Ysmalath x Zippith Clutching

Lymera is hovering in the background, eyes on the large, dominating gold waddling around the middle of the hatching sands. Lydiere is greeted with a rather enthusiastic wave. "Hello there! For once, Ysmalath didn't decide to do it in the middle of the night, isn't it amazing?" Nose wrinkles as she glances towards the clutching mother. "I swear, she does it out of spite, just to wake me up." There's a rumble from the expectant mother, before she begins to crouch, breathing heavily and sending her bad breath wooshing out towards the galleries.

"That's not just amazing, Lymera, that's astounding!" avers Lydiere, who enters the sands with a baby in her arms, as if she's been interrupted and hasn't had a chance to deposit the child anywhere. She does /that/ in quick order, stepping across the sands to the galleries, from where she passes the baby up to one of the nannies, after a few muttered word of explanation. She turns back, adding, "Maybe she's calming down in her… I won't say old age. That probably wouldn't be a good idea."

Lymera laughs, running a hand through her hair. Or at least trying to — she hasn't had time to brush her hair, and thus her fingers get caught in the tangbles within moments. "Argh…" Hand is released, and Lymera continues. "I wouldn't, although she /is/ distracted right now, so you might surivive." A sigh escapes. "She still didn't give me enough warning to make myself pretty. Oh, shush, I can too look pretty, I'm not that bad you …" Obviously, Ysmalath's not that distracted. Lymera is cut off, however, as the first egg makes its entrance.

Stained Viridian Egg
Moss-green dominates, burnished malachite mingling with mottled khaki as it plasters over the base and sides off this earthy ovoid. Uniform this egg is not, however, and at first glance there are hues of gaunt sage, pallored saffron and lurid snow. Winding and branching their way up the sides of the egg towards the crown are rusted veins of scarlet, though unseen force prevents them from climbing too high, the summit unreachable. Colour changes towards the zenith, layering through soft butter through to a murky cream. Where this layering occurs, clouded jade seems to flake away from aureate, and at the very top of the egg there is a single point that seems free of the faded demeanour of the egg, a redeeming splash of ethereal ice.

The egg escapes from it's mother with almost too much energy — it rolls up to the edge of the hollow made for it by dearest mama, pausing for a moment before sinking back into its space.

Lydiere glances towards Ysmalath, then back towards Lymera. "I'll definitely pass, just in case. I don't think it's a very wise idea, no matter /how/ occupied she is." She leans, up by the galleries, scanning them for faces she knows - a smile blossoms upon her lips as she greets people, with a wave of her hand echoing the motion. Turning back, she spies the newest egg, considering it. "Pretty," she declares, at length.

R'yn steps down onto the sands from the Foyer.

Zippith steps down onto the sands from the Foyer.

Lymera's head tilts on the side as she mulls over Lydiere's verdict. "Hrm…" Lips pout slightly. "It's very green. I wonder if it has a green inside, or if it's just camoflage? Maybe a bronze?" Lymera likes bronzes. Really. Well, most bronzes. "R'yn!" Hand lifts to wave at her Weyrleader — "Where've you been? She's already got started…" In fact, Ysmalath has moved on, after casting a swirly-eyed glance around the sands to make sure that everyone has noticed Her Egg. Her movements are slow, laboured, legs moving as if pulled down by a heavy force. "Stop being so dramatic!" Her life mate is obviously not sympathetic, so Ysmalth comes to a halt and lowers her wings modestly.

R'yn and Zippith arrive with a flare of wings and an unbuttoned shirt, quite clearly unprepared for a clutching, despite the fact that it's patently been about to happen for days. The Weyrleader even goes so far as to look a little disgruntled as he strides quickly across to join the weyrwomen, Zippith far less so as he rumbles a deep, bass greeting to Ysmalath. "Did it have to be right now?" R'yn's voice is a low hiss, meant not to carry as far as the galleries, but it probably does. "I was in the middle of something important! Of all the times, Ysmalath!"… I'd been working on her for months." Unfortunately for the poor girl he's referring to, she seems to be forgotten as soon as he finishes his complaint, attention instead focussed on the first egg.

Veined Lactescence Egg
Smooth tendrils of thick cream drape in liquid adornment, wan yellows extending fine trickles of colour that ensnare the shallow curves of this fragile shell, saturated in streaky strains of ochreous hue. Warm shades of yellow and orange ripple and twine against a landscape of pallor, decadent in the extension of whorling strands, like thick fingers that delve and drown, cloaking ostentatious pretensions of canary-touched fervour. Viridescence, in hairline cracks that spread like striations of darkness, extends to match shuddering watchett, delineating the waxy varnish that layers egg's rounded form.

Lydiere considers, tilting her head to the side. "Maybe a blue. We need more blues. There haven't been nearly enough these past few clutches." Wishful thinking, then. Her eyes fall towards R'yn, and her lips twitch with absolute amusement at his appearance, and his words. "That's an awful shame, R'yn," is her teasing comment. "I'm sure it was /incredibly/ important business." The newest egg is also given a glance, with an appraising eye. "Very pale, that one."

The second egg rolls over itself several times - brilliantly pale against the darkness of the sands - until it comes to a rest within the sandy depression set aside for it.

Lymera rolls her eyes and sticks out her tounge at R'yn. "Poor R'yn. It was so important, too." Lips press together for a moment as she muses: "I wonder if I could try and convince the eggs to hatch at an equally inconvient moment? Say, Ysma, I think I've done something right for once!" Ysmalath snorts, before examing the pale egg. Not for long, however; she backs up, creating another hollow nearby. "I like that egg." Lymera decides, meanwhile, eyes still on the second egg. "Pretty, but modest."

Ysmalath grumbles.

Ysmalath grumbles, before doing her business again, tail flickering for a moment before muscles tense.

Fabulously Fruity Oversized Pineapple Egg
Streaks of tarnished gold and rich citrine swirl in a prickly dance of upheaval; pairings crowd the shell of the oversized egg as they twine together, becoming tantalizingly close, before cumulating in a point of sharp darkness. Each pairing has it.s own unique flavorings of colour, beautiful chaos subtly hidden within the reoccurring pattern of spikes; a hint of apricot and amber mingling at one small point; at another, lemon glints behind an ancient darkness. At the crown, a hint of chartreuse glimmers, the taint of life fanning in six sharp crescents to veiling the brightness to hug the egg, holding the bulging shell together with the hint of green hope.

Ymsmalath's third egg turns over once, settling deeper into the depression dug out for it, nestling there as though it would conceal itself from the world's view, hiding away until another time.

Lymera's brow wrinkles, as she gazes after the latest egg. "Was that gold?" She glances towards Lydiere and R'yn, gaze questioning. "I'm not sure —- was that gold? It was big, and shiney, it was gold, wasn't it?" Gaze returns to the eggs, hands moving to hips. "Ysma, was that gold?"

Lydiere opens her mouth to make another comment, but is immediately distracted by the newest egg. "Well! I'm not sure if I should be crowing with joy at having another gold to share the work around, or mourning the life of another girl who has to give up everything to share that work." It's a bittersweet comment, drawing a somewhat rueful expression from her face, head shaking quietly. "Yes, I think it was. Is."

R'yn snorts, attempting dignity in the face of gentle mockery, chin tilted up in some sort of moble martyrdom… until he catches a glimpse of Ysmalath's latest offering. "Zip?" His own lifemate only sired it, he didn't clutch it, and is apparently silent on the matter, for the weyrleader turns to Ysmalath. "It is, isn't it, Ysma?" There's no doubting the 'leader's pleasure at the idea, grin growing larger.

Ysmalath remains unmoving for a moment, before tail flickers and begins to wind around the egg to the accompniment of her lifemate's yelp of joy. "Yay! It is!" Lymera begins to do a little dance on the sands, tapping her feet and waving her hands in a rather undignified matter. Ysmalath moves away from the gold as the urge comes over her again.

Frosted Elegance Egg
Falling lightly from crown to base is a layer of alabaster stone, glistening ice and ivory smear along curves that seem long, rather than round. Shadows of warm garnet flicker along top, threatening to melt the snow that dusts this ovoid like icing sugar. Whisps, nay, rememberences of smoke twirl upwards, tendrils seeking escape of the blank colourless parchment that is the surface of this egg. Towards the summit glaring blue-white resides, the pastel azure barely noticable above pearled splendor. Glacial radiance is broken in three places by spheres of charcoal, three in number, that make a line from toe to crown. A final splash of colour graces the tip of this egg, though colour may not be the right word - a hat of sooty gloom sits astride the point.

Palid egg rolls slowly, elegantly, over the black sands of Ista, coming to a gentle halt not far from the newly emerged gold egg. Frost is bright in contrast to its background, and it seems to shiver slightly as it settles.

"I think I pity the candidate, more than celebrate the assistance," Lydiere decides finally, somewhat sullen, her arms crossed in front of her, feet shifting to avoid overheating from the hot sands beneath. "Another pale one. Fardles - I guess it must be the whole pale queen thing. Wonder if this queen will be as insipid as all the others."

Lymera grins, teeth showing as she glances at Lydiere. "I pity her, too, if she ends up with a mind like my darling angel —" Lymera coughs into her hand before continuing, "But selfish as I am, I think I rather like the extra help that'll come out of this. We're just going to have to make sure that she impresses to someone who likes being a slave." Oh yes, and how does Lymera plan to arrange that? Meanwhile, Ysmalath is at work again.

Deliquiated Ocean Egg
Dipping into cascading ripples, a neverending fabric of cobalt and azure delves across the watery perfection of this mottled egg, cerulean marvelling in dynamic desecration atop a backstrop of windswept cobalt. As if seaspray brushed atop the deepest of oceans, carolling rough waves about rounded sides, deep blues drip, brushing like a salted wave cresting towards a golden beach around far curves. Sapphire gleams as if lit by a fragile sun, darkened by shadows of stormy indigo like bobbing seaweed deep beneath, cogitating deep mysteries in cyan and aquamarine. A flash of colour - like a tropical fish - explodes, fading to nothing in the neverending wash of rich hue that embraces this egg's every surface.

Lydiere mms quietly, her head dipping into a half hesitant nod. "True. The more help we have, the less time we'll spend doing boring things, but…" She's distracted, and perhaps even a little hesitant, head shaking again. "Well. Ooh, a colourful egg for once. That's kind of pretty, I think."

R'yn is shifting from foot to foot quietly, shoes not entirely suitable to the sands - but then, he arrived in a hurry. Shaking one sandal to try and get the sand out of it, he's wincing a little as he replies. "Bright, isn't it? Zip's was bright. Suited his personality, I suppose. Noticable."

Lymera grins at R'yn, hands shoved into her pockets. "So, we'll blame you for the bright eggs, and Ysma for the pale eggs, right?" Lips quirk for a moment, eyesbrows lifting as she glances over at R'yn. "I'd say Ysma's personality is quite noticable, but she's as pallid as her dam was." Speak of the devil, Ysma crouches and gets ready to let one loose, so to speak.

Luxurious Lingerie Egg
An opalescent swathe of mother-of-pearl richly adorns the curve of this egg, nacreous luxury enfolding the life within. Ruffles of creamy lace seem to cascade elaborately down one side, ornamental oyster embellishing here and there. Frosty ivory frills counter this decoration, festooning the egg's top decoratively. The warp and weft of alabaster thread seems almost visible, stretched across the gently rounded surface, a lily-white haven for the new life within.

"Llysereth's was… gold. I suppose. I don't remember much about it - I really /didn't/ pay it any attention." Lydiere shuffles her feet again, glancing up into the galleries to smile at Llysah, safely in the nanny's arms. "And Llysereth is as pale as them all," she adds, "Though her personality is plenty noticeable, if in a different way." Her eyes catch the latest egg, and she considers it. "Uh. Hrm. That one is… festive? Or something like that."

The latest egg, all lace and frills, seems almost particular about its spot, rolling over once, twice, thrice, and finally settling slightly to one side in the depression dug out for it, just so.

Lymera bites her lip for a moment, before shaking her head. "No, I can't remember what her egg looked like either, but I guess it must have been gold, right?" Shoulder lifts slightly, before blinking. "Uh, Ysma? Are you meant to be pushing that hard?" Apparently so, because one egg pops out, only to be quickly followed by another one. "Two at once? Are you trying to rush it or something?"

Starlit Majesty Egg
Rolling waves of greyscale mist sweep across the bejeweled surface of this egg, spinning a spiderweb thin layer of pallour upon the brilliance of a caliginous landscape. Great formations, like tall buildings within a monumental hold, rest about the egg's perimeter, black and solid - touched with shimmers of silver like sharp metal, glowing from within by a light that never dims. As if a handful of stars has been tossed about the dark surface, glittering pinpricks of light bedeck the world, visible even through the layers of mist and rain that cover everything, forever adding a jeweled countenance to the busy, bustling world.
Erubescent Liquid Egg
A saturate coat of earthy claret bedecks subtly shaded rolling curves, subtle striations of deep maroon scintillating in their delicate ripples of colour upon this egg's fine shell, blazoned in the caliginous reds of the finest of wines. Ruby-like hues wash in merry abandon about narrow point; liquid shades dapple and delve, wallowing in faceted manifestations of redenned caress, sharply oaken in strands of warm burgundy reminiscent of a long, smooth claret, aged to perfection far beneath each blushing round of ovoid shape. Shadows of burgundy, darkened as if obscured by cork and bottle, stipple in lithe virulence against the lavish dapples of port that bury beneath the ripples of red whose presence whorl in graceful finesse to the egg's glossy form.

Ysmalath carefully prepares another spot, for one last egg — she's almost looking back to normal now, the bulge almost gone. She slouches, and muscles visibily ripple as the last egg settles into place.

Dappled Greens Egg
From one side it seems that this large egg is shrouded and wrapped in a fuzzy blanket to provide protection and warmth. Each hair on the blanket seems defined, each hair standing out in different directions. Circumnavigating the egg it becomes apparant that this rough shroud is not enough and has been roughly cut away revealing what has been hidden beneath. A sparkle of colour greets the viewer, a swirl of green dominates. The centre though is a soft pale yellow which curves out and darkens from a light emerald to a deep forest green at the edges which meet with the rough shroud. Speckled amongst the living green is dapples of black which are scattered without rhyme or reason.

Lydiere counts eggs, her head dipping into a nod. "It looks like a good clutch," she declares, with a smile, glancing over the latest eggs. "Is that the lot?"

Lymera glances at R'yn and Lydiere — "That's all, folks! I'm going to have to go and dance attendance…" — before skipping over the warm sands towards her lifemate, giving a certain large, bright egg a wide berth. Ysmalath waits patiently before being given the adoration she's been waiting for. Even if some of it is teasing, and not entirely serious.

R'yn nods, quicksilver gaze still scanning the eggs, checking over them one more time. "Very good clutch indeed, and a gold, too!" Judging by hs wide grin, the Weyrleader's well pleased. "I'll go find someone to send out out something cool, Ly. Zip'll stay here." And indeed, for the time being, the big bronze seems to show no intention other than settling at the edge of the sands, watchful eyes fixed whirlingly on those up in the galleries.

Lydiere retrieves Llysah from the galleries, giving the nanny a bright smile in thanks, noting back towards Lymera and R'yn, "I'm getting /off/ of here, before I fry my poor little feet, not to mention the rest of me. Besides which, now that she's not quite so distracted, Ysmalath might lynch me for being here, and I'd rather avoid that." She gives a somewhat quirky smile, as she steps towards the entrance, hopping to avoid the heat.

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