Logs:Of Inherited Violence
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 20 August, 2006 |
| Who: C'len, Delu, Draila, Harley, Jenufa, Kalliope, Nananthia, R'hin, Satiet, Seramara, Zahava, Zihsa |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Your location's current time: 16:35 on day 30, month 10, Turn 58, of the Tenth Pass. It is a autumn afternoon. Leiventh> You wing down and land lightly on the ground. Leiventh> Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr(#880RJs) Leiventh> Standing on the western side of the bowl, the high crownlike spires of the Seven Spindles on the north wall tower magestically above the roughly ovoid bowl floor. Near you, a large boulder stands, placed almost exactly in the center of the bowl. This side of the bowl is busy with the constant flow of residents and visitors around the entrance to the living cavern to the southwest and the lower caverns to the west. To the north, the large opening on the upper wall leading into the hatching grounds catches your eye. Directly below it, the ground entrance to the same area seems almost tiny. Northwest, the weyrs belonging to the junior queens of High Reaches are accessible from a short set of stairs and a path of carefully laid black marble leads from them to the entrance to the living cavern. To the south, a few ground weyrs remain unoccupied, in case any visiting or injured dragons need them. Leiventh> The early evening crystal clear as the sun sets over the western rim of the bowl. There seems to be a light breeze and the fall air is pleasantly warm. Leiventh> Contents: Leiventh> Verenth Leiventh> Ulfianth(#18Jae$) Leiventh> Obvious exits: Leiventh> LIving Cavern Lower Caverns Hatching Grounds Ground Level Guest Weyrs Eastern Bowl Floor Harley jumps up onto Leiventh's back, using his foreleg as a step. Harley has arrived. R'hin's wearing his flying leathers, brightening as he catches sight of Harley, lifting a hand to get her attention - as if Leiventh's distinctive bulk isn't easily identifiable enough. "They're humming, Leiventh says." He waits until Harley's settled, checking on her straps with a nod of satisfaction, before grinning, "Hold tight." You rise effortlessly into the sky. Harley settles herself behind R'hin. "Thanks for the ride R'hin. It's been a while since I got out of Reaches. "Anytime," comes R'hin's swift reply. "Hold your breath--" he warns, a beat before the bronze flicks between. » Leiventh disappears into Between. Between You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats... Black... Blacker... Blackest! You suddenly emerge... Sky Above Fort Weyr On a clear day, from this height, you can see for miles. Below you, Fort Weyr is spread out in the bowl of the ancient volcano, the jagged "Tooth Crag" dominating the northeast rim. At the end of the southwest corner, you can see where an ancient landslide has upset the Bowl's natural symmetry. The living caverns and weyrling barracks are straight down in the center of the bowl. In the northeastern bowl are the Weyrleader's weyrs, council room, queens weyrs and the bubble of the hatching grounds. In the southwestern bowl is the grassy plain of the feeding ground and the shimmer of the weyr's lake. Far below you are the Center of the Bowl, the opening to the Lower Caverns, and the Weyrling Barracks. Down to the northeast are the Weyrleader's complex, the Junior Queen's Weyrs, and the Hatching Grounds. To the southwest are the grassy plain of the Feeding Grounds and the shimmer of Fort Weyr's lake. Obvious exits: Center Bowl Northeast Bowl Southwest Bowl Sky Just Outside Fort Weyr Open Sky » Leiventh emerges from Between with a blast of cold air! You spiral down lower into the northeastern sky. You spiral down and backwing to a neat landing on the bowl floor. You jump down Leiventh's side to the ground, the dragon's sparkling eyes watching closely. You walk up the stairs leading into the Hatching Ground galleries. Spectators' Gallery in the Hatching Ground(#958RIJa$) The galleries in the Hatching Grounds stretch the length of the southern wall of the cavern. Broad sweeps of stone benches provide ample seating for spectators. Above and across from here are ledges where the dragons perch to welcome new eggs and hatchlings. From your vantage point, you can see everything that happens on the sands. Stairs to the northwest, at the end of the galleries, lead back down to the entrance to the hatching grounds. The Hatching Ground sands spread out before you to the northeast, and are accessible by another set of stairs to the north. Contents: Jenufa Delu Kalliope Zahava(#18157PIJOXceqs$) Cynara Seramara C'len T'yr Obvious exits: Bowl On the sands, R'us arrives a few paces after Lexiana, a scowl twisted across his face, heavy boots kicking sand. He takes up a station a few paces away from the cavern's wall, posting his feet wide-spread and crossing his arms over his chest. P'draig's youngest assistant looks, at best, moderately displeased to have been interrupted (?) by the proceedings. His green, Lindith, comes to roost high above on a ledge; she curls up, then dozes while humming as if singing in her sleep. Harley walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Harley has arrived. Zahava steps up into the galleries and moves along until she finds an empty spot on a bench, settling down and smoothing her skirt, her eyes intent on the sands. On the sands, Caeleb steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Vendelin steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Rainbow Brite Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, Lexiana waves at Jenna as she moves over to the Weyrleaders. "I don't think that has ever happen yet, Jenna, I wouldn't worry." Looking up, she watches her own excited brown find a place next to Lindith, before turning to R'us. "Ready for this?" She calls out with a smile to the newest assistant weyrlingmaster. Jenufa begins to applaud as she sees the candidates enter. Slapping riding gloves against his legs, R'hin enters the galleries with Harley, cheerfully informing the 'Reachian woman, "Haven't been in Fort for a while. Hard to say if I'll be welcome." There's a faint glitter to the bronzerider's eyes that might hint that he's speaking in jest, but then with R'hin, who knows? Pale eyes sweep the caverns, settling for a moment on a familiar Igen greenrider, and he steers Harley in that direction with a light touch, "I see a couple of seats down there," he says with a nod of head. On the sands, Salarios steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Mind Over Madness Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, Kalen steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Reighley steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Caeleb has managed to be at the near front of the line. He does a stumbling sort of half bow when he's on the sands proper. On the sands, Tirien steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Kiveily steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Jenna ahs, "Here they come." She beams at the candidates as they make their way onto the sands. Niyath rears up and gives a trumpet of welcome. Never a particularly broody queen, she seems deighted to finally be at the end of egg sitting. On the sands, Leyon steps out onto the sands. Seramara drags her cousin and sister over to near Zahava, still chattering. "Just clap and cheer whenever anyone Impresses. I've met most of the Candidates, and they're really nice--Caeleb! Tirien! Go both of you! Get bronzes!" All she needs is pompoms. On the sands, Vendelin's casually still pinning his hair back, his fingers setting the remainder of the clasps in place so his oily locks are away from his acne-pocked face in the short term at least. "You could at least share some of that sunshine, shards," he calls back to Salarios. He whistles softly, patting the fresh run of sweat from his palms, then dips his torso in a bow. On the sands, R'us looks over at Lexiana, his expression shifting from disgruntled to alarmed. "Uh," he replies, then furrows his brows as if he thinks she might be a little off her rocker. "Do I have a choice?" On the sands, Kailai steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Rachele steps out onto the sands. On the sands, Andikola steps out onto the sands. No pompoms for C'len, nor a short skirt, but he does have a grin on his lips as he watches the candidates stream onto the sands. He's settled into one of the seats somewhere in the middle, lifting a hand to wave now and again as familiar faces from elsewhere crowd into the galleries, once the hum of the dragons has spread. On the sands, Chihanne steps out onto the sands. A certain Igen greenrider is oblivious to the approaching Reaches bronzerider. Delu, for her part, guides Kali towards some open seats, with plenty of room around them. As she passes Zahava, she offers a small smile and wave of greeting to the Istan. As they settle down, Delu looks out over the candidates with a grin. She points to Tirien, "That's my aunt's brother's son, there. A shame to see him go to Fort, I guess, but I'll hope for him nonetheless.. On the sands, Tirien steps forward, rubbing his fingers nervously over the palms of his hands. He steps between Salarios and Vendelin, murmuring, "Good luck to you both," before making his bow to Niyath and Soldreth. On the sands, M'yr beams with delight as he nods to the Assistant Weyrlingmasters, his whole being proud as he can be. "It's so hard to believe the time is here so soon!" Soldreth strikes a pose, then warbles to the emerging Candidates. Heracle walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Heracle has arrived. Jenufa grins at Seramara, her eyes scanning shoulder knots with a subtle, practiced eye. Spying Zahava's she makes her way over to introduce herself. "Good evening, headwoman. The Harper Hall's duties to Fort Weyr, to her queens and to her candidates. I'm Master Jenufa." On the sands, Kailai steps onto the sands, jaw dropping in awe before she remembers her manners and approaches Niyath and Soldreth. "Quite a good day for all." She muses as she bows to the dam and sire. Then she searches those already on the sands. "Hey, where's Caeleb?" She wonders. Draila walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Draila has arrived. On the sands, Mind Over Madness Egg jerks with several internal spasms, this flurry of activity from within just enough to send the ovoid rolling and spinning until it settles into a plowed path that circles the mound of yet-to-be-hatched eggs. Hairline cracks wander up the nine distinct blotches of color upon its shell, dangerously close to each other. It waits, biding its time for the final course of action that will finally end this captive nonsense. On the sands, Reighley and her older brother bow shakily in unison, the girl clinging to Treizen's arm tightly as they enter the sands together. Both of them look quite nervous, though Reighley more so as she fidgets around and keeps glancing all around, at the eggs, at the clutch parents, at the galleries. On the sands, Kalen follows the procession, though he mingles somewhere in the middle and pauses to give a polite bow to the queen and sire. He actually does a fairly good job of it, too. He then gives a roll of his eyes towards Soldreth at his pose-striking, and looks for Rachele. "Stand with me, would you?" He asks, and then leans a little closer to insist, "Not too close to Vendelin though, okay?" On the sands, Salarios comes behind Vendelin, nearly bowling him over when the Ven stops to bow. Salarios looks over towards the clutch parents, lifting his hand in a wave before he steps around Vendelin, "Have you ever been to Ista?" he asks as if the eggs weren't before him and rocking already. Eyes flash back over towards Tirien, "Yeah. Make sure you jump out of the way if you see one charging..." though that point is moot as he picks a spot in the sands, crossing his arms as the heat wave already starts to make his sweaty skin dry. On the sands, Andikola's expression relazes a little at Soldreth's warble and she castes a quick glance over her shoulder into the galleries. That glance doesn't find her parents or brothers yet but she returns her attention to the eggs in front of her, bowing to the dragons on the sands nearby. Draila quietly enters and heads straight towards the railing to look down below to the hotsand, the eggs, and the Candidates. "Good luck.." She murmurs. Kalliope clings close to Delu's side and looks out at the candidates standing on the sand. Her knee bounces with the excitement and nervousness. "What am I supposed to do exactly?" she asks nervously before jumping a bit in her seat as a rocking egg catches her eye. "Do they always move like that?" On the sands, Lexiana snorts at as first the gold then the bronze make their presence know. "You did a good job Soloderth. They are fine looking eggs that are about to be fine looking hatchlings." Turning to R'us, she chuckles. "Welcome to the world of weyrlingmaster, for the next six months your time isn't yours." On the sands, Rainbow Brite Egg starts to quiver in its little dimple on the sands. First one end jerks, then the other, then the whole egg seems to vibrate for a moment before the cycle starts again. The actions slowly dig it a nice path away from the rest of the clutch, giving it plenty of room to hatch when the time comes. On the sands, Caeleb isn't hard to locate, even as he's rather stuck to one place near the front edge of candidates. He doesn't even do the hot sands shuffle, his attention rapt upon the rocking eggs. On the sands, A flurry of activity forces attention toward the Velcro Egg. There seems to be a battle going on within as the egg shakes violently to and fro. As suddenly as it started, the shaking stops and the egg falls quiet. Slowly cracks appear on the top and a tiny green nose pops through the top of the shell. In no time the young female has worked herself a hole large enough to climb out of, which is exactly what she tries to do. Unfortunately for the gooey little green, she, along with her shell, topple over, landing her face first in the Sands with wings sprawled out awkwardly. Creeling pitifully, she methodically rights herself and shakes at the sand stuck to her sticky hide. With a huff, she decidedly walks directly to a strong looking lad from Igen River Hold and puffs up at him demandingly. He cries out her name with a surprised hiccup and begins to brush the sand from her, Impression is made. Zahava lifts her hand to Delu as she catches sight of the greenrider, and gives Seramara and her cousin a welcoming smile. Her attention swings around, though as she catches Jenufa's approach out of her corner of her eye. She rises politely from her seat. "Welcome," she says politely. "Fort Weyr's duties to Harper Hall. I am Zahava, Headwoman Nananthia's Assistant." "Well, well, if it isn't one of my favorite Igen greenriders!" R'hin greets Delu effusively, as if they've met by some leap of coincidence. With a quick glance at the sands to gauge the imminence of the first egg cracking, he indicates a seat, waiting for Harley to proceed him, courteous to the extreme. "And is that... Kalliope?" he peers past Delu, in surprise. On the sands, Kiveily shuffles onto the Sands, looking out over the eggs and then out at the audience with a dubious glance. She keeps on shuffling, though, right up until she's near the little group that Salarios, Vendelin, and Tirien have formed. "Ain't this something," she remarks by way of greeting, tone so dry as to approach sarcastic. Harley nods, casting a quick glance at R'hin. Smiling she nods. "Lead on then." she says agreeably, stepping to one side to let a younger child dash by to reach her parents. On the sands, Tirien grins, setting his feet slightly apart. "Don't worry. I don't intend to get run over by a hatchling tonight." He gives a shout as the first Impression is made. "Green!" On the sands, Kailai gasps at the green. "Oh she's so cute!" She coos as she finds Caeleb. "Hey." She says simply as she stands next to him to keep a wary eye on the eggs. "This is gonna be quite some day huh?" She asks with a low chuckle. Her hands tremble slightly as she watches the green impress. On the sands, When Reighley ascertains there aren't any hatchings just yet, she takes another deep breath and gathers herself visibly, studying the other candidates. Finally, tugging her brother along awkwardly beside her as she edges sideways toward Vendelin. Well, until that first egg cracks. At once, she freezes, green eyes widening as she stares at the green. "Oh. No," she says, quite distinctly. Treizen only looks green himself. On the sands, As the first egg breaks open and impression is made, Jenna applauds for the former Igen River hold lad. "Green first, M'yr. I bet brown. Ah well." On the sands, Leyon steps sharply onto the Sands, bowing to the gold and bronze dragons before him almost as soon as his booted feet hit their warmth. He has neither glance nor wave for the galleries; no, this one is all eyes on what's going on in front of him. The first Impression comes so suddenly that he has time only to glance at the clutch before it's happening. As though it galvanizes him to action, he makes a beeline for his place among the candidates. His motivating factors in settling in amongst his peers appear to be twofold: to stay near the back, and to stay as far from Kiveily as possible. On the sands, Rachele is still fussing with her hair when she steps out onto the sands, and her curtsey to the sire and dam is delivered with fingers entangled with strands. A helpless puff of air is uttered against the heat, brow furrowed as the ordeal's just begun and already it's whirling by. Kalen seems to surprise her in being at her side, eyes round as she regards the boy. "Oh.." A moment later, she gathers herself, and manages a smile even though she's already beginning to sweat. "Certainly." Further sentiments are cut off by the sudden initiation of Hatching. The girl's hands go to her mouth, and she watches in stunned silence. On the sands, The Rainbow Bright Egg quivers with what, in a human anyway, could be termed excitement. It goes on for several long seconds until suddenly the cracks that had been forming all but explode outward. Standing in the remains of his shell is the Insightful Streaked Blue Hatchling. A stray bit of egg apparently stuck to the top of his head, he shakes it but to no avail. His annoyed and plaintive cry rings across the sands. On the sands, Insightful Streaked Blue Dragonet A vibrant, even blue shades most of his broad shouldered, large winged body. It is the color of the deepest seas at the height of summer with only one minor deviation. Flowing down his neck and back from his head, at a point centered between the eye ridges, are slivers and streaks of slate and pale sky blue. Sometimes difficult to see, they set him apart upon close inspection. Thick of body and long of wing there is no doubt he will be a large specimen of his color. His 'sails are slightly lighter than the rest of him, lacking the grayish streaking of his neck and back. The spars, however, are again the color of his body with just glimmers of spinner-web fine lines seen here and there, like the first gray hairs one might catch as one grew older. Sturdy, stocky legs must be a throwback to his ancestors, for he has none of the streamlined grace of sire or dam. Jenufa smiles warmly at Zahava, crossing her hand with hers. "Thank you, Zahava. It's a pleasure." She spies Draila's entrance as well but waits a bit to introduce herself, since the eggs have begun to hatch. On the sands, Vendelin sidelongs a glance toward Tirien, then up toward Salarios, a short quick shake of his head though he doesn't dissuade the unbidden candidate from his position. A quick glance for Reighley, noting her location with a nod, just in case she needs another hand to cling to. He almost manages to nod to Kiveily and answer Sal with a "No, not yet. Like to see it one--shell of the great egg. This'll be over in a few breaths. Maybe we won't sweat, or stink, too bad." Cynara mmms. "Green first. 'Course, most of the time it is." She glances around, eyes seeking for anyone she knows, and then her attention is on the rocking eggs. "Have to tell M'yr, Soldreth's spawn look healthy." On the sands, Chihanne follows the others out onto the ground, her expression one of nervousness mixed with anticipation. Clinching her hands slightly at her sides, she forces her hands to unclench as she makes her own bow as well. The action is more boyish than feminine in the way that she pulls it off. When she straightens, a wistful smile has begun quirking at the girl's lips as she watches the first impression. On the sands, M'yr shoves his hands into his pockets, a smug grin turned toward the Weyrwoman. "I have to admit, that won me two marks! Should have placed more wagers though." Kalliope looks up quickly as she is recognized. "Yeah... Hi R'hin." her eyes drop immidiately to his neck before smiling and looking back up as the first impression happens. "Oh! Look!" she says pointing before blushing dark and plopping back into her seat. Delu nods, giving another reassuring squeeze, "Just relax and enjoy the show. Yeah, they will move a lot before they eventually pop open and show us the dragons." And then a voice, all-too-familier, causes a squeak and a hard tightening of Delu's hand. She offers R'hin a polite smile. "I'm surprised to still be able to claim that honor, all things considered. I'd figured you'd be as unhappy with me as everyone else is. How are you doing, R'hin?" Harley, with him, is given a polite nod as well. Jenufa applauds as a new blue bursts into the world. "Huzzah!" she cries. On the sands, The Mind Over Madness Egg splits along a combination of blotchy reds. A clawed limb pokes out, and then a Burning Torches Bronze Dragonet slithers free from the shell. On the sands, Burning Torches Bronze Dragonet Through the abyss of evening's darkness that denote the final vestiges of lost light, the morning's illumination casts fiery finger-patterns of reflection that dot the lean sides of this deeply rich, reddish-bronze hatchling's bulk. Copper and russet mark his hide along those stocky legs and slender neck respectively - long, thin tendrils of woven color that terminate in a burst of sassy metallic-red flame. Jeweled eyes are widely set into his dusky head, headknobs mounted upon a shapely muzzle to apex his neck. Twilight is defined along his strong back and haunches, dismissing itself into completion at the juncture of his tail. Once again, the flame ignites in dark ruddy hues to extend the length of his long tail, culminating abruptly at the fork. Capturing night's shroud, his wings glimmer with those same coppery highlights to press away the nightfall, tracing a vibrant path from leading edge to trailing tips. On the sands, Caeleb reaches absently for Kailai's hand, threading his finger with hers. "It's s-so different from here!" He proclaims, then gasps breathlessly at yet another hatching. "L-look!" A blue! On the sands, Kailai squeaks and points to the blue that's just emerged. "Oh! Isn't he cute!" She asks, pointing to the blue. "Look CAeleb! A blue, and he's just so bright!" She gasps, "And a bronze! Great faranth! A bronze!" This coming at the same time as Caeleb's exclamation about the blue. Kailai blushes slightly as her hand is grabbed though. Zahava waves her hand to the empty space on the bench next to where she had been sitting. "If you don't have a place to sit yet, Master Jenufa, please, take this one," she says. There is a slight hint of distraction in her voice as she glances down towards the sands, and she looks back with an apologetic smile. "I have a sister on the Sands today." On the sands, Jenna slips an arm through M'yr's. "Good, you can buy me something at the fair later - Aha! A blue, and bronze! Excellent. I was hoping for three out of Soldreth." She gives her Weyrleader an arch look, clearly amused. On the sands, Salarios considers Kiveily as she slides up towards the group, a smirk acknowledging her presence let alone her tone of voice. "I'm already sweating good, but that was from the run Tirien and I made from the fair grounds all the way to the candidate barracks." Eyes snap towards the sand proper, his hands dropping at his sides when he notices a few dragonets already hatched, then to Kiveily he comments, "At least we get a front seat.. view?" R'hin's lips purse briefly, not unaware of Kalliope's shift of attention, slight tip of head speaking curiousity. However, the girl's quick change of subject is allowed, gaze flicking to the sands as he takes a seat next to Harley. "All things considered," he answers Delu easily, "It's none of my business what you choose to do, so I can hardly claim affront over something that doesn't concern me. I'm well-- Harley, you know Delu and Kalliope?" he introduces, attention flicking to the sands with a grin at the sight of a bronze. On the sands, Kalen isn't standing as close as some star-struck candidates, in fact he seems to prefer to stand a bit out of the way. He reaches for Rachele's hand to drag her along with him, and attempting to give her little choice in the matter - but then, she's gaping at the dragonets. He nearly jumps out of his hide when the eggs start popping and limbs start poking out, furrowing his brows deeply and then finding himself a good spot to stand. Leaving enough room to hopefully dodge out of the way of any confused dragons. On the sands, Reighley moves more quickly this time, seeking to get her nest made before anymore hatchlings put in an appearance. Quickly, she moves to Vendelin's side, reaching to twine her free arm tightly with his, Treizen still attached to the other. "You said you'd stand with me," she reminds the older man then, biting her lip. "It's really fast. I didn't think it'd be like this," the girl confides, staring again at the latest two hatchlings. On the sands, M'yr leans down to plant a light kiss on Jenna's cheek, then an arm lowers to swat her on her behind playfully. "He'll do well, you can, uh, bet on it!" is replied with a bright smile. On the sands, Andikola casts one more glance at the galleries, still unable to locate her family. Turning back to the eggs and her fellow candidates, she shifts to the other foot out of nerves. Standing somewhere near Kiveily, she murmurs "It does happen all at once." as her eyes start to dart around, trying to see everything all at once as well. Jenufa seats herself beside Zahava with a grateful nod. "Thank you." A glance out at the sands, "Oh, so exciting!" On the sands, R'us does the 'snort and shrug' routine, then is distracted by the need to do the 'collect and herd' routine with the freshly impressed green and her new rider. Only when that first pair is safely stowed in the area designated for new weyrlings does the young assistant-weyrlingmaster return to scowl some more. On the sands, Kailai turns to Caeleb. "So did your folks come at all? I didn't see mine in the galleries when I came out, but they could just be late." She says with a shrug. One eye still flicks towards the dragonets as she peers around the grounds again. On the sands, Lexiana watches as the first impression of the night is made. Moving toward the lad and his green, the woman nods to another one of the weyrlingmaster had he takes them off the sands. The blue and the bronze get a quick look at but as she already has a lifemate, much like the hatchlings, her focus is on the candidates. "This is Zahava. She's here from Igen as a guest." At least Seramara doesn't say any more than that, she's too excited to go into detail. "And there's goldrider Draila--good evening, goldrider! These are my sister Sennetra and my cousin Donnic, they came all the way from the Healer Hall to watch the Hatching. Oh, *look*!" Now she can be silent, staring raptly at the stumbling dragonets and her friends. On the sands, Tirien doesn't appear to have caught the look between Vendelin and Salarios in regards to his presence. A thin trickle of sweat makes its way down the side of his face as he unconsciously steps away from the pair, mindful of his feet and the ruts in the sand. "Shards, this stuff does get hot..." On the sands, Burning Torches Bronze Dragonet fidgets out of the shard remains of its discarded home to test these whatever-you-call-its that stick out beneath him. A lean this way, an angle that way bring him to an upright stance, pausing there to peer at his new world and that circle of white humanthings. An inner sense of purpose guides him forward with the sole purpose of reaching them quickly. It would attain that goal, were it not for a hollowed depression in the sand, the physical remains of a splintered egg left abandoned so recently. Fwoomp. A quick burst of air is exhaled quickly from the surprised dark bronze form as contact is made with the ground. How rude! On the sands, Jenna laughs at M'yr. "Careful, I'll overbalance." She fusses with her dress with her free hand. She calls towards R'us, fully expecting not to be heard over the chaos, "Oh, for Faranth's sake, smile a little, R'us. Remember Lindith finding you." On the sands, Caeleb can only answer Kailai with a half turn of his head. "I didn't g-get to see.. I th-think so?" He doesn't even try to look out at the galleries, eyes only for eggs and hatchlings. Kalliope has turned rapt attention to the dragons now hatching all over the place on the sands. "Delu, look!" she says, pointing this way and that. At R'hin's question, she shakes her head and shifts back so she's slightly hidden behind Delu. She can't stay there though as the chaos on the sands raptly grabs her attention. On the sands, Kiveily jerks a belated bow to Niyath and Soldreth, hands lifting to slide into pockets that aren't there, and then falling back to her side. There isn't any enthusiasm here. Instead, as the first Impression occurs, and two more hatchlings fall out of their shells, a distinct scowl marches across her features. "Dunno about you," she remarks to Salarios, "But I like my front row views nice and comfortable. No piping sand, small dragons approaching..." In spite of the bluster, she has a smile for the nearby Andi, brief, but there. On the sands, Insightful Streaked Blue Dragonet is not happy, and it shows. His little eyes whirl red with displeasure and hunger, and nobody is helping him! He tries once again to shake off his eggshard cap, to no avail. He starts to stagger around the Sands, narrowly avoiding the other eggs and his clutchsibling, looking for something. He's not sure what it is, but he'll know when he sees it. Harley tears her attention away from the sands and looks around. "I'm not sure. I might have seen Delu" and she nods politely "a little while back, but I'm not sure." Turning her attention to Kalliope, she adds "I don't know if we met either. I'm terrible about that. Were you at Reaches when R'hin impressed?" she asks either or both of the two. On the sands, Leyon, who's already toward the back of the crowd, gives Kalen a sort of half nod as he approaches. "Watch out," he informs the lad while Rachele is pulled closer. "I hear they sometimes barge through whole clumps of candidates to get where they want." To the girl he adds, "The way these things are hatching, left, right, an' center, I don't think you'll have to worry about this thing taking too long." Delu nods slightly to R'hin. "Yes, well, doesn't stop most people from having an opinion. But it's nice to see you." And to Harley, "And to meet you, ma'am, though I'm unsure if we have before." Kali grabs her then, and she shifts her focus with a smile, "Yes, it's very chaotic. I think my head about exploded when I was out there, I'd never even /seen/ a hatching before." A soft laugh. "It's so chaotic to watch." On the sands, Kailai's face turns into a smile for the night. "Relax Cae, take a deep breath. Though I'm one to talk." She grins as she peers at the blue. "Man, he does /not/ look happy." She points to the little dragonet shaking about. "Wow... but he's so cool!" On the sands, Vendelin can't help it: as Caeleb speaks, he echoes, "Ll-look, a b-bl-blue," in a meanspirited imitation of his fellow candidate that is more lowly whispered among the group where he stands. Then Reighley's there. His eyes twitch at the edges, then he accepts her presence and pats her arm, still scanning the sands. "It is quick, Reigh. You're doing great. Leastaways, you've got better footing than him," comes as one of the dragonets tumbles over. On the sands, Rachele blinks mutely as she finds herself being tugged from the spot she'd rooted in. This suits her fine, her eyes kept on the body of hatching eggs as she shuffles along, expression less awed and more stricken with empirical interest. She hisses when some sand grazes her toes, and looks down at her feet to monitor her steps. Once Kalen's stopped leading her along, she tugs to take her hand back, smiling sheepishly as she wipes it on her robe. "Sorry, it's...kind of clammy," she explains, lest the boy think she's trying to be antisocial for drawing her hand away. She watches the newly hatched dragons, and lets Leyon's words sink in. "They do seem to be..rather ungainly. I still like my raised dais idea," she reiterates, frowning as a lank strand of hair falls by her cheek, freed from her hasty 'do. On the sands, Chihanne brushes her sweaty hands off against the fabric of her robe as she watches. She doesn't seem nearly as talkitive as the others and steals a glance off towards the galleries as though looking for someone momentarily before she returns her eyes to the hatching. The sight of the blue stumbling around with his eggshell cap draws a chuckle from the girl. Zahava takes her own seat, and glances towards Seramara. "Ista," she corrects with an amicable smile for the cousin before she turns back to find Chihanne on the sands. Once she's spotted the slim young blonde, she points her out for Jenufa. "The one there is my sister." On the sands, Kalen scrunches his nose at Leyon, "I only have to run faster than the slowest candidate, you know." He says with a wink, and then lets go of Rachele's hand when she tugs it away - he's not going to hold it any longer than she wants. He wipes his own hands against his robe, and then through his hair where the darkness of it is absorbing far too much of the warmth for his own comfort. "It's so hot out here. Miserable..." He mutters, more to himself, and keeps a steady gaze on the blue who's fumbling about. Draila tears her gaze away from the hatching below when she hear's her name, a quick nod being her reply before her attention returns to her former charges below. She never wished to appear distracted or rude in her demure acknowledgement of the greeting but she is distracted enough to appear so. "Oh, if I'd an opinion I'd have voiced it. I'm hardly one to hold back," R'hin replies casually to Delu. "But like I said, it's none of mine." He seems undaunted by Kalliope's shyness, leaning forward a little to peer past Delu at her, "First time?" he guesses, attention seemingly more on his companions than the action on the sands for the most part. On the sands, R'us is incapable of smiling. Well, there's plenty of evidence to that effect today, anyway. Even the sight of the new blue and burning bronze don't cheer him; if anything he watches them even more warily from his safe distance. He mumbles something half-beneath his breath, perhaps a reply to the weyrwoman (he does glance her way as if he suspected her of speaking to him), but all that really carries is 'you'd hafta ask _her_ anyway.' Kalliope shifts, her attention split between the sands and the few people sitting with her. Her eyes dart to the necklace, smiles again, then up to R'hin's face over to Harley, "Nice... nice to... to meet... meet you..." she says softly, likely lost in the noise of the gallery. Finally she turns her attention back to the sands once she has decided it isn't rude to look again. On the sands, Lexiana chuckles as Jenna gets on R'us. "It is his first time, Jenna, he hasn't learn to go with the flow yet." Keeping a watchful eye out on the sands, the woman begins to pace back and forth trying to keep pace with those hatchlings that are still looking for their lifemates. On the sands, "That's not very nice," Reighley tells Vendelin with a frown, her brows knitting as she glances sternly up at him in return for his mockery of Caeleb. "He was nice. He did my hair just now." She leans around her brother to glance at the other boy then, offering one of her shy smiles his way before she turns back to the conversation at hand. "I feel bad for him, too," she admits, watching the hatchling stumble about. "I hope they figure it out soon. Walking, I mean. It's harder than it looks," is her sage input on that. On the sands, Burning Torches Bronze Dragonet tucks, scrambles, sends light sprays of sandy granules into the air about it as long, insecure pinions lift that bulk to an upright position. Sparkling orbs peer and sweep along the row of not-so-white robes. Hmm. Might as well see who's there! Away he goes, as fast as he can, heading for the circle of white robes. Right there. In front. Perfect. As always. Yes. On the sands, Salarios eyes Vendelin's mocking of candidate Caeleb, a sneer showing on his lips as he shakes his head, "I just hope karma doesn't bite you where it counts Ven," he rocks his weight to one foot, watching the two dragons as carefully as he can, keeping track of their path to make sure it isn't coming towards him. He takes the time out to regard the riders on the other side of the sands, the weyrleaders and the weyrlingmasters. Though to Kiveily he nods, "True, better up there," he throws a thumb over his shoulder towards the gallery, "than down here. I do enjoy the heat though." On the sands, Hip 2 B Square Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, Caeleb's lips pinch together. "I h-have just as m-much a chance!" he declares fervently. He doesn't give Vendelin the benefit of a look. On the sands, Tirien tosses a dark look over his shoulder at Vendelin, but simply shakes his head and turns his attention back to the eggs and the dragonets milling about. More sweat starts to bead up on his forehead, which he wipes off with the back of his arm. On the sands, Kailai shakes her head. "Caeleb, ignore him. He's not worth your time." She says with a roll of her eyes. "But would you look at that bronze, strutting his stuff like he knows what he wants!" She says with a glint in her eyes. "He's going to be a strong one." On the sands, Kiveily falls in between Salarios and Andi, and though she makes sure to be at least a half-step behind, she keeps clear enough to avoid making a clump. Besides, a hatching is no excuse to turn into a ninny. So her frown deepens and her fingers flex, hankering after pockets. Though Ven's jibes earn no comment from her, they do earn Salarios a jibe. "Aww, gotten soft?" A pause, a shuffle, and, "Don't tell me it's this hot in Ista. Or Igen. Or wherever you're from." Leyon, for once, has succeeded in avoiding her notice. For the moment. On the sands, Hip 2 B Square Egg shudders, rolling and bumping away from the neat pile Niyath had tucked it into. It stops, and then spins wildly in a half circle. Another stop, this one longer, much, much longer, and it actually gives a little 'hop' off the sands, only an inch or so, but noticable. Then, another long, long pause. It's almost too much effort to go through. Delu simply nods again to R'hin, and turns her own gaze back to the sands, "Needs more blues, Boskyth says." On the sands, Leyon echoes Rachele faintly, disbelievingly, "Raised dais?" Then, between keeping his eye on the miniature dragons stumbling about, "Surely you ain't saying you're so important that they should /build/ you a stone platform so you poor little feet don't burn?" He tosses Kalen a pitying glance for having taken up with such a girl. As for Kalen's suvival plan, though, "Not a bad idea. Let's tie her feet together so it's her." Yes, he's definitely talking about Rachele. On the sands, Insightful Streaked Blue Dragonet tries to dodge a rolling egg from the clutch, and has to wave his wings wildly to stay upright. This sends egg goo everywhere, and helps dry them out. He pauses to look at the humans again and aims for another direction, away from this big gold and bronze blurs. Too scary-looking! On the sands, Lexiana frowns at R'us as she moves closer to the younger man. "She would say that," R'hin murmurs, though there's amusement in his voice as he replies to Delu, pale eyes shifting back to the sands with a twitch of lips. Jenufa cheers the graceful maneuvering of the fine little blue! On the sands, "I _am_ going with the flow," growls R'us, tossing a reproachful glare toward Lexiana. Then he tightens the cross of his arms over his chest as she comes closer, a muscle straining tension in his jaw. On the sands, Kailai rolls her eyes at Leyon and explains. "She wanted to make a platform, with ramps on the sides I think, to keep us from burning our feet." She tells the youth. "Aw, that blue's pretty active isn't he?" She asks, pointing. On the sands, Andikola glances around to see who she's near though she doesn't check towards the back to see if anyone is behind her. She's shifting again from foot to foot. "I don't think it's this hot anywhere except on another hatching ground." she offers, watching the blue, the bronze, and the other eggs still on the sands. On the sands, Caeleb draws himself up to his full height (which isn't all that tall), chin jutter proudly despite the teasing he's taking. There just might be an egg on the sands with his name on it. Besides, even if there isn't, the girls like him, right? He bends his head to whisper good luck to Kailai. On the sands, Vendelin rolls his eyes as Reighley, then Salarios chastise him. "Bite me? I'm not going to develop a spontaneous stutter. He could likely get over it if he tried, had some harper training," is with a shrug as he raises a hand to sheild his eyes from raining down sand. "Like father, like son," is his observation. "Tossing sand everyplace. Sal, is Ista hot like this? Don't think I could tolerate it if so." Delu grins over to R'hin, "We're a pair of simple needs and tastes." She giggles softly, "Though, Boskyth might have to break down and try a brown someday. Two Flights, two Blues so far..." On the sands, Kalen manages to get a glop of egg goo on him, and rather than going 'ewww', he instead just lifts a hand to wipe it off and toss it on the sand. "Fried egg shards, and flying goop, just great." He grumbles, and scrunches his nose - clearly displeased. He then smirks at Leyon and nods, "Well, I don't think we have enough time for that - watch out." He says, pointing off to where the dragons are bumbling about. On the sands, Burning Torches Bronze Hatchling forges ahead with all the fervor and excitement of a Search and Rescue dragon on a mission. Paddling furiously along the ring of Candidates, sand spewing from under his talons in his haste, the hatchling's exploration continues until he pauses before a pale skinned lad. That dark muzzle flicks outward, gently aimed at the lad, providing just a smidgen of a jolt to his body, while whirling eyes connect with Kalen's almond-shaped greys. On the sands, Reighley shifts from foot to foot, grimacing as she glances down at the hot sands then. "You know what?" she suggests after a moment. "I should put one foot on yours--" a nod toward Vendelin's feet "--and one on yours, Trei. And then I won't be hot anymore!" She beams at the two boys, nothing short of hopeful and innocent; Treizen, however, is immune to such looks from little sisters; he only rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, suck it up and watch the hatching, Reigh." She sniffs disdainfully but does just that, returning attention to the hatchlings now roaming the sands, after one last reproving, "Don't go being ugly /now/, Vendelin." On the sands, The Hip 2 B Square egg seems to give up. It's far too much bother to hatch. Prepare for the worst and you're never disappointed. It stills its shuddering, cracks veined all across the pale surface. Apparently, preparing for the worst was just the trick, for the egg all but falls apart along the strip of dark charcoal, breaking apart in two even halves, leaving a rather mournful looking Brown dragonet on the sands. On the sands, Dolorous Spraddle-legged Brown Dragonet His coloring is pure fawn, unblemished by any other shading on haunch or wingsail. It is positively flawless, bringing to mind tea with cream, a rich feast for the eyes spread from muzzle to tail-tip. Alas, it's the only thing about him that can be called either gorgeous or ideal. His muzzle is narrow and aquiline, with eyeridges standing out in sharp, rocky relief over sunken eyes. They are quite large and expressive, providing the only leavening of austere gloom sketched across his spare frame. Gangly and awkward, his limbs are long and stick-thin. It is a wonder they can support his weight. His body would be in good proportion to his limbs, were they more normally muscled, but round belly and muscular haunches make him seem far shorter than he is. A razor thin tail and sharp wingspars stretch out from his squat trunk, further heightening the impression that he is naught but limbs and tail. On the sands, Lexiana frowns at R'us as she moves closer to the younger man."Is everything okay?" She whispers at him, her voice is caring and as soft as her words. Giving the younger greenrider concern look, though it looks a bit funny as she attempts to keep one eye on him and another on the hustle. R'hin's lips twitch as he glances sidelong at Delu, tone dry, "Not a bronze?" On the sands, "Gotten soft?" Salarios scoffs at the idea, "of course not. Though I do see the difference between a person who can't help it and a smuck who can." Salarios shrugs his shoulder at Kiveily, "On the black sands of Ista? Oh yeah, it can get just right hot. Especially during the summer," he pauses to add in after though, "of course the ocean is just right there so one can cool down and all that." Again he nods to Ven, "Can get hotter," he puts out his arm, "how'd you think I got so brown?" He smirks, watching the procession of hatchlings. On the sands, Kailai bends her head back. "good luck to you too." She whispers. But her eyes are glued to the two dragonets, even when she turns her head her eyes stay on the active hatchlings, the blue and the bronze, and now the brown. "Aw man, that brown looks lonely." She pouts as she points to it. Seramara is abashed for point seven seconds. "Ista, right. I'm sorry, Zahava." Abashment over, fascination resumes. "Oh look, look, I think the bronze just chose!" Delu shudders. "We can hope not." Her eyes widen a bit, and she laughs loudly. "Boskyth says that any bronze small enough and fast enough to catch her is welcome to try, but she's not met any up to the task." Jenufa nudges Zahava gently, pointing with excitement toward the sands, "It looks as if the bronze has made his choice!" Kalliope's head is reeling. She unconciously reaches to hold onto Delu's arm. She doesn't miss the interchange between the two riders. But just as she looks back at the sand the bronze impresses, "Look! The bronze!" she says, pulling on Delu's arm. Her eyes dart to R'hin once more before looking back at the sand. On the sands, R'us says "Everything's fine!" R'us' reply is a little too emphatic, really. "S'just, y'know, uh. I'm afraid one of them's gonna - oh, F'ranth's fine fat far end, there's another one. Do they have to come so fast?"" Zihsa walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Zihsa has arrived. On the sands, Chihanne frowns and glances down the ranks of other candidates as some of their conversation floats her way. But she does not let them distract her long from the action on the sands, and she looks back in time to see the brown spill forth from his egg. "Awww." She laughs in spite of herself as she looks at the creature. "Shame," R'hin drawls, though it's pretty obvious he's only teasing at this point, "Leiventh's too large. He doesn't have much of an interest in greens, anyway, so I suppose the question is moot." Kalliope's reaction draws his attention back to the sands, and he grins. "Ha! Nice." He claps his hands briefly at the impression, eyes glittering. On the sands, Dolorous Spraddle-legged Brown Dragonet just sits for a moment. Woah. It's big out here. He blinks his eyes, and then shakes egg goo off. Hot. Big. Sticky. He's disinclined to move until he sorts this out. Stubbornly he sits, eyeing the white robes, the crowd in the gallery, the dragons on the ledges. Nope, not going anywhere. Delu glances back at the sands at Kali's insistance, and grins. "Yes, another pairing made well. Still, just a bronze." She glances at R'hin, "Bronzes are where they put the men not suited a brown." Tease for tease. On the sands, Unexpected Blast Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, K'len was pretty caught up in his conversation with Leyon when that bronze marched right over to him - and while he didn't try to dodge out of the way, he looks like he was about ready to. That is, until he just looks utterly shocked at the impetuous dragon. "Kalorith? No, of course I wasn't hiding, I just.. wasn't expecting." He says, and sniffles a little before he just nods and looks helplessly at the actual riders on the side, as though expecting some guidance on where to get this food to feed his new lifemate. On the sands, Jenna turns her attention back to the sands, after a few well-chosen comments in M'yr's ears. "Oh, who got that bronze? Kalen, was it?" She cranes her neck to see. "And Niyath tells me he's Kalorith. Nice ring to it." On the sands, Kiveily's head turns towards Vendelin with more interest than she's expressed in anything else the past few minutes, though it snaps back forward quickly enough. No telling when a little dragon might approach. "Vendelin's a smuck? I like that." Realizing that she's lost her frown, the corners of her mouth turn down as she attempts to re-achieve it. "I'm inclined to agree with you, Andi. He must be making it up. No sand could be hot as this on a regular day. Huh. Look at that one. It's just sitting there. Do they normally do that?" 'That one' would be the brown hatchling. Satiet walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Satiet has arrived. On the sands, Unexpected Blast Egg gives only the slightest little twitch to betray that the dragon withing is stuggling to break free of its prison. A little trickle of dry sand cascades down from the shell and it goes still again, though there must be continued work within. On the sands, M'yr's eyes are wide as he watches the developments on the sand. Glancing down to Jenna, he nods enthusiastically. "Yes, Kalen and Kal. I like that a lot!" But then he likes everything right about now. On the sands, Caeleb considers the brown sitting on his shell remains. "I d-don't know. He seems.. thoughtful." The young man says it like that's a good thing. "W-wonder who he'll pick, huh?" He smiles a touch overhearing the bit about those who can change and those who can't. On the sands, Leyon takes a quick hop-stop back when the bronze hatchling whirls right by him on the way to Kalen. "There, now you can get your dragon to eat Bayan if he ever bothers you again," he offers his fellow candidate by way of congratulations. Kailai's words cause him to shake his head in mock disappointment. "Here I am surrounded by a bunch of girls who're too 'special' to let their feet touch the Sands. Sorry, I didn't know." Sudden amusement wanders into his countenance. "Say, Rachele, now ya don't have anyone to protect you from gettin' your feet tied up 'n' left for dragon bait. What do you say?" "And what do those," R'hin asks Delu, attention shifting back to the Igen greenrider, "Who aren't -meant- to Impress, Impress to?" The question seems oddly sober for the jovial bronzerider. Jenufa gives a respectful nod and a warm smile to Satiet before returning to her cheering! On the sands, Kailai bounces up and down on her toes. "Cheers for K'len! You did it ma'an! Congrats! And Kalorith is such a cool name!" She squeaks, becoming more and more excited by the minute. "Wow, K'len got a bronze!" She squeaks. But then she notices the stubbornity of the brown hatchling. "Aw big guy, don't you want to move?" She asks him curiously, though she obviously doesn't expect him to answer. "Come on! You can do it!" She cheers to the brown. Her eyes flick tot he blue, unable to decide who to focus on. On the sands, Niyath :stops her humming encouragement, and lowers her head to push at the little brown. Oh no you don't. She is /not/ egg sitting any longer. You. Move. Now. stop being such a wet blanket. Zihsa shuffles in behind a trio of Telgar riders, leaning down to mutter something in the ear of the shortest of the group while the others look for empty spots. Sharing a quick laugh with her companion, she nods in response to one of the others, then follows them to a clear spot to grab a seat. While her friends exchange greetings with those they know, she settles in to watch, slouching forward to avoid blocking the view of anyone behind her. On the sands, Lexiana ahss as she gives the young man a reassuring pat before she moves towards Kalen, now K'len and his Kalorith. Smiling at the newly formed bronzerider, she gestures for him to follow. "Come on lets get him something to eat." On the sands, Vendelin the upper portion of his robe a few times, allowing some air circulation in. "Not if it's this hot there, I wouldn't. Even with the ocean. I like a breeze. Though I'm not used to wearing an open skirt--feel like I can hardly walk in this thing." Kiveily's echoing of the derrogative causes him to smile lopsidedly. "Maybe the brown one's affected by the heat? Think that happens to dragons?" On the sands, The Insightful Streaked Blue Dragonet sees the one he wants. Untangling himself and setting one foot carefully in front of the other, he makes his way awkwardly to a sorrel-haired girl, planting himself at her feet and looking up into her grey eyes. A churring sound escapes him as he claims his chosen one: Rachele. On the sands, Tiny cracks spinner-web the surface of the Unexpected Blast Egg, showing the stress caused by the efforts of the one trapped within. At long last these cracks give way all at once to limbs and spars and muzzle bursting through the surface, shell shattering around the earthen brown. There's a joyful scratchy creel from the dragonet at his success of breaking through. Then there's a first dizzying step which turns into a stumble, as though the cavern were too bright for his whirling eyes. On the sands, Despair You in Darkness Brown Dragonet Wrapped in a cloak of shadow, this dragon's hide is the deepest shade of earthen brown - lost in subterranean night, tunneled by hidden grubs and insistent roots. His headknobs shine like spikes of earthen ore; the near-colorless sheen that etches across his muzzle is an intricate crisscross of matte and gleam. His eyes are masked with darkness as though his expression could be hidden by hue alone, though it only serves to highlight jewel-bright tones. Powerful slabs of stone form the lines of his neck, shoulder and haunch while equally massive wingsails shimmer with veins of minerals. His jagged neckridges, the straight bones of his forelimbs and the streamlined spars of his wings have an unusual crusted appearance, as if stone and soil have been molten and wrought into metal, forged to his body as a vestige of armor. His belly is the exception to this darkness, polished to an oaken shine, perhaps revealing more prince than pauper within. On the sands, "I know him, I /know/ him!" Reighley says excitedly, hopping once and tugging on Vendelin's arm. She releases her brother's long enough to point at Kalen and his bronze, gaping. Delu frowns softly at the question. "Were I to answer filppantly, I would say firelizards. But I don't think this is a good time to be making jokes about the people who don't Impress. Be too many of them crying in a short while." She turns away then, and gives Kali a soft squeeze, "You holding up ok?" Draila's lips twitch, her only outward sign that she even sees all that goes on below as she stands stock still, her hands now gripping the repaired railing as she watches a few impressing. On the sands, Andikola's eyes go between the blue and brown until she hears K'len's voice and a smile lights her face. Her face slowly turning pink with the heat as she shifts back and forth, she shrugs at Kiveily's question. "I have no idea. This is my very first - oh, there you go. She's trying to nudge him into moving now." On the sands, Tirien smiles as K'len Impresses the bronze, stepping to the side as a hatchling charges past him. "Way to go, K'len." He catches himself from fumbling over another sand rut just as the next brown hatches. He lifts his foot to remove a piece of shell that's stuck to his sandal. Unhurried steps, mostly because of the jostle of people, carries Satiet up the stairs. There, she stills and glances around in a timely enough fashion to note Jenufa's warm smile which throws the young woman off guard enough that a bewildered smile is flashed back reflexively. But familiar faces capture her attention and through the crowd, the slight goldrider makes her way to find herself squeezing out a seat in front of Harley and R'hin. Jenufa applauds the second brown, admiring his earthy hue. "A bit like my son's lifemate," she murmurs to no one in particular. On the sands, Salarios snorts, "Ven's not a smuck. I'm saying folks who are stupid just because they are stupid. Then, you have all the rights in the world to mock them," he says lacking a bit of humour as he notices the pairing made by the bronze. "Good luck to you both if you happen to remain in Fort and ever have him as a weyrleader..." he chortles, then, watching as the blue makes his mark on the world by finding his lifemate. His eyes switch back and forth between Kiveily and Ven, "I tell you, Ista's sands are hotter. Black absorbs heat.." he quips in matter of factly. On the sands, From inside the Pink Triangle Egg a tapping can be heard. At first it's a faint, barely audible sound but soon it becomes a bit loud and frantic. As bits of Sand are shaken from the egg, the firm shell begins to give way, flaking off around the membranes inside the egg. Momentarily a wingtip pokes through, soon followed by the rest of the wing and a front leg. A rich green dragonet finds her way out, if sideways, falling roughly onto the heat of the Sands. Righting herself primly, she shakes the excess goo from her wings with a quick flutter. A quick examination of herself and she decides she's now looking well enough for public and moves out across the Sands, closing the gap between herself and a bunch of girls. Nudging her way through the group, she sits on the foot of an immaculately clad young brunette from High Reaches Hold. A hand flutters to the girl's throat as she whispers the dragonet's name in surprise, then shouts it out, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around her new lifemate. C'len makes as if he's going to lean back a little, but there's no space to, as the galleries continue to fill up. Instead he shifts a little, hunching in on himself some as his gaze lingers on the sands, flicking back and forth between the candidates and the eggs that seem to be hatching quickly. "Ah, seems to be moving along well," he says, more to himself than anyone else. On the sands, Kailai cheers as yet another brown spills forth. "Wow! Two of them! Oh come on you!" She cheers first to the despair you in darkness brown, then the leggy, sorrowful one. "You can move! I know you can!" But the darkness brown catches her eye more. She can't tear her gaze from it. "Caeleb, check him out!" She squeaks. "And there's another green too!" She points. Kalliope looks at Delu and smiles tightly. "Yeah... ok... just... a lot... a lot of people." she responds. She eyes the two bantering riders for a long moment before looking around at everyone and shifting a bit closer to Delu. Then she looks back at the sands. Yes, it's safe to look there. On the sands, K'len walks alongside Kalorith, trying to steady the bronze now and again and attempting to usher him out of the way of other hatchlings that're emerging. "Come this way, no no, move that a little less." He says pointing to the floppy wings that try to knock him over now and again. He gives a quick thankful smile to Lexiana and follows after her with the new bronze. On the sands, R'us, realizing what's transpired, sidesteps to clear the way for Lexiana to lead their newest charges - K'len and his bronze - off the main sands. He's done watching them gather themselves up and get moving only barely in time to catch sight of the new green making a speedy choice, and after a moment the youngest member of the weyrling training team trods out to gather the greenpair and lead them to food and respite from the chaos. On the sands, Vendelin's gaze goes toward the departing bronzepair as Reighley points, and his jaw sets firmly. "Him. Did I mention he hit me first? And I'm a, what did you call it, a smuck?" A groan as Salarios suggests K'len could oneday become their Weyrleader: "He'd demote me to permanent tuber peeler for sure," comes with a chuckle. "Perhaps then, I should ask you again later?" R'hin says, leaning back into his seat, eyes flickering to the sands once more. Satiet's arrival doesn't go unnoticed - particularly as she blocks his view for a moment until she takes her seat. He leans forward to murmur, "Well, if it isn't the lady of the spires," he says by way of greeting. On the sands, Caeleb's head cranes this way and that, busily trying to keep track of what is hatching and who is impressing. "Wow," he breathes at the latest. He lifts Kailai's hand to point with his own (and by default, hers) at the nudging the reluctant brown gets. Harley smiles when she spots the Reaches weyrwoman. "Hello Satiet. Glad to see you." and her attention seems to return to the sands, though she's also been listening to R'hin, Delu and Kalliope. R'hin's greeting to Satiet earns him a look. On the sands, Dolorous Spraddle-legged Brown Dragonet does /not/ appreciate being nudged like that by a gold head that is bigger than he is. He's on his feet whether he wanted to be or not. Thanks mom. Grumbling under his breath, he sets out towards the candidates, long tail trailing in the sand behind him. His head swings this way and that, along the lines, looking for the one he's supposed to find. Zahava's eyebrows arch slightly as she notices the bronxe pair departing. "One of the brawlers," she murmers under her breath, nodding to Jenufa. "That'll be interesting." On the sands, Rachele, too, moves out of the way when the bronze heads in the trio's direction. That one's assuredly not for her, and she looks over her shoulder to be sure she's not blocking it from any boys. Her fears are laid to rest when there's not only no boys behind her, but Kalen begins his one-sided conversation. Realizing Impression's been made, she claps her hands together once and utters a laugh of delight at her friend's fortune. "I say that's fine," she declares to Leyon, smile still bright. It's the churring sound that keeps her from further comment, and the mind behind the eyes suddenly regarding hers which brings the stumble of her expression from cheer to wonderment. "Rakenth..." She daren't lower herself to the sands, but does stoop to touch her lifemate's face with a surprised laugh, eyes moist. "Of course, we'll never part." Zihsa leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her attention split between comments tossed her way by her companions and the events unfolding on the sands. In response to a quick question, she nods, laughing a bit too loudly to be considered ladylike, then sits up a bit straighter, likely responding to the elbow jab from one of her group. On the sands, Jenna ohs to M'yr. "And that blue picked Rachele. Not sure what the name is. Funny, she's hold bred. I would have thought green for sure. Did you catch the name?" On the sands, Kailai waves the hand that's being held towards the more leggy brown and nods. "Look, there he goes! He's going now!" She points to the brown and then towards the blue with her other hand. "Way to go Rachele! Woooo!" She cheers happily. Delu offers Satiet a quiet smile in greeting. "Weyrwoman." is her simple greeting. To R'hin, she shrugs. "I recall all too well my friends that didn't Impress. I wouldn't expect a flippant answer there at all." Jenufa quirks a brow at Zahava, eyes twinkling merrily. "Well I'm sure he won't be Pern's very /first/ brawling bronzerider!" she titters. On the sands, Despair You in Darkness Brown Dragonet shakes his head slightly, gathering himself together as he remains perfectly still, keeping his feet under himself. For several long moments, he seems overwhelmed and unable to move at all, staring around at all the fuss and commotion with rapidly whirling eyes. On the sands, Kiveily doesn't look overly plussed by the last few impressions. Apparently she doesn't think quite badly or well enough of them to make a comment. Instead it's, "Shells. And here you made my minute by insulting Ven. Aww well." Kiveily shrugs her shoulders, letting out a little sigh. "There he goes." On the sands, Salarios snorts, "That's the truth of it you know. One day they are nothing," he gestures with his hands, "the next day the become something because of the colour of their dragon. Remind me that if I get stuck here too, to transfer if his .. what.. Kalmoar.. or something win a gold flight." Rolling his neck a hand reaches back to rub it, "but perhaps he'll turn out all right after all. And yeah, you said he hit you first." Another shrug, "Rachele there got herself attached to a blue." Idle remark. On the sands, Rakenth creels hungrily as he stares into Rachele's face. Help me, please! Primly, all too aware of her surroundings, Satiet settles herself in before tilting her face back. "High Reaches duties to Igen and her queens." Politeness is etched on the young weyrwoman's features as she flashes Delu and Kalliope slight smiles, and then turns the look, a bit more muted, onto R'hin and Harley. "If it isn't our itinerant weyrling," there's emphasis on that last. "Evening, Harley. I didn't miss much, have I?" On the sands, The Dolorous Spraddle-legged Brown Dragonet has had quite enough, thank you. It was hard enough getting out of that egg. Ghastly. And now he's expected to march up and down past lines and lines of candidates and find his one? Well, that just won't do. Sprawling in the hot sand, he gives out a mournful cry that rattles the backbone of one candidate in particular to propel him to his new lifemate. A young man with brown hair and gray/green eyes - Salarios. On the sands, Leyon's none-too-nice smile falls when Rachele Impresses. "Aww, shells. Just when it was about to get interesting." Now that a bronze and a blue have both found their candidates within mere steps of him, he decides that he has not picked the safest spot. A few steps take him back, a few more sideways, and then the sound of unusual insults pull him over to where another bunch of candidates sits. "What's this? Who's a smuck?" On the sands, R'us returns to the sands in fine time to discover yet another pairing made: Rachele's. "See, this is exactly what I was afraid of," he grouses, as if this is all very bad news indeed, and trudges across the sand to the girl and her blue. "Hey. I'm R'us. You can tell me who she is," a tip of his head to the blue, "in a while. F'now all I need to know is that she's hungry. Come this way?" And he's off toward food and peace, waiting every few steps to be sure the blue pair is in tow. Kalliope's eyes flicker to Satiet, but the crowd is getting to her and she doesn't have much to say other than offering a nervous smile. She does, however, spare a glance between her and R'hin and then to Harley, hmmm. She presses more against Delu, likely close to pushing her over at this point. She looks back at the sands and catches another pair of impressions. On the sands, "He /hit/ you?" Reighley repeats, gawking now at Vendelin, after a brief look to the blue and green that impress in turn. "You shouldn't have been fighting at all--that's against the rules." For all she's only twelve, she does quite a good mother impression already, eyeing the man with another frown before primly turning back to the hatching chaos. On the sands, Tirien raises both eyebrows as he catches Salarios' Impression. "Well, well...guess your trip around Pern stops here, Sal!" On the sands, Movie Magic Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. Jenufa cheers as one of the browns makes his pick. "Oh, look another one!" she chirps. "Nor would I, greenrider," R'hin responds, oddly formal for a beat. The look he receives from Harley earns an unrepentant shift of shoulders from the 'Reachian bronzerider, particularly in light of the title offered in turn, a tip of head acknowledging the words. "In the flesh... -ma'am-," somehow, he manages to roll that title on his tongue to drawl it out. On the sands, Movie Magic Egg begins to move as the being inside begins to battle for freedom. It rocks and stutters violently for a few moments before the darken dune colored egg falls still and silent, gearing up for the final confrontation. Harley shakes her head in response to Satiet's question. "Only two impressed before you arrived. A green and a bronze. I don't know who they impressed to. Do you?" she asks R'hin. Draila's lips twitch again as another impression is witnessed, though she hears the many voices behind her she dare not turn to look, dare not pull her gaze from the Candidates below or the hatching dragonets. Zahava quirks a wry smile and shakes her head. "Probably not," she agrees, then looks towards where the brown has chosen. "Oh, good for him. He's Istan," she approves with a warm smile. "No clue. I'm persona non grata in Fort, remember?" R'hin answers Harley with a low chuckle. On the sands, Rachele seems to register R'us's words after a little while, for she follows after the man even though she's said nothing to acknowledge him. Her exit is awkward, stoop maintained to keep a careful hand on her lifemate's muzzle, ushering him along with touch as well as murmured coaxes. "This way..there'll be food, and it'll be cool," she says, promising him the rest and filled belly as much as herself. The rest of the Sands are a blurred memory of life before Impression, already left mentally, as she now leaves it physically. On the sands, Vendelin watches the brown dragon get closer and closer, and then he's taking away his pick-on people partner. "Gah, hear that screaming?" He manages, despite the nearness of the young dragon, to half-smirk Leyon's way. "I almost was. Maybe got a respite." To Reighley, he flatly says, "It's not, I checked, but we were tasked for it anyway. Bad form or somesuch." Delu puts her arm protectiely around Kali, letting the conversation drop for the moment; R'hin is distracted by Satiet anyway, it seems. She murmers softly, "If it gets to be too much, just say son, Kali. I'll find out soon enough about Tirien if he Impresses." On the sands, Kiveily's mouth tilts into a quickly suppressed smile as Leyon's voice filters to her ears. He's too close now to avoid being noticed. "Vendelin's a smuck," she pronounces with some satisfaction. "No almosts about it. I expect you are too, so don't go feeling put out because no one called you a name." Nananthia walks up the stairs from the Bowl. Nananthia has arrived. On the sands, Salarios was listening to the conversation going on about him, only to have his track of thought clearly distracted by the mournful cry of a brown. A blink or two later and he's awkwardly shuffling forward, looking down at the brown, "My name is.. Salar-" he cuts off, pausing as he gathers his wits, "Sal'ros you say?" He puts a good face forward, not sure what to do at this moment, as if caught of guard by the brown. Kneeling down, he tries to prop the dragonet up, "You are heavy Solath, but you are a burden I can bare.." There's a look cast over his shoulder, seeing but not, taking a deep breath as he fixes himself with his new life, "Eat. We can. Over there.." he flicks his hand where the other pairs were guided. Jenufa gives Nananthia a wave, unsure of whether the headwoman remembers her. On the sands, "Well, it /should/ be," Reighley decides on the subject of the rules and fighting. She shakes her head, then knits her brows as her attention is again drawn from the hatching to the candidates, this time Kiveily in particular. "What's a smuck?" she asks her companions curiously. "Surprised they even let you in here," Satiet drawls, her voice low though sent casually over her shoulder at the Reachian pair, but more specifically for R'hin. With a toss of her loose hair, she gives the sands another glance and makes annotations on a hide that's kept close to her knees. "How is Rozhenth doing?" The question, though not directed at Delu, can only be answered by one of the Igenites and is soon followed by another turn of the weyrwoman's face to flash the two women a quizzical look. "She should be quite lumpy around the belly about now, no?" Zihsa points toward a group of candidates as she leans in to ask something of one of her friends, but the answer apparently just serves to confuse her more. The two quickly become engaged in a debate over something to do with shoes, complete with a fair bit of expansive gesturing which is hastily reined in when her elbows begin to threaten intrusion into neighboring territory. Nananthia gives a wave to Jenufa as she finally gets away to watch the hatching On the sands, Despair You in Darkness Brown Dragonet extends his left foot slowly and places it on the sand, then picks it up again, lowering his head to peer at the sand. Then the foot goes down once more and he tentatively shifts his weight onto it. His right foot lifts and moves forward, his rear left coming up and following suit as well. In a moment, he has taken a step with every foot. He pauses there at his success, head lifted with pride or simply surprise. On the sands, Andikola heaves a huge sigh that seems to come from her hot toes and glances sidelong at Kiveily. "They're still going at it?" That sidelong glance catches the dragon approaching Salarios and she freezes, eyes wide. A big grin splits her face a few seconds later and knowing he will hear her since he's nearby, she calls out "Congrats!" to the new rider. On the sands, Kailai rolls her eyes as she turns to Caeleb. "I wonder who the other brown's going to?" She wonders as she peeks around, eyes resting on the movie magic egg. "That one just went still alla a sudden. Go for it Sal'ros!" She cheers as she watches the new rider. On the sands, Movie Magic Egg shudders once more, caught between the battle of shadows and light, browns and yellows, as the internal war comes to the final head. Finally the egg abruptly falls still, and there, for mere seconds, it sits motionless before shivering one final time, splitting itself in two halves along the blue line. Between the light-side and the dark-side, a very small green hatchling sits, wide eyes staring with wonder out at this strange new world. On the sands, Valiant Frosted Forest Green Dragonet Darkened ivy flows in snow flecked waves atop this green's delicately shaped muzzle before breaking over neckridges and spreading down her solid form to her refined tail tip. A mottled mingling of frost coated ivy and pine green twists and turns down short but powerful legs and along the flanks of her shimmering hide. It finally drifts down to a darker pine at the base of her talons blending smoothly into the earthy jasmine color of her dagger-like talons. Covering the spread of her wingsails and spars is a softer olive green mixed with a sun-kissed sage which emerges in an array of endless dappling like sunlight breaking through snow covered leaves. More plump than voluptuous, she has a softness to her dark frost-tipped form and lithesome tail which reveals the promise of a more sensual figure as she matures. Despite being newly hatched, a simple timelessness shows through the clumsiness of her movements as if she is already wiser than her turns would allow. On the sands, Chihanne smiles over at those who have been chosen, watching them as they make their way off the sands with their lifemates. Taking a deep breath, the young girl seems to steal herself as she returns her attention to the rest of the eggs and her remaining fellow candidates. In fact, now that a few people have left, she decides to take a few steps closer to the remaining candidates without crowding them. On the sands, Vegetable Patch Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, Caeleb asides to Reighley, "Don't worry about s-mucks. It's j-just mean for n-no reason." He notes Sal'ros impression with a quiet murmur of congratulations. Delu nods to Satiet, "Yes, ma'am. I wouldn't say we will have long to wait until she's clutched them, a couple sevendays at most I'd think." She beams at the sands, "A green, good! World needs more of us." Harley blinks. "Err, no. Am I supposed to know about this? What did you do?" For once she doesn't look like a big sister ready to scold. She looks honestly curious. "Or is my memory failing me a-huh? Me?" She looks down at Satiet in surprise. On the sands, Solath croons appreciatively at Sal'ros, leaning on him heavily. Oh yes. His boy. His. Much better. Jenufa cheers for the new green. "Ah, greens. Love the pretty greens." On the sands, Jenna mms. "That brown..." she trails off, looking pensive. "And Salarios? Niyath says his name is Solath. Wonder if he'll be as much trouble as his sire is? He certainly likes to have things his way, doesn't he?" On the sands, Tirien moves from foot to foot as the heat of the sands starts to burn through his thin sandals. "No wonder they don't let us wear anything but these robes. It's too shardin' hot to wear anything else!" On the sands, Kiveily is pleased enough to inform Reighley, "A smuck is a nasty, no good sort of person who hasn't really any redeeming characteristics. Stupid and mean, I guess." She's got a smile for Ven to accompany this remark, though the expression quickly alters when that slow little brown approaches, and then chooses the fellow standing right by her, her eyebrows climb to the absolute limit. "Well. Who'd have thought." Kalliope shakes her head vehnimently. "No no, I want to stay!" she says, but she holds Delu's hand and offers her a bit of a smile. Distracted from the sands for a moment, she glances over at R'hin and his now two companions. She watches him intently for a moment before looking back at the sands again. On the sands, Valiant Frosted Forest Green Dragonet sits a few more moments between what use to be her entombed home, starting out at the word around her. However, the need that drives all hatchlings at their birth soon fills this tiny green forcing her up on her feet. With a suddenly unsure look about her, Valiant Frosted Forest Green turns her head towards her dam and gives a quick yet uncertain croon before heading out on her own towards those white figures in the not so distance. On the sands, Vegetable Patch Egg begins to rock slowly at first that only a bit of sand is disturbed at its base. Then the rocking intensifies making the egg roll onto its side and circle about the mound it harden in. Slowly it stops but continues to shake. Nananthia manages to swing a seat near Jenufa, "That brown that Impressed to that Istan, Salarios, I had marks that the lad would Impress." On the sands, R'us finishes guiding Rachele and her blue, turns around, and - well. There's Sal'ros and the brown. Whatever fit of nature guides them, they find their way well enough to the weyrling area, leaving the young weyrlingmaster free to cast a gaze around, then frown. "Uh, Lexi?" Apparently she stayed with the weyrlings. Apparently R'us is abandoned. A little pale panic illuminates his face, then he tries to look grouchy again. Quickly. On the sands, With eyes finally beginning to adjust, the Despair You in Darkness Brown Dragonets's steps are more sure, less stilted. He pauses on the sands, swinging his masked muzzle this way and that, swirling gaze sweeping across the white-robed candidates and quite suddenly he's hurtling towards Kiveily. Clumsy and awkward, he nearly climbs up the girl, gashing her left thigh, streaking red across her robes and then creeling in confusion and apology. Impression is made. "I snuck in," R'hin promptly provides the expected response to Satiet, smooth. "Do?" he echoes Harley. "Why, nothing. Really. A few misinterpreted words. It really wasn't my fault for once, though I won't go so far as to dob in the real culprit, since undoubtedly the blame is on me, regardless." It's kind of hard to tell if he's being plain facetious at this point. He leans forward, peering past Delu again to Kalliope, "It'll go quickly. These things always do. Are you two staying on for the feast?" On the sands, Tirien hisses in a breath as the brown slices into Kiveily before Impressing her. He makes to move toward the pair, but quickly draws back, uncertain. "That's a fine way to meet your lifemate." On the sands, Jenna ohs sharply. "That other brown! Shells, if we've told them once we've told them a thousand times - Someone get the healers over there, quick!" She gestures towards Kiveily. Zahava folds her hands together tightly, a certain tension in her body. "I've never been this nervous," she murmurs, wincing as the brown gashes his Impressee, but then her eyes return resolutely to her sister. Draila gasps as one of the Candidates is gashed by a hatchling her knuckles turning white as she grips the railing and leans over to watch more closely. On the sands, Vendelin shakes his head. "You'd have to ask Sal, and he looks busy at the moment." Tirien's given a sympathetic look, Vendelin nodding as he again pats his sweaty palms down the robe, leaving wet patches. "Though Kiv's done a pretty good summary." He seems more at ease now that the wandering dragons are no longer in the close-up, adopting a jaunty tone. "Thought I was just an unsavory type, but it seems I've been elevated to a new one." Unfortunately, he relaxed too soon, and he can't help backing away as Kiveily is bloodied. "Shells, you all right?" On the sands, Snap! Goes the Vegetable Patch Egg quite suddenly cleaving neatly in two to reveal a compact brown hatchling between the two fallen halves, the insides shockingly white against the dun-colored sand. The tiny occupant is still for a moment, curled into a neat bundle eyes tightly closed against the onslaught of light before he slowly, deliberately unfolds himself and looks around to take in his new surroundings. On the sands, Copper Teakettle Brown Dragonet This coppery brown dragon is sturdily built for strength and endurance both on the ground and in the air. Compact, he often seems far smaller than he actually is, his limbs folding together neatly in near-perfect alignment. Long of tail, he might seem disproportionate until he unfurls broad wings that restore balance to his form. The matte shades of a copper teakettle, mottled with age, pattern his hide with a give and take between a more vivid rosy hued brown and the duller haze of sooty tarnish. His muzzle is a sharp triangle set in a rounded jawline that slopes upward past sparkling eyes to a set of headknobs that taper almost to points at their tips. On the sands, Infamous Sweater Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. Jenufa winces as the girl is injured in the process of her Impression. "Ouch!" she murmurs. On the sands, Kailai shudders as the other girl is mauled. "Oh... oh oh oh..." Is her only response as she begins to tremble. Her arms are shaking fit to fall off as she spies the new rider. "Oh..." She shudders. Then the brown makes his entrance with little notice from the other girl. "Oh..." She stammers. On the sands, Caeleb's eyes widen as he witnesses Kiveily's gashing. So caught up in it is he that he misses the next hatching. His fingers tighten through Kailai's. "Oh!" On the sands, Reighley bites her lower lip, peaking back at Caeleb. "But why /is/ it mean?" she persists, cocking her head and glancing around the little cluster of candidates. "Is it a ba--oh!" She pulls back quickly, leaning against her brother as the brown looms up suddenly at Kiveily. "Oh, no! Liv, oh, no. Are you--is she--oh, no," she says quickly, looking decidedly green and unnerved before her brother tugs her in closer to him, removing attention from the mauling that he's determinedly not looking at, either. While Reighley sniffles sharply, he makes sure to keep a closer watch on the roaming hatchlings, lest their be a repeat incident. On the sands, Leyon has a hearty sigh for his circumstances, which are sad indeed. First, he's managed to end up not far enough from Kiveily. Second, yet two more Impressions have taken place right next to him. "By the Egg, I must be good luck." His response to Kiv's impression is, "Ha, you won't be tailing me around anymore. I don't even mind being a smu..." It's at this point that he realizes she's been practically attacked, and even he isn't thoughtless enough to just ignore it. "Weyrwoman's calling healers over, guess it's best if we get out of their way," he answers Vendelin's concern. On the sands, Andikola fans her face with a sweaty hand, only that fans hot air into her face. That didn't help a bit. She's hotter than ever. "This is going too fast, and it's taking forever." she decides. The brown charging towards them has her quickly stepping to the side, out of it's way but seeing the streak of red she jumps right back to where she was, ready to support Kiveily if she needs it. "Kiv!" Kalliope squeeks softly and burries her face in Delu's shoulder when the blood appears on the girls thigh. Zihsa grimaces as one of her companions, and the general reaction of people around them, direct her attention to the sands again. Another series of questions is fired off toward the others, though her attention soon drifts from the mauling and resultant reactions to the other candidates. On the sands, Chihanne winces when she sees the brown try to treat Kiveily like a jungle gym. "Oh, Kiv.." She breathes, a hand going to her mouth when she sees the red on her robe. Eyes wide, she turns to see if anyone is coming to help the pair. On the sands, Valiant Frosted Forest Green Dragonet continues to weave move about the sands and the wonders that it hold, looking more hopeful with each step. Starting at the beginning, this tiny green comes to the first group of white robe figure, giving the group an intense stare before shaking her whole body and moving on down the line. Group after group, the small green continues her quest becoming more energetic with each group. On the sands, M'yr stands on his tiptoes, one palm shielding his eyes from.. whatever. "What, Jenna? Where? I can't see a thing with all that commotion going on out there! Was that a green I just saw? Wait! Shards, do we have an accident??" At Delu's answer, Satiet nods affably, "Hopefully the clutching will go smoothly." In the process of noting down more things, it's not until a gasp draws her attention up that she notices the mauling. "Shades," she murmurs, her cheeks paling a touch and her eyes averting quickly to hide behind her into R'hin's knees. Gore, mild, bloody, or whatnot is not her thing. Delu winces at the injury, then glances between R'hin and Kali a moment. "Up to you, Kali. It's usually a good spread, but I admit the crowds in there get to /me/. I suspect you would be... Uncomfortable, to say the least." As the girl buries her head in Delu's shoulder, the greenrider rests a hand on her back. "She'll be ok, and she'll forget that injury soon enough, with her new weyrmate." On the sands, Tirien gets up the nerve and kneels down beside Kiveily. He rips the hem of his robe and moves to press it against the gash in her leg. "What's his name?" he asks her, waiting for the healers. On the sands, Vendelin gets out of the way, moving toward Reighley where she's protected by her brother, putting a visual block between them so the younger girl is spared. "Good idea,' is called to Leyon. "She'll be fine, Reigh, I'm sure." Though he worriedly casts glances over his shoulder at his friend, blue eyes glinting with a concern he's trying to harden out of existence. On the sands, Kiveily has only a moment to look startled as she falls, and certainly no moments to listen to any of the other candidates and their alarm as blood suddenly appears. Helping hands notwithstanding, she drops with a wince and widened eyes. Barely audible, there's an "Ilianth." And louder, dazed, "Shells. 'M fine." And she repeats it again, though it seems only for the hatchling. "No fuss. No..." She trails off, blinking, lifting a hand to Ilianth's head, and then glancing down at her leg with another wince. On the sands, Vargan immediately snaps into action, moving quickly onto the sands toward Kiveily, carrying a small satchel full of supplies. "Easy now, let me look at that wound. I know you're thrilled at your new lifemate, but we need to take care of you quickly." Assessing the gash, he immediately applies a clean cloth to her thigh, applying pressure. "I'll hold this and when you're ready, we'll get you to the weyrling area where I can put in a few stitches. Lean on me." His tone is firm, as he prepares to assist Kiveily. "I can handle this." he speaks to Tirien. "Thanks." The blood being spilt on the sands seems, if anything, to attract R'hin's attention more than the impressions themselves, pale eyes on the candidate's figure. Lips thin somewhat, though he nods as the girl seems to be aware enough to know her dragon's name. On the sands, Tirien nods, moving aside immediately. He gets to his feet, stepping back and out of the way. "Congratulations, Kiveily," he murmurs. "He's a lovely brown." On the sands, "Shards! That's what I was afraid of!" That's R'us, being himself. Only because he's so busy glaring all over the sands does he realize so swiftly that Kiveily's been wounded, and set out at a jog toward her. His pace slows a bit as Vargan starts out too, though. After a quick moment in silent conference with the healer R'us backs off, allowing him to take over the escort duties; R'us retreats to wait for more trouble. Er, pairs. On the sands, Andikola murmurs a quick "Congrats Kiv, and to Ilianth" she nods to the nearby dragon as she backs away to let Vargen take care of everything. Jenufa applauds for the Kiveily and Ilianth, clearly relieved the girl wasn't hurt worse. On the sands, Caeleb lets go a held breath he didn't know he was holding. It looks like Kiveily is going to be fine - if a little scarred. He even collects himself to answer Reighley quietly, "I d-don't know why s-some folks are m-mean. M-aybe they're afraid." Of what, he isn't certain. On the sands, Ilianth creels anxiously, his wings fluttering open for the first time as he mantles at that unfamiliar healer and that boy who's far too close. On the sands, Infamous Sweater Egg squirms and shudders, bulges and shakes. Then it lies still, but seems almost to breathe, swelling and receding as if panting from exertion. A small tendril of shell seems to begin to peel from a purple patch, like a bit of yarn coming loose. On the sands, Copper Teakettle Brown Dragonet pauses long enough to shake some shards from his tail he stands and lifts a wing experimentally. From this view he sees those white things moving about across the sands and he wants to join them. His wing lowers and slowly he approaches, whirling eyes taking in each remaining Candidate. Which one to choose? On the sands, Tirien takes another step away, keeping his eyes on Ilianth as he creels his displeasure. "Sorry. Just trying to help." On the sands, Kailai is still trembling like the eggs themselves she nods. "Yeah, some people are just flat out scum, some people are mildly unpleasant, but after what happened to Kiveily I think we'd all best keep our eyes pealed." She shudders. On the sands, With her sightline blocked by both Treizen and Vendelin, Reighley sniffs a couple more times, brushes a hand across her face, and straightens, trying hard to look brave as she peeks back around the shielding bodies toward the remaining eggs. "I don't know, either," she answers Caeleb, her own tone as quiet as his as she fidgets, her front not withstanding the ongoing hatching's uproar. Kalliope peeks out from Delu's shoulder. "Is... is she ok?" she asks, daring to look down on the sands again, this time catching the girl being helped from the grounds. "I... I don't know..." she says in response to the question about them staying. "There are... are a... a lot of... of people..." she says, hazarding a look around. Still slightly green around the edges, her jawline working itself slowly so as to not heave all over R'hin's knees, Satiet finally ventures a look over, peeking around the tops of the man in front of her and then fixating on the coppery brown instead. "I daresay he'll Impress to a boy," she notes to herself, changing the topic of discussion in her own head. On the sands, Chihanne looks quite relieved when she sees that a Healer and R'us are on their way to help with Kiveily. And yet there are still little dragonets prowling about. The girl cannot seem to keep her gaze from them for long, her stormy eyes trailing after the green in particular. On the sands, The Valiant Frosted Forest Green never wavers in her search as she moves among the last of the candidates. However it seems that her journey has ended as she suddenly stops at the feet of a young girl with expressive grey eyes. Looking up at Chihanne, large eyes shining, the young green gives a quick yet hopeful creel towards her. After seeing the healer taking care of the new dragonrider, and a thoughtful look at R'hin, Harley turns her attention back to the sands to watch the rest of the hatching. "She'll be fine." Delu promises firmly. "Why not see how you feel when this is done, on whether we stay?" She smiles a bit, "Looks like the green's chosen. Good for her!" Zahava splits her attention between the wounded girl, and her own sister, and thus misses the green at first. When she suddenly sees it near her sister, she gasps and reaches to try to grab Jenufa's arm - nevermind manners, apparently. "Is that? Did she?" she asks breathlessly. On the sands, Vendelin clenches his jaw as the healer approaches, and swallows hard, trying to look especially brave for Reighley's sake. "There now, healer's out. They'll have her patched up in no time." Kailai's advice seems good to take, and he tries to watch the clumsy stumbles beyond, though he can't help glancing toward Kiv. On the sands, Kiveily's lips compress, folding together so tightly that the pink line of her lips is barely visible. There are no words, only a deep intake of her breath, released slowly. And again as the clean cloth is pressed against her thigh. When she does open her mouth again, the first sound that comes out of it is an, "Llngh." And she tries again, trying to sound soothing, and rather failing. "We're fine. We're fine, really no fuss." The healer gets a small, humorless smile. "Sooner the better, right?" And she props her hands up as though to rise, her smile growing into sincerity as she looks back to the brown, though it may be crooked. "We have find somewhere out of the way, I'm sure," R'hin says in response to Kalliope's uncertainty, though Satiet's reaction garners his attention with a twitch of brows... and flicker of alarm until the weyrwoman looks far less pale. "Perhaps the lady of the spires oughtn't eat before attention hatchings," the bronzerider murmurs in an undertone. On the sands, Infamous Sweater Egg begins to unravel at last. The loud purple streak splits and the yellow and pink beltline pulls apart at the midpoint, revealing pale milky membranes bent and bulging from the pressure of the creature within. Then that membrane splits as well and in a rush of glossy clear fluid a dark-tipped hatchling pours out onto his belly, catching one wing on an egg-shard as he tumbles out. The resulting tear in his wingsail sets him creeling with displeasure, eyes whirling orange and red, but instinct drives him to suffer the pain, to push forward onto the sand and search. On the sands, Forged for Discord Bronze Dragonet The length of his limbs suggest a certain slender agility, but overall this bronze is stocky of build, broad-chested and thick-bellied, with more bulk than sinew in his musculature. A sinuous neck and whipcord tail seem poorly machined for his blocky body, and the inward bend of his headknobs toward one another could not be said to flatter his angular head or wide eyeridges. Burnished shades roll up his muzzle, echoed like puffs of smoke at the top of each neckridge, and beneath them thin dark lines feather out in curling tendrils along the sides of his neck. The rest of his hide is typically bronze in hue, but the shadows of his shoulders, underwings and haunches are brushed with narrow streaks of tarnished stain, as if he were made of metal in some filthy forge and the soot of ancient smithwork still clings to him. Dark wingspars support slightly paler, translucent sails. Broad and glossy, they would be glory enough for any dragon, but a tear in the left's spar mainsail will leave a scar to mar them for life. On the sands, Kiveily slowly makes her way off of the sands, her lips folded back together as she moves, supported though she is by the healer. On the sands, Vargan is as usual, on top of these things, a veteran at hatching accidents. When Kiveily is propped up against his side, he gathers his supplies and heads them both toward the weyrling room. "Get your lifemate to leave with us. We wouldn't want to lose him out here in all this, would we?" On the sands, Kailai 's jaw srops at the bronze. "Wow... I... can't wait to see, who... he gets..." She stammers. "Wow, wow, wow." She states as s he stares at the newly hatched bronze. On the sands, Caeleb is drawn by Kailai's exclaimation. He sees the bronze. And the slight mar upon the wings. "Oh h-he's h-hurt!" On the sands, Copper Teakettle Brown Dragonet continues his search oh the choice is so hard, his must be just right, with just the right, oh what is this could it be? Is this the one for him? He studies this one his wedged head lowering towards a male candidate. On the sands, Confusion, disbeleif and then elation quickly cycle through Chihanne's face in quick succession. A warm giggle sounds from Chihanne at last as she kneels and throws her arms around the green. "Oh Lucilyth! I'm SO glad!" She chirps, beaming broadly. At length, she rises and looks around for R'us so that she can get her lifemate food. "C'mon. We can get you something to eat." She assures the dragonet warmly, excitement clear in the young girl's tone. On the sands, New Era Egg rolls down the mound of piled eggs. On the sands, Leyon makes a cringing sort of face at Kiveily's departing back. "I'd always thought I'd be so overjoyed to have her off my back," he mutters. "Why'd she have to go and mess it up by getting /climbed on/, of all things?" Though his question sounds more or less rhetorical, it's directed at the nearest warm body: Andikola. On the sands, R'us is there a moment later, meeting Chihanne halfway. "Hey, greenrider," he greets her with a grin, his searchee now his weyrling to train. "C'mon, food's that way." And he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, then turns to lead off in the indicated direction. On the sands, New Era Egg shivers as if the Sands were a frozen wasteland rather than baking hot. It teeters at the edge of a small ripple of sand, and with a particularly firm shake, topples to a lower level. After a pause it shudders again, more vigorously now. On the sands, Jenna looks relieved as Kiveily is off the sands with healer in tow. After a few moments, the healer is back, murmuring in the Weyrwoman's ear. "Brown Ilianth and Kively. Right. Oh, and that green took Chihanne. Lucilyth. Nice name." On the sands, "Aw, that one's hurt, too!" Reighley points out at once, pointing around her brother at the recently hatched bronze. "Somebody should..." She trails off at a reminding look from Treizen, the girl biting her lip again. "I know, I know. But--he's hurt," she protests, glancing downward briefly, then back to the injured hatchling. "Maybe he'll do it fast, so they can help him?" she suggests hopefully, offering a half-smile. "Do you really think she'll be okay?" she then reverts to the subject of Kiveily, with another look to Vendelin. Zihsa has apparently run out of questions, instead settling forward again to watch the sands intently, brows furrowed. Her companions continue their amiable banter, occasionally tossing comments her way, but she seems more inclined to observe for the moment. On the sands, A pulsating rhythm seems to emit from the Unknown Beast Egg, as if a drum is beating slowly from deep within. As time slowly passes the rhythm becomes louder, as if something is coming, something... strange. Before long the rhythm is constant, vibrating the shell with each pulse. Soon the pulse causes a crack, then another, and another, until the surface is covered with a spinners network of weblike lines. The egg seems to melt, falling away in tiny shards in a pile at the feet of a creeling, vivacious bottle green dragonet. She stands there, looking pitiful with whirling eyes red with hunger. Instead of going to peruse the Candidates, she tries to get an idea of who she is meant to be with right from this very spot. There. There he is. She goes down on all fours to almost slither towards a rotund former Apprentice Drummer from Harper Hall. He's the one! Hearing her coming for him, he cries out her name and meets the green halfway with a laugh. On the sands, Forged for Discord Bronze Dragonet swallows his agony and tucks his wing up against his side, ichor draining in a thin line away from the wound. He is not happy. His eyes cannot decide whether to whirl red rage or yellow fear, and settle in time on antagonistic irritation. He prowls away from his shell-shards and starts out across the sands. Froth builds upon his maw and he champs, shaking his head to toss the foam away. On the sands, Chihanne beams broadly up at R'us before following in his wake with her lifemate. On the sands, Caeleb takes an unconscious step backwards. That bronze looks unhappy, and after seeing Kiveily's leg, he's not about to take any chances. Those little claws are *sharp*! "Perhaps-," but there's a pause after Satiet begins to speak, a lengthy silence that allows her opportunity to turn her voice more arch than sick. "Perhaps, it's none of your business." The appearance of the latest bronze tears her gaze away from the coppery brown and from dragon to dragon, the pale gaze hops, as if counting. On the sands, Andikola looks over at Leyon and smiles a little shakily as the reaction to what just happened starts to set in. "He was awfully fast." is all she says in answer to it. "I didn't know they could move /that/ fast." Glancing back towards the eggs, she doesn't say anything but her hand lifts, pointing to the injured bronze. Zahava's hand moves away in order to join the other clapped tightly over her mouth as she stares at her sister on the sands. The only emotion on her face is shock. On the sands, Vendelin catches sight of young Chihanne nearby as she chirps to her new partner, and he almost smiles, though it is pressed taut by his concern for Kiveily. "Hopefully she'll recover, walk all right," he mutters, before snapping a lid on that, of course, for Reighley's sake. "But Treizen's right, you shouldn't rush out there either, even if he looks hurt." The unspoken addition: also looks dangerous. "He's frothing. Wouldn't it be something if he were Caeleb's? Buck him right up, I'd wager a sixteenth on it." On the sands, Kailai freezes at the sight of the bronze. Her hands tremble even faster. She takes a step away from him, and two, and pulls her hand away from Caeleb's. "Man, he does not look very happy at all. I can't blame him with the injured wing... but..." On the sands, Tirien keeps moving slowly away from the tight knot of candidates, his feet seeming to move of their own volition - or perhaps self-preservation from the heat. He stops for a moment in surprise as everyone begins pointing and gasping at the newest hatchling - a bronze with a torn wing. "How'd that happen?" On the sands, Jenna grimaces as she sees the bronze. "Shells and shards. There are only twelve of you," she demands to the eggs. "Why are you so much more trouble than if there were thirty!" On the sands, Coppery glints in a young man's brown hair match the Copper Teakettle Brown Hatchling and he's noticed this in his travels across the Sands, finally trundling up the Candidate with clear purpose. He sets himself down immediately in front of the white-clad, blue-eyed fellow and croons musically until acknowledged. Delu shivers softly at the wounded dragonet. "I have to say, I hope Igen has a less, ahh, dangerous hatching than this..." On the sands, Spidery cracks appear in the matte stripes of the New Era Egg. The hatchling within pauses for a moment, then with an extra -oomph- causes the egg to roll out of its hollow. A second later it breaks open on the sands revealing a gangly blue. On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet Unlovely is perhaps the kindest thing to be said about this blue - he's quite unpolished, perpetually hunched as though mortified of his every movement. A myriad of angles give this surprisingly tiny blue his shape. The wide spring of his wings, which are the largest thing about him, throw the rest of his scrawny form into cruel relief while his tail scarcely widens to a spade. His color is mostly the deep blue of the mid-ocean, though stippled here and again with a lighter froth or steely cloudbank. Streaks of turquoise along his muzzle and belly, instead of calling up shallow waters, make him look instead prone to seasickness. "Perhaps," R'hin echoes in precisely the same tone as Satiet's, "You're right, weyrwoman." He leans back easily, glancing to Harley to see how she fares with an easy grin. On the sands, M'yr's hand moves up to Soldreth as the bronze waddles, his own method of pacing nervously. "You realize this is not any of Soldreth's doing, right, Jenna?" he asks, as human blood is seen in splotches on the Fortian sand. Kalliope looks up at Delu with wide eyes. "This is all going to happen at Igen?" as if she didn't know. "Oh right... but... but it's a ways away... I... I think I'll be elsewhere for that..." she decides. She looks down at the sands again though, her attention drawn to the beautiful bronze with the torn wing. "How... how did he... he do... that..." she asks, "Are they often born hurt?" she wonders. On the sands, Leyon answers Andikola's mute gesture and Tirien's question in one go. "The thing probably tried to climb up someone that was too big for it." When his failed joke sounds flat and heartless even to him, he adds, "There's prob'ly as many dragonhealers as human healers hovering around out here. I'd wager he'll be taken care of soon as he hurries up and Impresses to some unlucky sop." On the sands, T'rien shakes his head for a moment, frowning for a moment in confusion. He lifts a hand to his ear and wiggles it, as if trying to stop it from ringing. He blinks, slowly, then cants his head to the side and peers down at the little brown who has suddenly appeared in front of him. "Nice to meet you, too, Cavoth. I'd be happy to get you something to eat but I'm kinda..." He blinks again. "Did you just...?" He falls to his knees, his face lighting up with joy. "Cavoth!" On the sands, Quietly, unassumingly, the Labyrinth Egg begins to rock gently back and forth. To and fro it goes, seems to not want to let anyone know it's doing it's thing, playing the Hatching game. Of course, it wants to join in, so slowly, carefully, it begins to shake and shudder. As cracks appear on it's surface, a large chunk falls away to reveal a cloudy blue rear foot. Soon the foot is accompanied by a tail, then another hind foot and... he's backing out. Scooting backwards, the average sized blue finds his way out of his egg, landing on his rear with a suprised sneeze. He just sits there a moment, seeming lost in his own thoughts before he realizes that there is attention on him. Blinking slowly, he turns around, looking as if he might want to crawl right back into his shell. It's then that he spies her, a pixie-like blonde girl hailing from Ista Weyr not to far away. With a happy bugle, his fears are forgotten and he heads to her. Her sweet voice joyously calls out his name and Impression is made, another pair bonded for life on the Fortian Sands. Jenufa lets out a cheer for the brown Cavoth and his boy. "Huzzah!" On the sands, Jenna gives M'yr a dark look, and as such misses T'rien's impression. Niyath calls her attention to it, and she turns back to the candidates with a called, "Congratulations!" "I've heard it said," R'hin says, in that airy way that suggests the words are completely unsubstantiated, "That the clutchparents influence their hatchlings in how violent a hatching it is. This being particularly bloody..." he trails off, with a wave of hand. "It happens," he answers Kalliope, "But not usually together." Delu blinks, and lets out a sudden, loud cheer for Tirien, "T'rien! Cavoth! A beautiful name and a beautiful brown! Shards, his parents are gonna be thrilled, maybe Terri will ease off us a bit!" On the sands, Forged for Discord Bronze Dragonet pauses to stretch one wing, the unharmed one, wide out beside him. He bends his head low and arcs his neck around to stare up at his own sails, then curves a look around to the other side to check on the injured wing. A thin little snort escapes his snout and, still one-wing-out like that, he slinks along toward the candidates. He seems to be zeroing in on a couple of girls, and as he comes closer to them he sweeps out his tongue to shed more of the foam from his mouth. On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet scrabbles awkwardly to his feet, neck stretched out and mouth gaping open in silent complaint. He stretches out his wings, the edges trailing like wet blankets, and staggers around in a drunken circle, head bobbing as he tries to focus on the gathering. On the sands, Reighley frowns at the bronze stomping about, taking a step back behind Treizen again as Vendelin answers as well. However, the loud call of another name earns her attention, and then she's pointing enthusiastically toward Tirien and his brown. "Oh, did you see! Tirien impressed, too, a brown!" she announces with a happy smile. "Istans," comes Satiet's firm assessment, as she resumes listening to R'hin after a spell of deliberately ignoring him. "All Istan clutches I've seen, including those sired by Istan dragons elsewhere, seem to have a streak of violence in them." On the sands, Vendelin raises one hand to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead, nodding agreement to Leyon's assessment. "There probably are," he agrees, and then Tirien, the sometimes quiet, sometimes assertive Tirien, has been found by his lifemate. "Hey, Reighley, look at that," he agrees as she points, "Without incident, even. Your brother will even let you look." On the sands, Caeleb swivels his head towards the exit, trying to get a glimpse of the latest pairings. Then back again to the injured bronze. He does a quick two-step, the heat of the sands finally getting to even him. On the sands, Andikola's eyes dart around trying to see everything all at once again. Her smile finally returns as she sees the latest impression. Her own curiosity has her asking "And why would any uh, sop, be unlucky to impress?" she asks. Kalliope is startled by Delu's reaction. "That's who you've been watching?" she grins, though the smile is still a bit tight. She claps excitedly none the less, hey, she has to cheer for someone. On the sands, Kailai stares intently at the blue, but the bronze gets a worried stare. "I hope he's okay. That wing looks pretty painful. And he's acting like its driving him mad too." She shudders. "I pity the one who gets him." On the sands, T'rien wraps his arms around Cavoth's neck, tears streaming unabashedly down his face. "I...there's food around here someplace, I'm sure. Do you need help? I know it's a long way but I'll carry you! I'll be with you forever!" A low chuckle puntuates R'hin's amusement at Satiet's confirmation of his words. "Well, that would explain things a great deal. Istan, hmm?" On the sands, Vendelin shakes his head, "I've heard tale, and seen drawings, of felines that look like that. You suppose he could be sick, need taken out right away? Or maybe he just drools. Up a storm." A soft chuckle at his own humor, then he smiles thinly for the blue's antics. "And we're told not to drink to excess. Looks like he's been into R'tran's stash of Benden Red." Delu nods, giving the girl a quick squeeze. "Yeah, him. Tirien, Terrilia and V'lien's son. V'lien's Delia's brother, and she's my aunt. So, we're almost, kind of, related." A chuckle. "Igen's hatchings are usually more sedate. I don't recall anyone getting hurt when Boskkyth hatched." On the sands, Kailai glares at Vendelin. "Be kind! They're dragons." She glares. "And if I were you, I'd pay attention, you just might get one of them." She points out cooly. Zahava's hands lower into her lap, and though she is watching the rest of the goings-on, it is with a rather glassy, inward expression on her face. On the sands, Forged for Discord Bronze Dragonet dips his head. It might seem he's especially *eyeing* that one candidate's robe. It would be such a great place to dry off his soppy mouth... a few sudden, bolting paces and he's doing just that, bowling into Andikola's leg in his efforts. As he rubs past her, soggying her robe, his foot tangles a bit 'round her ankle, twisting. She's liable to be bruised and sprained both, but the bronze hardly can be bothered to care. He just keeps on going, then circles around behind the candidate group. On the sands, "She can look where she wants," Treizen mutters under his breath, nevermind his earlier protectiveness of his little sister. Reighley, however, ignores the exchange between the two older candidates, instead watching Tirien as he exits, offering him a cheery finger-wiggle as he passes, along with another smile. "Don't talk about him, he'll /hear/," she then hisses at Vendelin, staring at him, then the blue, and finally settling her gaze on that outraged, injured bronze. On the sands, "T'rien, was it?" R'us is a little slow on the uptake, but at last he's made his way over to the new pair. "Come on, let's get some food in him, shall we?" And for the first time, the young weyrlingmaster really seems to smile, just a _tiny_ bit, leading the pair away. Leiventh senses that Teonath's drowsy voice lifts, the edges of the fair rose frayed and blending into the pale blue backdrop of her mind. Her voice is as soft as usual, but it carries in it a note of woken slumber. « Diplomat. » Terse too. « Vildaeth's, perhaps. » That she does not quite understand this message she conveys matters little as once again sleep overcomes the pale queen. On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet weaves to a stop facing a pair of Candidates who have drawn together. Again his mouth opens, this time with a pitiful cracking squeal which may someday grow to a big strong bugle. He staggers toward the duo, his path meandering boozily though his steps gradually gain strength and firmness. On the sands, Leyon shrugs lightly toward Andikola. "Lookit how..." he searches for words. "messed up he is. Attacking innocent bystanders and all." His chin juts toward the pair of girls the bronze was bothering instants ago. Then his words become almost prophetic. "Shardit, Andi, you gotta watch out!" He holds out both hands in case she should need some support, worrying all the while, "First I'm good luck, now I'm bad. What the shell is wrong with me?" Of course, it's all about him. Zihsa leans over to exchange a few comments with her shorter friend again, her attention no longer quite so focused on the sands. After a moment of intense conversation, she shrugs, then takes a bit to turn her head this way and that, looking over the crowd for a change of pace. On the sands, Caeleb wonders, "H-how'd he hurt himself?" He traces a small half-circle to get back at Kailai's side, though he doesn't take her hand again. "N-not m-many left," he observes, still being careful of the injured one. Leiventh> Teonath senses that Leiventh's mental voice, whisper soft, slow, builds up with crimson flares, carrying the scent of cinnamon with it. « Perhaps, » is the equally terse response, no doubt his own rider's words rather than his usually languid tones. On the sands, Vendelin laughs to Leyon, "Maybe you're a smuck, too?" He studies the dragonets as the move around the sands, slowly shaking his head. "This is more like a game of dodge than anything else. Can't hardly tell when one might--" As Andikola's twined for a moment, he winces, then can't hold back an almost cruel laugh as he notices no blood is to be seen, and a shrug to Triezen. "Do that. Almost knocked her down, but not quite. Another run, then?" On the sands, Forged for Discord Bronze, content with the chaos he's left in his wake, creeps up behind a few of the white-robes while other hatchlings create distractions elsewhere. But his injured wing trails on the sand and he shrieks in pain, lunging forward in sudden disorientation. He throws out a forepaw to steady himself on the closest object: an unfortunate oily-blond candidate. Bronze toes fit in a grip over the young man's shoulder and the longest two talons, front and back, slide all too easily through fabric and flesh. Though shallow, Vendelin's wound bleeds immediately, torn open as the hatchling's paw slides free to whump onto the sand. Now crouched low, the discordant bronze's eyes whirl fearful shades up at the injured candidate and a desperate whuff escapes sooty nostrils. A sudden narrowing of distant eyes suggests R'hin's attention is elsewhere for a moment, a slow exhale given. Leaning back, the 'Reachian bronzerider lets his eyes rove around the galleries, only belatedly focusing back on the sands below. On the sands, Kailai shakes her head. "Maybe he got tangled up in himself when he hatched?" She suggests, keeping wary eyes on the circling bronze. "If he'd just pick somebody, then maybe the dragonhealers could help him?" She had to open her mouth because now Vendelin's hurt and impressed at once. "Ooooooh." She shudders. On the sands, Vargan nods to Jenna, then moves over to stand next to M'yr. The two mutter to each other, the Weyrleader's face totally serious. "..never did.. but if.." M'yr begins then glances toward the sand yet again. "Shards! Vargan, you are needed out there! Andikola is down!" Without any break of his concentration, Vargan moves again, deeper into the sand and Andikola's side. Stooping, he inspects her, a warm smile of comfort given. "It's sprained. Can you stand but not place any weight on it?" Intense conversation of girls always seems to draw the Reachian woman's pale eyes, and with a slant of her face so as to find Zihsa and her shorter friend a short distance away, Satiet watches the Telgari pair for a long moment. A smile secrets itself in the corners of her mouth and any remnant green seems to have receded completely on the goldrider's cheeks. Kalliope lets out another high pitched noise and burries her face in Delu's shoulder again, this time clearly crying at the blood that was pulled from the candidate. "No suprise that Soldreth's hatchlings're doing things like that," C'len says, as the latest talon-swipe occurs. The rider doesn't look away, instead squinting to study the sands as if finding it interesting rather than grotesque. Delu winces, shuddering softly. "OK, this is getting to be too much. Why are so many getting hurt? Why aren't they staying out of the way better?" She hides her own face in Kali's hair. "We should go, I don't want to see more people hurt." Jenufa gasps as yet another candidate is injured. "It's a good thing the Healer Hall is so close by - they'll need to call out extra help for this one!" On the sands, Mouth open to answer Leyon, no one is more startled than she is when a painful yip pops out instead of the words she was going to say. Hopping back, she staggers and instinctively reaches out, grabbing hold of Leyon's hand for a few seconds until she regains her balance. Teeth gritted, the twisted ankle barely resting on the sand, she lets go of Leyon and stands still for a moment, then nods to Vargas. "Yes. I'm okay as long as I don't put it all the way down. Or have any other dragons get too close." she adds wryly. On the sands, Jenna calls after Vargan, "And Vendelin too!" She wheels on M'yr. "Niyath's never had visious hatchlings before," she accuses, scowling. "I know we've warned them, but /shells/, M'yr!" Zihsa gaze skims past Satiet and her companions, having obviously missed the woman's scrutiny and the smile. With an expression of boredom, perhaps over not finding anything as entertaining, she turns back to the sands. Draila's cheeks have turned pale as she continues to watch, her eyes glued to the sands below. Zahava's eyes gradually focus, and when they do, the rest on Fort's Weyrleaders. Unable to hear the words from here, she watches, a line forming between her brows. On the sands, Caeleb gapes and fishmouths as yet another injury occurs - and another Impression to boot. A bit too early, the green's recession, as the second Satiet turns back to the sands, the gore catches her eyes much like a wreck along a trader's wagon path. "Oh-," the exclamation catches in her throat and with a squeamish set of her lips, the slender woman readies herself to leave, standing unsteadily, and dropping her gaze to the ground. On the sands, "He's coming this way!" Reighley says sharply, sighting the approaching bronze around Treizen. At once, she backs away, grabbing her brother by the arm and dragging him back bodily. She's just reaching for Vendelin as well when the bronze arrives, and with a startled shriek, she finds herself jerked back as well as the bronze's claws find Vendelin. Treizen and Reighley get well out of the way, the girl hiding her eyes again at the blood. "Vendelin! Trei, do something! Where's the healer?" she asks, while her brother waves quickly at the healer to get his attention and gesture him over to Vendelin. "So, Ista's line is a thing to be wary of," R'hin says, with a tip of head, as if filing that particular bit of information away. Satiet's reaction is noted, and the bronzerider leans forward for a moment to murmur something to the woman. On the sands, Vendelin's mouth is still open for a good laugh at Andikola's expense when it's time to pay the piper. A strangled sound comes out, and he blinks fiercely to hold back any tears that spring immediately to his eyes. His hand reaches up to grasp his shoulder, moving in slow motion. The other reaches outward for some invisible force to steady his suddenly uncertain legs. "H--ha," he manages, gasping for breath, "He's hurt," gets out at last. "Imirath is hurt," is next, his tone steel for all its former quiver. On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet creels as he draws closer to the duo, now trio, and picks up his pace. He shoves his muzzle into Vargan's leg, causing the Healer to yelp and look down. "Not -me-," he tells the blue firmly, looking back to Andikola at once. Despondant, the blue backs off a step and shifts his wings, dragging more sand up onto the sails. Satiet senses R'hin's voice is quiet, amused, "Shall I do something distracting to take your mind off the blood, weyrwoman?" On the sands, Vargan nods to Andikola, then presses his bag of supplies under his arm, sprinting toward Vendelin. Immediately, another clean cloth is pressed firmly against the lad's shoulder to stop the flow of blood. "You're hurt and it's my job to get you to the barracks where one of us can stitch up your shoulder. Now." While his voice is steady, he's definitely giving a firm command. On the sands, Leyon's voice sounds nearly panicky as he half shouts to Vendelin, moments after his fellow candidate is scathed, "Don't /talk/ to me, shardit! I told you I'm bad luck." Though he does provide Andikola with support for a moment, once she's on her feet again he backs away hastily. "Look, I'd help you out with that and all, but the way things are going the next hatchling would start eating you if I were within hearing range." He shuffles around, eying all candidates in range to make sure they don't step too close. "Alright, no one get any nearer. All of yous, move that-a-way." He makes shooing motions with one hand. On the sands, With T'rien safely stowed near food and quiet, R'us returns to the sands. And chaos. "Another one," he starts, and mutters a few choice bits about bloodthirsty Istan maulers and their dragons while Vargin tends to V'delin's injury. Jenufa cheers as both the blue and bronze appear to Impress, moving forward in her seat and flicking out her skirt as she cranes to get a better view. Kalliope shakes her head, not moving it from her shoulder. "No.." she says muffled into the shoulder. "It's my... my first hatching... I should stay..." she murmurs, yet she can't seem to pull her face out of Delu's shoulder On the sands, Quietly, unassumingly, the final egg - the Labyrinth Egg - begins to rock gently back and forth. To and fro it goes, seems to not want to let anyone know it's doing it's thing, playing the Hatching game. Of course, it wants to join in, so slowly, carefully, it begins to shake and shudder. As cracks appear on it's surface, a large chunk falls away to reveal a cloudy blue rear foot. Soon the foot is accompanied by a tail, then another hind foot and... he's backing out. Scooting backwards, the average sized blue finds his way out of his egg, landing on his rear with a suprised sneeze. He just sits there a moment, seeming lost in his own thoughts before he realizes that there is attention on him. Blinking slowly, he turns around, looking as if he might want to crawl right back into his shell. It's then that he spies her, a pixie-like blonde girl hailing from Ista Weyr not to far away. With a happy bugle, his fears are forgotten and he heads to her. Her sweet voice joyously calls out his name and Impression is made, another pair bonded for life on the Fortian Sands. You sense Satiet stills, her frame tensing a beat, and as her head is dropped to eye the ground, the expression her face takes on is obscured from everyone except R'hin by a sheath of dark hair. The green is chased away by a flare of scarlet, which cause the pale eyes to glitter all the more brightly. Looking as if to move away without responding, it's at the last second she spares a vastly distracted, and much bemused comment, "Perhaps." On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet stares goggle-eyed up at Leyon, and tries to make the same shooing motions. With his wings, of course, which flings goo-damp sands everywhich way. Delu says, softly, "This shouldn't be anyone's first hatching, Kali. Shards, this is just... No. Please, Kali? I don't want to stay, I really don't. We can go to the caverns if you want, but I don't want to see any more of this." On the sands, Kailai has to cackle at the blue and Leyon. "Oh faranth, that's the funniest sight I've seen all day." She giggles as she points to the blue dragonet. "That's... just.... so funny!" She cackles. On the sands, M'yr's hand goes to his chest as if he were the Accused, dark eyes flashing toward his lifemate who bugles as the last impression is made. "It's not Sol's fault!" he counters to Jenna, eyes narrowing against her barrage. On the sands, V'delin nods, wordless, and blinks to try to steady himself as well as to clear his eyes, which have leaked a small trail of liquid down his face while he wasn't paying attention. He moves in the direction the recently-sniffed-at healer indicates, his hand outstretched for the foaming muzzle to follow. Satiet stills long enough to listen, and while her hair obscures her face it seems more words are exchanged for when she lifts her face again, the hair tousled backwards lightly with a head shake, red has supplanted sickly green. The goldrider seems to be in agreement with Delu and with a glance backwards, careful not to look at the sands, she flashes the greenrider a look of complete sympathy. On the sands, Andikola hops a little, hopping closer to Leyon to get out of the way of the blue hatchling and the healer. She blinks, surprised and looks at Leyon. "Your not making any sense. And your not bad luck. I wasn't watching and I got my ankle sprained. My fault. Not yours, not his." and she points at the bronze. Then her attention goes back to the blue, who is still too close for her comfort. Her arms wave briefly as she steadies herself and she glances at Leyon. "Um, could you get back over here? I don't think I need help, but if you really think this is your fault, then you could stay right here and be ready in case I fall. That way you fall with me." she tries another hop, away from the little blue in case he wants to grab and twist her good ankle. On the sands, Caeleb joins in Kailai's laugh. "H-he's cute." Eyes still on Satiet, R'hin leans back a bit, eyes glittering a moment as he says, quite clearly - and none too quietly - "You should take care not to have an Istan dragon fly Teonath, weyrwoman. Violence should be bred out of dragons, not into them. Such dragons should be discouraged from siring others alike." Kalliope swallows another sob and finally nods in agreement with Delu. She finally pulls her face up and looks at Delu, however she catches the sands out of the corner of her eye and starts quietly crying again. She looks at R'hin incredulously. "You... you blame the... the sire?" she asks between wimpers. On the sands, Leyon's shooing only gets more frantic when Andi starts hopping his way. "I'm not kidding, you dolt. See? He's going to whap anyone who gets near me." He points to the blue with his non-shooing hand. "With sand goop." This is said as one particularly pleasant glop hits him straight on. "Ok, I'll lure him over this way, and you hop that way, then." Accordingly, Leyon takes several steps very far backwards. On the sands, Modern Bellyaching Blue Dragonet's foray across the sands ends as he reaches his intended destination. There is no doubt, no hesitation, nothing short of pure, unadulterated confidence and certainty as he batters his blocky little self into Leyon. The trip was hard, harsh, oh-so-horrible but at long last Leyon is his! On the sands, "We're gonna need a dragonhealer too," grumps R'us, glancing down at Imirath's torn wing as the bronzepair and healer move off toward the food and oil while he, having noted the seasick-seeming blue all but chasing Leyon backwards across the sands, starts out on a hunch to be ready to retrieve them. On the sands, Reighley and Treizen cling more tightly to each others' arms as the hatching progresses in all its goriness. With the final impression made, to Leyon no less, the pair dons matching expressions of mingled relief and disappointment. Reighley's 'congrats' to the last weyrling is whispered rather than hollered, her brother stonily silent and staring at the far wall of the hatching while she shifts around, looking more uncomfortable as the moment stretches on. Delu stands with Kali, eyes still avoiding the sands. She pauses near Kali as she queries R'hin, though she gives a soft frown. "Seem to recall he just doesn't like Ista." She comments. A gentle tug on the girl, "But ask some other time?" Kalliope nods and allows Delu to lead her out of the Galleries. Jenufa makes her way out of the galleries as well. Jenufa goes down the stairs to the Bowl. Jenufa has left. R'hin doesn't look the least bit apologetic, hands spreading wide in response to Kalliope's words, "I imagine time will prove me right or wrong in that regard." Delu's accusation earns a shift of shoulders, watching the pair leave. On the sands, Kailai sighs mournfully as she watches the last blue walk away. "I was so sure..." She whispers softly in disappointment. At least Caeleb is still here, and she turns to him. "Well, that's done. I have a bunch of new dragons to paint. And enough inspiration to last me a life time." She says sadly. On the sands, Caeleb hunkers his shoulders. "V-ven's right," he mutters. He doesn't elucidate, though. Kalliope goes down the stairs to the Bowl. Kalliope has left. Delu goes down the stairs to the Bowl. Delu has left. On the sands, L'yon's hurried steps backwards begin to stagger. He rights himself hastily, but then staggers again. "Shardit, Srulath, you idiot, I didn't mean..." Realization is slow to set in, but when it does, he becomes stock still. "Srulath? You're -- " Words elude the newly-minted bluerider as he wipes goop off the blue. "Yeah, alright, yours." On the sands, The hunch paid off. "Hi. I'm R'us." Has he said this enough times yet today? At least he didn't have to introduce himself to Chihanne. The assistant weyrlingmaster manages a wan grin for L'yon, then another for his new lifemate. "Follow me and we'll get some food into him, how's that sound? C'mon." And he turns to lead the last pair away from their day on the sands. On the sands, Kailai glares at Caeleb. "Just because he got the biggest meanest baddest bronze in the clutch doesn't necessarily mean that he's right. Maybe you'll be searched again sometime." She points out. On the sands, The chaos of the sands dribbles off, much like the blood now sinking into the sands. Shards of shells are littered around, and Niyath, not waiting to see the last of the dragons escorted off, washes her talons of this whole egg sitting thing and takes off for the feeding grounds. It takes Satiet a long moment before the entirety of R'hin's words sink in, before a low laugh precedes the utterance of quiet words, "Thank you." Genuine in her gratitude, the raven-haired woman makes to follow after the Igenites' on their way from the galleries. A beat passes though as she extends a slim hand back towards the Reachian bronzerider, silently, her face smooth and grave. On the sands, M'yr watches the last pairs leaving the Sands, exhaling a long, slow breath. Those dark eyes flicker briefly toward the dam and sire, the smile he wears is filled with pride. Both thumbs hook into his waistband, before he turns to the group still standing there. After a momentary pause, the Weyrleader walks slowly toward them, positioning himself next to Jenna and the others. "That's it?" Zihsa asks of her companions, a confused expression accompanying her first comment truly audible to those around her. It is answered with the sudden laughter of her companions, one of whom gestures toward the exit as he gets to his feet. The others, Zihsa included, move to follow, the taller girl taking a moment to stretch some kinks out of her back before moving to catch up. On the sands, Jenna just sniffs at M'yr. "Of course it isn't. They just didn't duck fast enough." It's difficult to tell if she's being sarcastic or not. Never irritate a pregnant woman. She points at him, "You go talk to the rest of the candidates." She sets off in the direction the weyrlings have gone. She gives the remaining candidates a worried, but sympathetic smile as she passes. "Leyon, isn't it? And Niyath says he's Srulath?" Draila turns about finally her featured drawn and pale as she murmurs, "Dinner in the food court.. Fair grounds if.. hungry." That's about all she can manage as she hurries off to check on the new Weyrlings. Draila goes down the stairs to the Bowl. Draila has left. Zahava draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Her head turns to find Nananthia in the filtering crowd, eyebrows slightly lifted. On the sands, L'yon wanders over to the corner where other weyrlings have gathered, rubbing an ear as though it somehow pains him. He says down to Srulath as he goes, "I just didn't want you to kill somebody out there, is all. The way things were going, it's sharding lucky you didn't." "I am ever at your service, weyrwoman," R'hin responds, the offered hand eyed with some surprise on the bronzerider's part. He rises, smoothly, taking Satiet's hand, prepared to escort her. He does, however, pause to await Harley, a silently questioning look to determine if the assistant steward joins them or not. On the sands, Andikola's arms windmill a bit more as she turns to watch the blue continue on, straight into Leyon. She laughs and claps, then arms wave again to keep her balance. Her head swings back around and it's only then that she realizes there are no more eggs, no more dragons. Disappointment fills her face and her foot goes down into the sand. The throbbing pain in her ankle makes her pick it up again, fast. "Oops." and she focuses her attention on getting off the hot sands and something cold for her ankle. On the sands, Caeleb shrugs at Kailai's words. He doesn't even look disappointed, just accepting. "S-so you s-say. I g-guess it's j-just as well. He was m-mean." Harley nods and rises, quite willing to follow R'hin and Satiet out. "I'm hungry." she murmurs. "It'll be nice to eat a meal without worrying about anything in the kitchens or caverns." Zihsa's head cocks, her attention piqued by something she heard a moment ago. "Did she say there was food?" she asks as she catches up to her friends, who look at her a bit oddly. "I'm famished." Stomach of steel, apparently. On the sands, M'yr's peering after Jenna who seems to have left him behind, finally tugging at his tunic and straightening his back. He begins, a warm smile forged for those remaining. "Fort Weyr has come to call each of you friends. We have come to share your sorrows, happiness and even doubts. For me, this weyr became my home. Some of you will go back to your homelands, some will continue to seek a lifemate elsewhere, some will lay your bedding on a cot here. Always remember, if you stay or not, we are here for you, and care about you. Your 'home', so to speak, if only in here." A fisted hand pounds lightly near his heart as his eyes look to each Candidate. On the sands, "I'd--I'd rather be nice /without/ a dragon than mean with one?" Reighley volunteers hesitantly after a moment, glancing past her brother to Caeleb one last time. "Thanks, by the way. For--" She reaches up to touch her pulled-back hair then, offering a little smile for the other unchosen candidate. Treizen continues his unaffected big brother routine, with unconvincing results, as he glances around the sands. Then, Reighley joins him in silence, glancing to M'yr and frowning sadly, shuffling her feet on the hot sands. Once his hand is in hers, Satiet's quick to redirect her grip to R'hin's elbow. "You can eat after that?" asks she, her brow knitting in askance at the assistant steward. The bronzerider's earlier distraction and its resultant laughter seems to have had a very short shelf life. Though, a comment by a passerby filters down to the weyrwoman. "I could use a glass of wine." Nothing like some alcohol to wash down gore. Leiventh> Boskyth senses that Leiventh's whisper-soft mindvoice, a splash of crimson, intrudes long enough to give parting words. « Mine sends his regards to yours, and to your passenger. » Leiventh senses that Boskyth croons softly, « Delu sends her regards and apologises for the quick departure. » On the sands, Andikola's hopping on one foot now, more to ease the heat in that one foot than to move anywhere. Her teeth are clenched tight and she nods to the weyrleader, understanding what he says but her focus has switched to her feet. Both of them. Harley chuckles. "There's someone bleeding at home every couple of days that winds up in the infirmary. I've gotten used to it." she answers Satiet. "That and I only had a meatroll for lunch." as she follows them. "A person must eat," R'hin intercedes, mild, leading the 'Reachian group away from the galleries, in the indicated direction. You walk down the stairs to the Bowl. Fort Weyr Bowl, northeastern area The Bowl of Fort Weyr, a large, featureless plain surrounded by steep mountain cliffs, stretches out before you. It is vaguely oval in shape, long from southwest to northeast; you're standing near the wall at its northern end. Off to the northwest is the long path leading up to the Junior Queens' Weyrs, while steps to the north lead to the Weyrleader Complex. From here you can see in to the Hatching Grounds to the east, and the steps leading up to the gallery stands in the Grounds to the southeast. Stretching off to the southwest is the center of the bowl, where the Lower Caverns, Weyrling Barracks, lake and Feeding Grounds can be seen. Contents: Eishith Teonath(#223JOQaep) Leiventh Marsath(#3408QVaeps$) Obvious exits: Jr. Queen Weyrs Center of the Bowl Weyrling Barracks Weyrleader Complex Gallery SAnds Zihsa comes down the stairs from the galleries. Zihsa has arrived. Satiet comes down the stairs from the galleries. Satiet has arrived. Reighley walks off the sands. Reighley has arrived. By the time Zihsa and her friends have made it to the bowl, the girl seems to have found her way back into their good graces, although it sounds as though the three Telgari riders are debating the merits of returning to their home weyr without the benefit of eating someone else's food. Zih is a rather vocal dissenter in this discussion, "C'mon, not a one of you has duty until tomorrow night anyway. What'll it hurt?" Leiventh seems to have settled himself quite comfortably in the bowl, wings tucked in, head resting comfortably. Only a slight flicker of bright eyes indicates he acknowledges the arrival of the 'Reachian contingent, R'hin's eyes drifting that way for a moment. "It would help," R'hin finally notes, "If the hosts stuck around long enough to tell us exactly where these fair grounds are meant to -be-. Ah, you--" a hand is waved vaguely in Zihsa's direction, "Do you know where the food is?" For all the times they've complained about their Bad Cousins, as soon as Reighley and Treizen slip out of the hatching cavern those same Bad Cousins are the first to greet them, sharing hugs and commiserations along the lines of 'you wouldn't want one of /those/ dragons, anyway.' These sentiments apparently cheer the two unchosen candidates up somewhat, for both of them manage smiles for their cousins, and after several minutes of conversation, Treizen and the others head toward the hatching feast at the fairgrounds. Reighley, the youngest of the group, lingers behind, glancing back at the entrance to the sands and biting her lower lip again. "Everyone must eat, yes," the dark-haired Reachian begins acerbically. "But after that display, I'd find it impossible to keep anything down without some wine to fortify the soul." Keeping up nicely with R'hin, Satiet spares Zihsa another glance as the bronzerider questions her. Teonath has claimed sleep as her own by Leiventh's side, curled into as small of a ball as she's capable of. "And the wine," she adds helpfully, as if the two might not be in the same place and Zihsa might know where both are. C'len comes down the stairs from the galleries. C'len has arrived. Zihsa snorts at a response from one of her group, then jerks her head up as another elbows her to indicate she's being addressed. "Bwuh?" It takes a moment for her to orient on first R'hin, then Satiet. There's a blink, as though she's not quite sure /why/ they'd be asking her -- one of those 'are you daft?' looks people usually give others when asked if they work someplace they don't, just by dint of being there. "Ah, well now," she begins, reaching up to scratch behind an ear, having suddenly decided that an answer is required, "I'd say it'd be that way." She points in a random direction where there seem to be people gathering, though goodness knows if she's right. "But I may just be pulling answers out of my hiney." "I think it'd be remiss of them if there wasn't wine," R'hin observes sidelong to Satiet. A pause, then a low, amused chuckle emanates from the bronzerider, clearly delighted by Zihsa's response. "Oh, good show," he says, "You certainly can't be Fortian, not with -that- sense of humor. R'hin, of High Reaches," he introduces himself smoothly. Reighley's candidate robe is not quite the pristine white it once was anymore, and it's not likely to get any better as the girl seems to hardly notice the garment's unsuitability for anything but the hatching as she postpones changing in favor of catching a question from the two nearby riders. "I know where it is," she speaks up before she looks over Satiet and R'hin--the latter receives a double-take and a wary step backward, the girl nearly stumbling as she recognizes him. Above the northeastern area, Vildaeth spirals down and backwings to a neat landing on the bowl floor. Vildaeth has arrived. It's the stumbling girl that rivets Satiet's attention rather than Zihsa's reply, though it's clear she does hear something of it as an usually bemused smile finds the crooked curve of her lips. "Do you, now?" Cool voiced, Reighley's age sized up with one very glittering blue glance that sweeps up and then down again. "Please then, show us where the wine may be." A beat. "You were on the sands, weren't you?" C'len threads through the crowd that's still coming from the galleries, caught up in the ebb and flow of people. "Does Fort have good wine?" He asks, overhearing Satiet's request. "Or do you just need a stiff drink after--that--" he waves his hand back in the general direction of the sands, smirking slightly. There's a nod for R'hin and the others nearby, as well. Zihsa manages to look terribly modest in the face of what she takes as a compliment. And by terribly I mean she doesn't manage it very well. "Well, one does what one can." As her companions look torn between dragging her off and debating their possible departure, she takes a step closer, nodding affably. "Zihsa. Telgar. Shamelessly hitching rides since --" She stops to look skyward, likely trying to judge the passage of time, "About two hours ago. A pleasure to meet you." There's a faint flicker of recognition in R'hin's eyes as his attention shifts to Reighley, solidified by the girl's wariness of him. "Ah, a genuine Fortian in the flesh. How fortuitous." The dry tones, if anything, seem calculated to heighten the girl's wariness rather than ease it. R'hin easily returns C'len's nod, though the look he gives his fellow bronzerider is oddly sharp. Zihsa's words, however, soon garner his attention. "Telgar?" he echoes, "Ah, I should've guessed. Nothing to be shamed about, certainly. Though I don't imagine Telgar's hatchings have a tendency to be anywhere near as bloody as that?" A tip of head indicates the hatching grounds. "Uh, well. I don't know about the wine, exactly," Reighley admits sheepishly, suddenly shy in the face of the goldrider and the marginally familiar bronzerider from the foreign Weyr. "But you shouldn't drink, anyway. It's not good for you. The--the food's this way, though." She gestures toward the lake then, taking a few steps that way before answering Satiet's question. "Yes, ma'am," she replies politely. "I'm Reighley." Don't look at R'hin, don't look at--she looks. And takes another rapid step backward, though this time more careful not to get her feet tangled in each other. Recognition of voice touches Satiet's face before C'len comes into view, and with a slight turn of her diminutive shoulders, she catches sight of another of Reaches' bronzeriders. "A stiff drink-," she reflects to Vildaeth's, "Would be far more to my temperament right now than wine, but wine will do in a pinch." With the back of her hand, the young woman reflexively neatens her loose white skirt, as if differentiating the cleanliness of it to Reighley's candidate robe. The hand then is quick to reach out, stealing across to attempt to bolster the once candidate behind her back. "Careful there," she notes, in that dry way of someone far too amused at someone else's two left feet. Giving another snort, Zihsa eyes R'hin with feigned innocence. "Of course not. Why else would we cultivate such stellar senses of humor to keep ourselves busy if we had something like that to watch all the time?" The interplay between R'hin and those close by him seems to provide further amusement for her. Clearing her throat, she leans in toward the bronzerider a bit and asks, deadpan, "So, I gather you're the scary one?" Her gaze flicks momentarily in Reighley's direction to indicate the source of her theory. "It was less than pleasant, certainly," C'len refers to the hatching. That doesn't, of course, mean that he's not ready to join in Fort's feast. "Is the fair still here? I heard there was fun to be had by the lake. Traders visiting, perhaps." The rider pauses in his shuffle along the bowl, brows lifting momentarily, before continuing slowly in the way that Reighley indicates. Surely the candidate knows her way around the weyr. There's a definite glint of satisfaction in R'hin's pale eyes at the Fortian's reaction, though his attention remains largely on Zihsa. "Ah, very true. And, no doubt, you would find yourself with a dearth of wine to drown your sorrows in afterwards - also a poor way to live, I think." Solicitously, he bends his head slightly towards the Telgarian to catch her words, wry, unapologetic as he responds, "Only if you've something to hide. Or you're frightened by the merest of looks." "Thank you," Reighley tells Satiet, a touch of pink reaching her cheeks as the weyrwoman reaches toward her. "I am, really. I'm careful." She falls silen as she glances again at R'hin, then turns determinedly toward the lake. "It's this way, if you want to come," she calls back, rather than actually answer the bronzerider. "Traders-," Satiet exhales to C'len, a hand lingering lightly around R'hin's elbow. "We'll be having traders arriving within the sevenday, I believe. The watchrider's have sighted a caravan on its approach." A careless glance slides back to Reighley, ascertaining the girl's state with a raised brow and then withdraws that bolstering hand to join the other at the bronzerider's elbow. Zihsa slants the 'Reachian rider an appraising look as she straightens. "Truth be told, you don't look all that scary to me," she admits after a moment, her tone dubious. She continues her appraisal, a finger lifted to tap the side of her cheek in a thoughtful gesture. After a moment -- one in which she makes note of the others following the once-candidate toward the food, she declares, "Perhaps if you were taller." There's a hint of bravado in her voice, no doubt a result of not often having the opportunity to tease people well above her in rank. "Looks can be deceiving, Zihsa of Telgar. For example, I mistook you for Fortian, for which I unreservedly apologize." R'hin's words have a hint of amusement to them, but are no less sincere for all that. "Are you going to partake of Fort's hospitality, such that it is?" he says, by way of invitation, glancing back to Satiet, lips curving as glance slants after the former candidate. Satiet's return is affable enough for her, colder than most people however in voice, "Such that it is." Her steps are already on their way to follow Reighley. "Apology accepted," Zihsa replies graciously, apparently well aware of the fact that she could be tendering an apology of her own. In response to R'hin's question, she turns to look at her trio of companions, who offer a variety of expressions from grimaces to bogglement to laughter. When one points toward the area in which their dragons have been lounging, she nods, then offers the bronzerider a look of mock woe. "I'd intended to, but my ride seems to be leaving." There's a pause during which she seems to consider something, then notes, "Unless of course some new friend could be plied with enough drink to convince them to do me the honor of a flight home after." Did she just flutter her lashes? Maybe so. One of her friends just doubled over laughing, so signs point to yes. A low, amused chuckle is R'hin's response to Satiet's cool comment, the bronzerider appearing to agree. Zihsa's comment, however, earns a widening of eyes, brightening as if he's just discovered something interesting. "Oh-ho! A lady of many talents I see, flattery amongst them. Well, never let it be said I would refuse being plied with wine by a lovely Telgarian. My dear weyrwoman, we must see about keeping this one, I think," that's said almost as an aside to Satiet, before - aware of Zihsa's companions and deliberately doing it - he offers his other elbow to the Telgarian. "We?" is all Satiet imparts, her countenance cooling rapidly. "Or perhaps you wish to keep her on your hearth, bronzerider." It seems to be enough for the goldrider to relinquish her hold of R'hin and flicker her fingers to the soon-to-be departing trio. "Perhaps you can find another ornament for your arm," is also added, a disdainful look imparted for the overly tall Telgari. The slight woman takes a step back, if her departure from the company of girls and one man wasn't clear, and turns to a grumpily roused Teonath. "Tsk," Zihsa answers, slipping an arm through his with an exaggerated bit of ceremony. "Lovely? You're trying too hard, I think." Turning to raise her free hand, she wriggles her fingers in a farewell to her friends, who are still too busy laughing to react, then brings her attention back to R'hin and his companions. Satiet's comment is met with a look of brief wariness before understanding dawns. At that point, she manages a broad grin, nodding to the goldrider as if she'd just paid her a high compliment. Leaning in a bit, she murmurs to R'hin, "She's so delightfully icy. I like her. Who is she again?" If anything, R'hin almost seems to be pleased with Satiet's reaction, if the knowing way he watches her is any hint. "I'll be sure to bring you back some Fortian wine, lady of the spires," his low voice calls after her, pale eyes lingering on the goldrider for a beat longer before turning to Zihsa. He's not in the slightest apologetic for his weyrwoman's behaviour, and in fact makes no mention of it as he says, "Perhaps I'm not trying hard -enough-," he counters, patting the Telgarian's arm briefly as it settles on his elbow. "That, was Satiet of High Reaches, Teonath's weyrwoman." Lucky for all involved, Satiet is nowhere near enough to overhear the remarks to her or of her and as her slim hand curves along the gold's lowered maw, Teonath watches the pair dryly over the woman's shoulder. With watchful, whirling, blue and bemused eyes. Quickly, speaking of her practice with such action, the goldrider mounts the Reaches queen and settles herself in quickly: straps strapped, dress smoothed down so as to avoid inadvertent flashing. "I see," Zihsa muses, nodding slowly as she absorbs that information quietly for a moment. "Are we .trying. to make her jealous?" she asks conversationally, quiet enough to hopefully avoid being overheard by the topic of interest. "Because if so, I think it might be working." All the while her smile remains in place, as if she and the bronzerider were discussing some pleasant topic like the weather. "Do you expect I'll have the chance to irritate more of your fellow High Reaches friends tonight?" "Jealous?" R'hin echoes that observation with a hint of surprise. "Do you think yourself a rival to her, Zihsa of Telgar?" The question is not an insult, but honest curiousity, the bronzerider's attention focused intently on the tall woman. "Oh, I imagine so. They all seem to have dispersed, though. Shall we seek food and wine and be merry?" his free hand gestures in the vague direction that was pointed out earlier, starting to take a step or two in that direction. Satiet hops up onto Teonath's back, using her foreleg as a step. Satiet has left. If Satiet pretense unawareness of the chatter, Teonath does not, and only after her neck swerves to graze possessively over Leiventh's neck, does the pale queen take to flight. In a showy, and dangerous, fashion, she disappears into between just a few wingbeats above people's heads. Teonath has left. Above the northeastern area, Teonath launches into the sky from the northeastern corner of the Bowl. Above the northeastern area, Teonath disappears into Between. Zihsa nods agreeably on the matter of finding refreshment, giving herself a few seconds in which to consider his question. "Me? No, I don't," she answers honestly, sounding not the least bit bothered by it. "I don't intend to be. I prefer not to play those games. But she," The girl turns her head to watch as Teonath departs, "Was certainly affected, regardless my intentions." Twitching one shoulder upward in a half shrug, she offers R'hin a wry look. "Besides, your /hearth/? I'd hardly fit." "I don't even have a hearth," R'hin confesses. "That's a luxury reserved for... -respected- riders," he drawls, making it clear he's not one of those, "And, of course, our weyrwomen. Perhaps you'd settle for a small nook? A cranny, perhaps?" the dry words spoken in obvious jest, though the honest answer earns a considering look, perhaps a flicker of respect in the bronzerider's gaze. He, too, watches Teonath's departure, so close to the ground, with a tip of head. "She normally isn't so incatious," he ventures, after a pause, walking vaguely southwards. You make your way to the center of the bowl. Center of the Fort Weyr Bowl(#200RJ$) The Bowl of Fort Weyr, a large, featureless plain surrounded by steep mountain cliffs, stretches out around you. It is approximately oval in shape, about 2700 meters along the long axis running southwest to northeast, and about half that distance across the short axis. You stand in its approximate center. The soil of the bowl is somewhat sandy. To the northwest is the large cavern used for the Weyrling barracks. To the west is the fenced off area where the Weyr's herds are kept, and the lake shore is to the southwest. To the northeast can be seen the ledges for the junior queens and the weyrleaders. The large entrance to the Hatching Grounds can also be seen to the northeast and to the east are the Lower Caverns. Contents: Caitlyn Kintryth Katriel G'tive M'yr Nananthia Zahava(#18157PIJOXceqs$) Cansoth Obvious exits: Flight Cave Tunnel Infirmary Living Cavern Weyrling Barracks Northeastern Area Lake Shore Feeding Grounds Zihsa comes from the northeastern area. Zihsa has arrived. Caitlyn is quiet, no smile forthcoming as she steps up to the group, simply listening to their banter. Somehow partially hidden earlier, the short woman's purpling black and blue bruise upon left cheek gives her a touch of a hollow appearance. Katriel turns and smiles to the young woman she remembers from the hatching, a wave aborted as she sees her somber expression and the bruise, her brow quirking a little. "Not respected?" Zihsa offers her companion another dubious look. "I'm surprised you'd put yourself in that category. I would have pegged you as the sort who'd expect and demand it." In answer to his comments about the departed rider, she reaches over to pat his arm soothingly with her free hand. "She was simply out of sorts," she ventures, keeping her pace leisurely and even with R'hin's. There's another of her thoughtful pauses before she asks, carefully, "Unless she's always like that?" The picture of solicitous gentleman, the High Reaches bronzerider escorts the Telgarian across the bowl, R'hin's voice low, amused as he answers Zihsa, "Why? Simply because Leiventh is a bronze?" he counters, seeming to enjoy the talk, "That's hardly a stunning recommendation, given the random nature of impression." A grin, knowing and amused, as he answers her latter query, "Frequently. Hm. Where do you suppose we're meant to go from here?" he slows, frowning. "You would think they would put up -something- to indicate where this supposed feast is. Unless you've a sharp sense of smell?" the look he gives his companion is positively hopeful. Katriel looks to Gus, her hand still on the small of his back. "Shall we go?" G'tive must've gotten lost in his own thoughts as he just stares right through people. His dragon gives a little snort and it snaps Gus back to reality. "Oh, what Soth, of course it'll be alright." But then he just mumbles, "doesn't make it better /now/." Katriel's voice is heard and he bods. "Sure, back to Ista, I could use a few, maybe ten stiff drinks." Katriel shakes her head and sighs deeply, turning toward the brown dragon and waiting for her brother to mount up. Nananthia grins at Zahava, "So are you heading to the hatching feast? Might as well enjoy the fruits of the labor, right?" M'yr glances to his side where the elbow missed, shooting a smile toward Za before asking Gus, "Is everything all right? Yoou don't seem to be yourself tonight. And you're leaving already? Did you both eat? Oh and well met, Katriel!" "No," Zihsa answers, tipping her head to indicate that they should skirt around the crowd gathered at the center of the bowl. "It has nothing to do with your dragon -- Leiventh, you said?" Shaking her head, she keeps her expression blandly pleasant for the sake of observers, as if to suggest to outward observers that their conversation is composed of lighter fare. "It was simply an early observation based on what you've shown of yourself so far." The question of smells is met with a lopsided smile of apology. "It's good, but not that good. But I believe it may be over that way, given the crowd." Katriel looks between M'yr and G'tive and shakes her head. "No Sir, we haven't but I'm sure we will back in Ista. It's not a night of merry for all. Be well, please, and enjoy your grand evening!" she wishes with a sincere smile. Zahava shakes her head slightly. "No. I just came from there," she explains. "Everything seems to be in order with it, though. Everything under control," she assures the Headwoman. She lifts a hand to push her bangs back as she shoots a concerned look at G'tive and Katriel, missing Caitlyn in the shadows. R'hin, likewise, seems inclined to avoid the crowd in the center of the bowl, and allows Zihsa to steer them around, lengthening his pace slightly to match the taller woman's. "Ah, but I am a man of many talents, Zihsa, and many faces as well. I find the mysterious factor helps with the attraction of women, much as does the wearing of bright and shiny clothing." The words clearly facetious, accompanied by low chuckle, the bronzerider nods his head and moves in the indicated direction. You walk toward the southwest, where the edge of the lake laps onto a rocky beach. Fort Weyr Bowl, by the lake This long stretch of the bowl lies to the southeast of the feeding grounds. At its western end, near the wall, the ground dips down slightly to where a lake has formed. Dragons are often washed there by their riders, and both riders and their dragons often swim in the cool waters. The fenced off portion of the bowl for the Weyr's herds is to the northwest. To the north, a small structure built against the feeding ground pens serves as the Weyr's stables. Waves gently lap the shore to the west, and the rest of the bowl lies to the northeast. Contents: Fair Grounds Platform Sebring Traders Camp (STC) Khanari's Training Area (KTA)(#18814Je) Obvious exits: Herb Garden STable Feeding Ground LAke Center of Bowl Zihsa walks out along the lake shore. Zihsa has arrived. Zihsa slants her companion a sly look, a glint of laughter in her eyes, "In that regard I'm afraid I'll be something of a disappointment insofar as female company is concerned." Giving the set up on the lake shore a searching glance, she breaks out into a pleased smile at the sight of the food court, though her conversation continues down its previous path. "Shiny things do not appeal much to me, and mystery is not something with which I have much experience. I'm afraid you'll find me far too practical for that. So let's pretend," The word is delivered in an amused drawl, "That you and I are simply perfectly normal people without anything else to obscure or exaggerate the truth, and go from there. It might be a welcome change." R'hin's hand touches his chest in mock disbelief. "A woman who isn't distracted by something shiny? Perish the thought." He exhales slowly, "So, I guess that means I have to rely on my rugged good looks, my quick wits, and my skills on the dance floor to engender a positive and lasting opinion of me?" He, too, seems to look pleased when he spots the food court, and alters his path in that direction. "You mean... lie? Zihsa of Telgar, I'd do no such thing," his eyes glitter for a moment, "But for the request of an intelligent young woman, I'll make an effort. Normal, hm? That -would- be a new one for me." Fair Grounds Platform Many concession stands have been set up on this platform and are opened with attendants barking out over the crowd trying to gain the attention of the people strolling by. The noise and busyness of the grounds adds to the excitement of childrens laughter as they run from game to ride wanting to be the first to try everything. Neat circling walkways present themselves between the booths and the smells of pull candy and popping corn drift over the grounds. Contents: Candy Cart Test of Strength Game String Pull Game Dunk the Rider Game Swinging Dragon ride Fun Weyr Shooting Stars ride Obvious exits: Food Court Hold of Horrors You enter the busy fair grounds. Zihsa enters the busy fair grounds. Zihsa has arrived. "Think of it as less of a lie," Zihsa suggests laughingly as she steps onto the platform alongside him, "And more of a challenge." That he has once again given her what amounts to a compliment by calling her intelligent is not lost on her, and she flashes him a teasing half-smile. "I'm certain if you try very hard, you'll manage to pull it off with charm and finesse. And if you want to be perfectly honest about it, we /are/ simply normal people who are more often defined by our positions than our personalities. Can you fault me for wanting to be seen as more than my occupation?" By then proximity and the breezes have carried the tantalizing aromas from the food court in their direction, compelling her to inhale deeply. "I am reminded that I am utterly famished just now. I hope you're not offended by a hearty appetite." "Ah. Now, challenges I can do," R'hin visibly warms to the subject, strides lengthened to carry them that much quicker towards the food court, now that the smells can be detected. His voice rises a tad, to be heard above the clamour of the crowd, "Ah, but Zihsa, I know not of your occupation. For all -I- know, you could be Weyrwoman of Telgar. I did her the Senior recently retired, after all. It fulfils the... challenge... that much more if I don't know," he's quick to warn her, in case she should attempt to impart that particular information. "Offended? Not at all. Envious, perhaps. My own appetites are rather minimal... when it comes to food." Food Court(#6413RJ) Pale pebbles weave through darker stones, offering a clear meandering path towards the festively formal dinning tables and cloth dyed brown and orange draped chairs. A newly constructed dance gazebo, with a raised platform for the Harpers to occupy can be found at the end of another curving pale pebbled walkway. Strings of glows offer a warm lighting overhead while on each table sits a single glow floating in a bowl of water. The scent of roasting boar waifs and mingles with the other appetizing foods the Bakers have been busily preparing throughout this outdoor setting. Obvious exits: Fair grounds Zihsa has arrived. That, more than anything else he says, seems to amuse Zihsa beyond measure. "Caught in my own game, then." For that, R'hin earns a broad grin and a look of sincere respect. "So be it. I suppose that makes me the mystery tonight, doesn't it?" The assortment of food laid out for revellers is given a once over as they approach the tables, her expression indicated no small amount of pleasure at the promise of a good meal. "I fear you've alrady forgotten one salient point, however, in that I intend to take advantage of your better nature to gain a ride home. So you know, of course, that I am most assuredly /not/ the Telgar Weyrwoman. But if it pleases you to imagine it, who am I do argue?" "You'll find that position matters very little to me, Zihsa. Long before I become a rider I learnt to respect intelligence and wit above actual rank. Especially," he pauses, voice lowering conspiratorially, "In dragonriders." It's hard to tell whether he's speaking in the confines of the game or not. "As for being taken advantage of, that's never a position I minded, not when it comes to women," a low chuckle accompanies the words, "But-- you did speak of plying me with wine first? I believe I will take my payment out later with a dance, perhaps." He weaves his way through to the serving tables, taking a plate and offering it first to Zihsa, then collecting one for himself. "Oh, I'd like it better if you weren't, so it's a relief." He begins moving slowly along, heaping his plate. "I imagine one is more than enough to cope with," Zihsa replies teasingly, thanking him for the plate before stepping away to fill her plate. "This smells good," she notes absently, taking up a serving knife to skewer two slices of roast. Her plate, as she continues to examine the tables' contents, quickly acquires a surprisingly amount of food, likely leading to theories about her having hollow legs or something to hold it all. "Wine I can promise you, but a dance... that may take some plying on your part. I'm afraid I've little talent for it. I'm much better at climbing fences and trees than skittering about a dance platform. Shall we agree to a pact of mutual plying then?" Katriel has arrived. Katriel bows her head slightly as she enters. Zihsa and R'hin are both standing at one of the serving tables, choosing their fare while enjoying some affable conversation. Zihsa is filling her plate to generous and unladylike proportions while jesting about them plying eachother with wine for who knows what odd purpose. If anything, R'hin seems suitably impressed by the amount of food on Zihsa's plate. "Must cost Telgar a fortune to keep you in meals," the bronzerider remarks, his own plate a pale shadow of hers. He seems oddly disappointed about the lack of a dance, saying, "I managed to teach your former Weyrsecond to dance. I imagine I could at least make an attempt to teach you as well." Katriel gave her brother the slip to join in the festivities.. only to find it already winding down. Pain in the rump older boys. She sighs and moves toward the food tables herself, determined to at least get a good meal while she thinks through the drama of the evening. "I just wander into the feeding pens whenever I'm peckish," Zihsa comments blithely, her expression cherubic as she spoons a healthy dollop of mashed tubers onto her plate to top things off. "So long as I don't eat the dragons, they don't seem to mind." R'hin is given a look of surprise, "You don't value your feet much, do you? Still, it's only fair. I will graciously allow you to teach me to dance." Katriel moves past the pair with a quietly shy "Pardon me.." as she puts together her plate. Not wanting to interrupt and feeling a little awkward, she soon moves off with food and drink to one of the tables to sit. "You... what?" R'hin seems floored by Zihsa's response as he settles down into a seat, curling up a slice of herdbeast and munching on it, while eyeing the Telgarian dubiously. "That's not part of the game," he chides, washing down his food with a gulp of wine, before he flashes a grin at Zihsa. "Well if I'm plied with wine first, I figure it will dull the pain somewhat." An easy nod is given to Katriel as she chooses a seat nearby. Zihsa joins R'hin, and by dint of proximity, Katriel, at the table. The other girl is given a nod that echoes the bronzerider's, although she adds a polite smile in as well. "Ah, true enough. I suppose it isn't. Truth then, I only eat this much on special occasions, for the sake of not eating them out of hearth and weyrs." And for all that she has the appetite of a newly hatched dragon, she manages to eat rather neatly. "Well, if that's so," she continues, seizing onto the topic of dancing once more, "Then perhaps the wine will instill in me some extra grace. I should hate to send you home limping." Katriel sees the nods in her direction, returning them with one of her own and a friendly enough smile repaid for the girls. She keeps to herself and eats a little quickly, drinking little wine between. Before all to long, the sandwhich she's fixed is gone and she rises to take care of her plate and glass before she moves on. Katriel wanders over to the fair grounds. Katriel has left. "Plus," R'hin adds to Zihsa's words, "It's easier to bear eating another Weyr out of home and hearth. Especially," his voice lowers minutely, "When the hospitality isn't up to par to start with." His own hunger is assuaged a little more slowly, and he seems to be rather amused as he watches Zihsa devour her food. "It seemed to work for Yselle. Kind of," he amends, after a pause, taking another gulp from his glass. "How is the greenrider, anyway? Feel free to assume I'm attempting to make you jealous by asking about another woman, if you like," he offers, magnanimously. Zihsa nods silent agreement of his assessment while her mouth is otherwise occupied with food, then reaches for her glass to have her first sip of wine. A brow arches high as he speaks. "Yselle is well, as far as I am aware. I'm afraid I don't run in her circles." Another sip is taken as she considers his kindly offer. "Well, goodness. I am speechless with gratitude. Shall I pout and fume, or throw my wine at you?" The latter notion gives her pause, and sees her taking yet another drink. "Please understand if I mean you no slight by wishing to keep the wine for my own enjoyment. I suppose I could, perhaps," she continues, feigning reluctance, "Manage to say something catty and spiteful while flaunting myself in your line of sight. Do you have a preference?" "Feel free to do both," R'hin offers, hands held outwards as if awaiting an imminent drenching. A glitter of pale eyes is accompanied by an easy smile, "Oh, no question - I'd much prefer the flaunting." A low chuckle follows, eyes on Zihsa as if expecting her to follow through. "Glad to hear she's well. I'd heard she retired, so I was hoping it was nothing like ill health." "Age, I'm assuming," Zihsa returns, though she's by no means certain. Apparently she's not well versed in current events at Telgar. "You'll have to make do without the wine-throwing, I'm afraid. I'm far too thirsty. But, here, I'll grant you this much." So saying, she flips what there is to be flipped of her hair, titters girlishly -- which hardly seems to suit her -- and squeezes her upper arms against her sides in an attempt to pretend she has cleavage. "There, I've flaunted. Was that sufficient? I would try harder, but really, I think we can agree that I'm perfect as is." "I could get more?" R'hin offers, like he's disappointed with the outcome. "In fact, I will, since you're meant to be getting me drunk, and I don't want to interrupt your eating. I might lose a hand or something." With a wink, the bronzerider's up and striding for the serving tables, securing a wine bottle and returning post-haste to his seat. Refilling Zihsa's glass first, then his own, he continues after a long, appreciative look at the Telgarian, "Oh, that was perfect. If only you could teach Satiet to do that." Zihsa makes a great show of preening because, of course, that is what one is supposed to do in such a situation. Murmuring thanks for the refill, she takes up the glass, taking a good, long drink before setting it down again. "If the evening is to progress in such a vein, I fear I'll need to get a headstart on you," she explains, failing to look sheepish while doing so. "Teach her? Do you mean before or after she tears at my hair and plucks out my eyes?" "I'll be sure to keep your glass topped up," R'hin promises seriously, taking a sip of his own glass. He looks thoughtful for a moment at Zihsa's suggestion, eyes flickering upwards. "During, if I can arrange the suitable proliferation of mud." Zihsa nearly chokes on a mouthful of roast, though she recovers neatly, spearing R'hin with a look that makes false promises of violent retribution for causing that indignity. Composing herself, she moves for another bolstering drink, though she sips this time, before noting, "I can provide you with a plentitude of mud and muck, should you wish it." She sounds oddly serious. R'hin seems absurdly gleeful about provoking such a reaction, eyes glittering with unsuppressed amusement. "The muck, I think, I could do with out, since I'd undoubtedly be required to get between the two of you to break up the fight." Somehow, he manages to keep his tone largely serious, though a twitch of lips is visible here and there. Zihsa quirks a brow upward as she regards R'hin over the rim of her glass. "R'hin, my new friend, I have no doubt that you would, indeed, find it necessary to do just that, but I must point out that I am far too sweet and innocent and, indeed, ladylike, to ever apply any less than a perfectly innocuous meaning to such a situation." That lie she washes down with another mouthful of wine, of course. "Sweet and innocent? Ladylike. Hm. I can see I'm not upholding my duty to inflict suitable post-hatching drunkenness on you as yet." To suit his words, R'hin leans over to refill Zihsa's glass, even if it's only one mouthful-worth. "Does that also mean I'm honor-bound not to take advantage of you?" Zihsa watches as he plips more wine into her glass, her expression suggesting she's having a harder time suppressing her amusement than he is. Indulging in yet another drink -- for she is an obliging sort apparently, and true to her stated intention of becoming drunk -- she clears her throat and shoots R'hin a look of mild curiosity. "Is there some advantage to be taken? I would not have guessed it." "That's entirely up to you. I can certainly see an advantage, but then, I -am- a rider. We're known to have very base desires and needs. It comes from putting our lives on the line every day, every time we between, practicing for the day Thread returns." And now, R'hin's clearly laying it on pretty thickly, and it's obvious he doesn't even believe the truth of the words - but it is a part of the game. Zihsa breaks into a spate of full-throated laughter, her eyes echoing her mirth. Lifting her glass in a toast, she offers him a shake of her head, "Ah, now, /that/ is unfair. Were I of less stalwart character, I might be forced to swoon, and offer myself wholeheartedly upon the altar of your stunning courage and self-sacrifice, simply to assuage the guilt of knowing the dangers you put yourself through daily on behalf of myself, as well as all of Pern." Two knives can lay it on thicker, after all. "I'm not a fair person, Zihsa. I'll take any and every advantage I can to get what I want." That, too, could be taken a few different ways, and the easy expression on his face is difficult to read past the faint amusement. "I'll remind you, it's not too late to do just that. Though I wouldn't recommend doing it here. Even that would be a little much to inflict on a foreign Weyr." Zihsa heaves a sigh of dismay, a hand already lifted to her brow as if in preparation for a nice, dramatic swoon, "Oh bother. Now you've ruined all my plans. I'd a nice spot just off the platform picked out for swooning and everything." Her pout is unconvincing, if slightly comical, and she quickly abandons it in favor of another drink. "Perhaps I could just dishevel myself a bit, in deference to you and the local population. Would that suffice?" Whether she's serious or not is not, it seems, the question of the moment, so much as her next, "But were one to ask, how would you answer the question of just .what. you want?" "It would certainly go a long way to upholding my reputation," R'hin agrees amiably, leaning over to refill the Telgarian's glass, then his own. He seems to be largely done with his plate of food, just a few scraps left over here and there. "What I want?" He seems to consider the question seriously for a moment, before answering within the confines of the game, "Right now, I'm very interested in knowing who you really are and what you do, Zihsa of Telgar." Zihsa's plate of food has been largely forgotten in favor of her seemingly bottomless glass of wine. "Two very different answers would be required to answer that," she admits, watching him intently for a long moment. "I could be anything, as you yourself said." She seems to sift through the possible answers silently, perhaps looking for a way to offer them without bending the spirit of the game. "Who I am I think you can answer for yourself to some degree, though it would by no means be a complete answer. What I do? It could be a multitide of things. Are you certain you want to know? I should hate to shatter any illusions you might be harboring." A beat, then, "You are someone, I think, who is very interesting, and could be very useful to me. I see... enormous potential in you." At some point - it's not precisely clear where - R'hin's dropped the game entirely. He's focused on Zihsa with a disturbing intensity, pale eyes studying her closely. "Potential I hope that does go to waste at Telgar, for I have a high opinion of them and would hate to have to revise it." Zihsa has the grace to look mildly unsettled under that regard, though it's a short-lived reaction that she quells ruthlessly, drowning it in another quick sip. "You do me too much honor, R'hin," she states after a drawn out pause. "But what would you say if I was a laundress? Or a spit-cook? Or, perhaps, someone who spends their days shovelling the dung and offal from the weyr's feeding pens? You could hardly fault Telgar for the circumstances of my birth and upbringing, could you?" Finally, as if allowing her a reprieve, R'hin glances away, taking a sip of his own wine, though his voice is still serious, and the level of the liquid in the glass doesn't seem to have diminished much. "I would be disappointed that no one has yet seen the potential in you that I do, and nurtured it. It doesn't matter what you -are-, it matters what you could -be-, Zihsa of Telgar." Zihsa darts him a look of confusion, as if that was not at all the response she expected. Eyes narrowing in unspoken speculation, she hides behind her wine glass again, her gaze lingering on him, as if she half expects him to do something to somehow negate what he's said. Perhaps make of it a jest. "I've gone to a great deal of trouble to keep my head down through the turns, doing my best to avoid allowing anyone an opportunity to judge me for what I was born to. Would it disappoint you to know that I'd not thought much beyond that point? The fault is less in those I reside with and more in me, if, indeed, there is fault to be claimed." Another sip, another pause, but a only as long as it takes for her to clear her mouth again. "Would there be an answer if I asked what it is you thought I could be?" "Then you do yourself a disservice, Zihsa, and I begin to wonder why. But that, perhaps, is too far outside the bounds of the game." Even though he has already broken it, he reminds of it, deliberately. R'hin's hands spread, as he answers, "Is there a point in answering, if - as you've said - you've no wish to take advantage of it, if it were offered?" "I don't recall saying that," Zihsa counters, rising to his bait without, perhaps, realizing it. Her glass is held poised before her mouth, as if it could serve as a shield against whatever else might be said. "Can you fault me for being curious?" "Not at all," R'hin answers, smiling warmly. "However, it is a discussion, I think, for when you are sober." He drains off the rest of his glass, then gestures to hers. "I think perhaps I ought to get you home while I can still remember what Telgar looks like." That is, obviously, a mite bit exaggerated, relying on the generosity of the Telgarian not to call him on the obvious lie. Zihsa doesn't, of course, given that even tipsy, she can be gracious. Her glass is emptied as well, and upended before being set back on the table, in a gesture much akin to using a snuffer to put out a candle, before rising to follow him. "That would be for the best, yes. I think we've finished the steps of the first dance well enough for one night." "Though, one of these days, I mean to claim an actual dance," R'hin says by way of warning, once more offering his arm under guise of a steadying hand. |
Leave A Comment