March1999log

The World of Pern(tm) is copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967.
'The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.'
This is a recorded sesssion, online by permission of the author but generated
by Dragonsfire MOO on March 20, 1999 for the benefit of members unable to
attend.

The hatching of Fiona's Gyrfath and Gr'ym's Kolyath at DragonsFire's Fort Weyr
on March 20, 1999.

The beginning of the file is descriptions of eggs, dragons, and characters
involved. If you aren't interested in them, then just search for FortLC,
which begins some of the pre-hatching RP in the Fort Weyr Living Caverns.

Unfortunately, the candidate's clothing descriptions weren't captured.

Eggs present:
1. Faith and Science Egg 11. Faded Sunset Egg
2. Almost Real Egg 12. Gaudy Gaudi Egg
3. Kitschy Yard Ornament Egg 13. Protective Roman Decoration Egg
4. Ukrainian Easter Egg 14. Twisting Tessellations Egg
5. Photography Egg 15. Velvet Painting Egg
6. Blown Glass Egg 16. Illuminated Manuscript Egg
7. Cubism Sphere Egg 17. Neo-Classical Egg
8. Iconic Byzantine Egg 18. Ancient Mosaic Egg
9. Sanded Cartouche Egg 19. Overpaint Egg
10. Weathered Mediterranean Frieze Egg

Faith and Science Egg
It must have been fire that did it: that implacable color — all red and
orange and gold, kohl and rouge and scarlet-dyed sisal — singed beyond the
equator into a mere preliminary sketch of smoky chalk and gridded graphite,
a base of grays that smolders alone but in reflection shines.

Almost Real Egg
Foliage greens tease the eye; the mirage of lush tropics presents itself in
wistful smears of color over this egg's surface. Though mostly the
blue-white of swirling clouds' wispy trails, the egg's base presents an image
of vegetated hills, or heat-teasing green-blue oceanscapes. The faint
rippling of color only helps to confuse the senses: naught remains a
constant in this egg's world.

Kitschy Yard Ornament Egg
The generic perfection of plastic molds this gaudy egg, pressed smooth with
but the barest seam of roughness circling it lengthwise. Tacky-bright and
flamingo-pink, its colors range from near-red to pale pastel and back again,
swooping in a feathered pattern before plunging lock-kneed into the base's
grassy green. A black-stroked bill twists likewise down as if to peck, and
beady knobs glare at whoever dares the lawn.

Ukrainian Easter Egg
Bright colors and intricate patterns float in their myriad of possibilities
across this dark maroon-themed shell. Tradition seems emblazoned in every
geometrical — and not-quite-so ? pore. Floral decors and pencil-thin designs
of shapes, almost pictures, stand out in beiges and purples,
barely-hinted-at forest green, while jewel-stud lumps organize themselves
around the circumference. Like tradition, this egg seems unbreakable,
constant, a pillar in dire hours.

Photography Egg
The lines are bright, and shadows are clearly defined along the slick surface
of this ovoid. Although the elements are clear, the image is indistinct:
grays and blacks blend, meld, bend into whites and vanillas. Only the
vaguest sort of color stains the otherwise muted egg: a sepia blush infuses
only what otherwise would be the shell's brightest points. Dark and vaguely
ominous, it nestles quietly in the warm sand….waiting.

Blown Glass Egg

around the smooth and scintillating curves of the egg. Translucent, it
glows as light strikes the surface, visions of delicate violet and burgundy
lacework leaping to the eye in a moment of wonder. Where the arms of the
brilliant galaxy embrace, another nugget of color, this one crimson,
blossoms in a spiderweb nest of silver.

Cubism Sphere Egg
Almost-mosaic and not-quite mosaic blend together into a pattern of shifting
facets. Rose and indigo are the dominant hues on egg's surface, together
creating an image of vision from two points of view — side and front. The
slightest touches of other colors add detail, and decal, to sloping sides,
the illusion of squareness not quite — but almost — there.

Iconic Byzantine Egg
Illusory furrows of shadow and streaks of light interplay with polychromatic
crimson, violet, and cobalt to create the feel of lively and aggressive
coruscations in this determinedly orthodox egg. Patchworked ornamentation
projects the gloss of enamel and precious stones against the plainer putty of
shell in a perfect union of two natures.

Sanded Cartouche Egg
Not golden this egg, though almost so; the sands of time swirl, omnipresent,
around shell's perfection. The deep yellow-brown of desert dunes sets the
background for the faintest of gray etchings — chicken scratchings soon
washed away, but bearing up as long as pure culture can. In rows of
straight-edged patterns, names almost form, only to be brushed away under
another onslaught of time.

Weathered Mediterranean Frieze Egg
Crafted patches of bright calcium cavort over the figure of this large egg,
their pristine images heightened by bronzed details of musculature and
expression. Blackened edges give each form a separate province over which
to assert its own autonomy, to explore its own region with thin, gray
tentacles of miniature cracks. Though refined, sedate, and totally
innocuous, almost one hundred figures dance upon the dark shell, wanting
only for interpretation.

Faded Sunset Egg
Wisping, trailing, streaks of orange, yellow, and shades thereof color a
twinkling platinum shell. Silver, though, is barely discernible behind the
smoking, brighter elements. Faintly, oh so faintly!, smudges of blue and
purple hide in light shadows, and wherry-wing 'v's present themselves nearer
the base — all a tribute to a dying day.

Gaudy Gaudi Egg
Tangling vines at once defy and define the shell's broad-bellied architecture,
sliding sensuous brown shadows about stucco as yellow and undulant as
noonlit sand. Stars may only silhouette structure's protective symmetry, an
oval not unlike the others; it takes warmer light to tease out the
exhibitionist dimension, tasty snail-spirals that convolute into trompe
l'oeil hollows in which, in turn, swim scales of fishy, fissured iridescence.

Protective Roman Decoration Egg
Riotous color has faded to the muted tones of compatibility on the smooth
surface of this oblong ovoid. The haze that blurs the shades of saffron,
lime, and blueberry obscures whatever scene might lie beyond, even though a
thousand and one details can be picked out. There's a pinprick of sunshine
yellow here, a spray of sea-green there, but lines of granite gray shoot
across the egg in a seemingly haphazard fashion. Their sporadic
intersections form crude geometric shapes visible only from afar that only
lend to the overall unreality of the egg.

Twisting Tessellations Egg
Barely-etched lines of color skitter across this egg's surface, forming one
jumbled shape over and over again. Rounded curves and pointed angles leave no
distinct form whatsoever to this shape, yet a fleeting image of talons and
wings can be conjured by imagination alone. And no spaces are left between
the repeating shapes. By some miracle of nature — or, perhaps, chance — it
interlocks perfectly, fitting into itself like a leather glove. And it is not
bereft of color: checkerboard style, pastel blues and greens weave
themselves in.

Illuminated Manuscript Egg
Bands of green, blue and red seem to jump out from this large egg's smooth
shell, twisting into intricate patterns that braid and twine around each
easy curve. One twist of green could be grasses, and the wisp of brown that
follows them could be the slope of a runner's tail. Similar scenes of
avians, animals, and even forms that might be human play themselves out,
seemingly inked across the parchment surface in bright colors. Here and
there, sprinkles and accents of brilliant gold bring those scenes to life
with light.

Neo-Classical Egg
Blinding, brilliant white, with the faintest kiss of silvered haze, presents a
neat and geometric front, every curve and angle perfectly balanced.
Colorless, yet so much more than simply plain, the textured shadows play
havoc on centuries, breathing life into antiquated styles, revering the
shape but bleaching it into a new, clean, and ultimately /modern/ sphere.

Ancient Mosaic Egg
Weathered terra-cotta forms a rough-hewn pointillism; each tiny square of
color finds its place in the curvature of this egg's shell to build an
illusion of something altogether different. Erosive age has leeched —
bleached — the vibrancy from its porcelain tapestry, plundering the
pearlescent glazes and stripping the youthful blush from each stone to
render a bony pallor. But still, the phantom of that ancient design remains
— sketchy testament to the fading memory of a dream.

Overpaint Egg
Oh, it all seems smooth enough, steady enough, almost wallflowerishly easy with
its neighbors: its face is just a wash of taupe that drifts without demand
into the ho-hum white of an overcast sky, with a sweet, grass-green
pleasantry summing up an end. Perhaps in brighter light, that zipper of a
scar might show; the stubble, the bumps, the rough scrape underpinning such
thin neutrality; there's what's on the surface — and then there's how it
feels.

Gyrfath
Darkly damask, she's a lady with integrity—but one tuned to her own
swashbuckling ends. Nighttime gold smooths fluidly over slim bones and fine,
curved wingsails; the weave's shadowy designs pattern her underlying
richness, subtly feathered down the slope of neck and honeycombed along the
mainsails, while spinal ridges and ailerons seem runed with paler
candlelight. Disarming gentility's belied by the gleam of sparkling eyes,
and the swaying swagger that is her confident gait.
Gyrfath is 7 Turns, 5 months, and 5 days old.
As the sparrow, so the dove; as below, so above.

Kolyath
Saltillo fires the narrowly forged bronze of this lanky dragon, burning
brighter up his muzzle and his neck's spiky ridges, deeper into the mask
surrounding ever-changing eyes. Still darker rivulets of henna red crease
close-set wingbases and trace a daring tattoo across his wingsails; their
soft, dark, suggestive curves stretch to smooth arcs in flight, relieving the
stark geometry of his body. Rogue and fool, he takes nothing so seriously —
least of all the glittery burst of blue that sharpens his talons.
Kolyath is 7 Turns, 5 months, and 5 days old.

Fiona
Ash-white hair drifts in baby-fine feathers to this tiny woman's cheekbones,
pale beyond pale. Near-colorless eyes float, frameless, beneath her porcelain
brow, her light lashes, the blurry lines of feather and face. A drawn-bow
mouth, together with narrow shoulders and fine, tiny bones, make her appear
less like a woman than a child, less like a child than a doll. And she might
as well be made of light.
Upon Fiona's shoulder, brown and black unite in a complicated crisscross, the
brilliant gold woven among them to signify that Fi's all grown up and a
Junior Weyrwoman now.
Fiona is 21 Turns, 9 months, and 11 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.
As the sparrow, so the dove; as below, so above.

Gr'ym
Calm reserve is kept in the tall frame, broad shoulders, and slim hips of this
young man; his build is not the strongest, but it endures. Simple glasses
frame the cool logic of his blue eyes, and his velvet-dark hair — growing
out of a buzz — is a soft fluffy presence all over his head.
His overcomplicated Fort wingleader's knot is far too much in evidence on one
shoulder.
Gr'ym is 25 Turns, 6 months, and 22 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.

Caenis
Long, gangly, too big for his feet: Caenis is in that unfortunate stage of life
where nothing on him ever quite fits together. His ears stick out just a tad
too far so he wears his sandy hair long enough to cover them; however, he has
a tendency to brush the locks back as a nervous habit, tucking them behind
said over-large ears and thereby making them stick out more; his dark eyes
are wide, always, filling up most of his face; his legs are not only long
enough to reach from his waist to the ground, but more than they should be —
he isn't really all that tall, but his torso is shorter in comparison and
makes him seem disproportionate; finally, his shoulder width is immense,
showing, thankfully, a promise of eventually everything catching up to
everything else.
Caenis is 17 Turns, 9 months, and 22 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.

Jenara
A slim girl, average in height for her turns, glances back at you with
inquisitive grey-blue eyes the color of a stormy sea. Despite the fact that
her black hair is cut in a tomboyish crew cut, her delicate features are
decidedly feminine. Her steady posture and gaze connotes quiet determination,
her rich tan from a life at Southern Boll adding to this effect. However, the
playful smile she's wearing shows she's always ready fr some fun!
Jenara is 15 Turns, 8 months, and 26 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Vindanea
Such a somber girl, dark-complected, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and with such
fierce introspection etched in the line of her eyebrows and the grim set of
her small, slightly pouty mouth. Her hair rests in a touseled, curly bob,
trimmed above her ears, dark brown with moments of walnut luster, and the
deep-set eyes already have a tiny battle line drawn between their brows where
thoughts clash with thoughts in neurotic frenzy. Her nose has an aquiline
bend; the cheeks have the downy fullness that children's do; and she's as yet
androgynous of figure, with broad swimmer's shoulders and narrow hips.
Vindanea is 14 Turns, 3 months, and 14 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

Sissy
Long chestnut-brown hair is fixed in several haphazard braids which snake down
almost to her ankles, seeming to have a life of their own. Bright blue eyes
usually sparkle mischievously from under asymmetrical eyebrows and an old
broken nose makes all her features look a tad awry.
Only just edging on the tall side of average, her figure nevertheless reminds
one of a beanpole. And lately she seems even thinner than usual.
The off-centre impression she gives is accentuated by her black and brown knot,
with the candidate's white strand badly woven in. The knot is fixed
skew-whiff to her shoulder, threatening to fall off at any moment.
Sissy is 17 Turns, 9 months, and 25 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Carrying:
Ferret
Off at a tangent.

Magael
Wavy hair — brown, brown, brown — is kept neat and trimmed; cut back to show
every aspect of facial features, it perhaps would've been better to grow out
the thick, but untousled, hair. Not homely, yet not handsome in any sense,
genetics has seen him to have a high forehead, crooked nose, thin lips. His
narrow face is untouched by the sun, and overhanging, bushy eyebrows do
nothing to complement vibrant — if olive-y — eyes, deep-set and beady. Lank
and lean, his gait seems unsure and awkward — yet somehow nonchalant — and
limbs seem absent of any muscles.
The simple black, brown, and white knot of a Fortian candidate dangles from his
shoulder.
Magael is 18 Turns and 20 days old.
He is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Jules
her hair is an eye-catcher, its varying shades of auburn flowing like an
ocean's own waves; that shoulder-length mane curtains an oval,
olive-complected face remarkable only for the conflicting curiosity and
shyness in warm honey-brown eyes. Her other features balance out to suit her
inconspicuous, Harper-trained movements: slightly large nose versus slightly
small lips; broad shoulders complementing trim waist and softly rounded hips;
and a confortable average height.
Jules is 19 Turns, 8 months, and 22 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.

Arilynne
Amidst a waterfall of chestnut peers a pixie face, impishness etched from brow
to rosy quirking lips, a little too full for her narrow face. Wide, doe eyes
reflect brown then green then flash to a hue between, her mood easily
decipherable in the large, fringed pools. Lean, willowiness belies inner
strength of character and determination as well as exaccerbating her lack of
curves as she's thrust out of the comfort of childhood.
Arilynne is 15 Turns, 7 months, and 24 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

Naomi
A halo of fire-tinted hair frames her sparsely freckled face. Her eyes are
large in her face, and are a lovely shade of gray-green. Her hair hovers
around her shoulders lightly, small wisps floating away with a life of their
own as Naomi moves with her characterized awkward frace. Her personality can
be strange at times, unusual with her predictable oddness, with spells of
shyness and nuttiness in between her normal quiet, eccentric pleasantness.
Naomi is 22 Turns, 1 month, and 23 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 2 minutes.
She's happy with a kind of nervous, anxious waiting excitement.

Candra
Tall, though not unusually so, she's not the willowy type, but neither is she
an amazon. Well proportioned from head to ankle, her feet strive to be
different and are obviously too big. Warm brown eyes are an easy match for
her warm brown hair, though the latter is streaked here and there with sunlit
gold on its straight trip from crown to mid-back. A few wisps usually defy
her attempts of control to curl about her fair face and lightly freckled nose.
At her shoulder is a simple knot in black, brown, and white.
Candra is 15 Turns, 8 months, and 22 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

Jancent
There stands before you a tall boy, or perhaps man, who looks to be about
sixteen Turns. His facial features are strong, showing a determination not
often seen in the young, his back straight, his head held high. His piercing
hazel eyes are almost always serious. His dark brown hair flows freely back
from his face, framing it loosely. He is rather handsome, but he is modest,
his attitude evident in the way he carries himself, not one to start an
argument, but one to stand up for his cause through thick and thin. Not
overbearing, he does stick to his goal, be it to tame a runnerbeast or to
explain his viewpoint to another. His smile is the only showing of emotion
he allows himself, aside from his expressive eyes, so it can mean many
different things, but it is almost always pleasant.
Jancent is 17 Turns, 10 months, and 3 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.
Ack! Hatching! Help! *breathe in… breathe out…*

Ilaria
Ilaria's every motion seems to indicate a clutziness born into her, and honed
into high art in the years since her birth. Arms too long for her torso seem
to fly about randomly. Legs too gangly for her body seem to lurch with each
step, her too-large feet sliding and shuffling everywhere she goes, and yet
somehow still managing to find those /big/ stones that trip her up. Her
rather plain face reflects, however, a smiling sense of humor, a dignified
acceptance of the bumps and bruises and random embarrassments that her gift
has destined for her. Her light eyes seem always to sparkle, her thin lips
seem always to quirk upwards, and her hair…short, dark brown and
flyaway…seems the embodiment of laughter.
Ilaria is 16 Turns, 11 months, and 19 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.
Carrying:
Ilaria's songbook

Laih
Lethal curls bicker down around Laih's obstinate shoulders, sizzling and
sparkling in spectacle of buttery crimson flames. Jadeish mint and lime
sparkle randomly among spicy greenapple eyes, peering out from a crudely
formed yet cheerfully rosy face. Agility graces the small, lithe body with
prudent fingers and childish curiosity, creating a remarkable effect in a
young girl.
Laih is 14 Turns, 2 months, and 27 days old.
She is sleeping.
Frantic, stumbling frenzy.

Gretchen
Through the rattling angularity of sharp shoulders and hips, this black-skinned
woman maintains a loose-jointed ease about her movements. She's all deep
walnut from thick, ramrod-straight hair to hazy irises and velvety skin; only
the white of eyes and teeth escape the dark scathing, and that usually with a
smile.
Gretchen is 23 Turns, 11 months, and 2 days old.
She is sleeping.
The unending simplicity of a candidate's life has begun to wear on her, showing
in slightly drawn features and a generally listless manner.

Rhali
Brown, liquid eyes flash, a glimpse below the surface of this honey-haired,
quick-tongued girl. The mentioned hair does not sit obediently across her
shoulders- No, it's curly as a wild wherry's nest, frizz and all it bobs
about her chin with each skipping step. She's not stocky, just rather low to
the ground. A good center of gravity, the more polite would say. The less
polite would simply label her short. Full, smile-lined lips are blushed with
rosepetal hue, small freckled nose is swept with a slight upturn, and long,
curved brows accent the expressiveness of her rounded face. It's the
litheness with which she carries herself that defines Rhali, the thin hands
and how they lay, the tilt of her head, her trademark Cheshire grin- Marked
as a performer, heart and soul.
Rhali is 16 Turns, 2 months, and 15 days old.
She is sleeping.

[-FortLC-] Jenara has gotten her food and klah iand is munching contentedly.
She eyes the comotions between Caenis and Vindanea curiously before poking
Jules. "So whatcha going to do today" she asks.
[-FortLC-] Jenara enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Magael makes the same noise again, a soft, yet thoughtful, "Hm."
Then, he quiets, hunching over whatever he's written — something important,
given his immense concentration.

On the sands, B'nal walks in from the entrance.

[-FortLC-] Naomi nods casually, much revived from klah. "Sure, that would be
nice… except it's winter." She beams, teasingly. "You remember that,
Jules?"
[-FortLC-] Vindanea enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Caenis eyes Vindanea and her captive warily. "Um. Hi."
[-FortLC-] Magael, then, just as Jules comes on over, finishes marking on his
scrap — one, now, as the other's been filled with his words and tucked away.
"Hey," he greets the candidate, looking quite, quite satisfied with himself.
[-FortLC-] Candra watches the hustle and bustle of the caverns for a moment,
and then moves on to find something to eat. With a sandwich, redfruit and mug
of klah found, she finds a spot to sit and enjoy them.
[-FortLC-] Jancent reaches for the bowl in the center of the table to grab
himself a piece of redfruit. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a bite from
the fruit, glancing here and there as he hears snippets of conversation, but
overall relaxed, only preparing himself for the day's chores.
[-FortLC-] Jules isn't happy that she won't have a chance to see what it was
and will have to be content with his answer. "Oh? A letter? To whom may I
ask.." she's too nosy for her own good. To Jenara, "I'm going to try to stay
away from dragons today. I'm tired of having to help oil them."
[-FortLC-] Shem throws Vinnie a look. "See? It's /not/ his scarf." She
pinches him brutally.
[-FortLC-] "Give it back," Vinnie orders.
[-FortLC-] Denassa looks sagely at Shem. "Stealing's Bad." Even a
five-turn-old knows that.
[-FortLC-] Naomi shakes a finger at Shem. "If you keep stealing, you'll end up
in Bitra with no money, nothing but the clothes on your back, working as a
drudge and stealing marks and even bigger thingss!" she warns, mother-like.
[-FortLC-] Jenara giggles and nods. "Actually it's not that bad, at least you
get to /see/ dragons, not endless piles of dirty dishes." She glances about
the room again interested in the bustlings of all thses people before they
head off to chores.
[-FortLC-] N'fra enters from the Bowl.
[-FortLC-] Zephre enters from the Bowl.
[-FortLC-] Caenis looks around worridly. "I /would/ kinda like it back,
though."
[-FortLC-] Candra picks out a bit of meat from her sandwich and gives it to her
lap, well..feeds it to the 'lizard in her lap, but the table pretty much
hides him.
[-FortLC-] "My parents," says Magael, "so they'd know — everything. About
everything." Such a relief, this, and he slumps in his chair, leans back, and
— balances. Kinda. "And you know? I don't care, I think, about what they
think about the letter."
[-FortLC-] Shem throws Denassa the foulest look and pulls a crumpled silk scarf
with all the colors of sunset and a heart of stars out of his belt. He holds
it out toward Caenis, none the worse for wear if you don't count a little
sweat and a tiny, tiny mustard stain.
[-FortLC-] N'fra wanders, wanders, wanders. And worries, worries, worries.
Beads are in her hands, click-clacked faintly, before she continues inside,
oblivious to people.
[-FortLC-] Caenis all but snatches the scarf back, cradling it in his arms.
"This stain had /better/ come out," he almost growls.
[-FortLC-] Candra looks up, catching Magael's comment. "You've decided to tell
them?"
[-FortLC-] Cisusse emerges from the twisty tunnel.
[-FortLC-] Felassa enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Cisusse, lost as usual, scuttles through the bustle.
[-FortLC-] Cisusse heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Felassa says, "Hello, hello, quite a crowd…."
[-FortLC-] Jules sits down next to Magael, making room for Jenara as well. "A
letter to your parents? Didn't the know about you being here?"
[-FortLC-] Vindanea releases Shem in the roughneck way of someone playing
bad-cop-bad-cop instead of a more balanced pair. "Get your sharding butt
outta here," she orders, and apparently she has Shem so cowed that he
scurries away into the depths of the living cavern.
[-FortLC-] Jancent glances up as the Weyrlingmaster enters, an eyebrow quirking
at her apparent nervousness, but with a shrug he returns his attention to his
half-eaten redfruit and klah.
[-FortLC-] Felassa grins and rushes to pick up Denassa. "Hello there, darling!"
[-FortLC-] Magael looks Candra-wards, nodding sagely. "Yes. Because what would
it matter, anyway? Like they'd really come to get me. Now — if I could just
find some guy who's headed to Bitra." The latter part of his words are spoken
more to himself, though he does say, absently, to Jules: "No, not really."
[-FortLC-] Jenara smiles shyly at Felassa. She remebers seeing her round these
parts before.
[-FortLC-] N'fra blinks at Felassa's voice. "Hmm? A lot of…" Oh. There are a
lot of people. Hmm. Hadn't noticed when she walked in, before the woman takes
a chair. Click-clack-click-click-clack.
[-FortLC-] Felassa listens to Denassa babble on about her busy day.
[-FortLC-] Candra smiles over at him. "I'm glad you decided to."
[-FortLC-] Naomi sets the empty klah mug down, resting, enjoying the talking
with a quiet, sleepy calm. Not ready to move. Not ready. Not ready.
[-FortLC-] Caenis hurridly tucks the pretty scarf into his belt, offering
Vindanea a faint smile. "Thanks for getting it back."
[-FortLC-] Almira enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Magael tilts his head, raising his eyebrows to Candra, though he
does return the grin. "Really?"
[-FortLC-] Candra nods. "Not really a good thing to leave them in the dark
about."
[-FortLC-] Almira comes in and goes for some food, peering around to see who is
about that she knows.
[-FortLC-] Jules doesn't know all of what's going on with Magael and his family
so she decides to be quiet and feed herself on a cheese roll, washing it down
with milk.
[-FortLC-] Jenara accepts the open seat next to Jules nad sits down next to
her. "What's up with N'fra?" she asks her, "she looks a bit distracted."
[-FortLC-] Arien walks in.
[-FortLC-] Felassa says, "You okay, N'fra?" She nods to Denassa's continuing
monologue. "Really?"
[-FortLC-] Vindanea shrugs. All in a day's work on the latest episode of Fort
Weyr Blues. "No problem," she tells Caenis. "Now your sister won't get mad
at you."
[-FortLC-] Arien saunters in, gnawing idly on a fingerroot, with to all looks
and purposes not a care in the world.
[-FortLC-] Jules was too busy trying to find out about Magael, so she looks
around the cavern for N'fra. Watching her play with something in her hands
she says, "I don't know Jen..maybe she has something on her mind."
[-FortLC-] Moriel walks in.
[-FortLC-] Almira smiles to Arien as she comes in moving over to inquire, "Did
you find your little one Weyrwoman?" for she fled those dark tunnels before
any more creepy crawlies could get her.
[-FortLC-] N'fra pauses at that, worry beads stopped. "Hmm? Oh, I'm fine."
Really. She'd even reassure, though a hand — beads and all — wave toward
Arien. "Just fine, Felassa."
[-FortLC-] Naomi stands, taking her mug across the room to the hearth again.
She pours a third mug of klah (does she really need that?) and heads back to
her seat, sipping good, hot klah.
[-FortLC-] Jenara nods and takes another gulp of klah, "I'll say." She glances
over at Magael. "Hi don't think I've seen you around here too much."
[-FortLC-] Arien pauses to look at Almira, chewing; then once she's swallowed
agrees, "Aye. She's around here somewhere. Or she used to be. How's your
arm?"
[-FortLC-] Candra catches Arien's answer and sends a question her way, "Where
did you end up finding her?"
[-FortLC-] Zephre seems only slightly distracted, muttering to herself as she
pours hot water over tea near the hearth. Despite the muttering, she's got a
grin for the Candidates among others.
[-FortLC-] "Yeah, I guess," Magael replies to Candra, shrugging. Then, not
having much more to say on that, the deed done and everything, he nods
quickly to Jenara. "I've been here, there, everywhere around here — I'm
Magael."
[-FortLC-] Almira grins and holds out the hand to show, "Just fine after all
the blood got back into it."
[-FortLC-] Jules gets up from the table and says, "I'm getting some
tea..anybody else want any?"
[-FortLC-] Brakton enters from the Bowl.
[-FortLC-] Magael declines the offer. "No thanks, Jules."
[-FortLC-] Jenara waves, "Hi, I'm Jenara" and in the process spills a bit of
klh(klah)."Ahh! Did I get o(any on ya jules? I think most of it landed on the
bench" she says apologetically.
[-FortLC-] Arien eyes it, and offers to palm Almira's with her own; "Good,
/good/. Will you excuse me? I've got to — "
[-FortLC-] Felassa picks up a redfruit from the table and gives it to Denassa,
who munches on it happily.
[-FortLC-] There's a little girl, over there, and she's staring at Vinnie, just
looking and looking and looking with a face ever so pale.
[-FortLC-] Naomi gulps down her klah, and heads back into the caverns, intent
on snagging a few more winksor at least a restbefore somebody makes her
peel tubers.
[-FortLC-] Jules jumped to the side before she could get doused. "No, you
didn't Jen." she says with a grin. "I guess you'll be needing a refill then?"
[-FortLC-] Naomi heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Almira nods and OCOCOCOC raises a brw at the unfinished sentance, "I
hope yours is feeling alright as well." is offered as she goes back to
getting a mud og(mug of) tea.
[-FortLC-] Arien nods briefly, and out she slips.
[-FortLC-] Arien heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Jenara nodding sheepishly she holds out her cup for more. "Sorry
about that anyway. I think today is the day I'm gonna trya dn get out of some
of my chores, if you know what I mean." she confides in Jules in a soft voice.
[-FortLC-] Brakton slips through the crowd to get some klah from Harry.
[-FortLC-] Vindanea had been hiding herself discreetly in Caenis' shadow.
Being the big-sister type, she feels at least one and a half pangs of guilt
for losing Ardano the other day. She'd had the little girl in her sights for
most of the afternoon and then, suddenly, poof. She hadn't thought to go
looking.
[-FortLC-] Candra offers one more comment to Magael before returning to her
sandwich, "It's the right thing to do, at least."

Cisusse follows one of the staircases up.

[-FortLC-] Almira scoops up that mug and moves out to look for a seat, spying a
few familar faces as she waves to Jules and Vindanea… hmm, who else?
[-FortLC-] Jules takes Jenara's cup and whispers, "Don't worry…I'm doing that
myself!" She then gets up and moves over to the hearth, twisting to avoid the
crowd. Jules reaches for the hot water and smiles at a rider already there.
"Hello Zephre..how's the tea?"
[-FortLC-] Zephre tilts her head slightly, sipping her own mug, and offers
Jules the opinion, "Minty today. I like it." Perhaps not for everyone.
"Watch the hot water, though, it's almost boiling now."
[-FortLC-] Jenara glances thankfully in Jule's direction and quietly waits
listig to the murmur of other voices in the busy cavern.
[-FortLC-] Getting up, and taking the hides with him, Magael sets to plodding
cross-cavern — past Candra to say, "Probably so," — in search of some, any,
dragonrider to take the hide right then and there. He does find one
brownrider, willing only at the price of a half-mark. So, that handed over,
the dragonrider sets off. Magael's left standing there, thoughtful.
[-FortLC-] Rhia emerges from the twisty tunnel.
[-FortLC-] Jules likes mint too and helps herself to a large mug of it, but not
before covering the handle with a cloth to protect her hand. "Thanks
Zephre…How's Miyoth today?"
[-FortLC-] Aree emerges from the twisty tunnel.
[-FortLC-] Rhia heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Aree heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Jenara looks up at Magael, "A mark for your thoughts" she says,
trying to start some sort of conversation since everyone else is talking.

Rhia follows one of the staircases up.
Rhia knocks herself ont he head.
Rhia makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

[-FortLC-] Candra watches Magael pass by, and starts to say something until
Jenara asks something that'll do for her as well.
[-FortLC-] N'fra gets to her feet, before wandering over to Felassa, settling
right by her. Sit. Silence. Clacking beads.
[-FortLC-] Zephre becomes momentarily animated, "She's chatty today. I think
she's plotting something, but it's hard to get her to spill the story until
she's ready." Zeph turns to peer out toward the bowl for a moment, then
shrugs. All will become clear eventually. "How are you?"
[-FortLC-] Almira peers about and finds a seat some where, the cavern so busy
this time of day, so there she sits with her tea. Curiously though, she looks
around to watch people as they eat and converse.
[-FortLC-] Magael drifts back towards his table, back towards Jenara, catching
her comment. Grinning, he says, "I could use one, seeing as I just gave a
half-mark away." After having dropped back into his chair, he says, "I was
thinking about the letter. Nothing much. Nothing important."
[-FortLC-] Candra says, "Sure its important, Magael. You had been trying to
decide for quite a while what to do about it."
[-FortLC-] "I feel kind of achy today, don't know why." Jules complains. Must
be the cot with it's multiple 'lizard lumps taking up the good spots.
[-FortLC-] Jenara grins and then looks more somber, "Your parents or something?
Will they be here for the hathcing, I've heard the eggs are supposed to crack
anyday now."

On the sands, Kh'rys walks in.

[-FortLC-] Jules pours another mug out for Jenara and asks Zephre, "Do you want
more?"
[-FortLC-] Virrien emerges from the twisty tunnel.
[-FortLC-] Magael directs to Candra, tsking, "Must you *always* be so —
accurate?" But, that's dismissed; he answers Jenara: "I don't know, they
could be. Depends when it is."

Humperdink follows one of the staircases up.

[-FortLC-] Virrien heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Brakton is sipping his klah, slowly, intent on the conversations.
[-FortLC-] Jancent, from his table, sips a bit from his mug after having drawn
out needle, thread, and a rider's torn clothes from his everpresent sack. He
is busily at work, apparently trying to make himself useful until he finishes
his klah and can get out and do some manual labor..
[-FortLC-] Zephre holds out her mug, "Certainly. Thank you. You know, the
healers make a fabulous lotion for aches, it comes in handy ecially for
pressure-bruises." Like those from riding straps. "If you keep feeling achy
you might try some."
[-FortLC-] Jenara nods and c(accepts) this. "My father'll be coming, I cna't
wait to see him, I've really missed him."
[-FortLC-] Candra smiles at that. "I wish I were." She tucks it all away for
later, however. She'll corner him and be a pest.
[-FortLC-] Magael merely nods — both to Candra and Jenara — and says no more,
not much for life stories or the like right here, right now. No, for him,
just relaxation: he's in no hurry to get back to chores.

On the sands, Almost Real Egg shakes, just a bit.

[-FortLC-] "They'll let me have some? That'll be great..thanks Zephre! " Jules
finishes pouring the tea for Jenara, then refreshes Zephre's cup. Moving away
from her with a smile, she heads back to the table where Jenara's sitting.

Cisusse squirms, casting a suspicious glance up the tiers and down. "Hmm," she
supposes, wandering farther along. Is the coast clear?

[-FortLC-] Jenara looks up at the smell of klah. "Oh thanks Jules" she says
gratefully accepting the steaming mug.
[-FortLC-] Arilynne enters from the lower caverns.

On the sands, Overpaint Egg quivers. Once.

[-FortLC-] Candra finishes off her sandwich, though saving one last bit of
wherry for her little Boots. She smiles as she watches him take his time with
it, already fairly full. His tiny white teeth nipping off bite after bite.

On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg stays mum, keeping its secrets to itself.
On the sands, Aurorica rocks too. Who'dve thunk it?
On the sands, Kolyath does the funky chicken.

[-FortLC-] Arilynne wanders up through the darkened tunnels, grime streaking
across one cheek and the tip of her nose. Tummy rumbling, she collapses into
a chair and bats her eyelashes at her fellow candidates. "Oooh, I'm /so/
hungry," she whines pathetically.
[-FortLC-] Moriel releases Riker, who launches into the air.
[-FortLC-] Vindanea clears her throat to be heard over the din of so many
people. "Hey, Jules?"
[-FortLC-] Riker heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] "So eat?" Magael suggests cutely, grinning to Arilynne.
[-FortLC-] N'fra hmms softly, before pausing. "What….?" A glance to the bowl,
brows furrowing. That wasn't…. uh huh.
[-FortLC-] Zephre snaps her head around and starts off into the bowl, without a
word, just a shake of her head.
[-FortLC-] Zephre heads out into the immense bowl.
[searchFW] B'nal grins. Shall I set the party message?
[-FortLC-] Jenara spots Arilynne across the cavern. "Hey, she calls, "Come get
some hot klah and food in your belly. There's plenty left."
[-FortLC-] Felassa says, "Is that someone's stomach rumbling?"

On the sands, Zephre walks in from the entrance.

[-FortLC-] Arilynne wrinkles her nose and ignores Magael's cuteness. "I
would," she sighs melodramatically. "But I'm oh so tired. I don't think I
could make it to the table and back." Ergo, Aril's looking for cheap slave
labor. Any takers?
[-FortLC-] N'fra shakes her head, as she gets to her feet. "Okay, candidates!
To the barracks! Get moving, the eggs are egging ready to hatch." Where'd the
worrier go?

On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg tests
Rhia follows one of the staircases up.
Virrien walks in.

[-FortLC-] Felassa blinks and gets to her feet. Distantly you can hear
something… "Right, up, up up! Let's go! Candidates, Barracks! Everyone
else… go someplace else!"
[-FortLC-] Arilynne nods Felassa's direction and tries to look pathetic and
sad… until eggs are mentioned. "Eggs? Hatching? Now?" she adds with a
screech before popping up, no longer tired and lazy. Amazing what eggs can
do for a person.
[-FortLC-] Vindanea looks stunned. Then the hustle-bustle attitude of a
Weyrbrat takes over, and she hastens toward the barracks.
[-FortLC-] Candra starts to offer to get Arilynne something, and then blinks in
surprise at N'fra. "Huh?"

Aree follows one of the staircases up.

[-FortLC-] Vindanea heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Arilynne heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Almira sits up from her lounging and just looks, "Eggs are egging?"
each candidtate is peered at from where she sits, "wow."

Rhia nervously finds a seat, and beckons Aree to come and join her. "Were you
here for the clutching?" she asks in a low voice.

[-FortLC-] Moriel heads out into the immense bowl.
[-FortLC-] Jancent, hearing N'fra's call, looks about, eyes widening as it
sinks in, and his breath catches in his throat, "What? /Now/?" He rises
slowly, absently leaving klah and redfruit rind on the table and jogging
towards the barracks.
[-FortLC-] Jules looks up at Vinnie. "Yeah?"
[-FortLC-] Caenis heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Jancent heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] "Come on… you heard me. Get going." N'fra shoos a lad along,
taking the tray he was carrying. "Get to the barracks and get your robes on."
[-FortLC-] Candra gets to her feet and automatically follows the rest.
[-FortLC-] Candra heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Jenara starts up from her thoughts, "Why's everyone moving so
fast..wait did someone say hatching? What now.." she surns to Jules for her
lead.

G'briel walks in.
Moriel follows one of the staircases up.

[-FortLC-] Felassa grabs a slow-moving Candie and shoves him in the right
direction.
[-FortLC-] Jenara heads into the lower caverns.

Rh'esh walks in.
Zebadiah walks in.

[-FortLC-] Magael stays rooted into place — until, that is, N'fra gives him a
reason to jump to his feet, glance around in some confusion, then stutter
some protest about how his letter wouldn't have been delivered yet and, oh
dear, what if his parents do come? In all this, he moves barracks-wards.
[-FortLC-] Magael heads into the lower caverns.

Aree shakes her head as she makes her way over to Rhia, "No, I wasn't. were
you?"

[-FortLC-] "Come on Jen! It;s time!"
[-FortLC-] Rhali shivers from tip to toe, currents of sound and movement
lighting

G'briel wanders in with Rh'esh, slapping his gloves against one thigh as he
looks about for a seat "See one?" he queries of the bronze rider. "I want to
be able to watch Ari without having to work too hard."

[-FortLC-] Jules heads into the lower caverns.

Zebadiah sits next to his *old* friend from Ista Nicki.

[-FortLC-] Rhali shivers from tip to toe, currents of sound and movement
lighting her eyes. It's music in the rawest sense, and it swells with the
pulse in her veins. "Humming It's coming, humming it's coming. Music, Oh yes,
this is the music." Lids flicker closed for a moment, and a smile surfaces.
[-FortLC-] Felassa heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Brakton heads into the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Brakton enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Brakton trundles down the tunnel that leads out of the Weyr.
[-FortLC-] N'fra heads into the lower caverns.

Rhia nods. "Yep. Or rather, I was here for part of it. I wonder which eggs will
hatch which colors?" she muses.

[-FortLC-] Brakton emerges from the twisty tunnel.
[-FortLC-] Almira heads out into the immense bowl.

Almira follows one of the staircases up.

[-FortLC-] Brakton heads up the imposing flight of stairs.
[-FortLC-] Brakton heads down from the kitchen, accompanied by an appetizing
breeze.
[-FortLC-] Brakton heads out into the immense bowl.

Brakton follows one of the staircases up.
Rh'esh steps in with G'briel, also looking for a seat. "There's a couple, not
far from the rail, either." Well, comparitively speaking.
Cisusse tugs at the collar that hugs her neck solidly, coughing irritation with
a youthful scowl. "Furr-ee," she whines, directed /at/ the second Enlander
girl, but not /to/ her.

Up on the ledges, Ysaleth lands with a light touch, arranging herself
comfortably.

Aree sits doawn in a seat next to Rhia and nods, "HAve any guesses?"
G'briel nods, noting the direction, and makes his way, settling comfortably
after bypassing a gaggle of smiths "S'cuse me" he murmurs to this burly
crowd, eyeing them speculatively and nudging over on the bench to make room
for Rh'esh.
Rhia wavies to Brakton. "Hiya, Brakton! Have you gotten any nicer since that
last time I saw oyu?" Attention back at Aree with a shrug. "I dunno. With my
luick, all of my gusses will be /completely/ wrong!"
Almira comes in looking excited, this hole thing being something new to her.
She moves down ito the stands, looking for a good seat, though nobody looks
all to familar.
Brakton waves back, "Oh, no, I'm still a big fat jerk."
Rhia sighs in disappiontement. "That's not very nice. yUO should reform."
Aree turns and whispers to Rhia, "Who's that?"
Brakton says, "Reform, after all these years? It's just me."
Rh'esh tugs off his riding gloves, glancing up at Syrth on the landing ledge
before settling beside G'briel among the group of Smiths. "I still can't
believe Arilynne is a candidate now. I remember when we were both living at
Fort Hold… and it wasn't that long ago, either."
Rhia whispers back, "He's Lord Brakton of High Reaches, currently on a vacation
to Southern Boll. I met him in the Passionfruit Pit."
Nicki smiles at Zebadiah as they sit down, "And it's warmer always there."
Virrien directs a pout to Cisusse, making her way over to her friend. "You
left me in the wagon by myself." She hisses back in answer to the 'Furr-ee'
greeting.
Zebadiah nods. "that it is."

On the sands, B'nal gingerly heads across the burning sands towards the exit.

[-FortLC-] B'nal enters from the Bowl.

Moriel Leans forward, peering eagerly at the sands!

[-FortLC-] B'nal heads in at a dead run.
[-FortLC-] B'nal heads into the lower caverns.

Cisusse ignores Virrien's hiss. If you can't call somebody their name— "You
aren't a /baby/," she huffs. "Besides. You were too slow." Crossed arms
preceed her. "Let's sit… here."
Aree whispers to Rhia, "Really? I must be spending to much time in the stables,
I've never seen him there. "

On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg shudders, softly, and then is still.
On the sands, Kitschy Yard Ornament Egg is immobile but yet… aware. Glare,
glare, glare.

Buroughs walks in.
Rhia nods. "He's pretty new, I think. I guess that the stress of being evil
just got too high for him."
Brianna walks in.
Cartha walks in.
Brakton sits in a convenient seat.
Rhia waves at Cartha. "Hello, Cartha!"
Aree puts her hand over her mouth to try and hide a giggle.

On the sands, Fiona lifts herself up, moves over there, to that spot by
Kolyath, the one she goes to when she needs to be just herself. Her children.
Their children. Right about now.
On the sands, Gyrfath lifts herself up, moves over there, to that spot by
Kolyath, the one she goes to when she needs to be just herself. Her children.
Their children. Right about now.

[-FortLC-] Ericaine starts paying attention again.
[-FortLC-] Ericaine has connected.

Virrien obediantly drops into the seat beside Cisusse, having made her way
'mong more feet and people with a few mumbled "'Scuse me's". "Of course I'm
not. I'm older than you. And I wasn't, I was just trying to find my boot.
It's too cold out." She replies, rearranging legs. "Here."

On the sands, Blown Glass Eggshimmers.. shimmies? shines.

G'briel smiles "Seems you have something very much in common then. The dragons
find you worthy." He flicks a look at the bronze as well…."Thanks for the
ride, by the by. It seemed heartless to wake Llawenth…she has been in a
mood of late. I think she is becoming a bit glowy, too." He relaxes back,
"So…what color will Ari get, do you think?"
Cartha smiles at Rhia and wavess. "Is this seat taken?"
Rhia shakes her head. "Nope. Not at all." She gestures to Aree. "Have you met
my friend, Aree?" she asks.

[-FortLC-] Ericaine walks out.

Ericaine walks in.

On the sands, B'nal steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Jancent steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Vindanea steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Naomi steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Gretchen steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Adara steps onto the sands, frowning slightly. "And I thought
the sands were hot as a Candidate," she murmurs as she hops across to sand
near the Weyrwoman. More seriously, she bows to both dam and sire. She
might not be a Candidate now, but she's still respectful.
On the sands, Jenara steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Rhali steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Candra steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Magael steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Sissy steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Arilynne steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Fiona smiles Adara-wards. "You get used to it." She herself has
gotten used to the relative comfort of the thick carpets beneath her cot,
and, well, she's fidgeting a little herself.
On the sands, Kolyath endeavors to tuck his head under one of Gyrfath's wings,
his tail curled up taut behind that hind left leg. He can see it behind each
eyelid already; he just doesn't want to look.
On the sands, Ilaria steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Cartha sinks gratefully into the seat. "No I don't think I've met Aree. "
OOC: Sorry Massive Lag!
Rhia gets up, just for a moment. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she yessl,
"GO JENARA!!!"

On the sands, Jules steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, Laih steps onto the Sands and finds a place.
On the sands, B'nal marches out in all his new assistant weyrlingmaster
authority, leading the candidates. He stops to bow to Gyrfath, hesitates,
nods at Kolyath and his rider, then moves aside.
On the sands, Caenis steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Cisusse slumps, lacking a decent arguement. "I /know/," she drawls. "You
always tell me you're older. A million times a day. A—" Amber eyes take
in the Sands. "Look! What're those people doin' out there, Furry?"
Rhia screams again, "GO LAIH!!!"
On the sands, N'fra steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

On the sands, Candra chews her lower lip nervously as she comes out with the
rest. She gives an akward curtsey to the dragons and riders alike, made more
awkward by having somone holding to each of her hands.
On the sands, "Eep!" Naomi cries out as she touches sand. "That's hot."
Tip-toeing across the sands, she finds a place, and stares out at the eggs.
Impatiently.

Rh'esh mms softly at his weyrmate's question. "Well, I think she might make a
good greenrider." Rh'esh's personal preference. "Oh look, there they are!
And there's Arilynne!" He elbows G'briel gently in the side. "And yes,
Llawenth is looking a bit glowy. Syrth's muttering that he can't sleep at
night because of her." He winks.

On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg ripples, shifts, looking less-than-solid in
the incredible heat— but then it's still. Yes. For now.
On the sands, Gretchen weedles on to the sands, lost in the candidates; there's
no over-confident saunter this time, just something unsure as she walks out
and, hoping she might be noticed, takes a small bow — a theatre bow,
actually, with bent leg beind herself.
On the sands, As every performer at every performance does, Rhali sweeps a bow
or two bows. Gyrfath in all her motherly radiance and her mate, then to the
assembly of Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. The carved dragon snout receives a
fleeting stroke as she proceeds. Luck, fate, or simply smelling just right-
Rhali needs all she can get.
On the sands, Jenara scoots in between Jules and Sissy and blushes and
remembers to go back and bow to Gyrfath and kolyath. Her face is terribly red
at this mistake.
On the sands, Naomi remembers, last-minute, to bow to dragon mummy, dragon
daddy. The heat has gotten to her already!
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg twitches, moving in place, before coming to a
sudden still.
On the sands, Jancent moves almost stiffly onto the sands, trying to keep his
steps even but failing in light of the /heat/ coming from beneath. Taking a
breath, he pauses to bow solemnly to Gyrfath, Kolyath, and their respective
riders, another deep breath taken as he moves to his place.
On the sands, Overpaint Egg shifts restlessly, and a bit of that veneer flakes
off.
On the sands, Jules is still holding onto Jenara's hand and does her duty to
Queen and Sire, bowing deeply.
On the sands, Oh, there's that large boy candidate. What was his name, anyway?
Well, in any case, he's wearing Ilaria's robe, and it is as small on him as
his is large on her. She tugs at the neckline, pulling it down. Oops, no,
let's pull it /up/.
On the sands, Caenis stays right close to Arilynne, prior qualms with his
fellow forgotten. He bows, primly, to dam and sire, then takes his place in
the line.
On the sands, Arilynne follows Sissy and Magael onto the hot Sands, and letting
go of Caenis' hand just long enough to sketch a bow to dam and sire, she does
so with flourish. Of course, unbeknownst to her, it gives those behind her a
rather nice glimpse of flesh and the purple covering it.

G'briel chuckles, one arm wrapping around Rh'esh's shoulders as he leans
forward, cheering for Arilynne "Green, hmm? Do I have competition for your
affections then?" he teases, and shakes his head "yes…she's restless. Of
course, that could be for other reasons." And he winks at the bronze rider
knowingly.

On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg rustles; or, at least, the grains of sand around
it do. Maybe it's due to that Neo-Classical Egg, right nearby — and maybe
not.
On the sands, Gyrfath watches them, all the little candidates, all the little
eggs. Is that calculation in her eyes?
On the sands, Adara smiles at Fiona, then pats the pouch at her side. "Well,
should anything untoward happen, I'll be ready. Hot, but ready," she quips
with another grin before watching the hopefuls come out to the spam.
On the sands, Clasping the hand as hard as she possibly can, Laih takes a deep
breath and winces, the heat of the sands rushing to her face is a yelp is
withheld; eyeing the eggs, she glances at the gold and immediately gives a
polite bow.

Virrien giggles, smothering slight laughter into her hand before sending a blue
orbed glance flickering sand-wards. "Uh.." Brilliant conversationist.
"They're Candidates. It's a hatching."

On the sands, Sissy's gone all stiffened up - drat these nerves - but remembers
to make at least a nod in the dragons' direction before settling into te
semi-cirle that's forming.
On the sands, Vindanea takes a moment to focus and to try to ignore the icy
sweatiness of her palms. She inclines her head, just enough, to Gyrfath and
Kolyath, and lets the shape of the latter draw her gaze to Gr'ym. It's only
Gr'ym after all. That's a huge relief.
On the sands, Gr'ym chuckles a little bit, a little edgily, hanging back with
his dragon, coaxing the tense tail slack again. "C'mon, look cool, they're
bowing."
On the sands, Fiona nods indulgently, distractedly, "Yes."
On the sands, Kitschy Yard Ornament Egg twitches, now. Not a shudder, not a
ripple: a /twitch/, a jerk, and then… it's gone.
On the sands, N'fra steps out, worry beads put away, hands settling into her
pockets. She watches the candidates for a moment, before nodding. Good,
good… so far, so good.
On the sands, Magael stays close to Candra, linked by a hand-hold, and does
some form of a bow — nothing too dramatic, just quite simple: for Gyrfath,
Kolyath, riders, and eggs. Then, trying not to look to obvious at gulping, he
patters into that loose semi-circle that's forming.
On the sands, Rhali glances, smirks and smiles. She's lit up like a Christmas
tree in a power surge. All flickering emotions and dancing eyes. A nearby had
is seized and squeezed, now subject to Rha's emotional outbursts. Fun. Ouch.
On the sands, And now for the bow, the dying swan that Ilaria performs so well.
Looking poisoned, slowly, she executes that special little gesture, nearly
losing her robe in the process. /Up/ it goes again, before baring /too/ much,
and Ilaria squeezes handsful of extra material and shuffles to join the
others.

Rh'esh smiles wryly at G'briel, but admits nothing. "No more than I'm
competing with T'var for your affections," he answers, then turns back to
Arilynne. "My… what an odd robe. It almost looks like a… Healer's
gown?" Typical, just typical.

On the sands, Illuminated Manuscript Egg is still, but for the rippling of its
never-ceasing patterns in the heat.
On the sands, Almost Real Egg twists in its own little spot in the sand, mirage
rippling just a bit. Soon, it's once again still, sitting in the warm bed it
has become so familiar with.
On the sands, Arien, on the sands' edge, paces: around, around, about, now and
again kicking at the so-innocent dunes with one high-laced boot.
On the sands, Candra trundles to a stop somewhere in that semi-circle, giving
both Magael's and Laih's hands a squeeze, though the one in Laih's grip just
might be loosing circulation.
On the sands, Gretchen then seeks someone out, someone she knows — or,
realizing that now is not the right time for avowals of friendship, she
slowly steps away, by herself; and crosses her arms across her chest,
looking. Looking. Watching.
On the sands, Jancent, from his place, watches nervously as the other
Candidates do their duties, then eyes dart to the eggs as they— they move!
Jaw goes slightly slack, but he knew this would happen, and he takes yet
another breath, shifting uncomfortably on heated feet.
On the sands, Jenara yawns and slips quietly to bed.
On the sands, Jenara has disconnected.
On the sands, Jules tugs at Jenara before releasing her hand and spreads out as
instructed to do so. Her eyes go wide as the eggs do a dance, something she's
not seen before this close
On the sands, Arilynne scooches closer to Caenis, not wanting to get lost in
the crowd. Whether she's with her fello candidate for support or in hopes
that Caenis will fumble and somehow make her look good, even Aril's not sure
of that answer. But one things certain, she's sticking to him like glue.

A little girl, on the galleries' edge, looks down at her mother; and then, to
her half-sister, the white-robed candidate. If she can see, from up here. So
far up.
Cisusse pushes her behind off the seat, chin craned to see over those people
who /dare/ to sit in front of her. "What're—" Sleeves are tugged at;
Virrien is peeked nervously at. "Oh." Not that actually understands.

On the sands, Barely feeling the squeeze for her grasp, Laih slacks off a bit;
wouldn't want to give Candra a crimson hand, would she? Even if it's already
too late. Not daring words, she peers about, a bit amazed at how the eggs
spring to life.
On the sands, Blown Glass Egg weeble-wobbles but doesn't, of course, fall down.
On the sands, No shuffling from foot to foot for Rhali, nope. The crowd's eyes
are on her! Well, on the eggs, mostly, but the principles the same. Head up!
Back straight! Smile!

G'briel smiles at that "No, Rh'esh…no competition there." he murmurs with
assurance. "Still, if Arilynne does impress, that could be
very…interesting." To say the leaste.

On the sands, Caenis is all for that glue thing — on hand reaches out to grip
Arilynne's, the other fiddles with the bit of fabric tucked under his belt.
On the sands, And Doyce, well, so what if she's a little late? The dragons will
/wait/, especially that special one who's just for her. Smugly, she steps
onto the Sands, not a hair out of place. Really.
On the sands, Naomi hops from foot to foot in the age-old candidate sand dance,
eyes on the eggs, hands behind her back. "Whew, is it ever hot!" she
exclaims, wiping the first beads of sweat from her forehead. Gray-green eyes
blink away sweat and sleepiness,effectless.
On the sands, Shem, a candidate with a big blotchy red spot on his cheek,
sidles up to Vinnie. She carefully moves away. And so it goes, like
continental drift, the slow pursuit from one end of the semi-circle to the
other.
On the sands, And then that large boy in the undersized robe is taking his turn
at the respectful bow, and *rip*, there goes a seam. Right in the backside.
He shuffles, too, his hands now clasped firmly behind him, hopefully covering
up that tear.
On the sands, Sissy doesn't know where to look, eyes dartying around - eggs,
dragons, candidates… everywhere… 'You need a belt,' she tells Ilaria,
gratuitously. And her hands slips tight into Jenara's/
On the sands, Iconic Byzantine Egg barely stirs, a breath of color upon the
sands.
On the sands, Jules looks at each of her friends, trying to smile, but the
fear, worry and pain of her scorched feet prevent her from doing so. She
edges over to Arilynne and gives her the best smile she can.
On the sands, Jenara some of Jenar's nervousness goes away as she tries not to
giggle at the boy's ripped rob..instead she turns her gaze to the moving eggs
and keeps shifting her feet on the hot bruning sands.

Rh'esh waves a hand dismissively, chuckling at G'briel. "Interesting, maybe.
But she'd still be a Fort rider. And I tell you, I don't envy her. I
wouldn't like being stuck in this cold, all Turn long." Pampered to Ista's
maritime climate, he is.

On the sands, "Oh, a belt." Good idea. Ilaria will just go and get one right
now. She's sure nobody would mind. She actually starts to, but then, no. She
just grabs up the material again and smiles sweetly to Sissy. "I'll be fine,
thank you."
On the sands, Jancent glances to each side, a bit wary that he feels so alone
in his little spot.. Feet still shift of their own accord, one held suspended
a moment to cool as the other takes the pain, then reversed. He hears the
rip, but doesn't see where it came from, so gaze returns to the eggs in time
to see yet another egg stir.
On the sands, Overpaint Egg tips slowly forward and then back again, its outer
shell stripping away in great flakes.
On the sands, Magael's grip is loose, if a bit sweaty, and perhaps a bit —
shaky. Though, to look at him, he comes across as not too twitchy. If you
ignore the slight up-down movement of his feet and the continuous bobbing of
his Adam's apple.
On the sands, Zephre lingers by the edge of the sands, waiting for Impressions
soon to come.

Rhia gets up again, adn starts dancing. "Go Jenara, go Laih!" she chants for a
bit.

On the sands, Fiona glances toward Gr'ym and Kolyath— what are they doing?
On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg reflects itself against the so-white
Neo-Classical egg, all yellow and brown and brown and — there's a glitter;
there.
On the sands, Kolyath tries for a half-hearted hum. Heh? Hrm. But his tail's
straight, his wings loose, his rider working and leaning his hands into that
haunch.
On the sands, Overpaint Egg unzips, the silent scar splitting near-soundlessly
in all the furor of the sands; at the end, pleasantries peel away in
grass-green flakes like so much Astroturf about a wet and wing-scraped
dragonet.

On the sands, Spangled Emilie-Blue Dragonet
On the sands, Blunt of mind and motion he may be, but sheer opulence glitters
in every outer facet of that cobalt-spangled dragonet, even down to the
acute curve of polished talons. That fabulous blue strokes decadence
itself along his sleek, svelte bones, all a-flicker with grace notes of
iridescent magentas and teals; they deepen into purple at neckridges' peaks
and just there, at the tip of his spine where the tail-tip flares. Genteel
green gloves the narrow bones of wingspars and distinguishes understated
headknobs, but it's a deeper midnight that swirls wild applique along his
throat and the hidden shadows beyond.

On the sands, Gretchen crosses a leg, an ankle behind her leg, just at the
calf, and stands there. Cool, so cool, so— yeah, right. She's just like
every other candidate, and she finally gives in. "Rhali — Rhali?"

G'briel can agree with that, and does "Aye…..freezing my bones would not suit
me at all." he chuckles "And neither would living where I could not see
such…fascinating scenery, clothed in very little" Eyes on Arilynne, he is
in a strange mood today. "oh, look. Blue…..nice little guy, too."

On the sands, Naomi bounces away from the sand, wrinkled, yellowed gown hanging
limply anyway. "Hot hot hot hot hot hot hot!" she complains, dancing
awkwardly. "It's too hot." She peers across the sands at the dragonet.
"Oh! What a beauty!"
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg shudders, perhaps in response to the first
egg hatching— perhaps not.
On the sands, Vindanea starts paying attention again.
On the sands, Vindanea has connected.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg is bumped, the staunch to Gaudy's glitter, the
rock to its kin's shine. Bump, bump… roll, bump.
On the sands, Candra watches the eggs, and only remembers to breathe again when
her chest feels tight. She just happens to be looking at the egg when it
hatches and eyes widen. It's really happening!
On the sands, "Hot, hot, hot..these sands are /hot/…ike." The words trail off
as Laih examines the newly-hatched dragonet. It's a dragonet. Blue. It
Hatched.
On the sands, Sissy bergins to tell Ilria, 'Just tear a srtip off the
bottom…' and then breaks off… 'E - I - Oh! Wow!'
On the sands, Doyce manages a smile as she finds just the perfect place to
stand. The heat is ignored as she surveys the sands, then her eyes alight on
the newest entreat. "Oh, a blue," she notes, almost distastefully.
On the sands, Arilynne squeezes and squeezes, nerves making Aril's hand all
sweaty and clammy, and lucky Caenis is attached firmly. And then… there…
poke poke to the candidate next to her. "Do you see that Cae? Blue!"
On the sands, Lynda walks in.
On the sands, "Pretty," Caenis notes almost distractedly.
On the sands, Jenara gasps as the first dragon imerges turning to Sissy she
murmurs, "he's so beautiful, I never imagined it would be like this.."
On the sands, Jules looks up in time to see the first arrival and /breathes/
"He's precious! Jules look a the coloring on him!" Sweaty hands are briskly
wiped off similiar gown nervously as she wonders…
On the sands, Fiona just smiles as the first blue breaks shell. "Look at those
lines," she says quietly— to whoever's near. "Look at those /bones/."
On the sands, Daniger, a sharp-nosed kid with a shock of spiky hair, boggles.
"He's, he's, he's too, too shiny for a dragon!"

Cisusse inhales abruptly with the first dragonet's entrance, a grimace
wrinkling her youthful face. "Eww— what's /that/? It's ugly."

On the sands, Shem slings an arm over Vinnie's shoulders, and she shrugs it
off, throwing him a hot glare. Shem's shocked. He just wanted to share the
moment.
On the sands, Her poise is perfect, but she's nearly forgetting to breathe. She
gasps as the dragonet emerges. Shards and shells! This isn't just any
performance! This is for real!

Rh'esh leans in as the first egg cracks and a blue tumbles out. "You're
right… handsome little guy." He grins and turns his head to his weyrmate,
winking. "Always one to see the advantages in wearing little, hmm?"

On the sands, Ilaria's got her hands full, she does, with lots of extra robe,
and she's got her feet full avoiding the heat of the sands.. Shame the robe
only reaches to her ankles, or she could add its thick material as extra
protection. "I can't," she says, to Sissy's suggestion. "I'd need scissors,
and I don't have any." She raises her hands to show their emptiness, and down
falls her robe. Back up it goes again, and Ilaria shuffles over near Jules.
"Blue hatching first is a good sign, isn't it?"

Aree "oohs" as the blue hatchwes, "Rhia isn't he beautiful?" she asks as shhe
tries to peer over the heads in front of her.
Rhia nods. "Yep." she mutters, spellbound.

On the sands, Jancent gasps and eyes move suddenly to the hatched egg, widening
incredulously — it… hatched? Shoulders conscientiously straighten, and
each foot is held just a tad bit longer on the sands as he forgets the heat,
intent on the blue dragonet.
On the sands, Adara smiles. "He's a beauty," she agrees with the Weyrwoman,
keeping her eye out for injuries.
On the sands, N'fra watches, nodding slowly, as she hmms under her breath.
"Blue. Good." No wish for green here, and certainly not from Tefiath's end.
Another chaser. "He's a beaut," comes, quietly.
On the sands, There's a hum from Kolyath, a good one. He taps his own blue
talons, warming from wariness to expectance.
On the sands, Sissy gulps - looks back at Jenara. Hand grips tighter as she
murmurs, 'I don't think I ever got as far as imagining… you could tear, if
you're desperate,' she adds to Ilaira.
On the sands, "Hey, look," Magael nudges to Candra, just in case she hadn't,
yet, seen; he looks at her, then, to catch her reaction, her expression.
"What do you think?"
On the sands, Spangled Emilie-Blue Dragonet impatiently shakes that last bit of
shard from his left hind foot, then takes a moment to admire his talons. Only
a moment, and then he's off to see what there is to see.
On the sands, Jules agrees with Ilaria. "Any dragon would be a good sign for me
right now Ilaria..he's so..colorful! Don't worry about your robe now..they
don't care what it looks like." They being the dragons of course.
On the sands, Blown Glass Egg Blown Glass Egg pinwheels, shatters, melts away.
Rifts of light pull translucent galaxy asunder, the embrace of color falling
apart with the emergence of its hidden star's bright eyes and glittering
green hide.

On the sands, Midsummer Eve Forest Green Dragonet
On the sands, Such sylvan colors, her greens and golds and browns, as if she
were bound to the woodlands and not to the skies. From the roots of her
walnut talons to the canopy of her sycamore wings, she is forest and dragon
in one; ochre light dapples the trunk of her neck, and pale sepia softens the
thorny vine of ridges creeping down her back. Freckly suggestions of wild
violet on her flanks set off the purple shadow touching every eyelid; the tip
of her otherwise mossy tail gleams warm and mellow as moonlight.

On the sands, Gretchen raises her brows a little as the dragon hatches — then
tips, teeters, and sets both feet firmly on the sand to keep from falling.
And the sand sifts through the sandles, between her toes, and it's gritty.
So gritty. And she doesn't like it, and where's— "Oh shards." Doubts. Oh,
indeed. Doubts.

Kalrania slowly moves down the stairs, eyes searching for familiar faces.
Suddenly she sees one - her breath catches with surprise - and she moves
silently behind him. Tapping Rh'esh on the shoulder, she chuckles. "My duty
to you."

On the sands, Ilaria rolls her eyes up toward the galleries, for Jules'
benefit. "But /they/ do," she says. "I don't want to give them more of a show
than they came to see." Her family is all up there, after all.
On the sands, Candra ohs softly yet again and murmurs. "Beautiful. Isn't she
just beautiful, Magael?" Hot sands? What hot sands?
On the sands, Arilynne straightens her shoulders and stands up straight,
stiffening her back before nudging Caenis to do the same. "Look important,"
she whispers to him, "They're drawn to important people." Pause. Blink.
Gawk. Oogle. "Oooooh, look at /her/!"
On the sands, Naomi leaps into the air, oblivious of all but the dragons. "And
a green! A gorgeous green girl! What beautiful dragons, both of them!"
Okay, she's hysterical. Okay, she's overexcited. But wouldn't you be?
On the sands, "Fast," murmurs Laih, to what of Candra's ear she can see; of
course, she's never actually been to Hatching before, yet still it seems to
be going quickly.
On the sands, Caenis tries to follow Arilynn's directions, straightening his
shoulders — and then his breath is all but taken away. "Just like
/springtime/," he murmurs. Then, more musingly — "I wonder what they do
with the egg shards… they're pretty."
On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg fairly thunks against its white neighbor, now: a
crack, a crunch. A — is that a creel, muffled inside, swallowed within its
echoes?
On the sands, Jenara starts paying attention again.
On the sands, Jenara has connected.
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg shimmers — elegantly? — but no more.
On the sands, Rhali squares her shoulders more, holds her head high! Big smile!
The most important audience of her life is coming out of those eggs… so
*shine*!
On the sands, "Hey, watch it!" Doyce admonishes a fellow Candidate who stumbles
into her. Pushing him away, she pats at her hair and her robe. "Clod!"
Blues and greens are forgotten in her primping.

Above the sands, Isabeth flies in from the Bowl.

On the sands, Jenara yawns and slips quietly to bed.
On the sands, Jenara has disconnected.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg only wibbles, dispite being close to its
crooning neighbor. Who will leave first? Not it, as it comes to a stop.
On the sands, Jancent's attention is diverted from the blue as yet another egg
Hatches, and eyes sweep over the resulting green, and he can't help himself,
"Oh, wow…" Focus is swept to all reaches of the Grounds as eggs rock,
hatch, twitch, and he sidles to the side to get a better view of one or
another.
On the sands, Jules gives Ilaria a look and hands her a pin from her head.
"Here..fasten it with this then It should hold. But did you see that green?"
she nudges Ilaria, nearly making her drop the pin.

Wullan approaches along the narrow walkway from the dragons' ledges.
Marlien steps with aplomb down to the very front - for she has 'friends' down
there. Leaping up and down in an attempt to be seen, she shouts in an
ear-shattering voice, "HEY, CAENIS!"
G'briel keeps his eyes on the blue, nodding to Rh'esh "Yes…..wearing very
little leaves more scope for the imagination" he murmurs. "And
improvisation. NOt to mention it is less difficult than peeling away layers
of bulky, form-hiding clothing" He nods his satisfaction "Good to see such a
strong looking blue first off, don't you think?

On the sands, Candra nods to Laih, though she hasn't any idea if its supposed
to be this way or not. She chews on that poor lower lip, while gaze tries to
decide whether to watch blue, green or eggs.
On the sands, Iconic Byzantine Egg rolls, bumping neighbors, entire surface
shivering at some inner momentum.
On the sands, Midsummer Eve Forest Green Dragonet flicks out her tongue, her
tiny little tongue, and licks one of her forelimbs a little cleaner, still
caught amid a shimmering nest of glass-like shards.
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg is unmoved by its fellow eggs. So noisy, so
bumpy. Why not just sit here and look pretty?
On the sands, Arien breathes in the sands, Katrineth's rumble — oh, she's
eyeing that little blue, reflecting his hues in her paua-green eyes. And
then there's the next dragonet in her nest, and —

Wullan hops down from the Ledges where a bulging Isabeth settles down for a
visit with the other dragons. "Hello there, G'briel, Rh'esh!" she calls,
wandering towards them, wineskin slung over her shoulder.

On the sands, Illuminated Manuscript Egg is…still…silent.
On the sands, Arilynne is a fountain of information, "You can't keep them," she
informs Caenis. "There're too much trouble to keep." Or so she's been told.
They are awfully pretty, and for the moment she's distracted.
On the sands, That large boy candidate is sort of hiding in the front of all
the candidates. He has to face the dragons, which means his backside is
mostly facing the galleries. And that is a bad thing, since his backside is
so so bare, beneath that large tear. So that, of course, is why he's in front
of the candidates. They have at least all seen him in states like this
before. All but Ilaria, who looks away, to Jules. "Ow! don't poke.. oh."
It's sort of just an intake of breath.
On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg can be silent too. And is. For a moment. And
then it cracks again, a bit of shell curling free like zest from a citron's
rind.
On the sands, Spangled Emilie-Blue Dragonet sees what's what, all right, and
now it's time to find out who's who. Who's where? He cruises among the clumps
of candidates, warbling his reedy little considering warble, and looks.
Notices. Trips.

Rh'esh nods his agreement to G'briel. "Aye. Lovely green, too. Looks
finicky, though." Which means that Rh'esh himself couldn't live in the same
weyr with her. Looking around, he happens to spot Wullan in the crowd and
waves to her.
Rhia waves her little flag that says Laih and Jenara on it.

On the sands, Jenara pokes Jules, "Oh look at that green!" she exclaims!
On the sands, Magael says nothing, only nods, and, just, watches — waits? —
for something, anything, more dragonets or those lightning-quick Impressions
they've talked about. His feet move, zombie-like, and eyes are just about the
same: back and forth, between blue and green, eggs and candidates.
On the sands, Gretchen gives her shoulders a shake, a twitch that runs down her
body — waist, torso, knees — to loosen up. And her fingers, she wriggles
them, stretches them, and takes up a stance again, more confident with
slightly spread legs, although they're hidden beneath her robe.
On the sands, Shem says something snide about the bare-rumped candidate in
front of him, pointing and whispering to Vinnie. Unfortunately he makes the
mistake of patting her backside, maybe in illustration. Vinnie catches his
hand in a steely grip and makes low threats of violence.
On the sands, Jules stares intently, curiousity sparkling in her eyes as she
watches the green preen herself. "She beautiful isnt she Jenara?" Oh..the
blue…he's having trouble..
On the sands, Doyce completes her patting down of wisps and robes and finally
gives her attention again to dragonets. Hmm, very nice, but not for her. A
finger traces her hairline as she smiles regally. She's definately gold
material.
On the sands, Caenis frowns a moment. "How are shards trouble?" He asks
Arilynne curiously. "They can't move on their own, right?" He pauses then,
watching the wandering dragonets in a moment of silence. "I bet they'd look
really nice in a window, catching the light," he continues.
On the sands, Trips. Of course. Head turning to follow the blue's progress,
Laih smiles; softly, barely, frantically, but it's still a smile.
On the sands, Naomi glances from green to blue, absolutely entranced.
"Gorgeous," she murmers, unsure herself of who it is she's talking to.
"Beautiful baby. Big baby. Gorgeous…" She bables softly to herself,
forgetting about keeping feet warmth even.

Rosetta walks in.

On the sands, Midsummer Eve Forest Green Dragonet notices the eyes on her, and
this isn't the last time she'll have an audience, oh no, not this one — but
here comes the show, the unfurling of her wings, slow, slow, the slightest
bit wobbly.

Wullan waves back at Rh'esh, and plunks herself down in a nearby seat. "Benden
wine, anyone?" From somewhere she produces a trio of mugs. "Did I miss
much? Isabeth's fussy these days - took longer to get off the ground than
usual. Soon she'll be too egg-heavy for *betweening*." An appraising and
fond glance towards her lifemate, then she gazes at the Sands. "Ooo, just
look at that green!"

On the sands, Rhali walks in from the entrance.
On the sands, Ilaria is here, she's right here, and her robe is falling off of
her because her hands have dropped, limp, by her sides. Then one slow hand
reaches back up, up to her cheek, up to her hair. She didn't brush her hair.
She didn't brush her hair.

Kalrania stares for a moment a t wherhide-bound back and grits her teeth. It's
so nice to be ignored. With that thought, she spins on her heel and takes a
seat in the back, where she can see everything. Pulling a piece of paper from
where it was trapped between elbow and ribs, she begins to carefully scribe
the list. Green. Blue. No, wait, blue first. Very well.

On the sands, Faith and Science Egg rests in silent contemplation perhaps?
Logical, timed, patient, solving problems of the egg… it's still.
On the sands, Sissy pulls a slight face as the blue trips. Seems the sense of
occasion is getting to more than just the Candidates… 'Maybe?' she wonders,
but then stops. Just stay still…

Aree puts a hand on Rhia's arm. "Friends of yours?" she asks, motioning to the
flag.

On the sands, Jancent gasps in a breath as the blue dragonet stumbles, and his
first instinct is to help, though he restrains himself, instructions foremost
in his cloudy mind. Eyes dart back to the green, but return to the blue,
concern evident even as he wipes the sweat from his brow.
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg shifts a little, rocks a little, mm, rocks.
On the sands, Jenara nods distractly at Jule's remark as she watches the two
hatchlings.
On the sands, N'fra does wince as that blue trips, before she murmurs softly
under her breath, "He'll be fine." Got to be, as she moves, wandering a bit
to stand near the others.

Rhia nods. "Yup. Well, Laih is. Jenara is, sorta."
Rh'esh grins at Wullan, elbowing one of the nearby Smiths and scooting over to
make room for Wullan. "Sure, a bit of wine would be great. Isabeth's doing
well, then? I don't think I've seen you both since that evening in Janah and
Maggie's weyr."

On the sands, Arilynne wrinkles her brow as she tries to remember why egg
shards are trouble, but really, she's beyond logic and remembering. "They
just are," she informs Caenis primly, only to have her attention caught again
by green. Then blue. Then green. Aril looks like a spectator at a ball
game, her head going back and forth from one dragonet to another.
On the sands, Almost Real Egg turns in the sand, rotating just a few degrees.
Time…it is not time yet.
On the sands, Iconic Byzantine Egg creaks, spiderweb cracks circling from inner
impact. A shudder, and another, as jeweled colors begin to break away.

Eyes drifting to audience as dragonets stubbornly do not Impress, Kalrania
frowns unconsciously. Then emerald gaze rests upon a certain goldrider, and a
smile breaks over a face. Standing up and cupping her hands over her mouth,
she calls, "Wullan!"

On the sands, Frankly, Gretchen doesn't care, so long as there's no dragon
ready to run her over; the blue could trip and smoosh his nose so that it
looked like a bull-dog's, but she wouldn't be running to it. On the other
hand, well — there's Rhali. ".. Rhali!"
On the sands, Candra watches, utterly entranced. That there is crowd, or
anything else beyond the sands with their eggs and dragonets and candidates
has completely flown her mind. As if even time has halted for this little
show of renewal.
On the sands, Jules is trying vainly to fan her feet now that the first shock
of hatching is wearing off. Grateful for N'fra's reassurance, she continues
to watch..eyeing her favorite eggs, a little concerned that the gold egg
hasn't started to move yet.
On the sands, Spangled Emilie-Blue Dragonet wastes no time in finding his feet
again, pushing past a wide-shouldered boy with not much white on without so
much as a by-your-leave. He does pause, though, at a small gang of girls,
sniffing surreptitiously.
On the sands, Caenis gives Arilynne's hand a squeeze. "Well, we'll just see
what happens, right?"
On the sands, Iconic Byzantine Egg breaks into its parts, sending a thousand
brightly colored shards and tiles in its wake, falling like a rainbow rain in
the wake of the dignified occupant who now emerges.

On the sands, Rushin' Russian Industrial-Blue Dragonet
On the sands, Is that the gleam of searching greed in the whirling facets of
his eyes? Lo, but maybe. For from egg-damp tailtip to black-smudged nose, he
looks incomplete. That odd color of his hide, for one. Is it smokey gray, sky
blue, or a mix of both? His talon-toes are curled in aristocratic scrollings,
lengthy legs and stubby tail and neck making him seem to mince. An affect of
dignity is caused by this — maybe it was done on purpose? For whatever
reason, he holds his head high, yet nostrils low, as if carefully discerning
what is good enough for him.

G'briel inspects the green, and then turns to Wullan "A woman who brings whine
is always welcome" he calls in way of greeting. Even if he won't drink much
of it "Come to admire the hatchlings, weyrwoman?" he teases as she comes
closer, nodding at Rh'esh's comment on the green "Yes….she does look hard
to live with. but so was Llawenth, at first."

On the sands, Ilaria runs fingers through her hair, snagging, twisting the
tangled locks, short and brown and looking fuzzy, and she /is/ worried about
it. Suddenly it seems the most important thing on Pern, that her hair not be
mussed.

Marlien continues leaping in an attempt to see over tall, uncaring heads. Hate
being short. Jet curls tossed askeyw, she pauses to catch her breath before
giving yet another mighty leap. "Caenis!" As if he could hear her.

On the sands, Naomi watches the blue dragon closely, watching the green out of
the corner of her eye. "He's choosing," she murmers, fingers crossing
slightly. Her gra-green eyes flutter under firey eyelashes, and she glances
at the newest blue baby.

Wullan glances around, trying to place voice with face and grins impishly at
the sight of Kalrania. "Well, Harper, so nice to see you again! Here for
the Hatching, hmm?" She pours the wine for the others, not spilling a drop
despite her enthusiastic greeting to her friend.

On the sands, Stage left, stage right? Rhali shifts her position till she finds
the spot to stand- Though just as scorching hot as the others. "O'er here,
Gretchen!" She bounces just a bit and attempts to peer over the heads of some
taller candidates. And lookit that: Dragons.
On the sands, Utterly ignoring the crowd except for a selected wave here and
there, Laih's glance at the green is interrupted as another hatchling
hatches; oh, indeed, much too fast. She was never a slow person in any way,
but she is kind of shaken up, at the moment; calming herself, eyes intend
upon this hatchling, that hatchling….Candra's hand.
On the sands, Midsummer Eve Forest Green Dragonet makes her way forward. It's
tentative, it's slow, something like a processional, marching to her own
natural rhythm. There are no deviations to her course; everything's straight
but the thorn-vine of ridges winding down her back.
On the sands, Fiona counts industriously. "Look, three!"
On the sands, Arilynne sweats all over Caenis' hand, and then she bounces and
bobs trying to get a better look at the blue. "Look, he's stopped. Who's he
looking at Cae? Can you see?" Aril can't, a bit smith being horrid enough
to be right there in the girl's line of sight.
On the sands, Arien drinks in a long breath. Dragons. Sand. Sweat. —She
coughs.
On the sands, "No, come here," Gretchen returns to Rhali. She's got her place,
her position, her confidence; there's no way she's moving. "Here."
On the sands, Jenara relaxs as the little blue rights itself and turn her
attention to the other stirring eggs. The heat is beginning to take tis toll
nad she wriggles in her robe which is getting stuffy, despir(despite) her
efforts to rmain still and calm.

Kalrania chuckles. "Where else would I be? You know me, always snooping
around!" She deliberately ignores that ingrate Rh'esh. Who? I don't know him.
Riiiiiight.
Aree strains to see over the heads in front of her and asks Rhia, "Who are
they?"

On the sands, Daniger nods his square chin in satisfaction as that last blue
comes out. "Now that's what I call blue." Heedless of instructions, he sets
himself in what he hopes is the path of that last smoky hatchling.
On the sands, Gaudy Gaudi Egg loses another peel, as if weathering far too soon
— or maybe it's just to strip and gain another coat.
On the sands, Magael, right at this moment, takes the time to say to Candra,
"You know, I never thought about how I'd feel after this, after it's over,
and everything. I just thought about — y'know. Everything else." The arrival
of a new blue distracts him, so he kinda just forgets to listen for a reply.

Rh'esh winks at G'briel again, even as he grins thanks at Wullan, accepting the
mug of wine she pours. "And Llawenth isn't tough to live with now?" he
teases. Not that Rh'esh himself is agreeable and fastidious most of the
time, of course.

On the sands, Just another blue. Doyce yawns, smoothing her hair down again.
Where's her gold already? It's getting hot out here..

Rhia shrugs, still straining to see. "I dunno." she says.

On the sands, Jules glances at Ilaria, relaxing a bit, but stiffening up as she
watches the first blue hatchling take in the meansure of some of the
candidates. "Who is he looking at?" she says to anyone near.
On the sands, The mean smith blocks Caenis's sight too. "No, I can't see —
hey, down in front!" The smith growls, but moves a little to the side. Of
course, that just puts him more in the way, and Caenis fingers his pretty
little bit of ribbon almost nervously.
On the sands, Jancent heaves a relieved sigh with a breath he hadn't known he
was holding, eyes moving to take in the newest blue as he rocks onto his
toes, then back onto his heels as the heat becomes unbearable yet again.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg might gain of few of those peels of paint, but
it seems all too content to rest where it is, old but new, rather stodigly.
Well, there might be a twitch here and there, but not much.
On the sands, Her hair has been finger-combed, her cheek has been rubbed nearly
raw, and Ilaria stands, still and quiet, almost looking puzzled, alone there
among all her friends. Alone, but serene now, now that her hair.. well, it
looks the same, but she feels better about
Velvet Painting Egg is suddenly less quiet, rolling a half-turn
so that its shimmery surface reflects the light.
On the sands, Sissy regards the first blue carefully. 'He's not really looking
- yet…' she observes. 'He's… sniffing.'
On the sands, Candra just barely hears Magael's words, her attention is so
caught up on everything else, the beginings of lif's free of debris and looking his best
before moving on - to find The Right One. His mincing steps take him out
toward the ring of white robes.
On the sands, Arilynne jumps, taking Caenis' hand wi's hip.
On the sands, Arien glances at the girl — the dark-ore or less…sniffing!"
On the sands, N'fra comments, "And there's the firstd her dragon below. And takes a sip.
e-grained mahogany, polished with lemon and lime
perhaps? Ilaria
e /Impress/! His voice comes out in a gasp,
o's not a
Kolyath croons something buttery, something sweet.
and just says softly, "Ilaria…" She watches the
hat direction. "Oooh, look Cae… bronze." As if h the sands. "He's
absolutely wonderful!"

On the sands, Jenara gazes in shock. The green impressed already, but she grins
as she observes the two, they look perfect together!
On the sands, Candra murmurs to Magael, "I think she said Seelinth." And then
her attention is drawn back to the other drgaonets and the still rocking eggs.
On the sands, Gretchen does — but not so much at the moment, she can handle
the grains stuck between her toes. ".. that name's .. Ilaria's dragon ..
it's .." She can't find the words, nor the voice in her throat to do much of
anything besides stutter — and that's odd for her. "Let's leave Rhali. We
can get off the sands. Don't you think we should? That we could?"
On the sands, Jules is gulping, suddenly wishful, almost hopeful. Admiring what
she can see of the two blues, but giving the bronze only a glance..oh and a
brown! "He is…Oh Sissy!" She exclaims as she watches another pair
meet..forever.

On the sands, And it's Sissy's turn to trip now, qtuie backwards, onto her
behind, as it all hits her, all at once. 'Klimth?… Klimth!'

On the sands, Doyce cares. Finally free of the sand, she looks up again. Time
to pat the hair down again, it's gotten out of order. Hands fly to the
bright red wisps, primping again.
On the sands, Jancent's eyes stay fixed on the bronze dragonet even as another
egg hatches, captivated as the hatchling attempts to fly… and fails. A
smile curves just the edges of his lips, and he watches the dragonet with
unconcealed awe.
On the sands, Arilynne deliberates and then wavers and then turns. Well why
not? "You know what, Cae, I don't see why -" and then she notices. "Sissy!
Hooray for Healer!"
On the sands, Now Laih notices something. And it's another Impression -
Sissy's! Peering about to spot Jules, she manages a wild wave, somewhat away
from herself as she turns to notice the brown.

Wullan grins and points as one of the blues Impresses. "Bravo, and well done.
Klimth and Sissy." Again the glass is raised in toast before sip is drunk.
"More wine Rh'esh? G'briel?" 'Skin is raised politely.

On the sands, Vindanea mouths the name, Klimth, and sends Sissy her semi-smile
of satisfaction. It's all she can manage, tense and jittery despite the heat
of the sand.
On the sands, Rhali wiggles, a cat out of the bag and on hot sands. "Too quick,
three already? Quick is wonderful. It'll be over quick. It will be like it's
supposed to be- All good and quick!" Nervousness aids this rambling harper's
tonge, one that a cat has most certinally not got. Out flies a pointing hand.
"And there! Sissy!"
On the sands, Roamin' Roman Harley-Bronze Dragonet picks himself up; failure?
Failure?! Life's just beginning; but legs are in front of him. Shem's. He
stares — no, sniffs; scent tells more — and his velvety muzzle pushes
between the boy and Vinnie to try and get past.
On the sands, Caenis waves to Sissy, his little bit of ribbon fluttering.
"Y'know, Aril, I think we should come back and snag some of the shards no
matter what — there are so many, no one will ever notice if we take some."

Kalrania's face glows as she carefully writes Ilaria - Seelinth (Harper!
Rejoice!) and Sissy-LKlimth. Carefully laying her paper on the seat next to
her, she abandons all control and leaps to her feet, cheering wildly for
Ilaria.

On the sands, Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown Dragonet is out. But is it — now —
what he truly wanted. Hrm. He might have to think about that. And so he
sits, perfectly still as a statue, until white robes and nervous faces catch
his eye, before those weathered wings give a shrugbound, almost philosophical
shake. He'll make his own way, he'll find his own partner.
On the sands, Candra is caught by surprise at the next Impression, looking over
to see who, what, and where.

Calgar walks in.

On the sands, Ilaria begins to turn away, to go toward N'fra's voice, but she
can't turn away. She can't take her eyes from the little green, from her
missing piece, from that little rumbling stomach.. no, the large rumbling
stomach, the hungry stomach. Ilaria's so /hungry/, she's starving, she's
nudging Ilaria.. no, that's Seelinth nudging Ilaria, helping her over to
N'fra.
On the sands, Vindanea knows the ropes. You can't live in a Weyr all your life
without having the good sense to step away.
On the sands, Magael gets lost in the swirl of things, standing there,
captivated; it's so very easy to be sucked in, to watch the pairings, the
joy, the dragonets — and to forget those burning sands and sweat-dappled
brow. "Klimth — and Seelinth. Blue, green."

Nira follows one of the staircases up.

On the sands, Over near that clump of boys, a sturdy brown dragonet hatches
from a sunset egg, making his first steps out into the wide world.
On the sands, Faith and Science Egg sways as if on hinges: gray and red,
charcoal and blood that's more human than any draconic ichor; that's left for
the dragonet who bites her way free.

On the sands, Poisonous Munch Scream-Green Dragonet
On the sands, Every putrid, venomous hue of green mottles this dragonet's hide
from the chartreuse chrome that dribbles from her gaping lower jaw to the
thick, crusted pea soup shade of her flanks and spine. The variegations look
like the slapped and slashed paint job of the truly indifferent and contain
Rorschach-like images whose distorted asymmetry provokes pathological
diagnoses. With teeth of disproportionate length and eyes afire with hunger,
she poisons the sands and trails the sludge of her eggy casing, split by the
wake of her blackened claws.

On the sands, "Yes, it's quick, but" Gretchen talks now, able to find words
when she knows what she's saying, what she's thinking. "
well." She's
confused, slightly, and gives Rhali a quick glance before looking at the
dragons and eggs again.

Rh'esh checks his own mug, then grins at Wullan. "I'm doing fine with what I
have, I believe. I don't want to have too much, or I'll never make it to the
party after the Hatching." He winks at her to show he's exaggerating, if
only just a bit.

On the sands, Shem, for his part, stands fairly confidently in the way until
Vinnie takes pity on the poor schmuck and drags him out of the way by the
elbow. But! But! is on Shem's lips.
On the sands, Rushin' Russian Industrial-Blue Dragonet pauses importantly,
poking his aristocratic nose toward Doyce as she primps. Just this once, the
grooming doesn't matter to him.
On the sands, Almost Real Egg shakes itself suddenly, then stops just as
abruptly. Mirage holds for now.
On the sands, Naomi turns her eyes, twinning her gaze on the blue, and the
brown. "Ooooooooh." Words fail her as she spies the newest green. "Eer.
Well. Um… she looks hungry," she finally settles on, trying to find a good
side to the green.
On the sands, So she steps away; Roamin' Roman Harley-Bronze Dragonet picks up
pace, his near wingtip trails just past her ankle, hunting out captivation of
his own. Past Shem, nostrils lifted as they fix on that sweat, that scent.

Nira releases Tanntei, who launches into the air.

On the sands, Candra's eyes widen at the lastest hatched and tugs on Magael's
hand. See? Look? Though she doesn't speak it aloud.
On the sands, "But perhaps not those shards," Caenis murmurs faintly.
On the sands, Daniger shoulders close to Doyce, hoping against hope that he'll
be the one instead of the arrogant girl.
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg rolls once again, rolls nearly over, so soft,
so quiet, so /smooth/.

On the sands, Rushin' Russian Industrial-Blue Dragonet fixes his whirling gaze
upon Doyce.

On the sands, Sissy picks herself up, it's just her and Klimth, for the moment,
she's not noticing much.
On the sands, Jancent watches the bronze as he pokes between two Candidates,
eyes almost hopeful, darting about as other activity occurs, but always
returning to the bronze as he tries to see where he's going, who he's
searching for.
On the sands, Jules shivers a bit as the next green hatches, but eyes slide to
the blue and brown still undecided on the sands. What's this? Her black egg
is rolling? Oh but maybe…just maybe there's one for her!
On the sands, Time, yes. Charting the uncharted, hungry, preying Poisonous
Munch Scream-Green Dragonet bravely marches from protective shards.
On the sands, Velvet Painting Egg melts too softly to hear the plush tear of
cloth, the seamless stretch-and-rips; shard by shard, its nebulous yellow
falls away from the blackness as if it were but butter browning into a
dragonet. Who, only a little wobbly, draws back his cape of wings and
strides — swaggers — his way into the light.

On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet
On the sands, What a cavalier dragonet is he, what with his easy — high-handed
— assurance and not a little flair, compactly housed in tawny hide. That
suede-soft brown's given but a wash of cream about his underbelly to
emphasize the line of flanks, and a shot of deeper whiskey to warm the
muscular stretch of wings; too expressive for his own good, they are, with
fingersails oft-threatened by the dicey zeal of dark-taloned paws. Whether
it's a slow stretch or a mantling roll of those wings, every leonine movement
promises drama and adventure.

On the sands, "What? What do you want from me?" Doyce asks the blue at first
before her snide expression changes to one of amazement. "Rolleth?!" she
questions, going down on her knees before the blue. He's not gold, but he's
perfect…

On the sands, Arilynne pauses and then bends to pick up a loose shard, "Why not
now," she asks, Caenis having planted the idea in her head. And then, oooh,
green. And then she looks again. Scary green. And then Caenis is
maneuvered as protection.
On the sands, N'fra wanders over to Sissy, musing, "Klimth… wonderful. Would
you follow me, please? Let's get the two of you out of the way." Yes, out of
the crowd, as other pairs as shuffled off as well.
On the sands, Vindanea bites her lips, and there it is again. Yearning,
yearning, but not for a dragon, not for a bronze, not for /that/ bronze. Oh,
Zhanth.
On the sands, And with that newfound optimism, Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown
Dragonet pads out onto sands that aren't yet covered in shattered shells.
Pad, pad, pad. No stalking for him, no (or at least not too much) awkward
fumbling. He's movin' movin' on silent paws. And in front of him, a loner
and a joiner, quiet and noisy.
On the sands, "We'll feed you, sweet," Ilaria murmurs, leading, no following,
walking with Seelinth, over to N'fra, to food? To warmth? To coolness?
Ilaria's robe drops from her shoulder, but she's busy. She's finding N'fra,
she's following N'fra. She and Seelinth. Together.

Kalrania takes on an expression of indignity at something Wullan said. "I never
said that!" she rejoinds, but her mock-anger is marred by laughter. Fingers
scribble - brown, brown, bronze. Doyve - blue Rolleth.

On the sands, Zephre spots an Impression, and heads over to give Doyce and
Rolleth a guide off the sands.
On the sands, Rhali flickers a second glance, a moment to place the expressions
on the faces of her semi-circled friends. Anxiety, Joy, Fear, Cunning…Rhali
will stick to an undecied mixture. The pair of browns recieve a smile. "Look
Gretch. They're cute lil' boys."
On the sands, Magael peeks towards the eggs, those unhatched, then to Candra
"Dragonets," he observes, solemn, and indicates the brown, the green, that
bronze, right there. "It's too, too fast, isn't it? Better watch."
On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet so carefully picks the
remaining shards off, so smoothly steps away from his former home, so like a
dancer, so like a fencer, takes one step, takes two steps
and stops,
fascinated with the curve of his wings, the way they stretch, the way they
curve.
On the sands, Naomi stares at the green, an odd expression spreading across her
face. "I have never seen a dragon anything like that colour," she remarks,
then laughs. "A totally unique dragonet?" She tries the words on her
tongue, and smiles at the sound. She ain't bad.
On the sands, Yet more surprise to get Candra blinking…Doyce Impressed? Oh,
the poor Weyr.

Rhia cheers for Jules, too. "GO JULES< JENARA< AND LAIH!"s eh screams.
Wullan grins impishly at Rh'esh, slightly flirtatious as the wine takes effect,
and returns her gaze to the newly hatched brown. "He's a beauty - isn't he,
Isabeth love?" She winks as the gold rumbles a response. "Truly chivalrous."

On the sands, Gretchen does not think quite the same way as Rhali. "If you
think dragons 'cute' — unless you're talking about the boys?" Her tone's
wry, sarcastic, and cold; and she shifts, tapping her heel against her other
leg, and unfolding her arms for a moment or two.
On the sands, Jules nudges Naomi. "Look at /that/ brown! He's so…smooth." she
says pointing to the correct one
On the sands, Daniger steps out of the way with a grudging, "Good for you,
Doyce." He surveys the other hatchlings that blunder here and there, mostly
there. Bronze, brown, the blues are gone. Green. "Ooh." And whether that's
admiration or not, is hard to say.
On the sands, Caenis startles a bit as he's used as a shield. "Come now, she's
really kind of pretty — not like trees, like Seelinth, but the colors are
kind of nice."
On the sands, Gretchen says, "And the boys are *not* cute."
On the sands, Roamin' Roman Harley-Bronze Dragonet /is/ right there. Right
there, winghooks aglitter with brilliant chrome as his muzzle reaches out,
past the warm-eyed, warm-haired girl, and his haunches seize as he tries to
balance. To try and, of all things, lick the olive-y -eyed boy's sweaty
forehead.
On the sands, "He's a handsome young dragon," Naomi agress, speaking of the
brown. "He has grace and strength and looks." Nothing but the best for that
dragon.
On the sands, Sissy and Klimth both get to the sides, out of the way….
eventually.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg twitches, slightly — maybe old and new are
warring, just for the moment.
On the sands, Doyce actually graces Zephre with a smile before coaxing Rolleth
off the sands. "Yes, of course, we'll get you food…," she murmurs.
On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet stretches out that wing, curves
it around, examines the delicate-but-sturdy bones. And takes another two
careful steps forward— wouldn't want to embarrass himself by falling, now
would he?
On the sands, B'nal collects Sissy and, "Klimth, is it? Fine fellow, just
wonderful." He gets them settled, then goes back to watching.

Marlien finally worms her way to the front and hangs over te rail - or whatever
that thing is that keeps her from tumbling to the sands below - and gazes at
the view. "Bronze to Caenis," she announces. "Brown to Vindanea." And she's
always right.

On the sands, Candra ohs softly and pulls her hand free of his, stepping out of
the way. "Magael…."
On the sands, Illuminated Manuscript Egg finally shudders, finally, one long,
hairline crack etching itself across an already etched surface.
On the sands, Magael stands, rooted in place, faced with — /him/. That bronze,
that bronze right there — right *near*. This, of course, brings more sweat
to his brow, to his neck, and to those already moistoned palms. "Uhm."
On the sands, Jules is entranced witht he brown's self-absorption and a smile
lights up her face. "He's…sweet!" Oh but was that the gold egg shifting?
On the sands, Shem scowls Magael's way. Well, that's all right. Obviously
that dragonet didn't have the good taste required to recognize Blood when he
was smack up against it.
On the sands, Caenis's gaze is abruptly drawn from bronze to brown to the
cracks on his favorite egg, nudging Aril to point it out to her. "Lookit!"
On the sands, Stalking past impressing pairs, gleeful tears, and shattered
shards of broken dreams— she doesn't care and wants what she wants. Eyes
whirling, appraising, scanning through the gathered crowd, Poisonous Munch
Scream-Green Dragonet flares a nostril and moves on seeking some continent to
conquer.
On the sands, Rhali slaps a ribbon from her face and stuffs it back into the
braided mass. "But they're babies…" She intones with a slight whine, "And
babies just come out cute." Who to cheer for next? Hands go
clap-smatter-clap. "Magael, he wants you!"
On the sands, 'Uhm'. But then, Roamin' Roman Harley-Bronze Dragonet doesn't
seem to have been looking for a harper, does he?

On the sands, Roamin' Roman Harley-Bronze Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon
Magael.

Marlien amends, "All right, blue to Caenis. " Don't ask how she knows. "He
hasn't hatched yet, of course, but he will." Is she all riht?

On the sands, Caenis doesn't care what's gold, what's not — /all/ of the eggs
are lovely, and murmurs so to Arilynne. "Yeah, we /definately/ need to snag
some of these shards later." Shards, shards. Focus on the here and now.
On the sands, Gretchen has seen ugly babies, oh yes. "Wow .. Magael. They're
picking us off like flies Rhali. Like *flies*," she says, rocking back on
her heels for a moment; then, noticing her shifting, she adopts a firm pose
again, and re-crosses her arms over her chest.
On the sands, Jules tears her eyes away from the other hatchlings long enough
to congradulate the new pair. "Magael! Well matched!"
On the sands, Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown Dragonet isn't smooth. Oh, the
horror! But he's nicely craggy, nicely weathered, nicely ablossom… as
mixed as the emotions flickering across her — her? — face. He stops, head
aslant, and then his wings flur suddenly open and stretched out-out-out! Oh!
The light has dawned, and he wastes little time in pad-padding right up
toward those hands that tie and fidget.
On the sands, Arilynne peers around Caenis for another glance, another look at
the green and then she shivers. "Oh no, not for me," she shakes her head.
"But perhaps you'd suit her," she adds with a shove. But sacrificing Caenis
is forgotten as she notices the tableau of Magael and the bronze before him,
and she sighs and waves the other candidate's finger away. "Wait… Mags!"
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg continues to move this time, as it bumps
against nothing, before stilling.
On the sands, Jancent grins over to Magael, eyes twinkling, before another
brown draws his attention, and awed gaze is once more drawn upon, feet
continuing their neverending quest for relief, and the self-conscious brown
is focused upon.. Among other things.
On the sands, Almost Real Egg turns again, the mirage wavering as the first
crack appears on the mottled shell.

Wullan watches with interest as the bronze finds his lifemate. "Hmm, I think
he won't be quite as big as Sryth, what do you think, Rh'esh?"

On the sands, Magael gawks, really, just — stares, wide-eyed and somewhat
surprised. Then something, something makes those knees buckle forward, down
into the sand. "Theronth, you say?" But he knew, didn't he? He knows now.
Theronth.

On the sands, Daniger tires of avoiding dragonets that don't seem to be coming
as much for him as through him, puts his hands on his hips and stands as
square as one can while rocking from foot to foot.
On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet straightens that wing and —
less tentatively — moves forward again. Look, look, look at all the pretty
Candidates. Now it's that crowded-room moment: choosing the dance partner is
at least as complicated as learning how to dance, you see.
On the sands, Jenara looks on at the paris forming by impression. She smiles at
Sissy, "oh that's wonderful!" and grins at Magael at(as) well. Turnign to
Jules she says, "look the gold ege(egg) is moving!"
On the sands, Naomi watches Impression after Impression. She beams happily,
and gazes out across the sands, bouncing excittedly a bit more. "Oh, look at
'em all!" she bubbles over. "They're all so lovely!" Yes, she's getting
overexcited.

Rhia crosses her finger, muttering incoheherently.

On the sands, Candra gives the pair even a bit more room, and is she crying?
Naw. "No worries now, eh, Magael?"
On the sands, Rhali leans forward, backwards, side to side. Perhaps it's a
dance. Perhaps it's 3rd degree foot-burn pervention. The grin is there, the
eyes are roaming.
On the sands, Jules noticed it, but her eyes are on the two browns making their
rounds. "They're going to choose /someone/ arent they?"
On the sands, Vindanea watches the brown with deep longing on her face. She
wants, she wants, she wants, but the gold egg is moving, and on the other
hand, she aspires, she aspires, she aspires …

Rh'esh lifts his chin to watch the bronze as well, pausing only to flash a
smile at Wullan. "Perhaps not… Syrth's lanky, though. More visibly bone
than muscle." And it's so difficult to tell on size at this stage… When he
first hatched, Syrth seemed to be mostly elbows and knees."

On the sands, Arien shifts edgily from foot to foot, herself; an
over-the-shoulder glance picks up Dorianth's rider, up where it's /cool/, and
at last she smiles.

G'briel smiles at both goldrider and bronzerider "He has grown well since
weyrlinghood" he murmurs "As has Isabeth….Llawenth is as small and wiry as
ever."

On the sands, Poisonous Munch Scream-Green Dragonet's attention is caught?
Could that be the crashing of the waves upon hot desert sands? But here is
no beach to a desert. Razor teeth dripping saliva as if acid, she swivels a
wedged head and sets sail.
On the sands, Gretchen scratches the crook of her elbow with her opposite hand,
keeping those arms folded as she watches. ".. I, uh, hm." No words are
suitable, no thoughts converge, it's hard. How much longer? It's also
tiring.
On the sands, B'nal heads onto the sands toward Magael and his bronze. "You two
come on out of the way now, if you're ready? It will be easier over here."

Wullan grins and nods, chuckling. "Didn't they all, really? And Isabeth - so
tiny by comparison. Who'da thought?" She shakes her head, reliving some of
that momentous occasion almost three Turns before when Isabeth determinedly
stood before her asking for her nose to be scratched. "Llawenth is
beautifully proportioned - Isabeth thinks so too."

On the sands, But Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown Dragonet is right here, right here
looking at Rhali… and her hair. He's not dancing, though— /his/ feet are
just fine. Then again, they're made of rather different material, dragons
and humans. It's all how you look at it.
On the sands, Caenis widens his eyes at Magael in surprise and acknowledgement,
then turns back to the rocking eggs — then to the still-wandering sets of
dragonets. "You know," he says absently, "The way everybody talks, I thought
it'd be hotter. And that green really is kind of pretty — I bet when the
light hits her just right, she'll glow."
On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet is very busy learning the
steps, but he's not too busy to seek out a partner. After all, it's more fun
to dance with two. And who will it be? Is there a group of ladies here that
captures his attention? No. Perhaps this blonde one? No. Or that one? That —
no, certainly not that ungainly child in the too-small robe. His deep gaze
passe around many, through most, and seeks, and seeks.
On the sands, Naomi bounces a bit more, then stops, to catch her breath. She
gasps at the hot air for a minute, then shifts foot-to-foot again, staring
from brown to green to brown again.
On the sands, Arilynne sighs softly and taps Caenis on the shoulder, "Oh,
there's nothing like it is there?" And then her attention diverted, the
green has a goal and Aril once again ducks behind her shield-cum-candidate.
On the sands, Jules does a little hop-hop of her feet, looking a bit like the
all too familiar damce of the hatching sands that everybody's into. Hopping
stops as she sees Rhali and the brown. "Rhali!" As if she'd hear her at a
time like this.

Kalrania notes down the Impression almost absently. Gold flecks slowly fade
from emerald eyes as various thoughts repress her temperament. A soft
wistfulness crosses her face for a moment, but is quickly replaced by an
expressionless mask. bronze Theronth - Maegael. Oh, that's Magael. Cross out,
scribble.
Rh'esh nods amiable agreement. "Remarkable how well dragonets fill out. This
group… is less awkward than many I've seen. With the possible exception of
that green," he adds, puzzling briefly. You know, the drooling dragonet.

On the sands, Jancent takes a quelling breath, feet shifting again, again, mind
wandering to each separate dragonet, until he hears a cry, and an answering
query goes up, "Rhali?!" Head turns to catch site of the newly-Impressed
Candidate, and he grins, "Way to go!"
On the sands, Rhali counts eggs quietly. "Pretty soon, I figure?" Another
shuffling step, and bare robe-hidden toes twitch, feeling dragon claw.
-Shwwomp- There's her gaze. On him.
On the sands, Gretchen takes three quick steps back, away, and bumps into
another candidate, but, after a quick apology, that's okay. "Well—" Looks
like they've gotten another one. Maybe.
On the sands, Magael seems willing to stay there, stay in the sand, stay with
Theronth — but, then there's B'nal, and Theronth, nudging him thattaways,
out of the Hatching chaos and off to the sidelines. Shaking his head,
chuckling, he moves, albeit sluggishly, out of the way.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg twitches again, a slight crack showing in its
side, but nothing more, before it rolls forward into a rather large divit of
sand.
On the sands, Jenara grins as she sees Rhali and the brown. "I wonder what hsi
name is" she says to Jules.
On the sands, Daniger, he rubs at his eyes. Sand in 'em.

Kalrania's head snaps up as the murmurs reach her ears. Rhali. "Rhali," she
whispers before she is on her feet once more. "RHALI!" Clapping and whooping,
she makes a complete - and noisy - fool of herself, unmindful of Wullan
sitting in front of her. Harper lungs - whew.

On the sands, Candra watches Magael and Theronth go, and then other voices pull
her gaze to Rhali and the brown. Will they?
On the sands, Toe to talon, talon to toe— mind to mind? That burry warble
certainly sounds pleased as the tangled gnome-brown dragonet nudges Rhali.
On the sands, "I'm sure he'll tell her soon! She's prolly getting used to it…"
On the sands, Arilynne almost misses it, almost misses Rhali and her brown
meeting face to face for the first time, but Jancent's voice makes her stand
on tiptoe to peer over Caenis' shoulder. Is it, could it be? "Rhali," she
whispers all her hopes and dreams for the other girl. "Rhali!"
On the sands, Laih hangs on to her confederates' hands, red hair even more
frizzy in this dry, dry heat as she waits.

Madri walks in.
"And gold for Jules," Marlien continues. "Or else Arilynne." She nudges the
person beside her impatiently. "Are you listening to me?" The miner nods
abstractedly and moves away from her insisten t elbow.

On the sands, Jules is so relieved that her friends are impressing, thought's
only going to others, but she keeps an eye out hopefully…for herself.
On the sands, That large boy candidate, the one with the tear in his robe..
he's standing there, and the ranks of candidates are thinning, and his
backside is becoming more and more visible as he breathes, large gulpy
breaths. His toes curl and turn in, his knees knock. He doesn't even much
care about that tear back there, except his bottom is getting toasty as his
feet.
On the sands, Jenara looks on at the remaining eggs and hatchlings..will one of
them find her? she wonders.

Rhia starts muttering again. No one can understand her, and she is completely
oblivious to the world.
K'lora watches, blithely uncaring how cool it is up here, or how hot it may be
down there. She's /watching/. As is Dorianth from a few ledges away.

On the sands, Rhali's lips twitch and curve, brows raise. "Gretchen…what do
you think he's doing?" She kicks a bit at the sand. "And why is everyone
yelling my name?" Oh, she wants. She wats to reach out and touch this tangled
mass of emotion. But…
On the sands, "I'd say — I'd say Impressing you," Gretchen informs Rhali,
rather matter-of-factly. She's got no experience, really, other than what
she's seen so far, and it seems to fit the guidelines.
On the sands, Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown Dragonet will do it for her, then—

On the sands, Tangled Garden Gnome-Brown Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon
Rhali.

On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet wraps that wing around himself
like a blanket and moves farther out toward…who? Two ladies, standing
together, there. Two ladies in candidate robes, well, but they're all wearing
candidate robes, but this one he's looking at just now has brown eyes.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg moves back and forth, slowly enough, before
nearly ending upside down. However, the momentium moves it back, before
falling back in place.
On the sands, Candra smiles, "And Rhali too." She gives Laih's hand another of
those little squeezes, and then back to the rest goes her gaze.
On the sands, Twisting Tessellations Egg z-zips, a talon-marked piece flying
free — with yet another talon behind it.
On the sands, Neo-Classical Egg lets texture by texture fall to the wayside,
colorless fractures dropping to blend in with the sandy oasis. It crumbles,
modern times giving way to an age-old ritual; but there is new life
underneath, one that has a stern and classic appeal all its own.

On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet
On the sands, On this dragonet, even a prominently roman profile — patrician
to the point of abstinence — only serves to emphasize the soulfulness of her
large, forward-set eyes, the sensitive flare of her nostrils, and oh, those
headknobs that tip back into an illusion of innocence. Even her matte peridot
hue conspires, so obligingly demure as it softens the spare line of bone and
sinew; as for those cresting neckridges, they blush with deeper, peaceful
olive, all the way down through the lash of her tail. It takes an unfurling
of those slim wings to give it all away, exposing the tensile strength of
'sails and pale-highlighted 'spars: not just pretty, but quite pointedly
practical.

Wullan blinks as Kalrania nearly deafens her, and just grins up at the Harper.
"Well," she comments when she can hear herself speak once more, "At least we
know they've trained you to /project/…" A wink at the enthusiasm, and she
turns back in time to catch a glimpse of the newest green dragonet emerging,
and sighs, enraptured.
Kalrania calmly observes as she returns to her seat, "Only green and brown
left, Wullan. And there's another. Was Isabeth the last of her clutch to
hatch?" Sure, she hasn't just been screaming her head off.

On the sands, Jules watches warily as the other brown moves closer to the
group. Will he /ever/ choose? Hands go to her robe trying to get the
unforgiving cloth to soak up her excess sweat.

K'lora laughs along with Dorianth, both appreciating the arrival of more Green.
"Yes, she is gorgeous isn't she?"

On the sands, Poisonous Munch Scream-Green Dragonet spies seagulls circling
land. Look! Uneasy knees quivering as full-speed is attained, wobbled
motions wave by the tossing of unseen seas and sends hungry eyes a-whirl with
passions of treasure; teeth bared like fangs to snap at unwelcomed 'hunters.
On the sands, Gretchen glances away from Rhali for the moment, towards the
other brown, and then onwards towards something else; and back again, and on
to the new green, and — she's doing a lot of looking. ".. congratulations
Rhali, congratulations."

On the sands, Is this actor allowed to swoon on stage? To whimper, shout, or
cry when the script dosen't ask for it. Rhali cares not! Arms swing and
collapse about that mossy neck, face brushes that offered snout. That
everything, that's anything and now is her. "Forever Kefteth, forever!"

Wullan looks up at Kalrania. "Oh, indeed she wasn't. She hatched after one or
two others, didn't she Rh'esh? I was Standing right next to G'briel and
Katarra at the time." She winks at G'briel.

On the sands, The feet shuffle, the buttcheeks wiggle. And it's so out there,
so visible, the behind of that large boy candidate. His very large hands,
back there, trying to cover it up, just aren't large enough. And it's worse
than that whole construction worker thing, this visibility, because it's the
middle and not the top, peachy halves bare and reddening.
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet pauses, shaking her wings for just
a moment. Egg shell, megshell. It doesn't matter to her, as she steps out of
the hole her egg made. A blue bumps into her — and gets a hearty bump in
return.

On the sands, "A green," Naomi says, trying to watch all dragons at once. "A
beauty." She hip-hops a little, then all-out jumps a bit to give both her
feet a quick rest from heat. She claps her hands, wipes her brow, and waits,
hip-hopping, dancing.
On the sands, That Tessellations egg cracks — crunches — and out clambers a
squat little bronze, his spinal ridges themselves cracked with blue.

G'briel laughs "Yes, weren't you though? I believe I was pulling your hair and
hers….I just wanted to get off the sands." He shakes his head at Wullan,
then almost nudges Rh'esh off the bench "That green. That is for Ari..I'm
sure of it."

On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet has chosen already— he is just
planning his approach. And closer and closer he approaches, an auburn-haired
lass, yes, brown eyes, yes. Perhaps he should sniff before making his final
decision. Long steps bring him closer and closer, face to face. Dance?
On the sands, Caenis abruptly tightens his hold on Arilynne's hand. "Oh," is
all he offers. He eyes his bit of purple ribbon, eyes the newly wandering
green, eyes the ribbon, eyes Aril, and runs his thumb and forefinger along
the lucky ribbon-charm.
On the sands, "Daniger, Daniger," Wilrobinson pipes up. "Look out, move, move
outta daway! He has the sense to run from that lop-toothed green.

Rh'esh hmms softly to Wullan, distracted by the hatching of a green out on the
sands. "Oh, now that's a lovely lass. Doesn't look impossible to live with,
either." At G'briel's comment, his eyes widen. "Really? You think so? It
would suit her, I imagine."
Cisusse fidgets. "/Uuu/gly," she spouts, thumbs a-twidle. Just for Virrien's
benefit.

On the sands, Arilynne pauses in her hiding and dodging to gawk, and gawk, and
gawk some more. "Now that's a green," she whispers feverently in Caenis' ear.
On the sands, Vindanea eyes the new green dragonet askance. She'd rather
impress a lame herdbeast than impress green, but that one, that one … she
can almost imagine.
On the sands, Laih might avert her eyes from the boy, she might stare — but
hidden as she is behind a taller candidate, the world will never know.
On the sands, Almost Real Egg cracks yet again, in counterpoint to the first
fine line. The mirage holds for a second yet again before flickering. It
must be the heat.
On the sands, Candra's hand has nothing to do now without Magael..M'gael to
hold it. It searches and finds the long dangling chord from her waist and
wraps it round and round.

Kalrania remarks dryly, "Oh, yes. You Impressed from that same clutch, didn't
you, Rh'esh?" Sitting back slightly, she regards him with a sardonically
humorous gaze. "And this the one who said he didn't want to Impress a
dragon," she drawls. "Good old Rhi."

On the sands, Jancent watches the brown head towards the girls, a smile already
on his lips for the lucky Impressor, and eyes track towards a newly hatched
egg, breath catching once more as another Bronze graces the pack with his
presence.
On the sands, So quickly they go at this point— in just a few fluid moments,
two blues hatch and Impress to two quiet boys from Telgar.
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet gives another nudge to her
clutchmate — move it, move it! — before stepping out of the hole. Shaking,
akin to a wet dog, sends shards and goo flying from that sparce and willow
frame, before she looks around. Mom! Dad! *warble!* How ya doin?
On the sands, Jules wonders what the brown is looking at and why he'e waiting
there..shouldn't he be looking for his partner? She does a little hop-skip to
relieve the heat burns on her soles and watches him from the corner of her
eye. Yup. He's still sitting there!
On the sands, Rhali will just say here in a squeaking, joyful pile, if you
don't mind. Thin fingers stroke wing edge, smear egg-wetness, like oil rubbed
into hide. "Mmmhmm."
On the sands, The blue-cracked bronze finds all four feet — wobbles there for
a moment — and extending incongruously slim wings for balances, races for
the ripped-robed candidate of his choice before anything else can get in the
way, because he won't be able to stop anytime soon!
On the sands, Kolyath warbles back: g'wan, g'wan.
On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet has, has, has found his
partner. To prove it, he extends a wing forward. Dance? No one is watching.
Dance? C'mon.

Creer walks in.
G'briel nods "Yes….definitely for Ari…..and it will suit you too" he
teases, looking sideways. "No fuss, and she'll probably clean up after
you…"
Creer nods to Brakton.

[-FortLC-] Shava enters from the lower caverns.
[-FortLC-] Shava heads out into the immense bowl.

On the sands, Naomi glances around, dancing in the heat, sweating up a flood,
and stares around her, tired from heat and excitement and wasted adrenaline.
On the sands, Gretchen shifts, stabs the sand with her sandled foot, and takes
a step left; then back right. And she looks at her feet, the sand glistening
on her dark skin. Obvious, there. And she's not really paying attention,
no, because Rhali's gone and there's no one to talk to, and it's hard. Hard.

Brakton waves to the trader, "Creer, have a seat. There's a spare by me; nobody
will sit by the evil Lord Holder."
Creer nods and smiles to Moriel.
Shava follows one of the staircases up.

On the sands, Shem is foolish enough to start stalking a stray bronze, possibly
the one Jancent's eying, across the sands. He tries to be magnetic. He
tries to be severe. He tries to beam manliness across the sands and only
succeeds in showing how the old Blood doesn't always breed true.

Creer chuckles and moves to take up the seat, "Why thank you Lord Brakton. A
pleasure as always. What have I missed?"

On the sands, Arien might be watching — but if she is, she doesn't tell, too
busy splashing her neck with water from her belt-slung 'skin.

K'lora would sit by the evil Lord Holder if she'd thought of it earlier. Now,
engrossed, she /watches/. Still.

On the sands, Illuminated Manuscript Egg shudders once again, one more long
crack showing. Etching.

Cisusse gasps and slaps a hand furious across her eyes. /She's/ not here. Not
for Creer to see, anyways. But then… she can't see, either. Oh, well.

On the sands, That large boy candidate, the large nearly bare candidate, is
suddenly covered with wingsails, hidden by his bronze.. /his/ bronze, that
beautiful, wonderful, perfect.. that hungry bronze, the bronze that is
nudging him, one wing held discreetly at the boy's back, gently toward the
outskirts, toward the food and the solace of the wall.
On the sands, Illuminated Manuscript Egg colors itself with crack after crack,
so evenly spaced, so beautifully executed, a nod to the mightiness of the
scribe's pen. In the end, the shell falls apart like parchment torn carefully
from end to end into dozens of tiny, precise, shard strips.

On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet
On the sands, Some indulgent scribe might have traced this pale, dark-eyed
dragonet from the crescent moon, requiring but a flick of gilded brush to
delineate sharp angles of spine and tail from the fluid, curvilinear strokes
of muzzle, of neck, of wings. Seeming all effortless gentility, still she's
branded with sailor's warning: sunrise illuminates her paper-thin sails with
fey red-gold, a complex pattern etched ever thinner and finer from
blood-tipped ailerons to prosaic, dark-smudged spars.

On the sands, Jules is totally bewildered at the brown hatchling's actions and
just continues to hop-skip..hop-skip. What is he doing?She looks to the
others next to her and says, "Is he looking at you?"
On the sands, Poisonous Munch Scream-Green Dragonet has a claim to stake, a
world to conquer.. No, share? Full stop, the raging green pauses before the
oblivious lad rubbing sand from eyes and twitches tailtip as if some white
flag: Friend or foe— she shall ask Dainger.
On the sands, Caenis pales. "Oh, Aril, look — she's beautiful." The 'she'
implied is the gold, though his eyes continue to flick over varied greens.

Creer notices Bri and smiles and waves. He's not sure if he's disturbing
people on the sands….

On the sands, Cavalier Chevalier-Brown Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon
Jules.
On the sands, Arilynne clutches at Caenis' robe, wrinkling it in her excitement
as she stares at the newly emerged green and hopes, "Oh goodness, must she
begin with the pleasantries?" And then, "Gold!" But Aril's got her eye and
her heart elsewhere.
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet is admonished, and she begins to
wander toward those white things. That is where she's suppose to go, right?
She doesn't have any arms, but she does have limbs. Lots of limbs, as she
moves toward the others.
On the sands, "Not me," Naomi denies, still dancing from the heat. "He can't
be. It's /you/." She grins at Jules happily.

Rhia stands up and screasm, "GO FOR THE GOLD< LAIH< JENARA< AND JULES!!!"
Kalrania's eyes widen at the sight of the gold. "Why, 'tis a fine queen," she
trills. "And look - Jules has a green - JULES!" Indiscriminately hugging the
people before her, she screams once more, "Jules!" Ah, Harpers shall have
their day."A brown for Jule."

On the sands, Daniger can see again, at last, but what a sight it is. He looks
shocked, at first, and then just turns to goo. "Hazmath! Her name is Hazmath!"

On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet wastes no time. She is awake.
She is alive. And she is standing up, standing proud, squaring her shoulders,
and walking /forward/. Help? Who needs help? Certainly not /her/. Forward?
Well, with a bit of trouble, but she manages it. There. That looked right. Of
course it did.

Cartha gasps. Her first hatching and a /Gold/ she just saw a /Gold/ hatch?
Who whill get it? Her eyes flick from acadndidate to canditdate. Breath
held in anticipation.

On the sands, Gretchen brushes her robe at the hip, and — at a few swooning
breaths from other candidates — looks up to see the gold hatch and Jules
Impress, almost simultaniously. "Jules? Jules!" Surprised, and then
congratulatory.

Marlien announces (loudly), "Gold! Gold for Arilynne. Jules, your brown is
beautiful, but you won't get gold. That's okay though. " After a moment of
thoughtful contemplation, she amends, "Maybe Laih. But probably Arilynne."
Cisusse giggles. Titters. Snickers. Looking at the gold.

On the sands, Jenara fidgets a bit despite the best-intended determination.
Her hands grasp the uneven stiches that seam her robe, fabric seen through
fists.

Moriel Nodds distractedly to Creer, so much to watch…
Rhia screams again, "GO JULES!!!"

On the sands, Heat's drawn moisture curls the little fine hairs about Candra's
face even as she grins to see another friend Impress, "Jules!" But then she
sees that /that/ egg has hatched, and her attention is pulled to the new
gilded dragonete.

Wullan claps her hands in delight as Jules Impresses that brown. "Ooo, another
Harper! There'll be no apprentices left if this keeps up," she says to
Kalrania, with a wink.

On the sands, N'fra wanders over to Rhali, glancing down to "Kefteth.
Wonderful. Will you two follow me off to the side here, with the others?" Of
course.
On the sands, Gold? Someone said gold? Here's Vinnie's chance. She steps
forward, steels herself, focuses herself, purifies like a blade through
trials of fire and water. She wants this for Gr'ym. She wants this for
J'dano. Here! she shouts internally. Over here!
On the sands, Zephre is quick to circle toward newly Impressed pairs,
shepherding a pair of blues before turning back to catch the latest batch.

G'briel's eyes sparkle at sight of the gold….smiles "Very lovely. But Aril
will get that green for sure. And look…that brown finally chose, to." He
nudges Rh'esh again, and looks to Wullan "Bring back memories?" he teases,
meaning the gold.

On the sands, Arilynne grabs at Caenis again, "Look, she's moving." But a
name, a shout, a hoorah distracts the girl from the green and she spies Jules
and her new lifemate. "Jules! I knew you could do it!"
On the sands, Jancent's eyes sweep the sands to take a tally of dragonets, and
gaze is caught and held by— Gold! A breathtaking sight, "Oh, /wow/." But
that's not for him, and he knows it. Eyes linger on the straightforward
beauty, then drift to the other eggs, worriedly hopeful as he notes the
dwindling numbers. A green Impresses, a brown, and hazel eyes search for
as-yet unImpressed dragonets.

On the sands, Jules is wondering why he's still…."Oh my! Veluth?" Jules
tries..tasting a name whispered in her head oh so gently, "Veluth! Oh you're
for /me/?" Jules eyes are glowing with the sudden tears sprung.

Kalrania replies to Wullan, "There are always apprentices" even as she
scribbles down brown Veluth - Jules.

On the sands, Almost Real Egg convulses and there! That mirage stays still for
once, the foliage-dispersing breeze alighted. Its time has come, the colors
melting down the shell even as it cracks — softly, so as to distract only
those that are watching. For a lump of brown is left in shell's wake, and
out he parades with shifting gaze.

On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet
On the sands, Boundaries — what boundaries? This dragonet's a creature of
rebellion — albeit jaunty rebellion — with even the hue of his hide taking
sides: that heated brown's tugged off-kilter between the rusty-musty muzzle
that houses such eagerly exploring eyes, the henna that stains barreled chest
and sturdy haunches, the yet more flagrant cinnabar that melts mercurially
warped dapplings about matte talons and tick-ticking tail.

On the sands, B'nal fetches Jules and Veluth, once they've had time to secure
their bond.

Wullan smiles at G'briel, examining the gold hatchling critically. "She is
lovely, isn't she?", says imp, flicking a chestnut braid G'briel-wards. "I
wonder to whom she will Impress." Up on the Ledge, Isabeth croons a greeting
towards the newest gold on Pern down on the Sands below.
Zathrus walks in.
Rhia does the Funky Wherry. "Go LAIH! GO JENARA!" she yells down at the sands.

On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet shakes her shimmy and gets all
those pesky shards from that pesky egg off her talons, her feet, her
haunches. And now to /business/. Whirling eyes search the lines and circles
and clumps of girls, and most of them she passes over. Where is she? Where
/is/ she?

Rh'esh starts as the gold hatches, his eyes drawn to it, as if by magnets.
"Lovely gold… but you're right, not suited to Arilynne at all. Oh… and
what an odd brown. Handsome but… I think I'd spend too much time puzzling
him out." He flashes a grin at Wullan. "The gold's no where near as lovely
as Isabeth, though, of course."

On the sands, Rhali blinks. Reality? Where? Go away! But Reality is N'fra and
hunger, both to be obeyed. "C'mon Kef. Yes, meat. I'll eat with you. We can
eat it all up. All right and good." Hand atop deliciously gnomish head, the
pair shuffles over.
On the sands, "Look at the brown!" Naomi cries, tearing her eyes from brown to
green excitedly. "Oh, they're all so gorgeous." She smiles, looking at the
gold, unable to speak. That's one beautiful dragon…
On the sands, Gr'ym remains perched on Kolyath's foot, looking over at Vinnie.
Maybe, maybe not.

K'lora turns to the Istan Rider at that, dragging attention from the Sands.
"Now now, bronze-rider. Let's not start that today? All dragons are lovely,
in their way." Of Dorianth is Most Lovely.

On the sands, Jancent sees a new Dragonet, and he swallows hard, well aware
that his chances at Impressing drop with each Impression. The brown is
looked over, longed for, his gaze hopeful yet resigned. He nods as he
overhears an exclamation Naomi-wards, and he agrees quietly, "Yeah."

Wullan preens at the praise to her lifemate. "True, true," she agrees, sipping
at the white wine and watching the red-gold one below begin her very own
Search. "Isn't Arilynne that girl you two, uh, abducted not so long ago?"

On the sands, Gretchen steps nearer another candidate — Dolan, is it? — and
gives him a faked smile: hello, hi, I don't really care but I'll pretend I
do. "Enjoying this?" she wonders, every so often allowing her glance to
flicker towards some dragons' progress.
On the sands, Shem is about ready to take anything. He does his best to
project, to advertise. Brown? Brown is sufficient. Blue is slightly
sub-standard, but if that's all that's left, he'll take it; he'll take it.
He stalks toward the new brown.
On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet shakes himself quickly
before multi-faceted eyes glance around at this alternative reality. So much
of everything, so much of nothing. Could he be more vague? You betcha. A
hesistant step is taken forward…
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet stops at a pair of girls, before
shaking her head. Fragile. Break in a breeze. And that one's a bit short. She
moves, slowly, creeping along the bodies, almost stalking as flat chest
barely moves with in-out-in-out breathing.
On the sands, Arien's hazel gaze rests a moment on that dragonet with the
ruddy-scrolled wings — speculative, surely, with her piratical dam's dam
Katrineth — and then slides to Candra and Jancent, the rope-climbers of last
sevenday's escapade. And Laih: there /she/ is. There.
On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet pushes forward, sure that
dragonets and candidates and anybody else in her way will just melt away
they ought to, after all. Looking, looking, searching
who, where is that
one she wanted to come back? Who was that? So many pesky hands on her pesky
egg. Who was that?
On the sands, Dolan is one of the older candidates. He's stood five times
already, and by now, he's developed an anxious lottery-ticket atittude toward
them. "Sure." Nervous enthusiasm rings true. "You?"
On the sands, Caenis keeps tugging on Aril with one hand and crumpling his
lucky ribbon with the other. "Look!" At everything, apparently; his head
whips this way and that, lanky hair flying.
On the sands, Naomi bounces excitedly, overwhelmed with lotsa dragons, and
lotsa friends turned candidates turned weyrlings. She claps her hands
together softly, smiling, yet still /hopping/, in a beaten-up, wrinkled,
yellowed robe.
On the sands, Candra tangles her free hand all in that dangling chord, but
then, the hand isn't exactly free, nor is the chord dangling. She fidgets
now, and not entirely do to sand's heat, as she watches the dragonets roam.

G'briel chuckles "The very same, Wullan..though it was never abduction. She
was just visiting." And said with perfect innocence, too."

On the sands, Jules can't see anyone but the handsome brown in front of her,
despite B'nal's urgings to ..what? Oh yes..off the sands she must go. Bad
Jules..must think of Veluth now, Oh and yes I know your hungry! she finally
allows B'nal to lead them to the side.
On the sands, "Oh, it's fine, just fine," Gretchen agrees, pretending to have
the same attitude as he, without actually having it. She does a good job,
though, if you don't know her. She seems apparently calm — apparently.
Sure, she's sweaty, but who isn't by now?

Wullan chuckles, long and low, and sips again. She flips her braids behind her
head. "/Visiting/, then."

On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet spies… something. Fluttering and
crumpled, moving along with a speed that she just missed. That requires a
closer look, as body slinks, moving toward an ill-fitted robe, and waving …
something.
On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet works her way forward, forward
some more. Who's that girl with the tangly hair? Is she the one? No, no
tangly hair for her. Wait, who's that? Straight, straight hair. Yes. And skin
dark as she is light. Nothing like a little contrast to make a lady's life.
Who /is/ that?
On the sands, Jancent finds himself twisting the end of his robe with
sweat-smeared fingers, wipes said digits off with a nervous swipe, his other
hand moving to do the same for his forehead. Feet still shifting, it's
mostly just instinct, since such pain is long-since forgotten. The brown is
eyed, with an occasional glance towards the green, and almost painful breaths
are taken with each new focus.

Rh'esh grins. "Yes, yes, she came visiting." Then Rh'esh abandoned her at
Fort Weyr. Funny how things work, hmm? "I knew her from Fort Hold. Oh…
looks like that green is investigating her, isn't she?" He cranes his neck
to better see.

On the sands, Arilynne looks, and keeps on looking, everywhere and yet her eyes
keep going back, not to gold, but to green. Not to summer's shine but to
peridot verdancy. And is it coming closer… but she's not looking at Aril
and so the girl steps back.
On the sands, Dolan spares a glance at an oncoming dragonet, but lo and behold,
it's gold and of no use to him. He gives the dragonet a little nod, just a
little one to oh-so-subtly redirect Gretchen's attention. "Company."
On the sands, Caenis steps back when Aril does — they are kind of attached,
after all.
On the sands, Gretchen looks once, twice, and the frequency of her glances
increases as she spies that gold coming. To Dolan, she nods, "Right,
company." And then she blinks, brows scrunched on her forehead. "Company?"
She's still looking, more at the dragon than at him.
On the sands, Naomi takes a deep breath, pausing in her hopping to wipe her
brow. The heat gets to her, and she continues dancing quickly, trying to
smooth out the wrinkled hatching gown, but wrinkled it is, and wrinkled it
will stay.
On the sands, Arien fidgets. And then there had been Rhali — glance — and
how's Fiona doing? — glance — and Vinnie, and Arda up in the stands; at
least she had been; she mightn't be now. And indeed, even her searching
misses the smoke-eyed girl on the stairs, breathless-close to the sands.
On the sands, Dolan has the drill down, stepping back and away, wearing his
James Bond smile while keeping an eye on Miss Moneypenny.

Wullan peers down. "I don't believe that the gold is going for Arilynne," she
comments, musedly, on the edge of her seat with excitement. "Who's that
black-skinned woman? I think it's her the dragon wants."

On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet is a swift-thinking lady, and
she makes her choices swiftly and finally. Company. She moves forward to
stare at the girl, the dark girl, to lean close to inspect.
On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet hops a few steps forward,
then stops, almost stumble. He spies something…something intriguing about
this whole new world. Green, glorious green. Rushing forward, prompted by
the tumblings of his rumbling belly, he barrels into Patrician Milo-Green
Dragonet. Maw opens and tongue whips out. Mmm, green tail.

Rh'esh watches the dual drama on the sands, eyes flashing back and forth
between green and gold. "I don't know. I don't recognize her. You're right
about the gold being interested in her, though." His hands tighten into
fists, fingers crossing.

On the sands, Vindanea can see it coming. Boy, can she see it coming. In a
way it's a relief. She's off the hook. She throws Candra a look. Their
ranks have been thinned, and now they're like lonely flowers in a late autumn
bed.
On the sands, Gretchen looks back at the dragonet, giving her just as much of
an inspection, if the truth be known — just .. what is she? Shards, what is
this anyhow? One hand slides to the small of her back, and she gives the
gold a look: so, yeah. What're you going to do now? It's the only attitude
she can think to affect.

S'era follows one of the staircases up.

On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet almost yelps, before she turns,
trying to pull her tail out of his grasp. She moves, trying to get to that
crumple of waviness, trying to get behind that scrawny boy that's moved back
with that other one — and that thing! The wavy thing. Still, she's trying to
get behind him.. off, clutchmate, off!
On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet knows what to do next. It's
only natural. It's the only thing to do, after all.

G'briel doesn't know her. "I haven't met her before…..is the green going to
Ari then?" He looks a bit worried about it "It's perfect for her..hope the
hatchling sees it…."

On the sands, Indulgent Inscribed Gold Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon
Gretchen.

On the sands, Naomi smirks as she sees the brown dragon. Snacktime? Very
funny. Hip-hop, hip-hop, hip-hop. The green's attempts to remove him only
make her burst out laughing. She stifles each giggle with poor results,
doubling over, still hopping.

Marlien breathes, "Gretchen. Whatda ya know. It's Gretchen."

On the sands, Jancent's eyes moving from to brown to green to brown again, he
almost laughs aloud as he sees them nearing, closing, and a chuckle does
escape his lips as the brown attaches himself to the unsuspecting green. The
first laugh he's had his entire time on the Sands, and it does much to
release built-up tension.

Wullan raises her mug in toast to the newest weyrwoman, echoed by Isabeth on
the Viewing Ledges, then swivels to wave at S'era. "S'era! I've good Benden
white…" With a few maneuvers, yet another mug is produced.

On the sands, Candra smiles an odd little smile at Vinnie's look, and then a
truer one for Gretchen, though that pairing needs no words from her, so she
gives none.

Creer heads along the narrow walkway to the dragons' ledges.
Kalrania echoes Wullan. "Silva - er, S'era! Get down here!" Dear me. All her
friends are 'riders now.

On the sands, Caenis tries to dart out of the way of the dragonets without
stumbling over Arilynne, muttering something about teeth and claws, teeth and
claws — "Hey, look out, you'll hurt yourself! Or us!" Purplish ribbon
flutters away as he tries to dart aside, and he winces as he grabs at it —
they said no distractions! Uh-oh, busted.

On the sands, Gretchen peeks to either side of her — did anyone else see this,
feel this? And then she leans forward, too, placing a hand at the dragon's
neck, feeling her — really touching her — instead of being overwhelmed with
emotions. "Jespeth?" A question, frankly. Maybe she didn't Impress, she's
not sure. Or is she? Denial? It's one way out.

"Benden white?" S'era doesn't bother watching a new weyrwoman, eyes darting
towards Wullan. "Hi!" The rider strides towards Kalrania and Wullan,
pushing roughly past some gawking weyrbrats.

On the sands, B'nal squints at Caenis. Purple ribbons?
On the sands, Arilynne steps back again, and just in time to see the gold
Impress to "Gretchen!" And a satisfied smile alights on the girl's face,
yes, Gretchen. Sighing softly she turns her gaze back to the green, tangled
amidst the brown, and she can't help it. She giggles and points, forgetting
for a moment just how prideful the little green seems.
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet finally gets herself free, purple
ribbon falling on her muzzle, that selfsame muzzle skidding into the sand.
Ooof. Eyes blinkblink, getting out sand, before she peers up to its owner.
Um… excuse me. You dropped this.

Wullan just pours for the greenrider, holding out the mug as she arrives. "A
toast! To Hatchings, to our lifemates, and to the new Fort Weyrlings!"
Anything to take a drink…

On the sands, From her place against Gyrfath's flank, Fiona moves forward,
toward the newest gold pair. "Jespeth, was it? Gretchen, can you think to
move? Let's get you two off to the side— the weyrlingmasters will want to
talk to you in a bit, get her fed."

Kalrania nods piously. "The Fort Weyrlings." Slip mea mug too, Wullan. Brianna
isn't looking.

On the sands, Arien splashes herself again, the waterskin near-empty now; and
her mobile features, well, they've but a smile.

Wullan quirks an eyebrow at Kalrania, and hands her a mug. "I know you aren't
supposed to have this, but," wink, "it's a special occasion, now isn't it?"
Scooping up the mug, S'era lifts it, a pleased smirk twisting her lips. "Yes!
And to good Benden White!" The smirk dies to a quick, teasing grin. "If you
don't think you should, you /can/ give it to me, Kalrania, you know."

On the sands, Caenis all but shrinks into himself. "I /meant/ to keep that
hidden," he mumbles to Arilynne. "Good luck charm," he adds weakly, after a
moment to both girl and dragonet. He reaches out, very hesitently, as if to
take his bit of pretty back — but mustn't touch the green, nooooo. They
said not to.

Brianna probably is looking, but as Bri tends to be a quiet,
fade-into-the-walls sort of person, she doesn't say a thing. Yet. For the
moment.

On the sands, Kefteth is lost in a bowl of meat, tail twisting like a
crankshaft, to bring food down a conveyer-belt throat. Rhali is just as lost.
Have things quieted yet? No? Good. Bring on the noise. "Horray!"
On the sands, Gretchen doesn't really notice anyone, no; and if she forgets to
say thanks, well, that's because she's too — overwhelmed. Indulged.
Indulged in a dragon. Then she coaxes, or maybe it's the other way around,
but either way, she and Jespth move out of everyone else's way, to the sides.
Joining the others.
On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet will make the distance, she will,
as her muzzle reaches up to come within reach. You and me, Caenis? Truce?
Yes. Peace.

On the sands, Patrician Milo-Green Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Caenis.

On the sands, Vindanea still has hope. The eggs are gone and yet there are a
few dragonets dragging themselves across the sand like sheep without a
shepherd. It's weak hope, but it's hope nonetheless.
On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet feels his first pangs of
disappointment in this new world as the green moves around from him. But
another new sensation strikes him as he mourns; the sound of laughter
drifting across the sands. Getting up - taking just a bit of time - he heads
for the source of that sound. Must go, must go, must find, must find.

G'briel shakes his head, frowning "I was sure……" he sighs. "Well….I'm
not good at this guessing thing, it seems."

On the sands, Arilynne nibbles on her lower lip and nudges Caenis a bit closer
than his caution allowed. "Seems to work," she sighs, tamping down on the
envy. And then, "Caenis! You did it!!" Is he deaf yet?

Kalrania affects an expresion of anelic sweetness. "Why, I think I will," she
announces. "After all, three of myu friends Impressed today. I drink to the
Harper Hall…" And she downs half the mug. It seems she has had practice in
this…before she became an appie, of course.

On the sands, M'gael is there, really, in the crowd of dragonets and weyrlings,
one of many paired and partnered: he's with that bronze, that Theronth,
crouched against each other and watching, waiting, wondering — what's to
come?
On the sands, Dolan finds himself in the way of a determined blue. He tries to
do the polite dodge again, but he's tracked down. It takes him off guard,
how wonderful it is to impress.
On the sands, Naomi watches the brown intently, a wide grin on her face. "What
personality," she comments quietly. "Congratualtions, Caenis!" she shouts,
remembering the green and her lucky rider.
On the sands, Gr'ym leans, sweat-damp, against the nearest piece of Kolyath,
watching still. No more of those pesky hands on that pesky gold egg.
On the sands, Jules is busy with her pail, thoughtfully given to her by a
rider. She selects slices and says entreatingly to her new partner, "Eat, but
you /have/ to chew..oh no…not that fast!"
On the sands, Candra misses Caenis' Impression. She's looking off to the sands
that once held that sprial of eggs, but where the shards are left now. Then
her gaze moves on to see the pair together that she had missed.
On the sands, Jancent leans forward to get a better view of the green, and he
grins as he sees the interchange, "Caenis!" His smile stays on, sincere yet
wistful, and he chews lightly on his lower lip before calling again,
"Congratulations!" Eyes stay on the pair as he awaits mention of a name.

Brianna chooses this moment to make her way up behind Kalrania. Only polite to
greet people you know at a Hatching, even if you stared placidly at the sands
for the great majority of it and said not a thing to anyone. "Hello.Having a
nice time?"

On the sands, Caenis blinks for a moment, hand stilling. He takes the scrap of
ribbon then, and tucks it back into his belt. "You know my /name/," he says,
almost giddily. "Of course I'm yours, Paxith — and I've got bunches more
ribbon that you can have."

On the sands, N'fra gives a faint smile at that, as she walks behind Caenis.
"Paxith?" A smile comes, an approving nod. "Would you two like to follow me
over to the others?"

Kalrania doesn't even flinch. She twists around and cries good-naturedly, "Why,
Journeywoman! I was just looking for you to offer you this fine Benden wine,
supplied by queenrider Wullan." With a lovely smile, sh e offers the mug to
Brianna.
Wullan raises a chestnut brow at the appearance, seemingly out of nowhere, of
the Harper journeyman. "Greetings, Journeyman," she says brashly
forestalling Kalrania's reaction. "I was just having Kalrania here hold my
mug for me while I poured…"
Kalrania winces as Wullan changes the story. "Bad, very tacky, Wullan," she
murmurs. "Why don't you let me take care of the story next time?"

On the sands, Arilynne bounces for her friend, and yet now she finds herself
alone. Sidling up towards Naomi, she beams. "Mind if I join you?"
On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet plods his way through the
heat of the sands, searching, searching. He wants to find the elusive
sensation now, not later. A gangly lad is snapped at, standing mere meters
away from the dragonet. No, not you…something else.

"They're both wrong. It's my mug." S'era smiles happily, setting her own mug
on the seat. "She was just about to give it to me. Wasn't she?"

On the sands, Vindanea likewise drifts toward Candra. "Not much longer now,"
she says, and it's like a shadow puppet of her voice. The fingers are
moving, but the dog's not barking.
On the sands, Caenis grins foolishly, boyishly, and nods to N'fra. "Yes'm,
riderma'am." He follows Paxith, now un-festooned with ribbon.
On the sands, Jespeth has no trouble scootching to the sides with Gretchen,
it's the dark, Igen woman who's struggling — to understand, mostly. This is
.. amazing. "Oh, shards. Oh *shards*." Repetition. Can't be good. Or can
it? What could be bad? ".. Jespeth." Fond.

Brianna can only make a face, head wagging vigorously "No thank you…I've
grown used to it's absence." After so long as a placid, rule-abiding
apprentice, how could she not? Eyes flick to and fro, humor dancing within
but not /quite/ touching those ever-so-serious lips "Oh, really?"
Wullan shrugs almost imperceptibly and grins at Brianna. "Well, you could
certainly have some, Journeyman. What a wonderful day for Harper Hall, what
with so many Standing - and Impressing." Change the subject, ayup.

On the sands, Naomi grins happily at Arilynne. "Certainly. I would be
pleased." Naomi turns back to the brown man, and watches the dragon intently.
On the sands, Candra nods to Vinnie, hand finally untangling from the chord.
"Be nice to get someplace cool." That's all she has to say? Yep.

"Yes," Kalrania follows up Wullan. "All my friends are leaving me! Wullan,
Rhali, S'era, Jules, Ilaria. Next it'll be Phaedra and Valyn and all the
rest. There won't be an appy left in the Hall." Ooh, not s o slick. Don't
bring up the word apprentice. With that, she smiles up once more. "Did you
ever stand for a clutch, Journeyaman?"

On the sands, Jancent looks again across the sands, and he sees but a lone
dragonet — a brown. He smiles sadly to the Hatchling, stepping forward to
see who else remains on the Sands, fingers unknowingly picking at the edges
of his robe again, feet shifting once again as the heat takes over, and he
scootches sideways over to the others.

Cartha peers at the sands quizically. What about the brown? What about the
brown………

On the sands, Arilynne joins in the dragon gawking, waiting to see where he
goes, who he chooses and where he'll travel.

Brianna can only look shocked at that, her eyes bugging out ever so slightly.
"Me? I should hope not! The idea…" And a few more, muttered comments "I'm
simply not the sort, I don't think."

On the sands, Vindanea lets out a sigh. Leftover meatrolls must feel this way.
Everyone loves a meatroll, but sometimes there are just a few leftover that
no one wants to touch. "Weaverhall?" she asks Candra, losing hope in the
sands. Of course, Candra might yet impress.

Kalrania springs upon the subject. "Why, of course you are, Brianna. You should
have a queen, I think. Everyone knows how disorganized Weyrs are," flapping
her hands to indicate this, "And you could bring such /order/! What would you
do to shape up a Weyr's internal affairs, Journeyman?"

On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet can see it now; the source,
the wellspring. Trying to hurry now, he encounters another obstacle in the
form of a short girl. Silly. You're not for me; skirting around her, he
targets someone who is no illusion and all realtiy. Ahh.

Marlien slides forward, having caught all of this oh-so-interesting very
incriminating conversation. "Why Kalrania," she says gracefully, "You've
gotten some wine for me. How nice." With that, she drains the other half.
Beathat, beathat, beathat!
K'lora rather likes left-over meatrolls herself.
Wullan raises her other eyebrow at Kalrania. "Goodness, I think we do all
right, don't you all?" indicating S'era, G'briel and Rh'esh. A rumble from
the Ledges and Isabeth turns her luminescent eyes on the humans in the
Galleries. "Isabeth /certainly/ does."

On the sands, Candra watches the last one. "Don't know. You?" As may Vinnie.
Not quite done yet, no fat lady singing.
On the sands, Naomi hip-hops some more, lightheartedly watching the brown,
blinking gray-green eyes with expectation and hope—just a little. Old,
badly mended robe bounces limply around her in time to her bouncing, as she
tries not to burn her feet.

You overhear Kalrania murmur in an undertone, " Please, … … … just …
along." to Wullan
Brianna's slightly shocked expression turns to one of raised-eyebrow amusement,
lips quirking ever so slightly. "You're trying to flatter me so I'll forget
the wine. Aren't you? I'm not quite /that/ shocked, thank you." Another
amused flick.
Chestnut braids are tossed over Wullan's shoulder as arms cross before her and
she glares at Kalrania. Better say something, /fast/.

On the sands, Vindanea draws a deep breath. "Winecraft. Or Harry." Not
Smithcraft. That's not a possibility just yet. She's had enough rejection
for months to come.

S'era perfers left-over meatrolls. Or wineskin. "Harpers always impress,
though. It's the music. That's what I think." The rider swirls her wine in
it's mug, sweet smile tickling her lips. "That's the only way…" Lashes
dip down, and she stares at Brianna. "They're right, though. What wine,
though? I didn't see any wine. It's water."
G'briel reaches out a hand, snatching the wine in question "If truth be known,
Journeywoman, it was my wine, and I asked her to hold it. I was sure that
Arilynne would get that green, and the rest of these folk were afraid that I
would spill on their finery." He beams up at the harper. "So perhaps, on
this day of festivity, we can let it pass? She was only being helpful." His
eyes move to Kalrania "You know..the truth would have been much easier from
the beginning" he murmurs with amusement.

On the sands, Arilynne may be off to Healer Hall herself, brown is given a
look, perhaps the last shred of hope. Wishful thinking as Aril watches him,
awaiting his choice.
On the sands, Candra reminds her, just in case she forgot. "You didn't want to
do that." And there's Laih, whom she holds onto yet, hot hands together.

"I never flatter, Journeyman," Kalrania lies with a straight face. "It's
dihonest. And as everyone knows, I'm a very honest person." Hot glare is
given to Wullan. /You/ aren't going to get threedays stable duty. You're a
Weyrwoman. Sick glance is given to S'era andto G'briel as he snatches the
wine from Marlien's hands. Glancing up to Brianna, she repeats weakly, "A
very hoest person."

On the sands, Jancent watches the brown again, chuckling softly as the dragonet
dodges the short girl, head shaking slightly, not all hope lost, but reality
faced with a resigned sadness. A wistful glint still in his eyes, he pauses
in his sidling and watches the brown, in order to see his chosen.

Marlien glares at G'briel as he rudely takes the wine. "Meanie riders, beating
up on poor innocent little weyrlasses," she mutters.
Maer approaches along the narrow walkway from the dragons' ledges.

On the sands, Oh, yes, Laih. It's not as if Vinnie's been ignoring her, but
Candra—she's spoken to Candra. Candra has Vinnie's seal of approval. "I
know, but …" She shrugs. "It's as good as anything until … until .
. ." She doesn't know. She should have stopped there.

G'briel smiles at Marlien and takes a sip, before giving it back "My apologies,
m'lady" he murmurs. "I had not realized you wanted it to badly. It is
yours. Rh'esh will tell you I do not drink much in any case."
Brianna steeples her finger now, an odd thing to do while standing. But a habit
is a habit. "So, she either lied to me when she offered me the wine, or she's
been drinking. Which is worse, I wonder…" Not that Bri has a bad reputation
for handing out severe punishment…but this is /fun/.
Maer's late. Big surprise. If she annoys the heavyset couple she squeezes past
with a "Scuse me, pardon me," she doesn't seem to care much. At least she's
got a seat.

On the sands, Candra isn't going to delve into that right here, right now on
the sands. But later, always later. She'll remember and corner Vinnie again,
unless something changes that 'until'.

Marlien waves it away. "It's not important. i was joking." Endearing smile is
added oto assurance as she returns her attention to the tableau before her.
"I think you're in trouble, Kalrania."

On the sands, Jenara watches and waits, big-eyed and hopeful. And hot. So hot.

Brianna adds "And so far it's been…how many people's mug? Whose is it?"

On the sands, Shem, meanwhile, can't figure out what happened to his bronze.
It should be here somewhere, but now that he's counting, the clutch seems to
have come up one short.

Kalrania submissively points to Wullan. She was the one who produced it.

On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet steps, steps, steps, then
stops. Here I am, here you are. Paused before Jancent, he raises his head
and creels slightly. Do it again..laugh!

On the sands, Persistently Odd Dali-Brown Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon
Jancent.

On the sands, Naomi watches Impression. A slight sadness shows in her eyes…
she sighs. "Congratulations, Jancent," she calls.

G'briel smiles to Brianna. "It is ever the apprentice's first instinct to
cover themselves from punishment, even if they have no reason for it" he
muses "I know I did as an apprentice. You cannot fault the girl for
instinct." He shrugs at the journeywoman's amused counting. "I believe it
is human nature, as well."

On the sands, Candra blinks. "There he goes." So, there goes that.
On the sands, Vindanea looks up. "Jancent," she notes, but knowing he wouldn't
notice if she said anything or not, she refrains.

"Survival instincts," Kalrania assures her with aplomb. "I grew up in a
trader's caravan, you know." Oh, this is getting better and better.

On the sands, And there it is, the final one chosen, the last one gone.
"Congratulations Jancent," is called across the Sands to the boy and then
Aril awaits patiently, ready for the name, ready for the final demonstration
of the bond between dragon and man.

On the sands, Jancent looks frantically to each side, eyes wide, but then that
voice pierces his thoughts, and a breath is sucked in almost painfully, and
he kneels down slowly, eyes hopeful and bright, and that breath is expelled
in an incredulous half-chuckle, tears springing to his eyes, and he whispers
softly, careful that he doesn't break the spell, "Byrnith?"

Brianna just stands, looking as amused as Bri can be, for whatever reason. She
nods once to G'briel, head tilting "I never did it, I don't think. But I was
a very boring apprentice." and a nod at Kalrania "And I lived with traders
for a time, also." Down with that excuse…in Bri's mind, at least.

On the sands, Adara smiles. "Browns," she notes to no one in particular.
"Gotta love 'em," she grins as she gathers herself and heads off the Sands.

Cheering at the top of her lungss, not of (for ) the candidate, but for the
last brown dragon. Ga(Cartha) jumps to her feet Amber eyes shineing.

On the sands, Gr'ym blots his forehead with the back of his forearm; his smile
is dim, bittersweet.
On the sands, Adara gingerly heads across the burning sands towards the exit.
On the sands, Lynda's head shakes to Adara, a thin smile cracking upon her
lips, "/Suuuure/…" she murmurs over to her friend and clutchmate.
On the sands, Lynda gingerly heads across the burning sands towards the exit.
On the sands, Kh'rys glances toward Gr'ym, her face… well, troubled could be
one word, and expectant could be called another. But she turns away,
bootheels digging into the sand.
On the sands, N'fra wanders up to Jancent, before musing at Byrnith. "He is
lovely… Jancent, right?" That won't remain, as she motions him other. "Join
the rest of us, so we can get to the barracks?"
On the sands, Fiona herself seems more relieved than anything— she can move
back into her weyr now. And if her gaze falls upon Gr'ym, it's only the
barest brush.
On the sands, Candra pulls at her robe with her free hand, an attempt to get
some cool air in there. She looks from Laih to Vinnie with a 'so now what?'
look.
On the sands, Vindanea sees empty sands, and it's like the dissolution of a
dream. She'd wagered on herself impressing somethinggold, brown, even
green
but it seems like the dragonrider trait doesn't breed true. She
contemplates the void of feeling in her and compares it to voids of feeling
she's known before.
On the sands, Rhali is chewing on one edge of a meat strip, Kefteth on the
other. How's that for a bond? Saliva, goo-goo eyes, and grins all.

Kalrania looks slightly sick. Didn't work? Dammit. With that, she ahems. Facing
she begans to carerfully write down the latest weyrlings. Yuh-huh.
Rogue disappears ::between:: with an angry hiss.

On the sands, Arilynne stands rather awkwardly on the Sands, happiness for her
friends warring with dismay as she slowly realizes that it's all over and
she's still alone. Still, pride makes her stand up tall as she look about
her, waiting for directions, anything to keep her from thinking too much.
On the sands, Arien steps away; not far, not yet. Not yet; but she's looking
out, away.
On the sands, Kolyath seems all right where he is, just for now.
On the sands, B'nal watches anxiously. Vinnie. Candra. Jenara. Laih. Arilynne.
Naomi. He counts the cost, and then he looks at Gr'ym's boots.
On the sands, Jancent nods distantly to N'fra, eyes staying on Byrnith, but he
suddenly looks up, eyes with a faraway look, "Yes, that'll have to change,
won't it?" He glances down to the brown, /his/ brown, "What d'you think,
Byrnith?"

Wullan loses interest in the drama as the final hatchling Impresses. "Oh look,
that brown went to Jancent." She sips her wine and pats the wineskin to be
sure it's still by her side. "Well, Isabeth's a bit fussy, so I'd better
head back to the Weyr."

On the sands, Shem simply cannot comprehend his absence of lifemate. It's a
huge blow to his ego, but really, with an ego like that, it's like the
Titanic crashing into an iceberg. The iceberg doesn't feel a thing. He
decides to play the part of Weyrleader anyway and go over to Vinnie to claim
her in her moment of apparent grief. He grabs her by the shoulders and
handles women the way Weyrleaders in his line have handled women for
generations. He shakes her.
On the sands, Gr'ym's boots cost a lot, in marks and in head of cattle. But not
that much.

Cisusse bumbles down the railing — prime seating — as the crowd begins to
thin. "Oh, yes! I can sit right /here/." What? You mean it's over?
Kalrania mutters even as she scribbles. Traitor. Leaving me to the wolves.

On the sands, Jancent moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, Byrnith moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, Jules moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, M'gael watches as Theronth wanders closer to him.

G'briel just shrugs to Brianna, his eyes moving back to the
sands….disappointed now. "She didn't impress. Shards" he mutters, than
nods "Well, I can never say I was a boring apprentice. Perhaps you should
live a bit, journeywoman?" he teases. "LIfe can be very short, after all."

On the sands, Gr'ym handles it like a Weyrleader too. He barks. "Get off of
her!"
On the sands, Vindanea is shaken but definitely not stirred, and she does what
she's been wanting to do through the whole hatching. She brings back her
fist and, well, suffice to say Vinnie doesn't punch like a girl.
On the sands, Candra looks on in surprise. "Wha…?"
On the sands, Fiona takes a deep breath. Over and over. And, possessed for once
with the minutia that seem to obsess weyrwomen everywhere, she makes her way
around what's left of that spiral, picking up shards.

Wullan stops before she heads for the Ledge. "Oh, and Journeyman, /I/ gave
Kalrania the wine. Insisted, rather. And she, being an apprentice, merely
followed orders." A pause, a glance towards the apprentice, and then impish
dark eyes peer intently at Brianna. "If there's any punishment to be had,
then you had better include me in it as well."

On the sands, M'gael moves slowly out into the bowl.

Brianna sighs once, melencholy now, shoulders lifting G'briel-wards "I should,
but I have my reasons not to. We'll talk of this later." A pleasent nod is
directed towards Kalrania, and off Bri goes. Home, presumably. Bri never was
one for boisterous crowds.

On the sands, Laria watches as Seelinth wanders closer to her.
On the sands, Sissi watches as Klimth wanders closer to her.

Marlien's eyes brighten at the sight of a certain person named…Voridim. She
begins towards her.
Brianna makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

On the sands, C'aen watches as Paxith wanders closer to him.
On the sands, Laria moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, "Vinnie!" B'nal says, sharply. "Come on, now. You others, come
with me." He tacks on a 'Please."
On the sands, Rhali watches as Kefteth wanders closer to her.
On the sands, Sissi moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, C'aen moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, Vindanea dusts off her hands and offers her hand to Candra.
"Shall we?" Shem staggers back there until B'nal provides the beacon in the
misty night. Maybe he's the Titanic after all.

Voridim half smiles to Marlien, "Oh, hello. Didn't expect to find you here."

On the sands, Candra grins at Vinnie and accepts the hand, even as she
encourages Laih to come with her under B'nal's command, "Nice punch."
On the sands, B'nal puts his arm around a sobbing candidate and beckons. "It's
all right, really. Come on."
On the sands, B'nal moves off the sands and out to the bowl.
On the sands, N'fra moves slowly out into the bowl.
On the sands, Arilynne follows after the trio and avoids Shem at all costs in
case any girl will do for a shaking.
On the sands, Arilynne gingerly heads across the burning sands towards the exit.
On the sands, Rhali moves slowly out into the bowl.

Kalrania makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

On the sands, Zephre gingerly heads across the burning sands towards the exit.
On the sands, Gr'ym shakes his head and slides down Kolyath's talon. He, too,
starts picking up the little pieces, little shards. "I'll get it," he tells
— Fiona? Whoever'll hear. "Go on and eat or something."
On the sands, Arilynne walks in from the entrance.
On the sands, Arien, after an unhurried moment, approaches Gr'ym. It's
sometimes an easy path, these dunes, when one's not a candidate, when one's
careful not to slip.
On the sands, Candra moves off the sands and out to the bowl.
On the sands, Arilynne moves off the sands and out to the bowl.

K'lora makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

On the sands, "He just wants to hang out here awhile," Gr'ym says, a lie passed
out in an exhalation of bent-over breath. "We'll catch up."

Maer heads along the narrow walkway to the dragons' ledges.

Above the sands, Rhavath wings up from the ledge.

On the sands, Kh'rys hasn't left either, though— turned away but not gone.
On the sands, Aurorica flits over, now things are done, to nose amongst the
fragments and debris.
On the sands, "Whatever," Arien says, and not quite flippant at that. "Adia,
Ramon, you'll say hello for me? I'd bet they'll be glad to have you back —
more back, I mean."

Above the sands, Rhavath vanes his wings and drops down to a landing near the
entrance.

On the sands, Vindanea moves off the sands and out to the bowl.
On the sands, Gr'ym wants to push them all out. He wants to be alone. *Here*.
For five minutes. But he'll get what he really wants soon enough. "Ah.. yeah,
I'll do that. Thanks."

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