Logs:A Tense Touching
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| RL Date: 22 October, 2015 |
| Who: Everett, Farideh, Faryn, Lycinea, Nikalas, Rategar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh hosts an egg touching that turns out to have more nerves and tension than most. |
| Where: Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 1, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions |
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>---< Hatching Sands, High Reaches Weyr(#356RIJMas) >------------------------<
Whether one enters from the main bowl entrance or one of the smaller
tunnels at the back of the cavern, golden-brown sand glitters and swelters
in every direction. Close inspection reveals that while the large egg
pieces have been gathered up, small fragments remain mixed into the hot
sand, record of a thousand hatchings. The main source of light is a huge
window of sky high in the wall that also serves as an aerial entrance, its
overhang just deep enough to admit light and cooler air but fend off
harsher weather.
The sands' setting designs them to be the focus of the vast amphitheater,
with tiers upon tiers of galleries rising up its southwestern side near
the tunnel to the bowl, and rings of dragon ledges higher yet: heat and
architecture combining into what can be a palpable sense of pressure. By now, most of weyrfolk have heard that the dragonhealers have suggested Roszadyth and Lythronath's eggs will hatch within the sevenday; anticipation grows as the eggs continue to harden. It's a grumpy-looking Farideh that escorts the candidates onto the sands via the tunnel from outside, peeling off her winter weather gloves finger by finger. "Remember-- don't break anything. You're all just lucky Lythronath is otherwise indisposed," she sighs, turning narrowed hazel eyes on the line of candidates as they shuffle in. All of the eggs are accounted for and dutifully watched by an attentive Roszadyth, whose tail is curled protectively around one of the small, dark eggs in the brood. Winter clothes are inadvisable once on the sands, so Lycinea's first stop after following the rest of the candidates onto the sands is a spot just by the entry where she shucks coat and accouterments. Her steps toward the eggs are measured but her path veers toward the weyrwoman to tilt her head and smile toward the brunette before moving to the egg nearest her. She doesn't move to touch it yet. Instead, she asks of Farideh, "Is Roszadyth looking forward to the hatching?" with an arch of a brow that inquires without words if she is as well. Rategar isn't always around despite his wearing the white knot - save for chores. He's here, though, hands in pockets as he trails toward the end of the line of candidates approaching the clutch. He has an easy gait as he listens in on those candidates close to him, his gaze falling on Farideh in the end as she speaks the rules. Shedding coat and scarf is one thing, but the best Everett is left with as his sweater is concerned is pushing sleeves up against the stifling heat. Farideh gets a look that is not what one would typically describe as "respectfully attentive", but some thoughts are best left unvoiced, apparently. Instead, he pipes up just with, "I think everybody's looking forward to the Hatching at this point." "Lythronath." Faryn's murmur is vexed, though it's been sevens since she had to deal with the bronze in any direct fashion. From the edge of the candidates, a couple armslengths away with her arms crossed over her chest, half-cold and half-recalcitrant, her eyes drift skyward briefly, like Lythronath might descend and ruin their days at the mere sound of his name. She's been here at least once before, it seems; her lips move silently with Farideh's rules. "I half hoped they'd all hatch together," she remarks mildly, unfastening the front of her jacket and not loitering to speak; her path is ambling and without apparent destination, eyes drifting along the eggs. Each of the candidates comes under the wary gaze of the weyrwoman, before her eyes finally stray to Lycinea with some finality. "Roszadyth looks forward to seeing what the eggs hold and what matches they make from amongst you. I, however," Farideh says, flipping her gloves back and forth with one hand in a dramatic gesture, "will be glad to not see this cavern for at least another two turns-- perhaps three if we're all lucky." Everett, and then Faryn, gain respective glances that don't last. "Days. Just days left." "No more second thoughts?" is pitched to Everett casually before Lycinea moves to reach a single hand out for the hardened shell before her. Just before she makes contact, she looks to Rategar, the look enigmatic, perhaps challenging if one chose to take it that way. Faryn's words have her, "Once would've been nice," is agreed, but no use lingering on what didn't happen. Rat keeps silent as he pushes his way through the knot of candidates towards the eggs. He gives both Lycinea and Everett looks, curious at most, before he briefly joins Faryn in watching the skies. Since he sees nothing, "The sooner, the better, I say," is his comment to no one in particular with a sniff in his Bitran accent. That presumably about the hatching. He nods to Farideh in the end though before the clutch gets his attention. The question from his fellow Candidate gets nothing more than a shrug from Everett--so evidently not? "Sooner, the better," he agrees, as he heads out towards the eggs and a rather noncommital look over them. "I'm hoping to never see it from this vantage point again, myself. But wouldn't want to wish that on Roszadyth. Obviously." The last with a smile for Farideh that is overly-polite. "Hi, Roszadyth." Faryn breaks from the conversation to murmur her courtesies to the gold, finishing the last button on her jacket but not removing it. She'll leave it open in front, instead, and reach out to rest her palm against the mid-sized egg. "If she's like her dam," ventures Faryn carefully, almost goading, "she might rise again within a turn. Turn and a half?" Niahvth's gone, obviously, but Faryn turns automatically to evaluate the sands where the older queen used to rest among her own eggs, and the twitch of her smile is at least a tiny bit amused. "You're all that eager to become weyrlings?" One might think Farideh surprised, except her expression doesn't move much from what it's been this whole time, even as her voice pitches higher. "It's not been two sevendays since Niahvth's eggs hatched. They're still playing catchup. Be," sigh, "patient." She gives her head a disbelieving shake - not only for the impatience, but Everett's polite smile and Faryn's goading words -- and meanders around the perimeter of the eggs, observing the candidates and eggs closest. Roszadyth watches from where she's cozied up with that one egg, her attention on the candidates touching her eggs. Lycinea's blue-green eyes shift from the egg to Faryn as she not quite goads the pregnant goldrider, a single brow arching as if to ask really? It's amazing just how interesting eggs can become with just a few right words. "I don't know that I'd call it eager. Maybe wanting to move on if this hatching will be like the last." The simply added, "It will be for some of us," comes with a roll of her shoulders, as if the outcome didn't matter. She glances thoughtfully between Everett and Rat but offers nothing particular to either man. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't want dragons, whether or not that happens to be a half-mad sort of thing to aspire to," Everett observes. "The weyrling bit has just been made non-optional by the authorities." It's that on-my-best-behavior smile again. "But I'd take life-back-to-normal, if that was the only other option available, over the waiting. Isn't enough liquor in the Reaches to make the waiting tolerable." His interest in the eggs is entirely perfunctory, proceeding like he's got some sort of internal goal to at least brush fingers with the lot of them, but not like he aspires to any deep connections. Eyeing Roszadyth as he steps forward, Rategar nods to Everett - the nod one of knowing and comaraderie - as he passes him by reaching out to the closest egg before him. The Farideh-goading is getting his open amusement, his grin directed towards the weyrwoman as he runs one hand over the shell surface. To the question though, "I'm eager to have this waiting around over and done with," is his answer, likely behind many others. He moves on to the next egg he sees. Faryn snorts at Farideh's disbelief. "You remember the anticipation," she says, flashing a half-smile at Lycinea for that expressive raise of the brow but not repenting. Rategar's answer seems to strike her as amusing, because Faryn draws her fingers from the egg she is at and moves to the next nearest with the same gentle caution. The tension in her voice suggests it's killing her to agree with him, as does the withering look she spares him a half second, but she can't avoid the truth. "That's me, too. The anticipation, it's a wonder half of us aren't in the healer's care with the stress of it. I might be going gray." "I don't know remember it that well. I don't think I was wishing the days away in any case, but, things were different with that clutch." Farideh stops to watch one of the youngest candidates caress the pink egg with still-mittened hands. "I suppose it's good you're all prepared for the what next, if it doesn't work out," like they haven't already lived through one clutch in recent days. "Different because it you were the one ready to where the white tuber sack," Lya points out with a flash of a cheeky smile toward the brunette with the big knot. She moves to another egg before suggesting to the bunch, "We could make a game out of the waiting. I imagine we'd have to do something other than 'take a shot when' since that might-- well." They can use their imaginations when it comes to drunk candidates, certainly. "Are we actually obliged to be sober? I wasn't paying attention, last time." Read into that what you will; Everett is suddenly very interested in an egg. "We're all prepared for it not working out, or nearly all. This clutch gets all the rejects from the last one. And those eggs from the last one didn't even bother hatching." Did he say that out loud? Oops. Rat fixates on one egg right now before he takes a step back from it, Faryn's reluctant agreement with his words getting short laughter from him. Perhaps it's really the look she sends that's the reason for it. "I prefer to just take everything as it comes. Impress or not." He seems to be in agreement with Everett, the bartender's logic seeming to get his approval with a look. The next egg gets his perusal but not his touch. Faryn's fallen silent, her ear pressed to the egg she's selected and her eyes closed, like she's listening, to make sure they're not--duds, really, and thank, Everett, for being so tactful. Perhaps she doesn't hear anything worthwhile; perhaps the worthwhile thing is Everett's input. At any rate, she draws away from the egg and shoots him a glare. "Didn't bother? Really? I don't think, given a choice, they stuck in there. It's not like they said they'd come to your turnday party and didn't show up. They're--" Dead. She doesn't have to say it, though, does she? "Different because the Weyrwoman died in a burning building, and the unknowns were a lot more scary than the waiting. Things change from time to time," Farideh says, skirting around the pink egg and its admirer, before giving Everett a slanted, disapproving stare. "What if your dragon would have been in one of those eggs? Is it funny, then?" Farideh's reminder is sobering to Lycinea. Any cheer she had (which is really rather limited for her in general) is gone as her hands drop away from the egg she touches. Only once Farideh looks to Everett does Lycinea give her a hard look, troubled. She steps back away from the egg, carefully, her eyes moving to go from Faryn to Everett to Rat. If there's going to be an argument, it seems she'll be a spectator. "Did I say it was funny? It just is, that's all. You don't know that, do you?" The last to Faryn instead of Farideh; Everett's attention isn't being very sticky at this point. Fleeting contact with one more egg, and then he shifts to hang back, regarding the clutch as though there's something inherently untrustworthy about all this. Like one of them could be a bomb, about to explode. "But none of us knows anything except that we're still here." It's not that Nikalas has been quiet, so much as keeping out of visible trouble, spending quality time with several of the less striking eggs in turn; now, once farideh's gone by, he makes to clap the pink egg's admirer on the shoulder, saying, "Guess it didn't get gray like like the others up close, huh?" He moves to touch the egg itself next, carefully, but not like pink's infectious or anything. If he looks over towards Everett and the others, he's not bothering to be discreet about that either. Rat has enough cleverness to keep his mouth shut when Farideh and Faryn rounds on Everett for his comments. Whenever death is brought up, it's common to have the tall candidate fall silent, his attention lingering on the next egg that he touches. With the conversation turning serious, he looks from one to the next, landing last on Lycinea and meeting her gaze with a slightly widened eyes. There's even a slight hunch of shoulders as if deciding he should shrug at this. "No more than you know they just couldn't be assed to hatch," Faryn says with a glance at Roszadyth. But it doesn't seem she's going to fight, not really. The ex-crafter's displeasure is confined well, her voice hard but not loud, her posture tight but controlled, and she doesn't seem to want it to escalate. She draws her hands away from the egg she is near as well, the furrow between her brows indicative of more concern than annoyance at this point. It likely takes all of the willpower Farideh has to simply roll her eyes towards the cavern ceiling. "For Faranth's sake, Everett, don't be so dramatic," says the dramatic one. "You Impress or you don't." She bites her tongue then, to keep from further remarks, but her eyes flick past the former bartender, taking in Nikalas and Rategar at their respective places. "Anyone else have lovely words of wisdom to share about candidacy and standing?" Her tone isn't very nice. If they both roll their eyes hard enough in the same direction, maybe the orbit of Pern can be disrupted and either doom or save the world? No, probably not, just a bit out of sync. "One way or the other. If you'll excuse me?" Or even if she doesn't, Everett seems to intend to take his leave, heading off the sands in the direction of his coat. Lycinea's blue-green gaze meets Rategar's and holds for a moment, but her expression is unreadable. Then it's back to Faryn, Farideh and Everett. The young woman's lips press together and she turns away from the lot so she can focus in on another egg. There's just enough pull to her lips that it might be called a frown. Nik's got a fervent headshake for that question-- not even unlovely words for him-- and looks quizzically past to Rategar before giving that pink egg a last pat and moving on. Kasey's been ignoring the littlest eggs, spending the most time around that one with the yellowish blotch and those that just look big; the now-taller of the brothers-- take that, Kase!-- slopes off away from that particular cluster of people, not unlike Lya, only he's headed toward that sticky-black egg. He touches it. Pulls his hand back. Touches it again. All right then. Another egg and Everett's turning to leave, Rategar watching him with an open frown and furrowed brows. To Farideh, right behind Nikalas, "I was never known to be wise," is all he verbally answers on that front, passing a look towards those close to him before he runs a finger over the egg that has his attention. There's a studying look being given to those in question - Farideh, Everett, and Faryn - as he does so, his demeanor thoughtfully quiet. Faryn does, even if Farideh didn't ask. "I'm glad I can't do it again." She watches Everett for a moment, and it seems she might be ready to follow him (and, possibly, deck him on principle), but she doesn't. She instead pulls away from the egg she was listening to and it's convoluted pathways, to drift further to the edge of the small clutch in silence. She won't go, not like that. She just goes a bit quiet, thinking, and every once in a while putting her ear to a shell. Now that they've gotten comfortable, now that Everett is taking his leave, an equally as irritable Farideh slaps her gloves against her side. "Enough." She jerks her chin at the candidates, and even meets the stares of a few with purpose. "Get out. All of you. Now." And never come back, she must have meant to say! Arms akimbo, she stands in place, mouth set in a displeased line, as slowly, one by one, the candidates evacuate the hatching caverns. Roszadyth? She' still watching, if not as fretfully as her rider. Lycinea glances back toward the weyrwoman, expression still more or less unreadable but not of the good variety. Wordlessly, she moves to collect her winter things and duck out of the cavern. With anger flowing all around, Rat doesn't look at all surprised that he's being thrown off the sands. He grabs his things and heads out behind the others, casting one final glance back at Farideh as he goes - darkly thoughtful all the way. That slap gets Nikalas' attention again, and the teenager sighs; he gives the dark egg a scruffy rub for old times' sake, then moves to follow suit with the others. But as long as there's a line, and as long as there's waiting, he glances back at that little egg Roszadyth's got, too. |
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