatchlings towards their lifemates, whoever they may be. And if he has favourites, he can be forgiven. At least he isn't holding his breath anymore. From the sands, "Always hot on the sands," V'lano replies, though after this he straightens and lifts a lazy salute to the junior weyrwoman, glancing her way once before looking out at the sands again, only to find a brown hatched in his brief distraction. "There's another live one," the weyrleader observes. "Beefy little brown. Must have had a rich egg. How did the candidates turn out for you? Everyone combed and brushed and -dressed- quickly enough for your liking?" From the sands, Amira grins. "That's the only time it can be more than speculation for -any- of the candidates. Not just you. Oh, look another brown." She points out the newly hatched... hatchling. From the sands, Niklo is beginning to settle into all this, hot, audience, everything. That is, until she spots the Script Egg hatch. "Oh no!" the youngster groans, smacking her forehead. "A brown... I was wrong. Uncle might be right... bettin' ain't for girls." Sigh. R'tran claps one hand against his leg, leaning into Anastassja to murmur, "Handsome brown, don't you think?" Rohana wrings her hands as the green seems to be finding it hard to choose. "Yes, I suppose it did. But I just felt like everything had slowed down...oh! Find your 'mate little green!" Anastassja grins back, murmuring a simple, "Definitely." From the sands, Fadra tilts her head off to the side at the browns hatching, and her gaze flickers up to the ledges, where the bulk of her lifemate sits, no doubt. "Aye, they are handsome," she agrees with no one, or perhaps that someone she's trying to spy, before calling to Niklo, "Oh, Niklo? I do believe that's /one/ week o'chores." From the sands, Illatus frowns at Tzivya, "No, they always fall over a little, don't they?" he asks, his eyes moving to admire the brown as he breaks shell. "He's a little bit... out of shape, isn't he?" the boy asks. "Looks a little, y'know, bulky?" Illy shrugs. He looks over at Niklo, "Where'd you get marks to bet with?" From the sands, Tolemic rises up onto his toes, stumbling a little before he manages to catch himself again. "S'that a brown? Whew, he's a sturdy looking one, isn't he?" Back onto his heels he goes, craning his neck to search out the other free hatchlings. "Has that green chosen yet?" R'hin's attention, divided between the sands and Tavrie's conversation with E'tyn, is only drawn to the other 'Reachians in the crowd by Satiet's touch and murmured comment. He half turns in his seat, pale eyes scanning the crowd, lips quirking upwards and an easy nod given as he watches sight of various 'Reachians, including Charis and B'yan. "It'll be nice for them to have the night off," he answers Satiet, when he finally turns back. "Perhaps they'll be willing to make a nice dessert for those that do?" he says, a hint of laughter in his tone, only partially serious. From the sands, Tannim doesn't see the brown hatch as he is still wiping his eyes. When he finally does get them clear he sees what the other are talking about with the green but his attention moves quickly to the brown. In his shifting he inadvertently nudges madge and whispers an apology, grimacing slightly. "Sorry bout that." From the sands, Headstrong Stone-Wrought Green sits among the remains of her egg. With a start, she jerks her head back and peers around her. Eggs. White-things. Hm. With a determined snort, she rocks herself up onto all fours, but though the motion is self-assured, her balance is not. With a startled squeak she tumbles tail-over-head and lands in much the same position she started out in, following in her sister's motions. From the sands, Kaelana grins, finally letting her attention rest of the little dragons storming about, "Maybe I'm not as bad at this candidate thing as you all give me credit for then?" From the sands, Griere seems intent on ignoring any and all conversation. Well, perhaps not -all-. Every once in a while she gives a silent little nod that suggest her queen might have her ear. While Aerianth might be pleased to have the candidates around, her lifemate's eyes are still sharp - sharp as new dragon claws on an unwary candidate, perhaps. Trace continues to pay as little attention in the direction of the sands as possible...and really, that's not to difficult as he tries to make sure all the weyrbrats stay close together. Occasionally he chases down one or another to bring back, and the rest of his time is spent actually keeping them all in place. Danged younger kids... From the sands, Tzivya looks over to Niklo, "What'd you bet, anyway? I Haven't had much chance to catch up with you lately." Fadra's voice reaches her and she winces. "Oh. You bet with /her/. Well, you get what you get then, sorry hon." She glances at Illatus. "Did her chores, I expect. They pay pretty well, really." From the sands, Niklo forces a weak smile at Fadra's call. "I know... I know," she nods grudingly, then shoots Illatus, and Tzivya, a look. "Naw, not marks... chores. A week's chores." The girl bites her lip. "If my other guess's wrong... ugh, don't wanna think 'bout it." Charis seems a little bit paralyzed where she stands, not being at a hatching since she impressed her own blue. She finally looks around and past some people, spotting B'yan she smirks, gray eyes watching for a moment before she makes her way over to him, weaving through a group. "Excuse me." she says to a couple, then sidles up next to the bronzerider, "Well, 'ello there B'yan." E'tyn favors the other woman by R'hin with a casual once over, his lips pressed into concentrated thought. Finally, he appraises softly to Tavrie after the noticeable interplay between the Reaches Weyrwoman and Weyrleader, "Somehow, I doubt many can match her way with words." That's followed with a smile and a more relaxed stance. "Some of 'em seem to take their time, don't they?" His chin drops easily in indication of the few dragons who pounce immediately, and those who are ambling along, or tripping along as it may be. From the sands, Amira shakes her head quickly. "If you mean that you have as much of a chance as anyone else, yes of course. But you didn't do to well with the rules of candidacy." She grins at her friend. Zahava looks away from the sands for a moment, and her eye falls on Fort's Weyrleader. She waits a moment to see if she can catch M'yr's eye, to send a wave in his direction. From the sands, Balinne leans over to nudge K'ylon gently. "Brown," she says, and points at the most recently hatched one. "And the greens sure look haughty, don't they? Definitely Aerianth's clutch." From the sands, Illatus grins over at Niklo as he watches the hatchlings warily, shuffling his sandals in the sands. "What was your other guess, then?" he asks, grinning and glancing up at the galeries again before lowering his eyes back to the sands with a soft sigh. Even if she's not looking straight at him, the twitchy smugness that touches Satiet's lip corners speaks of some peripheral vision which has kept B'yan within line of sight. "Perhaps. Do you plan on staying for the feast?" Cool words for the Weyrleader by her are coupled with further pressure, light, from her hand that's drifted up to his arm. From the sands, Tolemic looks down at the much-smaller Niklo. "You were betting chores?" he echoes. "For what? And you're paying attention to the hatchlings, right? Like they told you?" From the sands, K'ylon chuckles low, the sound breathy. "Aye. They are hers alright. And taking their time, too," he murmurs to Balinne. Llany smiles and murmurs to Rohana, "Help me preform at the post hatching banquet tonight?" From the sands, V'lano emerges from the tunnel leading to the Weyrwoman's Weyr. From the sands, Tannim casts Niklo a sideways glance and gives her as much of a conforting look as he can at the moment, "Thats why I wouldn't bet, even with you." From the sands, Kamia shifts back and forth, moving closer to Tannim. From the sands, Balinne snorts, and her smile is wry now. "Yea. Probably picking out the ones that are going to give us the biggest headache!" She sighs, and rubs her own head in anticipation. From the sands, The Stately Forest Green strolls along unevenly with unhurried determination as she finally picks up this walking with six limbs thing. No one has yet met her high standards, and so it seems her quest will continue. Red eyes whirl frantically as she deigns to peer at another candidate, then prowling past in a huff as that human yet again fails muster... Wait. Ah, there! Finally. In her excitement she temporarily forgets her manners, hurling her body forward to claim her prize with a proprietary snarl. From the sands, Fadra says with a snicker, "I've got a headache already." Tavrie nods in agreement. "Many of them are indeed taking their time," she replies to E'tyn. "I suppose that is a good thing, though. Making sure they know just what who is the perfect match," she muses wistfully. From the sands, K'ylon shakes his head. "Like I said, I probably deserve it." From the sands, Niklo nods, then smiles adorably at Tolemic. "Yup, chores. An', yer much taller, so s'long as you keep an eye out, an' I stick close t'you, I'm good!" Perfect logic. Even if she is watching too. To Illatus: "You'll see soon 'nuff, I'm sure." A slight frown. B'yan glances over when the couple hiding him somewhat from view suddenly shifts away. The Reachian bronzerider gives Charis a warm nod in greeting, "Hey," he drawls as she steps to his side. "Come to enjoy the hatching as well?" he ask of her, his scanning of the faces now kept to a minimum, perhaps deliberately as he watches the sands. If he's noticed any attention his way, it's only indicated by the haughty smirk that lingers on his lips. From the sands, Tzivya shifts her weight, suddenly painfully aware of the heat of the sands and how long it's been since she moved. She's turning back to the hatchlings just in time to catch the Stately Forest Green's eyes, and her own eyes turn into wide saucers of shock. "Feryth? You're Feryth?" A wondering hand reaches out, caressing the little green's head with a shuddering sigh. "Forever, yes, definately forever!" "Do you?" R'hin counters to Satiet's query, unbothered by the clear implication that his answer is dependant on hers. "Or," a faint trace of mockery in his tone, only slightly audible as his voice drops, "Does that depend on how much blood flows on the sands, Weyrwoman?" His left hand gestures towards the sands, inadvertantly drawing attention to the green that all but pounces for a candidate. Neko climbs up some stairs into the seats. Neko has arrived. From the sands, Brighid comes out of a yawning tunnel onto the Hatching Sands. From the sands, Balinne jumps, as the dragonet does. "There we go!" she says, grinning. "There's another one, finally." She's squinting now, peering through the haze to try and see who it is... "Tzivya!" Before anyone else can move, she's on her way out there, grining like an idiot. "Tzivya!" she says, softer, but none the less excited. "Come, follow me and we'll get her fed." "It was a blur for me," E'tyn admits, his fingers sprawling across his jaw and rubbing idly. "I can't remember if I saw Niereth hatch, or if I didn't notice until he stopped in front of me." From the sands, Illatus watches as the green launches herself towards her intended lifemate, letting out a whoop as he realises Tzivya is the intended, "Way to go, Tzivya," he calls out, cheering to her and smiling. He grins at Niklo, "I'm sure I will," he replies. From the sands, K'ylon cheers softly. "Yay Tzivya!" But most of his attention is upon the remaining dragonets - it'll be his turn soon enough! M'yr winds among the crowd, pausing briefly to send a smile of greeting or a few words before finding his way to Zahava. "Heya, Za. What a great turnout for Ista's hatching, hmm?" Attention drawn to the sands, he beams at the eggs and young dragons emerging. "Is that Mic down there? A fine green and brown as well! Hard to see in all the commotion." Tegara shoots up as if she were launched by a rocket. "Tzivya!" she calls, grinning broadly. From the sands, Kaelana gives a wry twist of her lips, for once not responging to the comment with a snide comment. She glances across to Tzivya and gestures for Amira to do like-wise, just saying, "My point exactly." From the sands, Tannim is started as the green lunges towards his position choosing Tzivya next to him. His face lights up in a bright smile as his friend calls out the hatchlings name. "Oh Tzivya, congrats. See I told you." From the sands, Madge's rock is stolen! The green is given a strange, crinkly look, one that's both irritated and curious, and she's shuffling away from Tzivya to be apart from the others again. "Um. Good for you." She'd attempt an awkward pat on the shoulder or something but, well. From the sands, Fadra's short stature isn't helping her now - this newest Impression, with that picky green, has her standing on tiptoes. She even lowers her pride enough to put a hand on K'ylon's shoulder, to help her balance, her chin tilted up. "Who is..." and then she's flat on her feet again, saying, "Oh..." She doesn't even have to tell anyone to go. "Quick, she is, hmm?" Fadra asks of K'ylon. "At least /I/ didn't have t'get her." A mutter, and Fadra's trying out, "Feryth. Fer-yth. Feryth. Not bad." From the sands, Powdered Wig Egg shivers, freeing nearby grains of sand to trickle downward from its built-up mound to join their brethren below, then the egg slides to one side, wobbling wildly, the hatchling within unable to bear the stillness of confinement for too long. The grayish flecks on the shell seem to vibrate, losing form like the plucked string of a gitar. From the sands, Tolemic takes several hurried steps back as Feryth comes charging. "Feryth? She's lovely, Tzivya," he says, grinning at the sight. "See, Nik? Gotta stay on your toes. --Say, have you seen any bronzes yet?" He cranes his neck again to look. From the sands, Amira has been watching the greens closely, so she catches when one of them finds Tzivya. "Tzivya! Congratulations!" she shouts to her secret buddy. She smiles widely at Kaelana. "That's one of my friends down." Satiet is silent in the aftermath of R'hin's question in return. "It depends, sir," a slight quality of mocking imbued in that title, and in all the following words, "On whether you might favor me as an escort." From the sands, Kamia smiles finally at that, but doesn't allow it to distract her, she keeps her eyes on the hatchlings for her safely. From the sands, Niklo glares at Illatus, but her expression quickly becomes one of surprise as her best friend Impresses right next to her. "Tziv!" the girl gasps, "Y-you... oh, Tziv." She grins, voice softening. "I knew y'would. I knew it!" From the sands, Tzivya looks up at Balinne with a mute nod. Her friends, the crowd, the sands - none of them exists. "She's hungry, so very hungry." A hand falls to her stomach. "We are. She is. I mean..." She confusedly trais off, and then is off after her aunt, with the little green beside them towards where she can be fed. From the sands, Illatus also returns his eyes to the other green and the brown lumbering about his sands, his eyes also flickering between the eggs. Time to concentrate now. His sandals shuffles on the black sands. From the sands, K'ylon murmurs to Fadra, "Aye. Not a bad name at all." He grins a little at the balancing act. T'rien peers around to see who Zahava is speaking to and, spying M'yr, lifts his hand in a silent wave. From the sands, Balinne walks down to the far end of the Cavern. St'vren enters from the stairs that lead up to the ledges. St'vren has arrived. From the sands, Tzivya walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Feryth walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Headstrong Stone-Wrought Green snorts determinedly and, with another uplifted jerk of her head, rocks herself back onto all four... and stays upright! With a triumphant little whistle, she takes off towards the row of candidates. Her steps are sure, even in her baby-stage, and though she stumbles now and again, she's quick to recover. In fast succession, two, three, four candidates are passed over with a haughty snort towards each. Tavrie looks thoughtful and then nods in agreement. "I don't really remember that much about impressing. But I remember the time I spent on the sands waiting and watching," she offers to E'tyn. From the sands, Brighid has been here the whole time, almost hiding behind some of the other candidates. She smiles her congratulations to the newest pairs and shifts uncomfortably on the hot sands. Nerviousness radiates from the girl as she watches the eggs and hatchlings. Charis watches with a small smile as the impressions are made. She chuckles softly, leaning back against a small spot of wall, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her foot to rest behind her. "Yeah, figured since I ain't been ta one since ours." she shrugs her shoulders, "Why not." She goes back to looking about the crowd, spotting a few from 'Reaches' including the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader, both getting a wry look. From the sands, Nolee shakes her head, leaning into the shade provided by Volath's mass. "I didn't brush them. They might've brushed each other, though. Mostly they were too busy fighting. Or kissing. Or being contrary. Or all of those things." A shrug: what can you do? E'tyn quirks a grin, the threat of it finally finding full outlet as dark eyes twinkle at the young woman nearby. "Th'eternal waitin' and watching. Where time seems to be going both too quickly and too slowly." A shrug later he again assumes his expression of sheepishness. "I'm not as poetic as the harper's might be, alas." St'vren is running late. There's sand in his hair that might have something to do with that--but never mind. "Telgar's duties to Ista and her queens, lovely day for a Hatching, did I miss anything amazing?" E'tyn gets a bow, Satiet gets a rather more flamboyant bow suiting her new exalted status, and Tegara gets a familiar tug at a loose lock of red hair. From the sands, Shrewd Savannah Brown snorts his triumph at what remains of the nuisance that was his egg before casting a keen eye around the Hatching Sands. All these admirers, these loyal subjects, here to see him? You shouldn't have. But something says he's plenty glad for the observation, even as he stands on legs that are wobbly with the stiffness of being curled. Taking a half-step from his mound, he languorously stretches out his back legs - then his front, and then his wings, all in turn. With all limbs in proper order, he has the good grace to turn around. White. What is all that /white/? If anything, the mocking R'hin receives in turn seems to deepen the 'Reachian Weyrleader's grin, his quiet words carrying plainly, "I think I shall, dear Weyrwoman, though I'd much prefer the familiar hearthstones of 'Reachian caverns." His attention on Satiet, the next few Impressions are missed entirely. St'ven's bow to Satiet earns an amused quirk of brow, R'hin plainly studying the Telgarian for a moment before attention flicks away in apparent dismissal. From the sands, Illatus smiles as his eyes follow Tzivya and her lifemate off the sands, then revert back to watching the green lounging past a line of candidates and the brown getting his feet underneath him. "They go so quickly," he says, glancing at the unhatched eggs. Anastassja just claps randomly, beaming ear to ear. From the sands, Kamia can't help it, she lets out a tiny giggle, her hand brushing Tannim's lightly. "Aren't the sweet?" She does have the ood sense to remember they are dangerous though, and stays relaxed enough to getout of way. From the sands, Madge has taken to biting on her fingernails to keep herself from fraying her robe to pieces with worrying. Every now and again she'll spit, just a little turn of her head and a *ppt*. Her feet seem to be moving of their own accord and she squirms in place, sweat trickling down from her temples and along her cheeks. From the sands, Tannim shakes his head at Mic's question, "No bronzes yet that I have seen." he gives the older candidate a shrug before noticing Madge has moved away some again. He quickly motions her to rejoin them, "He we wont bite." he calls over to her his eyes darting from her and back to the eggs and hatchlings. From the sands, "Kissing?" V'lano has been grinning a pleased smile for the latest impressions, including Tzivya's to that green his Volath was so interested in - but now he glances a more bemused look over at Nolee. "Fighting? They had wits about them to fight and make up even while the dragons were humming?" Faux-impressed, the weyrleader looks out at the sands all over again, brows up. "Well, maybe they're fit for our wings after all, then." Teasing, mock-serious. From the sands, Kaelana shrugs, her good deed of the day (in her opinion at least) ends up unrewarded, the girl already having been watching the greens. She does ask, though, "Liking the greens are you?" From the sands, With a final snort, Headstrong Stone-Wrought Green Dragonet seems to have found what she's looking for. Making an abrupt U-turn, she comes face to face with a strawberry blonde girl, plops herself down, and claims her for her own. B'yan quirks up a brow at Charis, "Me, just here for the food and drinks possibly," he drawls wryly before he nods sharpyl towards the sands to add "Though there are a couple out there I was curious about. Especially one of them, who apparently lied to me." He seems more amused by this fact than anything as his eyes look over the candidates. The Impressions get the barest of nods from him with a lopsided grin. From the sands, Niklo sighs happily as she watches Tzivya and her lifemate leave the sands, then goes back to watching again. Overhearing Kamia's comment the girl grins mischiviously. "Guess ya wouldn't say that if y'got trampled by one, eh?" She winks. From the sands, Kamia blinks in shock at the little dark green. "Right Naurimeth.. we better get you something to eat.. why are you laughing at me?" She can't help it though, she smiles, breaking the ranks to move to dragon. From the sands, Tolemic spares a moment from his own sands-watching to study Madge and her nibbling. "You're all right," he offers with another quick grin. "Just keep your eyes open and your feet moving." Which his own are doing, shuffling deeper into the little hollow he's already created. Satiet somehow manages to just miss St'vren's arrival and flamboyant bow. She, however, does not miss the familiar voice as it calls out near by and a look casts back at the other Telgari bronzerider. "Perhaps," the Reachian weyrwoman notes aloud, voice and expression thoughtful, "We'll dance as we did a few sevendays past." The words are to R'hin, though her gaze pauses on St'vren before drifting about again. "How many have Impressed so far?" From the sands, Nolee shakes her head again, missing the hatching and moving about of the brown dragon with the attitude. "Noo, noo. Not just before the humming. Ages before. We've been on our toes, you know." She nods importantly, then just looks confused by his pretend-pride. "Um...yeh." The girl finally agrees, her eyes scanning over the candidates. "Aww, was that another one paired?" From the sands, K'ylon tugs himself into a semblance of dignity and steps toward Kamia. "Naurimeth is it? Well done, Kamia, follow me." He leads the newly impressed pair to the corner. From the sands, Opening Night Jitters Egg trembles and twitches repeatedly, moving about in its raised mound of sand. A small fight, and soon a lanky, egg-goo covered bronze hatchling tumbles forth. He blunders along in his search for the right one, owlish eyes blink almost comically as he makes a serious consideration of a short, roly-poly girl with brown hair, snorting thick mucus all over her robe as he prods her tummy. And passes her by. Then a sudden shriek, and he launches himself at a tall, blonde-haired girl...knocking her down and barely missing stepping on her as he falls face-first at the feet of that handsome, arrogant youth from Nerat. Draconic eyes look up in adoration, and the boy appears stunned and disbelieving as he steps forward, murmuring soft words to his new weyrmate. Charis arches a brow at the man, "Oh really? Lied to ya? 'ow so?" Her gray eyes settle on his features, letting them linger there a moment before looking back out at the eggs and candidates. She doesn't speak for a few minutes, her lips twitching towards a smile, probably some sort of conversation with her blue. "Food and drink is always good. I'm sure dat they'll 'ave something different than at 'ome." From the sands, Amira shrugs at Kaelana. "They were the ones being indescisive. Those are the ones I think are dangerous." She now also keeps her eyes on the brown, as he starts getting ready to move. From the sands, Tannim now stands semi alone the girls on either side having both now impressed green. The look on his face however is one over joy, "Kamia, she is beautiful. Oh I am so happy for you." From the sands, Madge eyes Tannim, her thumb pressed in between her lips. Removing it, she speaks. "No thanks. Just fine over here." And not over /there/, thanks, where people are getting plucked up and carried off like fish from a pond. Tolemic's advice is heeded, but her eyes have dropped to his own feet. "You're gonna bury yourself." That said, back to fidgeting, her eyes on Kamia and her new lifemate. From the sands, Kamia places a hand gently on the dragon smiling a goofy amused grin as she walks with the dragon. "K'ylon knows where the food is From the sands, Kamia walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Naurimeth walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Illatus grins as the Headstrong green seems to have decided to chosen. He lets out another encouraging whoop, "Yay, Kamia," he calls out to the girl, returning his eyes to the eggs just in time to see the bronze hatch and impress. "There's a bronze," he comments. From the sands, K'ylon walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Balinne walks over from the far end of the Hatching Cavern. Zahava glances quickly from M'yr to T'rien, and then she nods. "I think I recognize a few of the faces on the sands," she comments. "But not most of them." "Perhaps," R'hin echoes Satiet's word, imbuing indifference into it. His arm, stretched out along the back of the seat behind Satiet, shifts slightly, pale gaze straying to the sands. "I've lost track," he confesses, with the slightest shift of shoulders, unconcerned. Llany slips away to prepare for the evening entertainment. From the sands, The Powdered Wig Egg shudders lastly, sending up fine dust from a shell fairly disintegrating from around a curled green form within. Though all of the commotion her egg's undergone was only the result of her stretching limbs and nudging nose, it takes her a moment to realize her freedom and, blinking, step free of her gooey confines to consider the new world revealed. From the sands, Lively Alpine Meadow Green The vibrant green of a grassy alpine meadow paints this dragon evenly from her pert muzzle to her long, agile tail. A swath of iced sage crests under her neck, then fans out into splatters along her slender underbelly. That same paleness, the color of the snowcapped mountains, dapples her peaked neckridges and highlights petite, rounded headknobs. Beneath neatly defined, frosted browridges, close-set eyes often sparkle with friendly wisdom. Her wings are like mountains themselves, though verdant instead of snowy; the spars arch high even when folded back. Translucent sails descend from them in gracious, windswept falls that play warm or cool, sunny or icy, according to the nature of the light shimmering through them. Her lean muscles ripple with the promise of strength. Lithe and graceful, she is all clean lines and kinetic energy.
From the sands, Tolemic looks at Niklo and Madge as Kamia's escorted off the sands. "That was Kamia, right? What'd she say her green's name was?" Trust him to remember the name of a girl. Tavrie favors E'tyn with another warm smile, wrinkling her freckled nose and ressisting the urge to giggle by hiding her lips with a hand for a moment. "Shouldn't the listener decide if it is poetic or not? You have a fairer tongue then mine," she tells him in a no questions asked manner. Flannery cheers! "Another green! Huzzah!" She leans forward, smiling happily as she looks over the fine new hatchling. From the sands, Niklo's words ae no sooner out of her mouth than the very person she's speaking to Impresses. "Well," she says, snickering softly, "Guess you won't be gettin' trampled this time around. Way t'go, Kamia!" Hopping from foot to foot excitedly, she nods to Tolemic. "Kamia, yup! And Naurimeth!" "I don't dance," St'vren warns Satiet. "I've been declared a hazard to the feet of Pern in matters of dancing. I will watch and critique, though. Nice bronze--oh /ouch/." He squints down until Impression is made and the girl knocked over by the baby bronze is declared okay. "Another crists averted. Rusuth, stop looking at the greens like that." From the sands, Fadra watches K'ylon take the green away with a quiet twist of the lips, content to let him go and instead watch the prowl of that brown, whose curiousity in the candidates has her bouncing just on the balls of her feet, on edge. From the sands, Kaelana nods, the comment deemed appropriate, "I don't think much of them are ones for decisiveness, but it's good to be on edge. I agree." She takes a shuffle to the left, the wince returning as the sand in her sandels scratches over now raw feet. From the sands, Illatus watches as the powdered wig egg hatches into another green, ohing at the grace of the creature as she breaks free of her shell. "Such a pretty egg, that was," he says, grinning around him, "Guess beauty breed beauty, eh?" "She said she wasn't a candidate, for one," B'yan responds dryly, shaking his head. "I knew something was off about her. Interesting sort." Smirk. "Ah well. Guess we'll see if she Impresses." Another Impression goes by and the bronzerider doesn't really seem to notice, keeping his focus on a few of the candidates still there. With a nod to the bluerider, "I'm surprised you didn't bring Eleria with you," he notes in mild amusement. From the sands, Shrewd Savannah Brown is pacing the line, a slinky prowl with his head low to the ground and his hindquarters bobbing slightly as he wanders around the people. Why are they in his way? Well, maybe this will move them. With a baring of clean, white, still-formidable baby fangs, the brown snarls towards his opposition. He stalks back and forth, looking for a through-way, stopping only once, to look perturbed, before heading back the opposite direction. There's got to be an exit somewhere. From the sands, Tannim watches as a bronze finally hatches and as quickly as he does he has found his lifemate. He cheers for the candidate who had bunked next to him and smile, calling over congratulations. He shrugs towards Madge then, "Ok, suit yourself." His attention though is once again drawn back to the eggs as another green emerges. The warm smile and the hand at her lips makes E'tyn flush rose to his ear tips again, a state of being that lasts long after his eyes have glazed in and out. "Ah-," brown eyes refocus onto Tavrie, "Fair tongue or no, duties don't seem to end for a hatching. Clear skies home...?" The tenor trails off, expectant and waiting with patient eyes on the Reachian goldrider. From the sands, Balinne returns to the Sands, looking a little drunken. She's not, of course, drunk. But she is still grinning like an idiot. From the sands, Madge will suit herself, thank you very much, and remain right /here/. And completely miss the brown's fang-baring, though the reactions of others draw her attention. Her expression is one of bemusement. Why're they so scared? Why is /she/ so scared? No! Nervous. Right. With a decisive nod to finalize that inner outcome, she resumes nibbling away at her fingers. From the sands, Fadra looks at the returning Balinne with a quiet smirk. "I bet her glee is just /paralyzing/," the brownrider murmurs, craning her head around her approaching staff to narrow her eyes at the brown. "Watch that one," she warns the candidates in a tone so low they'll likely not hear her. From the sands, One by one the lights that glare all over the Thousand Burning Lamps Egg go out. Wink after wink leaves the shell in increasing darkness, its gloss fading beneath a thin layer of leaking egg-goo, its source a crack growing at the eggs odd apex. Charis snickers softly at the rider's words, "Well, Eleria and I aren't weyrmated B'yan. Not a chance with dat 'appenin anyway." She looks over with an amused expression, pressing her lips thinly, "I think she might be gettin ready ta 'ead out ta see 'er family soon. She wants me ta go with 'er, but I might 'ave some business I need ta take care of elsewhere." She taps her fingers idly on her arm, glancing around again, looking back down to the sands. From the sands, Amira smiles at Kaelana. "And it helps you know if you've Impressed sooner." She laughs and turns back to the hatchlings. She stops short as she sees the brown snarling. "Yeah, dangerous." From the sands, Tolemic huhs? over at Madge. "Bury myself? Oh hey, look at that brown." He misses the bronze's hatching and Impression to watch the irritated brown, even going so far as to step forward, out of his sandy depression. His stillness lasts for only a few seconds before he's shuffling again. Tavrie seems pleased by his reaction and bobs her head in a ripple of dusty blonde locks. "Tavrie," she offers, in case he were searching for something to finish off his statement. "Clear skies, Weyrleader," she says with bright eyes and a cheerful expression. An aside allows Satiet to catch up where R'hin fails to oblige and lower, she notes to her companion, "The numbers seem to vacillate between four and six. This'll be the first time Joilin won't get precise numbers from me." Joilin being a blonde brownrider oft seen at the goldrider's side. "The heat makes me long for our cooler climate. I can't imagine sitting out here day after day minding after a brooding mother." "E'tyn." The notion that he's Weyrleader affects discomfort on his shoulders and his grin turns rueful. "Please, call me E'tyn. Clear skies, weyrwoman." Hesitant, and then he adds, "Tavrie," before disappearing into the crowd. From the sands, Shrewd Savannah Brown looks beyond frustrated - with his neck arched, he looks down his nose towards the band of white-things blocking him in, and then back towards his parents. Must I /really/ go on with this nonsense? Then, suddenly, his head jerks back around, to the side he lingered at only moments ago. As though he's attached to a leash that's been suddenly tugged, he slinks closer to the candidates, stopping in front of a girl with dark shaggy hair and brown eyes that hold the same sharp glint as his own. E'tyn walks down the stairs towards the entrance. E'tyn has left. From the sands, Brighid's eyes widen and she almost takes a step farther back from the snarling brown hatchling. Visibly steeling herself, she streightens her shoulders and holds her ground, obviously determined that she's not going to show just how scared she really is, though she looks ready to bolt at a moment's notice. From the sands, "I think it was - and there, another," V'lano replies, distracted for a time by the movements of the brown who's taken so much longer than his hidemates out of these shells have done to choose. The weyrleader does lift a lazy hand to flicker fingers by way of an indicative point. "Oh," he adds then, drawing the hand back to shield his eyes from glare, even with Volath's shadow there to help. "It's my favorite." Wry, that. "Oh?" R'hin's briefly surprised, pale gaze flickering around the crowd and noting the absence of Satiet's usual companion. "I'd assumed she'd found an... escort... of her own. Has she taken ill?" The inquiry is perfunctory; he doesn't seem to be particularly interested in the response, eyes instead trailing after the departing Telgarian Weyrleader, speculative, thoughtful. From the sands, Madge holds no ground against this sudden invasion. Powerless, unsuspecting, she's well and truly caught by the brown dragon, small and fierce, that's claimed her. Her hands fall to her sides and she stares. A wince, her face pinching, and she doubles over. "Takavath," is her gasp, her arm around her middle while her other hand reaches for him. /Him/. From the sands, If it were dignified, Fadra would fall over. "Oh, Faranth. What'd I do t'deserve this class? Am I a bad person?" she asks of no one in particular. And her gaze flickers away from Madge and Takanath, to V'lano. Affecting a migraine, massaging her temples, Fadra glances at Bali, who has barely made it back, to say, "Would you /please/ take them away? I nay think I can do it safely, right now." From the sands, Balinne face is, once more, in shock. But, it only lasts a moment before, as with Tzivya, she's moving before Fadra can, this time towards Madge. When she gets there, she pauses to look down at the brown, and then the new weyrling. "This way," she says tightly, turning on her heels to lead the pair away. There is little, or no, expression discernable. From the sands, Illatus glances over at Amira, "I'd have thought impressing at the end would be better, then you know who you're going into weyrlinghood with." He sighs and watches the brown and green as the move about the sands. A look of shock crosses his face at the choice of the brown, before says, "Congrats, Madge and Takavath," with no hint of insincerity. From the sands, Tannim stands near motionless lost in his own world of the eggs and hatchlings now. He watches as the brown snarls, he himself, for some reason unfazed by him. His eyes follow him as he suddenly changes directions returning back towards him and past to Madge. He jumps this time out of the way more than anything. "Congrats Madge." B'yan flicks a look at the bluerider, "Business?" he picks that word out easily enough. "What-" and something on the sands halts his words. A lazy smile coming across his lips at the Impression of the brown, the bronzerider leans back and shakes his head. "She's going to have a hard weyrlinghood," he drawls in a low voice, to no one in particular. From the sands, Madge can only look up at Balinne, desperate, and follow. St'vren salutes E'tyn good-bye, brows furrowing quick and thoughtful. But that's only for a second, then he's back to his customary face of affability and interest. "Took that brown long enough. Is there a reason Balinne looks like she swallowed a stinkbug?" From the sands, Niklo seems to have caught on that the young brown in one to watch, for her gaze keeps flicking back to him and just happen to be on him when he picks his lifemate. "Madge?" the girl repeats the name, blinking. "Oh. Well, congrats!" she cheers, despite not having met the other candidate before. Flannery huzzahs boisterously for Madge and Takavath! "Huzzah! Huzzah!" From the sands, In the Spotlight Egg tips. It's a thoughtful little move, as if the egg is just considering this whole hatching business that has taken its siblings by storm. For a moment it seems that's the only move this dark egg will make. But then the rocking starts - a heavy sway that shifts its base in the sand and sends fissures and canyons running through the darkness to converge at the white-lit apex. From the sands, Madge walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Takavath walks down to the far end of the Cavern. Caitlyn has been clapping and cheering to the Impression going on below, but at Madge's unlikely bonding to that tough little brown... Well, the bluerider goes silent, just staring down at the sight. Her face a little tight, a little pensive. Then, with a shrug, she takes up the clapping once again. From the sands, Fadra , bored and no longer amused, flutters away to find something that will better hold his attentions. From the sands, Tod walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Kaelana agree's, replying with a frown, "I think the hatchlings run around for a while to put us on edge, wouldn't you think?" She gives a small laugh, eyes still surveying the impressee's going about. From the sands, Tolemic's eyes remain on the brown despite his earlier words to Madge. When he Impresses, Mic laughs a short, breathy laugh. "Nice brown," he calls after the ex-Guard. "She's going to have her hands full, I bet," he adds more quietly to Niklo. Satiet, about to speak, is rendered silent by another Impression and the exuberant cheers for this one. Flannery is spared a curious look, brow quirked up in ill-concealed bemusement until the goldrider shifts her rose-hued gown about and returns to comment idly to R'hin: "She's laid up in her weyr, ill. I promised her I'd take notes for her betting books but," with a simple shrug, empty hands lifted, it's clear there's nothing to write on or with on the girlishly clad woman. She isn't silent for long, her comment to the Weyrleader traded in favor of another look for Tavrie and cooler words, "Enjoyed yourself?" From the sands, Fadra is not bored, for the record. And is still standing there, massaging her temples, watching. From the sands, Lively Alpine Meadow Green hops along on a cheerful path toward those white-robed figures. Not wanting to be late for mealtime, she holds her head up high, taking confident action before she loses her nerve. Her long youthful limbs tangle in one another as she trips. For a moment, her balance is unsteady and she flails, snow-capped sage wingsails held aloft, and in the next moment, she's having her very first meal: a tongue coated in sand. Flannery catches the Reachian weyrwoman's glimpse out of the corner of her eye and turns to her full on, brows rising, a bright smile lighting her weathered features. She holds this pose for a moment before nodding her respects, then turning back to the sands. Tavrie blinks casually over at Satiet and smiles her most syrupy smile. "Why yes, if you mean chatting with E'tyn," she replies, lavishing a mischevious and smirky grin on the other goldrider. From the sands, Amira nods and shrugs. "I think they do, but I know that they probably aren't. They just don't know where to look." She warily watches the hatchlings that are searching the sands. From the sands, Illatus grins as he watches the green moving across the sands, smiling as the poor thing falls and flickering his eyes between the other eggs, lingering his gaze on those that seem to be on their way to cracking. From the sands, Nolee frowns and chews at her lip. "You're not supposed to have favorites. It's bad for the weyr. Isn't it?" Meanwhile, she's standing up on her tiptoes, leaning side to side, trying to see who it was. Drat, missed it. "That girl? That other girl? Oh." Dejected. "One of the fighting ones?" Sigh. From the sands, The crack at the top of the Thousand Burning Lamps Egg grows wider still, glimpses of color within not badly matched to the hue of the shell itself. One last shudder and that shell breaks apart, revealing a shining new hatchling, eyes whirling, head lifted in curious enchantment. From the sands, Balinne returns to her spot, her lips tight. "I'll kill her," she decides, though who? From the sands, Enchanting Amber Gold Part dazzling fantasy, part regal dignity, one thing to be said about this queen is that she puts on quite the show. With snout down-curved and prominent, from some angles it would seem her muzzle's too strong, but the bold features of the rest of her face would be unbalanced otherwise. Dark, heavy browridges arch imperial over ingenue eyes; pale blond headknobs sweep back toward a long and sinuous neck. Resplendent in clearest, pure amber gold, her hide varies most in its reflection of light, glossy over the haunches and back and matte in the shadows of underbelly and paws. She wears her wings like a luxuriant coat, spars arched and long, translucent sails finely stroked with varying shades of umbers and ochres like a feline's fur. Though slight of frame she possesses a grace of movement and musculature, sinewy and slender, not a pound of excess. From the sands, Tannim recovers from moments earlier edging closer now to Niklo as he feels all alone. He shudders as the poor green falls muzzle first into the sands, "Eww I bet that doesn't taste all that good." He says to no one in particular, maybe to the green?" Charis nods her head slowly, seeing the impression of Madge and the brown, "Don't think she can 'andle it? Not dat I know anyone on da sands anyway." She narrows her eyes a bit, setting her features hard, thinking, "Yes business. Over at Crom." "You mean you -lied-, Weyrwoman? How dishonourable of you," R'hin observes, dry amusement lacing the words, eyes drifting over the woman beside her pointedly. "Well, I'm sure there are others that took copious notes that you can... acquire, with your feminine charms." Although Satiet's comment to Tavrie is noted, the Weyrleader stays pointedly out of it despite earlier interest. From the sands, Kaelana hmms at the gold, "So Niklo was right on that one, good call I say." She gives a small titter at Amira's comment, "When you impress, you should ask your dragon and tell me! I'd be interested to know." Jenufa gasps at the beauty of the newborn gold, rapidly scrawling lyrical notes on the dragonet for future use in the obligatory hatching ballad. From the sands, Tolemic bounces up onto his toes once more, craning his neck at the steadily-diminishing number of eggs and hatchlings. "Where's that green going? Are the eggs all hatched ye... Oh hey, a gold!" For no readily apparent reason his attention swivels up to the galleries again, wide grin on his face. From the sands, Illatus ohs as the gold appears out of her eggs, he watches her a moment, echanted by the movement and looking over at Niklo, "That was your other bet?" he asks before looking back to the green lumbering around. No sense in him watching a gold, is there? From the sands, Brighid, contrary to her actions toward the savage brown that just impressed to the former guard, takes a half a step toward the fallen green before catching herself and stepping back into her little depression. Her attention is caught by the sudden hatching of a shinning beauty, her eyes wide at the golden hatchling's appearance, "Oh..." From the sands, Niklo bobs her head in agreement to Tolemic's words, grinning at the older candidate. "Better her than me!" she replies, making a face. "Even if he has a real nice name." When Tannim moves closer she reaches out to brush his arm comfortingly, and then-- "Gold! A gold! I was right!" The girl bounces in place, cheering. "Only one week's chores!" Caitlyn rocks back on her heels a bit at the gold's emergence, oohing loudly as her eyes rivet to her lovely hide. "She's...so warm, so beautiful..." From the sands, "I misspoke, then," murmurs V'lano with a careless wave of one hand, dismissive. "Not a favorite. A hunch." Just then he realizes the golden egg's split is yielding its somewhat predictable payload, and at this he smirks a little, with an approving nod of his head, else silent on the matter. "Yes, one of the fighting ones. But not one of your candidates - if I mark my bet right, Madge hasn't been in candidacy long. I saw her a seven and some ago - and she was supposed to be dry for the time after that." Brows twitch, but he just puts up a hand on Volath's haunch and leans, eyes thoughtfully merry. From the sands, Lively Alpine Meadow Green is undaunted by this setback, and handles it with grace by licking herself down the haunch, spreading the sand. There, soothed the itchy spot, really! She next dips her head, investigating an abandoned bit of eggshell. Gathering her courage, she creels encouragingly to herself, and stands upright, wobbling. The eggshell bit is now stuck on her head, framing her face like a wimple as she blithely returns to her quest. From the sands, "I am a bad person," Fadra confirms for herself. "There's nay /any/ way this could get wose." From the sands, Amira gasps, loud. A gold? She takes a step back from the new hatchling. "If I Impress. And if you do, then you can askand tell me. Maybe you'll get her." She points at the gold, grinning. Tegara gasps. "A gold!?!" she exclaims in disbelief then turns to examine the remaining Candidates for a guess as to who will Impress this beauth From the sands, Tannim looks to Niklo whom he is now standing next to and smiles, "Oh a gold! You called that one huh?" He grins then leans away as she starts to bounce all over the place. "careful you may just have all the hatchlings jumping on us." From the sands, Balinne shares a look with Fadra, and shakes her head. "You're not bad.. but you're probably in trouble." She doesn't even grin at that. Her arms fold over her chest, and she appears content to remain that way for the rest of the Hatching. Not even the Gold gets her to smile. St'vren whistles softly as the gold makes her first center-stage appearance. "Oh, pretty thing, look how she stands. Tegara, you have any bets on for who gets her? I don't know any of these Candidates." Satiet's lips press into a thin line at Tavrie, but what she might say gets head shaken away. "We will have to get you some better attire," is all that's said instead. As for R'hin? His words require no response, and a quick nod indicates the newest arrival on the sands as well as a narrowed look for what girls remain. B'yan chuckles shortly, "Handling it would mean giving up the bottle. Hard to do, but if I could survive it..." and there's a brief shrug as a gold hatches. Despite this, he does notes Charis narrowing her eyes, "Crom," he echoes distractedly before he glances her way. "Why do I have a feeling that I know what this is about?" he asks rhetorically, his chin lifting. Looking back to the sands now, "Be careful," is all he advises, holding his tongue with a quick scan of the occupied stands. From the sands, Illatus smiles at the green hatchling, "Definately confident," he says, glancing at his fellow candidates and shuffling his feet. His eyes flicker between the other eggs, for a moment linger on the gold, and then return to the Meadow Green. From the sands, The last crack of the Spotlight Egg breaks it in half, black curtains splitting up the middle and shattering the pale cap into so much shining dust. What is left, sitting between the two broad curves of shell, is a green hatchling still tucked into a ball as if she doesn't yet realize the constricting walls are gone. From the sands, Beguiling Sunlit Satin Green This shapely green wears the two-tone glow of dark satin and warm sunlight with all the sensuality of a negligee, as though she revels in the feel of her own hide. A gleaming yellow spreads here and there about her healthy form, that light radiating from the curve of her jaw, flickering along her feminine shoulder, accentuating the round line of her haunches and lending definition to her already curvaceous build. Her limbs are delicate, with small and slender daintiness to her paws and the translucent webbing of her wings. Filtered hues of sunlight and verdant boudoir chiffon are strewn across her wingsails like a flimsy peignoir held by her fine spars. Her headknobs and neat little neckridges have a certain sparkle - a tiara unwound to trace down her spine. That soft flicker of silken light gathers around the base of each elevation along her slender neck and offsets their dark green glint. Her faceted eyes have heavy lids and arced ridges, tingeing her draconic expression with a languid ease.
You sense Satiet might not be speaking to the Weyrleader, but the pressure of her hand is quite present as it slides between her leg and his. There's also a slight lean that brings her glossy hair to brush against the bronzerider's shoulder. Flannery smiles and waves at S'dar, then casts a glance on her son and his new friend, both of whom seem to have fallen silent. From the sands, Ista's Weyrlingmaster looks less amazed than everyone else, at the hatching of the gold. Her face betrays distress, and she stalks away from where she's taken up post, closer to V'lano. "/You/ did this on purpose!" Her accusation is dark. "You /knew/ this was going t'happen. I nay know /how/ but you /did." From the sands, Balinne stares at Fadra, eyes wide. "She's gone mad," she says to the air. Her attention goes back to the Hatching - /someone/'s gotta look out for the weyrlings. From the sands, Tolemic turns back, his eyes going straight to the Alpine green and missing the hatching of the newest green. "Huh. Bet she's going to rethink eating that sand later. Wonder if she even knows she's not supposed to be eating it?" From the sands, Kaelana sighs, seeming to have had -this- conversation more then once, "Let's just enjoy this momentous occasion and -not- worry about me. I daresay they are more worthy candidates for your sympathies." About the hubbub, she mutters, "People seem to have a thing with shiny things." Charis rolls her eyes at the bronzerider, "You give up da bottle. I'd like ta see ya try it. Not dat I would myself." she quips back. She shrugs her shoulders, shifting her leg down and putting the other up, "Oh I'm sure ya got an idea. I don't plan ta be careless." she hisses out, gray eyes flickering. She glances over at the man, blinking at his last words, but doesn't reply to them From the sands, Nolee just stares at the Weyrleader; he always speaks in riddles, and her puzzlement is clear. Brushing candidates? Dry candidates? "I don't recognize her," Nolee admits quietly. "But I hope she's bathed recently at least. With water. Wet water." The hatching of the gold goes unnoticed as she watches the still form of the latest green. "Get up," she urges. "C'mon, up." Then she's half-hiding behind Volath, watching the ire of Fadra with fascination. From the sands, Tannim watches the gold then notes as spotlight egg breaks open to reveal another green. He nudges Niklo and smiles, "Oh look another green, have any bets on that one?" Zahava leans forward slightly as the gold hatches out, flicking a glance at M'yr. "Did you know that was coming?" she asks in an undertone note meant to carry past those around, though it's the surprise evident on Ista's leaders on the sands that she watches. R'hin's eyes finally drift to the sands at the murmuring around them, settling on the gold with a quirk of brow, but no other comment. A sidelong glance to Satiet doesn't really seem to be prompted by anything, the Weyrleader's quirk of lips given as he studies the woman sidelong for a beat or two, before leaning in to murmur something in her ear. Satiet senses "R'hin's voice is low, full of amusement: "Checking out the future competition, are we, Weyrwoman?"" From the sands, Niklo just bobs her head cheerfully. "I guessed it, yup!" she confirms proudly, as though she hadn't been wrong on her first guess. A slight smirk, but she stops bouncing, instead going back to watching the dragonets more carefully. "So many greens," the girl comments softly, "I guess I could get lucky, eh?" From the sands, V'lano, distracted from his conversation with Nolee to receive Fadra's frustration, replies with smirky grin and a tip of a nod, as though he accepts - admits - her accusations. "I allowed her," he murmurs. "And I knew this would happen, too." He casts another little fling of a hand out to gesture at the sands at large, encompassing. It's distant and arcane knowledge, kept for only the most adept of weyrleaders to know - but when there are eggs, often there tend to be weyrlings, in time." His tongue parts his lips swiftly, then he glances back at Nolee, hiding in Volath's shadow: "She won't bite. Not with me watching." From the sands, Enchanting Amber Gold picks careful, prancing steps away from the ruined remnants of her glorious shell. Petite paws splay wide over the hot sand, a study in contrast, gold on black. She makes it only a few meters from her birthplace before realizing the wonder arranged before her: so many people, both those robed in white near enough to focus whirlingly on, and those higher and farther up in the stands. All these she regards in a sweep of her head, chin up in careful consideration. From the sands, Amira sighs and shrugs. "It might also be that they're more rare than any other color. Though people do like shiny things." She shrugs, watching all of the active hatchlings. From the sands, Illatus eyes the next green to emerge on to the sands, "Well, there's certainly a lot of greens," he comment, looking back at the one that is away from her egg. His feet shuffle at the heat leaking through his sandals. From the sands, Nolee folds her arms and stares bovinishly at Fadra, not liking this all that much. "You do know she's--well, she got in a fight with one of them, right? I heard all about it." Apparently, only half about it. From the sands, With a few more impish, precise steps the Lively Alpine Meadow Green prances up to one last candidate for her consideration. Delight warms the eggshell-starved red that swirls in her eyes, and with a careless little flutter of her wings she steps one more pace forward, putting herself in inviting reach of a tall, brown-haired girl. There. All taken care of. M'yr has been lost in thought, focused on the hatchlings and the search for their new lifemates. Ista's Weyrlingmaster overtakes his attention until Za's question brings a turn of his head toward her. "Hmm? Did I know there was a gold egg? How was I supposed to know that?" Forging a smile, he shrugs quickly. "Their new Weyrlingmaster doesn't seem thrilled by it, does she? A lovely gold, by all means, don't you agree, T'rien?" Tegara is craning her head, scanning the Candidates left. "Lessee here," she tells St'vren. "That one girl there," and she points at Niklo, "I have her pegged for blue. An' I'm thinkin' that the gold'll go ta," a long pause, "to her," and she points at Kaelana. B'yan snorts, "I did, somewhat, while we were candidates and weyrlings," he drawls in small challenge. "That...one that became a weyrling seems to have it worse than me though. According to her anyway." He glances at Charis, regarding her words about Crom for a moment before shaking his head. "Don't be careless and stupid neither," he corrects dryly. With another look to the crowd, the bronzerider deems to say no more of it as he returns to the sands. From the sands, Kaelana just has to ask Amira, a near whisper, "Do you think people would be offended if I put my hand over my face like so-" She lifts a hand up over her eyes, "- and yelled 'Ah, my eyes! The shinyness hurts'?" She gives a little laugh, though how much of the comment was in jest she's not saying. T'rien nods absently, eyes and attention more or less fixed on the sands. "She's very nice, yes," he murmurs, squinting slightly. One of his eyebrows rises slightly and he blinks. "Cavoth thinks so, too." From the sands, "I know," V'lano remarks, only, in a droll, low rumble. From the sands, Brighid tears her gaze away from the young gold and back to the greens, "No, Brighid. She'll pick someone else. Don't think about her..." Only those nearest might be able to hear her muttered words as she shifts again. A look of determination on her face. From the sands, Tulle on the Twirl Egg has spent a whole lot of time doing absolutely nothing. Now, all at once, it makes a sickening sound, and a canyon of a crack appears. First a snout, then a pair of paws, all cornflower blue, stick through the crack, pushing and shoving and twisting until, in a tangle of limbs, the blue within is released and lays flat on his belly in the sand, looking indignant at his ungraceful arrival in the world. To his feet in a second, not to be caught on his belly long, the blue begins pacing around, embarrassed, before suddenly some /tug/ gets his attention and he hurries away from his cracked shell to boldly enter the mass of candidates. He skids to a halt in front of a tiny boy with blonde hair, cocking his head at him before nudging him demandingly. "C'tram? Erm...Prelth? Ohhhh..." It all dawns on him at once. "Oh, of course you're hungry...we'll, um...we'll get you some food. Right now." Anastassja pulls out a wineskin and, carefully pulling out the stopper, offers it to R'tran with a smile. The snort that emits from Satiet is telling enough that she doesn't have to deign to respond, much, to R'hin. "I heard, during a Pass when there are up to forty eggs in a clutch, sometimes hatchings last all day." Pity crosses her face as she flicks the remaining candidates a glance. "I can't even imagine." From the sands, Amira suddenly freezes and starts to sway on the spot. Finally her eyes lock on the Lively Alpine Meadow Green and she falls to her knees before her, whispering something. She gently strokes the greens eyeridges and repeats what she wispered at the level of a shout. "Myrienth!" R'tran takes the wineskin from Anastassja with a smile of gratitude, swigging happily as he watches the proceedings. From the sands, Balinne has relaxed a little.. maybe. Enough that she's smiling when she approaches Amira and her green. "Congradulations, sweety," she says with a smile. "Come, this way and we'll get her fed. Mind her steps." From the sands, Amira looks up at Balinne. "Food? Oh, right." She stands and follows Balinne, watching her green- her green- follow. From the sands, Fadra deadpans at being mocked. "Y'know well 'tis nay what I meant." She points, now, accusingly, at Volath. "/He/ told ya. Ugh." Shaking her head, until the dark spikes that are her hair wiggle her consternation as well. And being so distracted in her wrath at V'lano, and Volath, even, the Weyrlingmaster misses Amira, leaving her staff to pick up the slack At least /someone/ is paying attention. Thank Faranth for Balinne. Fadra even has the grace to look mildly embarassed when Bali steps forward, and so she steams from near the Weyrleader, arms crossed and gaze hooded as she watches the progress of that Gold. From the sands, Tannim casts a sideways glance towards kaleana as she puts hand in front of her face, not sure exactly what she is doing. As he is watching he sees one of the greens come up to Amira and he smiles as she confirms his name. "Oh Amira, she is lovely." His eyes return once more to the other green as a blue appears and quickly impresses. From the sands, Illatus looks at the Meadow Green chooses her lifemate, the cheers, "Way to go, Amira. Myrienth, you've got a good one there!" He says, looking to the dragon before his eyes move back out onto the sands, a cheer errupting for C'tram and Prelth as well. From the sands, Amira walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Myrianth croons to her new partner, encouragingly, then flapflaps along after her toward the promise of food. From the sands, Myrianth walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Beguiling Sunlit Satin Green blinks a faceted eye open and only after she's had a look around does she begin to uncurl from her egg-shaped position: a leg straightens, a wing stretches, her tail uncoils from around her side. She's slow about it, deliberate, batting her heavy-lidded eyes around the cavern, taking it all in as she finally rights herself and stands up on her unsteady legs. From the sands, Tolemic leans over to confide to Niklo, "Course you can get lucky. I'm safe, though - no bronzes. I -told- Seliene I'd be back at the docks. You and your dragon can come visit me, 'kay?" M'yr's attention shifts from T'rien back to the drama on the sand, though dark eyes pause in their sweep to rest on Satiet. Aside to Zahava, he whispers, "It's true.", nodding in her direction. "And that must be R'hin. Have you met him?" St'vren makes mental notes of the girls Tegara has pointed out. "Of course, now that you've said that, the gold will Impress to one of those nervous girls hiding behind the eggshells. And there goes one green, and here comes another. You and Riaceth will have to teach them how to swim." Charis grins when she hears the man's words, "Oh, well. Its nice dat ya care B'yan. I'll remember dat when I come face ta face wit da bas**rd." she mumbles softly. "I need ta speak with my brother as it is. 'e really needs ta get out of there." is all that is supplied, telling more than she really wanted to. From the sands, Niklo overhears Kaelana and raises an eyebrow. "Mmhmm..." she mumbles to herself, turning when she hears more calls of congratulations. "Oh, Amira!" Recognition, and a cheer. "Green! That's great!" At Tolemic's comment the young candidate laughs. "Still eggs out there. Who knows?" A smirk. "Y'might get green, an' I'll be left!" From the sands, "He did not," remarks V'lano, with a fond glance up at the bronze whose attention is now cruelly divided between his daughters golden and green out on the sands. "What trouble is it to you, Weyrlingmaster? Whomever she's with will need to learn all the same things you teach any other, well - most of them, and then some. You wouldn't have wanted an incomplete experience, I'm sure?" Poke, poke, poke. From the sands, Enchanting Amber Gold inclines her chin once, turning her head a little aside as though sharing some splendid secret with the watching crowd. Now prepared, she sets out toward what remains of the semicircle of candidates, eyelids slowly shuttering and re-revealing her deep, thoughtful gaze in a series of comely blinks. Coming up short on a first investigation she doubles back for another, pacing fitfully along the line of white robes, glancing at a short pudgy girl from Keroon here, a taller one there. Only glances - nothing more. From the sands, Kaelana looks put out at her companion having left as if the green impressing was Amira's fault. She lets out a hmph, but still calls out a congratulations to the other girl. Zahava nods slightly at M'yr's comment. "P'draig and I were talking about that the other day. Fort's gone near 10 turns with no golds shelled, he said," she says, absently brushing a crease in her skirt. "She's taking her time," she notes, after a beat. From the sands, Illatus grins over at Tolemic, "You're mighty confident of yourself, expecting a bronze," he says, chuckling before returning his eyes to the Satin Green. "Well, she's a slow one." From the sands, Nolee continues to hide out behind the clutchsire, curious about what's happening between V'lano and the Weyrlingmaster. "You can't fight here," she hiss-whispers. "People can -see- you!" Tegara nods to the Telgari bronzerider. "The greenies'll learn soon enough -- theres' plenty a' water ta go 'round. An' I hope there'll be another blue or two an' a bronze." "Then it is good," R'hin responds to Satiet with a low-throated laugh, "That you will not have to endure such... indignities, Weyrwoman. Seeing as the heat is so disagreeable to you." He straightens a little, eyes flickering back to the sands, where the two hatchlings are still wandering about. From the sands, Discarded Bubblegum Egg has, discreetly, been gathering quite the collection of cracks. And now, amongst the chaos of its siblings hatching, it feels the distinct need to do the same. It neatly falls apart, spilling a moist and creeling green onto the sand, where her smooth, bright hide becomes positively plastered. Dragging herself to her feet, the doll-like hatchling wanders, crying, directly to a young girl from Telgar Hold, hiding her head pathetically in the crook of her chosen's arm. The young woman looks stunned, her mouth becoming a small 'o' as she stares at the dragon in front of her before she assures, somewhat shakily, brushing sand away from her lifemate's hide with unshaky hands, "Etteth, you look fine." T'rien scratches his cheek, still intently watching the proceedings on the sands. "It's been 10 Turns since the Interval started, too," he remarks. "Clutch sizes have gone down, so it only stands to reason that there'd be less golds hatching." From the sands, Tolemic says complacently, "Nothing wrong with greens." Which reminds him... "Hey, who'd she look to? Amira? And has that gold done anything?" He looks for her, only to have blue eyes caught by the shameless dark green. Lips purse in a soundless whistle, and he misses Etteth's Impression. B'yan rolls his eyes in amusement at Charis's words, not saying anything as he catches another Impression. While he doesn't respond, it's clear that the Reachian bronzerider is listening to every word she's saying, perhaps filing it away for later. His eyes linger on the gold hatchling, then the irate werylingmaster off to the side with a slight furrow of brow. From the sands, Tannim turns to Tolemic and nods at Illatus's comment, "Nothing wrong with being confident now." He looks as another green emerges and finds herself a lifemate. Very few eggs left he thinks to himself looking out over the remaining candidates still standing on the sands. From the sands, Beguiling Sunlit Satin Green leaves the goo and shatters of shell behind her, though they follow the trail of her tail in a sticky line. To feel the eyes of the cavern on her makes her tuck her head to the side, coy and shy, and yet she doesn't hesitate as she heads towards the mass of white robed candidates. She cants her head at one, drops her chin at another and draws away from both and keeps searching. From the sands, "We aren't fighting." V'lano turns a blind side to Fadra to tell Nolee this through a grin. Volath, for his part, bends his muzzle down and fixes a gaze on Nolee with one whirling, curious eye - not for long, though. She's permitted her hiding, so that the bronze can keep his attention on the sands. From the sands, Niklo grins, nodding at Tolemic and Illatus. "Nothin' wrong with green a'tall!" she agrees, then shrugs, looking around. "An' the gold... she seems t'be jus' wanderin' around. Like most of 'em." Sage nod. "Still there, though. See?" The girl guestures in the general direction of the young queen. From the sands, Illatus smiles at Tannim and nods, "Certainly not, but a bronze is not better than any other colour," he says to his fellow, looking at the Satin Green. "Take her for instance, certainly confidant, very pretty." He shrugs, "All the dragons seem pretty... must get it from the mother? Or father?" He shrugs. From the sands, The Enchanting Amber Gold makes one more approach, regarding again the white-robed offerings provided for her selection. Her eyes whirl slowly, hunger plain in their rich burgundy hue, but she keeps calm: this one thing must be done first, above all else. One last glance-over and her head goes down at last, neck arching low to express obeisance and love for just one green-eyed, honey-skinned girl. "There's heat," Satiet begins, paused in her speech by further movement on the sands, "And then there's /heat/." And the only distinction between the two is the heavier emphasis of her alto inflection - which doesn't clarify things much. "I don't believe I'll be staying for the celebration afterwards," she finally decides, and making presumptions of R'hin's decision coupling with hers, she turns to the junior goldrider, "You, Tavrie?" From the sands, Balinne walks down to the far end of the Cavern. St'vren turns his head ever so slightly, listening to Satiet be insulted by the heat with a faint smile. Tavrie rolls her shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure," she notes. "I wouldn't mind staying, though I wouldn't mind returning," she notes noncomittally. From the sands, In the Pit Egg strains, pulls, and whistles until finally the shell has had enough. With a trumpets blare, In the Pit Egg shatteres, spilling a bewildered young blue onto the sands. With a frightened chirrup, he scrambles to his feet, wings and tail going wild. In a tripping rush, he takes a leap forwards and lands nearly atop a frightened boy from Harper Hall. The squeal of surprise is quickly turned into a squeal of delight as the young boy leans down to help up his lifemate. "His name is Berth!" The 'Reachian Weyrwoman's presumption that she will be accompanied by R'hin seems to be a fairly solid one, given the Weyrleader tips his head in faint acknowledgement, pale eyes flickering over the sands rather than his companions. From the sands, Niklo's flopping hand freezes, then drops to her side and she tips her head, blinking. "W-what?" the candidate says aloud, staring at the young dragon that seems to have chosen her. "I... oh, Eviath." A smile beings, small but growing quickly, "Together. Yeah... I like that. A lot." Caitlyn is rather astonished once again at draconic choice, as the amber gold little one picks herself a saucy tomboy from those Candidates left. Not one to waste an opportunity, Cait tosses herself to her feet, clapping and hooting loudly for Niklo! "She's a gorgeous one! Eviath, eh?!" From the sands, Tolemic throws his head back and all but crows, "Niklo! Told you you and your dragon'd get to come visit me down at the docks! Eviath's /lovely/, Nik. She suits you." The other green, the blue, the last of the eggs, are all nigh-forgotten as the last of his neighbors Impresses right beside him. Jenufa leaps to her feet again as the Harper lad Impresses none other than a Harper-blue dragon! She applauds and, ever so elegantly, cheers! From the sands, Tannim nods to Illatus in agreement, "No of course not and they are all lovely, or handsome as the case may be." he turns his attention then back to the gold and green, watching as the gold walks over to Niklo arching her neck towards her. "Oh my! Niklo Congratulations, you got the gold!" he starts to shake again now as another blue impresses leaving, how many eggs? From the sands, Fadra holds her breath - and then barks a laugh. She can't help it, and whatever anger she had for V'lano is disappated when the gold picks her lifemate. If only to get away from the clutchsire and his /dispicable/ rider, Fadra reaches into her pocket to wander closer to the newest goldpair. "Niklo," she says, "and Eviath. Follow me, then." And she's striking a path in the direction the other weyrlings went. From the sands, Illatus's eyes move to the gold, when the gold stops moving, and then up to her chosen lifemate. "Niklo?" he mutters, questioning it himself, before exclaiming a louder, "Niklo! Way to go!" Clapping his hands. From the sands, The Beguiling Sunlit Satin Green spots the one. The one for her. It is an obvious relief for one who was so stranded, so adrift in the world all alone. She sighs a heavy breath as if she could not have stood to be alone for one moment longer. It lifts her head with rapture and her body goes soft towards the man with short dark curls. Tegara's reaction to this Impression is to nearly hit her head on the gallery ceiling. "Niklo!" she screams. "I knew you'd do it, I knew you'd do it!" So much for impressing blue.... Flannery cheers for both Niklo and her lovely gold Eviath, waving her kerchief in the air once again! Charis stays quiet, watching the happenings on the sands, curiousity reaching her gray gaze, nodding her head when the girl named Niklo impresses the gold. "Well I 'ope dat is a good impression. I don't know 'er of course." she says with the shrug of her shoulders R'tran hears his mother cheering and decides to tear himself away from Anastassja just long enough to notice and applaud the Impression of the golden hatchling. From the sands, V'lano laughs, turning around as Fadra leaves him in this strange defeat. "Oh, fantastic," rumbles the weyrleader then, stepping over to Nolee's hiding spot - it's not like she's well-hidden - to watch the rest of the hatching from there. "What do you think of her," asks V'lano sidelong, of Nolee presumably, "Weyrwoman?" Anastassja joins in the applause, raising her wineskin in salute! From the sands, Brighid's breath catches as Niklo impresses to the little queen, "Oh, Niklo! Congratulations." She almost sounds like she's going to cry now that the gold is no longer hunting and forces herself to focus on the remaining hatchlings and few eggs. From the sands, Niklo looks on the verge of tears, but she manages not to cry -- just yet. "C'mon, Eviath," she says quietly, not quite trusting her voice, "Let's getcha somethin' to eat, eh?" Reaching out to brush her fingertips against her new lifemate's golden neck, she slowly moves off to follow Fadra. From the sands, Niklo walks down to the far end of the Cavern. St'vren's smile is warm, and his gaze flicks up towards the dragon ledges, picking out one silver-flecked bronze without hesitation. "Her and Eviath, you and me," he says under his breath. Then he raises his voice in cheers and felicitations for the new weyrwoman--and the new greenrider, too. From the sands, Tolemic shouldn't have forgotten to watch. As he turns away from Niklo his eyes meet those of the green. His hands start to shake, his eyes widen and all but roll back into his head. One trembling hand reaches out to steady himself on her head. "Oh Aath," he groans, utterly lost in his own private world. "I'm yours, sweetheart. Forever." From the sands, Fadra walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Ronari walks onto the sands from the entrance to the Hatching Grounds. R'tran also cheers for Tolemic - whatever his honorific will be - and his new lifemate Aath! From the sands, Nolee notices the egg numbers are dwindling, so she peeks her head out from where she'd been 'hiding' -- taking shelter, really, near Volath. For once, she catches a keen moment, seeing a pair just-post impression, then another. "Jays," she whispers. "Amazing." Seliene has been watching with a mildly bored expression until someone she's been watching rather intently does something she hadn't /quite/ expected. Her eyes widen and her jaw all but drops into her lap. "Mic?" From the sands, Fadra walks over from the far end of the Hatching Cavern. From the sands, Makeup Spill Egg is not quiet about hatching. It practically explodes, spreading egg shrapnel all around, and the brown inside looks quite pleased with himself about all of it. Yes, that is my mess. All sorts of eager to get to where he needs to be, he puffs his chest and starts forward with unsteady and unsure steps. Towards his parents. After a few moments staring up at his mother, whose size seems to have tempered his own ego, he turns away again, his chest no longer as puffed out as it was. There's only a few steps of curiosity before the brown bumps right into someone's legs. What's this? Oh, there you are! The young girl he's chosen staggers a moment, then proudly announces, "His name is Kadieth!" B'yan watches the gold Impress, a polite grin given before he nods to Charis's words. "I don't either," he drawls casually before he looks towards the entrance. "I think that should be the end of it though," and he gestures towards the sands them, finally straightening from his lean. Caitlyn ohhhs softly at Aath's Impression of Tolemic - sending her to her heels again to hoot and holler her congratulations! "Way to go, 'Mic!" Zahava nods slightly at T'rien. "Yes," she agrees. "That's what we were talking about. How it's changed since we were growing up, but even then how much smaller and infrequent the clutches were than at the beginning of the Pass." She watchs the gold's Impression with curiosity, and shakes her head. "Not one I recognize," she murmurs. From the sands, Tannim is still shaking as Mic calls out a name and he looks over to see him looking at the green. "So much for the docks Mic! Way to go." He looks around as he realizes he is one of the few left on the sands. He shifts from foot to foot watching as the last of the eggs finish hatching. Jenufa cheers the brown and his new lifemate. "Ah, a girl impressed him! What a handsome lifemate he is, too!" Satisfied with R'hin's lack of response and less so with Tavrie's more vacillating one, Satiet gets to her feet as Eviath finds her Niklo. One hand lingers somewhere near the Weyrleader, waiting, and a glance casts to where B'yan and Charis stand. "Hopefully," her mouth shapes oddly, "Everyone gets home in one piece despite the celebrations." 'Come,' says the expectant look of her pale eyes to R'hin. From the sands, Illatus grins and cheers for Tolemic as well, "Way to go, Tolemic," he calls out. He glances over to where the brown impresses and smiles. "The eggs are going quickly, aren't they." From the sands, Griere finally moves away from Aerianth's side, stepping towards V'lano with a tip of her head towards the rest of the sands, the shattered remnants of eggs and the candidates who remain. From the sands, Fadra is back just in time to spot Mic's Impression. "Aath? Well...that's....short. C'mon. She's hungry, I bet." And again, Fadra forges a way. Though she's been quietly absorbed in the goings on, only speaking to call congratulations down at the sand, now that it's over Kylia stands. Unobtrusively as possible she slips out, wending her way around spectators and murmuring words of greeting as she exits. Kylia walks down the stairs towards the entrance. Kylia has left. T'rien nods, watching the last of the Impressions take place. "Me, neither." Though Seliene's reaction nearby garners a curious look. "Someone you know, sis?" The final Impression receives a studied sort of look from R'hin, who smoothly rises a beat after Satiet does, almost as if anticipating it. "Not my concern-- not tonight, at least," he allows with a low chuckle, offering his arm to Satiet. Neko walks down the stairs towards the entrance. Neko has left. R'tran gives one last huzzah for all the Impressees, then rises from his seat, beckoning Anastassja after him. R'layn climbs the stair to the ledges. R'layn has left. Anastassja joins R'tran, and with a wave to Flannery, whom she hasn't officially met, they depart. Seliene is completely stunned, sitting there in amazement as people start to filter out of the stands. "He Impressed a /green/." From the sands, T'mic's able, after long shuddering moments, to drag his attention back to Fadra and her instructions. "Are," is all he manages before stumbling after, one hand caressing Aath's headknobs. From the sands, T'mic walks down to the far end of the Cavern. Flannery rises from her seat, nods her respect to those remaining, then makes her way toward Tyrrath. From the sands, Fadra walks down to the far end of the Cavern. From the sands, Eviath walks down to the far end of the Cavern. Flannery climbs the stair to the ledges. Flannery has left. Satiet fits in R'hin's extended arm, sliding into the curve of them easily and even so, somehow leading the way before the rush of those exiting becomes overwhelming. An intimate duck of her head to the taller man precedes low words, murmured and are followed by a swift emergence of a sly smirk. T'rien snorts, jumping to his feet. "You say that as if it were a bad thing. Remember your roots." He turns and extends a hand toward Zahava. "Ready for some Istan hospitality?" From the sands, "Oh - that's the last of them. Fourteen." V'lano slips a hand out of one linen pocket with a quarter-mark piece in the palm, hefts it in a small arc and catches it, then pockets it again. "Excuse me, Nolee?" A deep dip of his head and merry, laughing eyes for the no-longer-newest weyrwoman, and the Istan Weyrleader steps to his weyrwoman, then with her saunters out through the ruins of the eggshells, across the sands, to a place before the remaining candidates. "Remember all of you were selected to stand here because you have what it takes. That your dragon was not here today means little in the long run. But a Weyr needs more candidates than eggs to ensure every hatchling can find his or her rider. Each of you has given us a precious gift," and here V'lano glances significantly across the white-robed folk who remain, "in permitting us to let our young dragons consider you. We wish only to repay you as best we can: with our hospitality, and if you wish it, your new home." He smiles, broad and inviting, swinging out a hand in gesticulation, welcoming. V'lano turns his attention then up into the stands. "We welcome all of you to come feast Ista's new dragonriders!" You sense Satiet murmurs archly, with a teasing promise in her alto, "There didn't seem as much violence as we'd hoped for, but perhaps, I can remedy that later for you." Jenufa waves, calls her duties toward the weyrleaders with a little wave, then departs. From the sands, Aath walks down to the far end of the Cavern. St'vren says cheerily "And now, we celebrate. With alcohol." St'vren climbs the stair to the ledges. St'vren has left. Tavrie sighs faintly and shakes her head at Satiet and R'hin, rising and heading carefully back to her awaiting lifemate. Tavrie walks down the stairs towards the entrance. Tavrie has left. "I look forward to it, Weyrwoman," R'hin's amused low tones answer Satiet's murmur as he escorts the Reachian goldrider from the galleries. You walk down the stone stairs towards the entrance. |
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