Miraneith x Ittisieth Clutching

Ista Weyr - Hatching Sands
The gently convex floor is hardly visible thanks to its filling of deep black sand, nonetheless forming a bowl in which a clutch of eggs can harden in safety and warmth. Heated by the thermal energy of the dormant volcano, the sands are always opressively hot - even through boots, the sand seers and bakes, small rushes of air from above and through from the bowl making little difference. A large outcropping of stone becomes an island within this sea of sand, the resting place of a queen who guards her clutch; a smaller platform of wood is set aside for the queen's rider.
Centuries of eggshells scatter the dark sands, broken down to but pieces of colour amid the darkness. A staircase rises towards the far end of the sands, almost out of view, whilst a small passage leads in the general direction of the weyrling barracks.

From the Sands, There's a first time for everything it seems, and with the accomplishment of her maiden flight many sevendays past, it's a waddling mustard-and-ivory queen that makes her way onto the dark Istan sands, her tail dragging a little more than usual with the extra bulk as the young queen scuttles and sways her egg-laden self forward. "Was eatin'!" comes the sound of a voice, Enka not far behind her gold before she makes a beeline for that wooden platform reserved for the riders. Apparently, she's come prepared, because she's carrying a tray of food — perhaps what was left of her dinner, and a skin or two of water slung off her shoulder. There's an amused snort from the gold, Miraneith's tone sounding gigglish and girlish before she scoots her plump body forwards towards the rear of the hatching ground, taloned forepaws already scratching away at a mound of black sand.

Hasha is parked on the bleachers, a little blanket draped along side her. At her feet is a basket, on the blanket is a plate, as yet empty. She's watching the galleries with intent of a marathon watcher.

Queen precedes Shory, seemingly insisting on making sure it's safe for the increasingly pregnant woman to make her way cautiously down the steps. After the green cheeps her assent, Shory takes each step one at a time until she reaches the bottom, managing to lean up against the railing to watch the clutching of the young gold as closely as possible.

With his recent trips to Ista to gather seedlings and plant samples, Tenebrous finds himself drawn to the celebratory drama that is Enka's clutch. Hood low over his face, he slips into the gallery itself, his two flits clinging to his shoulders. Close behind him is another healer. Galina's entrance is as blase as Tenebrous' is cautious. Cyanosis is half-wrapped around her shoulder, his upper body perched around her neck. Neither of them speak as they move through the crowd, finally fnding a place along one of the viewing walls to perch, two gargoyles trained in first aide.

From the Sands, Miraneith's paws scoop and move through sand, the dragon huffing softly as she sweeps her blunt-nose head over the ground, snorting her and there at the occasional egg shard which she scoots off to the side — clearing an area in which she settles herself, a small wallow dug out, and then a brief grunting whine is heard, the dragon's short neck swinging towards her rider. "Easy love," Enka's murmuring, hand extended towards the dragon. "You'll be all right, Mir, I just know y'will." She smiles reassuringly, pausing long enough to munch on something on her plate — could it possibly be a bubbly? — before she's watching the dragon, as Miraneith crouches, hissing and flaring her wings before the first of her clutch arrives — the very first egg she's ever laid — and lies there for a moment, before a sudden urge of maternal instinct tells the gold to wiggle it into the wallow, and begin to cover it with sand, hiding it after that brief glimpse — her secret to the world.

Holiday in Paradise Egg
Tropical hues dominate across a festive motif; the brilliant cerulean wreathing the upper portion of this egg is almost a match for the Istan sky itself, while sandy gold tones enfold the bottom hemisphere. Bright greenery winds and entwines around the edges, drawing the eye to the assortment of skin-toned peach, snowy white and bright red placed front and center atop the shell. Stare at it long enough, and a faint image seems to appear — that of a plump half-clad beared man wearing a red cap trimmed in white fur, clasping a somewhat oblong board of red and white in pudgy fingers.

Hasha makes the appropriate oooh sound as the first egg makes its appearance. She reaches into the hamper at her feet and pulls out a container which she sets alongside the plate. Looking up, she catches sight of a hooded figure and beams, lifting her hand and waving it frantically to capture his attention. Of course, what helps this is the fact that Sakai, Hasha's bronze, suddenly pops into sight a few feet in front of him and does a whirl about the healer's head. Paging Tenebrous!

Once seated, Galina spares only a brief glance askance to Tenebrous before those eyes are for the sands. Indifference colors her features, even as she pulls her nigh everpresent notebook out from under her arm and proceeds to write a few terse notes shortly after the laying of the first egg. She is otherwise an unmoving figure, even as Cyanosis abruptly starts to chatter up a storm to the bronze that makes his appearance known. For her part, the Healer's mouth merely presses into a flat(ter?) line than before.

Shorynia ooos quietly, making a quick note on the clip-board she'd carried in with her, noting approximate size and coloration before she spots Galina from the corner of her eye and turns to wave at the healer while Queen gives a welcoming chirp from then railing.

A small gaggle of Iernians is soon to join those in the galleries, while the smoke-dark bronze that brought them ascends to the ledges alone. M'gaal is among them, naturally, carrying a nearly two turn-old boy with him, and followed by a woman, a man, and two teenagers who are quick to claim spots near the front. "We're late!" the girl cries, only for the woman to shush her with, "/Fashionably/ late, Mahhu. Fashionably." The lot of them are soon situated near the front, conversing quietly amongst themselves.

Moyrel makes her way into the gallery, and picks her way through the crowd to find a seat, giving little waves to those whom she knows before she seats herself.

Ysa heard of the news that Miraneith had started clutch and by the looks of it she was likely out at the Saucy Wench trying to drink people under the table. The Weyrwoman wavers her way a bit here and there through the crowd, face a little flushed but doing her best to look as sober as possible, which isn't hard after turns of practice. "Move aside an' go find a seat already!" she snaps to a few young teens crowding her way as she tries to get to the front where she can get a perfect view of the clutching queen and the eggs she has laid, or eventually will lay. "Looking good, Enka!" she calls down to the sands loudly, grinning at the youngest queen in the Weyr, though her eyes are already glued to that one egg. Pretty… wasn't it?

Tenebrous leans in to Galina's ear, murmuring, "One of those…people I mentioned," gesturing to the bronze. He offers a brief gesture of welcome to the newly arrived Sakai, holding a wrist out to the bronze. "Not the patient I mentioned earlier, but a green rider non-the-less." He leans further in, lowering his voice a bit more before straightening and raising a free, gloved hand in Hasha's direction.

From the Sands, "Oh splendid!" Enka plunks herself down onto the chair set there on that platform, and applauds happily for her dragon. "First one, Mir, ya did it." Because the first is always the beginning, after all. And it does prove that the gold is not going to be one of those cursed with an issues of fertility. At least at this stage in the game. There's a whuffle from the mustard-and-ivory queen, her blunt-nosed head and short neck suddenly swinging in the direction of the galleries, head snapping around at the sound of Ysa's voice. "Yes," Enka's speaking soothingly to her dragon now, "they're watching you." Which cues a snort, and a shuffle as the youngest Istan queen tries to maneuver herself around to hide her clutch — but not before the second egg is visible, however briefly, before it too is tucked away into a private little wallow beneath the sand. "She 'aint her dam!" Enka cups her hands to holler up at her senior weyrwoman. "Bit more private her." Because yes, that's a difference between the two queens.

Party Foul Egg
Almost invisible at first against the sands of the hatching caverns, this egg is a subtle booze-brown. Well, at least at the top. The top is the deeper yellow-brown of good ale and as it drips and dribbles down through the otherwise white exterior it lightens until it fades completely to white, looking like an egg-shaped snowbank with ale spilled on its top. As if completing the odd tableau, a small scoop seems to be missing from near the top of the egg, as if someone scooped up boozy-snow to save the booze.

Galina inclines her head briefly, acknowledging, and murmurs back, "I see." Something else is said lower still, pale eyes briefly flicking to the man seated near her. Cyanosis continues his nonsense-speak, trilling a welcome to the bronze before taking wing to go and greet the others of his kind. The young woman, on the other hand, merely half-turns slightly — like as not taking a cue from Tenebrous — and lifts an hand in greeting to Hasha as well.

Shorynia doesn't even notice as she's ignored by Galina, comparing notes and quick sketches with Queen as the second egg is on the sands. Trying to capture the colors of eggs in grey graphite is harder than it might seem.

Ysa leans heavily on the railing in front instead of taking a seat, squinting her eyes at this second egg now to catch the brief glimpse of it. Dark, but still doesn't look like the gold laid something nasty on the sands. The Weyrwoman flicks some hair back from her face and her hand goes to her side where a pouch of marks is actually visible for once, one of the few times she might display it, likely with a hefty bet on the young gold's first clutch. "Not her dam at all!" she hollers back to Enka, though her eyes are on the mounds where the eggs disappeared to. She might likely mean by the non-ugly eggs. "It still seems that Ella is one of a kind. At least Miraneith will be a better clutchdam than she will ever be." She chuckles to herself turns to look out at the galleries for familiar faces and, even better, anyone carrying booze.

Hasha makes a face at the Party Foul egg. "Eww." she remarks in amusement, and then rises when Tenebrous draws close. She reaches out, snagging his coat and tugging him toward her for a brief kiss - the gesture is aggressive, but the contact is not excessive or inappropriate in display. It's rather quick, and then Hasha is sitting down, asking, "Do you want some roast herdbeast? It's very rare. She has a blue necklace draped across her throat - Puck's hiding in her hair. "Did you see that last egg?"

Tenebrous makes no move to halt Hasha's movements as she reels him in, smiling slightly from under his hood. "As a matter of fact, I hadn't seen the egg yet. Your most excellent Bronze was busy getting my attention after I spotted you." With a brief gesture of his shoulders, both Truth and Reconciliation take to the air, silent until they're some distance from him, per their training. But then they join the cacophany of the other flits in the area, swooping about with abandon. On the ground, Tenebrous turns slightly, sweeping a gloved hand towards Galina's person. "May I present a singular healer in training, tne Senior Apprentice Galina? She's somewhat new to the area, and I told her that I would introduce her to persons of exceptional quality." He glances back at Hasha. "I believe you qualify."

From the Sands, Miraneith pauses a moment, wings mantled around her little clutch of two — for the moment at least, as her sides still look plenty plump before she's rising again, stamping about in an impatient circle to settle herself behind the sand-covered egg mounds, which by all means indicate she'll be moving backwards at this point, and unfurling her overlarge wings to nose at her side, where even now, ripples of contractions shudder along the gold's hide, little ridges against her body. "No, she aint much for showin' off what she can do. Can't say that I'd blame her. Poppin' out eggs and all, right in public." Enka remarks loudly before she turns rather quiet, watching the gold. Sparing a sidelong glance towards her own stomach area, and then looking back up at the galleries, she's back to yelling, "They're all special, each an' every gold. But oh aye, she'll probably wanna keep things hidden. Like when she was a hatchling herself." There's a loud grunt from Miraneith, her rider turning in her seat to watch, and now there's two more eggs, tucked quickly beneath flaring golden wings, but not before one can see they aren't ugly. "Hope ya got a good bet goin', Ysa," Enka hollers upwards, grinning.

Summer Behind Bars Egg
The upper third of this egg is a clear crisp blue, dominated by a large yellow and white coloured circle, which seems to radiate heat. The lower third is a dusty red-brown, dry and parched, utterly lifeless, as far as the eye can see. The band around the middle? There's a slumped splodge of bright red and white there, and a discarded red sack on the ground, hidden behind a wall of shiny silver chain links. This wall is topped with a spiral of spiky metal, as if to prevent the splodgy red figure from escaping.
Merry Insanity Egg
Happy winter wonderland might have once been the first thoughts to come to the mind in this dominantly white egg. Yet there is nothing pleasant in the images displayed, with colors swirled around in a disastrous tornado and thrown back onto the shell in a fit of fury. Mayhem and carnage has littered the snowy landscape, red splotches, shapeless limps and possible entrails form something straight out of a horror scene scattered haphazardly along the bottom of the eggnothing jolly in here. Centered on one side is a cheery log cabin decked with merry reds and greens and topped in flames from the raging rampage that hit, creating a smoking halo that suffocates the apex.

Shorynia gives Ysa a jaunty wave then begins hastily taking notes on the two most recent additions to the sands, "what do you think, WeyrWoman? How many eggs did you bet on? I said 10."

The wave sent by Shorynia didn't go entirely unnoticed; it just takes Galina a moment to return it … which, in turn, means it's liable to be missed. For the moment, she's naught more than Tenebrous' pale shadow, ghosting along about two steps behind him and with her notebook folded to her chest. There's an owlish sort of blink for Hasha's greeting, no more or less unusual than the selfsame blink she might give to the latest pair of eggs to grace the sands. She is silent while he speaks … and then is silent after, evidently having nothing to add.

Once numbers start to be called out, the gaggle that came in earlier has their own to call. "/Twenty/," calls the older boy, countered with a "Twenty-one!" from his apparent sister. M'gaal just shakes his head, figuring, "Twelve, maybe. Maybe." "Oh, c'mon Mergie. It has to be at least fifteen. Look at her!" That'd be the older woman, laughing brightly.

"Then what are you doing introducing her to me?" Hasha teases, and says, "Well met, Galina. I'm green Tavissath's Hasha." Yeah, with a dragon like Tavissath, that's the way it works.

"Ella is all about being inconvenient. She'll pick the absolutely /worst/ time to clutch, and make sure everyone knows it." Ysa says right back down to Enka. Her voice isn't raised, but it is loud nonetheless that is likely due to the alcohol she drank prior to making her way to the hatching grounds. "At least your Miraneith is reasonable. Gives me reason to be drinking instead now!" Oh yeah, the Weyrwoman finally waved down that drudge with that wineskin, taking it from her so that she can make a toast down to the gravid queen and her rider. "And your queen is certainly… special." Ysa did not hide the fact that she thought Miraneith was special looking… Her green eyes finally turn away after getting a quick peek at the other two eggs, glancing in Shory's direction after noticing the wave. "Oh, a good bet indeed. Over ten, it /has/ to be, but Miraneith came from twelve so I gave her a good solid eleven as a first clutch. Though I've got an itch it is thirteen now. She /is/ a big gold. I can't recall just how round she was /before/ the flight now."

Tenebrous casually adds, "NOT…pregnant," in a droll tone to Galina. "That's something of worth note, I promise you." He glances back to Hasha with a hooded chuckle. "Unless you haven't told me something. May we sit? I was planning on warming that lovely patch of wall over there with the good healer, but you smell better than the wall."

From the Sands, Special indeed, in all her plump ungainly unique way. There's a faint rumble from Miraneith, the gold's wings suddenly tucked back against her side as she lowers her head, panting with exertion as she noses at the four sand-covered mounds about her. The queen whines softly, prompting her rider to hop off that platform and pick her way over the sands to brush a reassuring hand against the gold's cheek before she's moving forward, mincing along to bring herself closer to the galleries. "Point taken," she comments to the older Weyrwoman, grinning cheekily from ear to ear at the woman's words. "Least she's not demandin' everyone sit around and watch." a glance over her shoulder, even as Miraneith lets out a low growl of sound, depositing two more eggs together on the sands, and scooping sand about them. "She's more interested in hidin' them." There's a wave from Enka towards Shorynia, and then the junior is moving back towards the platform to settle herself in her chair.

One Flattened Granny Egg
Predominately a glistening, radiantly pure white, this egg looks a startling contrast to the night-dark sands upon which it lies. If snow had been transplanted from the High Reaches and molded into eggform, this would be it! But yet, an unsightly vision mars this pristine perfection — a grisly splash of bloody red across a vaguely person-shaped blob of brown and peach — crowned by a tuft of elderly-gray. And about this rather flattened figure — dark shapes, like cloven hoofprints of some overlarge goat or sheep are limned eerily about the edges by a dappling of crimson red.
Break the Spell Egg
Illicit winter evenings murmur across this egg, bolstering tones of hearth-burgundy and knit-blanket-emerald twisting through the spice of egg nog and rum. Warm golden carpets, plush and toasty in their close proximity to the fire, offset the subtle sienna of delectable hardwood floors. The only thing missing from the scene is- Ah, no, nevermind: there, coursing along one side, is a twist the color of mistletoe, a sutble implication of what could happen if one should linger here. Prussian blues, limned with swirls of white dust, characterize the vague glimpse of the world beyond this egg's heady shell. Why hurry away? C'mon baby, it's cold outside.

"Well met," is a delayed echo after Hasha's introduction with the slightest inclination of her head. To Tenebrous, there's only a flickered, sidelong look. "With the number of pregnancies at the Weyr, that is worth noting," would be Galina's unblinking, deadpan response. Until the seating situation is situated, she remains as she is, with only her peripheral attention given to the happenings on the sands.

Shorynia grins at Ysa, starting her next round of rough sketches and color notes, "I thought ten was a good round number… that and eleven was already taken." She smirks broadly, then pokes Queen for the green's opinion on her sketches while she continues, "I'm sure Miraneith will lay Ista many good clutches. She's a good strong queen and a testament to her mother. I'm sure Ellamariseth's proud of her.

Hasha looks between the two. She offers conversationally, "I'm uhh…not as active as some women, and I go *between* a lot. I reckon my chances of carrying a child to term are pretty slim." It's not offered with any inference of pitiance, it's just a fact of life, and one of clinical observation that could be of interest to a pair of Healers. "Please do join me. Are either of you hungry? I had this crave for roast herdbeast. I've got a wine skin, too, and extra glasses." She begins pulling them out, and forking out more juicy beef as well. As the Break the Spell Egg comes out, she lets out applause. "Look at that one! Gorgeous."

Tenebrous allows his eyes to flicker over the sands from time to time, but at the mention of wine, he shudders. "You'll have to forgive me, but Thea pretty much permanantly turned me off of…" His voice trails off for a moment as something registers to him and then he shakes his head slowly. "Sorry, I'm…" He glances up at Hasha. "You were…food. You were offering me food. That would be nice, thank you. No wine, but I've a bit of water with me in my satchel."

Ysa arches a brow at Shorynia now. "Ya just would have lowered my winnings if ya decided on eleven as well." The Weyrwoman sure does sound confident, and slightly drunk as well. The entire time she's been purposefully ignoring Shorynia's bulge of a belly, taking a swig of her wine skin as she turns back to look at the sands. "The numbers are certainly going well for both of us for now. Oh shells, look at that last one! Did ya see?" She heaves a nice big sigh, perhaps a little envious as she bobs her head once. Twice. And then rests her chin in her free hand, elbow on the railing. "Miraneith's got genetics, nonetheless. Of course she'll give Ista fine clutches." She chuckles down to Enka, waggling that wineskin at the queen now. "Better not have that attitude the entire way through! Candidates have to go out and touch and they have to be unconvered eventually to see those pretty shells!"

Galina's reaction to the offer of wine isn't quite so dramatic, but there is a particular pull to her mouth that suggests strong distaste. "Understandable," is intoned for Tenebrous' sake, though her response to Hasha comes a full beat later after she slants a look to the sands. "I do not need either, but the offer is appreciated." She moves to take her seat, notebook coming right back out as soon as she's seated to allow her to take a few delayed notes.

"Of course. It's fingers and belt knives, though, for eating." Hasha pours herself a little wine, and seems quite conservative about her intake, plucking up some meat and popping it in her mouth while she watches the Sands. "It looks like an excellent clutch."

Shorynia chuckles, "But it's no fun betting the same as someone else." Her eyes turn back to the sands with a quiet "ooo" before she adds, "That egg looks like home and hearth. I envy the candidate that falls in love with it." Her eyes follow Ysa's wineskin with thinly veiled interest, "I envy you the ability to drink. Haven't had wine in /months/. This kid better be worth it." She grins, putting a final touch on the last egg-sketch, then bursts into laughter at Ysa's lecture to Miraneith.

Tenebrous indulges in a few bits of meat as the spectacle carries on, washing each down with a bit of water. "Have you been well?" he asks quietly. "I'm sorry that I haven't been able to come and see you more often than I have. With the change of the seasons, there's a great deal of work to be done back at Stormhaven, and in the Deeps. And in another few months, it'll be summer, and someone has to stand up in front of everyone at Xanadu and remind them that, in fact, flaming practice during a drought is…less than intelligent."

From the Sands, "I'm hopin' she isn't gonna be the protective sort," Enka calls up towards the galleries, quirking her lips into a droll little smile as she slips the strap of that waterskin off her shoulder and takes a pull at it. "It might take some work to convince her to uncover 'em, but I'm sure she'd do it." There's a sudden snort from Miraneith, the gold fixing her rider with such an incredulous stare that it's enough to make the young woman giggle, before the queen's head swings up towards the galleries, her unblinking stare fixed unwaveringly upon the rider of her dam. "Lots of nice lookin' eggs," Enka remarks casually, no, of course she's not referring to Ellamariseth's latest clutch — honest! "Mir, stop lookin' at the Weyrwoman like you wanna eat her." There's another snort from the gold, and shuffling a few more feet to the side, she curls her plump fat tail around, and settles to the sands, contractions rippling along her sides before a single egg graces the black grains- displayed for a moment, and then buried away in secrecy.

Ominously Flickering Lights Egg
This egg is a rather dark one, charcoal verging on black without much in the way of attractive gloss or innate shine. No, that particular quirk is reserved for the highly unusual markings upon the surface of a side, a series of scintillating white points shaping out a crude approximation of eyes and a crescent-moon mouth. Red and green dots form triangles off to the right, a green square outlined to the left. On the other side of the egg, this pattern appears to be repeated, except that the odd crescent of its mouth is shaped in a round, hungry 'O'. When light skitters across the surface of the egg, those brighter points seem to wink and glitter, like so many lights.

The manifestation of Redwort seems to be entirely related to the presence of bloody meat. His red-brown self descends to Galina's shoulder, tail curling tightly around her neck as if the claws in her shoulder isn't indication enough of his presence. There's a low hiss from him, prompting her to shut the book and set her mouth into a terse line. She waits until Tenebrous is done speaking before inserting a low and somewhat flat, "I would like a piece to satiate this one, if I may?"

Hasha reaches out and briefly squeezes Tenebrous' hand. "It's alright." she tells him, and then grins at Redwort. "Help yourself." she tells Galina, and her blue decides to come out of her hair and launch into the air to join his sire and the other firelizards.

Ysa turns to at Shorynia and, finally, gives her belly a pointed /look/. "If ya envied me ya wouldn't have stuck yourself with that, ya know. Can't drink until it's out, you think? If you're feeding the thing than ya still can't drink. No wine, limited klah, no :between:, sometimes unable to leave your bed, and then the /crying/." Every single word comes out like the Weyrwoman is reliving a nightmare, giving a good shudder or three. "Best advice I can give ya is to get rid of it after it's born. Believe me, after going through /that/ three times, that was the best thing I could have ever done." She smirks and then gulps greedily at her skin, giving Shory a wink. Drunk children-hating Weyrwoman, hurray! When she looks back to the sands it's only to meet Miraneith's stare, giving her a long solid look as well before a laugh bubbles out of her. "I certainly hope ya don't want to eat me. Now that's more like Ella there, eats anything to try it once. Like it or not, Enka, we're going to have to convince her to do so. Would rather not have maulings even if the blood is well hidden on Ista's black sands." She might say that a little /too/ loud, perhaps to help frighten candidate-potentials around.

Shorynia takes Ysa's sudden outburst in stride with a gentle smile, "I'm hoping to rely on the nannies for help with the child's care, of course. I've managed to stay active well enough, surprisingly, but by the time I knew it was too late to abort… and I wouldn't have, it being Chaton's, and all." There's the slightest of quiet sighs before the next set of egg notes is begun and Queen gives an approving cheep for its predecessors.

Tenebrous is still at that point as Galina calls a bit of attention to herself. He leans back a little, giving her pointed access to as much meat as she needs. Even as she works, Tenebrous allows his eyes to range out over the sands, tracing the lines of each egg in turn. "And they'll each have a voice," he murmurs to himself. "They'll each have a voice, and a mind, and some hidden truth in them that no one's ready for…"

From the Sands, The young gold drops her head, nosing in among the sandy mounds about her — seven in all — before her short neck lifts, unwavering gaze set once more upon Ysa as the woman speaks to her. There's a faint sound, like a giggle in a way that a dragon can make it, a sudden dreamy smirk crossing draconic features as the mustard-and-vory queen flares her wings, tucking herself down about her little egg-mounds, and creeling sharply, neck extended, and teeth bared. Enka half-rises from her chair, glancing up at the galleries and opening her mouth as if to speak. But before she can, two more eggs are visible, slithering out of — well, there there are anyway. Her look of concern turns to glee, the girl grinning. "Oh yeah, gonna have to. Can't have her chewin' on the candidates, now, can we? Only so many of /those/ to go around. There's a pause, as her hand darts out, index finger pointing out each of the now, nine mounds. "That's nine, and she aint stoppin' yet."

Window to the Soul Egg
Three deep brown lines bisect this egg, two running from tip to base in full circumference at equal spacing seeming to perfectly quarter the egg's surface. The third runs perfectly perpendicular to the other two and along the center equator of the egg, cutting it into perfect eighths. Flowing continually from one pane to another are swirls of blue and white, like a storm of wind and snow. Tiny flecks of red, gold, and green are littered throughout, like dust in the wind.
Dream So Intense Egg
Pale iceberg crystals crack and fluster across the surface of this frigid ovoid, cold and glittering with a thousand refractions of some unseen light. An amber glow, spectral and small, peeks tentatively through a whorl of muffled snowflakes in quick glimpses, omnipresent and steady, but predominantly hidden… except when the egg is tilted at the perfect angle. Then, like a haunting voice calling through the storm, everything about the egg lights up: a prism of candlelight engulfs the entire shell in the secretive, boisterous embers of a child's heart on even the most lost and foreboding of Christmas Eves.

"It is appreciated," Galina intones, reaching across just as necessary to take up two bits of meat and tear them down into slightly smaller pieces with her fingers. These are offered up on bare fingertips to the brown 'lizard, who is none-too-gentle about taking each as they're offered. Of course, she leans slightly as if to try to keep away — futilely, of course — from the voracious thing on her shoulder, which all but requires her to rest a shoulder against Tenebrous in the process. To him, there's a low-murmured something, all but inaudible amid the rest of the conversation in the galleries.

Hasha can't help but grin at Tenebrous. "You're fascinated by them, admit it. The entire process of how they come into being and what makes them who they are." She oh's at the newest arrivals. The beauty, or lack thereof, of eggs never fails to fascinate her. "I wish I'd thought to keep pieces of Tavissath's shell, but it's not something you think about when you've just Impressed."

"Might as well foster," Ysa says with a shrug, not too concerned by the baby conversation by then when there were more important things to dicuss, like baby dragons and how they were going to fill her marks pouch. She eyes the young clutchdam, giving her a toothy grin and a wink. "Oh, you can be protective, no worries. So long as it's a responsible protectiveness. She's young, still!" This last is said down towards Enka with a chuckle before she returns to her wine, eyes looking at the next two eggs. "They certainly are very pretty things." She heaves a sigh, shoulders drooping momentarily at the large difference from her own queen's last clutch. "Here it is, Shorynia. Ten or Eleven. If she keeps laying more than we're both out of luck." And she quiets down, holding her breath as she waits for the next eggs to be laid.

"Quite the contrary," Tenebrous murmurs absently. "The process involved with the conception and construction of those eggs is documented down to the last cell. It's physics and biology, mysteries that have both been solved since long before the Pings thought to dabble in Godhood with our draconic allies." He shakes his head a little. "If anything…I'm grateful, looking at them." He shifts a little before finishing, "They're someone else's problem."

Shorynia grins, "I'll probably foster at a turn or two, depending on how the baby does developmentally. Probably not long after I wean." Then she turns her attention back to baby eggs, "Just one more, Miraneith, just the one and I'll make some marks. And they are beautiful. Amazing, even."

"The Impression process is the only unknown quantity," Galina intones, though her voice is muted enough that she might well be talking to herself. "Even firelizards have some species of logic involved in who they choose." A glance is given to Redwort. "Even if that logic is highly questionable." No more meat is left for the beast and he's quick to depart after, leaving the Healer to absently suck the blood from her fingers while regarding the eggs with an impassive blink.

From the Sands, Miraneith huffs, the gold curling her fat tail over her haunches, and stretching her forepaws out, protectively so as if to gather her shell-encased offspring into a maternal embrace. Either that, or she's just squeezing them. No, not really. There's a pause, the queen clearing taking some breather time as air whooshes in and out of her nostrils, wings fluttering with each breath. "Course she is," Enka nods, taking another gulp of water as she turns her gaze towards her dragon. "First clutch and all. How was Ellamariseth?" Because first clutches are … well, the beginning of everything. Only as that moment passes, and another contraction ripples the hide of the young queen, does Miraneith squirm and scoot about, paws digging at the dark sand to create two more wallows, into which two eggs are deposited, one at a time, and then carefully covered up with sand. "Eleven!" Enka reports triumphantly, her gray eyes glittering with glee as she turns a careful scrutiny on Miraneith. "That all?" Because the gold is resting again, panting with the effort of her laying.

Where Others Cannot Tread Egg
It is a tranquil, nigh idyllic egg, a placid construct that could just as easily depict any of the more temperate lands of Pern. Broad strokes of lush green and sky blue sweep horizontally across it — green below, blue above, and with fractured bits of gray lending a sense of treachery to the slow-rolling hills thereon. From a distance, it even seems to be a bit hazy, as if some gentle mist has been set to roam in those selfsame hills and valleys. It's only when one moves close and looks at the top that they'll spot it: a curious blot of red, the size of a man's thumb, that could be an oddly-clad trader, traveling with what might well be his trusty burdenbeast in bold, bold brown and laden with brightly colored packages.
Innocently Smiling Egg
One whole side of this egg is a disturbing shade of pinkish-tawny, a fleshy tone freckled with bits of brown. Only on the other side, the one laid out for others to fully see, is this single, smooth coloration broken — only to be broken in a way that might just be all the more unsettling. Salmon pink crescents, like the colossal and misplaced lips of a giant, are placed to appear as if it were a broadly smiling mouth, with glossy white filling the void between like so many teeth. Only at the middle, where two incisors would normally be, does this pattern abruptly cease: white gives way to a darker pink, like a terrible tongue exposed in the gap between. This egg is an enigma, wants and desires hidden behind that constant, hungry smile.

Hasha looks a little lost on the concept of Godhood, and eyes the two medical folk next to her with a bit of faint confusion. "I suppose that's so." she says to Galina, but it's clear she does not Get It. Tenebrous' suggestion that they're someone else's problem gets him a wry grin, and Hasha asks Galina almost shyly, "How is it questionable logic?" It's pretty clear the greenrider's a little intimidated by Galina's intelligence.

Tenebrous jerks an absent thumb over at Galina. "Her fire lizard is cranky. Very, very cranky." A pause. "The question of logic comes into play when one considers the nature of impression, of the bond that normally occurs between a draconic entity and its human counterpart. Her fine brown flit is somewhat…" He smiles a little. "…cranky."

Galina peers at her fingers with an irritated pull to one corner of her mouth. Blood gone, it's clear Redwort was a bit bite-happy with the fingers of that hand as much as with the meat. The hand is cradled in the other, her head tilting slightly to Hasha with a blandly noted, "In the case of firelizards, they do not choose based upon any compatibility beyond who can offer it food first, even if that food is from its kin. Selection is effectively random. Straightforward, but questionable." There's a slight pause, then: "Redwort is one that should have gone wild, but did not, based on temperament alone." Her mouth distorts, conflicted between two expressions and, ultimately, yielding to neither; indifference remains the victor. With a shallow nod to Tenebrous, "Cranky is one way of describing him. A very charitable way of describing him."

Hasha grins a touch. "I don't see where it's questionable. I mean, you're right - they go to the food that they sense." She pauses to eye the eggs. "Goodness, look at those eggs she just plopped out!" Maybe 'plopped' is not the best word, Hasha! Popping some meat into her mouth she says, "If anything I suppose I could the argument for illogical selection on the Sands. In so far as who Impresses. No one knows why this one and not that one. If there's some secret to one's makeup or character. Whatever happens, happens. And sometimes what doesn't happen once, may happen another time."

Tenebrous ahhs quietly. "But you see, the dragons know exactly why they choose who they do. It has been my experience that the bond between dragon and rider is far more sophisticated…and far more appropriate. You and your fine dragon are a perfect example of a hatchling's ability to pick not just a suitable mate…but a perfect one. And could you honestly say that Tavissath isn't the perfect lifemate for you, Hasha? Is there any doubt in your mind that there might have been…a better choice?"

Ysa plays with her wine skin as she watches Miraneith fondly, even if it wasn't her own lifemate or even a dragon she has called pretty in the past. That maternal look that was very unlike her own lifemate still put a grin on the Weyrwoman's face. Her attention turns back to Enka, shaking her head sadly. "Six eggs," she announces with a disappointed sigh, almost ashamed to say it. "Ella was caught by a brown her first time, and several times after that too. I think she's finally been caught by a bronze more than a brown, and sometimes I worry she has a /preference/ towards browns." She glances towards the bowl and then takes another big gulp of wine. "But she's had several good clutches, nonetheless." She holds her breath at the announcement and grins, but she won't start counting her marks just yet. "/Amazing/ clutch, Miraneith! And thanks for the marks if that really is just it." She shakes her skin, empty now. "I'll leave the two of ya now to your rest. If she does lay anymore… well, then, still good for her." For now she needs to go seek out some more booze, giving Shorynia a wink and a wave as she heads out.

Shorynia chuckles, making a few last notes on the eggs before Miraneith can bury them all, "I don't see how that's a bad thing. If a brown can catch her, he deserves to sire, don't you think? I'm sure her last clutch just means all the more bronzes in the next. Ellamariseth's still young and vital. One clutch of… unique chromatics doesn't mean anything." She waves again as Ysa takes her leave, then goes back to her sketches.

There's a nod for Tenebrous' words, with Galina adding only, "The dragons have an unknown criteria that must be fulfilled, so that is what they seek. Firelizards are predictable in so far as they have a single criteria, but their ultimate choice is random, regardless of compatibility. Both are, from the outside, questionable." She lapses into silence after, her attention inexorably drawn to the sands to do a quick count of the eggs and take any mental notes to be transcribed later.

From the Sands, "No shame in bein' caught by a brown," Enka's yelling up at the Weyrwoman in the galleries again. "My da rides brown," she tilts her head thoughtfully. "And with ya bein' from Telgar and all, y'never know, Baranath coulda been one of her chasers." Which would be kind of awkward in a weird way, but it's not something anyone would have to dwell on. "That's the funny thing 'bout them flights," she grins, "dragons choose." There's that adage again, she's still clinging to it as stubbornly as a dray beast to a fingerroot. There's a pause, the young goldrider glancing at Miraneith who's now settling herself about the egg mounds, taking a long rest, as it were. "'Sides, she had the bestest clutch ever!" Enka can't help but sound supportive at that. "B'cause she laid Mir," And that makes it good indeed. There's another glance at the dragon. "I think she's done." Because now, she's snoozing. But don't let that silent slumber fool anyone — Miraneith can snap awake at a moment's notice.

Hasha murmurs a greeting to the Weyrwoman as she goes by, and considers as she watches the clutch, "Tavissath is the exact opposite of me, but I can't imagine life without her." She calls out, "Well done, Miraneith! Well done, Enka!"

Ysa pauses to glance over her shoulder at Enka, perhaps it being the brown's name that caught her attention, but all the Weyrwoman gives is a raised brow and a wicked looking grin. "No, you're right, nothing wrong with browns. Though I much prefer if Ellamariseth stays away from them for a good long while now. And Miraneith. Good strong healthy clutches." Perhaps the Weyrwoman is looking for another shiny egg? She gives the mounds of sand one last look before nodding her head to her Junior and then to Shorynia again. "Let's hope. For now, I think I got marks to collect!" With a cheer the Weyrwoman disappears into the crowd and down the stairs towards the bowl.

Tenebrous glances out over the sands once more as Hasha cheers, but he offers a simple nod, in respect to the scene itself. Then, apparantly satisfied with something, he stands. "You two ladies will excuse me, I hope, but now that the occasion has passed, there are things I need to attend to. There are…less cautious greenriders that require my tea, if not my attention."

Hasha nods. "Of course. Let me know before you have to leave? Or if you're not in a hurry. We can spend some time." With that, she doesn't seem inclined to keep Tenebrous from his duties.

From the Sands, Miraneith is too deeply asleep to accept any accolades from the galleries, but Enka's waving and smiling, and carrying on with rather unashamed cheer. Hasha's shout is welcomed with a cheery wave, as the goldrider pops out of her chair, and takes another hearty swig of the waterskin before she's gingerly mincing her way along over the dark sands, giving gold and egg mounds a wide berth. "Thanks!" she hollers back, grinning fairly broadly. "I'm gonna go get somethin' to eat though, and more water. Cause all this time out is gonna shrivel me up like a dried grape if I don't keep drinkin' the liquids." And by that, she means something she /can/ drink rather than something she can't. Condition and all. There's a backward glance, the girl watching her dragon for a moment, and smiling wryly, and then she's moving off towards the foyer and the entrance in search of her afore-mentioned desires.

Galina inclines her head to Tenebrous with a muted, "Do as you must," and she might well seem contented to remain seated if not for the untimely arrival of a familiar — if only to her — green 'lizard bearing a message. The note is read, folded, and tucked into her notebook with a rather dull "Of course." A bit louder, if slightly less flat, is a "Thank you," for Hasha. She's soon in motion and on her way out, her pace measured, but quick.

Tenebrous watches Galina's departure as he further gathers himself up before turning to look back at Hasha. "I should have a bit of time before I leave, yes…" He reaches a hand out at that point to rest on the side of Hasha's shoulder. "I'll be sure to look you up. Keep Sakai near you until tomorrow evening, if it's not too much trouble?"

Hasha smiles up at Tenebrous. "I can do that. Maybe send yours to play with mine? That'll keep them entertained and out of the way."

Tenebrous smiles slightly. "Hasha, I strongly believe that if I sent my children to play with yours, at least one of them would come back with just as many eggs on deck as those on the sand right now. And I'm afraid I've a bit too much to do to handle a gaggle of flits as well." His smile widens a bit. "I'll be sure to send her out for a playdate. I promise."

Hasha grins. "As you like. Find me before you leave." And with that, she returns to contemplating the eggs.

Tenebrous gives that shoulder a squeeze before he, too, ghosts out.

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