Wherein candies are traumatized.
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.
People: Cenlia, O'zi, Delicious Candies
Dragons: Nziekilth Raonardoth
You See: An Egg Mound, A Malignant Mound of Malice, Moonless Night Egg, Corrugated Gord Egg, Miniature Mound of Mayhem, Rest in Pieces Egg, Paler Than Pale Egg, Deathly Cold Iron Egg, Sweet Deceptions Egg, Unliving The Final Nights Egg, Lurking Mound of Mischief, This Here Be An Egg Mound, Ninja Sandhold, Fortress D'Eggie Mound, Epic Sandhold Egg Mound, Smooshed Egg Mound, Little Lumpy Mound, DOOM.
It's the dead of night, when all the good little boys and girls should be safely tucked away in their beds. Except, of course, for a gaggle of Istan candidates, who've been marched off to the sands because, apparently, this is the ONLY time Nziekilth seems willing to let them near the clutch. So, sleepy-eyed and possibly a little terrified, the first few begin tpo trickle in, the assistant weyrlingmaster who brought them hanging back deliberately. C'dy isn't ABOUT to get any closer to the mounds ..and mounds of sandholds that may or may not contain eggs. Not with that monstrous gold looming RIGHT THERE, eyes already tinted red as she spies the first lot. RRRRRrrr.. Zeek rumbles, loud and low, hunched at the far end of the sands, still curled possessively around the largest and most elaborate mound, letting NO ONE near that one, though with her size, it would be a trivial thing to reach out and gobble somebody. If she were so inclined. Cenlia is off to the side, sprawled across the wooden platform over yonder, and looking about ready to curl up and snooze now. The sands themselves are a maze of dragon-crafted sandholds and towering mounds, though presumabl, there /are/ eggs under the odd structures. The AWLM, however, clears his throat, and stops the candidates before they can set foot anywhere near the mounds. Instead, he gathers them at the edge of the sands with a sharply barked, "Alright, Listen up!" Meanwhile, Cen is keeping half an eye on her lifemate, while muttering, "Sharding pain in the ass, this. Shoulda jus' dosed a chicken full of fellis." She pauses, considers this, considers Zeek's size, and amends, "A boat fulla chickens."
As if having the biggest gold on Pern glaring at them, was bad enough, there's the matter of one of the biggest bronzes on Pern that managed to catch her. You can almost hear the sands groaning under all the weight. Raonardoth is there as well, of course, finding a place near Zeek to pace for the moment, almost like a caged animal, even if he did leave the sands occasionally. At least he seems less inclined to /eat/ any of them, so far, though the moment there's movement at the foyer, he's fixing his whirling gaze on them. O'zi's probably taken a seat some where near Cenlia, looking just as tired. "Dip a whole coop full of chickens in fellis juice." He mutters, those poor poor chickens.
One of the poor hapless candidates stumbling out onto the stands still hasn't managed to pull himself together quite yet. Thick rimmed (not to mention the lenses) glasses are cockeyed on his face, one of the temples not quite managing to have made it behind his ear, instead is simply just pushing against his chunky cheek. Managing to squeeze himself into the line, there's a hasty attempt made to finish tucking in his beige button up shirt with thin bright green stripes at ninety degree angles. One tail has managed to escape in the back, but the stocky boy doesn't seem to have noticed.
One of the candidates is a decidedly mousy boy with a big puff of hair that he seems to dye a different color every sevenday. This time it's orange. Very orange. He stumbles a few feet into the caverns, eyes staring at Zeek as if she's just waiting to rise up and attack them. Swoop, nom! He'd be but a mouthful really. The line keeps him moving forward though, haltingly, but forward.
Lingering over at the edge of the sands is one of the older candidates, a woman in her mid twenties. She doesn't seem at all out of her element being dragged out of her bed, as wide awake as ever. In actual fact, she wasn't even /in/ bed, it seems almost as though Nakayna never sleeps. Nziekilth is /eyed/ very warily. "Cousin X /warned/ me about you." is murmured under her breath, though she doesn't expect the gold to hear.
"Good idea, that," Cen agrees, giving Oz a sort of tired half-nod, "Shards, let 'em marinate a week, could work…" Is she seriously considering drugging her dragon? Nziekilth tilts her stubble-jaw'd head to EYE Cen, giving a loud snort which echoes against the cavern walls. Shifting to swing that blocky muzzle about, she zeroes in on the candies. Mm, candies. Tasty candies. Paonardoth's pacing has her rustling her wings, as if to keep time with his steps, the massive gold commenting with a waft of whiskey and burnt toast « Them thangs better not mess up mah work. Else ah'm gonna send 'em flyin' outta 'ere wit red backsides! » Oh yeah, there have totally been rumors of Zeek actually whapping people off the sands. It might be why some of the dragonhealers and AWLMS have been looking so wary lately. And it probably doesn't help AT ALL that the gold cares not who hears her talking, boozed mindvoice broadcasting right across the hatching cavern and up into the galleries. the AWLM just stands there and.. cringes, tight expression turning stern as he glares down his nose at the gathered candidates. "/Right/, so I'm only going to say this /once/. Bow to the clutchparents, be -very- respectful, move slowly, and when the weyrwoman says leave, you /move/." Is he.. /trying/ to scare them? Dragons don't hurt people! Not /really/. Well. One can /hope/. "Alright, move out," C'dy gives the candies a nod, keeping to the edge of the sands himself, while Cenlia over there peers over, nose wrinkling, "Shards, guess I oughta make sure she don't step on nobody," getting to her feet and holding out the chilled wineskin to Oz, "Want some? Think we're gonna need it."
<OOC> Cenlia says, "Oh! So the only thing Zeek's not letting anyone near at all is Malignant Mound of Malice"
<OOC> Cenlia says, "all other objects on the sands are fair game to touch, even if it doesn't say they're eggs <.<"
<OOC> Cenlia says, "ICly, everything except DOOM is pretty buried XD"
<OOC> Shorynia says, "I love that the most obvious thing is the flame thrower"
<OOC> Cenlia figures Zeek thought it was badass, and wouldn't give it back >.>
<OOC> Shorynia says, "XD!"
Corbin, the mousy looking one with the orange hair, makes a big, sweeping bow to Zeek with a little bit of a flourish in the right hand as the left presses into his stomach, "Good evening to you, great queen." A few of the other candidates titter. The assumption that he's more interested in boys has already made its way well around the Weyr. He picks his feet carefully around the sandweyrs and sand holds until he spots something he's certain is an egg lurking in one of the sandholds through an opening and tentatively reaches one hand in to touch the PALER THAN PALE EGG.
Nelisard shuffles himself along the sands, a hand finally going up to move his glasses into place. "Owww" is muttered as he manages to snap himself behind the ear with the blasted things. Someone does /not/ do middle of the night very well. At least his pants are on, that's a very good thing. The teenage boy manages a clumsy bow to both dragons, glasses sliding down his nose with each ungainly bend. Finally he finds his way to a mound as small and lumpy as he is, reaching out a tentative hand then stopping. "You know… how are we supposed to touch them through a layer of sand? That's not how I read it works." Little Lumpy Mound gets a sample prod with one finger, it's halfhearted really.
Nakayna bobs her head at the AWLM's instructions, glancing to the mounds of sand. "mmhmm, yes sir." she murmurs, polite, but quiet. She's been here so many times. Not Ista specifically, but on the sands, as a candidate. Nziekilth presents a new obstacle, however. Not unusual for dragons to have favourite eggs, but it's hard to shake the feeling that /this/ dragon /would/ rend you limb from limb over a wrong move. Nziekilth just about /saying/ as much doesn't reassure her in the least, though there's barely a falter in her steps as the dragon booms in everyone's minds. She makes her way very carefully across the sands, /wincing/ at the sight of the smooshed mound over there, but it's the Rest in Pieces Egg she tries to find through the sand.
To Nelisard: As you poke the egg mound … your finger gets warm. That's pretty much it. Yep.
Raonardoth snorts, and sits on the sands, tail twitching behind him. « They better not hurt the eggs either. » He rumbles lowly, and /eyes/ the candidates. "You're going to have to dig through the sand." He answers Nelisard. "Just becareful not to harm the eggs." Though Faranth knows, being as buried as they are, they're probably pretty hard.
To Nakayna A great sense of peace suddenly flows over you, cold and still as the grave. In fact, the peace might be a little /too/ peaceful. Because suddenly, with a weight on your chest, you're utterly unable to move. Any attempt at such earns sluggish, screaming muscles, and there's this.. STENCH. Like something died and rotted into mold, and then got up and took a tour of a refuse pile. And on the back of your neck, the hairs all stand up, because as the sands around you face away into darkness, there is a /shuffling/ sound. And a moaan. And then, the ground all but swallows you, reaching up and clinging and clawing and- Oh HEY. Is Nziekilth glaring at you?
Nziekilth is just going to EYE the shapes starting to move amongst her and Rao's creations, the gold's eyes narrowing to burning red slits. RRRRRRrrr. That one there, the twenty-something woman, is peered at. Was she /talking/ just now? But then that fancy bowing boy over there is calling her.. « WUT didja jus' CALL ME? » huge head swinging around, to GLARE. « A'in't no- » which is just off with a snort as Cen snaps an, "Oy! Zeek! Leave off already." The gold hisses instead, spreading her wings and LOOMING. Oh yeah, she's totally enjoying this. Feel free to cower, little mortals! « Oh yea » Nziekilth pauses to agree with Rao « Better not mess them thangs up neither! Took f'revah t' bury 'em! » GLAARE. "Be careful not to mess up the sandholds, neither," Cenlia chimes in after O'zi's explanation, the girl rolling her eyes a bit.
"AUGH!" is let loose on instinct, as Nakayna scrambles backwards from the egg, quickly followed by a much quieter, "Sorry. Just… startled." she furrows her brow at Nziekilth slightly. "..did I do something wrong?" she wonders aloud, backing away from the egg mounds. Though… that really doesn't help. She trips on a miniature mound of sand, and falls on her back on the hot hot sands. Thankfully she was a bit away from the eggs by this point, so didn't fall on or even near any, but her very red face is glancing to the exit, and then back to Nziekilth.
Nelisard stares at his mound of sand and gives it another prod. He's told to dig by the a rider and stares for a moment longer before trying to dig his finger in a little more with sheer will. This doesn't last long as the boy positively twicthes with the gold's outbursts. "Wait… we're supposed to dig but can't mess the things up? " This is making no sense at all! Squatting down he peers into the hole he's made with his finger, but can't seen a darn thing.
To Nelsard: The sands are hot. The saaannnddsss are hoottt~~ And so is your finger now. But as far as you can see, there's no eggie under there. Or else it's just not in a talkative mood.
Corbin yelps, suddenly jumping back and just barely catching himself before he steps on one of the sandholds. Fearfilled eyes turn to Zeek, as if certain she'll bugle and yell and smash for such insolence. After a long moment of huffy breathing he straightens and turns, looking around for ah! an egg. This time his hand descends onto the CORRUGATED GORD EGG.
"Shards, y'alright?" Cenlia is off the platform and heading over to Nakayna, offering the woman a hand up if she needs it, "Might wanna watch where yer steppin'." Her words are wry, and her voice carries, likely meant for Corbin over there too, the girl spaing him a side glance. Cen's over here as much to keep Zeek's enormous nose away from the candidate, really, the goldrider bapping her lifemate on the snout with a, "Shove off already. Ain't done nothin' to mess it up," and waves vaguely till Zeek backs off. But she continues to rumble lowly, EYEING that one. EYE. And luckily, she's too preoccupied to notice one of the candies poking finger-holes in an egg mound. "Might as well stick yer hand on it," Cen calls over, moving back toward the platform, "Shardin' pain in the /ass/." That last meanty for Zeek, though the gold just growls, mouth opening juust slightly to reveal gigantic dragonteeth, a terribly malicious grin.
Nakayna looks utterly mortified when Cenlia heads over to help her up, but she nods quickly, biting her lip. "Fine, ma'am, just fine." There's a /look/ to that egg, equal parts horror and revulsion, but she's not about to /say/ anything of the sort in front of Nziekilth's rider, no sir. She has a brain in that sleepless head of hers. She dusts sand off, and glances around. Seeing that she's not immediately escorted off, she gives a shaky little smile, and moves over to a mound. The Lurking Mound of Mischief. Hands rest on the sand of the mound, not willing to dig deeper.
Corbin lets his hand trail along the surface of the corrugated gourd egg, feeling the gentle pulse of life within.
To Nakayna: It is warm. Veryvery warm. But then, so is the rest of the sands. Maybe there's no egg under there. Or it's a dud.
Cenlia plops back onto the platform, while eyeing her lifemate. Zeek continues to loom and menace the candidates, though there's some distracted snorting as Cen grabs the stopper of the wineskin, and lobs it across the sands at the gold. Score! "Bet I could hit Zeek'd butt," the jurnior weyrwoman asides to O'zi, giving the bronzer a crooked grin, "Got anything on ya I could throw?" Oh yeah, very professional sands behavior there. « Will kick yer butt, y'try 't » Nziekilth once again wafts whiskey and rye across the sands. Though at least now she's focusing on something other than the poor candies.
Nakayna exhales in… relief? Quite possibly. She closes her eyes and remains with the egg mound much longer than is really necessary. Eventually, she pushes herself to her feet - pushing palms against her knees, not the mound - and peers around for some other egg to venture a touch. It's the Sweet Deceptions Egg that she moves towards, eyes fixed on that, attempting to put the clutch parents out of mind. A hand goes to the shell, or as close as she can get, softly.
Nakayna sways slightly with the egg, and… is she humming? Perhaps. It doesn't last long though, her hum trails off mid-note, and her jaw tightens. "No." she states firmly, stepping away from the egg, though she's trembling and her face is white as a sheet, the firm calm in her voice only a facade. A quick bow is delivered to Nziekilth, and then Raonardoth, and then the candidate simply turns and walks off the sand. No more eggs to touch today! Though, is she heading off to try and sleep? Doubtful. Not after having /those/ things in her head.
O'zi frowns a bit as he watches the candidates, and then snerks. "I wish I did." He says about things that could be thrown. « Calm down, they aint stupid enough ta do anything. » Raonardoth rumbled, trying to be the voice of reason, though even he was glaring at the candidates. He moved to wrap his tail about the mounds they'd been more protecting.
Corbin straightens slowly with a soft frown at the egg, eyes casting about at the rest of the eggs and mounds and picking at his lip, which one, which one.
Cen straightens a bit, brow arching at the fleeing candidate. "Huh, remember them eggs was pretty weird when we touched 'em," remarked to Oz, "Zeek's was all.." Even now, turns later, the girl makes quite the face while recalling, "/Shards/, wouldn've thought she'd hatch out of /that/, but," and there's a half-sheepish shrug. And an almost wryly fond look sent to her dragon. Her dragon who is finally settling, telling Raonardoth boozedly « Them lot BETTER not mess wit nothin'- HEY! » And there is a ROAR, the gold's eyes going crimson. Nziekilth spots someone accidentally stepping a bit into the edge of an egg mound (that really flat one over yonder) and practically LUNGES across the sand. Cen, who was halfway to taking a sip of wine, /chokes/, sputtering a, "ZEEK!" Thankfully, said candidate has the good sense to FLEE, because the gold most definitely comes down where he'd been, just beside the egg mound. "OUT!" scrambling to her feet, Cen hollers, and like /that/ the sands are cleared of candies, AWLMs quickly ushering them back to the barracks as fast as they can. And any poor stragglers are definitely going to find themselves 'helped' out the proverbial door, courtesy of Nziekilth's lashing tail. At least she doesn't knock any of the mounds down herself. Because Faranth knows, the gold is pissed off enough as it is.
It's fortunate that most of the candidates don't need to be told twice, and quickly exit the sands, many leaving before Cen tells them to. O'zi groans, and slaps his forehead. "Oy, I wonder if we'll be able to get another touching done." He mutters. Raonardth hisses at that stragglers, and curls up protectively about a few mounds, though he'd move if Zeek wanted him to. « Good riddance. » He rumbles.
Cenlia, once she's done coughing up wine, groans as well, bringing a hand up to just rub her face. "Shards, Zeek, give 'em a heart attack why don'tcha." The goldrider sets the wineskin down, muttering to O'zi, "Shells, will be lucky if we can even get 'em out on the /sands/ fer the hatching." And she shoots Nziekilth a /look/. Zeek, though, seems terribly smug, rumble-hissing until the last of the intruders has scurried off the sands, and then very carefully nudging the displaced sand back into place. « THERE. Fixed 't » she announces to Raonardoth, wandering back over to curl up around the bronze. Hey, he might make a good pillow! « Yea, good shardin' RIDDANCE » she snorts in the direction the candidates went, faceted eyes quickly losing the traces of red and settling back into a less furious yellow-orange.
Raonardoth will happily be a pillow! « Looks good! » He rumbles. « Stupid candidate needs ta learn ta watch his feet. » He snorts. "Maybe the day of the hatching we make sure they both have a really big meal?" O'zi suggests, after all, eating usually made the dragons lazy, most of the time anyway. "Hmm, can we maybe put the candidates in the front rows of the galleries, and impress them that way?"
Nziekilth settles, sprawling where she is, head lazily plonked on Raonardoth. Woo pillow. « Yea, » she agrees with a snort, mindvoice wafting spiced rum for a moment « Next time, gonna LOSE them feet. » She might be joking, but Cen wouldn't bet on it. The goldrider just gives her lifemate an exasperated look, turning back to flop on the platform. Eyebrows go up, the girl telling O'zi, "That ain't a bad idea. Make sure both of 'em are fed good an' proper. Should 'least make 'em less.." pausing a second to eye the two gigantic shineys, "..likely t' eat somebody." Not that a dragon /would/, of course. But it never hurts to take precautions. There's a /snerk/ at the suggestion of impressing from the galleries, the goldrider tilting her head to peer at the various tiers of seats, "Shards, dunno. Figure Zeek ain't /that/ bad 'bout lettin' 'em near. 'Sides, hatchlings'll knock over them sandholds anyways." And Nziekilth is a lot of things, but she's probably not psychotic enough to go after her own babies.
