gold Teonath x brown Sruth - 27 August 2005

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gold Teonath x brown Sruth
Approx. Age:	65 turns
Flight:	22nd June, 2005 / Day 16, Month 10, Turn 3
Clutching:	17th July, 2005 / Day 1, Month 2, Turn 4,
Hatching:	27 August, 2005 Day 18, Month 7, Turn 8
Count:	13 eggs
Composition:	2 bronze, 2 brown, 3 blue, and 5 green
Egg Theme:	Things of comfort.
Dragon Theme:	Muppets.

Rough Around the Edges Bronze Vildaeth	bronze	C'len
Life is Strange Blue Neiveth	blue	L'sen
Corobith	blue	Mielline	(NPC)
Captivated By Wanderlust Brown Chakieth	brown	S'vorin
Weathered Regard Brown Tiqueth	brown	Sarisia
On Wings of Beauty Green Kirath	green	Savaughna
Free Flowin' Fun Green Ozriadasoth	green	Suraiya
Lights in Lime Green Deneth	green	Te'an
Wizened Violet-Bronze Isorath	bronze	X'dyr

• 003.10.16: Teonath's Maiden Flight

• 004.02.01: The Clutching of Teonath and Sruth's Eggs

• 004.07.28: Teonath and Sruth's Clutch Hatches

Candidates: Cullen, Lassen, Lisle, Maja (later Impressed brown Vesereth at High Reaches Weyr), Rachiel, Sarisia, Savaughna, Selvorin, Suraiya, Tahiri, Terlan, Xeledyr

Egg Writers: Birgitte, Emilly, Josilina, Karimina, L'ian, Linnea, Satiet, Sria, T'bay, Tarien, V'lano

Dragon Writers: Amilin, Josilina, Linnea, S'reit, Satiet, Sria, V'rin

Dragon Editors: Josilina, Satiet

Dragon Puppeteers: Rilsa, Divya, Josilina, Linnea, S'reit, Satiet, Sria

Search Committee: Amilin, Josilina, Linnea, S'reit, S'rist, Satiet, Sria, V'rin

Well-Loved Childhood Companion Egg

A nappy klah brown dully coats this egg, as though it had been rolled through a hand-ground mill, exposed to all sorts of calamities, and finally left as forgotten in a corner. Squat and plain, the egg boasts little of note except a texture gradiated enough to almost be visible, which only serves to make it look all the more dirty, and there's a misshapen nub on one side, bearing indents strangely akin to teeth marks. Tatters and scars in its surface are etched in as though a toddler with a charcoal marker had snuck onto the sands and drawn on a lopsided face but overlooked an eye entirely.

Clutch Pose: Teonath shifts her weight once uncomfortably to the side and swivels the sinuous curve of her neck to stare in a moment of orange speckled blue-green at her loam hued mate. The trace bits of anger give way after the continued study, and presumable communication, to a calmer blue, the gold pitching a low and controlled snarl towards Sruth, tensing immediately in the wake of the sound. Triple lids fly upward in surprise, wide-eyed in the draconic equivalent of owlishness, before a shudder ripples the golden hide and with little other fanfare the first small egg appears, looking oddly tattered along the edges and burnt in coloring, but well-loved for sure as a prehensile tail curves sand around it protectively.

Touch: Smooth in patches, hetched in others, the general feel of this shell is softly worn, as if caressed by loving hands over long periods of time. One spot near the top feels slightly damp, thought definitely hardened, as if someone has drooled onto it.

Sound: Does this egg rumble? Is there noise at all, or is it your imagination running rampant? After the initial, what if, of potential sound, the egg seems nominally silent.

Inspiration: For all the teddy bears and velveteen rabbits that have been loved to the point of demise.

Name Credit: T'bay

Desc Credit: T'bay, Satiet

Inspiration Credit: T'bay

Stormy Summers Egg

A foggy cloak of blue haze envelops this egg, blanketing bottom to top in a thick, heavy dew. Sunlit shades of green peek through the mist in crinkled bunches, the colors fading together with a soft glow near each adjustment, watercolor paints swirling in a mostly-clear mixture. Darker navy pools near the egg's base and stretches across the shell in oblong circles, littered with bits of brownish yellow and the occasional fleck of silver.

Clutch Pose: The long stretch of silence between Teonath's low snarl and Sruth's equally contained echo, encouraging the sentiment rather than challenging it, match the preparation for first and second clutched eggs; wheaten hide ripples and muscles stretch, instinct playing its due part as the parents promptly tend to the now-revealed cloud shrouded egg -- the gold creating a cage of ivory talons around it to scoot sand closer and then relinquishing care to her mate as she moves to a patch of vast sand to rest.

Touch: Rather than the beads of water this egg's coloring seems to depict, the shell is lusciously soft at first touch, like a very strong, tangible layer of thick, thick fog.

Sound: An ear to the shell seems to produce nothing but quiet stillness, a lack of sound more noticeable than any rustle of movement deep within - yet there, so faint as to perhaps be pure imagination, a soft rhythmic rainfall seems very far away indeed.

Inspiration: Summer rainstorms

Name Credit: Sria

Desc Credit: Sria

Inspiration Credit: Sria

Resonating Contentment Egg

The storm and silver of a mackerel sky greet you warmly as you arrive upon the domain of this semi-sphere. These shades fuzz the surface, a susurration of silky promise a relief to weary thoughts as to pet the tabby-stripes of this egg. From apex to curved base, around its curved lengths bands of grey, charcoal, sorrel and cream navigate in succession. These are vague colors, faded colors, old and familiar colors -- just the hint of which shadow and brush the shell, wriggle along the leathery surface with sleepy delight. Whiskers of ivory tickle the pinnacle as half-caught glimpses of white, those thin lines as faint as the contented rumbling-purr of a very large, very happy, very tired familiar friend, recalled from the depths of the mind's eye.

Clutch Pose: The brief respite seems to be all that'll be allowed by instinct, as a thin warble of inscrutable emotion escapes those pressed lips, and a dark look of accusation flies from the gold's overly large eyes towards Sruth. But it's difficult to remain frustrated in light of the comforting sight of a silver mackerel curvature from behind golden haunches. Sruth's own gaze is steady and level as he maintains his distance by tending the other two eggs laid, and then moving forward to stroke his moonlit loam neck to that of wheat-filigreed gold in silent rapport.

Touch: The tabby shell of the egg barely stirs beneath any touch, remaining curled into the sand as if too sleepy to do anything else. While warm, there is a bit of brittleness to the texture, little curlicues that rise a bit off the smoother surfaces as a groomed cowlick might be.

Sound: A rumbling purr seems to be audible seems to slide along the shell beneath the surface - calming and loving while being distant.

Inspiration: No matter what life throws at you, those bad days, that bad news, the sheer exhaustion of just existing, sometimes, in the manic world we call home, nothing can't be made just a little bit better by laying your ear down close to the wheezy-squeezy furry little tummy of a curled sleeping cat and just listening to him purr.

Name Credit: Sria

Desc Credit: Birgitte, edited by Askante

Inspiration Credit: Birgitte

Beautifully Lazy Day Egg

The surface of this egg is mostly a mixture of light sky and sapphire blues intertwined with puffy white figures. The colors come together and interweave in such that, at first glance, it appears the colors are flowing across the contours of this egg like clouds through a spring sky. One side of the egg has a dark sienna shape that appears to form a small porch swing. The illusion of movement is as with the clouds above, as the heat of the sands lifts to blur mahogany brown into brilliant blues. The warmth and calming effects of a lazy day in spring radiates from this diminutive egg.

Clutch Pose: Teonath's contracting muscles offer no relief just now; the fourth egg of the clutch finds its way to the sands with little surprise but all the welcome that can be offered. A sweep of Sruth's talons prepares the shallow dip nearby, a silent exchange evident along with his glance to the youthful queen. Her mouth sets in a firm line, a trace of apricot marring the maternal blue in her eyes, and with a deliberate sereneness to her gait, she sinks into that shallow dip and rocks lightly as if swaying in a spring breeze, moving away to reveal the wonders of a sapphire sky shell.

Touch: This egg is soft and cool to the touch as if the lazily swept sapphire colors were rebelling against the heat and gritty sand beneath it.

Sound: A soft rustle of leaves moving in the wind can be heard in this egg. However, every once and awhile the wind will be silent and an ever so soft creaking can be heard before the lazy breeze picks up again.

Inspiration: The theme for this batch of egg was 'Warm Fuzzies.' Well, as I think back, one of my favorite moments in my childhood was a lazy afternoon on my grandmother's backyard swing. I would lay there for hours reading as the smells of her garden and soft breezes lulled me to sleep. This egg is a tribute to those afternoons.

Name Credit: Karimina

Desc Credit: Karimina, with edits by Satiet

Inspiration Credit: Karimina

Sleeping Toddler Egg

Night's dark embrace covers a majority of this egg's shell, save for a wide triangle of soft, honeyed cream. The shadows that play across the egg's surface hint at a door being opened, pale peach suggestive of a hand resting upon a brassy splotch of a doorknob, as someone gazes lovingly upon the image revealed by the light. Within, nestled under a mound of soft pastel shaded blankets, lies a sleeping toddler, a fisted hand at his mouth, his face peaceful in repose. Clutch Pose: Copper-fired and night-touched brown tailtips rest near, if not touching, for a brief moment, before Sruth finds a new spot of nearby sand to accommodate the fifth egg and Teonath shifts to lay the predominately two-toned addition in its place. Before the next arrives and muscles tense once more, there's a moment for a pair of tails, dark and light, to tuck the egg into its sandy nest.

Touch: Rough, as if well-worn, the shell of this egg seems to have no smooth patches, all turbulent bumps and creases. The triangle of paler color is soft, if still varied in texture, while the not-endless shadows promise many forms hidden from the light.

Sound: This egg is still and silent but for the slow, faint creak of an ancient hinge and the occasional so-soft whisper of breath.

Inspiration: Inspired by the nightly check I used to make on my son -- who, at nine, is not such a toddler anymore. Seeing him safely tucked into bed and fast asleep always made me happy, made the day's stress fall away.

Name Credit: Tarien

Desc Credit: Tarien, minor edits by Satiet

Inspiration Credit: Tarien

Wrapped Against the Fog Egg

Pearlescent gray twinkles across the surface of this smallish egg, bringing to mind cool foggy days in Reaches' heights. The embrace of the sands around the oval gives way to a patterned swath that wraps around it, like your favorite quilt caught up to ward off fog's chill. Dotted lines in faint white separate neatly outlined squares of pale cream between a motley of many-colored diamonds. At the egg's crown, fog evaporates into floating steam, as if rising off the surface of a warm drink. There's a translucence to the shell almost at its peak, as if it might have some small defect that allows the occupant to see out through this strange skylight. Yet, if one dares to lay hand to shell, it is warm and firm to the touch, comfortable in its nest of sand.

Clutch Pose: For all the glares sent this way and that, there's a certain accord between dam and sire, a harmony of preparation and completion that glows as steady as the silvered strands of mind's illusion that link stars together into constellations. Their camaderie betrays itself in that brief tactile contact of tail tips or the accidental brush of brown to gold. For the sixth offering to the sands, placed not far from the egg of stormy skies, the dam and sire sit together, him in velvet encouragement, her in silken stoicism. Tensed muscles, soon relaxed once more, bring forth the newest addition to the clutch, its vague warmth settled well into the patterns of its parents.

Touch: All but radiating a dull heat, the shell is smooth but for the slightly rougher, raised dashes of white.

Sound: Too muffled to hear anything at all, that is in fact the only sound to hear: quite as if the egg's patchwork cloak were big enough to enclose those nearby, as well.

Inspiration: Those chilled foggy days where the gloom seems to envelope everything are made brighter by a loving quilt wrapped over your shoulders.

Name Credit: Emilly

Desc Credit: Emilly

Inspiration Credit: Emilly

Cuppa and Cream Egg

The surface of this small egg is a swirling blend of even hues from creamed-klah to glassy pale brown, here and there fading to thin streaks of milky white. Flecks of a darker hue decorate the shell just above the base line, reminiscent of tea leaves or coarse brittles of klah bark that have sunk below the even creamy whorls. A rounded base settles neatly into the dip of sand which cradles the shell, while a certain flattened shape on top suggests both a cup-like shape and the possibility that the egg has been turned only once since being clutched.

Clutch Pose: The strain against her hide seems to be alleviated as pressure along her distended abdomen fades with each egg clutched. Still, with all the gumption she can muster, a sardonically humored melody is shared with Sruth, who is already readying for the next egg by creating a wallow. Those who have nothing to prove, as she appears to believe, can afford the time to laugh at themselves even midst another contracting of hind muscles. Or maybe it's just jittering nerves and an overly wakeful, if pained, state. With a grace that must be forced if that tightened set of Teonath's jaw is any indication at all, she propels herself across the sand to the pre-made deposit point and squats inelegantly. When she moves away to rest her limbs, the heady swirls of cream and glassy brown that are revealed seems to fade into the cradle of sand, the shading given a wry look of paternal approval.

Touch: Smooth to the touch, this egg is warmer in the darker places and cooler in the paler ones. If one holds one's hand quite still, a sense of motion may be barely discerned beneath one's fingertips, which can be somewhat disruptive to the equilibrium.

I>Sound: The egg is all but silent. A soft whispery breath may be discerned, but could as easily come from shifting sand or clutchparent dragons as from the egg itself. However, a faint herbal scent, sweet and rich, clings to the shell.

Inspiration: Either coffee or tea - either one strong, black, and tempered with cream and sugar to a sweet, creamy concoction to be enjoyed on the patio or kitchen table, eyes closed, hands warm around the cup.

Name Credit: V'lano

Desc Credit: V'lano, minor edits by Satiet

Inspiration Credit: V'lano

Dewy Sunlit Field Egg

Gradient strokes of a deep earthen brown towards a feathered spring green rise from the lower curve of this egg in a slant. The touch of a spring breeze dances through the various blades, slivers of a misted blue peeking out from behind, and casts the illusion of a field bathed in a zephyr's dance, sunlit glory coruscanting throughout. It is washed from above by a splotch of clouded white that drapes over the very top curve, a gentle nose or handprint creating the slightest of dents to the perfect ovular shape. Of average size, it sits well in its little mound of sand, tilted just so to afford views of the streaks of rose and lavender skirting the edge of green, dotted lightly with what appears to be dew.

Clutch Pose: Teonath, for a moment, seems a bit concerned with the lopsided dumpiness of the previous egg and noses it gently to one side. The taxing endeavors of laying eggs must be wearing the gold's exterior unflappability thin for a sharp rumble ensues from behind, and for a moment there's a contest of quiet wills between rank of hide and seniority of time before the pale queen acquiesces, leaving the last egg to the ministrations of sire, and moves on towards the next Sruth-created divot. Good timing too, for as soon as she sinks down, the ripples of musculature in her back calves indicate more egg duct movement and a bright, sun-lit burst of spring is revealed. The previous egg, however, carries with it a slight indent along the top where both dam and sire have touched their muzzles.

Touch: The hardening surface is brittle to the touch, the sand having lodged in various rivets along the egg's shell. Each color seems to be definied by a very minute protrusion that outlines shapes, and each 'dew drop' is actually a small, smoothed out bump where the shading of color is darker to offset it even more. Sound: The sounds of youthful laughter seems to echo softly within the shell, carried by an early spring breeze, and the soft scent of rain, either impending or just past seems to pervade the area this egg is in.

Inspiration: I'm not the most outdoorsy of people, in fact, as a child, grass and the outdoors scared me to the point of tears (especially grass). But, that being said, the sight of dew-laden fields of green, the soft scent of burgeoning spring flowers, and the sun that shines above it all through a morning mist creates a sense of peace within me. As long as, of course, I'm looking at it only for a few minutes outside, or from the safe distance of my window.

Name Credit: Satiet

Desc Credit: Satiet

Inspiration Credit: Satiet

Melt In Your Mouth Egg

Medium brown pours over rounded edges and plump curves, coating this egg in a practically uniform shade of carob. Breaking up the sweetly smooth darkness are scattered flecks of blue and green - just a few: near both base and apex, and one sliver of grass-green along a side; all so bright they look nearly metallic. In one spot streaky lines of a lighter brown crisscross over the egg's middle, intersecting to create the impression of an eight-rayed star.

Clutch Pose: A quiet rumble from Sruth is short-lived, as if a silent regard broke free to the surface, as Teonath's rest is once again interrupted by an uncomfortable tension in her diminutive frame. But that discomfort is short-lived, and a gentle caress of her tail to the sands is evidence of just how much melting ease relieves the egg from the duct. Glinting gazes back and forth, reflected in the multifaceted eyes of each bearer, serve to match the bright accents of the mostly-brown egg next revealed.

Touch: Overall, the egg's shell feels smooth and a tiny bit damp even in the dry heat of the Sands, as if perhaps it were melting. The brighter flecks of color have a slicker, dryer feel, like little bits of thin metal.

Sound: At first it seems there's nothing to be heard, but then, if you wait, it seems you can barely make out a faint crinkling sound, like foil being crumpled. Inspiration: Chocolate Cadbury egg, wrapped in little bits of foil. It's chocolate, how can it not be a warm fuzzy?

Name Credit: Sria

Desc Credit: Josilina

Inspiration Credit: Josilina

Honeyed Rosehips Egg

Petals of wild roses are thrown as ruby leaves across this medium sized, spherical egg, tossed in untamed abandon with tiny nubs of golden chamomile along the honeycomb surface of porcelain and gold. Nestled within the twist and turn of an imagined arbor, well steeped tea gathers only in the leather's rough crevices, darkening the shell with a tisane of liquid auburn and winnowings of russet and brown, a delicate fusion that suggests the essence of fragrant memory. A dollop of true golden honey runnels along the top from one end to the other, swirling and curling amber to rose in with light-hearted delight, small speckles of darker tannin stain implying the buzz of tiny insects, and splashes of multi-hued beauty a pattering schmetterling upon the shell's base.

Clutch Pose: As if like colors are being matched with like, Teonath find herself tipping to one side in a feat of multi-tasking, to curl out a depression of sand for the, evidently, very quick to arrive next egg. With Sruth seemingly preoccupied with the oddly shaped egg, the queen has respite from even the slightest of attentions of her mate, though those in the galleries receive a rather inscrutable look that might be a passive request for privacy. Fat chance. Resigned to her fate, the fast arrival of a blossoming rose egg and the comfort of honeyed chamomile tossed into the fray seems to soothe her, and it must either be getting easier, or this medium egg has found easy passage in the wake of a larger one.

Touch: Warmth spreads beneath your touch like spilled sunshine, filling your senses with lightness, sweetness, and a touch of pleasure whether it is looked for or not.

Sound: There is no sounds emanating from this egg, but the calm wash of peace and sweetness prevails in that most charming of silences.

Inspiration: So I know High Reaches did 'Tea Eggs' not too long ago, but there's always good to be found at the bottom of a cup of very good, very hot, very sweet tea, especially if it involves rosehips as well. Its good for the spirit, the soul, and the sweet tooth. What -more- does one need?

Name Credit: Birgitte

Desc Credit: Birgitte, edits by Askante

Inspiration Credit: Birgitte

Always Refreshing Egg

Three shades of gray spiral this egg like waves on an ocean of silver, strands of red, black and white playing counterpoint to the silvery-gray that drowns the majority of the egg. On closer inspection, tiny oval and round shapes on the surface look like bubbles coming up for air, and still more bright red scrawls across the surface in an indecipherable, curling script.

Clutch Pose: And then there was a calm, when nothing but the heat of the sands rises to swelter the various non-draconic entities either on ground or in the somewhat cooler galleries. Teonath sinks to her forelimbs, slender neck curved down in the breather allowed. Sruth first watches the youthful queen, an exchange of silent conversation, turning his head towards the galleries as well, and an equally expressionless look is gifted towards a tiny girl near the front. When the heat seems to be at its most unbearable, and some of the galleries begins to get impatient with the wait, Teonath moves, revealing the refreshing sight of bubbles laid into a somehow cool, thirst quenching triple shade of colors.

Touch: The egg's surface is as smooth as a sheet of glass, and somehow seems as if it would be more pliable, thinner, yet have the same kind of sharp edges once cracked.

Sound: A slight melody distracts the listener, here, for it's too faint to be any sort of certainty. The only sound to be sure of is a soft fizzing and the occasional click-pop.

Inspiration: The inspiration for this egg was a Diet Coke can, something I can't live without, at least when it's full. Not only is it refreshing to drink (though some might argue that point), the Coca Cola brand name has been part of American life for decades.

Name Credit: Sria

Desc Credit: L'ian. Minor edits, texture, sound by Sria.

Inspiration Credit: L'ian

Raindrops on Roses Egg

Dark, rich magenta reaches up in swaths from the basin of color at the base of this egg, gradually giving way to soft pinks. Subtle shading lines separate each concentration of color into petals, unfurling deceptively outward in an inviting faux-dimensional embrace. Timorously dotting these shaded shapes are a scattering of precariously placed clear blots resembling droplets of translucent water captured mid-beading and likely to remain frozen there despite the heat of the sands.

Clutch Pose: Quick on the heels of the bubbles is a dark rose that sits elegantly, perched against a spiral of red, neither movement of hide, nor accordance by sire preceding it's arrival. It might have been overlooked for its smallish size if it weren't for the brilliance of its deep colors that seems to settle a sense of peace in the dragon. Or else she's completely been drained by the ordeals of the day. Sruth is gentle in his nudge, the slender muzzle lowering to the gold neck that curls on the sands, tracing up her spine before pivoting to check on the nearby sapphire of another egg, keeping his tail within reach.

Touch: Soft, petal like beneath the touch, the shell is completely smooth all around, with little to distinguish each curling petal or bead of glistening water. Sound: The gentle sound of a spring rain tapering off sounds in and out, a background noise to the tiny plinks of one drop of rain magnified as it falls towards a rose-hued petal.

Inspiration: As the name suggests, the beauty and calm of raindrops on roses, though there are no whiskers on kittens here.

Name Credit: Linnea

Desc Credit: Linnea

Inspiration Credit: Linnea

Sleepy Afternoon Cuddles Egg

Translucence descends onto the mantle of apricot and peach that drape over a large egg in a veneer resembling liquid sunlight peeking sporadically through blinds. Entangled colors in the most abstract of forms then dance across the shell's glistening surface: darker apricots tucked beneath the curvature of peach, a splattering of gold-dusted ebony shaping a bent head coupled with a careless streak of smudged charcoal that seems to place a chin above the hair. In general, an ethereal peace prevails in the muted colors of this large egg, the hazy cast of sun's gold weaved through pale brushes of an aquamarine breeze.

Clutch Pose:/B> The eggs are slower in coming now, and a few dragonhealers at the very fringes of the sands converse lowly. The parents, one exhausted and moving by sheer instinct, the other doing what little he knows will be accepted to support his queen move as one, apathetic for the lowly voiced approval that the end is soon. As one, the touch of tails creeps up on them again, Teonath curling the narrowed bit of copper-gold beneath that of Sruth's burgundy and carmine tinted brown. Twined as such, they herald the arrival of translucent sliver of tangible sunlight mixed with the apricot of waning day.

Touch: A softness, like the fuzz of fresh peaches to the touch, wraps around the shell of this egg. The slivers of aquamarine that dance through are completely smooth, cool where the sands are hot.

Sound: There's little noise from the egg, except what seems to be the peaceful sounds of light slumber, a soft acdence of breathing inhaled and then exhaled. Every so often, a whisper of a wind will seem to pass by.

Inspiration: Summer afternoons spent lazing by an open window, so a mild breeze comes into cool down the room, cuddling in the arms of a loved one and falling into one of those light, but very peaceful sleeps.

Name Credit: Satiet, V'lano

Desc Credit: Satiet

Inspiration Credit: Satiet

Dasire and green Arkaiyeth

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!"

Mairene and blue Donaneth

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."

E'cir (Eccir) and green Erialth

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!"

Tadiere and blue Astianth

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."

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