Opening the Geode

Seasonal Decoupage Egg
A childhood pleasure revisited: layer by gossamer layer, tissue-torn hue
transforms the egg's dull, newsprint gray into fragile festivity. Yellow and
green streamers swoop and spiral, softening the blunt pinecone contours,
fluttering about angular leaf-shapes lacquered all saffron and russet; fractal
cutouts, crystalline as snowflakes, intermingle with the softer arcs of
crocus and pansy petals. Throughout glitter minute sand-grains, smoothed to
safety within the varnish of glossy, glassy shell.

Hatch message:
Seasonal Decoupage Egg fragments layer by gossamer layer, flecks of shell
falling fragile and fractal as snowflakes; petal-like shards cling momentarily
to their dragonet's egg-slick hide, drifting in a glittering shower as she
spreads her wings for the very first time.

Unassuming Geode-Green Dragonet
Elemental wonder composes this dragonet's rugged, grey-green contours,
curving capability into the eager arch of neck, the flare of ribs. Smoothly
defined muscles convey haunches' resilient strength, shifting easily beneath
their veil of basalt-greyed beryl; that uneven camouflage extends even to the
precisely angled tips of her translucent wingsails. Only in winghooks and
talons does the pure sea-green shine through, echo of the complex geometries
of her crystalline gaze.

Impression message:
Eons seem to pass and with it a slow, temperate cooling, threading across
heated sands and through the roar of voices: protectively she wraps about
you, fresh as spring rain on a dusky summer's eve: » Mine! « And again,
with no camouflage between you now, together in crystalline purity and
infinite delight,
» My name is Elsveth! «

May we introduce to you… *drum roll!*

Oh, Madri, what a dragon you have!

Outwardly she is simple, perhaps plainbut in the beauty of symmetry
that balances unremarkable parts into an inimitable whole. She is compact
of build, her contours rounded rather than jutting, yet faintly rough in
grayed-green texture; she's strong, resilient, and with plenty of lung-room
for flying and warbling alike. Also, although she might tire more quickly
than her larger clutchmates, a short break will return her rarin' to go
will she ever!
In color, she's camouflaged, not obviously so but with a certain …
anonymity. (She'd be an undercover agent rather than a Marine, were it not
for her utter lack of deception!) Medium in tone as she's medium in size, her
hue's the sea-green of beryls — but those tones only shine through at
winghooks and talons, otherwise veiled by softly greyed basalt: appealing,
and yet unassuming, like a rock amongst the rest.
In her dragonet days she'll be a bit round of body, a smidge lumpy
and plumpish. However, that'll go as she grows into a sleek and
well-proportioned green. She'll be your average-sized green, pretty normal,
blending right in with a crowd of dragons — but that's all the better to
lurk, listen, and get a sense of what's going on: revel in the conversation
and just enjoy being there and Then she'll get swept up in the activity.
That camouflaged hide is /very/ sturdy, which requires slightly less oiling
than some but a lot more scrubbing; while it'll be harder to get those patchy
cracks, if she does get them, they'll also take longer to heal.
That hide will also help in keeping her resistant to the weather, for
weathering she'll do! Out and about and around (though always returning back
/home/). Imagine: 'WHAT? sit in the weyr when we can be winging across
Pern? Uh-unh, no way, up-up-up, let's go! Do you want to go? Are you sure
you don't want to?' Enthusiasm abounds; she'll try to wheedle at you, come
around the bush a couple of times to convince you that this is what she wants
to do. She's tricky, too, but so plain up-front and forward about it that
she's transparent. You can see what she wants, clear as day, and you'll do it
for her too, cause she deserves it. Welcome to trouble.
(Speaking of trouble; when she rises, she'll prefer straight flight,
which will tend to mean shorter flights, though when she's backed to the
wallwell, she'll use whatever agility she's got. No holds barred, that's
for sure! She'll have no innate preference for males of a particular color,
just whatever fits her mood at the time.)
She won't mind waiting about in the rain, in the snow, or in the sun.
Athletic, yeah. Weather is weather and she'll adore all of it — besides,
mud soothes itches, don't you know. Never mind what it does to your newly
crafted straps. Oh, and while we were talking about itching?
Itchy-itchy-itchy are the dragonets, and where does /she/ itch the most?
A-ha! On her belly. Get under there or, when she's grown, reach /up/ there
and scrach-scratch-scratch. And while you're there, maybe if you wouldn't
mind a little more to the right, down a bit
ooh, yeah, just /there/. She
likes having her belly scratched so much that she'll invite firelizards over
to do it in trade for a free meal when she feeds, and even finangle her way
into a position of slumber that invites it from a passersby. No
eyeridge-rubbing for /her/! It may take a while for her to learn to do this
maneuver, wings spread to the side, half rolled onto her back, legs in the
air, tail somewhere out in traffic. Of course the scratch is not as good as
when you're doing it, but then really in a pinch you have to compromise…
And besides, to her, this and any other odd position she finds
comfortable is the way to be when she listens to bedtime stories. /Bedtime
stories/?! Yep, she loves the sound of your physical and mental voice; it's
soothing to her, caressing, the perfect way to lull off to slumber. She might
outgrow this a bit; then again…

Her mental voice is smooth and fresh, like spring rain on a dusky
summer's eve. Low, quiet and reverberating, it might also be likened to
far-distant trains rumbling through a tunnel, or thunder on a hot summer
evening rolling over the hills down into a valley. Crystalline purity shines
likewise in her mental signature, catching and reflecting — and increasing —
any light, especially that of your own joy. She's visual too, though she
adds her own touch to images: maybe bringing into focus, gaining clarity, or
even shifting them a touch, but never distorting. No, she's an artist (hi
Ryuth) of the mind. Physically, were she human she'd sing contralto, though
rare occasions — though less rare, as a hatchling! — might bring on an
excited sopranino trill.

When I think of a geode I see a stone that is raw, plain, unassuming even,
but when turned over in your hands, the interior reveals the many minerals
that associate together within the cavity. It is here, when you take the time
to discover it, to delve inside, you find something that's very beautiful —
these internal crystals keep a captivating brightness that caresses the
sensibility of the human spirit. The geometric crystals in a geode are almost
always three-cornered, statalytes. Indians thought this represented an
intensity, sanctity and purity of the human spirit. A geode is a world cupped
in your hands, a new world to explore. Imagine, in your mind's eye,
spelunking on a dragon: winging through immense caverns where the outside
light is absent, but the inside light is that wonderful dusky, reflective
tone, filled with promise. You know her and she knows you, a geode complete
— but together, you'll always have another tunnel, another cavern to explore.
Remember your light.


Egg: Tr'vyn
Dragonet/Inspiration: Renna, Ariana, Arien, Taleya

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