Eulweth x Suldith Hatching

Ista Weyr - Candidate Barracks
Rows and rows of cots fill the length of this cavern, which is far larger than the needed amount of candidates that Ista commonly hosts - it's a remnant from turns gone by, when space for up to eighty was necessary. The beds have been pulled further apart, many discarded, which means that there is plenty of space between each of them for a press and even a small table, though it's still not the most spacious of areas. Boys and girls have been mostly separated, with dark orange canvas curtains able to be drawn down the length of the chamber, to close off various sections, although there's still something of a communal sense to the place. A tunnel, kept firmly covered by a great door, leads deep into the depths 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 hung at intervals, the dim ones changed regularly, as yet another chore for the candidates who reside here.


Stephane is sitting on the edge of his cot. He's got what looks like a primary book in his hand and he's going through it slowly, trying to mouth out the words as he reads. A small knitted figure is seated next to him, as if watching him work. He's flipping through pages slowly, much more slowly than one would expect at his age, but he's progressing.

It's evening at Ista! Hopefully everyone is back from dinner, or they're gonna be extra hungry! Luckily it's a nice day in early spring, so not too horrible and humid. Rukbat is starting to dip below the horizon, and then the dragons start to hum. It's go time! E'on seems to have slipped into being an assistant weyrlingmaster for the time being, and it's the tall blonde man who slides down to the barracks, shepherding a few stragglers from the living caverns. "Alright all, you know what that sounds means."

Having lived at the Weyr for all her life, Miarene does know. So why do her cheeks blanch at the sound? It's supposed to be all unicorns, puppies, and excitement, right? Then, E'on enters, her brow puckers, and she starts to move, shedding her clothing in favor of her white potato sack robe. Is that an expletive under her breath? Someone else in the barracks remarks snidely, "It's doom. DOOM."

Knit one, purl two, what's a candidate going to do… mess up the pattern is what. Kaylis has been a little on edge all day, not able to concentrate properly, and it's miserable timing that as E'on enters she's busy ripping back her knitting once again. The confirmation of things starting saves the yarn from death by knitting needle, but unfortunately dooms it to be abandoned in a corner.

As they get closer and closer to the hatching, Eshaimik seemed somewhat more withdrawn, brooding like he's carrying the entire weight of it on his shoulders. And yet, despite that he surely does know what the humming means, the dramatic moment finds Eshaimik staring blank-faced back at Zi'on, nearly uncomprehending. Mouth opens, shuts, opens again; but he doesn't make a sound.

Stephane tilts his head to the side at Mira's response and then the others start moving in a sudden, spastic motion. He gets up quickly himself, taking the book and closing it and sitting the little stuffed figure on it. He reaches out and grabs his sandals and candidate robe and slips into it, tying it up around his waist.

All of the flurry in the barracks, of her fellow candidates, is watched with bright green eyes. It's with slow movements, bending to reach her sandals, that Zilisa attempts to get ready for the inevitable. She slips into her robe, and immediately, deftly, braids her blonde hair into a single plait. Instead of communicating with the others, she's simply quiet, almost withdrawn into her own world, though the occasional glance around the room suggests she's at least ''aware''.

E'on blinks. "Doom? That's awfully fatalistic for a candidate." He says to whoever that was. "Should we leave you to bleed out in dramatic fashion should you take a mauling?" E'on leans in the doorway once he thinks everyone has come inside the barracks. He counts. Eshaimik always seems to be brooding! He's the saddest candidate. So so sad. E'on doesn't seem to be affected by the urgency. He's as calm as ever, and pats the wall next to him. "Line up here when you're all set. And I'll look you over before we head upstairs. Who knows what the first thing you're supposed to do once you get out onto the sands is?"

Kaylis gets dressed quickly, hair tied up in a very haphazard fashion, and shuffles over to stand near Stephane. "I guess not passing out is a good thing." She grins at E'on, trying to seem calm but her twitching hands tell a very different story.

It's only when everyone else starts diving for their robes that Eshaimik seems to realize what he's supposed to be doing. And then the flurry of activity as he, too, slides into his robe, ready in a flash and moving to position. He's practically vibrating with nerves by that part.

"Bow to the dam and sire, right?" Stephane says as he hops over his cot with a front flip, landing easily as he moves over towards the line, trying to not cut in front of anyone or get in people's way. He's moving around a lot and that might be from nerves, but he's always moving around. He looks over at Kaylis and grins at her. "That's a good idea too."

Miarene finishes smoothing out the wrinkled folds of her robe and shoves one last bite of some sugary confection into her mouth and goes to stand near Eshaimik. Around the food, all gooey in its caramelness, she mumbles, "Your robe is on backwards." Surely it's a tease. Is there even a right side to a robe?

Cue more panic in the wide-eyed stare that Eshaimik gives Miarene. "Shit," he says, with feeling. And continues mumbling such under his breath, even while he pulls his arms in and swivels the whole thing around. Let's hope she was right about it.

E'on chuckles. "Passing out is generally not a good idea. It might affect your hatching chances." There's a nod to Steph. "Precisely." He gives the candidates in line a look over. Some are directed to fix things, but most seem fine. He waves them through the door. "Now now, no foul language please. Up we go."

"Did you hear? No foul language," parrots Miarene to Eshaimik, the smirk that surfaces no small one. The ribbing is accompanied by an elbow into the emo teenager's side. "Also, don't pee in your pants, or lack thereof."

Eshaimik flushes already for the chiding, but he sticks his arms back through the sleeves of his turned-around robe and tugs it down awkwardly. Ready as he's going to get. "'M not," he tells Miarene, rubbing at his elbowed side. It can't have really hurt, but all the same—. Emo emo.

Kaylis grins over at Miarene, and just as she seems to be relaxing a little E'on says the fatal words. "Shells." A brief pause then she adds to Stephane, "We're standing together, right? Or… you know… you slightly in front of me."

Stephane swallows and nods, looking around as he nods to Kaylis. "You ready?" he's almost bouncing up and down in place. "Yeah, so, together."
Zilisa brushes off the front of her robe and smooths out the wrinkles, sliding her braid over her shoulder. It's then that she moves quietly towards the other candidates, nervously rubbing her hands together, but otherwise remains silent and bright-eyed.

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 oppressively 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.

Stephane walks out on the sands, bowing deeply, a stage bow to both Dam and Sire before he wanders along out into the middle of the sands, turning to watch for Kaylis' arrival.

It is a wonderful Spring evening at Ista - the type of evening that you would love to spend outside, enjoying the fresh air and the slight chill that lingers in the air. And of course, that means it is the perfect evening for a Hatching, stuffed inside the cavern with all of your closest friends. And thus, that is exactly what has happened - the humming of the dragons has called everyone to watch, and Angharad sighs a little as she makes her way across the Sands, giving one more longing look at the entryway. "I suppose we will be out there soon enough.. Even if it does mean dodging the unhappy holders." She mutters to herself as she slips to the platform - something dark held in her hands as she idly twists it, gaze slipping down to the eggs on the Sands, while Eulweth shifts, settling further back from the eggs than she has been since they were laid, settling down to keep a watchful eye on them as they begin to move - and the white robed candidates that are headed that way.

In the darkness, it can be hard to determine if the Swathed in Shadows Egg has moved.. but perhaps it has, the small orange dots seeming to quiver in the shadows. Or, was it merely an illusion?

It seems that the rebellion has truly begun within the Swathed in Shadows Egg, and that darkness has begun to lose to the light - small cracks are lining the shell, breaking up the night.

Kaylis takes a moment to have one last deep breath before stepping out onto the sands quickly enough that she comes close to running into Stephane's back. Another deep breath follows, before she mutters "Act your age, Kay. It's not like you're being staked out for Thread." and moves over to stand next to her friend.

After an experimental twitch, Strange Aeons Egg falls still. Did it truly move or was it an anomaly of the light? Impossible to say.

Miarene steps onto the sands and presents a hasty bow towards the clutch parents, half-sidling towards a spot and half-bowing at the same time. Her fingers trap themselves within her robe as she twists the ends. For all her snarky commentary before, there's a distinct thread of nerves present.

Swathed in Shadows Egg has fought the valiant fight, but it seems that the time has come for it to lose - for life to win over the darkness of death. As the shell falls apart, however, it seems that perhaps darkness has won out after all, as a dark-green hatchling remains where the dark egg once was.

Legend of the Shadow-Hamed Green Hatchling
Shadows gather upon this large green, casting what would otherwise be avocado hues into darkness, gray-green slipping along her body, and enveloping lithe limbs and wraithish wings alike. Olive crawls up from her ebony talons, dapples creeping to her elbows as it splashes her belly, hints of color in the darkness. Eye ridges are exaggerated, phthalo green emphasizing rather than concealing as they sit above a short, smushed muzzle, faceted eyes hidden away beneath the cloak of darkness, a cloak of darkness that follows the sweep of her ridges down her back.

Zi'on is late as usual. He takes the start of the humming to mean, time enough to run back to the weyr and wash up and change! And eventually he strolls down to the sands, sliding over next to Angharad and giving the goldrider a hip-bump! Then he sidles up next to her. "Hello there, weyrwoman!" Someone got into the wine a little early tonight! Suldith is already pacing about the sands, but staying… far out of the way.

Eshaimik's robe may or may not be on backwards. WHO KNOWS. But he's here, and he bows, and he has that semi-constipated look of not knowing a thing to do beyond that. He stands next to Miarene, very close indeed. Protect me, woman.

Another twitch. A spasm. A shudder. And there- at last, a great crack splits down the unspeakable face of the thing that is the Strange Aeons Egg. Distorted features grow further distorted - and then there is nothing.

Angharad takes a swing at Zi'on with whatever soft, lumpy, knitted? thing is in her hand, frowning a little as she shakes her head. "Can't you keep it together for just a *little* while longer?" She mutters under her breath, shaking her head again, letting her eyes wander over the candidates, pausing as the first dragon appears, frowning a bit as it is green. "Shards."

A Crazy Bit of Canvas Egg wriggles in place just enough to knock some loose sand away from around it.

Zilisa steps onto the sands with her hands folded in front of her body, steps slow as she follows the other candidates in trekking forward and bowing to the clutch parents. Then, she keeps walking, until she finds a spot in the line of white-robed youths awaiting the hatchlings.

The split upon the face of the Strange Aeons Egg widens. Then it widens further as clinical claws probe the splintered opening. It doesn't take long at all for an egg-wet brown to finally emerge and prod at the remains of his former housing.

Stephane seems surprised by the sudden arrival of a green hatchling and he looks to Kaylis, motioning towards it to her. "We barely got on the sands and there is one out already. Wow…" For once, the barker, trouper and entertainer is suddenly caught stunned.

The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling
He's all limbs and neck and tail, this brown. Lanky and long and sleek, he's a creature that's meant to move - and move quickly. His muzzle is a bit on the short side, contrasting eyes that are abnormally large, and his maw doesn't seem quite as large as it probably ought to be. The most notable quirk is his right headknob, which appears to be much shorter than the other one is; an anomaly, to be sure. His coloration is a smooth, medium hue of brown that drapes itself over the majority of his slender physique. There are deviations: the tan that covers his mouth and touches his eyeridges, the pallor of his paws, and the dark, tribal patterns that slash their way from his forehead and down the back of his neck, between narrow neckridges. His wingsails are not immune to the markings, either; there, they're transcribed in near black, as if to emphasize their importance. The patterns turn into evenly spaced rings along the length of his tail, only to end on a lighter note. His claws are clinical and white, tipping too-long digits that are rarely still.

"Green." There's triumph in Miarene's voice, and she asides to Eshaimik, her twisting hands stopping for a spell, "I bet a green would hatch first. It wasn't popular, but I just won a few marks off of Horsten."

Legend of the Shadow-Hamed Green Hatchling sits in the shadows - at least, in what shadows exist upon the sands of Ista - for a long moment, turning her head this way and that, letting herself adjust. And then, it seems, she has begun to realize what truly lies in front of her - and she on her feet, moving in a rush. One, two, three, four.. Candidates are bypassed without a second glance, though she slows as she nears the next bunch. Five, six… seven. And at the seventh candidate, she pauses, tilting her head and looking up at Tehlin, nudging the young man in his stomach. "Encanith?" T'lin asks hesitantly, before turning towards the side of the sands, the green already leading the way.

The Last Stand Egg is making its last stand! Its not hatching. Nope! It wont even wiggle a little!

A subtle shiver winds its way through the Reflections in Smoke Egg. It stops as quickly as it started, calling into question whether it moved at all.
"Congratulations," says Eshaimik, trying to sound unbothered. He does not quite succeed. "I didn't bet. And—oh. Tehlin." he says, as the green impresses quickly. It does little to settle the nerves, having one out of the way; and he turns his eyes sharply to the brown that follows.

A Crazy Bit of Canvas Egg gets angry! At least thats what it looks like. It looks like a tiny round angry person with their fists clenched, shaking in anger! The shaking becomes more and more violent, until the egg breaks out into a thousand tiny cracks!

Kaylis blinks, hands moving almost without thought to where her hair's uncoiling in the heat. Another rough braid is added, before she nods to Stephane. "Two, though that one looks distracted. Look out!" As the green comes barreling past she takes a step backwards aiming to move in behind Stephane should any pointed creatures come in their direction.

Zilisa sighs stutteringly when the first egg hatches and a green graces the sands. She's positioned next to a tall, brown-haired boy with hawkish features, that she keeps stealing perturbed glances at between stares at the awkwardly-moving hatchlings. Her green eyes snap to the brown when he hatches, her swallow audible.

Zi'on grins to Angharad. "Me? I have things together. I'm together. I'm… hmm." He brushes at a wine stain on his collar. "Hrm. Green. Isn't that some sort of bad omen. Like the sky is going to fall or something?" He scratches at the stain on his collar, like that will do anything. Then he looks at the… lumpy knitted thing? "What's that?"

The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling sniffs at the shell hed emerged from. Then he sniffs at himself. His dam is next, of course, followed quickly by his sire. And those white things over there? Oh, hell get to them, in due time. First, to explore his surroundings and acquaint himself with his new terrain!

A Crazy Bit of Canvas Egg becomes more and more cracked! Tiny bits of egg dust fall away from the shell as the energy and pressure starts to build up within! Finally the egg explodes! Sending bits of shell every which way, and out rolls a rather round-looking creature.

The first egg hatched and Impressed alleviates some of the nervous stress in Miarene's balled up fists and the end of her robe is finally let go. Instead, she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Encanith? Is that what he said? Such a sweet name."

Chubble Bubble Blue Dragon
As blues go, this one is rather on the shorter end of the spectrum - and on the wider end, as well. His muzzle is blunted, his eyes wide despite the weight of thick eyeridges, and his features, as a whole, seem liberally rounded to a fault. Even his neckridges are short and rounded; stumpy, in fact. His hide is a bright shade of blue with hints of purple; a peculiar berry blue hue to be sure, but well-fitted to the likes of him. The sheer thickness of him is only emphasized by his curious markings. Intricate weavings of blue-kissed quicksilver wind their way around his neck in an eternal filigree. The patterns widen over his thick shoulders and thicker chest, only to stretch improbably around his naturally corpulent gut. Those arcane weavings tighten to cover his forelegs like bracers, all the way around. His claws, in contrast, carry a slightly golden tinge to them. The designs scroll their way across his moderately truncated wingspan, loosening up and tumbling freely into nonsensical patterns that break apart at the trailing edges. They only dissipate once they reach his tail, as if there just wasn't enough to go around.

"As if the sky wasn't *already* falling.." Angharad counters, before shaking her head, lifting her hand to wave a hand the dark thing at Zi'on once more. "My disguise. Perhaps it will get me out of awkward conversations at the feast." Of course, it is far more likely to cause them. However, at least for now, the disguise remains unworn.

A violent tremor shakes the Reflections in Smoke Egg and a fine, spiderwebbing crack spreads out across one side. The reflections on it are rent asunder, while the egg seems to hesitate.

"I think so," says Eshaimik, nodding in confirmation to Miarene. His weight shifts uncertainly as he watches the hatchlings on the sands now. "I think it was something like that. I'm sure you'll find out—at the least if you impress yourself."

"Three now." Stephane says, motioning towards the little chubby blue. "Look at that blue, he looks like a ball." A small laugh comes there before he nods. "And the brown doesn't seem interested in us at all." He shifts around, still nervous.

Soaring Sunlight Egg shifts amongst the sands of the Istan Hatching Grounds, sending the sands around it sliding, the colors of its shell making it difficult to discern exactly how much is now free.

Miarene gives Eshaimik a funny look. "We'd find out what that delicious little green's name was even if we don't. She reminded me of fruit. Which now reminds me I shouldn't have had that last doughnut. I might vomit from this heat."

Kaylis's eyes dart between brown and blue, trying to guess which way they'll go and shuffling a little closer to her 'shield'. "He's cute." To which she's referring goes unstated as she spots another egg moving and points in its direction. "That one's going to go next."

Eshaimik, defensive, scowls at that and slants a look over at Miarene. "Well, yeah, I mean, you ''could''. But probably faster if you were actually—just, nevermind," he says. Sulk. She's on her own when it comes to vomiting.

Zilisa shifts uncomfortably, likely from the heat of the cavern on the whole, and flicks glances between the hatchlings on the sands; she's trying to keep an eye on them ''all''.

Chubble Bubble Blue Dragon rolls out of the explosion and to a stop down the sands. Bits of sand and shell cling to him all over. At first he looks like he might be heading toward the candidate line.. but then no. He stops short and starts digging in the sand. Digging and digging… then he moves over slightly and starts digging there. Soon there's holes here and there all over the sand like divots on a polo field.

Zi'on raises a brow at Angharad. "A disguise? Last time I wore a disguise someone stabbed me in the kidney. And now the healers say I have to cut back on the sweets. Can you imagine!? Me? Anyways you can always skip the feast."

The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchlingis quick to sort out how his limbs work, in the end. With a casual flick of wings and twitch of tail, hes on the move properly - and he moves fast. Darting this way and that, his movements are dangerously unpredictable. He dashes at this Candidate and that, but each one is found wanting and he continues onward with his experiments.

At long last, the cracked side of the Reflections in Smoke Egg caves in. A luridly green hatchling stumbles out and pauses, eyes narrowed as she considers the white shapes just beyond.

Jewel of the Feathered Serpent Green Hatchling
This is a curious green indeed, with a serpentine build and a keenly inquisitive face. Her eyes are cunning and narrowed under sharply sloping eyeridges, lending her an even more snake-like seeming. Her entire form is sleek and swept back, with long wings meant to carry her forever on the wind. It's her hide that's the most striking, however: bright, beetle green with a strangely metallic sheen covers her almost entirely, the color skewing toward rich blues and purples when she moves at certain angles. Metallic browns and bronzes can be spotted from time to time and a whole other rainbow of hues can be caught when the light strikes her exquisitely iridescent hide. The leading edges of her wings glow with a kiss of gold that streaks down her wingsails like so many fine feathers. In contrast to her brilliance, her claws are as black as obsidian - kissed with a tinge of silver.

"-What?-" Ani's attention is stolen from the hatching dragons below at Zi'on's comment about being stabbed. "Without a disguise, I bet there is at least one Holder around who wouldn't mind duplicating that feat, you know." And she shrugs. "I want to see the families, I just don't want to see… well, everyone."

Ghoulishly Decorative Egg jerks and wobbles across the sands with no concern for who or what it might run into. Get out of the way or dance along, but it doesn't care if anyone gets in its way!

"Hah, you're right!" Stephane says to Kaylis, pointing to the lovely green that's suddenly hatched. He seems stunned by the quick movements of the brown. "That one is charging at us, so watch out." He tells her, turning his attention back to the eggs and dragonets.

Soaring Sunlight Egg has managed to work itself free from its sandy prison, hints of gold and amber visible as thin cracks begin to race across the surface, the curved structure beginning to give away as a result of the passage of time.

Zilisa fidgets endlessly with her fingers, plucking at her robe, and moving from side to side to alleviate the heat underfoot. She frowns at both brown and blue hatchling, apparently finding their mannerisms odd.

Kaylis jumps suddenly as something touches her leg. Glancing down to find it only sand kicked up by one of the other candidates she takes in a deep breath and refocusses. Blue digging, check. Green hatched, "Shells she's bright." Brown… Stephane's warning draws her attention back to it and she lets out a strangled 'erk' as she watches it charge the line.

Jewel of the Feathered Serpent Green Hatchling takes her time. She's just that sort. At long last, like some terrible feline, she uncoils from her place in the sand and moves straight toward a young woman with dusky skin and dark hair. Xolota cries out with surprise, "Don't say such things, Tezquacoatlth! Come, let's get you some food!"

"That," opines Miarene in a hushed voice, "Is a beautiful green." She nudges Eshaimik with a sandaled foot and gestures, in case he missed it. Across the way, she looks to seek out other candidates she might know and lingers briefly on Kaylis and Stephane. Should she catch their eye, she'll wiggle fingers.

Chubble Bubble Blue Dragon finally stops digging sand traps for his brethren and instead saunters over to the candidates. Hello tall man with facial hair. Oh no. No no no. Nothing can be that unkempt. STUBBLE!? No no. Absolutely not. And so OLD. How about you, tiny sandy-haired boy? Don't they give you haircuts at the weyr? Why does your head look like an upside-down bowl? And your robes! They are to be white! No… dull brownish whitish gray.

The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling practically sprints along the line of Candidates, with no sign of exhaustion. He should be tired for as much as hes moved, but hes not - and thats perhaps for the better. After causing quite a ruckus - unintended! - among one knot of Candidates, he finally makes his way back around to the one person who passed all of his experiments. A certain seamstress is selected and he settles in front of her with an anxious twitch of his tail.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the The Very Model Of A Scientist Brown Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Ghoulishly Decorative Egg continues its dance, the actions getting more spastic as the focus turns from just dancing to actively trying to escape the confines of its eggy prison. It tries and tries until, finally, a crack appears, large and wide, but giving no hint to its occupant.

Soaring Sunlight Egg has stood through the ages, but now time has won out, and that which was hidden away beneath the sands must be shown to the world. As the cracks until to spread, the shell finally begins to come apart, and there is a hint of yellow, or perhaps cream, before another shake, and finally the mysterious occupant is left upon the sands, facing a new world.

Sunkissed Shadows Gold Hatchling
The palest yellow, the soft hue of fresh cream, pools with determination on the hide of this delicate gold, settling into each and every crevice whether it is the elbows of her long, slender limbs or the crook of her equally slim tail. The pale hues slip across the straight lines of her back, sliding along her sides, darkening to a gold-tinged vanilla along her stomach. Even her wings are a study in pale shades, as peach sails stretch between vanilla spars. Each line of her face brings her perfection into sharper relief - as soft, warm sunglow hues brush over her long, even nose, dancing upwards over fragile-looking eye ridges and head knobs, emphasizing her faceted eyes and her narrow head. The darkest hues are found upon the perfectly formed ridges that line the center of her back - honey blonde flowing down the line, hints of brightness shining through.

Zi'on looks at Ani. "-Stabbed-." He repeats. He peers at her. "I don't intend to be stabbed -again-. There will be guards around." Though… he does sound a bit nervous. Maybe he should find some newspaper to wear under his shirt. "Let me see your disguise. Did you tell everyone you were going to be wearing one?"

The Last Stand Egg refuses to hatch! Its going to sit here all night and not even crack!

The nudge draws Eshaimik's attention toward the green, and he turns that way to look at it, sucking in a breath. And there's the gold, and the brown impressing—and it's all a little much for him to take in, his eyes wide.

Sunkissed Shadows Gold Hatchling most certainly does not look like she was just confined within the curved shape of an egg - and she is shifting just so slightly to ensure that there is no possibility of anyone making that mistake either. Carefully settling on her hindquarters, limbs arranged neatly beneath her, she tilts her head upwards, first to her parents, and then turning towards the candidates that ring the clutch. A soft little sound is heard escaping from her, before she is carefully and gracefully getting to her feet.

Kaylis blinks, then blinks again, her posture slowly going from worried to pleasantly shocked. "I'm not scared. Okay, maybe a little. Um…." She looks up, looks around, then back at the brown in front of her, "He says his name's Grellith."

"No. Why would I do that, it wouldn't be a very good disguise then, would it?" Angharad snaps back, even as she freezes, attention drawn to the pale gold upon the sands as Eulweth offers a soft croon in return. Without her eyes leaving the young dragons upon the Sands, she shifts to pull the 'disguise' on - revealing that it is a knitted beard that now covers the lower portion of the weyrwoman's face.

Stephane takes a sudden step to the side as he notices the gold hatching. "Look!" He turns to Kaylis and seems to be lost for a moment when there is suddenly that mad brown sitting there. "Wait.. what?" He seems stunned before he allows a "Hey!" He beams. "Congrats." He laughs at that, stepping a bit away as he looks around, waving to Miarene in return

Distracted by a word stabbed, Miarene strains to look to see where it came from, brow creasing. But it's the sudden announcement of a name that has her swinging her attention back to find Kaylis and then the hatched gold. "Did you see? Kaylis Impressed." Lower, she adds to the candidate next to her, "And the Weyrleaders are talking about stabbing someone."

Zilisa finally links her fingers together to cease their twitching, and slides curious looks left and right, to see her fellows candidates' reactions. Then, it's back to staring in shock at the dragons roaming the sands and the eggs that keep hatching.

Chubble Bubble Blue Dragon has given up on the men. No. He wont even look at them now. Women only. He stuffs his short and stocky muzzle into each girls face as he moves down the line. No. No. Yes! Here is the one! Hair as gold as sunshine and lips pink as a blushing babe!

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Chubble Bubble Blue Dragon has found its partner at last and impression is made!

It seems to be just a moment after Kaylis mentions Grellith's name before a weyrlingmaster is by the young woman's side, motioning to the side of the sands with a smile. "This way, there is plenty of food."

As with all things, Ghoulishly Decorative Egg's dance must come to an end. It stills so suddenly, one might think something's wrong, but, no, its occupant simply wishes to make an entrance, first claws then head emerging from the egg until he stands clear.

Dark Lord of Life and Death Bronze Hatchling
Darkness flows over this fine dragon like he's literally shrouded in shadows. A thin streamer of brilliant purple runs from each eye back, down along his lithe neck and over his back until they come to feathered ends, one on each fork of his tail. Robust headknobs are dusted in flecks of copper as are his neck and back ridges, but the rest of him is more gracile and agile. Long but powerful legs end in broad feet, ideal for leaping and bounding, and his wings are slightly larger than average, only emphasizing the image of him as a leaper and flyer. His true color only becomes visible when he spreads his wings, brightest polished bronze and brass war for dominance in swirls of brilliant color across his wingsails. There, and only there, is his darkness truly broken, though even in this sea of brightness, flecks of black and purple mar the surface: hidden darkness in the light.

Sunkissed Shadows Gold Hatchling does not rush, does not hurry, and does nothing without reason. Each footfall is carefully considered, and her wings are carefully shifted as to avoid the still damp sails from dragging in the sand. Her head remains held high as she nears the candidates, turning her head this way and that as she inspects them from a distance.

There is but the barest shudder from the Metal and Masks Egg. Then it's still again. Resting.

Zi'on raises a brow at Angharad. "Well, how are the people that want to talk to you going to know who you are, then?" He grins as the gold works her way around. "So… looking forward to another junior I bet." He rubs his hands together. "I still need someone to organize the papers in my office."

"Kaylis?" Eshaimik swivels his dark head that way, first to catch that impression; then to the Weyrleaders with some alarm. "Stabbing? Do they ''do'' that?" he wants to know. "Why would—." A sentence not to be finished; there are more dragons on the sands now, despite the first few being claimed.

Dark Lord of Life and Death Bronze Hatchling is righting himself quickly, wings stretching widely before his is settling them on his back, shifting from foot to foot as he attempts to find his footing, as if he too is doing a dance upon the hot sands. A trumpet escapes him easily, and with that he is off towards the ring of white.

A frenzy of movement strikes the Metal and Masks Egg, but it yields little. A fine web of cracks consumes the top and one side, but nothing is revealed.

Stephane stands alone, looking as each of his friends impress their dragons. He seems surprised by the suddeness of some impressions and the lingering wandering of others. He notices the bronze, grinning with those big teeth of his when he notices the dragon 'dance' on the sands much like they all are. "Handsome bronze. Such a lovely color."

"Well, the people who want to talk to me *aren't* necessarily the people whom I want to talk to. The last thing I want to do is talk boring business while we're suppose to be celebrating. Though, it seems you already have been." Angharad sighs, and then watches the gold continue to wander. "Perhaps. Hopefully she is a useful one… And you will keep your hands off her."

The Last Stand Egg gives a heaving sigh and then bursts outward, and pieces of shell are knocked away as the dragon inside is freed! Alright alright, its hatched already!

Royal Blue Hatchling
There is something particularly noble about this well-proportioned blue, though it's hard to pinpoint just what it may be. Perhaps it's the set of his eyes or the sweep of eyeridges; maybe it's in the inquisitive cast of his muzzle or the elegant curve of his neck. More likely, it's in the rich blue of his hide, a royal shade of cobalt that's fractured with streaks of lapis lazuli. His head and headknobs are crested with a crown in that bright blue, with the brilliance weaving between his neckridges like ribbons. Those splinters of lapis lazuli grow wider along his forelegs until they terminate in claws of that selfsame hue. His latter half is strikingly different, rich hues devoured by a darkness that leaves his hindclaws hewn in ebony. His wings are as a cloak of char, a blue so dark it might as well be black and framed with charcoal. Flecks of ashen hues scatter themselves across those darkened sails and spill out over his haunches before they vanish beneath another swell of blue-tinged smoke. The smoky shades gather and deepen along the aristocratic length of his tail, choking out any hint of brightness.

Miarene one-shoulder shrugs, her attention focused on the hatching once more. "I just swore I heard the Weyrleader say something about stabbing or stabbed or stab…ulation? Is that even a word?" The blonde woman runs fingers through her braid and surveys what's hatched, what's walking and what might be headed their way. "I really should not have had that last doughnut."

Zilisa had been staring, frustratingly, at one of the eggs that hadn't yet hatched, and it's with a startled gasp that she steps back from the blue muzzle directly in front of her - or, is it, from the voice in her head? She sets a hand against her head and sighs theatrically, before resting the same hand, gently, on her new lifemate's snout. "Kurexith. Of course," and she's looking anxiously for the weyrlingmasters that will guide them towards the vats of meat and oil.

Sunkissed Shadows Gold Hatchling has reached the point where closer inspection is necessary, and after a passing glance at a number of young men, she continues, pausing to tilt her head at a short, redheaded young woman, before continuing on her way, tail flicking just a bit behind her. And then, something causes her to come to a halt, perhaps it is a certain word repeated again and again, and she is turning to stare at a slender blonde - And then the inspection has become something else.. Impression. Forget stabbing.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Sunkissed Shadows Gold Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

The weyrlingmaster seems to have barely made it to the edge of the sands, setting Kaylis and Grellith to the food, before he is hurrying back to Zilisa's side, giving a little bow to the chubby blue and his rider. "This way, Zilisa and Kurexith.. This way.." And the young woman is offered a steadying arm to the side of the sands.

A brief shudder claims the Blistering Bronze Brazier Egg, but the forces within it soon cease to move.

"He look a different blue. This one is so much different from the others. Are they all like this?" He asks a nearby candidate, only for them to not hear him as a dragon passes by. "Eh.. I'm going to ask about that later." He says, looking around at the others impressing. "So fast!" he marvels.
Royal Blue Hatchling sprawls a bit and streeetches now that hes decided to come out and grace the world with his presence. His slender form stretches out, forelegs splayed out in front of him, and claws at the sand a bit. Big yawn! Like hes just woken from a long slumber.

Eshaimik, about to reply, instead recoils alarmingly fast. Why? Because that gold hatchling is finding her way to his feet. Wait, what? He stumbles nearly over the hem of his robe, and then finds himself staring uncomprehendingly between her and Miarene. "… What?"

Dark Lord of Life and Death Bronze Hatchling slows as he draws nearer the candidates, eyeing each one with an attempt at seriousness that is ruined by the shifting dance that he maintains as his balance shifts from foot to foot, and he dismisses first one older boy, and then another, tail flicking at the knees of the second one as the candidate took a presumptuous step forward. Not the one.

When Blistering Bronze Brazier Egg moves again, it does so quite violently. It pitches to one side in a fit of impatience, sending broad cracks along its side.

Poor Eshaimik. Masticated doughnut ends up somewhere on him and Miarene is left wide-eyed and staring at the the dragon before her. "Of course you're hungry," is the young blonde's words, a hand reaching up to swipe away a smudge at the corner of her mouth. Cause that's entirely appropriate right after the dragon's new chosen rider vomited all over her friend "Yes, yes. Yes. Yes. Alisandreth. We're joined together." Dazed and having purged, Miarene is now knee down in the sands with her arms around the gold dragonet.

Like a terrible dervish bent on destroying all, the Metal and Masks Egg begins to spin. It flies violently apart, revealing a terrible visage - a dark green hatchling that lifts her voice in a blood-curdling shriek.

Drunk With Death And Destruction Green Hatchling
Tiny and dark, this green has a deceptively powerful build. Her physique is flawless, designed for a combination of strength and speed that ensure she's as dangerous on the ground as she is in the air. Her muzzle is sharp, her eyes keen, and her entire body is carved into harsh angles and sharp lines. Her neckridges are a series of serrations that saw down her back, while her claws are blue-black terrors to be reckoned with. Her tail is a terrible whip, long and thin and prone to assault. More striking is the color of her hide: she might as well be black for as dark as she is. The green of her hide is nearly impenetrable by light, though occasional flashes and glimpses of ghostly green might be spotted shifting and writhing over her form. There are places where the darkness breaks, most notably around the base of her neck - there, pale and ghastly globes of blue-tinged green lurk like a terrible necklace. Her wingsails, too, are marked, but the markings are equally horrific: a matching pair of pale blotches that evoke images of empty-eyed skulls.

Not far enough. Not far enough by far. Somehow, Eshaimik finds the front of his robe covered in what's left of Miarene's snack, and he retches like he's about to sympathy puke himself.

Dark Lord of Life and Death Bronze Hatchling finally pauses in his wanderings, though not before taking an awkward sidestep out of something less than savory, and this time even his feet become still, drawn by - why, nothing out of the ordinary. And certainly not by that smell. Nothing out of the ordinary indeed, and he stares up at a completely average young man before gently giving him a nudge. Not so ordinary now.. despite the smell. Please don't add to it?

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Dark Lord of Life and Death Bronze Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
It cannot wait. Not now. With a *hiss* and an explosive *POP*, Blistering Bronze Brazier Egg positively explodes to leave a massive bronze in its wake. The beast turns immediately on the shards of his shell in desperation and starts to chew on the fragments.

Sacrifice to the False Idol of Bronze Hatchling
Massive and bullish, this bronze is nothing short of a monster. His build is blocky and thick, with a short neck, broad chest, and wide haunches. With a squared muzzle, wide maw, and a perpetually pinched brow and eyeridges, he's an especially ominous-looking beast. Headknobs curl just a touch to the sides and out, reminiscent of horns of some sort. His tail is a narrow, whiplike thing - and it is dangerous. A heated hue of bronze spills over him, bright and perilous for its perfection. It's nearly white-hot at the tips of his wicked neckridges, rapidly cooling to charred darkness by the time it reaches his paws. Embers of red and gold swirl freely over his body, gathering along bunched muscle and dispersing in the shadows. His wings are luminous and near-golden, cast with a ruddy light. Cracks appear to have formed on the sails, though, exposing molten veins of white-gold that positively burn in the right light.

It is a young assistant weyrlingmaster who is making her way across the sands to Miarene, and she can't help but make a face as she draws close. "Don't worry, it happens to the best…" But, is that a good sign for the next weyrwoman? Motioning her to the side, she tries to smile. "There's food for Alisandreth off to the side, here…"

"That's a…" He turns to look at Eshaimik as the gold stops in front of Mia and him. He's happy that Mia's impressed "Ah, congrats!" He calls out to her. "Well done!" Stephane calls out to her.

Royal Blue Hatchling slithers over to the line of candidates, his tail whipping back and forth! This one? No This one? No Another hatchling gets close to him and he jumps back out of the way, his tail sweeping one of the younger candidates off their feet. The candidate lands on their behind, and starts to cry as one of the older candidates left pulls him back up to his feet.

Drunk With Death And Destruction Green Hatchling shrieks again and dashes forward, only to stop just short of the line of Candidates. Her maw gapes again, revealing her terrible teeth, but no further howl of challenge is made. No. She's chosen hers. A peaceful young lad named Shaivas steps forward to declare, "No more of that Mahakalivath. You have found your Sh'vas - and, together, let us find food."

Zi'on laughs. "I see. Listen, hatchings are stressful for me." They're not really. "And my weyrmate doesn't drink, and I didn't want to leave the bottle just sitting there. And we lost the stop someplace under the couch." He grins. "Off the gold, or her rider?"

Speechless with surprise, perhaps, Miarene can only quietly follow the assistant weyrlingmaster off to the side, reaching one hand out to touch the gold who comes with her.

And somewhere in the middle of trying to keep his own dinner down, Eshaimik finds himself staring into the swirly eyes of the purpled bronze hatchling. "''Dance''?" he squeaks out. "Qucimth—." But he's too busy just staring into those eyes to actually form a sentence.

"What *isn't* stressful for you?" Angharad glares at Zi'on, though the seriousness of her expression is definitely ruined by the fake beard on her face. "Both. Particularly the rider." Angry glare!

The weyrlingmaster has returned to Eshaimik's side, his face mimicking that which is assistant made just a short moment before. "Uh, this way. And we can get you cleaned up too… Though, it's not the worst you will deal with, that is for certain." A glance to the bronze, and the weyrlingmaster grins. "This way Qucimth…"

Sacrifice to the False Idol of Bronze Hatchling gives up on the shells and wheels about. With a bullish bellow of rage and hunger, he stampedes forward and into the midst of a small knot of Candidates. While the others scramble for safety, only one remains to withstand the starving creature's demands the young butcher named Bahalim, now B'alim, simply hooks a hand around one of the bronze's headknobs and grunts, "C'mon, Adramekhth. We'll get your gut full to bursting over here."

"Huh?" Stephane hears the crying and turns towards the movement of the blue and the sniffling candidate. "He fall?" He asks, turning to look back towards Esh to ask him. "Hey, … Oh." he offers, looking around. Few candidates left, and none of his friends it seems.

Royal Blue Hatchling moves along the line of candidates until bloop! His paw goes into a hole one of his clutchmates made in the sand earlier. How rude! Also, no one saw that! But whose feet are these? Legs torso Yes. This is the one hes been looking for! Right here. By the hole, of course.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Royal Blue Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Stephane turns back from Esh to turn face to face with a blue. Wait, how'd it… /he/… Sominath get there. "H..well? Hello Sominath. We're hungry aren't we?" He asks, rubbing his stomach. "And it's… well yeah." He seems lost for words. "Wow."

The young assistant weyrwoman has gotten the silent Mia off to the sands, and she is making her way back, motioning for Stephane - San - to follow her. "We can take care of that, if you want to come with me.."

With the last of the hatchlings Impressed, Angharad is glancing at Zi'on and stepping forward to give a talk. Opening her mouth, she starts, before she is quickly blushing and tugging the knitted beard off her face. "For those of you who found your life mate - Congratulations. For the rest of you, know that Ista can remain your home for as long as you wish. If you want to leave, please let me know, but you are welcome to stay."


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