Ista Weyr - Candidate Barracks
Rows and rows of cots fill the length of this room, which is far too big for the amount of candidates that Ista commonly hosts - it's a remnant from turns gone by, when space for up to eighty candidates was necessary. The cots have been pulled further apart, many discarded, which means that there is plenty of room between each of them for a press and even a small table, although it's still not the most spacious of areas - there are far more cots than could ever be needed. Boys and girls have been mostly separated, with a curtain able to be slung down between the two sections, although there's still something of a communal sense between them.
A tunnel, kept firmly covered by a great door, leads deep into the bowels of the weyr; it's a long walk to the end, wherever it goes, and glow lamps are required for any who head that way. The barracks themselves are well-lit with glowbaskets kept filled, as yet another chore for the candidates who reside here. Upon one of the walls, a brilliant mural has been painted, depicting a queen and her mate, and a clutch of eleven eggs (+view mural).
Since returning from their Island adventure, the candidates have been kept close in case the eggs decided to hatch. Days have passsed, meals have been eaten and night slept without incident. Lunch this bright sunny day has come and gone, a full hour passed before the dragons begin to hum. And hum they do. The call goes out over the weyr, that it's finally time. Candidates are to return to the barracks if they aren't already there, and put on their robes and sandels. Post haste.
Geiryna has been sticking close to the barracks, at least as much as attending harper lessons for the day has allowed. It's at the very end of her noontime break that the humming of the dragons sends her scurrying homewards, relatively clean except for the soup stain on her shirt, splashed in haste - but that's of little consequence. Diving for the robe tucked safely beneath her pillow, the girl takes a double-glance down the two rows of cots before ducking down to change. Shuffling awkwardly into the rough garment while trying to keep her modesty, she peers over the top of her cot to watch for the others.
Kershaw comes striding into the barracks answering the call for all candidates to return here, he heads to his bunk and searches for the robe he will wear onto the sands as well as the sandals. He looks around at the others doing the same as he is, disrobing quickly he slips the robe over his head and cinches it around his waist with a simple rope belt then puts on the sandals making sure they are secure on his feet.
Rousseaux was in the baths, scrubbing herself down after scrubbing down dragons, when the humming began. It startled her at first as she'd never heard it before, and it took an old auntie folding towels by the side for her to realise what was going on. "Oh Faranth, that'd be me then!" Wrapped in nothing but a long, thick towel she sprinted on bare, wet feet through the innards of the Weyr and into the barracks, arriving by her cot in far less time than she'd thought possible. From there, it was only moments more before she had her robe and sandals on, sodden wet hair tangled into a quick braid.
Aliona's main problem is that Teddy is being… well… Teddy. Ever since he hatched he developed a habit of flopping down in inconvenient places to sleep and at the moment that would be her robe. Fat though he is the little brown is incredibly good at becoming limp and protesting every attempt to move him. Eventually he's rolled away to safety and her robe can finally be put on despite the protests at her stealing his bed.
Sergius wasn't napping, honest. He was just… testing out that new pillow. Or something. The pair of little firelizards are shushed, and then as the commotion grows, Sergius is finally giving up and paying attention to the cause. As it suddenly sinks in, he's scrambling for his robe, hurriedly changing and tossing a shirt over his 'lizards to keep them quiet and in place.
D'len does come in with the stream of candidates, soothing frayed nerves as the impact of what is about to happen settles in on some folks. "Keep calm, get your robes on, and your sandels. Don't trip over one another." he calls back to some girls set into panic mode back there. "As soon as your ready line up at the door here in front of me in pairs. When everyone is ready we'll head out to the sands." He sees to a small girl from Eastern, helping her get her stuck robe down over the rest of her before sending her off for footware. "Now remember folks, when we get in there, everyone is to bow to the dame and the sire, no exceptions. Once you've done this, go head and form a circle around the eggs. No yelling or unnecessary ruckus on the sands. Anyone causing a distrubtion or scaring the hatchlings will be removed from the sands. We don't want to be upsetting Nziekilth again." His jade eye hones in on Darma, "Do we?"
Rousseaux does as she's told, and falls into the line that's forming by creating a new row of her own. She's nervous, yes, but she's been told what to expect by her brother - who will be watching her from the galleries. That thought is comforting for her as she stands there, clutching at her forearm across her chest, bobbing up and down on her toes out of nervousness.
Kaldrozen looks around from on top of his cot, quickly getting dressed and lining up next to the door quietly.
Darma has been here for the past hour since lunch. Having a restday has it's perks and this particular perk is a nap. Well, it would be a perk if she could actually sleep! But she's restless and the humming, not to mention all the scrambling hubbub interrupts the attempt and she sits up, sweeping her tousled hair from her face to blink owlishly at the room. She's slow to reach for the down kept handy at the foot of her bed, reluctantly donning it and slipping bare feet into the waiting sandals. She pauses mid-search of her press drawer to peer over her shoulder when D'len singles her out. With a little gulp, the teen answers, "Absolutely not, Sir!"
Sergius is headed for the line even as he's giving a final wiggle of his feet into his sandals, and he was pretty sure he was home clear… That is until the younger girl Pieriena is wiggling her way behind him and he's frantically looking for someone, anyone, to keep from being stuck next to her. Aliona! He tries to catch her attention, even as he takes slow breathes and talks to himself, "Keep it together.." He murmurs softly.
Time. Sometimes, it seems like there is an excess of that particular concept - and others, that it is in too short supply. Qisanti should have been prepared; certainly, she's had her fair share of seeing the bustle from the other side, watching her friends and siblings scramble like ferrets to prepare themselves for that moment of truth. But she is caught unawares when the time is upon them, and left gaping as other Candidates spring to action. Belatedly, she tumbles from her cot, shoving open her press to draw out her robe - a simple, but well-tailored affair, one she had made, rather than fumbling with herself. With no regard for modesty - as she herself has none, she strips from her current clothing, pulling on the robe and patting it into place. The three - three! - hatchling firelizards who seem to have adopted her squeel their confusion, only to be hushed and sternly told to remain on the cot. Once certain they will remain behind, the harper-Candidate takes her place in line with the others, swallowing nervously.
Geiryna is one of the frazzled, running her hands over her hair and quieting the firelizard who has begun to pick up on her anxieties, hushing him momentarily in her arms like a living security blanket. It's with reluctance that she sets Prowl back down, forcing her chin up as she joins the line of white-robed figures.
Kershaw stands up and straightens his robe as much as possible, tugging it down a bit he moves towards the door standing next to another candidate waiting for D'len's instructions to head onto the sands.
Aliona moves over to get into the line, vaguely waving at Sergius as she goes. Despite an attempt to look as calm as possible, the fact she keeps tucking her hair behind her ear shows that there's definitely some nerves slipping in now.
Public Announcement from Ixie: The time is upon up! The very foundation of Ista Weyr is vibrating with the force of the dragons hum! The eleven eggs of Nziekilth and Ittisieth are set to hatch! Come one, come all, to Ista Weyr Hatching Galleries to watch the event. Simply +go ISW, then NE, then W to get there!
Darma makes her way towards that line while fumbling at pulling her hair back into a runnertail. The end result is a careless one, but she has her mind on other things. She takes her place quietly enough.
D'len sees that everyone is lined up, staring down a few scraggers before he turns briskly in place, "Head out."
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.
Where once there was silence and calm there now is the deep and throbbing hum of dragon voices, none louder upon the sands than Nziekilth's as she looms behind the eggs, massive wings partly flared, eyes whirling crimson and orange. The gold rrrruuummbles low and loud, head close to the sands to EYE the shaking eggs. And do they ever shake. And the very stones of the weyr shake with the sound of the dragons, only increasing as more arrive to watch upon the high ledges. The galleries, too, are filling with weyrfolk and visitors, and more than a few dragonhealers are lurking off to the side by the cavern's entrance. Just in case. And on the stone platform, Cenlia has parked herself, with a good amount of brandy and a look on her face that says 'Thank Faranth, it's almost over.' Only, y'know, not nearly so eloquent. And she has a shovel. WHY does she have a shovel? Probably better not to ask, /really/. At least she's dressed this time, plain pants, loose shirt, all in beige. Fancy knot. "Settle down ya shardin' lump," is muttered over at Nziekilth, but the gold, as usual, ignores her rider. Watching the eggs.
Sure, there are other eggs doing that shimmying and shaking thing. That's all the pre-party. Luckily, Butcher Knives And Brights Egg is a pre-partier as well. Gentle vibrations run up and down the shell, sending shivers through the egg. Small little cracks start to appear, barely visible, all over the outside.
Siarief steps out onto the sands with the other candidates. She pauses to bow to the clutch parents before continuing on to join the growing line of white that stands before the clutch. She offers a tentative smile to those on her left and right before turning her eyes towards the moving eggs.
Aliona wanders out onto the sands, bowing to dragons and riders present before moving to take her place in the semi-circle of white. The trader girl makes a point of turning so that she's mostly back on to the galleries, deliberately trying to block out any potential sight of family or friends that would make her nervousness grow even more.
Kershaw pauses a moment and bows to the Dame and Sire before heading off with the other candidates to form a circle around the eggs on the sands, he watches as more of the candidates enter the sands and makes room for those that followed him as the 'circle' starts to expand with each new arrival.
Kaldrozen makes his way slowly out onto the sand bowing before the dam and sire before. He shifts slowly from foot to foot as he looks slowly, nervously about. His eyes slip from the eggs to glance up at the stand for a moment before looking back to his fellows, taking his place among them to finish the long wait, eyes not focused completely to the eggs before them.
Rousseaux, as she steps out onto the Sands alongside her peers, can't help but be nervous. She holds her hands clasped together in front of her as she follows suit and bows to the clutch parents, dipping down twice in front of Nziekilth - y'know, just in case she didn't go low enough earlier, because the massive gold is scary. And then she's moving off with the others to stand with them around the eggs, honey-hued eyes searching the galleries to try and spot her brother or his lifemate for a little bit of extra encouragement.
Still prepping, still getting ready. Butcher Knives And Brights Egg's shivers have gotten more extreme. Those spiderweb are more prominent, now showing clearly on the shell's surface. Straining against the being within, ready to crumble at any given moment. A breath is taken, two. Those vibrations continue, the trembling ramping more and more. Chips of the shell start to fall free, showing flashes of a hide.
Siarief shifts from foot to foot, shaking out the grains of sand that cling to her toes. Sweaty hands are rubbed on the sides of her robes, trying to dry them off but it seems that no matter what she does they don't become fully dry.
It is no exciting thing, the movement from The All-Seeing Hand Egg. It is simply a twitch, one that happens at times in the hands, a twitch of the finger that simply cant be controlled. And after awhile, movement ceases and all is well.
Evils of the Past Egg shivers slightly in it's hollow, the barest of movements, but moving all the same. A pause and then a much more visible shake and the whole egg almost seems to vibrate before falling still once more. Not yet, not yet. The timing is all wrong.
Sergius is amongst the candidates that begin to appear on the sands, the young man brushing at his robe for a moment, nervously as he approaches the eggs and their watchful guardians. A bow is sketched, and he gulps, glancing left and right before he's moving to join the other candidates as they begin to assemble into a loose ring around the eggs. A pause, and he's slipping in to the spot next to Aliona, a hand patting her shoulder quickly, giving her a half smile, before he's pausing, and sighing as the young Pieriena settles in next to him, half hiding behind him as she peeks at the eggs.
Qisanti steps onto the sands, hands held firm at her sides and chin tilted upwards, pride battling nerves as she follows with the rest of the Candidates. Her bow to the clutchparents and their riders is a bit stiff, stilted, but still respectful, and she picks her way along the spread of white-robed people before taking up a place not far from Rousseaux.
Aliona practically jumps as a hand lands on her shoulder, even though she can clearly see there are no hatchlings wandering around at the moment. A quiet "G'luck." is sent to those closest to her, but it seems conversation will be in short supply from her for once.
D'len steps off to the side so that candidates can get by, watching them like a gryphhawk. He does steal a glance over towards Cenlia though, and spots the shovel. Ohmy. Brows lift, but he doesn't allow further disttaction. Once the very lask candidate has taken their bow, he moves over with the other weyrlingmasters, making a quick survay of the shaking eggs before it's back to the candiditates his single eye goes.
Geiryna follows behind the rest of the Candidates, her bow a bit stuttered behind theirs, and she's quick to plant herself in the back of one little group, clearly a bit nervous about what is to come.
The movement of The All-Seeing Hand Egg is much more lively compared to the first little twitch. The fingers along the shell seem to move, but it is all simply a trick of the eyes for along those fingers, splitting them in what would be the most painful experience. Crack slowly spread along the rest of the egg, the faintest of lines spreading across the shell before all movement draws to a complete halt. Then? Nothing.
Darma follows the lead of those in front as they make their way in and onto the sands. She bows along with all the rest, her bow executed a bit jerkily, her eyes lifting towards those eggs rather than the dam and sire and there's a definite apprehension in them as she does so, almost freezing in place as a few of them move. She snaps put of it a moment later to scramble after the others to find her place near Sergius.
"Relax, Ali." Sergius offers with a smile to the trader girl and a quick 'good luck' before he's reluctantly reaching to squeeze the younger Pieriena's hand and try and calm the girl as the eggs begin to move more and more. A glance down the line, he eyes his fellows for a moment as they gather nearby before he's straightening his shoulders and looking forwards without even a thought for the galleries and the watching crowd.
Cenlia tenses as the candidates arrive, shoulders drawing back, but it's a sidelong look she sends Nziekilth instead of the white-robed figures. The gold, though, only rumble-thumms louder, shifting back onto her haunches and eyeing the lot of them with what might be, possibly, satisfaction. Yees, it is time. Cen huffs out a breath, and catching the weyrlingmaster's eye, nods toward D'len, offering the man, and his assistants, a lopsided grin.
Rousseaux looks sideways at Qisanti, offering her a smile that feels a long more confident than Roux herself is. Those moving eggs quickly drag her attention back to them though, and she blinks widely as she swears she can see cracks appear on one. Why she finds this surprising she isn't sure since she knows how eggs work and all, but she feels a little extra comfort is in order as she holds out her hand to Qisanti with a hopeful little look. Cat's got her tongue though and she can't find any words to say.
The All-Seeing Hand Egg begins to move once more with a single effort, then, it all falls apart as if the hand has released the grasp upon the shell entirely. And all that is left is the fair maiden who was trapped inside the shell, the sweet looking green is now free.
|Oddly Delicate Darling Green Hatchling|
|Delicate, dainty, and tiny this green is. She is no defined beauty, simply small and rather pathetic looking with long lanky limbs and wings that match, wingsails practically transparent in the light. Deep emeralds color her hide with gentle touches of seafoam and hints of lilac, painting the scenery of a valley in her hide.|
Anoryn is lurking off to the sidelines, blue eyes moving away from the eggs and candidates as D'len approaches. There's a brisk nod given to the Weyrlingmaster, followed by a light, slightly strained smile before the older greenrider looks away and back to the event at hand. Oh goodie, here we go!
For a moment there's nothing but silence. An inhalation being taken… before chaos rules. Trembling turns to full on earthqueake-esque movements. A shaking and rumbling of epic proportions causing the eggs to fall apart at the very seams! Chunks of shell now break apart, falling to the warm sands beneath it. A loud crack — BOOM — echoes and what once was the Butcher Knives And Brights Egg is no more. Instead, standing free and tall of what once was his prison is Life Is A Party Bronze Hatchling. It's alright, the party can start now, he has arrived.
|Life Of The Party Bronze Hatchling|
|Deep rich bronze spills from nose to tail-tip like a frothy lager in uniformity of color made of shadows, burnished to hints of metallic aged copper. Touches of rich glossy emerald green flash in iridescent glory across the tops of his headknobs, a brief flash across his snout, a smattering trace down the arch of his neck, a flare across the curve of shoulders, and finally, tracing down the spinal length to the very tip of his tail. The eye is drawn down, to the tip of his tail, ending in pure, rich amber like the head of a really good pale ale encased in a glassy sheen of green. Nary a sharp edge to him, bulk is not his birthright but length is; full of gently rounded neckridges, to the slight rounded edges of wingspars to the soft cup of claws, grace is embodied in form.|
"Ain't nervous." Aliona replies, but no matter how good her lying ability might normally be, her poker face fails her this time. "Just forgot t'go before I come out." She slants a side-eyed glance at the galleries, trying to see but not see if there's anyone she knows. "Two of 'em."
Evils of the Past Egg stirs to life once again and begins to rock from side to side, fine cracks barely seen among the darker portions of the eggs, until one splits across the white splotch in it's center, tiny bits of it's shell beginning to visibly peel and chip away. There is one last shudder and then the egg falls still, as if to regroup in it's efforts.
Kershaw watches as one then another egg starts to move, some more than the others. He looks around at those that he's gone through candidacy with and gives a confident appearing smile before he returns his attention to the eggs, those ever present egg and what might be contained in them…as eggs start to hatch leaving him slightly shaken as first a green then a bronze hatchling make their appearance.
Sergius chuckles with a shake of his head. "Can't be any worse than a bad fall, right?" And then, all joking words disappear in just a quick moment as not one, but two eggs fall to the assault of their occupants, and he's distracted by Pieriena trying to duck even further behind him. "Girl, what're ya -doing-?" He sighs, shaking his head and trying to draw her back out, even while nervously watching the bronze and green.
Qisanti normally would have plenty of words for both of them - but she's as silent as her partner as she takes Rousseaux's hand, taking a deep breath as first one egg, then a second break, spilling their hatchlings onto the Sands. "Oh, my," she murmurs, shrinking back from the scene before her natural curiosity gets the better of her. As is to be expected, there is a twitch of freehand towards hip - but wisely, she didn't bring her drawing supplies onto the Sands with her. So she waits, watching and staring, committing the scene to memory for later.
D'len twitches some at the weyrwoman's lopsided grin, straightening some and maybe even trying to hide his poor assistants away behind his slender frame. Not very successful but the gesture is there. As eggs start to hatch, he lets out a breath. "Here we go." he murmurs to the other weyrlingmasters around him.
Life Of The Party Bronze Hatchling steps gingerly away from the shards of shell that once house him. Eyeridges bounce saucily as the dragonet turns his head and gives an amused rumble-snort towards his clutchparents. Taloned feet kick up sand and eyes face forward once more as he swaggers onward towards the candidates. There's an almost dancing motion to each movement, a light and airy step as he maneuvers around his siblings and candidates. Females of both species are given lingering glance and a wiggle of the tail as he keeps on trucking it through this party.
In the Eyes of Lazarus Egg twists as it wobbles, an eerily sinuous motion that turns its eye-spots from candidate to candidate, staring them all down. Creepy. Eventually, it comes to rest, vivid green orbs staring straight up at the audience. Dun dun dun.
Aliona laughs a little, but it's halfhearted, "Woulnd't know, ain't done one of them neither." Her head turns and for a second there's a flicker of a genuinely amused smile, but the hatching soon claims her attention again.
Rousseaux's eyes go wider and her lips part into an 'O' of surprise, fingers squeezing where they're connected with Qisanti's. "Oh my, indeed," she says in her rough country accent, all the more rustic for her nerves. "They're kinda cute, save for the goo and all."
Darma's family likely doesn't even know she's here - whether her letter has found them on the Trader's circuit yet is unlikely, so she doesn't even glance at the galleries. She'd hide right along with Pieriena, and for a moment it looks like she might join the girl behind Sergius, but refrains, steeling herself to watch a touch fearfully instead. Not that she's afraid of /other people's/ dragons, but these…
Oddly Delicate Darling Green Hatchling wastes no time stumbling away from the ruins of her prison, instantly turning towards a certain girl. Yes, this one will do perfectly. From the creels of delight, it is quite obvious that her choice is made and she falls into a girl with blonde curly hair who is quite young indeed as she just barely meets the age requirements. A pretty miss, innocent and naive as her new lifemate seems to match. This girl, Pieriena lets out a soft sound of surprise before her arms wrap around the egg-slick hatchling. Oh. Yes, Tenniath. Ill protect you.
With a triumphant cry the Oddly Delicate Darling Green Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
In the Eyes of Lazarus Egg splits down its right eye, a gaping hole suddenly replacing what was once a bright green splotch on the egg's shell. Great. Now it was even /creepier/. Something's moving inside that concave, and it looks rather… dark.
Siarief shifts from foot to foot, shaking out the grains of sand that cling to her toes. Sweaty hands are rubbed on the sides of her robes, trying to dry them off but it seems that no matter what she does they don't become fully dry.
The rest of the black sand obscuring the base of Portal to the Masters Egg rolls off like a ripple as it starts to shake. At it's very top it begins to rotate, increasing in speed before popping upwards and falling back down again. Very slowly it tilts askew, then all is calm once more.
Sergius isn't really capable of missing the fact that there's another girl lingering dangerously close to hiding behind him, and with a sigh and a shake of his head, he's tsking at Darma, and finally gets Pieriena to step out from his shadow, just in time for the green to arrive, Sergius looking relieved as the girl is no longer -his- problem, and he can focus on the other dragons. "Shards…"
Evils of the Past Egg resumes it's efforts, starting with small movements before giving one last furious shake and rocking motion before crumbling apart. Large chunks of the shell fall away to surround the large, lithe form of the brown hatchling left in its wake. Some of the shell is further shattered when the hatchling moves to steady itself, crushed under the weight of his feet, red-whirling eyes focusing almost immediately on the line of candidates. Then, lowering himself into a hunter's prowl, he is on the move, silent and wasting no time in seeking out his other half.
|A Rebel Since Birth Brown Hatchling|
|Browns the shades of dead leaves and the forest's floor make up most of this large dragon's coloring, field drab hues the most prominent of them all on his lithe, muscular frame. Shades of sepia curl and drape over his wide-set head and up along blunted head knobs, tumbling down along the powerful curve of his neck and over eye ridges, before blending into the russet tones along the narrowed tip of his muzzle. Russet swirls with shades of liver and burnt umber along the length of his sides, the duller hues curving up to accentuate the outline of muscles, while the darker pool along the curve of his broad chest, lean belly and partially down the sides of his whip-like tail. Field drab returns along his wings, primarily untouched until he spreads his wings, revealing sails of a raw umber color but dusted with diluted shades of mahogany, tawny and ochre, some more visible then others depending on the light. Long, well toned, limbs end in a darker shade of seal brown, all but masking the near-black shade of his sharp talons.|
Another pop into the air for Portal to the Masters Egg, righting itself straight and proper. There's no movement at all for a time, and then all at once a great heave that cracks the entire surface, whole pieces of shell dropping off and revealing the thin cloudy membrane beneath. The creature inside squiggles around and shifts, tilting the egg the other direction and then stills.
Qisanti starts a bit as the first Impression is made, craning her neck to see just who it is that was snagged by the green. Her free hand pumps once in a 'way to go' gesture, though she herself makes no sound of congratulations as the other Candidates are. Instead, she simply clings to Rousseaux's hand, taking a deep breath and watching out for the remaining hatchlings.
Siarief claps her hands, offering a bright "Congratulations." as a new pair walk off the sands together, her smile beaming even as her teeth nibble on her lower lip and she shifts from foot to foot.
Sealed with a Bow Egg shivers, ever so slightly. But nope, it's not going anywhere.
Introductions are given to one and all as Life Of The Party Bronze Hatchling side steps around the fallen debris of shattered eggs. Here and there he'll give a good kick to a shell sharp, sending it skittering away. All the while his head is held high, eyes swirling quickly with colors of good humor… and just a touch of red blending in. Finally, the lollygagging is brought to an end. A party is a party, but there is an agenda here as well. A nagging certain something that needs this bronze's attention. Serious-face is put on and a direction is picked.
Aliona is quickly taking a step back as the green comes closer, then relaxes again as it goes away with a candidate beside it. A glace is made at Darma, the briefest of nods, though the observant might notice her fingers twitch as she does it.
Kershaw watches as the green impresses to h Pierena, he smiles at the new pair and calls out congratulations "Way to go Pierena!" Then his attention is caught by the hatching of the brown and Pierena and her new lifemate are quickly forgotten as he examines the newest arrival on the sands.
Siarief calls out yet another "Congratulations." to another pair before wiping a grimy hand over her forehead to keep sweat and her hair from falling into her eyes.
A Rebel Since Birth Brown Hatchling silently prowls closer to the candidates, his stance tense and movements slow and calculating much like a hunter closing in on his prey. A few are immediately dismissed with nothing more then a passing glance with his whirling red eyes, before he finally hones in on two particular candidates. These two have been the best of friends all through candidacy, young boys, one a Smithcrafter apprentice and another simply a hunter. Both warily watch as the brown hatchling's wedge-shaped head moves to judge them both critically, before a warning hiss is given to the Smithcrafter to back /away/. His choice as been made and he promptly moves his lithe body to come between the rejected boy and the younger hunter. Erowan, now E'ran, can only give his friend a quick glance before his attention turns to the possessive brown by his side. "It's okay, Jelenovecth, I understand. I'm yours and we'll get some food." He says, before leading the brown away.
With a triumphant cry the A Rebel Since Birth Brown Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Rousseaux is surprised by how /quick/ the first impression happens, and finds tiny words to offer congratulations - not that they're likely to be heard as the new rider wanders off. She doesn't waste time watching them disappear though as there's another hatchling on the sands, and her gaze flickers between the newly-hatched brown and bronze, before leaning in towards Qisanti. "Best of luck," she murmurs, giving a little squeeze. "Oh! So /fast/!" The brown finds his mate within no time, and Roux once more offers her congratulations.
Sealed with a Bow Egg shivers a little more, but this time there's a little extra oomph, and that smooth shell wrapping starts to come undone, fine hairline cracks appearing across its surface.
Sergius continues to watch Pieriena for a moment, but then there's a brown, and the bronze is headed towards the ring of candidates, and he's drawing his attention back to them, a hand extended momentarily to both Darma and Aliona, offering, you know, just in case.
In the Eyes of Lazarus Egg sags apart, like a pelt being shrugged off. In its place stands a remarkably unremarkable blue that, somehow, possesses power and presence despite his appearance.
|The Die Has Been Cast Blue Hatchling|
|Tales older than time speak of brave heroes, descendents of the gods that live a life of servitude and sacrifice to their moral code. Always, their destiny is determined by another, greater mind, and always it is forseen that something - often tragic - will befall them. This blue? He stands emblematic of it all. To the naked eye, he is average, comprised of medium height, medium build, and an enigmatic visage that reveals little as to his personality, but he was designed for another time and place. His musculature is all lean sinew and power, hidden beneath a storm-bruised hide. 'Ridges rip through his spine like blades, a vicious exterior belied by the stance of one that would rather be a lover than a fighter if only the dice had been tossed another way. It is tragic, then, that this day and age has little use for heroes but… who knows. Maybe some day, he'll find his purpose.|
The stage is set, the time feels right. The best song of the day belts out to the ears of all the party goers. Life Of The Party Bronze Hatching has found what he is searching for. A decently tall lad, with blue eyes and reddish-brown hair is who the dragonet angles towards. Marching up to the teenager, that same swagger in his steps. His destination is reached and so he stands straight and tall. There's a hint of arrogance in his stance, perhaps the corner of his maw upturned in a draconic grin. The bronze gives a tilt of his head, the question apparent. Sergius getting the full on grace of his stare. Hey dude, wanna be my right hand man?
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Life Of The Party Bronze Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Darma has been keeping her eyes on those hatchlings all right, and thus she sees that green approaching. "I'm here for you to pass me by… give you choices…" She's chanting this just under her breath as she edges away, just a few steps. When it selects Pieriena, she can't hide the releif on her face, although it's followed by a curious scrutiny of the newly-bonded pair. The girl looks okay… hmm. She flicks Sergius a sheepish glance, takes his hand with obvious relief, her eyes lifting towards Aliona and she wobbles a smile to the other girl. "We may just survive this?"
It's hard to take someone's hand when there's a dragon bearing right down on the group, and Aliona's never quite reaches Sergius even after he offers. "Serg." There's warning in her tone, an implied 'run' that stays unspoken. As Darma speaks Ali nods, "Maybe. Ain't goin' t'bet on it none." Another pause follows then a quiet, very very quiet, "Nice one Serg."
Qisanti gives a bit of a hard stare as first brown, then bronze Impress - but she echoes her original fist pump for each of the Impressees in return, even adding in a soft "Congratulations" for Sergius as he finds his lifemate. Edging just a touch closer to Rousseaux, the harper clears her throat, then murmurs, "And to you," in response to the girl's well-wishes. Clearly, though, this young woman is running high on nerves and low on anticipation; she seems more interested in avoiding hatchling notice than in garnering it.
Sergius is apparently a jerk, for almost as quickly as his hand is offered to Darma, its pulled away, for there's that bronze basically on top of them. And then, all he can utter in recognition to Aliona's quip is 'Shards' before he's staring almost blankly at the bronze, and nodding. "Uh, yah, That way, Tzettenvonth.." He mutters, blinking, and glancing at the girls. "What kind of name is S'u?" But then they're headed towards the meat, as if the new weyrling has any choice in the matter.
A quiver of sorts has started to cause Revelations of the Soul Egg to tremble slightly. This steadily increases up to full shimmies and shakes, very nearly undulating from top to bottom. The sand which hugged its base throughout its gestational period crumbles away and the entire egg topples over onto it's side. It rolls a few inches, and then stops.
The Die Has Been Cast Blue Hatchling stands there for a long moment, quietly surveying. His eyes are half-lidded, his stance brave and sure. Little phases him in regards to the current activity on the sands - in fact, if anything, there is a hush about this blue. A calmness. A destiny. Picking up his feet, he saunters forth, bypassing a large swatch of candidates before finally electing to peer up into their faces. No. Not this one. Nor that one. Nor— No, wait. This one is stronger than the others. Bolder. He will do. "Iactath!" Resudre, a tall, lean boy from Nabol, steps forward to accept the blue's comeraderie. "Yes. I will be your R'es." As one, they move off to find the nearest weyrlingmaster and exit the sands.
With a triumphant cry the The Die Has Been Cast Blue Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
"Congratulations, Sergius!" Rousseaux grins over at the lad, rolling his dragon's name over in her mind. Tzettenvonth. Nice. Her attention is quickly back on the eggs though; there's a blue to keep track of, and with the rate they've been finding their — "Wow," she gasps as Resudre becomes R'es, of blue Iactath. "So /fast/." Congratulations are, of course, handed out.
Kershaw lets go a loud cheer as S'u impresses to the Bronze Hatchling, "All right S'u! Way to go!" He turns to the candidate next to him and claps him across the shoulder, "Now there's a pair that we'll be hearing a lot about just you wait!" Another cheer as the blue hatchling finds his lifemate as well..he is amazed at the speed of the impressions, no leisurely stroll on these sands!
Unceremoniously Portal to the Masters Egg jerks sharply and then flops over, the side with the exposed membrane face down in the sand. It rotates again, this time on it's side - like the needle of a compass - until the monstrous gray mass coloring it's peak points due west. Then and only then does the apex shudder and shell give way. Opening almost like a futuristic capsule, it ejects it's precious cargo onto the sands of it's birth, before disintegrating completely in it's wake.
|Risen From The Ashes Green Hatchling|
|Licks of brilliant lime flame feather up this lady's dainty limbs, starting at her toes, the talons at their tips so bright that they may suggest a molten heat to rival Rukbat. Dancing up to her haunches and chest flares of chartreuse break free from the vaguely lighter hue of her legs, slipping effortlessly into ejections of mint and apple. They float away along a field of fern, which darkens only so much as hunter green at her eyeridges, headknobs, and the tips of her spars. A blaze of pistachio curls like smoke around her nostrils, dissipating some up and over the elegant shape of her head, trailing between her headknobs and fluttering down her spine to erupt into a teasing hint of pine at the very tips of her tail forks. Every inch of her is in perfect proportion, right down to the spread of her wings. The spars misted with brushes of teal, which is only found more distinctly upon the gradient hue of her wingsails. Darkest at the crooks, they blend beautifully from sea to shamrock, before tapering off into honeydew at their outer most edge. Stunning not only in color, her movements flow one into the other with the prowling grace of jungle cat, cool and calculated as if all the world was watching.|
Darma gets a brief contact before Sergius pulls away, her momentary lapse of attention to the sands finds her surprised to see the reason. She yips, claps her hand to her mouth and darts a guilty look towards the Weyrwoman and then Nziekilth. From behind her hand the words are muffled, but she calls after Sergius, "Congratulations!" Dropping her hand, she shifts to fill the space he'd occupied, moving nearer to Aliona, just like she's been taught. "Yeah." It's a simple agreement, but heartfelt.
Geiryna seems startled by the speed of things as well, eyes finally focusing on S'u and his bronze as if waking up. "All right! What was that name?" She looks around dazed for a moment, "Sue?" She'll figure it out eventually. And in the meantime, there's that intriguing green…
Aliona tries. She really, really tries. But there's just something about a boy named S'u that tickles her funnybone and the giggles comes out as a series of little explosions of air. As she moves behind Darma it's not out of fear this time, it's out of worry that she might actually explode.
Revelations of the Soul Egg appears ready for another round. Rather than staying in one spot it rolls, this way and that, leaving flakes of its shell behind. It smashes up against one of it's still shelled clutchmates and can go no further. Again at rest, the egg is still, but now with more than it's far share of visible fissures and cracks.
Kaldrozen looks around as Impressions are made and he quietly shakes his head. "Congratulations." He says this to everyone and no one in particular, smiling after the pairs leaving the area.
Ittisieth may be the lesser-known, lesser-feared of the dragon parents on the sands, but the dragon is /there/, and he has his pride. These are his children, and via them, these candidates are /his/. S'gam might be rolling his butt off somewhere in the background, but Ittisieth's eyes focus - WHOOM - on the giggler on the sands… and then he stares. (And we wonder where the creepy eggs came from.)
Qisanti can't seem to take it all in - her head swivels this way and that in response to cracked eggs, roaming dragonets, or distracting calls from the other Candidates. Finally, with a squeeze of Rousseaux's hand, she squares her shoulders and stares straight ahead, keeping her attention on the hatchlings roaming the Sand, rather than speculating on what the others - eggs or Candidates - are doing.
Siarief shifts more slowly from foot to foot, the heat of the sands pulling the energy out of her as she watches the eggs come apart and the hatchlings find their lifemates in the line of candidates.
Snorting indignantly, Risen From The Ashes Green Hatchling stands up on legs that are sure of the power they yield. She gives a sharp flick of her tail like a whip to dislodge any sand or goop that might be clinging there. Holding her head up proudly, whirling facets scan the ring of white and pink things. They all must be here for her! Then why, why are they not bowing? Straight from shell one movement seamlessly glides into the next as she surveys her unworthy subjects. A sniff here and there, all resulting in the same disapproving wuffle. It is with a dusky skinned lad from one of the Western holds she must find pleasing enough, for facets narrow as she looks long and hard into golden-brown eyes. Chaadin, now Ch'ad startles, "Peleth? Her name is Peleth!" he exclaims, but the green wastes no time, coiling around her lifemate to give him a push from behind.
With a triumphant cry the Risen From The Ashes Green Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Cenlia settles back to watch the shaking eggs and impressions, eyes darting over to the candidate that's yipping over there. A brow quirks, but the weyrwoman doesn't do more than tilt her head back, though there might be soem coughing as she catches the name of Osta's latest bronzer. "Shards, Zeek, them things're never /normal/ is they? Ya couldn't pop out some ordinary ones once inna while?" making a face and then having to quickly duck as the gold's massive mauscular tail takes ans absent swipe at her. Nziekilth, though, is too busy EYEING the candidates and hatchlings, and remaining rocking eggs. Especially when Ittisieth starts staring at one in particular. Nziekitlh lowers her head right close to Aliona. GRRR. She pulls back after a second, though, when the little green impresses, gerring her big blocky nose out of the way.
Rousseaux returns the squeeze with a gentle one of her own, as if to just prove that she's still attached to her hand. Or something. The country girl is about to say something when yet /another/ dragonet finds her lifemate, and she finds the words whipped right from her. In their place? A muted, though no less hearty than the previous, congratulations.
The Monster Within Egg wiggles and wobbles fitfully for just a moment, then stills. Stiller than any living thing has any right to be.
Kaldrozen watches as another Impression happens, clapping his hands before staring as Nziekilth's head moves down next to Alion. An eyebrow raises, but the young man says nothing more, his attention turning back to the moving eggs.
Siarief shifts more slowly from foot to foot, the heat of the sands pulling the energy out of her as she watches the eggs come apart and the hatchlings find their lifemates in the line of candidates
Aliona freezes instantly. It's one thing to be stared at by people in the galleries, quite another to have attracted the glares of the clutch parents. At least her giggles have faded now, suddenly S'u's name isn't quite so hilarious. Another step is taken around behind Darma, aiming to get to the other side. "So." Her voice has a slight squeak to it for this first word. "Warm here."
Sealed with a Bow Egg outright shudders, but this time the tremble only grows, till the thing almost shakes itself apart! Actually, it /does/ shake itself apart, and in no time at all, with fragments of shell flying, a new-hatched dragon arrives on the scene.
|Timeless Enigma Green Hatchling|
|As if bathed in all of the morning's brilliance bursting relentless through a thick canopy of foliage, dapples of honeydewed mist swirl over the wings and head of this shapely creature. The resplendence of light melts away into a hazy mesh of scalloped sage at headknobs and sails, before drifting along the curve of her ridges all the way down to the fork of her tail. Curly fronds of fern spread out over her chest and ribs in a feathery display, their implied heft causing the thinness of tender young shoots to droop ever so minutely to just rest against the pine of her underbelly. A shadow of ivy wraps around her neck, tail and all four of her legs - but so faintly, its almost indiscernible from the dance of mint and lime that blend in and out of one another upon her silken hide. A seamless melding of moss thickened willow graces the darkness of her paws and talons - kissed with flecks of chartreuse and a mysterious luminescent emerald sheen. Despite the delicateness that her coloring suggests, beneath that deceptive covering is a wiry musculature that bestows a lithe quality to her frame. But it's her complete and utter lack of hard angles which allows the roundness of her to be fully realized in a distinctly feminine fashion.|
The heat from the sands have slowly worked their way through the soles of his sandals, as he slowly starts to move from one foot to the other following the age old imperative of the candidate shuffle left foot, pause, right foot, pause and so on the age old dance soon carried out without conscious thought on Kershaw's part as another egg shatters and a green makes her appearance on the sands.
The Paranormal Arrythmia Egg shudders, kicking to life as though shocked with defibrillators. Tha-dump. Twitch. Pulse. Then it eases back into stillness.
Geiryna is all too aware of being EYED, hands joining in a death grip behind her back. She swallows hard and blinks rapidly, averting her own eyes from the conspicuous bulk of grring clutchparents. All at once she realizes she's relatively alone, a sitting duck for any mama or rampaging hatchling. She tries to sneak her way closer to anyone, anyone at all, but the attempt is far from successful. She freezes again as another egg explodes, EYEING the newest hatchling warily.
Uncanny Reflections Egg shows little indication that anything unusual is going on, its shell calm and unbothered, nestled as it is in a shallow depression upon the black sand of the hatching grounds. A shivering ripple across the surface might not immediately be noticeable, as it merely warps and contorts the shifting greys upon its surface, bulging as if something inside where reaching out, attempting to force its way into the world.
Darma is snickering right along with Aliona although hers is a touch less enthusiastic. Yes, S'u is amusing, but she's too nervous to be fully entertained. Her laughter is cut off mid-cackle as she catches Ittisieth's glare. Yes, but not to tick Daddy off! But There's a gold head there, looming and growling and it's too much! she nearly collapses back on top of Aliona but at least she manages not to scream? She's chalk-white now rather than flushed from the heat. "I- I'm kinda cold," she whispers over her shoulder while keeping her gaze affixed on the retreating Nziekilth. They're all gonna die!
Kaldrozen looks uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. Shifting from foot to foot, he wipes some sweat from his brow, the eggs and hatchling eyed carefully once more. "Shards, it's hot."
Timeless Enigma Green Hatchling raises her head to the chaos of the hatching grounds, eyes whirling with hidden thoughts and the shaky surprise of having come into the world in such a manner - all dripping with egg goo and bits of shell sticking to her hide. But there's a knowing in that glance, drawn without fail to the ones in white who stand before her, head tilting despite her predicament, in thought. Or mayhaps.. in choice.
Siarief shifts more slowly from foot to foot, the heat of the sands pulling the energy out of her.
Qisanti's gaze flicks over the newest green, a low hum in her throat showing her appreciation for the hatchling's coloration, but her gaze does not linger, instead swinging out to see if there are any other dragonets that bear watching. When only eggs and Candidates show in her quick perusal of the Sands, her eyes swing back to the green and watch, wariness and admiration vying for dominance in her expression. She doesn't give much attention to the clutchparents or the objects of /thier/ attention - after all, she doesn't want to draw it, herself.
The Monster Within Egg jumps up suddenly, making another valiant attempt at escape it's shelly prison. It's just not right, being confined like this. It wiggles, it waggles, then a single hairline fracture forms, cutting deep into the dark heart of the egg.
There is almost a pulse in the way the shell of Revelations of the Soul Egg expands and contracts with the efforts of it's occupant to escape. It even jumps an inch or two off the sands with the force of one of the pushes. This at least manages to dislodge it, starting to roll again, but not very far. Rocking back and forth, the momentum causes it to flip top over bottom. When it comes down onto it's side again, the shell finally gives way, spilling an eggwet dragonet that continues to roll. Rear over snout.
|Beside The Dark Passenger Blue Hatchling|
|Perfectly average and unassuming, this dragon might of blended in with the crowd, at least when it comes to form. There is nothing in particular about the shape of his head, or the length of his tail and neck. His legs don't look any stronger than others of his brethren, nor his talons any sharper. It's his startling hide that sets him apart. While his main body is a blue so pale its difficult to tell it apart from ivory, every edge has been infused with the deepest shades of midnight. Tail forks, headknobs, snout, spars, toes, joints, eye ridges and back ridges. Wingsails prove to distract for a moment when extended, cobalt faded to azure towards their center, with fine silvery veins like lightning across them. Beyond this is a flowering of sapphire creating almost delicate petals and leafy vines in bountiful bouquets over sides and chest. Elegant swirls of ultramarine and navy snaking out and weaving themselves along ribs and underbelly. Tiny blossoms of prussian lined steel curling over haunches and toes as if carried off by an unseen summer wind. His jaw and talons stand stark with an infusion of glaucous, with intricate swirls and dotted whirls of the purest white - creating an antiqued embossing over darkened areas.|
Aliona's hand goes out to steady the other trader girl, and as Darma professes to feeling cold Ali's hand automatically reaches for hers to hold. "You'll be fine." If only she actually sounded like she meant it. "If one of 'em knocks you over then you'll probably be too hot f'r a bit." Even nervous as she is the 'probably' comes out as 'proberly'.
Rousseaux looks at the latest green dragonet with wide eyes. "She's taking her time," she says aloud, possibly to Qisanti, possibly to herself, possibly to no-one at all, but it would seem she's puzzled by the length of time the girl's taking to make her choice. A hatching blue steals her attention away though, and she draws in a breath at the sight of him. "Oh, he's /pretty/," she murmurs, casting her gaze around the remaining candidates as if trying to guess who he might go to.
The Paranormal Arrythmia Egg jolts much more violently this time, trying desperately to make sure its contents are alive. The effort is taking its toll, though, forming hairline fractures across the heart-formed egg. Some of the red flakes away to reveal a darker, more foreboding color. Soon.
The Monster Within Egg shivers once, letting that crack slide wider, then repeats the process. Over and Over until that crack spreads the whole shell, finally releasing its occupant onto the sands.
|Devil Disguised as Adonis Bronze Hatchling|
|This darling is all strong lines and sharp curves, his tone so pale a sepia he could almost be mistaken for a sport dragon. Almost. But the pale brownish-bronze with tell-tale glimmers hiding in the shadowed places of his hide making his true color deeply hidden but visible. The only bit of his hide that has any sense of true, deep color is a single strip of shimmering copper that runs from between his head knobs down his neck, over his back, and out to his tailfork extending around a handspan on either side of his obsidian black neck and back ridges. In stark contrast, the claws on the end of each of his delicately formed fingers and toes are pure white, just a hint of ivory on each viciously sharp tip. Strong muscles ripple just beneath the pale surface of his hide, almost giving the sense of something more hiding there just beneath his hide. Waiting. Every bit of him is perfectly formed. Hes not the slightest bit wherry-necked or snub-tailed. Even his snout conforms to the perfect length and width ratio, coming out and curving just so, expertly hiding his wicked teeth, slightly longer than average. An acceptable imperfection. His headknobs sweep back smoothly along the curve of his neck. The faintest hints of curls of white fail to stand out against the paleness of his hide all along his neck. And through it all, his eyes always hold the sharpest of color, a little smaller than average from where they stare out beneath his smooth, gracile eyeridges.|
Geiryna manages to crab-scuttle her way within speaking distance, at least, eyes darting between the two hatchlings as she goes. "Don't know about pretty," She mutters, though has to nod: for a wet and ungainly hatching, those colors are unique. And then another, a bronze! Not knowing exactly where to watch, Giry's eyes dart back and forth rather twitchily. "Now /that's/ pretty," She breathes.
Kaldrozen eyes move towards the new hatchlings and he lets out a low whistle. "Another bronze…" He trails off then, shifting from foot to foot again.
Luckily for Beside The Dark Passenger Blue Hatchling, that flip flopping only goes one round before he lands with all four limbs straight out. He lays there for a second before wiggling himself up to standing, swaying a bit back and forth until he finds a sense of balance. As steady as he's going to get, he simply plops down onto his backside right where he is and takes a look around. Wait. Who's that? He cranes his neck forward and peers at one grouping of candidates in particular before he's up and edging closer, evidently focused on a Reetah, a skinny little brown haired boy from a tiny cothold to the south. He takes one look into the boy's brown eyes and knows he is the one. "Vhaezith! Yes, I'll always be your R'tah!" He flings his arms around the blue's neck and hugs him.
With a triumphant cry the Beside The Dark Passenger Blue Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Answering The Call Egg doesnt move so much as it looks as if it may be bubbling, movement rippling along the shell of the egg but there isnt much fanfare behind the event. It probably isnt all that exciting to begin with. Look elsewhere. Nothing to see here, people.
Darma squeezes Aliona's hand, grateful for the contact and not at all ashamed to show it. At the same time she shoots Rousseaux a glance of disbelief. "Pretty? They're all slimy and stuff. And they have /teeth/!" Which she still isn't convinced won't bite by the way she says that.
Siarief shifts more slowly from foot to foot, the heat of the sands pulling the energy out of her as she watches the eggs come apart and the hatchlings find their lifemates in the line of candidates
Kershaw watches as the bronze hatches to join the others hatchlings on the sand, wonder who he'll choose…"They sure know who they want, no messing about with these hatchlings!" Sharding heat is making his feet feel as if they've been slow roasted over an open fire with no immediate relief to be seen. He smiles at Darma's comment about the hatchlings and just shakes his head, they are pretty…mind you some more so than others.
Kaldrozen watches as another Impression happens and smiles, clapping his hands a few times. "Way to go!" And then he's back to doing the candidate shuffle. Foot to foot.
Timeless Enigma Green Hatchling knows what she wants, and doesn't seem to care for anything else going on around her. No, she has focused in on one single candidate, without even having stood up yet. But once she appears certain, she /moves/. Oh, and she has teeth alright, jaws parting just briefly, but there's so much more to her than that. Sand and broken eggshell get shaken off in short order, tiny fragments sticking to slick hide as uncertain legs bring her /forward/. But it's not too far, and there's no going back. Her small, damp snout lifts unhesitating, whirling facets meeting those of the one she's chosen. This one. And none other.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Timeless Enigma Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Geiryna is holding her breath and following the progress of each hatchling avidly; her head swivels almost as much as her eyes have been twitching. For a moment she remembers to bend her knees, take a gulp of air. There goes the blue, the green.. threats no longer, she saves one eye for that bronze but cranes her neck out to get a good look at the remaining eggs.
Devil Disguised as Adonis Bronze Hatchling is most displeased with his predicament. Each wing is carefully and tastefully flicked to loose the bits of shell and goop that linger there back to the sands where they belong. He arches his pale neck, turning his head to examine the candidates from a distance. Eenie. Meenie. Meynie. MO! He takes off towards them at a run. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's- not an impression? He pulls short at the last minute, spraying sand with the suddenness of his halt. He cocks his head to one side, then the other. Which one, which one. He leans down and sniiiiiffs a girl with black hair and mousey brown eyes, but she's given only the slightest of snorts. Not derisive, just not right. She's for other things. He lingers over the part of the line he's near, sniffing here and there before a small draconic smile starts to spread, sly and sneaky as he moves up to a dark-haired beastcrafter who's stood before and noses him in the shoulder. There's a moment where both are still and their eyes meet, then Cymor reaches out to pat the bronze on the snout before offering a manly, one-armed embrace, "Yes, Drestoserath, I'll be your Y'mor."
With a triumphant cry the Devil Disguised as Adonis Bronze Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Aliona squeaks out a "run" as the green comes towards them, dropping Darma's hand quickly enough but not quite coaxing her legs into motion. Wide eyes stare at the approaching dragon, then down at her hands. A ponderous look comes over her for a moment. Two hands, two impression next to her. "Congrats Darma." is muttered but she's already looking for someone else to spread her apparently lucky touch to.
When she's done offering her congratulations to R'tah, Rousseaux cocks her head at Darma's comment. "You were all slimy when you were born, too, and I bet your mum thought you were cute." She smiles nervously, then turns back to watch the dragonets. Bronze, lovely as he may be, doesn't capture her attention as she's missing vital parts he'd be interested in, but the green? Her path makes Roux giggle. "Betcha she looks prettier now, hey, Darma? Congratulations!" Y'mor also receives similar felicitations.
A quivering of sorts may draw attention back to the Uncanny Reflections Egg, whose perfect stillness is quickly interrupted by a tremendous shake that once more distorts. This time however, a section along its side actually appears to cave in, sending cracks and rifts jagging across the shell face. The epicenter breathes, flexing, giving it an eerie sort of life in itself. Chips are dislodged and drop off to the black sand beneath, seeming nearly reflective due to the contrast.
Kaldrozen shakes his head as Impressions continue. "Shards, this is fast. I guess it always is….Congrats Darma!"
Qisanti watches, offering her congratulations in appropriately muted terms, not quite sanguine enough to join in the bantering of the other Candidates. Instead, she merely clings to Rousseaux and watches - wariness having won out over admiration, though the latter lurks at the corners of her mouth as she continues to watch the show.
Nziekilth seems satisfied again, deep rumbling thrumm in her throat rising and falling with the rhythm of the other dragons, a vital himm which sets the stones of the weyr to vibrating still, even as there are more shards of shells than whole eggs on the sand now. Cenlia just makes faces at the gold, in response to some apparent internal dialogue, and occasionally shoots suspicious looks at Ittisieth.
"They're giant LIZARDS with wings!" Did she just say that out loud??? Darma is sane enough not to actually say this aloud, right? Right? Clapping her hand over her mouth, it's eyes back to the sands just in time to see a green hatchling right… there. In front of her. Ooops? She freezes for a long moment and this time she actually does stagger back against Aliona before pulling gently away as if in a trance. "Melsariath. You're beauuuuutiful." The young teen reaches a tentative hand towards that muzzle, eyes dazed. "Adventures," she breathes. "Yes, of course we will." And there's no questions at all about whether she will live through them, even!
Answering The Call Egg certainly seems to be oozing, now, the bubbling certainly not being a dragon moving in there. Or is it? Thin cracks form and ooze spills out along the shell, dripping down onto the sand below. But really, look elsewhere! Nothing happening here, people.
The Paranormal Arrythmia Egg finally beats its last, the strange echoing noises coming from its shell silenced… for in their wake comes something much more hideous. Wings are the first to emerge, tearing through the main arteries and spreading wide as spiney ridges emerge. The rest of the shell eventually sloughs off to reveal—
|The Last March Bronze Hatchling|
|Gaaaaaaaaaaa—lorious! Yes, that's it. This dragon is, uh… glorious. A strange conglomeration of both of his parents, this dragon is stolid, strong and built like weyrbowl. All dips and crags, copper-smeared headknobs and neckridges rise like starstones, jutting sharp and harsh towards the sky. Each of his toes are long and gnarled, twisted beyond recognition to something closer resembling the roots of a skeletal tree. Lichen flakes and spirals across an angular jaw and chest, appearing one part spiderweb and one part beard. Small and beady, his eyes are ever-roving, belying an unearthly intelligence beneath cragged, somehow expressive brows. Slow and moss-laden he may be, but he is a force to reckoned with when ancient morals force his bronze hide into action.|
Geiryna is now on hyper alert for any egg activity, finally content that hatchlings aren't candidate-eaters in disguise. She trades nervous glances with anyone who catches her gaze, brown eyes wide and anxious.
Kershaw swallows a gulp as the latest hatchling excapes its shelled prison, ummm he is umm unique, yes unique that's the word he was looking for though something about this one has his attention what that might be is a mystery to him but Kershaw sees 'something' in him.
That concave section of the Uncanny Reflections Egg crackles now with relentless shockwaves, further fracturing around the curve of its shell - resembling nothing so much as all the qualities of crushed glass. A sort of red tinge is implied as flakes of it fall away, and for a second or two it gives the strong impression that something is bleeding. Though the creature within will no longer be contained, having waited so patiently till now, suddenly bursting forth in a shimmering rain of shattered shellslivers.
|Kobol's Last Gleaming Blue Hatchling|
|Swirls of silver lightly kisses the pale hide of this fellow, found most prominently upon the sheer of his delicate wingsails. Dark veins of gray fan outwards over the entirety of the surface, fading in and out without care of order or pattern. The iciest of periwinkle flows like arctic water over his spars, trickling down over broad shoulders and a wide chest. Blotches of cornflower and royal blue churn and shift with an almost caustic effect at the joints of his strong legs, again at the very tips of his headknobs, and most starkly applied to his spine and ridges. Blooms of cyan shimmer with glints of sun-touched gold hinted at the sleek line of his well-formed jaw but then spills further in a fluorescent glowing band arching across his shoulder blades, ribs and finally trickles down to pool over his haunches. The only darkness to be found upon him is represented by bold star-bursts of prussian strewn randomly here and there as mysterious and unknown as the heavens themselves.|
Kaldrozen swings his head back and forth as two new hatchlings present themselves. "Wow…they're pretty interesting. Third Bronze I think…and a nice blue." Another wipe at his forehead and an anxious look towards the hot sand at his feet.
Aliona watches Darma leave and then sidles closer to Kaldrozen. Just to test her theory she reaches a hand towards his arm, just briefly touching should he let it, then lets it drop back to her side. "Almost over, I think." Certainly less there than was started with. "You got plans f'r after if you don't… y'know?"
Siarief looks at all the hatchlings shiftiing her weight from foot to foot. Kindly watching the remaining hatchlings smiling as she watches life mates walk off the sands together.
Rousseaux squeezes Qisanti's hand. Down to the last three (two really, considering one hatchling out there's a bronze), and she's quite glad the experience is almost over. "Another good-lookin' blue," she says quietly, biting down on her lower lip.
The Last March Bronze Hatchling… kind of doesn't move… As a matter of fact, he doesn't do anything. At all. Except maybe breathe. Huh. Time passes, a tumbleweed or two figuratively roll by, and though mild chaos abounds, he is motionless. Then, claws wriggle, as though testing out this newfangled thing called /moving/. Wings wriggle. His neck arches. Finally, the strange half-bronze, half-/tree/ takes a grating step fowards. Then a second. And it's all momentum from there. This one knows whose heart beats in time with his own. Unfortunately, the candidate doesn't seem all that thrilled to see bronze-zilla stomping his way. "Shardi— I mean… Hello, Iti… Itiznee… Err, Itinzeeketh?" A pause, a failed hopeful smile, and then the short boy with straw-yellow hair lowers his head in mild shame. "Yeah, Itinzietkith, that's what I meant to say. Don't worry. I'll get it right eventually." Embrett - now M'ret - reaches tentitavely over to hook his hand around one of Itinzietkith's disfigured headknobs and lead him off the sands.
With a triumphant cry the The Last March Bronze Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Kershaw waves his congratulations to the new pair, as he moves faster from foot to foot as the heat from the sands is causing more than just discomfort.
Kaldrozen turns to Aliona with a quick smile, letting the hand fall. "Yeah…almost. I…don't know yet." There's a tinge of nervousness to his voice as the Sands begin to empty. "Oh…another, congratulations."
Answering The Call Egg cannot hide the fact that it is, indeed, Hatching any longer. The cracks soon become more defined and the hatchling within begins to claw its way out. Eventually it bursts and comes to reveal a rather odd looking brown Hatchling.
|Unprepossessing Suppurate Creature of Wisdom Brown Hatchling|
|A skeletal monstrosity is this creature from the madness. No mere illusion, ribs are clearly seen beneath the bistre colored hide. Soft russet colors the grooves between each bone of the ribs, giving more depth to the already clearly defined. The rest of him is quite the same, shoulder bones heavily protruding while the joints in his forearms and forelegs are drawn into attention for the fact that they appear so large compared to the bones that hold his frame together. It appears as if he may lack any sort of muscle until the gaze is drawn to his paws. Large paws with large claws, making the rest of him look quite disproportionate. A thin, long tail is notably one of his odd features, also looking quite as jointed and skeletal as the rest of him. For the final touch, large disproportionate wings hang down beside him and oft drag against the ground when not held properly in place upon his back. Touches of burnt umber rest along the headknobs - which are elongated and quite wider than most - making them look similar to the ears of a felines but entirely stationary.|
Anoryn has been busy ferreting new weyrlings from the sands to the barracks, lingering long enough only to see that another weyrlingmaster is on hand to help them before wandering back. There's a bit of a relieved look when the assistant spies fewer eggs. "I'm getting to sharding old for this…" she grumbles, among other things muttered under her breath. But for now, she gets to lurk on the sidelines again, blue eyes watching and waiting.
Giving his entire body a shake to loosen flecks of shell, Kobol's Last Gleaming Blue Hatchling soon rustles and then folds his eggwet wings against his back. He wastes no time in setting out to inspect the white robed beings, actually completing a full circuit before starting all over again, but this time only stopping in front of this or that one. He seems to be narrowing down the candidates one by one until he spots a tall pale-blonde woman from Eastern Weyr towards the back. Had she been there before? He nudges past the others until he can look all the way up into her sky blue eyes. Capricasix, now Six gasps as her hands come to rest on his young shoulders. "Gaiuth, what matters most is being together, you're absolutely right."
With a triumphant cry the Kobol's Last Gleaming Blue Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
Kaldrozen lets out the smallest of sighs, shifting back and forth from foot to foot uneasily. The Blue's Impression does earn a few claps however and a congratulatory smile.
Rousseaux has offered her congratulations to M'ret, and then to Six, and has nowhere else to look but at the last hatchling out there. "He looks skinny as a drowned feline, that one," she says with a little frown of concern. "You think he'll get fat when they feed him up?"
Kershaw shouts congratulations to the newly formed pair as the blue finds his lifemate amongst the remaining candidates as a sense of Deju-Vu starts to slowly creep into his consciousness, he looks around and wonders who will be next to find a lifemate and if his feet will ever be the same?
Aliona nods, "Well…." Whatever thought comes next isn't voiced, she just shrugs and stays close to Kaldrozen for the time being, eyes fixed on the sands. Slowly, very sloely, her hand reaches for his.
Unprepossessing Suppurate Creature of Wisdom Brown Hatchling finally shows some movement in the form a single twitch that does not include twisting his head about to consider his prospects, he does not spare a look to any others there on the Sands. He seems to have tunnel visioned on one man in particular, with no hesitation the skeletal brown lifts himself and moves with an odd yet feline-like grace. His tail swishes behind him, and then, he stops before his intended meeting the eyes of his now found lifemate and waits patiently as his tail thuds against the black sand beneath them, waiting.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Unprepossessing Suppurate Creature of Wisdom Brown Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Kaldrozen looks up in wonder at the small brown before him and reaches up a hand to tenitively rub it along its eye ridge, "K'drozen….ah yes, of course Rhyrith we'll get ya something right away." The other candidates about him are almost completely forgotten now, as he stares at his new lifemate.
And it's all over. Rousseaux smiles over at Kaldrozen, bobbing her head in acknowledgment of his new lifemate. "Congratulations, K'drozen!" She turns her pink-cheeked face to Qisanti and shrugs her shoulders, smiling. "Guess that's it then, huh? Better luck next time and all that."
Qisanti stands there for a long moment, her normally mobile face expressionless even as she offers a muted congratulations to Kaldrozen. Then, with a hitch of her shoulders, she disentangles her hand from Rousseaux's, turns on heel, and strides from the Sands without a backward glance. She may have predicted this outcome; that doesn't mean it comes easy, and from the swiftness of her departure, it seems she has something in mind to take the edge of the disappointment. The sooner, the better.
"Hey way to go K'drozen! Congratulations…" Yup Deja-Vu alright, he's been in this position once before and this time is no better than the last. Kershaw looks around at the remaining candidates then shrugs his shoulders, he's got some thinking to do, yes he does that indeed.
And as the last of the eggs hatches, and the last of her offspring impress, Nziekilth's rumbling thurmm fades off leaving an echoing silence in its wake. Or maybe just a lot of babbling from the galleries. SHE SEES YOU UP THAR. The gold stretches idly, watches th weyrlingmasters like she might be considering using the eyepatch'd dud e for a toothpick, and then gives a hefty snort, and turns to the enormous entryway, wings spread, one massive beat shurning up sand and taking the boulder of a dragon aloft, against all good sense and gravity. And she departs for the feeding grounds, leaving Cenlia sitting there on the platform, brandy bottle half-raised and suddently vaguely shifty, "Er." There's a sideways look around, possibly for S'gam, before the reluctant weyrwoman drags herself to her feet, clears her throat, and burps. Uh. Oops. "Uh, right then. You lot, off the sands," waving at the remaining candidates, "Got a right proper hatchin' feast. Go get drunk, or if yer too young, eat bubblies till ya burst. Either way, go have fun, an'.." she pauses to consider, "er, feel free to stick 'round Ista if y'ain't native and whatnot." Her hand waves vaguely i nthe air, before she hops off the platform and tromps off to the caverns. A public speaker.. she is not.
Aliona has the touch! It's clear the process her thoughts go through. 3 touches, 3 weyrlings. Quickly she pulls her hand back from Kaldrozen, mutters a "Congrats." and touches herself on the opposite shoulder. Then just for good measure, she does it with the other hand too. One hand clamped now to each shoulder, and looking vaguely ridiculous, she stares out onto the… empty sands and her smile fades a little. "Well ain't that annoyin'. Used it all up on the others." Slowly she begins to laugh again, hands dropping back down to her sides. With a grin, Aliona bows one last time and heads out.