Logs:Teonath and Sruth's Clutch Hatches

Teonath and Sruth's Clutch Hatches
"Well, you might get trampled, but you're not going to get eaten."
RL Date: 27 August, 2005
Who: C'len, L'sen, Sarisia, Satiet, Savaughna, Sria, S'din, Suraiya, S'vorin, Te'an, X'dyr
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: Teonath and Sruth's eggs hatch.
Where: Hatching Grounds, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 28, Month 7, Turn 4 (Interval 10)
Your location's current time: 20:05 on day 31, month 7, Turn 54, of the Tenth Pass. It is a summer evening. Sria has arrived. Up on the ledges, A slender Istan green selects a ledge for perch, and from her neck debarks both her rider and V'lano. Brybeth adds her melodious, trilling hum almost immediately to hatching music, while her rider clings to a knee and gazes downward. V'lano, for his part, squeezes around to the green's other side and hails anyone within distance with a softspoken repetition of what St'vren just said, unawares of being the other Telgari's echo. Up on the ledges, Verenth starts to hummmmmmmm. In the galleries, S'rist wanders up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, S'rist has arrived. Up on the ledges, Xalerth lands lightly on the ledge, no sooner have all four feet in the ground than his own deep throated hum of anticipation emerges. B'rakis climbs down the straps to the ground, already looking in the direction of the hatching sands. "It's just started, right? Have we missed anything?" Up on the ledges, Elindath joins in the humming, her alto blending a sweet harmony. From a passageway, Satiet emerges drawing up her dark hair into a low held bun. While pristine, an unnerved jitter that matches that of her lifemate's wing flutters intrudes on her purposeful stride, lending a distinctive offbeat that seems to be displaced as her dark boots hits the uneven sands. It's towards Teonath she walks, with little regard for Sria, whether the sire's rider follows or not, or is already present, and a hand lifts to press reassuringly against the soft hide of wheaten gold. In the galleries, Cynara slips into the stands, finding herself a good spot. On her shoulder, a blue firelizard sort of hums, then stops, then looks at the eggs, as if not quite sure. Up on the ledges, "Absolutely nothing...sir." That last as St'vren belatedly notices B'rakis' knot. Hey, it's dark and things are getting distracting. "There's Satiet, I guess the Candidates can't be far behind. Did Volath help you sneak out, V'lano, or did you have to bribe someone?" Not that he's enjoying being footlosse and fancy-free, not at all. Up on the ledges, Verenth hrumphs and makes more room for himself as he is jiggered by an Istan dragon. His quiet hum continue as the eggs' rocking starts to pick up momentum. Sria's not far behind Satiet, and she too heads for her dragon, with a glance toward the clutchdam on her way. Which lifemate comforts which is left to speculation, if that's at all what the silent conversation regards - soon, Sria's smiling, Sruth remains peacefully humming, and the brownrider looks over toward the eggs. In the galleries, S'rist passes by the hospitality table to grab himself a sandwich before moving further down to get a good seat for viewing the hatching. Up on the ledges, V'lano startles at St'vren's voice. He turns a few times, then finally picks out the other Telgar rider - or rather, Rusuth. St'vren himself is located by locale near that major, bronze landmark. "I bribed someone," the Weyrsecond returns with an easy laugh. "Better than bringing -him.- He's so full of himself at the moment - and if I pried him away, mark my words all he'd do here is twitter away at Teonath." Up on the ledges, Rusuth is a thrumming bronze landmark tonight, which makes him all the more obvious. St'vren, snickering, grins at V'lano. "Congratulations on your successful clutching and successful bribery. I'll be sure to have Rusuth tell Volath all the fun he's missing...twitter? Volath /twitters/?" The mental image is just plain confounding. Teonath, for whatever reason, hasn't fidgeted with the eggs in a while - perhaps after they've hardened, some instinct sinks in to just stop with the messing around. So the eggs are all over the place, and not in any of her neat little, or joking for that matter, arrangements. There's no circle created, no row of good little egglings with their drill instructor dam pacing. There is, however, some sense of comfort from the eggs: each hard shell, with brilliant and dark shells speckling the pale sands, trembling in their little nests. Up on the ledges, Verenth humms more vigorously. Up on the ledges, B'rakis flashes a quick grin at St'vren, "Thanks. Ista's duties, by the by," he adds as an afterthought, looking around to include others. As he spies the Istan green and the two riders, he gives first the woman a wave, and a slower one for V'lano. "Nice night, eh?" Sruth brings his tail across the sands in a slow swish, letting it rest on the side nearer his mate, tip flicking at sporadic intervals. Sria doesn't appear to notice, but she does lift a hand to his neck - and though his eyes remain steadily on the eggs, his rider's shift to Satiet and Teonath. In the galleries, Josilina strides up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, Josilina has arrived. Up on the ledges, "In here," V'lano replies, tapping his temple with two fingers. His grin is bright and bemused. "Or that's my take on it, anyway. I'm sure he'd call it something else. Being sweet on her, maybe." Brows waggle, but skeptical, good-natured fondness wins out over any kind of smirkiness. "And thanks. She's just brilliant, takes to it like a natural." Whether he's speaking of the Istan queen currently on the black sands or of her rider is not particularly clear. Behind him, Isba hops and waves enthusiastically back at her Weyrleader, and after a moment, the Telgari echoes the motion, offering B'rakis an almost rueful grin. "Great night." Up on the ledges, Elindath shuffles back on the ledge, eager to observe the proceedings but just as eager to keep space between herself and the gathering crowd. Her hum increases in intensity, though that couldn't possibly be to drown out V'lano's words of praise at the clutchmother or her rider. Up on the ledges, St'vren absently pats Rusuth's neck as the bronze's attention shifts from the sands to Elindath for a moment. "/Behave/. She /is/ taking to it? That's good, there was some bet--some talk around after the flight that she wouldn't, since it took so long for her to rise. Is there a gold egg? I'm behind on gossip, Rusuth and I have been distracted these last several days." Whatever his opinion of the goldrider in question, it will remain politely complimentary in the presence of the Isna Weyrleader. S'din has arrived. S'din strides out onto the sands and inclines his head to Teonath, Sruth, Sria and Satiet. He quirks a grin, obviously remembering bygone years when he taught these very riders. He steps off to the side then, motioning with his hand. Up on the ledges, V'lano strolls closer to St'vren to carry on conversation more properly, leaving Brybeth and her rider to watch avidly for any eggs that might be thinking of shaking down there. "She certainly is. And it's hard to tell - there's a few nice-sized ones, and one I've got my eye on, but Volath won't confirm anything. Again." V'lano snorts softly, then flicks a brief gesture at the sands below. "But that one down there came out of an egg he claimed he knew nothing about, too, and she certainly seems to be a proper queen. Who knows." Cullen's laughing softly at something as he comes onto the sands, pace matched with that of Lassen's. His steps shift to a kind of hop-walk as the discomforting warmth penetrates the thin sandles, like the Bollian beaches of his home but much more intense. Sria's slight smile, eyeing the eggs and parents and entrance all at once, widens to a grin upon S'din's entrance, returning his greeting with the quickness of her own. As candidates begin to stream in, she spares a brief glance for the galleries, then returns her attention. Up on the ledges, Kannanth emerges from the tunnel to the bowl, circling momentarily before he backwings to a neat landing on on one of the ledges overlooking the sands. Up on the ledges, Kannanth has arrived. Up on the ledges, S'lek has arrived. Up on the ledges, S'lek slides pell-mell down Kannanth's shoulder, whooping to warn the people on the ground of his rapid descent, and lands with a THUMP! Lassen, with a bright grin on his face, keeps step with Cullen as he enters the sand. Then: "O--" he begins to yelp, cutting himself off with a rather nervous glance over at watching dragons and crowds. "This's /hot/!" he finally settles for hissing at Cullen. Selvorin trots out onto the sands, hand trapped in Savaughna's grasp, and starts picking up his feet higher. But he grits his teeth, uncomplaining about the heat. As the candidates file out, two by two, a loose semi-circle emerges, a few shifts happening so friends can stand with friends, some with hands clasped. When it seems everyone has assembled, and after nerves compels a young girl to squeak nervously, the circle bows to both dam and sire - unison is difficult, but at least it gets the job done. Savaughna has hold of Selvorin's hand. The heat doesn't seep through the bottom of her sandals just yet, and she glances up casually to the stands and the higher ledges. "If my sister isn't here, she's dead." She comments to her partner. "And, for what it's worth, I don't like her either." As per their earlier conversation. Raindrops on Roses Egg rocks back and forth a few times, then slows to a halt. Other than dislodging some sand, it didn't accomplish much. Selvorin half-grins, half-smirks at Savaughna. "Dragons know," he remarks cryptically, then adds a question. "What's your sister's name?" Small talk makes waiting-for-something-to-happen-that-hopefully- doesn't-involve-bloody-dismemberment that much easier. Up on the ledges, Branagh emerges from the tunnel to the bowl, circling momentarily before he flutters down to land on on one of the ledges overlooking the sands. Up on the ledges, Branagh has arrived. Terlan comes out with Maja, though he looks a little disgruntled about something. Could be because his robe's been tugged over so it's not straight anymore. He tries to fix it as he walks out onto the sands and just sticks his tongue out at her after muttering, "How rude." Then he falls into place with the rest of the candidates. Up on the ledges, S'lek walks to the very edge of the ledge, scanning the sands to get a good look at all the candidates. "There she is," he says in satisfaction, and walks back to lean against Kannanth's thigh, shoving hands into his pockets as he watches and waits for things to get underway. Up on the ledges, Something about Teonath as a proper queen, or perhaps her rider, makes St'vren smile lopsidedly. "Oh, so dragons /aren't/ all-knowing about eggs. That's a useful fact to know." Rusuth's serene humming (and occasional sidelong glances at the greens present) does not falter, though a swirl of amused green shades his whirling eyes. "Here they come. I suppose I'd be more excited if I knew any of them..." Suraiya fixes her robe after the bow, hopefully without breaking any of the weak stitches, and starting up her feet on the hatching dance. "Ooh, forgot how nice the eggs are up close." A wary glance is casted towards the queen before they move towards the stands. "Ya think Dhirath's up there?" She points to the ledges with her free hand. She gives a wave towards the galleries and ledges either way, suspecting some of her family would be around. There's a quick exhalation of air from Xeledyr after the group have bowed to the dam and sire, his fringe being jostled by the movement of air. Another glance is given to Lisle - though no hand is offered for comfort or support. "Here we go." He mutters quietly, having caught the movement of the eggs. Satiet leans her shoulder against Teonath's side, mindful to stay out of the way of any stray, nerve-wracked wings that might fly out, and slants Sria a look. It's only after she notices the candidates coming out, and their bow that she straightens, casting her attentions from them to the galleries and ledges searchingly. Two short strides takes her closer to where Sria may be, and the brownrider is offered a brief nod, acknowledgement in her pale gaze, "Ready?" As if that should matter, really. Sarisia watches the rocking egg, gulping down a bit. "Huh, looks like it's having trouble." She states as she looks around, slightly nervous. "I'm sure he is." Stormy Summers Egg rocks from side to side prior to rolling backwards into the Raindrops of Roses egg with a rather sharp cracking sound but still no appearance from its occupant. The egg stills as if the dragonet inside may have been startled by the movement. Maja finishes her bow, nearly the most proper of the line, then finds a spot on the sands. "And you're vain. Stop worrying." Finally giving herself time to take in the event, she gazes around. "The eggs are moving. I think you'd better watch -them- and not your gown." Bright blue and dark brown separate at long last, fractures in the shell of Beautifully Lazy Day Egg tracing the lines of color, peaking jaggedly where the shades blend so smoothly. Fragments fall away, larger pieces of shell clinging to the goo-covered form of a slender green hatchling. She remains quite still for a few protracted moments, ignoring the sticky remains of her former home, and only alters her position after a glimpse of her dam and sire, now marginally more acquainted with her surroundings. Sylphlike, she turns her head first and then steps away from the wet fragments, moving directly to one of the older candidates - one with a pug nose and muscular build. Dasrie's surprise is obvious, and it steals all her words, save one: "Arkaiyeth!" The sudden stirring of the eggs and anxiety level of the candidates gets to Cullen. The candidate scratches at his head nervously, then runs his hand through newly-shorn, uneven hair. He pats it down conscientiously, wanting to look his best for whatever might be to come. Up on the ledges, Verenth stops humming as the first youngster, a green, Impresses! Lisle's hands are all curled white-knuckled into her equally white robe anyway. "It's a very different thing being out here for this instead of in the stands," she tells Xeledyr quietly, a tight tension in her voice to match her alert, round eyes. Her gaze slips over the galleries, over the eggs and then over her fellow candidates. "Here we go," she agrees. Fidgety Lassen peers all around the sands in curiousity, boggling at the eggs one by one. Then, as the one hatches, his eyes widen still further, and he attempts to elbow Cullen next to him. "Shards! Did you see that?" he asks, helpfully pointing at Dasrie and her green. Raindrops on Roses Egg rocks again, more strongly. A faint tapping sound comes from within, lost in the insanity of a Hatching. The area hit by the Stormy Summers Egg starts to crack, but alas no little claw or nose pokes through. Up on the ledges, "Or mine isn't, anyway. I'm still not sure he and Lhiannonth didn't know - and that Lhiannonth didn't just keep him mum to suit her own fancy," V'lano replies. He's quiet for a while after that, nodding mutely to St'vren's comment about not knowing the candidates, and watches - whispers in the crowd drawing attention to wiggling eggs, then applause to a first hatching and swift impression. "I told you to watch out for the hatchlings for me." Terlan quips, but once she calls it a /gown/ he does stop picking at it. Mmph. He flickers his gaze out to where the eggs are starting to hatch and grins as a green finds her lifemate on the sands, continuing to clutch at Maja's hand. Sarisia watches the impression momentarily before she gives off a chuckle. "Green." She states as she begins her own dance. "Hmm, it's hotter then usual." And with a quick glance at her feet she knows why. "Ah, no sandals." Savaughna grins sidelong at Selvorin, "Her name's Rulana. Though truth be told I have lots of sisters. But she's the best one. She buys me things." A wink, before her eyes of course, are averted to the rocking eggs and newly impressed candidate-or is that weyrling now? She drops Sel's hand briefly to wipe her own sweaty hands at her sides, and then through her very knotted bed-headed hair. Suraiya squeaks out at the sudden eruption of egg and green dragonet. "Aw, a green." Her disappointment is clear. "Guess it wasn't a blue first at the end.. But that was quick, right! Bet the rest will come faster now." Her eyes trail over to the rose egg. "An' that's one of my favorites..." Her eyes glance to her feet and she frowns. "That's stupid of you.." Sria's glance goes across to Sruth's tail, which appears to be playing with the top layer of sand, the tip digging beneath and then surfacing, striped by the pale grains. It stills, however, just as Sria turns back, catching the first Impression with a slight intake of breath. After a moment spent watching Dasrie and Arkaiyeth, she replies to Satiet with a nod. "And you?" Up on the ledges, Elindath first tries bunching herself up against the back wall of the ledges, trying to gather height and see over the assembled dragons. When her view is still obstructed, she slithers sideways, winding up by Malicith, her forelimbs and head leaning over the ledge to get a good look. A soft croon is given candidates -she- helped lure here, its intent vague. Stormy Summers Egg seems to pulse in its position on the sands. The crack previously made still is not wide enough to see anything inside. With a sharp movement, the egg spins to the right, stops and then to the left, spraying sand everywhere. Rachiel watches the green hatchling Impress and looks back to the eggs that are rocking back and forth. She picks up her feet one at a time as they start to burn from the hot sands. The first impression of the clutch brings forth a genuine expression of joy from Xeledyr as the green's name is announced. Gray gaze flickers back to the eggs from the newly impressed pair, his nose wriggling a little at the heat, and arms held out a little from his body to allow for maximum exposure to air. Up on the ledges, St'vren claps softly as that first green Impresses, completely unaware of the somewhat sappy smile on his face. "They seem so /small/ now. They were big, all claws and fangs and noise, from the Sands. Yes, lad, especially you." Selvorin takes the opportunity to wipe his own sweaty hand on his robe. He doesn't reach for Savaughna's again, either, though he's more or less resigned to holding hands with her if she should insist. The sound of a cracking shell seems to rattle him; he glances that way nervously, gulps, and then stares at the rocking-est of the eggs, that Raindrops on Roses Egg. Satiet's attention quickly flicks away from a person in the ledges back to the sands, just missing Dasrie's Impression to the first green. Teonath, however, with her keen eyes lets out a croon of approval, for the new pair, and swivels the slender length of her neck to regard Sruth with quiet pride. "I'll survive. I haven't eaten all day," she confesses in low tones, shoulders hunching inward beneath the folds of the airy-black of her attire. Up on the ledges, Sionath emerges from the tunnel to the bowl, circling momentarily before she swoops down to a landing on on one of the ledges overlooking the sands. Up on the ledges, Sionath has arrived. Maja's brows raise at the first Impression, and she mentions, "Dasrie will make a nice... talkative rider." She purses her lips as the next egg swirls, suddenly blinking, pulling her hand from Terlan's and using it to wipe her eyes. "Ach, sand." Blink. Up on the ledges, Emilly vaults down Sionath's side to the ground, using her straps as handholds. Up on the ledges, Emilly has arrived. Up on the ledges, B'rakis joins in with the rest, cheering as the first Impression takes place. "An excellent start, definitely," he says with a grin, glanncing at the others on the stands. "Thank Faranth they don't stay that small for long, cleaning up after them isn't fun at all." "Wow," Cullen murmurs, acknowledging Lassen's remarks, with a hint of relief as the first dragonet find its match. He grins for the pair, then shifts closer so that he can mutter something to Lassen, something that may go unheard in the noise of the caverns. Sarisia gives a slight huff. "Well excuse me for being in a rush, I just kinda forgot them." She sends her eyes over to the stands, trying to spot familiar faces. "I hope they hatch quickly, my feet are gonna--" But she simply stops and stares at the spinning egg, completely amazed. Cuppa and Cream Egg seems to swirl, as if stirred by a cosmic spoon, its creamy colors becoming a storm of milky klahs and teas. It's an optical illusion caused by the trembling vibrato of the shell, motion in turn inspired by the reckless spirit inside. In the galleries, Tirom strides up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, Tirom has arrived. Up on the ledges, "It'd be nice if they stayed small," V'lano reflects, "but learned to take care of themselves. Of course, if they were too small they wouldn't be much good for fighting thread." Not that this is a major issue these days, and a wry twist of his smile matches a faintly distant look in his eye that distracts him briefly from all the motion below. Terlan is difficult to pull away from, his gaze fixed on the moving eggs, though Maja does get her hand free. He rubs at his eyes with his now-free hands, and grimaces at her a moment after. He sure doesn't seem very comfortable being out on the sands, but there he stands watching. Lassen bounces from foot to foot, wincing at after step. He nods, though, to Cullen's words, grinning again. "This is really wild, you know? I mean, all these eggs and dragons and stuff..." Eloquent, isn't he? "See, another--oh, whoops. That's not one." He shakes his head, eyeing the latest egg to rock without hatching. "C'mon, hurry up," he urges it. The stormy summers egg's wobbling ceases suddenly as scraping and scrabbling from within herald the appearance of lightning white striations across its foggy blue surface. A bronze muzzle bursts through the egg's apex a moment later, followed by its yolk-slick head and sinuous neck, all of which execute a wary three sixty before the creature retreats inside, wide-eyed, for one last effort at escape. Within a matter of seconds, the egg has sprouted feet, a muzzle, and a tail trying very hard to trail behind it in dignified fashion. Rough Around the Edges Bronze There is no escaping it, the first thing anyone is apt to notice about this bronze, other than perhaps his color, is that long, distinctively pointed snout of his. Not to mention a set of especially prominent, front-top fangs. Hide of dusky amber, darkens markedly over the tip of his muzzle and in the hollows along the angular plains of his face, just as it does along paws tipped in talons of onyx. Large eyes are placed close together to contrast the wide-set of pearlized headknobs and rich shades of a shimmering cinnamon stretch over whipcord and sinew, just as it does across the delicate sails making up the expanse of narrow wings. Tones of dark russet trace the line of smooth, but raked-back neck ridges, before lightening at the pale tip of his long, flexible tail. Small for his color, his frame is thin, rangy, narrower at the fore than the aft, possessing strong hindquarters to propel him quickly aloft when the time comes. Raindrops on Roses Egg trembles as hairline cracks continue blossoming into wider ones, until the fractured shell falls away like water, revealing a small, precisely molded brown hatchling. Weathered Regard Brown Slight and compact, this brown dragonet's small body is unusual for its near-perfect proportions. Possessing none of the gangly tails or unkempt wings of some of his clutchmates, he is imbued with a certain inarguable strength, as if his potential is ill-concealed beneath the coarse muscles of his light brown hide. Lighter tones peak in slight hints of gray upon his headknobs, though he is palest along the path of his neckridges, a dusty trail of tan striping his back. A darker shade of well-brewed klah extends from his slim belly to his maw, and his slim wings unfold to a palette of earthy hues, darkening from the light tan along his spine to the deep carob of his fingerjoints. The blending and swirling of colors present a visual of desert to dusk stirring into this particular dragon's pot, an illusion mirrored around his deeply-shaded eyes. Up on the ledges, St'vren chuckles at B'rakis and V'lano's take on things. "I don't miss the cleaning-up," he agrees, curling his lip, "but the eternal washing and oiling of this...big bronze barge is sometimes a chore." The barge in question rumbles once without breaking the rhythm of his humming. "Much easier when he was small enough to carry, though that stage lasted about a sevenday--bronze /and/ brown, look at that." Savaughna grabs Selvorin's hand again. He's not getting rid of her that easily. "Hold my hand," she hisses at him as she captures it, tugging lightly. As two more dragonets spill from their eggs, she lets out a deep sigh, "I've got bets on who impresses the first bronze." A pause, then, "Did you bet on anything?" Rough Around the Edges Bronze tumbles out onto the Sands, somehow rolling head over tail until he finds himself in a standing position, wings splayed out to keep his precarious balance. His body is dotted with the Sands that have kept him cozy and warm which lends an unusual look to the young bronze. He tilts his wedge-shaped head slightly, blinking his lids in that 'I meant to do that' look. After all, something so bronze and handsome is not klutzy nor accident-prone. Really. Maja blinks a few more times, chewing on grittiness in her teeth, before she glances down at Terlan's uncomfortableness. "You can hide behind me, if you want. I rather think they'd come along from in front, so me keeping your back won't do much." Suraiya is staring at the antics of the strange eggs, obviously unfamiliar with them spinning all of a sudden. "Huh?" she mentions towards her twin. "Forgot 'em? Your feet are gonna fall off now." As quickly as she ends that statement, she pulls Sari's hand. "Look!" And she's pointing again. "Bronze, see! I wonder if there's gonna be any more." Sria flicks her gaze upward, and Sruth stretches his tail toward Teonath. "You haven't?" says Sria, removing her eyes from the convulsing eggs to allow Satiet her gaze - but only briefly, as she's soon eyeing the forms of one bronze, and one brown. Sruth rumbles a low greeting that's full of dark, delighted encouragement. Sarisia watches as a bronze crawls from the remains of the previously spinning egg. "Yah, I see it," Sari replies to her sister. "Kinda clumsy, ain't he?" Up on the ledges, B'rakis chuckles, "I can usually corral some of the weyrkids to help out, that helps cut time down a lot. At least you don't have to oil them every day anymore, the washing isn't too bad... Oh hey!" he points down at the sands where the bronze and brown have just emerged from their eggs. Weathered Regard Brown kicks his way clear of his former home, sending egg shards and goo flying everywhere. No rolling around for him, thank you very much. He takes a couple of shaky steps forward, then stops to shake out his wings. He looks around at this new place, eyes already beginning to whirl redly. Hmpf! Not very well organized, is it? Lassen declares triumphantly, "Ha!" as though he made those two eggs hatch just then. "Bronze, /and/ a brown. Who d'you think'll impress, huh?" he queries to Cullen without looking over at the other candidate. Instead, he watches the dragons, daring to laugh at the bronze's clumsiness. Two eggs crack their shells and leave dragons in their wake. Xeledyr's brows arc upwards, and a step toward Lisle is taken - his bravado slipping a little. "Kind of glad they're over there and we're over here when they do that." His gaze keeps flickering between the dragonets that have started to roam, and the eggs that still remain. Selvorin startles, squeezing Savaughna's hand convulsively as an egg cracks, and then another - a brown, emerging right out of that egg that he was staring at. "Oh. Wow," he says, wetting his dry lips. "So... there they are, huh?" he says to his companion, standing as if rooted; he's even forgotten to shuffle his feet. Cullen's feet shift, almost of their own accord, one held aloft to cool while the other endures the warmth, then reversed. Like his feet, the eyes shift, from dragonet to eggs then over to Lassen, snorting softly. "They seem to listen to you," he says, finding amusement in the coincidence. Up on the ledges, Sionath sidles in for a late landing very neatly and parks herself taking up a minimum of space before discharging her rider with a maximum of efficiency. Emilly gives her jacket a tug for neatness and squints around the ledge, giving a wave of greeting for familiar faces here and there, before peering down below. Terlan glowers a bit at Maja, and lifts his chin, "I'm not scared. They're not as big as I thought." He says, glancing at the brown and the bronze that're fumbling about on the sands. He just tries to stealthily reach for Maja's hand again, really, he's not uncomfortable at all. Cuppa and Cream Egg stirs into motion again, a stronger vibration turning into an outright shake. A few grains of sand even go flying from the strength of the shell's motion, but eventually this too settles, allowing the creature inside a moment to take a breather before trying again. Lisle's eyes go a little wider as dragons start popping out of eggs and impressing and all. "Shards, it happens fast," she murmurs to Xeledyr. "Yeah, they don't plan on staying over there, though." She glances over at Lassen and Cullen, a weak smile for them, then her eyes are back on those erupting eggs. "Haven't," Satiet confirms with a tight-lipped smile. "I'll eat afterwards, something or other, or an apple if you have one handy on you." Not that _that's_ likely. But as two dragons emerge from their respective shells one right after the other, the slight goldrider's attention becomes riveted, and a slow remark forms on her lips, the first syllable of which drawls out as if in prolonged thought, "It's... different than before." Besides being on the other side of things, though still on the sands, there's also none of the camaraderie here with her that the candidates have and it's to them that faintly wistful blue eyes flick. Melt In Your Mouth Egg shifts slightly, a slight tremor freeing a few stray grains of sand from the egg's rounded top. They shimmy quickly to the cavern floor, highlighting the second tremor that sets metallic bits of green to glimmer beneath the light. "The brown's kinda cute, ain't he?" Sari states as she watches the dragonet take in his surrounding. She moves back slightly, a blue dragonet moving a bit too close. Rough Around the Edges Bronze stretches out his forelegs before moving forward toward the ogling creatures in white. He lets out a wicked sounding croon as he flicks a shell fragment toward his brown sibling to distract and then "accidently" flicks his tail toward the brown's feet. His whirling eyes, however, cast side to side, seeking his lifemate. Slowly he turns, step by step, inch by inch and peers toward a gaggle of giggle girls before releasing a nasal sounding bugle in greeting. A ladies man, it seems. Up on the ledges, Elindath whips her tail about in approval of the first green Impression, finding that very much to her liking. She makes room for Sionath, then leans her head down on her forelimbs, assessing the emerging dragonets as though they might all be potential friends, foes, or pawns. Suraiya shrugs a shoulder, now concentrating more on shifting her feet. "Well, guess he is.. With his egg spinning an' all, I'd be dizzy after hatching." She glances towards the other eggs. "They're all bound to go off now." She turns to the brown. Oh yes, there's a brown. "Guess so.." "Maybe I should, I dunno, tell 'em all to hurry, then," Lassen remarks to Cullen, nodding slowly. He glances again at bronze and brown, then finds an egg, the as-yet-unhatched Cuppa and Cream Egg. "Okay, your turn," he instructs it. And catching Lisle's glance out of the corner of his eye, he offers a distracted wave to his friend. Up on the ledges, "And quickly, too," V'lano distractably replies to St'vren, taking a step forward to peer down, as if moving very far on the ledge is at all likely to provide a better veiw. Brybeth, an Istan green not far from the Telgari Weyrsecond, lifts the trill of her hatching-encouragement hum a half-step for Sionath's arrival, then resettles into her usual note. Cullen catches the end of his robe's sleeve in his hand, twisting the ends of it with fingers grown damp with sweat. The sleeve still has one hole near the shoulder, not yet repaired, which could provide air conditioning if there were any sort of available breeze. There's a return grin for Lisle, before his attention is drawn by the carob-shaded egg's twitching. "They're still capable of hurting you," Maja notes, reveling in Terlan's fairly obvious timidity. Still, she lets him take her hand again and in fact squeezes it. "You know, if you don't Impress, there aren't any more restrictions." Small-talk. Sleeping Toddler Egg suffers under the intense heat of the sands, and that pale triangle of light seems to widen, morning breaking beyond swept-aside curtains as the shell splits across its cream colors. Provoked into meeting the day, the egg's young blue occupant lets out a shriek of fury, tempered into a frail warble as though put off by his own voice. Stumbling away from his shell, he discovers one gooey foreclaw, and then the other, and shakes the first so vigorously that he topples over, prompting yet another mournful lament. A candidate near the fall lets out a sympathetic sound, only prevented from taking another step by her friend's fierce grip -- it's this friend who then locks eyes with the blue, and whispers an amazed, "Donaneth." A deep breath is taken before Xeledyr slowly lets it out, "I'm kind of glad that it's happening so quickly." His shoulders are straightened, and he can feel the sweat that's trickling down his spine. "There's another!" A hushed whisper announces the arrival of the blue, an arm beind extended to point it out to Lisle. Up on the ledges, Sionath gives a friendly croon in response to the greeting greens, before settling down in like comfort, eyes brightly fixed on the arriving newborns below, with something akin to maternal interest. "Looking good down there so far ..." she remarks idly and leans against her green's haunch. Weathered Regard Brown looks down as something hits his legs and tries to step on it, but his coordination isn't that good. He misses and his talons land smack on an egg shard. CRACK! He steps forward a couple of paces, dragging that leg to wipe off the remains. Lifting now madly-whirling eyes he scans the white things all over the place, and aims for a small group. One that just happens to be in the /opposite/ direction of his bronze clutch-mate. Terlan pouts at Maja, "You're not helping." He comments about her statement, gaze drawn over to the blue and the newly Impressed at the sound of the others muttering about it. He just grins a little at Maja's last statement and keeps an eye on the brown and bronze still bumbling about. "That's right. No more restrictions." "Hey look Suri, maybe you've got a chance." Sari states with a smirk, signaling towards the flirtatious bronze. She then sends her hand out to push back a renegade lock of hair. She catches sight of the infuriated brown's actions, slightly amused. Up on the ledges, Rusuth croons back to Sionath (in the spirit of good inter-Weyr relations, of course) while watching the little bronze's antics tolerantly. "I have a feeling the Weyrlingmasters are going to have a grand old time with that one," he says. "Which means I'd have to keep an even closer eye on you, since you'd have no more excuses." Maja turns about to Terlan, gives him a brief smile, and then watches the dragonets. "Any of them coming? It'd help if you told me if they came, in case I was watching the galleries or something. Have you looked up there, yet? Thousands of people." Or maybe more like 500, but she's having fun. Up on the ledges, St'vren adds, swallowing a laugh, "And his clutchmate may never fly with him if he doesn't behave..." "That's, uh, three so far?" Suri's lost count. She stares at the bronze, and then giggles at her twin's comment. "Sure I do..." Sria glances upward again, and then to the galleries, and says simply, "I don't at the moment." As if at any other time, she would. "It's different," she agrees, though her eyes find her brown, and the hatchlings, more than they do the candidates - but here and there, she'll lift her regard from one wandering dragonet to a subject of his attention - or his affection. Cuppa and Cream egg tumbles over and rolls to an unsteady halt in the sand, where it lies still and quiet for several moments. That was intentional! Such bravado wins out in the end, in a sudden explosion of shell-shards that reveals a tiny shape of a hatchling in the rubble. Life is Strange Blue A muzzle of pale violet introduces the brightly colored form of this lithe blue, lavender chasing up from the nose to blend into a painter's perfect cobalt at the forehead. That singular hue dominates the rest of his agile form, wrapping long neck and ridges, sinuous tail and slender haunches, slim belly and predatory paws all alike in a single velvet coat of blue. Above it all a regal violet, richer than the hue of his face, spreads out over flexible wing spars into barely-translucent black-tuxedo sails. Enormously large eyes are his dam's gift to his form, soulful and sweet beneath 'ridges streaked with yellow gold. Rough Around the Edges Bronze lifts his head, moving away from the grouped gaggle of giggling girls. Apparently, there was nothing there for him. However, he lowers his head and messily wuffles the tresses of a perfectly coiffed Candidate whose perfection seemed to beg for such treatment. His eyes swirl more quickly as he returns to the Might Quest for the Lifemate. He is hungry, after all. Priorities. Savaughna shifts from foot to foot, more out of nervousness than any need to rid her feet of the sands heat. "C'mon.." she whispers toward the bronze. She's got a bet on the line, afterall. Selvorin's eyes flick quickly from bronze to brown to bronze to brown and back again - until the hatching of yet another dragon messes up his rhythm. His head whips about to see the new blue, and with another gulp, he chews at his lip and just concentrates on scanning the space in front of him, so as not to be run over. At least from the front. He glances over at Savaughna when she urges one of the dragons. "Which?" he asks with another of those half-smirks. Melt In Your Mouth Egg is no longer silent, and the sand now moves beneath it as it rocks from side to side, quite as if its occupant has abruptly become very impatient with this entire situation. A steady tap-tap, growing to an all but shrill frequency, resounds from within, and the shell finally fractures along the many rays of its uniquely printed star. "I /am/ good," Lassen revels as (a good while /after/ he issued his instructions) that one egg hatches. "See, blue. Except, well. It's kind of... purply. Strange, huh?" He shrugs it off, however, and gives the newly-hatched blue a grin before peering about for the other hatchlings. "Is it just me, or are they kinda picky? I mean, I guess I see why, considering they're gonna be stuck with whoever they do pick for, like, forever, but still." A shrug and another grin, bestowed upon the still-roaming bronze and brown. Dewy Sunlit Field Egg trembles ever so slightly, blurring the images of spring breezes across the surface of the colorful egg, then is utterly still. Terlan arches a brow at Maja, "Does that mean you're keeping an eye on me already?" He asks, watching her before looking up to the galleries with a frown. Hrm, there are a lot of people up there. He just grins broadly and waves up at those gathered, and then puts more attention into the wandering dragonets. "I'll tell you when they come, though I'm sure you notice /everything/." Weathered Regard Brown sniffs a couple of the white things before stopping. He wrinkles his muzzle a bit and shakes his head sharply. Yuck! He waddles away, coordination improving a bit with practice. He dodges a blue dragon sitting in the Sands, and has to pause to look at the two Really Big Things with little white things nearby. He rumbles questioningly at them. What now? Cullen's hand flaps in the direciton of the toddler egg, now shattered, and the subsequent impression of the blue. "It's so fast," he says to Lassen, then cranes his neck to see past the bulky lad, for a glimps of the other eggs' activities. Lisle lets out a breath of exclamation at the most recently hatched. "Quick means it'll be over soon, right? I could use a drink." She blinks a few time and takes a deep breath. Up on the ledges, "It's good not to be a weyrlingmaster," chortles V'lano, as another hatchling pops forth below. "Huh, the one green and now a bunch of males. Well - " After a moment, he laughs again, and finishes, rolling his eyes for a moment before tromping back to St'vren's side. "With her down there as dam, I shouldn't wonder." The slink of the Rough Around the Edges Bronze carries him from his last pit stop to his next, large eyes cocked and wide-set to catch a stray movement, a lurking motion out of the corner of jeweled facets. And as the orange of despaired hunger is just about to take over the entirety of his prominent muzzle, a flicker of joyous blue whirls through and with a sly turn of his clever neck, he spies out olive-skinned boy with the dirty blonde hair, and makes his presence known in one single, unthinking, leap to find himself at this candidate's feet. Sarisia attention is soon caught by the motionless Cuppa and Cream egg. "Ya think it's okay?" She asks, tilting her head to better take the egg in. "Sure have been a lot of odd eggs." Satiet pulls her gaze away from the nervous and chatting candidates to the brownrider that's closer by and affords the woman a flat stare, dubious, before the sharp face brightens into an amused smile. "I'll ask you again in afterwards, maybe you'll have one then. I could tell my mother: the eggs hatched and all I got was a lousy apple." The joke isn't funny at all, but it breaks the tension that rolls across the girl's shoulders, to the point that Teonath even darts a quick look, approval, for her lifemate, before the dragon is back to paying avid attention, crooning encouragements towards the dragonets on the sands. Rachiel watches the two hatchlings as they search for their lifemates. She looks over at the blue hatchling and watches it a moment before looking back to the eggs. Life is Strange Blue pauses amidst the shards of his destroyed teacup of an egg, giving his dark wings a good, solid shimmy to free them of the worst of the albumen that clings slimily to their sails. His eyes whirl swiftly in shades of hunger and confusion, pale purple snout bobbing this way and that, reflecting white shapes out there, egg-shapes up close, and looming parental shapes somewhere behind him. The dips of his head and foreshoulders seem to create, along with the lifting and falling of his damp wings, the notion that the little blue bows, bows again, and bows some more. Thank you, thank you. Dewy Sunlit Field Egg trembles harder now, wobbling about on the mound then sliding sideways, bumping gently into one of its remaining fellows, the dewdrops on its surface seeming to melt in the heat of the sands. Waiting for the perfect moment, its tensed occupant returns to stealth mode, and the egg stills. Xeledyr glances sideways at Lisle, grinning a little. "All that's provided for after. The feast and all that." Some traditions are worth keeping after all. Gray eyes flick back to the action occuring around them, a conscious effort being made to keep his breathing regular - but such things are not helping the beating sound of his heart in his ears. Up on the ledges, St'vren glances at V'lano. "She was a character as a weyrling?...oh, right, Volath sired Teonath. So you'd know." His expression wavers between amused pity and curiosity before motion on the Sands draws his eye again. "Nice leap from that bronze...yes, Rusuth, you were much more impressive than that..." The rumbling in his stomach comes just as the bronze draws near, and C'len mutters something to himself about having already eaten just before the hatching--but realizes that it's not his hunger that he's feeling. The sudden appearance of the dragonet in front of him causes a widening of those light-brown eyes and a long exhalation of breath. "Clever?" He squeaks. "I'm not so sure about that, Vildaeth," he says, laughing softly with a sudden sense of joy. "But we can find something for you to eat if I have to go to the kitchens to do it." S'din smiles and descends upon the new duo quickly, "Welcome to High Reaches Weyr, C'len and Vildaeth!" He guides them off the sands safely. One of the two really big things looks down, a bit baffled down the long length of her golden snout and then lowers her head to bring it level to the wee one. Briefly, Teonath shares a look with her mate, and then swivels back to regard this most inquisitive, and seemingly lost of browns, the slow dip of her chin skirting across the heated sands to nudge the hatchling in the other direction. Towards the white things. Vildaeth has left. Cullen has left. "/He's/ cute," Suraiya grins at the recently hatched blue. "Strange coloring though. From strange eggs, I spose." She checks her robe finally, making sure it's still on her for one thing, pulling at a thread before looking back up. Right in time to see the Impression. "/Oh!/ Cullen, congrats over there!" She waves at him, quite sure he's more interested in his lifemate now though. Up on the ledges, Verenth swishe his tail as the first HRW bronze of the clutch Impresses! Lassen helpfully leans back, out of Cullen's view, when the other candidate tries to peer around him. "Ain't it, though?" he commiserates. "I mean, I didn't expect anything like this. Wonder if it looks that fast from up there--" he gestures vaguely at the stands "--or if it's just us, down here, runnin' from the hatchlings, you know?" He shrugs, then jumps as a flash of movement far too close signals the impression of the candidate next to him. "Cullen? Wow, hey. Congrats!" he offers, staring. Sarisia watches as Cullen Impresses the bronze, a smile in place. "Good one, Cullen! I mean, C'len, congrats!" Her eyes soon go back towards the bowing blue, there are still many chances for maulings, one must be careful. Resonating Contentment Egg shivers; the slightest tremble chasing itself over shades of gray, sorrel and cream. A second, more pronounced quiver follows, disturbing the sand piled around its base before the egg falls still again. A loud crunching noise from Melt In Your Mouth egg heralds the end of the beginning, and it splits along a slim fissure as surely as if it were sawed in two. Revealed among the ruins is a Lights in Lime Green, ready and waiting to make her statuesque entrance. "I can't tell you," Comes Savaughna's belated answer to Selvorin. She'd been too busy tracking the bronze's movement across the sands to bother answering. "Oh, go C'len!" She calls out to the newly impressed pair, grinning. Lights in Lime Green The triangular set to this young green's stately figure, combined with her flawless hide and rounded angles, allow for portrait-perfect poses at every opportunity. A light, velvety green shades her curved neck and slightly wider haunches, assisting the appearance of natural poise and the steely grace of each movement. Splashes of vivid, citrus green form vague circles that overlap across neckridges and between similarly-highlighted wings, brightest at their bases and fading into pale, polished wingsails. Sturdy yet refined like the rest of her, her wings curl slightly even when stretched to full breadth, an aspect - rather than an affectation - that aids her performative demeanor. Broadly-dappled coloring grants her a consistently well-lit appearance, partially veiling the dark cords of muscle in thick, powerful legs, but doing nothing to hide the strength evident in that brutally fierce gaze. Selvorin is nonplussed by that impression. "Well, he was one of the oldest," he says thoughtfully. Then he's distracted by the blue, and he nudges Savaughna to direct her attention that way. "Look at him. Is he... bowing?" Maja simply smiles as Cullen Impresses, a very large and pleased smile. "He will definitely make a good rider, even if he's still a little naive. Did you ever like Cullen much, Terlan?" "Oh, C'len, congrats!" Terlan calls out, waving at him as he scoots off the sands, and then shrugs his shoulders a bit at Maja's question, "Can't say I know him that well." But, that shouldn't be a surprise with how much more time he spent oogling girls. Weathered Regard Brown moves out of a stumbling step just before the tangle, lifting one wing high to avoid that foreclaw and almost tipping from the shift of his weight. It's in that next save, however, that his proud neck turns toward something very interesting indeed. Gone are the careful considerations, for this white-robed creature before him is his final destination. Up on the ledges, Elindath offers a quite unladylike bugley croon as one of the candidates she tried to push into the frozen lake finds a tormentor of his very own. Lisle's lashes fly wide as Cullen is chosen and moves off with his new lifemate. Her lips move silently and she looks between Xeledyr at her side and the recently abandoned Lassen with an expression that reads something like 'that was too close for comfort'. Life is Strange Blue trots away from the messy scene of his arrival, giving his wings a showman's shake before folding them in a cloak against his back. His siblings are provided with curious nods, but the little blue is primarily intent upon his next act. And now! I shall stand up on my hind legs for the very first time and at the same time I shall cry out my very first triumphant bugle! Except - just as the rearing hatchling begins the first notes of his triumphant blast, one of his wobbly, newling legs wiggles and refuses to hold him, and back down on all fours he goes. His wings fly out to steady him, but it's too late to stop the trumpet from being anything but a sour blat of a note. "Oh, of course not." Maja remarks, shaking her head. "Well, he's certainly very smart, and would've made a good guard had he -not- Impressed. I might've asked him to join me in Keogh." She swallows suddenly, the hatching suddenly speeding up to an even quicker pace, and even her roving eyes don't catch everything. Up on the ledges, B'rakis whistles low and under his breath, "Cullen... C'len is a good lad. He'll do well as a bronzerider, I'll wager." A choked sound of amusement emits from him at that 'blat' of note. A bell-like boom of sudden intensity rocks the Dewy Sunlit Field egg back and forth, its inhabitant seeking immediate escape from its confines. The shell reverberates again as though pinged by claws from inside, then shatters, leaving a small birth wet dragonet in a mound of sand and shattered shell, his dark form captured in shaft of bright light, where he emits a mournful caterwauling. "You wouldn't ask me?" Terlan asks, fluttering his lashes at Maja before he just snickers and looks back out at the sands to see where the dragonets have gone. "Oh, there's a green one now? I didn't see that one come out." He mentions, and next he's off looking to see where the brown went off to. Wizened Violet-Bronze Shimmering twilight rises from below into a magnetic violet-bronze, illuminating the darkly metallic sheen of his hide. Wisdom descends in a shrouded mantle along this dragon's back, distinctive whorls of onyx patterning his bronze hide and twisting along an overly slender neck to a proudly held head. Hawkish, the sharp taper of his muzzle is imbued with regal grace, his large jeweled eyes set deep beneath delicately arched ridges. Folded wings, curled like ancient scrolls, betray little of their extension's stormy allure: unfurled sails are a tumult of cirrus clouds, violet-brown against the deep bronze hide, that carry in their crystalline reflections a potential strength so at odds with his smaller frame. Frail seeming, though sleekly so, he carries his diminutive form well on thin back haunches. Onyx talons glitter with a sheen of stars dusting the sky, and a prehensile tail trails a curving line in his wake. Sarisia simply stares at the brown, feeling odd. Happy, beyond belief, yes that would be it. "Uh, what?" But then talks of hunger come up and she nods. "Yes, hungry, food, right!" Wiping a tear away from her face, no one saw that, she begins to lead her lifemate. "This way, Tiqueth." S'din sweeps back across the sands, gathering up the newest pair, calling out, "Congratulations, Sarisia and Tiqueth! Come right this way!" He ushers the swiftly from the increasingly-dangerous sands. Sarisia has left. Lassen, peering about, edges closer to Lisle and Xeledyr so he can keep up his steady stream of chatter. "So, wow. That was--something, you know what I mean? I mean, right next to me, huh? Weird. What'd he say the name was, anyway? I didn't catch it: Vil-something, wasn't it?" A shrug. Then, he snickers as his gaze is drawn back to the blue of earlier. "Wow, he's kind of... Well, I don't wanna get mauled," he stops himself, perhaps wisely. "Funny, though. Hey, where'd that brown go--you know, the one that was out here?" Duh. Obviously, he missed the brown's choice of Sarisia. Up on the ledges, "'Character' doesn't even begin to cover it," grins V'lano. And then, for some reason, he seems to remember himself, and looks around with swift-skating gaze past St'vren. Those merry dark eyes catch upon the Istan Weyrleader for a moment. Satisfied that B'rakis is mainly concerned with the goings-on below, the Telgari Weyrsecond murmurs, "Still is." It's a bit rueful, that remark, but not without a certain note of regretful fondness. Tiqueth follows his lifemate happily. This one will see to his needs. Lights in Lime remains in a tail-curled, head-high position for a moment, sharp eyes taking in all that can be seen with her muzzle held aloft. Eventually, the lack of direction ruffles her enough to sacrifice her perfect pose, though her composure stays very much intact. She does this all the time, nothing to worry about, easy as anything. Stretching first her neck and then extending a foreclaw, she's mid-examination when she catches a glimpse of those white-robed figures, and the crowd beyond, watching it all. Watching her. Now -that- might be worth looking into. Suraiya is there-- Rather, was there with her twin. And now she takes a step back and glances to the interrupting brown. Shoo, you. "Ah," she states, glancing between her duplicate and the intrud-- her, hatchling. "Congrats, Sari!" False grin is put on, and her previous hand she used is resting on her hip. "Now that's a /perfect/ match." She shuffles a bit to the side, glancing at her fellow candidates. What now? "She got a /brown/?" Selvorin is not so much displeased as discombobulated. "Weird. I thought she'd impress, you know, a green. That was Sari, right? Not Suri?" He looks over to Savaughna briefly to see what she thinks. Tiqueth has left. Cullen's impression, and his contraction to C'len earn a hearty clap from Xeledyr as the ash-blonde youth watches the event. His attention shifts as Lassen edges closer, a wide grin given to the larger candidate. "I didn't quite catch it, we can find out later I imagine." His gaze flickers between the two near him, "So, how's the air ventilation on your robes?" The hatchings and impressions are for the time waived attention as he queries Lisle and Lassen. Resonating Contentment Egg again makes only the most minute of movements, shifting in the sand almost as if it were making itself more comfortable rather than preparing to hatch. A second shift dissolves into a gentle sway, the rocking motion decidedly unhurried. Savaughna nudges Selvorin, "Did you see that? Sari impressed. A brown." She leans forward to look at Suraiya, now left without her twin. "Hey Suri," is called out - softly though, "You can come join us if you want." And she gives a nod to Selvorin, "Yeah. Sari. At least I think so." Maja turns down to Terlan with wide eyes, suddenly stuttering, "Well... well I would invite you, but I wouldn't think you'd want to come. And you know, I don't think the guards would appreciate your mercy for any woman with fairly large breasts. Doesn't work that way." Sari's Impression actually sobers up Maja. "Interesting choice," is her remark on that. Much of what's going on seems to escape Satiet's attention, though she gamely makes an attempt, and instead, whatever internal monologue Teonath keeps on with steadies the smile on her lips. It's in half-distraction that she follows the bronze to C'len and the brown to Sarisia, not quite digesting what's happening it seems, but nodding nonetheless. After a moment, she spares a comment for Sria, inching closer towards the rider of her dragon's mate, "I'm not even hungry anymore." The mundaneness of life seems to have been replaced with a certain flicker of awe in the pale blue regard. Selvorin nods to Savaughna. "They look totally alike," he says, with a wrinkled nose. Then he looks away from her to do a quick scan for charging dragons. Wizened Violet-Bronze hatchling remains in the pool of light, turning his slender head regally, showing off his markings while he assesses the outside world. Is he worthy of it? Is it worthy of him? His caterwauling ceases abruptly. No sense wailing about it. Realizing the reality of his situation, and the tremendous burden of his thus-far lonely life and of his empty belly, he shakes off the egg shards, multilayered sets of eyelids blinking against the harsh light of his surroundings. Well-Loved Childhood Companion Egg vibrates with motion, a soft thrum cadence to add to the humming of dragons that harmonize in the air. The nappy klah brown that coats the egg visibly trembling along the textured contours and while striations may be difficult to see against the dark base, the speckles that dot the egg's surface seem to glitter for the effort of the dragonet within. Life is Strange Blue looks mortified for a moment, eyes whirling yellow to match the gold-streaked eyeridges above them. He gives himself a bodily shake, to shrug off the misery of failure, setting royal blue into velvety motion as his hide seems to move loosely upon his musculature. Finally he is ready to begin again. He whirls about in place, tucking in the cape of his wings, and gazes up, up, up at the largest dragons present. Then he whirls again and gazes up, up, up at the galleries and ledges. Finally he levels his pale violet head once more with the crowd right there on the sands, and lurches spiritedly forward. Up on the ledges, Emilly catches some of that commentary and adds her own chuckle to V'lano's remark. "Character ... yes that's certainly one word that aptly describes that pair ... they were certainly a ... handful as weyrlings." Lisle nods quickly, her runnertail swinging behind her head. "I saw," she tells Lassen as he inches over. Her attention is only half on him, though, just in case another hatchling get too close. She gets up on her toes to look over the chaos of shells and dragons. "How many is that now?" Lassen gives Xeledyr a long blank look, then peers down at his robe. "Um. Good. Way good. Better'n it should be. But it's kind of nice, you know what I mean? I mean, I can kinda see why girls wear skirts 'n' dresses 'n' stuff now, you know?" Pause. He looks aghast. "Not that I want to wear all that or anything!" he hastily reassures his companions. Rachiel steps closer to Suri as Sari Impresses, but her eyes are on the hatchlings that are looking for their lifemates. Suri's solitude doesn't seem to last long. Well, Savaughna was always a little like Sari afterall. She hops a bit in the sand towards her direction, making sure to keep clear of rampaging hatchlings. "Did ya see? Did ya see? Sari Impressed!" She forces one of her toothly grins. A nod is given to Selvorin as she approaches, hands clasped behind her this time. Sria can't help a grin as she watches the newly-Impressed pairs head off the sands, and her gaze travels back to Suraiya for a moment. Satiet's comment returns her attention to the group in general, her eyes darting from hatchling to hatchling. "Good," she replies, decidedly distracted. "I couldn't imagine being anything but..." she trails off, settling for an imperfect word: "Amazed, right now." "Who says I'd have to be a guard?" Terlan asks, and then shrugs his shoulders, "I don't make a good guard, yeah.. I'd be merciful." Or distracted, which he was. He waves at Sarisia as she gets led off, or Suraiya, whichever. He smiles at them and then watches the blues antics, as well as the bronze's caterwauling, happily avoiding any egg shards.. and dancing from foot to foot. Sands are getting hot. Up on the ledges, St'vren does not seem too surprised at V'lano's description of Satiet. "I believe you," he comments softly under the humming and chatter. "We had a conversation a while back, and I'm /still/ not sure what was going on. Rusuth knew more than I did." Emilly's contribution has him looking over with interest and a smile. "Were you there to witness it all? Any good stories? I'm St'vren, by the way, from Telgar. The hulking one making eyes at your green is my Rusuth." Resonating Contentment egg rocks sedately against the sand, with movements so gentle that imminent hatching seems unlikely at best. Thus it is a bit of a surprise when between one minute and the next, the gently swaying egg turns from a silent sphere into a pile of shards with a wet green shape in their midst. She thoughtfully surveys her new surroundings, then warbles a bright-tempered, comical greeting of delight to be out at last. Free Flowin' Fun Green With long, slender limbs and delicate, curving wingspars, this petite green is a credit to the finer bone structures to be found in her varied lineage. Her body is an almost uniform hue of bright, delicate spring, a color suited to the soft, coarse texture of her nubbly, velvety hide. Neckridges of paler, more golden green decorate her short but sinewy neck like a ruff, while the same hue is repeated in translucent filigree on thin, rippling wingsails. Huge eyes that favor pale tones lend her a little of her dam's likeness, bulging like jewels from the broad, wide-mouthed shape of her head. She moves with a certain relaxed hesitation, a peculiar charm in her unintentional grace. Life is Strange Blue swerves near the candidates, stretching high on his rear legs with damp wings outthrust to provide counterbalance. His tail thrashes the sand, stirring a small cloud of grains and dust, while those soulful eyes reflect a multitude of warped, white-robed shapes in their facets. In the end, of course, one of those shapes is the most-mirrored of all, and sweeping a final bow that cobalt neck bends to offer a violet muzzle to his chosen one's hand. Lights in Lime Green tromps over, her lack of grace perhaps indicating a lack of conscious effort, and begins to stroll idly around the huddled groups of candidates. Near the galleries, she strikes another pose, but, not being entirely coordinated as yet, she tips slowly towards three marginally terrified robe-clad girls. Still uninterested, she displays her boredom along with an impressive set of teeth, but her eyes begin a faster whirl as she continues across the sands. Lassen's answer seems to disappoint Xeledyr a little, "So.. you can't think of anyway it could be improved upon?" He moves his hands up and down his sides gesturing - though looking more like a monkey for it. "Like if the sides were open to allow for more air to get it?" Lisle's earns draws a shrug from the ash-blonde youth, a hand being lifted to wipe the dampness from the back of his neck. "I think it's four so far?" Honeyed Rosehips Egg twitches, rolling onto its side to briefly obscure view of the tiny numbs of golden chamomile that decorates one side of the shell. The darkened fatter base of the egg seems to have a figure pressing out from within, the scramble of noises of a cramped figure seeming to oomph softly as it attempts an escape plan that apparently isn't working too well. Selvorin jerks a nod at Suri. "Yeah. We saw," he confirms. "Figured you both would impress greens, if you got a dragon at all." Ever the encouraging one, that's Selvorin. But then, "Look, here comes one." He evaluates the green hatchling's trajectory, and eyes the two girls nearest him, trying to work out if she could be headed for one of them. Savaughna goes wide-eyed at the lime green hatchling bares her teeth to a group of candidates. "Did you see that?" She hisses to both Selvorin and Suriaya, shaking her head. "Nasty little thing," and then theres a wide green for Suri, "Yeah I saw. Exciting," or something. She glances up to the stands again, a hand shielding her eyes. Up on the ledges, "Emilly!" Finally, V'lano realizes the voice and presence of the Reachian greenrider - but falls silent to allow St'vren's introduction before providing one in return. "This is Emilly, and that green is Sionath." The bronzerider's eyes are warm indeed, one hand going out to offer a place for Emilly's elbow to come to, perhaps. "She helped I'sai with the weyrling training for my class. A real boon to us all." Wink. Maja grins, though seems not to be bothered by the hotness of the sands whatsoever. "And I don't think the holders would appreciate you wandering around naked. If you thought Josilina punished you, wait until the women are screaming and running away." Wizened Violet-Bronze has had enough of waiting. It is time for decisive action. He crosses the sands painstakingly, his slow, deliberate motions testing out each muscle, each limb, as though aware of the heat's effect on his exposed hide. His hawkish head is raised proudly as he takes his first memorable steps, ending in stumbles past several of the white-clad figures. His sharp talons contact a Bitran lad's toes and leave a messy trail and a loud cry of startled pain behind. He ceases movement, the rustling of thin-hide wings gathering at his side, and blinks, confused. Did I do that? Suraiya chuckles at Selvorin, head shaking slightly. "Green, is it? I think brown suits Sari jus' fine! He's gonna be a great dragon." She turns towards the green on the sands, baring teeth and all. "Ya don' think she'd attack her possible lifemate, would she?" With a step back, she watches, turning towards the other hatchlings on the sands as well. Up on the ledges, B'rakis frowns slightly at V'lano and St'vren as he catches part of that conversation, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he chooses to keep his attention on the hatching below, as more pairings are made. He rolls his shoulders a little and crosses his arms, leaning up against the crossed forearms of his thrumming dragon. L'sen steps back from Xeledyr to eye the robe the other candidate wears studiously. "Hmm. That might work," he says, nodding. "Savaughna--or was it Suri? Or, oh, somebody, anyway, said I should be a weaver, so maybe I'll look into it, you know?" He shrugs, then turns around, just in time to find himself staring at that blue of earlier. "Whoa, hey," he greets the dragon, blinking in surprise. "That was pretty nice, you know? The whole... you know?" he makes a vague gesture toward the blue, seemingly taking everything in stride. "Neiveth, huh? Food sounds so great about now, you know? I'm /starving/." Pause. In a more amazed tone, he adds, the occurrance just sinking in, "So are you!" S'din gathers up the new bluerider and dragonet, declaring, "Welcome to the ranks, L'sen and Neiveth!" He chuckles at the hugry rumblings of the new blue and shows him and his dumbstruck rider the way off the sands. Well-Loved Childhood Companion Egg stills, only to resume again with much more force, the jostling of the an entity all too ready to come out rocking the shell from side to side. Punctures dot each speckle - what appears to be the tiny pinprick of a talon visible. It's persistent in its continual clicking sound, tapping to test the strength of its prison. Free Flowin' Fun Green bounds forward with another warble, apparently delighted with the sound of her own voice. The yielding sand serves to only further her hatchling clumsiness, and she stumbles as she attempts to leap over the last of the scattered shells from her own egg. She appears to take her near-tumble in good humor, however, straightening up with a staccato bugle and starting forward again, a little more sedately this time. "They wouldn't scream.. I'm not that bad looking." Terlan says with a bit of a frown at Maja as he watches the blue bumble into his lifemate. He smiles at Lassen, now L'sen, and waves at the pair as they too get escorted off. "Congrats L'sen!" He calls out, waving at the young man. Sria's eyes, following both blue and green hatchlings, murmurs to Satiet, "Attention-getters, aren't they. Oh, there, Lassen -" and that's as Life is Strange takes his bow, makes his choice. Sruth's directed a low greeting toward the newly-hatched green, his own attention given, today. L'sen has left. "Hush, don't say that," Selvorin scolds Savaughna. "She wont' impress to you if you /insult/ her!" Then one of the candidates has his foot trod on, and Selvorin reacts loudly, probably heard across half the sands. "Oh, wow, crack an egg, would you look at that, he's bleeding all over!" Neiveth has left. "Hmmm," Satiet's gaze follows to the green, or at least the former of the two greens and frowns. "A regular harper that one," is her dry murmur, not particularly flattering, but amused regardless. "L'sen now, I imagine, or L'en? You can never tell how it'll contract I suppose. I never expected L'ian to become L'ian for that matter." A reflective pause later, and she hastily adds, "I meant for his honorific." "Ew," Savaughna wrinkles her nose in disgust, spotting the bloody toes as Selvorin directs her attention that way. "Pfft, it can't hear me anyway," she comments, in regards to the lime coloured hatchling. "Who impressed that blue?" Wizened Violet-Bronze halts, not knowing how to proceed. Joining in with the cries from the candidates around the mildly injured lad, he croons sadly. When a healer moves to tend the injured Bitran lad, his piteous cries turn to full-throated new-dragonet roars as he unfurls a wide pair of canopied gossamer wings, which are sure to be of use. After all, they're his secret weapon! Lights in Lime Green is clearly impatient, now. She's got things to do, people to see, silly comments to ignore. She'd like to get on with this, if things could be moved along a bit. A word, a motion from behind somehow snags her attention, and the twitch of her headknobs is followed by a stubborn set of curling wings. She knows exactly where she's going, thank you. There is a very important audience waiting for her. Up on the ledges, "And you survived? I'm amazed and astounded." St'vren grins widely at Emilly. "No grey hairs, no nervous twitches. Pleased to meet you, Emilly." No doubt he'd try to be charming, but then the general outcry distracts him. "Oh /ouch/, that poor kid...and now the hatchling's getting into it." "Well, considering that half of the younger girls have never seen a naked man, I suspect they'd scream anyway." Maja immediately eyes the blood, sideways stepping in front of Terlan. "I won't let him hurt you," she notes to him, in case he was worried. Seams stretch across the surface of Wrapped Against the Fog Egg, cracks veiling the dotted white borders before shattering, fragments flying far enough to prompt a few instinctive flinches from candidates safely beyond the range. Slightly obscured by the shell particles that remain behind, a glorious green dragonet announces her arrival with a loud creel, twisting her slender neck up into the air, showing off, it would seem, before seeking her prize. Contenting herself with a lengthy stroll of the white-robed line, indulgence quickly becomes annoyance, as none seem to meet her fancy. Learning a lesson in patience, perhaps the first of many, the green finally finds her choice in quiet Eccir, a former fisherman at the end of one group. His voice, perhaps unheard by some throughout all of candidacy, rings true: "Her name is Erialth!" Honeyed Rosehips Egg rolls once more, righting itself into an impression of sand that once held one of its clutch siblings, lopsided against this new support. As force does not seem to work well for the dragonet within, a gentle tap, ever so polite, hammers against the top. This is rewarded by slow fractures that wind its way down in the beginning of a quartered pattern before running wild towards the base. Steps are taken at a hasty shuffle backwards by Xeledyr as the blue appears and chooses Lassen quite decisively. Surprise is evident on his features, but a grin is given to the newest bluerider of the 'Reaches. "Congratulations, and thanks for the feedback." Is warmly wished as he makes sure the two have a wide enough berth to make it past. The sudden vocalisation from the bronze seems to startle the lad, and a glance is cast at Lisle to make sure she's still there. "She's not an /it/," Selvorin insists, scowling at Savaughna. "And, I don't know... I didn't see..." he was too busy hollering about the bloodied candidate. Up on the ledges, Emilly detaches herself from Sionath's side to offer St'vren her hand in greeting. "As V'lano says ... Emilly is my name and I helped train the clutch Teonath hatched from as well as Volath's," is her explanation. "As for stories ... mmm there are some." And yet she doesn't start telling any, but gives V'lano a warm smile of her own in return. "A boon to all - I'm not sure I'd go -that- far, Vel. Though I'm certainly glad some got some good out of my contribution to the training." Lisle reaches out to grab Xeledyr's arm as the blue claims Lassen, her other hand pointing in frank and utter disbelief. "Lassen," she breaths. "First Cullen, then Lassen. Are they all drawn to this spot or something?" She starts to inch a little further away. "I'm gonna get trampled," she snorts. Free Flowin' Fun Green twitches her tail as she wanders the sands, neck craning about in order to watch the movements. One pronounced twitch flicks some lingering egg goo towards one of the candidates - a tall, thin girl. The green trills an amused warble as she watches the girl nearly trip in order to get out of the way, and she flicks her tail again - but alas, the trick is unrepeatable, as the heat of the sands has dried away any remaining goo. With a disappointed noise, the green moves on. Lights in Lime Green turns with an enormous sweep of movement, and focuses abruptly and decidedly on a silvery-blue-eyed candidate. This one. -This- one deserves her. Speckles dot the surface of hand-ground brown, glittering with the sheen of the egg goo in those offered cracks. The specks widen, threading into slivered cracks along the textured surface, the wildness of its direction having no rhyme or reason before finally the Well-Loved Childhood Companion egg splits into four pieces, the large chunks crumbling as they hit the ground to leave a dusty surrounding for the rich umber brown once within. Captivated by Wanderlust Brown An ethereal base of earthen-hues shimmer across compacted muscles, enveloping the large form of this dragon. Sweeping across the plains of rich umber are deeper streaks that blend seamlessly along his sleek hide, which wind inscrutable patterns up a large triangular head and rather long muzzle, then darken into exceedingly thick eyeridges which seem to obscure view of his small multi-faceted eyes. At odds with the energy that constantly holds the dense frame at a visible ready stance are the softly curved neckridges that trail back down an ample neck and between broad shoulders, each touched by a grace of dam-inspired copper at the tips. Shadows play through brilliant strokes of sienna along the vein-patterning of exquisitely crafted wings, and a final touch of sprinkled sands dot a mild decoration along his back towards a quickly thinned tail. Suraiya is glancing around, trying to figure out who just Impressed to what dragonet. "I think Lassen's missing," she comments to the other two with a shrug, eyes diverted to the injured lad. "See, stuff like that does happen all the time." Back to the sands. "What a strange little green." Up on the ledges, B'rakis shakes his head as one of the candidates takes a claw from the bronze. "Shoulda been paying more attention, that looked like it hurt," he mutters under his breath. He sits down now, scooting forward so he can still have a good view of the sands. "And another brown. Nicelooking one at that." Rachiel looks at all of the hatchlings in turn, pausing for a moment to look over at the injured lad, and then look at the eggs. Wizened Violet-Bronze Hatchling enjoys his moment of public glory, pulling his weight forward and rotating to be sure the gathered crowd gets a good look at his wings. But the clamor of his belly won't be denied, and it is relentlessly that he rushes forward to part the seas of candidates, searching, and at last finding, a boy to call his own. Sria lifts a brow at -that- description from Satiet, but shares in the amusement. "L'sen," she confirms. "And right, of course - oh, our harper seems to have narrowed it down." Te'an blinks at the blood himself, oh how quickly he pales at the sight of it. He doesn't even comment about Maja's comment, and slips behind Maja to let her protect him, well, as best she can from flying eggshards and bronzes. He's not entirely covered though, and as the green comes over to him he suddenly seems disinterested in protection and kneels down on the hot sand to hug her, "Deneth! Of /course/ I knew!" He says with a tone of indignation, and adds, "Let's .. ah, yeah, you need food." S'din shouts, "Congratulations, Te'an and Deneth!" He moves quickly now, from one side of the sands to the other, escorting all manner of pairs off the sands. Te'an has left. "On the other hand," Selvorin says, with a snort and a smirk when he sees who the green chose. He leaves off his defense of her in favor of looking around to see what's become of those other dragons that were still wandering. Savaughna's just about gapes in disbelief at Te'an and his newfound lifemate. "Terlan." she coughs, "Impressed a /green/?" She swallows a laugh. "I did not see that one coming." Captivated by Wanderlust Brown is not bothered by the dust clouds that rise around his back haunches, the curl of his tail hunched as if in that last moment the breakage of the walls around him struck some sort of fear. But that fear is short-lived as a brazen bugle sounds and with the arrogance imbued by youth - therefore some lack of knowledge as to how the world works - he steps from the remnants and stands proud, striking a pose where the inscrutably patterned neck lifts high. He's free! And all too curious as the orange-lined faceted eyes seem to try and take in as much of the world as possible in a short time. Suraiya raises a brow at Terlan's Impression. "Me... neither. But then 'gain, he is a lady's man. Bet he'd attract all kinds of girls, then." She shrugs her shoulders again and offers up a congratulation to the pair, grinning as she watches them move away. Maja immediately lets go of Te'an's hand as he Impresses, as though she's touched something hot, and immediately crosses her arms. Then he's gone, and she's left standing alone. Her face goes blank, and she simply stares across the sands. "Shut up, Savaughna," is all she has to say. Up on the ledges, St'vren makes sure, squinting, that the toe-trampled Bitran lad is being taken care of before covering Emilly's palm with his big rough one. "Take your compliments where you find them," he advises her cheerfully. "If Vel sings your praises, I'll believe him. Oops, there goes that bronze--I hope he finds someone to Impress, everyone's moving out of his way." Free Flowin' Fun Green begins to pace with more purpose as the red in her eyes deepens and swirls faster. But even through the urgency that's creeping into her demeanor she still pauses here and there to flick sand at the candidates - particularly those who have their attention elsewhere. C'mon, look here - isn't she cute? Isn't she /funny/? Selvorin snorts again. "Haven't you guys seen him? He doesn't /just/ flirt with girls," he states flatly. He takes a slight step toward Savaughna, closing ranks when Maja yells at her. "Well, you might get trampled, but you're not going to get eaten." The way Xeledyr says it, it's as if it's meant to be comforting. "Even if you probably do act like a herdbeast some of the time." A hand is lifted to awkwardly pat at Lisle's hand that's claimed part of his arm. "Look, another one." He then extends his hand to point out the newly hatched brown. However, something distracts him, and his nose starts to twitch a little, and his eyes widen. "Isorath." The name is uttered as he pulls away from Lisle and extends a hand toward the bronze, giving a shallow bow. "Of course." S'din seems to almost just *appear* behind the pair he welcomes as X'dyr and Isorath before guiding them and several other new pairs off the sands and into their new lives. Savaughna leans around Selvorin to smirk at Maja. "Shutup yourself," she calls out, and rolls her eyes. "Animal." That word is muttered softly however, before she slips in next to Sel again letting the younger candidate hide her from view. Wild rose petals crumble off of the liquid auburn that wraps around a medium-sized egg, marring the perfection of its spherical shape. It's a slow start, but with the help of the cracks from before, a pale spring shape emerges from the quartered pieces of the Honeyed Rosehips egg, a certain regal elegance in her initial stilled form. On Wings of Beauty Green Pinions of grace are shrouded in the palest greens of spring time, traces of a dewy yellow wending its way down an incredibly slim tail. While slender, she's by no means small, her length stretching forward in regal grace along the curves of her narrow ridges and upward along the arch of her gracious neck. Large inquisitive eyes protrude from the triangular face and are shaded with a lingering luminescence that serves to magnify the brilliant coloring of all her windowed emotions. Sweeps of a shade darker green outline her eyeridges, marking them heavily with color where the bumps are more subtle than in many. Sinewed muscles and the hide that clings to them like a dress that's been fitted to perfection, show off a delicately molded shape where elegance vibrates with each movement. Her overall pale coloring is shadowed along her limbs, back haunches and forelimbs cushioning her form in darker hues of moonlit grass fields, the upward rise in gradient leading into wings of beauty; transparent sails that reach backwards in loose folds of excess gauze. Isorath has found his match, his chosen one, and he is determined to not let the sweat-damp scarecrow go. His wings still unfurled, he hisses to chase away any others who might have thoughts of claiming his human, his slim neck extended to show off the rich patterning there. Once certain that bow is for him, he returns the motion, albeit clumsily, and is ushered off toward the promise of a meal. Isorath has left. Suraiya chuckles lightly, though stops when she gives a glance over at Maja. Ah, not a good idea? Blue eyes find the previous green still there, smiling at the antics. "She's jus' gonna sit 'round and get attention an' not Impress at all, that way." Oh, see, /another/ one. "She's pretty, too.." Up on the ledges, B'rakis almost laughs as Terlan impresses green. "For some reason, that isnt' entirely surprising.. maybe he'll have better luck stealing kisses from people now, without getting the punches. And another green!" Xalerth makes an approving sound. Maja is still alone, brooding, and simply has dagger-eyes for Savaughna's response. She takes a deep breath, watching the dragonets. On Wings of Beauty Green steps from her shards with grace that belies the just-hatched nature of her figure, a tendril of egg gunk shook off her hind quarters with a little wobble of her tail and behind. Regal calm settles nicely along the shook out state of her elegant wings, before the flutter back to fold along her slim form. After a pause, to consider the options before her, she knows precisely where to start looking and unlike many of her less than astute clutch siblings, this beauty slinks her way towards a small cluster along the circle formed and stretches her neck curiously. Rachiel looks at the eggs just in time to see another green hatch, she looks at it a moment and then looks over to the other green. Lisle just throws up her hands to see Xeledyr impress next. "That's it. I'm not hanging out over here," she announces, even if her all her companions are gone. She goes tromping away from the now empty bit of sand, heading towards another gaggle of people who can distract charging dragons. Up on the ledges, "And Vel -does- sing your praises, Emilly," V'lano murmurs, "And I know few from my class who don't. Some of your Reachian students think very highly of you as well." Maybe this is just a game of get the greenrider to blush. But the bronzer's distracted by B'rakis' announcement - and he leans a bit to get a clearer view of the goings on below. "Few greens, it seems," he observes. "Is that two, or three? More?" With as much fun as Free Flowin' Fun Green has had Up on the ledges, it's about time she spreads her joy to another unsuspecting soul. The victim in question is chosen with a determined tip of her head and a delighted rustling of wingsails, a little graceful half-hop punctuating her joy as she lands in front of her chosen one. Jeweled eyes are brightened by a flare of colors as if to emphasize her enraptured demeanor, her slender muzzle dropping to inspect the tall, willowy candidate that has caught her eye. Captivated by Wanderlust Brown's broad neck lowers to sweep the grounds in an initial inspection that draws over some shells of bright magenta and with little caution he pokes his large muzzle at it, flinching involuntarily as it attaches itself to the top, flattened slope of his nose. Twitching, it's only a matter of time before the loosely held piece is flung off, and his earth-shimmering form is off to discover something else that's new and extraordinarily fantastic, like the beginning of that loosely created, and somewhat hole-riddled circle, and with the vibrant energy of one that probably was blessed with more than his fair share of wild exuberance. Up on the ledges, B'rakis offers the correct number, "Five greens now," a slight smirk on his face at the other bronzerider's apparent inability to count. "Good thing it's a small clutch, you'd be lost if there were any more, eh?" Up on the ledges, "At least five," St'vren says after a moment of consideration. "Probably more. There've been distractions during which small dragons could creep out and Impress without the crowd noticing. That new one's a pretty little thing." Rusuth agrees, his hum oscillating up a notch, and Stav prods him in the side. "Don't even think it. She's barely hatched, and there's a Weyrlingmaster sitting right here." Up on the ledges, Emilly's head swivels back towards the spectacle below and she tsks softly for the blood. "Hope it's not too bad ..." she murmurs, then laughs at B'rakis' comment. "Kisses? Shells - I didn't know that about the fellow ... I've not gotten to know this group of Candidates as well as ... some." There's a hint of hesitation at the end of her sentence before she smiles back St'vren's way. "Point taken, and well met, St'vren." And there's a tell-tale hint of roses in her cheeks as she elbows Volath's rider playfully. "Not sure - I've lost count honestly - oh ... five, good." In the galleries, Larian wanders up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, Larian has arrived. Suraiya pauses in between lifting up her foot fully off the sands. And with the approaching green, she nearly topples back in surprise. Fortunately, she stays rooted, blue eyes widening. "Ozriadasoth!" She says the name with a giggle, clear and loud for everyone. Her foot goes down and she finds the green's wet head to hug. "Oh, you think so? I hope we do!" But for now. "Ya hungry, right? Let's go, let's go!" S'din chuckles as he approaches the new lifemates and wryly says to them, "Ozriadasoth, hmm Suraiya? You'll have fun spelling that one on your reports!" He laughs and adds, "All kidding aside, welcome, please come this way and watch out for that wayward green!" On Wings of Beauty Green's neck can only go so far before a candidate is regarded thoughtfully with large, unblinking eyes that waver between orange-yellow streaked and a more curious, placid blue. With another sultry shake of her back-swept wings, she continues her way, a little bounce in her step as any breeze, however slight, catches in that backdrift and seems to lift her up in this little hopping gait of carefree motion. In her wake, her slender tail swishes in a charming little beckon to the trail of candidates she leaves behind. Selvorin wipes his hands on his robe again. "She's - yeah," he agrees with Suraiya. Then the green is... right there! He stares, blinking as Impression happens, and only afterward remembers to step back out of the way. "Heh." He looks over at Savaughna. "Well, I was right on one of them, huh?" Suraiya has left. Ozriadasoth whuffles Suraiya's hair playfully, nearly prancing in place before following close behind the girl. Ozriadasoth has left. Savaughna quickly steps out of Suraiya and whats-her-names way. "Well, what do you know," a grin and a nod to Selvorin, "But think of how weird her flights will be with her /sister/ on brown." A shudder. "Thats gonna be tricky." Selvorin shuts his eyes tightly and scrunches up his face, utterly grossed out. "Ew," he says. "EW!" He scrubs at his eyesockets with his fists as if to expunge the idea from his brain. Up on the ledges, "Five plus, then," V'lano laughs, unbothered by B'rakis' smirk. "Not my job, sir. If it becomes my job, I'll bring a slate." He even offers the Istan Weyrleader a wink on this remark, then turns his attention back to Emilly. "Kisses?" Is there an echo in here? Captivated by Wanderlust Brown tromps, with gusto, as a plan seems to form in his mind: the same plan, perhaps, that accompanied him throughout his time held captive by the egg's shell, and taking his cue from the green just hatched, the sienna-soaked brown lowers himself to slink in a fast-paced motion of abandonment towards a group of white-robes and then weaves in and out in what appears to be a completely random pattern. Dust flies behind him, but he could care less, and a joyful little burble sound that might have been supposed to be a trumpet, sounds. He could be chasing his tail for all he cares, as long as he can keep moving, exploring. Up on the ledges, St'vren says under his breath, "Rusuth, repeat that green's name for me?" Pause. "Again, slowly." Pause again. "Okay. I prefer your name. Less chance of biting my tongue." Now he can listen to the conversation again. "Oh boy, Emilly. I think your work's cut out for you." On Wings of Beauty Green moves with daintiness, immediately lifting herself a bit prouder as the wildly undulating brown distracts attention from her with his actions, and what begins as a disdainful little sniff instead segues into a warble of cheered encouragement, as if a thought was dropped half-way in favor of another. Her own little dance joins that of the brown, regardless of whether he pays attention to her or not, and the gentle gait picks up some speed as she continues to roam. Up on the ledges, B'rakis is also trying to pronounce that name. "I guess she'll be called 'Oz', when it gets down to it. Or something, anyway. I can't imagine being a Weyrlingmaster and having to shout out all of that in a hurry. Not many left now, eh?" The apricot and peach shades of Sleepy Afternoon Cuddles Egg turn suddenly darker towards the top, the form within insisting upon immediate freedom. Not soon granted, it's only after long moments of struggle that a tiny circle of tippy-top shell cracks and pops off completely. A dark turquoise corner of snout surfaces very briefly, then a wet curl of black talon; finally, the shadows within shift to one side and the egg tips, cracking weakly against the soft sand. Now a large piece of restraint can be pushed aside, and the young blue reveals himself, sea-colored at maw and tailtip, a clear day's brilliance across the rest of his stout form. The hatchling spins around, only disorienting himself further, but there's a destination in mind, as if he's already made his decision -- and there she is, suddenly dead ahead. Impression occurs before the blue has even completed his paces toward Tadiere, and the distractable girl is abruptly very singular in focus. "Astianth! I know, I know you are." Rachiel looks at the green hatchling as she walks around, wondering who she will pick as her lifemate. Lisle moves a bit behind a rather larger guy, peeking out compulsively just in case he's too slow to realize that danger is coming. Her lip is caught in her teeth and her nose is wrinkled rather unattractively for her focus. Captivated by Wanderlust Brown's antics come to an end, his inspection complete, and his decision made. Now, all that matters is for the decision to become clear to him and those who are watching -- for the audience is always there to please. A second sweep of those on the sands, beginning with a striking devil-may-care look towards his parents, concludes with his gangly limbs settling before an equally gawky looking adolescent. A low growl emits, testing the resolve of this one, and the stare of thick-ridged eyes are heavy onto this boy, before his short tail swings around, sending a dust cloud into the air to claim him. Triumphantly, with a unfurling of his magnificent wings, his! "Well it could happen!" Savaughna snickers at Selvorin's discomfit, though she does look rather grossed out by the whole concept herself, too. "I'm glad they both impressed, though. It'd be weird to have your twin impress and you end up with nothing, you know?" And now she shoots a glare at the ledges - just where is that sister of hers anyway. Up on the ledges, Emilly shakes her head. "I won't be assisting this time, actually," says the greenrider in an even tone of voice before nodding down towards the Sands. "Didn't know one of the Candidates was chasing around for them," she clarifies for V"lano's benefit then blinks a few times at the number of syllables stated for that green's name. "Faranth ..." Up on the ledges, "You'd have to make the dragon do it. How's it go, St'vren?" Lacking Volath to do his own repetition exercises, V'lano's left to squint and try to remember what the weyrling herself cried out. "Ozzy. Ozzri. -- Emilly?" Suddenly concerned, the bronzerider turns toward the greenrider, startlement in the dark eyes beneath worried furrowed brows. "You won't be?" On Wings of Beauty Green pauses in her graceful dance along the sands, the sudden pause in motion not stilling the vibrating thrum that coasts along sinewed limbs. It's the ever large wings that react first, the spars of which begin the pivot motion of rotating the lengthy frame in the opposite direction, and in this tableau she lingers, the sudden fire of a joyous blue-green interrupting the predominant orange of hunger. There, across the way, the coppery-red and snub-nosed girl has captivated her heart: It's for her that motion ceases to exist. And in a second, the tableau is shattered, feet and tail catching up with what her wings and neck already know, prior grace forgotten in haste to find the side of this long-limbed beauty to match her own. "Although, Savaughna, what does it say about twins? They most certainly aren't identical, are they?" Maja actually pipes up, acting less the animal and more the thinker. She's still got her arms crossed however, and for the most part is still in a brooding state. Up on the ledges, St'vren gives it a shot, sounding for all the world like a little reciting his lesson. "Oz-ri-a-da-soth. 'Oz' is definitely easier, if less dignified. Not that that green looked all that dignified." His reaction to Emilly's declaration is less surprised than V'lano's, but he does lift his eyebrows curiously. Selvorin is caught in the act of scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and doesn't /see/ that wandering brown's approach. A gurgling noise escapes his throat and he drops his hands, automatically stepping back, startled by the growl - and half-blinded and choked by the cloud of dust. Coughing, eyes streaming, his hands flutter as he tries to reach out to the brown dragon and wipe his eyes at the same time. "Cha-" S'vorin's voice cracks. "Chakieth?" The boy's wavering voice grows stronger as his composure returns to him. "You got /sand/ in my eyes, Chakieth," he says, his tone ringing with triumph over and above the note of complaint. And he blinks, and blinks, staring at the brown dragon, now unwilling to wipe his eyes again. S'din can finally begin slowing down now as the scurrying dragonets dwindle in number. he calls a welcome, "S'vorin and Chakieth! Our newest pair!" as he guides them off the sands. Sria's hand has found a spot against Sruth's foreleg, her recline not completely at ease, yet she seems utterly content. She glances from remaining hatchlings to candidates to Impressees, cracked voices and all. Up on the ledges, "That sounds about right," she says blithely for St'vren's pronunciation. "Though maybe 'Ozri' is a ... more elegant shortening of it." Unperturbed by V'lano's surprise, her shoulders lift and descend once more. "Maybe next Clutch." Up on the ledges, ... says Emilly. Savaughna is still yabbering on about twins and impressions and flights and things, when her mouth suddenly drops open, and her blue eyes swivel first, body then following to face the green dragon in front of her. "Kirath?" She wonders, loud voice suddenly gone whisper-quiet. "Kirath!" More joyful then, bright, with a laugh bubbling up from her throat as she bobs her head vigorously, "Yes, food, of course, together." And she doesn't even notice Selvorin impress right beside her, so infatuated and focused on Kirath is she. In the galleries, Kaelyn strides up into the stands from the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, Kaelyn has arrived. In the galleries, Josilina leans forward to peer out at the sands and, seeing the sands are empty of eggs and dragonets, gets to her feet with a small frown, heading for the stairs down to the sands. S'din smiles and gathers the new pair with him, "Congratulations Savaughna and Kirath!" and, with a last look, he follows them off the sands. Savaughna has left. Chakieth is unblinking in return, and the unfurled state of his wings stays that way to try and shroud the blinking boy -- his blinking boy. More urgent, however, comes the growl again, this time from somewhere in the pit of the dragon's abdomen, needy and quite insistent. Josilina comes down a short flight of steps from the galleries. Josilina has arrived. Kirath has left. "Right. The food. Right, right." S'vorin ushers his new-hatched brown dragon off the sands, or is it the other way 'round? S'vorin has left. Chakieth has left. S'rist comes down a short flight of steps from the galleries. S'rist has arrived. S'din has left. Up on the ledges, V'lano can't help himself - his eyes take a single, short trip up and down the greenrider's shape, looking quite unsubtly for telling signs of any distress that may have caused her excusal from assisting in training the new weyrlings. Finding nothing but a slight pinkness to the tops of his ears, he turns his gaze promptly back to the sands and murmurs, "Well, you'll have time free, then. Maybe I could come visit and we can catch up." Up on the ledges, S'lek has been quiet this whole time, but when he sees Savaughna impress - the last one, was it? he lets out a whoop! "Savaughna! Go, Savaughna!" Josilina comes down from the galleries, pausing to make sure S'rist is behind her before she crosses to near where Satiet and Sria stand, glancing at them with a faint smile before turning to face the candidates that remain. "Hi everyone. We'd just like to thank you all for standing, and for being here. And we'd like you all to know you're welcome to stay for the hatching feast, and even stay here at the Weyr, if you're not already, you know, from here. We were proud to have all of you." Up on the ledges, B'rakis join the cheers as the last of the impressions are made even as his eyes skim the sands, doublechecking to make sure all eggs are hatched. But theres the Weyrleaders of 'Reaches, so it must be over. Up on the ledges, St'vren peers down as Savaughna and her green leave the Sands. "That's the one that was talking to Satiet..." he says, mostly to himself. "That could get interesting." He surveys the Hatching Grounds, the litter of shells and at-a-loss Candidates. "It goes faster from up here, too." Maja actually notices the heat at this point, at first lifting one foot and then the other. Standing around with nothing to do has its down points. She glances up at Josilina, though allows a slight smile at the thank you message. "Not that we'd feel much like eating," she mutters. Satiet lets out a breath, the exhalation turning into her lower lip disappearing behind teeth. As the last shelled dragon moves off towards food, a process that was scant turns previous for her and well-remembered by the wrinkle of her nose, the goldrider turns to regard Sria, uncertainty of what happens at this stage reflected in the depths of blue -- until Josilina arrives and speaks, the dark-haired girl's shoulders straightening a bit. "I could just use a drink," Lisle says aside to Maja, rolling her shoulders around to try to loosen them up after such a tense evening. S'rist moves up to take a spot at Josilina's shoulder, adding a nod to her statement then speaking himself, "Indeed, we are most grateful for your commitment to the weyr and to our dragons, you are all more than welcome to remain. Now might not be the time, but if you do wish to remain, any of us would be willing to speak with you about places for you here in the weyr." Sria glances over to the approaching Weyrleaders, adding her own, "You did well, all of you. Especially with the certain events of late." She glances at Josilina, and then to Satiet. "You might feel more like eating once you've gotten off the sands." Up on the ledges, "Certainly," is Emilly's unruffled reply. "You can give me all the news from Ista at least, if not from Telgar," she follows St'vren's gaze downward. "Talking to Satiet ... how?" she inquires curiously. "And ... yes, time seem to do ... strange things when you're standing down on those Sands, doesn't it?" Josilina nods in the wake of S'rist's addition, "And /do/ please take advantage of the food and drink we've got. Especially drink. It's so hot out here..." She pauses, and then nods, "Especially with certain events. And thank you again. You're all free to go as you like." Maja glances at Lisle, considering her for a moment before nodding. "Yea, a drink might be nice." She heads off the sands. Maja has left. Up on the ledges, St'vren is leaning against Rusuth without really thinking about it, perhaps in reaction to some of the despondent figures still lingering on the Sands. "What? Oh--a few sevendays ago, two of my sisters conned me into flying them up here to see the eggs. Rusuth and I waited by the lake while they gawked, Satiet was there too, and we ended up talking for a while. Though I'm not quite sure what happened." Poor confused bronzerider. In the galleries, Tirom walks down a short flight of steps and heads out through the entrance to the bowl. In the galleries, Tirom has left. Lisle has left. Rachiel heads off of the sands after Maja, most likely to get something to drink. Rachiel heads up a short flight of steps to the galleries. Rachiel has left. Up on the ledges, B'rakis catches part of that and turns to give St'vren an amused look. "That definitely sounds like Satiet, alright." He walks toward the Telgari bronzerider, looking at V'lano. "You going to be headed back to the weyr soon?" he asks politely. Sria lets out a slow breath, glancing across to Satiet, flashing a smile, and then moving toward the remains of the eggs. She leans over to scoop up a shell fragment here and there, then surveys the sands once again. Up on the ledges, "I think I can still manage to tell you a little of Telgar's, too," V'lano chortles Emillyward. "But not just now. I've been gone hours and - " And Byrbeth's rider Isba is trying to hail him with an enthusiastic wave. "- my ride's got night duty. I'll come visit, we'll catch up. Um." And he looks at the greenrider for an awkward moment, something glittering in his eyes. B'rakis to the rescue! "Yes. Yes, I think I will be. I better be. You?" Satiet twitches, perhaps her ears are burning, but regardless she considers the departing candidates with an odd look. "Yeah, it's different on this side of things." And perhaps a bit regretful, as those blue eyes don't deviate until the last girl, Wren, traipses up the stairs towards the feast. For S'rist, Josilina, and Sria, the younger rider manages a brief smile, quirking interest in light of the latter's movements, and after a second of thought, leans forward to gather her own shells. "I never got a piece of Teonath's. I sort of wish I had." Up on the ledges, S'lek has left. Up on the ledges, S'lek scrabbles eagerly up Kannanth's side, making use of a helpfully extended forelimb for leverage, and settles between the bronze's lower neckridges with an air of self-satisfaction. Up on the ledges, Kannanth leaps off of the ledge and into the air. Crossing the cavern, he swoops into the tunnel, leaving the hatching grounds. Up on the ledges, Kannanth has left. Up on the ledges, "Drinks sound good to me," St'vren says amiably. "I promise not to embarrass Telgar's good name. And I'll drink one for you, V'lano." S'rist smiles, "Actually, it might be nice if we could have someone collect some of the bigger pieces. It's nice to have a bit of the egg as a keepsake. I had a bit of Dzurath's made into the top of a box I keep things in." He looks over towards Satiet and Sria, "It was an excellent clutch you two, you and your lifemates should be very proud."

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