[Note: some browsers don't support linewrap for plain text files; my
apologies if yours is one such, but I don't yet have time to edit. —Ari.]

Fort Weyr Galleries, Dragonsfire MOO, 9/25/97
Rosalth and Varianth's clutch; Rosalth's third hatching;
plus, Katrineth and Byzanth's clutch; Katrineth's ninth hatching.

Log originally edited with Logedit 2.6.9pl and then re-edited to take care of descs and pros (some of which might be out of order compared to the galleries).

Pre-hatching rp in the barracks is available in a separate log.

Thanks, everyone!

Hatching Sands
Breathless heat blurs the high gray contours of this gigantic cavern: intense, inexorable, it swallows the unaware in mirages of warped vision, sands-scorched feet, sounds that lose their origins in the echo and reecho of vaulting stone. Dim citrine light casts low shadows even when otherwise illuminated, the product of constellations of living, growing glows; they even limn the staircases winding high to the galleries that, like the dragons' ledges, center attention on this chosen home to generation after generation of Fort queens' clutches.
Broody, burnished Katrineth wards the twenty-two eggs that nestle within the sands' shell-hardening heat, as Byzanth comes and goes and guards; under Varianth's tending, Rosalth's recently joined with seventeen.
The single exit gapes to the southwest.
You see Dandelion Weed Egg, Bloomin' Lilac Egg, Leaky Hose Egg, Modest Pansy Egg, Snail's Curl Egg, Half-Baked Potato Egg, Tomato Horde Egg, Katrineth, Curried Eggplant Egg, Dusky Sunflower Egg, Webbed Trapdoor Egg, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg, Byzanth, Rosalth, and Varianth here.
Obvious exits:

Katrineth x Byzanth:

Dandelion Weed Egg.
Recalcitrant green stands sentinel, clutching all but one hardy plane of this oblong egg; that wayward spotlight is stained a jaunty yellow-gold, all sunny smugness and tomboyish truculence. No treasured orchid, this, but an ostracized dandelion whose triumph is its undauntedand flauntedsurvival.

Bloomin' Lilac Egg
Earthy brown at its rounded base, from there green stretches variegated fingerssome pale for sunlight, some dark for shadeup and around the slightly roughened shell. Peeking among the slender branches are, at first, but little lavender nubbins; slowly the buds blossom as they reach the egg's apex, becoming at longest last extravagant, sweeping sprays of white-whorled lavender, the only shades across that narrow curve.

Leaky Garden Hose Egg
Crossing and recrossing itself in lazy, disorganized windings, damascened emerald snakes dark and sinuous against a grassy shell to culminate in narrow-tipped ring of bronze. Watery blue leaks unexpectedly from darker green to form brownish puddles down one long, verdant slope.

Modest Pansy Egg
Petals of deepest purple curl outward across the face of this dainty egg. Fading to softest mauve near their tips, the blossoms seem cradled by matte green scallops and spears to protect the delicate flowers in a sturdy embrace; still, the petals seem to tremble under droplets of crystal dew, as they eschew the harsh light of direct sun and hide in the shell's mainstay of dappled shadows. Pansy-soft, pansy-dark, they're comprised of modesty, of memory, of pleasant thoughts.

Snail's Curl Egg
Cloaked as it is in Katrineth's shadow, little more can be gleaned from this angular egg than the impression of size, the hint of golden-umber hue: darker brown whirls an inward spiral around one mottled face, the remainder subtly textured with the featherings of long-fallen leaves. Around and around the spiral turns—but deosil inward, or widdershins out?

Half-Baked Potato Egg.
Broader at one end than the other, uneven patternings and knobby stipplings along the surface conspire to give this egg a lumpy, off-balance look. Russet brown forms the base, a solid grounding, secure in its place. Yet, shadowy whorls open unexpectedly in spots, one paired set showing pale white in the center: eyes with which to see, to grow. Rich loam caps the narrowed end, but through it snake lines of verdant green, reaching, striving—this one will not easily be eaten.

Tomato Horde Egg
Twisting and writhing in grasping whorls, green bands grace metal, grip and curl. They pattern over cheap wire shades and burst out red globes, burst out and fade: here to a yellow, an orange, a green; there a dark patch, like a deer's bite, is seen. Peppery-sweet, these bright colors call for sight and for touch, and that's not all; a cool summer-morning smell waits for those near, plus smoothness and prickles that won't bring a tear. Too much and too many these colors might seem—the neighbors don't want them, the egg lists and leans a little bit crooked, a little too bright, but no matter: at hatching, the taste will be right.

Intent, intense: of inimitable, liquid light she's made, though framed more bone than flesh; deeply golden hue burnishes long and slow over whipcord muscle and the airy expansion of wings' bright canopy, while yet more vivid highlights damascene serrated neckridges and talons' sleek scimitars.
Katrineth is 22 Turns and 18 days old.
Broody blues and greens roam her scintillant gaze, hauntinghauntedas the distant wind's own whim… and, tonight, possessive; watchful; /warding/.

Cryptic shadow torcs this dragon's sinewy neck, knotted at its base in heritage's complexity; a pulse beats there, swift and uncertain, in that tender hollow of wrapped, enrapt bronze. Similar intaglios rune the sweep of his outsized wings, near-ebon against his rich and thickly smoked hide sheened all slick as oil. Compact, clean-cut forequarters sleek to lean haunches and whipcord tail's exploratory curve, twisting in the same quizzical arc as the lift of his clear-eyed, tilt-eyed head — a full circle transfixed in a ring of endless light.
Byzanth is 7 Turns, 6 months, and 2 days old.

Rosalth x Varianth:

Curried Eggplant Egg
Homegrown care lends shape to this bulbous creation, spiced and tossed into a seasoned skillet. Night-blackened purples char a sufficient cloak, though curry further flavors that shiny shell with Indian savor: tumeric's bright yellow-orange smear contains cumin's rich sienna and chiles' red, while brown-flecked black marks cloves' tang and peppercorns' bite.

Dusky Sunflower Egg
Close-pressed seeds core this shell in a circle rimmed with amber. From that center sprawl petals, their edges dipped in sun: soaked with garden's fading light, blurred to overwashed tie-dye. They wrap the egg in their downy embrace, suctioned like barnacles to a hull.

Webbed Trapdoor Egg
Grey filaments spider across the arch and swell of egg's autumnal detritus, webbing the darkly earthen browns, the reds and clayed blacks with binding silver. It coalesces in nubby grey clumps here, cocooning folds there, the whole woven into a sticky, haphazard funnel: innocuous, camouflaged, encouraging along to the mulched and waiting cap.

Whimsical Pinwheel Egg
Haphazard swathes divide this egg into a kaleidoscope of bright shades: gaudy reds, flashy blues, and reflective silvers wrap 'round and 'round the thick shell, each vying good-naturedly for that preeminent top spot; still, no victor prevails as those bold colors twirl in a giddy dance of windswept gaiety and carefree exuberance.

For all the dark opulence of sybaritic whim and antiqued saffron hide, the hunter's nature of this now-mature queen shines with true, clarion clarity. The convex, byzantine curves of a drawn scimitar delineate her compact frame, veiled in smoky, subtle umber about jaw and jugular as well as the taut shadow of underbelly; bronze mares dapple wings' expansive, dramatic reach.
Rosalth is 9 Turns, 6 months, and 13 days old.
Recently feed and primed, Rosalth is the picture of health. Her mood of one who knows the end is near, her hide bright, eyes whirling with apprehension.

As light reflects from his well-oiled hide, Varianth glows a bright, reddish bronze. Darker rivulets curve in seemingly random, flowing patterns along his spine, the mottling extending up to the base of his broad wings. The now-mature dragon's frame has grown positively gigantic, and plentiful sweepriding has muscled out his formerly emaciated frame. Still a little lanky, he's rather more graceful in the air than on the ground, and his eyes usually glimmer a happy blue … particularly when he regards his rider.
Varianth is 15 Turns, 11 months, and 2 days old.

Galleries (#881J)
Level upon tiered level of hard stone seats, best cushioned for comfort if one is to stay long, arc in spacious, showy display — all the better for viewing other spectators, as well as the heated sands so far below. Though centuries-old pillars suspend these galleries high in the air, the mammoth cavern's peak extends dragonlengths higher yet, the grey rock lending an illusion of clouded, nighttime skies that's only enhanced by the constellations of living, growing glows and the intense, perspective-warping heat.
Broad staircases spiral downward to the floor of the cavern, the middle of each step indented by generations of treading feet; a narrow walkway circles northeast towards the dragons' ledges.
Rattani and T'ren are here.
Obvious exits:
STairs LEdges
* Welcome to Fort Weyr's galleries! You may 'look on sands' or 'look on ledge', or even 'look <object> on sands' or 'look <object> on ledge. *

On the sands, Rosalth straigthens, as if suddenly pulled by nature's string. In a mood of urgency, she begins to roll the eggs from their resting place at the side of the sands, to the middle. Here in the middle she creates a gathering, placing each egg with careful thought. Once done there is a creation of a perfect circle of eggs, the middle complete.
On the sands, Kh'rys walks in.
On the sands, N'fra walks in from the entrance.

Telilah walks in.

Amery walks in.

Telilah hovers near the ledges, trying to assess.

On the sands, Katrineth rumbles—softly, reverberant.

Katrineth rumblessoftly, reverberant. Something's in the air «

Niabeth glances skyward, «What??» «

Belisanth's head goes skyward. «Thread! Oops, can't be that.» ;) «

Ysaleth rustles resilient, /knowing/— a feel that's familiar, not forgotten, but instinctual. «

Firannoth rumbles, as he raises his head to sniff the air. » No… no… not Thread… « His attention turns toward Fort Weyr, from whence he senses… something. » … the hatching grounds… «

Serqueth sniffs delicately, swooshing and sloshing. « The hatching grounds are /hot/ and dry. I want a bath. » «

Niabeth rustles her wings, «Warmth..» She'll come for that and then via a nudge from her rider she remembers, «Little ones! Must greet them!» «

Nyssath seizes the spark of memory, holds it 'neath talons laced, and peeks. Watch. She'll just watch. «

Selketh turns a mental ear, fine-tuning to locate the right frequency. «

Rattani is sitting with T'ren, quietly, quietly and just a bit green around the gills. If she had any.

Amery moves up the stairs. Glancing about, she finds a seat at the front, leaning over to watch the sands below.

T'ren's arm is around Rattani's waist, holding her close to him. Aware of the… greenish hue of Rattani's face, he looks distinctly worried, and keeps glancing at her to assure himself she's all right.

Vae approaches along the narrow walkway from the dragons' ledges.

Odile walks in.

Rattani frowns at T'ren but then smiles softly in reassurance. "

K'vair walks in.

Tamisan walks in.

Rattani says, "I'm fine love.."

Brandon walks in.

Kiris approaches along the narrow walkway from the dragons' ledges.

Lysalla walks in.
Lysalla stalks up the stairs, carrying herself and her pregnant bulk to an open seat.

Vae snags a seat, spreading herself just a tad so she occupies /two/ Vaespaces. You know, in case someone else she knows comes.

Kiris pauses for a moment to heave a sigh of relief. She managed to get off Jacinth without getting the dress skirt hiked up around her ears. Eyes scan the galleries for a good seat.

On the sands, Byzanth's languorous form tenses, his head raises; he peers.

Brandon follows close behind. Weaver contingent, donchaknow. Don't tell Slaine. He slips in an unobtrusive seat and cranes his neck a the sands.

Rattani waits for her first sight of her fosterson on the sands.

Kyla walks in.

T'ren frowns slightly himself, having caught Rattani's own frown. He shakes his head, then hugs 'Rani more closely to him.

Brenna walks in.

Kyla wanders in behind Vae, eyes adjusting and settling on the eggs. Yep, there they be.

"Kyla!" Vae waves, motioning the greenrider to the spot next to her. She can't expand and fill both forever — come sit so she can compress. "Sit!"

K'vair appears at the top of the steps, glancing over the rapidly filling stands. Finally, he selects a seat alone near the rear of the stands, settling in as he looks for familiar faces.

Amery leans a little further over the railing. She tilts her head at the conversations out somewhere else and a slow smile touches her lips.

Telilah takes a seat on an open-looking bench near the entrance.

Brenna bounces in, waving to Fabrique. "That's for the lift!" Always fun riding Cloth. She hurries to find a seat, eyes peering over the edge, waiting for those she knows to start burning their feet.

Kyla does so, right where Vae points. She obeys well…honestly. "So ok Vae, how many greens you going to bet on for this clutch?"

D'nara approaches along the narrow walkway from the dragons' ledges.

Vae ohs, "I never bet. I always lose, you see — /Reine/ will be down there, you know." Healers. Must root for the Healers. —And any Istans, o'course. Turning, she spies K'vair and waves frantically. Hi! /Hi/!

Brandon waves to Brenna. But not /too/ demonstratively. He's hiding. In a crowd.

Kiris slides to a seat near a couple other Stormriders, though she pointedly avoids M'ppy, ex-sweepspartner. A friendly grin to P'tar and Gemma. Bets are compared.

K'vair catches Vae's chaotic motions out of the corner of his eye, knowing somehow that only an Istan would be so… excitable. He turns and regards her with a slight smile, waving down to her.

Kyla follows Vae's gaze and waves at K'vair before peering back down at the sands. "But Vae you /have/ to bet..that's half the fun of a hatching.."

On the sands, Arien hurries in, while her queen rises to her haunches—thrumming, thrumming, burnished wings strewn a canopy over eggs and sands and now Arien herself.

Close-cropped sable hair, thick and fine, curls from a distinct widow's peak; it shadows the severity of profile's spare planes, the distraction of mutable, wide-set hazel eyes. Sinewy as she is, at least she's regained weight
and then some, being so close to termbut healer's redwort stain has faded on those long, dextrous fingers.
She's clad in a simple, sleeveless shift of silken, darkest-ruby sisal
and cloaked beyond that in a loose, flowing coat of sheerest gold, runed with abstract batik designs in the gown's deep hue. Nevarran blunts one shoulder in undeviating azure.
Arien is 43 Turns, 6 months, and 12 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.
Gifted gold torcs her throat, and silver marks one temple; gravid, she drifts, bittersweet but — oddly intent.

D'nara nearly falls onto the sands on her way down from the ledges. Wheee—thunk. "Garsh, them flawhs, they hurt," she remarks, pointing at the floor she's suddenly closer to.

Rattani smiles at T'ren and squeezes his hand, looking forward to seeing Tasher on the sands. "Which do you suppose will hatch first?"

Lysalla slips down the bench closer to Kiris, smiling. "A mark on the weaver girl we stole together, Kiris."

On the sands, Kessaly enters slowly, smiling as she dances across hot sands, a bow to both queens - one gesture of respect that she never forgets.

Vae waves and waves and waves and waves and — oh, Kyla. Er. She half-turns back. "Would it help if I claimed I'm broke?" Her inner ear twitches.. that accent. D'nara gets waves and waves and .. Vae'll be lucky if she gets through tonight with both arms.

K'vair's eyes unfocus momentarily, his movements growing still. After a bit, he makes a vexed sound, stands silently, and departs the galleries. Looking most unhappy.
K'vair makes his way down the tiers towards the exit.

T'ren returns 'Rani's smile, then glances downward at the sands. "Hrm… It's so hard to tell…"

On the sands, N'fra is decked out in shorts and kneehigh boots…they had the better padding. Head inclines to the dragons, before she sidesteps away.

Amery settles on the bench, hands smoothing the unfamiliar expance of skirt over her legs.

Mystech walks in.

Blue-green eyes twinkle mirthfully as Kiris turns to greet Lysalla. "Well, you honestly don't think I'd bet /against/ her, do you Lys?" A grin.

Kyla snorts under her breath, Vae broke, uh huh. "Danny!" She greets her fellow Istan rider..on th floor? "Come on, have a seat. How many greens do you think'll hatch?"

On the sands, Toria rushes in behind the others, eyes wide at new position of Rosalth's eggs. The pleased saffron queen adds her own voice to the thrumm of the others, now that she is finished with her nesting.

Toria's tall, slender frame seems boyish at first glance, only the shallow curves of breast and hip gentled to convex in maturity; sharp lines delineate her facial features, from high forehead to small, even nose and pointy chin. Her hair gleams straight, darkest ebony as well, cropped in a blunt wave at the base of her shoulderblades. A certain intangible delight dwells within those rootbeer-brown eyes, sparking in conversation to true, heartfelt intensity.
Glossy, chestnut leathers mould close to her tall, slender frame, tanned to supple comfort and overdyed with a fine, dark crinkling like cracks in a nutshell. Tiny stylized dragons and runners are tooled into the leathers, chasing each other around her cuffs and collar, a wild stampede driven by slender-winged dragons sprawling across her back. Complex knotwork hides the seams of the leathers, sinuous dragon-necks twining with flourished runner-tails.
Toria is 26 Turns, 6 months, and 13 days old.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.

Jerlana walks in.

T'ren points out the egg which looks like a … snail's curl? "My… guess would be that one, love."

Tamisan goes home.

Lysalla chuckles softly, waving to Jerlana and turning back to Kiris. "And once again, I'll say how stunning that dress looks on you, Kiris."

Vae waves and waves to Jerlana, too, before finally bringing the arm down with a wince. Ouch. She turns to the Sands, instead — that's where she /should/ be looking, after all? Reine, where's Reine?

On the sands, B'nal comes in, drawn by Byzanth's restlessness and sudden intense focus. He too, bends his head to each queen before he goes to stand with, and up against, Byzanth.

Blue eyes, red hair, and a constellation of freckles determine this wide, guileless face, and the body looks, well, like a brick. Sturdy and square, B'nal both moves and thinks in slow, careful cadence.
On his shoulder, B'nal wears the black and brown cords of a Fort Weyr StormRiders' wingsecond, a strand of black-edged bronze entwined throughout.
Buttery ivory sisal defines his tunic, detailed with vibrant goldenrod at sleeves and placket neck, comfortably shapeless despite its close fit. Brighter saffron belts his waist, the full desert-brown leather trous themselves tucked into boots as flat and dark as an endless night.
B'nal is 22 Turns, 11 months, and 23 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.
Bronze wrist braces gleam with figure-eight sigil above fists that alternately clench and unclench in tension and pleased excitement.

Brandon's ears pick up. Someone betting on Fiona? He leans forward a bit and asks. "Cna I get in on that too?" Fumbling through a pouch he produces a mark and three knitting needles. "As long as we don't have to bet on her lineage, I'm in."

Rattani hmms deep in her throat. "Well..I'll place my bet on that reddish looking one." *tomato horde*

Mystech grins, "Hello everyone."

Jerlana catches sight of Lysalla and returns the wave. A twist, a turn, an avoidance of yet another pair of elbows and she maneuvers to a seat.

Kiris beams. "Thanks! Fi did a great job on it, didn't she?" Voice lowers conspiratorilly. "I practiced getting on and off Jacinth in it for a couple sevendays so I wouldn't disgrace myself on the ledge here."

D'nara pulls herself up, twining her legs accidentally about a bluerider's foot. The poor man takes one look at Danny and stumbles his way over to his weyrmate, drawing back in fear from the scary rider. But as soon as Danny stands up, she peers out at the eggs…one, two, twenty-eleven, forty-nineteen. "Fahtah nahne," she cheerfully predicts. "Fahtah nahne grayeens!"

T'ren glances at the one 'Rani has pointed out… then shrugs slightly. "Could be… could be…"

On the sands, Katrineth skews a stare in Byzanth's direction. Do you see, do you /sense/?

Tyrena walks in.

Lysalla grins, smoothing her own skirts, "Fiona did a wonderful job." She grins and laughs quietly, "Why do you think I walked to the galleries rather than let Khalith fly me. I didn't want to go rolling down the ledges."

Amery glances about at those gathering. A quick smile spared for Brandon and another for Lysalla. But, her gaze quickly turns again to those on the sands.

Lysalla waves over at Amery, smiling.

Rattani worries her hands together. "Oh…I'll just spend my wishes on Tasher instead…" she says in a bemused voice, instead of her gruff one.

Brenna starts to absently nibble on a recently-grown fingernail. Bounce, bounce. How exciting. Gaze is focused on the sands, on the thrumming queens, and the pulsating eggs. She makes no bets, merely content to wait and watch.

Kiris chuckles. "That would be hard to live down." Eyes look toward the sands. "I wonder which ones have browns." Her personal bias in colors, of course.

On the sands, Arien, standing to the side, runs her hands over Katrineth's fingersail—again and again, as if drowning all sensation in only that. Only that. Only Katrineth. Who growls to the galleries.

Mystech manages to find a seat, no Harpers to sit with.

T'ren nods, gracing 'Rani with a smile, and hugs her more tightly again. "…S'a good idea, love…"

On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg sprays a bit of sand, before stilling to a halt. Not enough steam….yet.
On the sands, Th'ea walks in.
On the sands, Tomato Horde Egg wobbles a little—a lot.

Miranda walks in.

Rissira follows one of the staircases up.

On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg tilts, the barest quiver of softbut /hard/petals.
On the sands, Byzanth meets Katrineth's eyes, his own awhirling. Yes. Oh yes.

Rattani ooh's as the egg she pointed to before —moves..

Miranda winces at the near-throng… and quickly moves up the stairs.
Miranda makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

On the sands, Various eggs begin rocking, as if some switch had been turned on and now the event begins.
On the sands, Lilluci steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Brunette hair with a slight widows peak waves perfectly to mid-back. Her moss green eyes are lashed thickly, and her olive skin is creamy and without imperfection. A little skinny now, some curves have begun to show the promise of voluptuousness to come. Her full mouth is a natural red - and out of it comes a bugle of shrillness, a fishmonger's wail.
A simple white robe drapes gracefully to ankles, and her delicate feet are clad in sandals. The belt is tied with flair.
Lilluci is 15 Turns, 10 months, and 8 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

On the sands, Fiona steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Slightly plump form notwithstanding, Fi might as well be made of light.
Near-albino coloring, pale gray eyes and mid-back length, straight, ash white hair give her an ethereal, almost exotic look. Round and ample cheeked, her face hasn't grown into that of a woman yet. She's sometimes a child, sometimes a lady, sometimes, well, neither. Still, her quiet, graceful movements attract attention even when she'd rather they didn't.
Pale and beyond pale, the fabric of Fiona's robe is only slightly whiter than the skin it encloses. Simply cut, sleeveless, and tunic length, it falls to just above her knees and is cinched by an equally white rope belt. So neat the seams, for something she may only wear once, each edge is hemmed with a tiny embroidered daisy stitch.
Fiona is 15 Turns, 4 months, and 5 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.
Nervous, excited, quite possibly terrified.

On the sands, Greyim steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

A tall form straddling the line between boy and man: broad shoulders, huge feet, and sinewy length of limb sprawl at odds with the soft, clean curve of youth still in his face. Simple glasses frame the cool logic of true-blue eyes, and his head is kept closely shorn, the velvet-dark hair barely a fingerwidth long.
Candidate white envelopes his form, soft and clean, stitched with care; long toes see the light of day and the heat of the sands at last.
Greyim is 19 Turns, 1 month, and 18 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.

On the sands, Katrineth growls againto him, as wellbut softer, deeper, plangent.
On the sands, Tasher steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

The age of innocence seems to be on the retreat for Tash, with his crystalline blue eyes and yet unruly cap of white-blond hair. Take one look into those cerulean pools and you will see that he is more than what he appears; more than a pubescent teen and ever increasingly showing those occasional flashes of insight and wisdom of turns he has yet to undergo. Once pert nose is set at a rakish tilt; broken in an accident but left to heal in hopes that it will give him a roguish appearance. Running along oftly wry lips, is another mark to remember that time, a thin white scar that runs along his upper lip. Pale, lightly freckled skin seems to be toughening, or perhaps it's the growth in the musculature beneath; increased by his newer chores. Even though Tash is still on the shorter end of height, it's obvious that he is growing, chest broadening and legs lengthening along with arms and feet. Still speaking in his same mellifluous voice, though now and again cracking with puberty's octave ranging, he's proud and sure, but no longer holds that look of pure innocence, that has long kept him out of trouble.
Tasher wears his candidate's robe with a kind of blind pride. Having made this monstrosity with his own two hands, he's rather pleased with himself. A white sheet, yes, sheet, hangs loosely from his body; his neck and head pushing through the raggedly cut hole in the top. No sewing needed, it is instead held together by small strips of the same cloth laced along the sides, while a strip of the frayed material serves as a simple belt. All in all, Tasher's creation is at best a weaver's worst nightmare.
Tasher is 13 Turns, 10 months, and 26 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.
Tasher's a nervous wreck, but totally gung-ho for the hatching. Yippee!

Vae hugs knobbled knees to her chest as she rests her chin upon them, eyes wide to drink in Sand, in eggs, in queens both. Double-clutches are bound to secure her interest, always.

On the sands, Magellan steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

A compact man of average height and stocky build, still youthful but obviously of an age where he's asserted his independance and travelled where his whim has taken him. His face, with broad, even features, a rather stubby nose, and a mouth that looks to break into a cheeky grin at any moment, is honest and open, an asset in his trade. His eyes are an almost chocolate brown, perhaps glistening in the sunlight with slight flecks of golden. His jet black hair is hacked off at the nape of his neck, perhaps carelessly, although otherwise he's well groomed and not unattractive.
Mag wears what appears to be a pretty badly sewn robe - obviously his skills don't extend to the domestic. The robe varies from tight in the hips, baggy at the waist, and tight across his chest. One side hangs halfway down his right arm while his left shoulder is bare to the neck. But it serves to keep his butt from hanging out.
Magellan is 21 Turns, 1 month, and 27 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.
Fiercely concentrating on not looking quite as terrified as he feels.

On the sands, Reine steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Hair of deepest raven black has been braided so it is out of her face, and pinned to the top of her head to keep her neck cool. Warm klah-brown eyes bespeckled with random golden dots often twinkle with suppressed mirth, and are framed with long lashes that make them appear larger than normal. Adolescent face seems thinner, as baby fat begins to melt away, revealing beginnings of an almost ethereal slenderness completely at odds with stubbornly pert nose and generous heart-shaped mouth. Body, too, reflects new changes, as still-growing frame adds some flesh and gentle curves. While better-proportioned, figure will always be willow-slender and tend to boyishness.
Bleached broadcloth fashions this attempt at a candidate robe, if robe is indeed the right term for this outfit. Fabric drapes down the front and back to knee-level, and has a slightly jagged hole at the top for the head and neck to fit through. Although it does cover the shoulders, any previous attempts at getting the sides to close have apparently been given up as a bad job, relying instead on a slim broadcloth belt to keep the material from moving out of place. Underneath the robe is a snowy cambric shift; light enough to be comfortable, but heavy enough to take up the role the robe sides have abandoned. Thin sandals, barely thick enough to keep out sand's withering heat, are the only other thing worn.
Reine is 17 Turns, 5 months, and 8 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.
A nervous mess…but excited!

Rissira looks around, and finds a good spot to watch, up in the front. Even if she has to step on a foot.

On the sands, Ryka steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Ryka is not a delicate woman by any means. She stands with an almost impudent grin most of the time. Her hands are callused along the palms and fingertips, but they are finely made hands, flexible and strong. She has very short, spiky auburn hair, which is nearly always touseled, looking slightly wild. Her eyes tend to flash silver when she's angry or excited, but maintain a smoky grey when she's calm. Freckles cover the bridge of her nose and give her a slightly mischievious look, making her look younger than she really is. Her skin is deeply tanned from hours spent outdoors exploring and swimming. The tan is darker on her face but there are small, lighter lines around her mouth and eyes from squinting. Her tan has lasted through the winter, at least where it shows, since she still spends most of her days outside.
A complicated knot of Fort's colors hangs from her shoulder, interlaced with an extra strand of honey brown, denoting her as the Fort Weyrlingmaster.
Prussian blue leather trousers cling tightly down Ryka's hips, thighs and calves to tuck into well polished black boots. A cream colored tunic is rolled up to her sleeves, embroidered with knotwork in red, green, gold and blue along the square collar and the plackets of the shoulders. A belt made of braided black leather encircles her waist where the tunic tucks in to the trous.
Ryka is 28 Turns, 2 months, and 24 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

On the sands, Zephrene steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Her blue eyes flash with violet above a long nose once broken, and wide, wine-dark lips that seem well-made for smiling, although they have had few occasions. Her squarish jaw and tanned face are haloed by thick curls of black hair, uneven lengths barely as long as her hand. Her figure would be womanly if she weren't so thin, although she has filled out some with regular meals and steady work.
White. Against tanned skin this sheath is blazingly white; sleeveless, unevenly hemmed, it fits well enough that it really doesn't need the rope belt to cinch it close. Her feet brave the Hatching Sands alone, not even sandals offering cover.
Zephrene is 18 Turns and 10 months old.
She is awake and looks alert.

On the sands, Whyria steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Her round face is circled by wisps of medium brown hair that refuse to stay tucked behind her ears. The hair itself is composed of dull, seemingly lifeless strands, which contain no bounce or energy of their own — this increases their attractiveness tenfold to the forces of static electricity, which play havok on their goal of lying flat and dull against her head. The ends of the dirt colored hair hang unevenly just below the line of her shoulders. Eyes of brownish green color rest in the center of her face, just above her plump cheeks and some distance from her unremarkable mouth and chin. The rest of her figure is average, if a bit on the heavy side, with all the side affects that follow.
Today she wears the simple and flowing white robe of a candidate. The pattern is plain, barely nothing more than two rectangles of white fastened at the shoulders and tied with a loose sash of the same fabric. There are no additional adornments or frills on the robe; the stark plainness is a statement of its own. In a nod to practicality, Whyria wears tan colored sandals on her feet.
Whyria is 19 Turns, 7 months, and 14 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

Miranda follows one of the staircases up.

Brandon grins at Amery, stuffs the knitting needles back in. Fisted mark is held, like a talisman, as he too returns gaze to the hot sands. Fiona's own needles they are, given before she left. Hopefully, after today she'll not need them back.

On the sands, Lilluci stops dead on and then bows, swallowing nervously. After getting poked, she shuffles further out onto the sands.

On the sands, Zipporah steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Inky hair sprouts from her head, clumps spilling over her brow and in rolling, downward waves to mid-back. Treacherous cunning is embedded in every inch of her spindly frame; heather-gray eyes' purity is tainted with it; her numerous impish smiles display it; and every other piece of her shouts shamelessly of mischief. Skin as pale as a lily bathed in moonlight boasts a layer of filth accumulated, no doubt from her various escapades and countless adventures.
Pure cloth — white, white, /white/! — drapes her figure, falling short of shins, though the rest is in proportion: the sleeves aren't too long, nor the neck too deep, or the waist too loose.
Zipporah is 16 Turns, 8 months, and 4 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.

On the sands, Dandelion Weed Egg rustles, wobbles — settles.

Kyla settles back, ready to watch the hatching having made her bets with a brown-rider behind her. Wait, one more thing missing, with that she slips a wineskin out of her pocket. Ok, ready now.

On the sands, Ryka steps up and bows to the sires and dams, as well as their riders before moving swiftly to the side.

Amery watches the candidates… "They be comin'."

On the sands, Rosalth watches as the candidates filter into the cavern, coming to take away her babies, to relieve her of their care. Confused emotions whirl with varying speeds in her eyes.

Vae does lean close enough to Kyla to touch, shoulder to shoulder, as Reine comes out. Only that, and she doesn't move her head.

On the sands, The Candidates enter, some solemn, some unstrung, some with hearts worn fast to the sleeves missing from their robes, some is that Tasher? holding down the hems of their garments to prevent any undue exposure to the Galleries. But all together they bow to the parents of the clutch, then form a semicircle about the eggs, waiting.

Brandon stands and waves frantically, "FIONA!!! Good luck!" So much for obscurity.

Kyla whistles as she sees Reina and Zipporah, hopefully not right in Vae's ear.

T'ren sits upright, as he notices the candidates parade out onto the sands. Glancing at 'Rani, he leans over to point out Tasher.

On the sands, Muireann steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

Muireann has long, thick tawny-brown hair which she keeps tied back in a heavy braid that hangs to her waist. Escaped tendrils curl around her pale face, softening the severe style. She is of average height and build but there is a lean toughness about her that suggests she is no stranger to hard work. Frank amber-green eyes regard you steadily but there is a naive innocence there as well.
Well… yeah. She's wearing a robe. And it's white… mostly; 'cept for those uneven cream-coloured patches on her elbows. Sure, the hem's just a bit uneven and one sleeve is definitely longer than the other (though you don't notice when she rolls them up… much…), and, well, the whole thing looks like it was stitched together by a blind, drunken madman… but sure, Muireann's been called worse. Sandals? Oh aye. Definitely. Them sands are HOT.
Muireann is 18 Turns, 6 months, and 15 days old.
She is awake and looks alert.
Muireann looks pale and nervous; all trembly too. And there's just a tinge of green to her face… Maybe it would be best to stay out of range.

On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg bulges slightly…a shiver, and then stillness.
On the sands, Oaips skittles out, sand flying as she nearly trips on a dune. A deep blush, before she meekly joins the other candidates, settled near the end.

Miranda moves to sit away from the lot, but where she can still see. She'll be crowded in soon enough… At Amery's words, she moves to sit nearer the edge. To /watch/."

Lysalla chuckles, giving Brandon the big 'thumbs' up.

On the sands, Pale and beyond pale, Fi steps out onto the hot sands. Thank Faranth for those sandals.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg shifts a little, off-balance.

Tyrena beams proudly, memories of her hatching surfacing, and burrows into a corner, standing, to watch.

On the sands, B'nal turns to watch them, all the white robes, all the scared, solemn faces. He smiles, and glances to Arien and Toria. Oh yes.
On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg swings, as if water flows through its curved shell, rocking back and forth, before coming to a halt, tilted on its axis.
On the sands, Lilluci pats down hair nervously, and sidles near Fiona. "This is so scaaaaary," she whines.
On the sands, Milowny slips to join the white-robed circle as well, long fingers nervouslyand ineffectuallypushing auburn hair back behind her ears.
On the sands, Magellan smiles confidently at his fellow candidates, but his apparent calm is spoilt by an apparent continuing compulsion to stick hands in non-existent pockets. His eyes are glued to the eggs as he shuffles rapidly heating feet.
On the sands, Tasher hot-steps it, barefoot despite warning and knowledge of the heat. Stubborn boy! He continually raises and lowers his feet, silently muttering under his breath. " hot hot…" in a continuous litany.

Rissira looks around at all the wonderful looking eggs, and smiles, watching the jerking eggs, seeing if there's anyone she knows down there.

On the sands, Reine swallows slightly as she settles into place. Her hand is still at her throat, clutching some piece of jewlery that is currently not on her person.
On the sands, Simonkely follows the rest, finding his place among the throng.
On the sands, Kessaly smiles at her weyrmate, and then towards the nervous candidates. A wink.
On the sands, Muireann steps onto the sands, one hand clutched to her stomach, the other balled into a fist at her side. A brief glance is spared for the galleries - Oh jeeeeekers - so many… before eyes swivel back to rocking, wiggling eggs.
On the sands, Zephrene looks at the eggs, hand still at her throat, bare toes curling on hot Sands. Looks different this time.

Rattani takes a deep breath as Tasher steps out onto the sands. "Good luck Tash!" she says quietly.

On the sands, Fiona raiises her eyes to the far, far ledges above. Why, why, why. And looks for Greyim.
On the sands, N'fra meanders toward Ryka, before mentioning, "Well…here we go again." Nose wrinkles, as fingers waggle at Kess.
On the sands, Zipporah steps soft and quiet. /Forward/. —and then pausing at her spot in the clusters of white, arms straightened at her sides. "We've made it," a note of triumph and accomplishment.
On the sands, Whyria assumes her position amongst the other points on the semi-circle, a white dot with a face slowly turning red as the heat works its way up. The rocking eggs may have something to do with the rising flush as well.
On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg moves with internal struggle, toppling over just a bit.
On the sands, Greyim finds a place to settle, loose-limbed, slack, free — till he looks at the Stands, and the *sea* of black clothes, and all his huge huge family's faces there attached; it's all he can do not to bust up laughing, holding onto those glasses.
On the sands, Ryka grins at N'fra and nods weakly. "Aye. Again, lass."

Miranda chuckles at the nervous swiping of hands Mag makes. She seems to relax a little, watching this time honored ritual. Even if it /is/ here.

A'tar follows one of the staircases up.

Kiris wraps her arms around herself, unable to suppress a delighted squirm. Eyes look across to the ledge to meet a zircon gaze. "Good luck, Fi," she whispers.

Odile lets out a heavy sigh as she watches those oh-so familiar robes spread over the sands. She has yet to spot Zipporah, but she's searching.

On the sands, Dorina scurries into place and hops from foot to foot, eyes locked on rocking eggs.

T'ren clasps 'Rani's hand in his tightly, as he nods in agreement with her good-luck wish.

D'nara leans on the edge of the galleries, peering at the eggs in her timeworn quest. "Thart'un thayre looks lahk a packtahl," she beams, having successfully identified The Only One That Matters. :P

Amery glances toward the stairs and raises a hand in a wave A'tar-ward. Then, she pats the bench beside her in invitation.

Mystech smiles and waves at A'tar.

On the sands, Lilluci sticks out her chin and straightens her shoulders. She won't shame her Hold. She won't! A strand of hair is flipped over her shoulder.

Lysalla smiles, wistfully, mumbling her wishes for Fiona and Zephrene, the two she helped to Search.

Kiymira walks in.

On the sands, Terry stands, stout, rotound even, without distinguishing features to give the observer clue as to gender. Terry's face betrays the nervous energy battling need for calm within, as gaze wanders across eggs with anticipation.
On the sands, Th'ea watches quietly, willing silent encouragement to the semicircle of faces.
On the sands, Katrineth's head swings downshe /hisses/ at the candidates, warningtesting.

Rissira looks down, and grins as she spots someone she knows, waving at Zephrene.

Mystech waves to Kiymira.

Brenna peers over, spotting Reine and Tasher. She knows them. Nail continues to get bitten and she bounces slightly in her seat. Excitable Healer indeed.

On the sands, Tasher half-turns, eyes searching the agalleries even as his attention is claimed by the egg's rockings. He smiles nervously about —then seems to nod in recognition at someone in the stands. Must've spotted Rattani.
On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg writhes a little harder now, colors dancing across its rock hard surface.

Miranda stays away from the rider folk. If she notices them. Her gaze is glued to the sands and the movement down there. Slowly, her gaze focuses and her skin pales. It is her turn to wipe hands on trousers.

On the sands, Muireann stretches out a shaky hand toward Terry, needing reassurance.

A'tar stops at teh top of hte stairs, hands on hips and chin raised defiantly. Gazes across the crowd, as if in judgement, and begins to grace them with his company. Unfortunately, he's one sep short of a saunter, and ends up more stumbling rather than the intended swagger.

On the sands, Dandelion Weed Egg shifts again, emergent weed that it is.

Rattani smiles as she sees Tasher's nod to the stands. She sees him.

On the sands, Terry apparently calms, and takes Muir's hand with a sharing of nervousness that lessens, rather than amplifies.

Too bad Vae misses the stumble. But she's watching, waiting.

Amery chuckles a little at A'tar's swantger… and offers a hand to steady him.

Kiymira waves back, exciting sidling towards the Harpers while attempting to peer out at the sands. People blocking her view are imperiously tapped, until they move. Kiy-technique.

On the sands, Whyria, prompted by the other's glances, scans the stands. One or two faces bring a crease between her brows, but no waves or grins follow. And still — eggs.

Telilah waves, "A'tar!"

On the sands, Tasher leans back awary from Katrineth's hissing; fear running a cold track down his spine as he goes rigid and just /stares/.
On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg begins to spray with a vengance, whipping to and fro as it bumps against a mate, before shuddering to a stop.
On the sands, Zephrene looks up at the hissing queen, pale but determined. She remembers earlier encounters and clasps her hands before her, tight, feet planted firmly.
On the sands, Reine lets her eyes flick up to the stands, then back to Katrineth. In a sudden burst of something that's either boldness or insanity, she quirks a somewhat tremulous smile at the queen, and stands her ground. Then an egg moves and she is drawn to it like vtols to sweetner.

Jerlana muses in a distant corner, pondering the eggs and the assembled candidates swathed in white. All the better to /see/ them.

On the sands, A tiny turquoise egg rocks strongly, strongly, for a moment giving a full glimpse of the Snail's Curl Egguntil vividly golden talons reach out, and Katrineth once again gives it shelter.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg begins a slow, tilting spin, tilting, tilting… and spins back up onto its broad base.
On the sands, Fiona has disconnected.
On the sands, Zipporah's toes lap, one foot inching over the other, a nervous act — it's not just the 'wusses' that get nervous, it's Zipp, too. "..Whyria?" she pleas softly for the other girl.
On the sands, Magellan turns to hissing dam, and half bows again, respecting possessiveness, since it is after all an ultimate gift they receive from her today.
On the sands, B'nal has disconnected.
On the sands, Muireann is frozen by golden glare, but manages a silent bow that is probably more nod than anything. Eyes turn to other dam and sires to include all in the homage.
On the sands, Arien
now with a quieter touch to that fingersail—murmurs softly, softly, to queen and candidates and child and to no-one that's here at all. It's all right. It will be all right.
On the sands, Oaips wibbles, almost falling to her knees, taking another candidate with her. A murmured apology, before she looks back to the eggs.
On the sands, Simonkely's feet shuffle as he concentrates on acclimating them to the heat of the sands.
On the sands, Fiona has connected.

A'tar recovers, and straightens his jacket with a grin, before stepping lightly up the stairs to claim a section of the Galleries for himself, and whomever decided to join him, thus avoiding teh issue of which offers to accept, and which to decline. He motions to the vacant seats around him, and waves his fiends to the fore.

On the sands, Katrineth draws in their scent, each in turn, no matter if they're wearing white now instead of the more familiar black—or brown, or blue, or green; she'll remember them. She /recognizes/ them. Pass, then, if you dare.
On the sands, Zephrene glances from queen to tourquoise egg, remembering that one. She offers it a small smile - Happy Birthday, baby.
On the sands, Dorina backs up a few steps at the Queen's hiss, and into another trying to find his place. Sorry, sorry.
On the sands, Whyria turns her head: someone called her name, however quietly. That's the only thing that would likely distract her from those jumping, rocking, rolling eggs. "Zipp?"
On the sands, Tasher fixates on the eggs —loosing himself in their rocking and struggling. One egg draws his attention, his favorite. He glimpses around briefly to see how the others are handling it.
On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg models a turn, then falls subdued once more.

On the sands, Dandelion Weed Egg shudders once, then once again; then in one final burst explodes green and yellow shards in all directions, its dragonet tumbling wish-quick and feather-light onto the sands.
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet
On the sands, Fearless she is, and joyous in it, her insouciance revealed in the rakish tilt of silvery swept-back wings, the carefree — often care/less/ — swing of that sinewy tail. Sunlit sea-green shines iridescently over the play of this sleek dragonet's muscles, conferring motion even in rare moments of stillness. Abalone's subtle sheen complements argent-damascened neckridges and the tidal edge of cobalt dashed along the base of her throat. Jeweled eyes gleam with a vast, undauntable spirit, expressed in the entirety of her diminutive frame.

Miranda does note the flamboyant rider. The one with the oh-so-graceful stumble. Then, she laughs ever so softly at his maneauvering. Only then, she turns back to watch.

On the sands, Fiona just stands, stock still, fists clenched, blonde on blonde, white on white, pale and beyone pale. She might as well be a cloud, a wisp of smoke. So small, so small she feels.
On the sands, Lilluci gasps as the first dragon burst from her shell. "OOOOOOOOH!"
On the sands, Rosalth settles, watching from the side, though still hovering over the eggs as if hesitant to let them go. Her gaze drops to the candidates and she seems assured, backing away just a bit to give room.
On the sands, Magellan winks at Tash, finding solace in old habits. He stands in his place and regards the eggs, hands twining in robe. His eyes widen as green fearless iridescence erupts.

T'ren ahhs, as the first egg hatches. "…a green…"

On the sands, Fiona can't even muster up her usual disdain for Lilluci, "Yeah."

Lysalla gives a small gasp. "Lovely.. the first and such a lovely green."

On the sands, N'fra smiles, as a green appears. "Well, I can't say I'm mad a green is the first thing to break."
On the sands, Tasher takes a very deep, shuddering breath —the reality truly hitting him as the first egg cracks and deposits it's inmate on the sands. "Great Faranth!" he breaths, missing Magellan's wink entirely.
On the sands, Inhaling deeply at the first verdant arrival, Muireann nearly chokes on something, but manages to stammer "O-Oh my", clenching Terry's hand just a little bit tighter.

Rissira sighs, as her favorite color is the first one to emerge from her shell, Moonsong humming in approval.

On the sands, B'nal has connected.
On the sands, Zipporah points a finger down at her feet fiercely; a jerk and jab more than anything. "Come and .. stand with me," she suggests weakly, eyes widening to discs at the sight of the first shell cracking.
On the sands, "Green and green." Kh'rys is happy. So's Ysaleth.
On the sands, Katrineth briefly brushes muzzle to muzzle with this firstling greenwho blinks egg membrane away from her eyes, and yawns her maw widefirst, as she'd been the first to break shell so long ago.

D'nara beams. "Onlah fo-ey grayens left ta go,ya know." So…she can't count. So sue her. :)

Kyla chuckles at N'fra's comment, and pokes the brownrider, "Won /that/ one."

Brenna smiles, moving her hand from her mouth. "How lovely!" Then back to nibble-bouncing.

On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg rocks even more violently, spinning across a few feet of sand.

Amery whistles softly and grins, "Green…"

On the sands, Oaips ooohs, as appropriate, before stumbling into the sand. Can't even move slightly without tripping. "Jays," she mutters, before getting to her feet.
On the sands, Reine murmurs, "Green." She watches, and smiles. Fearless and beautiful.
On the sands, Lillucilooks at Fiona, wide-eyed, silent for once.

Kiris glances across at Jacinth and grins. "Of course /you'd/ approve."

Sh'lin smiles a little goofy like herself. Not that it's an unusual expression for her, but today is special.

On the sands, Whyria is all too happy to acquiesce to Zipporah's plea; the sight of that first little green is just.. overwhelming. "Alright," she murmurs, shuffling careflly towards the other candidate.
On the sands, Greyim watches Katrineth with her daughter — or is that Rosalth's? Here it begins, it begins.

Lysalla chuckles back at Kiris, "Khalith is saying much the same to me. Another female."

Mystech smiles, "A good clutch this, nice to see a green so early."

On the sands, Dorina's eyes are drawn to the green, and stay there. Her favorite egg, and her favorite color. A soft "oooh." comes from her general direction.
On the sands, Ryka grins and leans closer to N'fra, "That's ten marks you owe me, lass. Told you that'd be the first."
On the sands, Milowny's brown eyes widen, and she steps hastily along with the other shufflers: so big, so small, so/oh/, oh see.
On the sands, Kessaly smiles softly, eyes drawn to a smudge of blue-silver high upon the ledges.
On the sands, In a moment of rare affection, Fi takes Lilluci's hand. "It'll be all right." And looks again, around at her fellows, her friends, sisters and brothers all. And she's no longer an only child.
On the sands, Magellan tilts to lift his fellow Candidate to her feet, eyes only for the egg wet marvel before him. He smiles and is touched as dam touches child.
On the sands, Rosalth doesn't seem overly concerned with the first hatched, though she does give it her momentary regard.
On the sands, "I think.." and Zipporah's not moving at all, not turning her head to see her fellow friend, nor swishing her hands to send heat elsewhere "..I don't like this."
On the sands, Zephrene rocks forward on her toes, pain a lesser concern in the face of - dragonet. "Ah." Eyes sweep appreciatively over the new green then back to the protective Katrineth.
On the sands, N'fra makes a face. "I know, I know. Rob be blind, woman." She winks, before nodding to the green. "Wonder where she'll go."
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet shakes her head and immediately begins to explore the sands, the people, oh, /everything/.
On the sands, Lilluci squeezes Fiona's hand gratefully. "You're right, of course, you always are." Not of course, that she'll cop to saying this later.
On the sands, Ryka chuckles at that and shrugs, "Now /that/ I don't know."
On the sands, Terry stands at the end of the line, and ooohs at the first. "Such a lovely green!"
On the sands, Tomato Horde Egg rocks again, hints of wiry silver catching the light amidst all the orange and red and green.
On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg sends another spray of sand. Perhaps something over there will grow? No? Another volley is splashed, before pliant shell stills.
On the sands, Tasher is solid rock again as he takes in the green hatchling with wondering eyes. The egg wetness and largeness, compared to his small stature, sends rampant chills down his rigid spine. "Oohhh.." he breathes.
On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg spins again on the sands, ends bulging alarmingly.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg heaves a little harder, a quicker spin and
oofs! onto its long side.
On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg vibrates quietly, invisibly, within its shadowy canopy: not alone; together.

GREEN! Brandon whoops up a cheer. "Green!" Almost as good as purple as far as nifty colors are concerned. He turns to a fellow apprentice, "She's /gorgeous/."

On the sands, Whyria can't stand still, she's never been able to do that; her ceaseless fidgiting is a contrast to Zipporah's stillness. "I didn't know it would be like this," she answers, neutral as yet. "Are you scared?" This lower, eyes fixed on the increasingly agitated clutches.
On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg seems clogged. Something's stuck. It hops back and forth, over and over, trying to get rid of whatever is keeping it from giving life…..

A'tar leans back, turning to appropriate a cusion from the no man's land behind him and settling it to make a lounger. turning back, he notes the newest of Fort's greens with a noncommittal "Hmm."

On the sands, Magellan grins tightly as one of his favorites shows movement. Eyes follow green dragonflesh as the seeking begins. He remains silent, not wishing to make a shuddering contribution to the din.

Rissira watches, silent, mug of klah in her hand forgotten, as her eyes shine in wonder and excitement.

On the sands, Leaky Hose Egg evinces an alarming bulge as pressure takes over — abruptly shooting shards and squalling dragonet forth in a furious gush.
On the sands, Smoky Island-Blue Dragonet
On the sands, Ultramarine flecks over this dragonet's stocky frame with characteristic, chaotic disarray; the sky flavors his hide, steeping him in the air's vitality and rooting him with the certainty of self-awareness. Cloud-smoked, the consistency of his muzzle and 'knobs turns to drifting spackle down that strong neck. Fuzzy freckles continue to fade in and out over low-slung haunches and 'round that mobile tail; the color only settles into deepened defintion at his oversized paws, the digits ending in stone-brown claws.

On the sands, Zipporah's stiff, like a board, and from fright no less. "Noo.. not scared," her snarling hiss — how dare one suggest she be /scared/ even if she is?
On the sands, Reine flicks back and forth between dragonet and eggs, eyes darting about as she tries to take everything in at once. This works right up until the heat finally seeps its way through the sandals. A blink as she tries figure out what's uncomfortable, and then she beigins the Candidate Shuffle.

Kiymira peers critically at the green and blue, surprised by the appearence of the hatchlings. "So that's what hatchlings look like," she muses, to herself. She expected them to be graceful, elegant creatures, like the mature dragons, but that, of course, is completely wrong. She turns to poke at Mystech. "Look! A blue as well!"

On the sands, Tasher flashes his eyes around the sands. It's happening so fast! He doesn't know where to look first the green, then his favorite of egg Now he's got the added stimulous of the blue to take in.
On the sands, Tomato Horde Egg fidgets again. Loses a shard, a tomato's version of dark zucchini-green—but there are a lot more where that came from.

Jumping slightly as the small blue bursts from his shell, spraying egg shards widely, T'ren turns slightly red and resumes his seat, and slips his arm around 'Rani again.

On the sands, Oaips glances up to see Hose explode, eyes widening at the sight. "Ooo! Lookie! Right there!" Blue and green are pointed out, as she begins to hop.

Mystech smiles, "Lovely, aren't they?"

On the sands, B'nal has disconnected.
On the sands, Milowny quick-foots it as well, near-shivering, despite its being anything but cold.
On the sands, Magellan has been shuffling since before bare feet even touched sand… he ooohs at at tehcloc blue hatchling, so
On the sands, certain in awareness… {Mag}
On the sands, Muireann just sways back and forth as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. She doesn't dare lift either sandal off the ground - the state she's in now, she'd probably fall over.
On the sands, Dorina hip-hops, but her eyes are still locked on the green. Oaips's exclamation is unheeded, as is the blue.

Kiris nods approval. Blue's good. Though brown's best, in her potentially biased opinion.

Rattani stifles a silly giggle at T'ren and settles back into his grasp.

On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet moves quickly, indeed, at different rates, her feet more sure than, say, her tail. It stays with her, more or less, except for when it strays, sweeping to divide a clump of huddled girls, and brushing past a confused-looking Neratian.
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg begins to rock ever so slowly, half hidden in the shadow of Rosalth, but still perfectly apparent.

A'tar mentions, to anyone within conversational distance (a distance much lessend by the ooing, ahhing and general cries of alarm and exclamation), "You know, if these eggs hatch with any greater force, well have ourselfs some perforated candidates."

On the sands, Whyria confirms, "I'm scared." Nothing wrong with admitting it now. And if she passes out, well, someone will know why. So far though, it's just a flush and a distressing tendancy to bubble up with giggles.
On the sands, Smoky Island-Blue Dragonet is expelled, rolled out end over end until he bumps into another egg. Ooof. Head wobbles, glows glinting off hazy blues before he gains his balance.

Kiymira refrains from commenting on the 'lovely' hatchlings. "Gangly," she observes, but softens, smiling. "They're almost…comical." Big wings, sweeping tail, egg goo sprayed everywhere. You know.

Amery is near enough to hear and she glances back at A'tar. The shadow of her hair falls across her face, hiding the smile that /must/ be there. "Wouldn' tha' be a shame…?"

Vae turns, this time; narrows her eyes at A'tar, sticks out her tongue — to much effort to wave hello — before looking back.

On the sands, Movement, yes; progress, no. Half-Baked Potato Egg bumps about on its side, pale eyes attempting a better view of the proceedings.

Perforated for better tearing, perhaps. "They're not quite close enough I don't think," Jerla muses way over there toward A'tar.

On the sands, Reine shuffles a little closer to Whyria. Hand sticks out, available for grasping onto. She smiles at the other girl. "Me too, a little."
On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg wobblesshifts with a sizzle, and a spice's pop-pop.
On the sands, Tasher starts giving each of the eggs a searching look. Will one of them hold his dragon? Or are one of the hatched ones looking for him? —one can't tell just yet, so he just shuffles and hops back and forth on his burning soles.
On the sands, Zipporah pops a cork
"/What/?" Eyes, once discs, revert back to almond slits. "You're.. scared?" and her gaze spins towards Reine; "You too?" Perhaps it would've been wiser to admit.
On the sands, Greyim takes a deep breath of the hot, dry air, looking all over — are those freckles, are those wet spots, on blue? He winces at the fall, only to be distracted by green's brush with the girl from Nerat.
On the sands, B'nal has connected.
On the sands, Zephrene lets her feet broil for now, every so often rocking back slightly on heels. Her head spins at the riot of colors playing before her, and she manages to note new hatchlings. She bites her lip and watches, eyes huge, hungry.
On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg trembles, vibrations within stirring the dewdrops that glisten on its shell.
On the sands, Terry steps aside as sea-green passes through a knot in the semi-circle, eyes wide with wonder at the live thing before which was, until now, a wonderous dream vision.
On the sands, Muireann will /definitely/ fall over, if she tries to look in too many directions at once. A wince for the hapless new-hatched blue, and then eyes lock warily onto roaming green. Then back again to eggs. She's getting dizzy - or maybe it's just the heat.
On the sands, Toria grasps at Rosalth, her rock, eyes cast about the cavern of candidates and eggs, wishing to miss none, and share all with her love.
On the sands, Fiona just stands as still as she can, tightly clutching Lilluci's(?!) hand on one side, nobody on the other.

Mystech grins, "I should write a Hatching Song."

On the sands, Oaips nearly looses her balance in the hop, one foot skidding under the other. "Ow! Shardit!" Did she say that aloud? Hands fly to her mouth, before she stands shock still. Can't hurt herself then, right?
On the sands, Reine simply nods. That she is.
On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg rustles within the sand, only momentarily glimpsed within the shadows.
On the sands, Ryka has disconnected.
On the sands, Lilluci has disconnected.
On the sands, Kessaly has disconnected.
On the sands, Whyria's damp hand takes the offered one — so long as she has an arm free to wave, giving the illusory feeling of doing something to combat the heat. "This is.. almost too much," she continues. Eyes follow the hatchlings. Nervous.
On the sands, Ryka has connected.

A'tar nods, considering the distances, hidden smiles, and tongue hellos all at once. "Perhaps," he allows, "if they were close enough, Kat and Rose wouldn't be decimating the herds quite so badly when this is done."

On the sands, Madri walks in.
On the sands, Wringing franticly at his robes, Simonkely wrinkles it beyond repair, nervousness turning him into a freak of emotion.
On the sands, Webbed Trapdoor Egg rustles as well, far more surreptitiously—but it, too, is threatening to cave.
On the sands, Magellan's eyes seek out Fi, remembering the first time on these sands. He admitted his nervousness then, and eyes admit nervousness now. Same eyes dart from green, to blue, wonder filling him and occasionally overcoming even nerves. He smiles and nods.
On the sands, Tasher stands alone in a pool of fear and candidates —solid in his stance and solid in his stare, but betrayed of nervousness by his lip-chewing.
On the sands, Kessaly has connected.

"It's been suggested," Jerla replies to A'tar, "That candidates are the most tender of morsels." Wonder which dragon suggested that?

On the sands, Fiona has a smile for Magellan— if his eyes stay long enough to see it. From one foot to the other, she shifts weight and agonizing heat.
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg jerks, shuttering with an explosion of sudden movement, then lays perfectly still.
On the sands, Reine nods. Her other hand is free, for whoever wants to grab on to it. Besides, if she's holding onto someone, she won't fall over. She eyes the bumbling blue, and hints of a grin play about her mouth.
On the sands, Smoky Island-Blue Dragonet spreads his wings….neat! Flap, flap, flap. He rights himself with that flapping, giant paws quite the padding. Head looks over to those moving white things, before he begins to wander that way.
On the sands, Magellan sees hand offered, and takes it, squeezing gently and gaining strength as he hopefully lends some.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg wiggles a bit more; its eyes rotating slowly with its efforts, far from darting
On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg trembles again and /moves/, shell showing obvious movement inside.
On the sands, Tasher struggles for breaths between nervous nibblings. Eyes wide. Staring as the dragonets move. the problem is, that he's not learned to swim yet, and is wallowing in the pool.
On the sands, Lilluci has connected.
On the sands, Zipporah lets sweat bead and dribble along the sides of her face; whisps of raven hair are soon wetted, too, but rather than use the back of her hand to dissolve the moisture she stands firm, and still: a statue. "Far too much."
On the sands, Tomato Horde Egg shakes again, arduously
soon, soon it must bear fruit—but what good is a cracked tomato, unless it be immediately served?
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet slows her speed, though not her seeking. She pauses to imitate a bobbing head here, to swing her foreleg like the harper who waves to someone in the stands. A tanned candidate rocks on her feet, and she wavers likewise.

A'tar looks back and arches an eyebrow, completing the expression with a smirk. "Has it now? Simply amazing." He turns back to the sands, "Still, It's only fair we give them a chance beore lining them up and marching them down a gaping maw or two."

On the sands, Rosalth absently wraps her tail about her lifemate, wishing to share with her too this grand event. Eyes rivited on her own eggs, she waits patiently.

Miranda glances back at the macabre trio. And the pallor of her complexion fades even more.

On the sands, Lilluci smoothes hair down some more and shifts. A gusty sigh, and she sniffs.
On the sands, The sand gets to be too much, and Oaips yelps, springing into action. Bumbling action as she nearly falls over again, squeak verbrating off the cavern's walls.
On the sands, Fiona squeezes Lilluci's hand. "Just look."
On the sands, Terry's eyes move from blue to green as well, occasionally darting towards eggpile to see if another wonder has offered itself to hungry eyes.
On the sands, Reine even smiles at Mag. Amazing. But most of her attention is on the eggs…especially that spicy purple one. A little bit is given to her feet as she continues to shuffle from foot to foot. Can't get blisters through sandals, can you?

"S'why they're in white, you know," Jerla continues blithely on. "Makes them easier to spot in a crowd. Dragon can just glance and identify the yummy from the rancid."

On the sands, Lilluci nods, and tries to stay still. And chews on her bottom lip.

Brandon can't stand it. He slips out of his seat and scooches down by the railings, peering out. If he nudges anyone, he nods, apologizes. The blue's movements catch his attention, then eyes slip back to his favored Candie. /Fi/.

On the sands, Varianth is one of the few still ones on the sandever lazy, and the heat lullsbut there's an alertness to his eyes that negates the sloth. He's /watching/.

Lysalla curls hands into tight fists. "C'mon.. c'mon," she begins to chant. "Soon, they must find each other soon. All of them."

On the sands, Smoky Island-Blue Dragonet pauses. Noise. Where'd it come from? That way he heads, wrapping his tail about one leg, tropping along at a good clip. And off he goes!
On the sands, Dorina is griining, throughly wrapped up in watching this green. She's forgotten to hop, and after a few moments, her feet let her know they're not happy. "Owowow!" Blond curls bobble as she bounces up and down, trying to relieve the burning in her feet.
On the sands, Greyim swallows, looking on — his adam's apple slides like a zipper in his throat; up, down, as he watches the first unfurling of wings.

Nicki walks in.

Miranda scootches to one side, giving Brandon more room at the front. If her nerves would tollerate it, she might say something. Instead, she keeps her gaze firmly now on the scene below.

Luther walks in.

On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg starts a rhythmic slamming against the sands, and then spins to its side.
On the sands, Muireann glances Fiona's way, hearing the words echoed in her own mind. A tremulous smile is offered, then eyes are recaptured by eggs and dragonets.
On the sands, Tasher swallows hard and forces himself to take a deep breath —is he preparing to plunge deeper? Or is the fear taking over him? —Nah, he's just lost in the hatching, the moment. —Time stands still for him, even as it progresses at rapid pace.
On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg wobbles once, caught by an internal breeze in begins to drift…

On the sands, Curried Eggplant Egg cracks — wrenches — and glittering blue talons rip apart the safe haven as the slippery dragonet oozes forth, smoky purple shards sliding off to lay abandoned in the hot sands.
On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet
On the sands, What this skinny dragonet lacks in stature, he makes up for with flair! Saltillo casts bronze with a red-orange glaze: brighter along narrow muzzle and spiky neckridges, deeper in the mask surrounding scintillating eyes. Still darker rivulets crease close-set wingbases and trace a daring tattoo across scarcely-opaque wingsails, while glittery blue polishes long talons with unmistakeable, inimitable sparkle.

A'tar commenst, eyes on the antics, not necessarily those on the sands, mind you, "Ah, so in this instance, 'White Makes Ripe'?"

Rissira watches, whipsering, "Come on now… find each other!"

On the sands, Zephrene notes the movement of dragonets, closer to the circle. Her hand steals toward her throat again as she looks from the wobbling dragonets to the queens and bronzes. And she doesn't move yet. Not quite yet.
On the sands, Katrineth crouches low, low to the sands, tail lashing, eyes brilliantly aglower. Yes, you.
On the sands, Oaips sees….another yelp, as the candidate backpeals, legs becoming wrapped within one another before she falls flat on her face. So this is what sand taste like…..
On the sands, Reine whistles, low and soft. Bronze. And what a bronze..
On the sands, Whyria is anchored by Reine's hand, and through her, by Magellan. So her most recent fit of movement concentrates on shuffling her feet, pushing the sand around and around. "I feel like everyone's moving slower.." Even the dragonets, even the eggs. Katrineth though, she could move fast.
On the sands, Lilluci gasps, and tugs on Fiona. "A brooooonze!"

Jerlana nods solemnly to A'tar, "With the right spices, mind you."

On the sands, Greyim watches the bronze break from spicy shell, fingers unconsciously lifting to his slackening mouth.

Kiris grins, watching the commotion on the sands.

Luther whistles quietly, leaning forward to watch.

On the sands, Fiona looks to Reine, just a few strides away, and nods. Then she's pulled away by Lilluci. "Yep. Pretty, pretty."
On the sands, Magellan can't help but gasp and emit a "Ohhhhhhhh." as a bronze erupts from egg plant shards. "What a handsome one." True enough, his voice trembles and shimmers like the heat from the sands.

Miranda whistles softly at the emergent bronze, "Wha' a lovely."

On the sands, Rosalth emits a beautiful bugle that cascades upon her newly hatched child. Calling to him in her excitment at his arrival.
On the sands, Ryka shifts, foot to foot. Oooh, hot. But just /look/ at 'em. She sighs. "Lovely."
On the sands, Zipporah drops her tongue across her lips: a fat, sand-paper tongue across crisp, chapped lips. ".. bronze; can't impress 'em—don't worry about 'em."

Brenna grins, still biting her nails and bouncing in excitement. "Bronze!"

On the sands, Tasher's eyes go even wider at the bright metallic glare in his eye, but he can't commit his gaze to one dragon, instead he rotates. Blue, green, bronze. Eggs, more eggs…Rosalth. Katrineth. Varianth. Byzanth. Over and over again.

T'ren oohs, as his eyes spot the little bronze. "So… beautiful…"

A'tar clucks as teh bronze makes his entrance. "I feel for that poor unlucky sod. Perhaps we should have fed them to the Queens first after all, since one of the boys will end up saddled with Bronze."

Telilah has disconnected.

Miranda clears her throat and tries again, "What a lovely one."

Mystech grins, "Oh a bronze, I wonder which lucky candie will Impress that one."

On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet rolls over and tries to get to his feet…wobbly, wobbly…and up, and well. Lookee here. A honking noise is the best he can make, infant eyes whirling.

Telilah has connected.

On the sands, Toria grins from ear to ear, beaming with shared pride.
On the sands, Smoky Island-Blue Dragonet skittles. Woah! Redlight, slow down, wait up……*skiiiiid* The dragonet flops to a halt before Oaips ballancing on his back legs, before flopping just before her. Sand.
On the sands, Terry almost bugles, as well, as bronze joins green and blue on a dance of seeking on the sands. Hope rises ascendant, ervousness confined to shuffling feet, ignored in the magic of the moment.

Jerlana mmmms in agreement with A'tar. "Put them out of their misery, certainly." Bronze indeed. But there is that lovely little blue….

Luther watches eggs pop.

Amery leans a little further out and rests her chin on her hands. "Aye, poor fella. Then again… There be worse fates 'n tha'. Don' ye think?"

On the sands, Fiona giggles at that blue. "Lil, he's a dancer!"
On the sands, Greyim looks at Magellan, looks at his hands, looks at that bronze — honking? His shoulders shake in laughter, but no sound from him as yet.
On the sands, Reine ftts her bangs as they start to get slightly damp and mold to her forehead. "It does seem like that.." Eyes flick to Mag for the briefest of moments, and a quiet hrmp is her only comment to that. Terry gets a decidedly odd look as it bugles. Feet shuffle still.

A'tar shakes his head, "In all seriousness, the only thing worse would be to Impress Gold."

On the sands, Oaips looks up, eyes wide as she sees the blue before her. "Maveth? Did you say Maveth?" Hand reaches out to scritch the blue, stunned.
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg shivers, rolling just a wee bit. Though this time the movement doesn't stop, but rather continues at a steady rhythm.

Vae's ears twitch, but she doesn't turn again.

On the sands, Lilluci clutches harder, a few trickles of sweat down her back making her rob stick slightly. She nods at Fiona and attempts a sickly smile.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Eggmanages a wobbly roll, quick-s-l-o-w, on its uneven side, and lodges in the sand, pale eyes buried. What's happening, what's happening?
On the sands, Milowny sighs, just sighs, her eyes so very wide. She manages the slightest of steps closer, towards the green, ever so tentative.
On the sands, Muireann giggles at Terry's antics, finally allowing some of her own nervousness to escape.

Jerlana shudders with repulsed vigor, "Hideous, to impress gold. Simply /hideous/," she agrees with A'tar.

On the sands, Green crackles out of an unassuming egg, all spitfire and childish glee as she scouts — tracks — and hits dead on that candidate from Bitra. Hello!
On the sands, Simonkely smiles weakly at his fellow candidate as the young redhead turns her own on him. Their fingers twine in shared comfort.

Kiris wriggles with sheer delight, she can't help it. Impression!

Miranda listens in… and turns a smile to the impression that is made. "Wow…"

Rissira starts clapping, and Oaips and the blue seem to have found each other, grinning.

On the sands, N'fra hmms, before looking to Ryka. "There's number one. I'll go get her." Over she moves to the downed pair, before grinning. "Come on…we'll need to get you both off to the side."
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet moves, humming tunelessly, to examine a candidate's billowing robe (*peepeye*), but soon abandons the game and returns to the girl she'd played with before, now still. Her own noise catches her attention, and she touches her blue-splashed throat with one curious talon.

Vae just squiggles lower in her seat and keeps facing forward.

On the sands, Dorina oooohs at Oaips. That got her attention. She gives the other a thumbs-up.

Mystech looks at A'tar "What's wrong with Golds and Bronzes?" Her eyes shine with humor, waiting for an answer.

On the sands, Whyria is, of course, moved to giggles at Zipporah's statement. High pitched, nervous, and very very fast. She's breathless though, they don't last long. "He's pretty."
On the sands, Ryka grins at the first Impression and pats at N'fra's back as she slips off to get the first pair.

Kyla gets that stupid grin that almost all riders do when witnessing an impression, "Yes you were cute, Nia."

On the sands, Tasher shivers as the unseeing eyes on the potatoish egg seems to stare at them all. Is it looking for it's match already?
On the sands, One impression — two — Arien's silent, still, eyes brilliant hazel.

Brandon cheers for each new dragonet in turn. "A bronze!" Which candidate will get that? Eye slip to one and another. Maybe that fellow next to Fi will get it," he whispers to whomever is near.

On the sands, Magellan breaks into a wide smile as first find first, and new lifemates meet. He calls a congrats and returns to feasting eyes on bronze and blue, darting occasional glances at fellows, dams and sires.

Lysalla cheers for the newly made pair, anxious to see the ones still to come.

On the sands, Zipporah uncurls her fingers — slow, slow, /slow/. "Think so?" her soft intone as she, once more, tightens her fingers. Can't let anyone think she was nervous.
On the sands, O'ps reorients, staggering to her feet, though her hand doesn't leave Maveth's muzzle. "That's it?" she blinks, dumbfounded as she's led off. "Gee."

Mystech cheers at the Impression.

Luther starts humming quietly to himself, apparently working out a new tune.

On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg vibrates violently, bumping up against Rosalth.

Amery raises a cheer for the new pair… which turns to soft laughter at O'ps comment.

On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet shakes his wings akwardly, fluid flying. Another honking noise is tried and he sways for a moment, before shuffling across the sands in a fast blurt, eyes spinning and wings dragging.
On the sands, Transfixed, Fi offers no words to the Impressed, yet, only smiles and nods. Good, good, this really happens.
On the sands, Zephrene catches sight of the impressions and blinks quickly. "Lovely…" she whispers, and smoothes her robe yet again. The mystery…
On the sands, Rosalth's attention is taken from the bronze, but only for a moment as she regards the sunflower egg at her feet.

On the sands, Tomato Horde Egg shreds apart in a flurry of shards and a startled squawk, as wet wings unfurl to upend a surprised dragonet face down onto the sands.
On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet
On the sands, Grey-green and smooth, this dragonet's sleek-knobbed head narrows into a definitive beak of a muzzle; that settled, her green then turns brilliantly vibrant
to the point of seeming unnaturalas it captures pointed 'ridges, channels the switch of that long tail, and near-eclipses the studied fold of full wings. A keen sense of self marks her carriage, saffron lurking in the darker veins of her underbelly and mottling the clench of stippled talons.

On the sands, Tasher catches sight of that metallic blur, even as he's forced to chuckle at such a silly sound. He takes his fill of the bronze, then turns once more to look at the blue still on the sands. Not to mention the other eggs.

A'tar shrugs, "I've heard certain metallic riders complain that they are forced to live a life apart, since the duties of leadership are so unfaily thrust upon them." His voice hides barely contained sarcasm. "I personally believe that that's just an excuse for being pitifully antisocial, to the point of denial."

Miranda glances at Brandon and nods… slowly. That fellow near Fi? Could he mean Mag? She looks down again and raises her fingers to her lips, teeth nibbling nails to nubs if allowed.

On the sands, Magellan's grin is fit to split his face as bronze honks, endearingly. He chuckles as it makes it ways, but jerks his gaze towards an egg erupting green.

Mystech smiles, "Oh another Green."

Jerlana laughs. "Not unlike you, A'tar?" 'Cept he's missing the metallic part.

Amery chuckles…

On the sands, Reine ffts again, and grins toward O'ps, who can't see her anyway. Then she returns to the metallic sheen of the bronze, the cracking of another egg. And other green. Somehow, from that egg, it suits.
On the sands, Greyim shuffles his feet, watching, watching, hands this time moving to clutch at his robe, sweaty-palmed.

T'ren chuckles and hugs 'Rani. "There's your egg, love… and a good-looking green out of it, as well."

Rissira grins, "Green… a sea of green…" She seems to be ignoring the chittering coming from her pack, where Lazybones resides, and the tugging of Moonsong on her ear, as the flit tries to keep her balance.

On the sands, Tasher takes another breath as the green is released from it's shadowy prison —will it's light be him perhaps? Another glance is thrown at the potato egg. Still his favorite, no matter who comes out of it.
On the sands, Too much to see, too many places to look. Fiona just stares, wide-eyed, although her eyes dart to that egg in Katrineth's shadow more than once.
On the sands, Whyria nods. "He's.." She's terrible with words, and leaves the statement hanging. "Oh!" One of her eggs hatched, the splotched and tempting tomoto egg is no longer intact. "Almost sad to see them go," she comments. Almost.

D'nara just beams. "Ah could take a bath in them grayeens."

A'var walks in.

A'tar laughs, tilting his head back at Jerla, "And if I say 'No.' I'm in denial, correct?" He grins. "point to you."

On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet creels, pale and shrill and unmistakeably /not happy/; Katrineth rumbles again, lower echo to the lightning, as the dragonet deals with a spare wing before gaining her feet.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Eggcooks where it's lodged in the sand, russet-brown skin threatening an eruption of its own from the pressure building within. Who forgot to poke the holes?
On the sands, Lilluci trembles, and her eyes nearly bug out of her face. A muttered monologue as Fiona's hand is squeezed even harder.
On the sands, With a gasp, Terry takes in the new arrival, drinking in vigorous green with abandon, and no satiation in sight.

Mystech grins at A'tar, "I've not noticed that problem with B'nal or Arien."

On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg rocks once more, then still— silent, as it does best.

Jerlana makes a mental note to put a notch representing A'tar somewhere later to commemorate her point. A nod to A'var.

Kiris giggles at Jacinth. "Careful you. I know some males who take their time choosing too." But eyes watch the little green intently…who will she choose?

On the sands, Dorina is now torn. Green, and green. Shifting from foot to foot, her focus widens to include the other.

Rattani nods at T'ren and snuggles up tight. "Indeed…" silent wishes are still sent towards Tasher.

On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg, under all those eyes, shelters again in the wing-lent shadows, in the sand as if it were a pile of fallen, wind-swept leaves.
On the sands, Webbed Trapdoor Egg spiders silky-soft against the sands, threads catching hereno, thereto create indiscernable cracks.
On the sands, Breathe, breathe, Fiona reminds herself silently. "Lil, lighten up," she hisses. "You're hurting my hand!"
On the sands, Zipporah groans slightly, "Sad to seem them go? They're not going quick enough!" Slight motions are allowed at this point: mainly just enough so she can rub her fingertips together.
On the sands, Unhappy green. Reine retrieves her hand from Mag a moment to push her bangs up. She should've tried to brush them back. Hand is slipped back into his as she hops to the other foot and watches, still mostly quiet, although you do hear an "Almost."
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet studies this one, quick eyes taking her in, curly dark hair to tanned talonless toes. She noses those feet, snuffling, identifying, querying — working her way up the smooth white sheath of robe.
On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet takes stock of the situation. Some big white blobs that just don't smell right…and so he moves again. No. Nope. Another honk, almost pitiful; as he looks for what he can not yet see. Where? He moves past two clutching girls with nary a look, eyes focused beyond.

T'ren smiles, as 'Rani snuggles closely to him and sighs contentedly before turning his attention back toward the sands.

On the sands, Milowny jitters, now, but the green's gone on, to someone elsebut oh, there's the blue, and, andas if that could answer her, she tugs on her hair some more.
On the sands, Greyim finds a comfortable sway, foot to foot, as if steadying a boat; dancing on whitecaps, shifting on the sands.

A'tar agrees with Mystech. "Correct. Not all metallic riders are included in that. Arien and B'nal being prime examples." A crreping smile produces a look of something very near good natured Evil. "And from the reports I've heard, our lovely Vae has aquitted herself quite valiantly in the social department. A 'staggering' victory for companionship, I'd say."

On the sands, Tasher gives a nervous giggle at the bronzes antics. He can't help it, it's really very funny if you think about it.
On the sands, Lilluci winces, and eases the pressure on Fiona's hand. "Sooooory."
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg rocks back and forth with insistance, banging against Rosalth. The queen peers down at the egg and backs, kicking sand to create a levee between her and it.
On the sands, Magellan takes the opportunity to pass bare arm cross sweat beaded brow as Reine's hand releases his, then finds his again. He asides "All right?" breathlessly as glance flows from one youngster to another.
On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet's creel drops to a full-fledged warble, and she shakes out her wingsshards go flyingand, red-eyed, that narrow head swings to search out her lifemate.
On the sands, Reine giggles as well. Tasher's vcontagious.

Vae nearly disappears in her seat now, though through the din someone listening closely might catch the thin whimper of: "A-/tarrrrrrrrrr/."

On the sands, Whyria reminds, "I said almost." Time is flowing too slowly at the moment for anything to be going too fast. "I think we've been out here forever already." She stares, swallowing, licking her lips.
On the sands, Muireann just watches, watches it all. Silent but for the odd whispered comment to Terry. Her eyes are wide but excitement now, more than fear, colours them.
On the sands, Zephrene stands absolutely still and starses down at the lovely creature inspecting her feet. Oh, my. "You…?" Fingernails dig into her palm where her fist rests at the base of her throat.

Brandon watches green and bronze and all the confounded honking. Some poor fellow is going to have to sleep with that noise. He points, leaning toward the girl next to him. "I think that girl there will get a green. But that bronze is lost i think."

Amery chuckles, darting a glance back at A'tar. *heh*

On the sands, Shardit, shells— and indeed there are, a blue rising out of them to be swiftly joined by a twinned green. Striking out independently, the latter finds company first in a lanky lad from the beastcraft; the first wanders for a time, finally finding solace at the far end of candidate's row—/you/.
On the sands, For answer, Reine clutches Whyria's hand closer and points toward Zeph. "Look."
On the sands, Tasher may very well be contagious. Perhaps that's why he's standing like a stick in the middle of all that candie-mud? Or perhaps it's some misguided notion of bravery and manliness? —anyhoo, he's certainly fixated on what's happening around him. That's the only sure thing.

Mystech smiles at A'tar, "And just how social are /you/? Hmmm?"

On the sands, Ryka beams a smile as she recognizes the second impression in its midst. She levers a look at Madri, murmuring, "Wanna go get her, lass? Or shall I?"
On the sands, Fiona's eyes are rivited on Zephrene. "Lil, Lil, /look/!"

On the sands, Dustin steps onto the Sands and finds a place.

This young man exhibits faint traces of the wilderness, random, swift motion combined with pointed silence, a touch of the predator, a hint of the prey. His eyes are his most distinguishing feature: bright green leaves with flecks of golden sunlight, they are much too large for his thin face. The sharply slanted bones of his face are clearly visible through nearly translucent skin that just won't tan. His hair falls about him like a concealing cloak of autumnal leaf tones: burnished gold and flaming red. Expressive, thin hands, delicately boned, assist his eyes in speaking volumes of silence.
Soft white cotton cloth has been carefully formed into a robe. It drapes off his shoulders in graceful folds, falling to just a few inches above his sandal-encased ankles. The Candidate robe looks like it was professionally made, each hemline neatly perfect, and decorated with an edging of satiny white ribbon. White embroidery dresses up the plain simplicity of the robe on the shoulders and vee-neck hemline, abstract in pattern, yet adding a certain elegance. A belt, braided of more glossy white ribbon snugs the robe to his waist, held in place by a simple flat knot above his left hip, with no extra lengths to dangle down.
Dustin is 18 Turns, 1 month, and 22 days old.
He is awake and looks alert.
Only the faintest traces of crimson dye remain on his face.

A'var hangs onto the railing for support, catching his breath and trying to look for all the world as if he hasn't run the length of the bowl. Which, of course, he has. He spies Jerlana and Vae before the faces start blurring. He waves at the blur and the consults a sheath of papers clutched in his fist. "Amery, were you betting?"

On the sands, Lilluci does look, and a delighted smile lights that usually pouty face. "Oh Zephrene!"
On the sands, N'fra has done her first shuffling duty, before she runs over to the end of the row, catching green weyrling and her lifemate. "This way, please."

Lysalla calls out her thrill at what looks to be Zephrene's impression. "Excellent! That green couldn't have chosen better." She finally spots A'var and waves, smiling.

On the sands, Fiona has a free hand, and she uses it to wave at Dustin, motion him in.
On the sands, Muireann's eyes turn to mark Dustin's entrance and she offers an excited smile.

Miranda figures she is the one Brandon is speaking to. She shrugs, "Maybe." Her gaze touches the bronze and again she shrugs. "He's for one of /those/ fellows, I'm guessing. Her finger finds Mag, then Greyim. "Course, he /could/ be heading over there… This time, it is a group of fisherboys from Ista she fingers from afar.

On the sands, Milowny steps cautiously around to the side and, once she gets there, consciously mimics Zephrene's posture. If it's working for her, maybe, just maybe…
On the sands, I found you, I /found/ you! Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet's eyes focus on /her/ candidate's questioning ones. You.
On the sands, Magellan cheers Zepphie, gleefully pointing out the new lifemates to anyone near. "Yahhhh!"
On the sands, Whyria turns at Reine's instruction. "Oh shells.." Zephrene.
On the sands, Madri smiles and knowing smile to Ryka and nods once. Another moment or two and she moves to step out and great the new lifelong pairing.

Brenna looks over closer, peering closer. "Is that Zeph?" A grin alights on her face. "Whaddya know!"

On the sands, Dorina pouts, just a little, but the moment erases the disappointment.

A'tar smiles sweetly, "I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm social enough to make a person sick-" smile quirks for a brief instant into a smirk, "But I get by as meager rations on a rainy day."

On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg shudders violently and begins a steady rock against the sandpile holding it in place: thump, thump, thump.

Is Vae still there? She seems to have vanished.

On the sands, Reine winces. "That's my ear, Magellan." But her eyes are still on Zeph, and she's grinning bigtime.
On the sands, Greyim blinks a couple of times, pushing his glasses up onto his nose, looking at nearby green; "What?"

Amery glances a smile to A'var and shakes her head, "Nae, lad. I ain' got marks 'nuff f'r that. Who'd ye bet on?"

Rissira wows, and cheers, the person she knows has impressed! "Yeeeha!"

Kiris grins. Another Impression! On the ledges, Jacinth rumbles approvingly. Still, "I wonder if the good-looking guy from Nerat will impress green." Wishful thinking?

On the sands, Zipporah projects her gaze up and /over/ the crowds — that a friend who impressed? ".. that Sjoe o'er there?" wondered aloud.

Mystech cheers Zephrene, proud of her student.

On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg turns, twists and dances just a hint more. Stopping once more to catch it's breath.
On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet hastens. /That/ one doesn't feel righttoo tall?and that one doesn't eithertoo slow?but …shards. Literally; they snarl her claws and then her muzzle lifts, suddenly imploring.
On the sands, Dustin stands quietly and just watches.
On the sands, Zephrene hears her name, looks up, then back to the dragonet at her feet, eyes wide. "I don't…" know what to do now? She stands, feet browning nicely, and waits.
On the sands, Tasher catches his breath as he sees his favorite egg moving yet again. C'mon, hatch. —he's just /dying/ to know who's in there!
On the sands, I found you, I /found/ you! Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet's eyes focus on /her/ candidate's questioning ones. You.
On the sands, Streamlined Sea-Green Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Zephrene.

A'var slants a grin towards Amery. "I just collect the bets, ma'am, but even the cheapest .harper. has laid a bet…"

On the sands, Arien doesn't step away from Katrineth as step forward, the burnished wing extending with hera beckon of welcome. Dustin. Made it. And she looks around to the others.
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg rocks back and forth in the furrow Rosalth created for it, nearly tipping over the side at one point.
On the sands, Webbed Trapdoor Egg sheds dead leaves, clayed blacks now taking dominance
but still woven with spider's silver thread; hatching's silver cracks.
On the sands, Reine yeses. "Zephrene!" A call entirely filled with joy. She beams.
Mystech glares at A'var, "I haven't..what does that say about me?"

A'tar leans forward,"I'll bet you a kiss, Amery, that the Trapdoor one there hatches Brown."

Amery bristles at /that/ word, eyes narrowing slightly. She glances toward the eggs, then down at the new dress that cost her so much. Finally a shrug, "A' righ', A'var."

On the sands, Tasher lets out a yip for his candidate friend —did one of the spitmongrels get into the cavern?
On the sands, "Zephrene!" Fi's voice sounds triumph for her friend.
On the sands, A hand slowly rises to Muireann's "O" of a mouth as first Impression is made. Then smile breaks and "Zephrene!" is called breathily.
On the sands, Magellan echoes the cheer, and the beam.

I bespoke Miyoth with: I sense that Katrineth croons, the deepest of thrums—as, intent, she drinks you in: oh, /very/ welcome indeed. «

On the sands, Dustin smiles at Zephrene, but most of his attention remains… alsewhere.
On the sands, Madri's grin broadens as pairing is finally made. Feet are moved as she steps out to greet Zephrene and her newfound lifemate.

A'var arches a brow at Mystech and offers an oily grin, "That your opportunity has just arrived!"

On the sands, Kh'rys and Lysalla are proven right: a Clean Candidate does wonders, and can accomplish anything. Like keeping the /weyrling/ barracks clean.

Amery's gaze touches A'var's and she chuckles. Then a nod and a wink, "Yer on, lad. I'm sayin' i' be Blue."

On the sands, Katrineth ducks her head; croons, the deepest of thrums for her firstling, who's found. And Arien—well, she'll save that shell.

Amery pats the bench beside her, inviting A'var to sit down and watch with her.

On the sands, Zephrene somehow knows now, and reaches out to touch the green, /her/ lifemate. "Oh, Miyoth!" Her smile is quite wide, and very real.
On the sands, Terry calls congrats to the pair, as well. A smile as bright as a mountain of glows follows the pair to their new life together.

Brandon cheers for ZEph, though he doesn't know who she is. It's the wonder of the thing. He grins at Miranda. "It'd be one of those," he says pointing toward Magellan and Greyim. Those are Fi's friends, so he roots for them.

Mystech arches an eyebrow in query, "And just what opportunity is that?"

On the sands, Toria cheers as Zephrene calls the beautiful name, "Wonderful!"

Brenna cheers loudly. "Yay Zeph!"

On the sands, N'fra watches, before motioning to Ryka. "You, Madri, or me?" Head inclines to Zephrene, and Miyoth.
On the sands, Whyria winces, eyes drifting away from Zephrene at the other green's protests. "Miyoth," she repeats, under her breath.
On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet swivels his head at the sound of /that/ voice. He looks again, and stops, eyes whirling at the sight of sunlight flashing off of eyes. How curious. He moves closer, useless wings forgotten. A quiet honk, which ends in a question as he seeks reassurance. He moves closer still, seeing his own reflection mirrored back at him. A softer honk - and he sways a little uncertainly.

Miranda sighs, scooting further from the others though she lightly smiles at the fellow beside her. "You think?"

On the sands, Tasher slips into scan mode, even as he silently cheers for Zephrene and Miyoth.
On the sands, Reine says, "Oh, that's such a pretty name.." A moment more, and then movement out of the corner of her eye regains her attention. Oh yah. Eggs.
On the sands, "OhZephrene! /Look/," Zipporah mentions with a hazy grin, lop-sided but a grin all the same.
On the sands, Arien murmurs silently, reflectively, and without the wince
'Miyoth'. Yes.
On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg begins to rock too and fro as well as back and forth, creating a crazy frenzy of motion.
On the sands, Fiona's eyes move on to fix on Greyim, sweet, gentle Greyim, and what's that he's got staring him in the face?
On the sands, Greyim reaches out, dares, breathes, hand stretching… for bronze…

Luther is still watching quietly, his eyes half closed, humming and mumbling words.

Vae, huddled up and near-invisible in her seat, doesn't cheer .. the faintest of smiles, and unfocused eyes, and she just endures a dragon's enthused babbling. Yes, she's watching.

On the sands, Magellan laughs with abandon, joyfully. "Miyoth! Grand!"
On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg stirs again, from the leaf-sands, from the earlier hatchlings' few-flung shards.
On the sands, Madri smiles down at Zephrene and motions for her and Miyoth to follow her to Sands' edges.

A'var's head inclines gratefully, chin brushing collar with the florid half-bow. "A sporting wager, if you're _really_ destitute. On Lyrioth's shell, mayhap," he says taking his seat by Amery.

On the sands, Dustin chuckles softly, finally moving closer to the rest of the Candidates. "Conrats, Zeph, she's lovely."

Miranda watches the hand stretching fellow and nods, "You are right."

On the sands, Zephrene presses her cheek against Miyoth's muzzle for a moment before walking beside the beautiful green to the edge of the Sands. "Miyoth," she whispers, repeating it in wonder as she goes.
On the sands, And yet another motion catches Reine's eye and her head whips around to focus on Greyim. A slight wince. Brilliant, kiddo. But the moment is immediately forgotten as she pratically stares at the tableau.
On the sands, B'nal rubs knuckles into a Byzanthine shoulder, murmuring, "Zephrene got one of yours, see? The little green." And Byzanth croons. He saw.

Mystech grins impishly at A'var, "Oh, I think I've a few marks to spare."

Amery's eyebrow rises a little and she leans a little closer to A'var as he sits, "It'll be innerestin' t' see how many other wagers ye've made, lad." A wink, "Y'ken?"

On the sands, Muireann's attention is captured by spiral's stirring, but only briefly as eyes widen to take in bronze nearby. Oh Grey…
On the sands, One hard rock and the Dusky Sunflower Egg appears to bounce, catching the slightest bit of air.

Lysalla leans in to watch Greyim and the bronze so close. "A fine pair they'll make I think."

On the sands, Tasher gives Dustin a nod, motioning for him to get into the fray, not that it matters, since the dragons will search him out if they want him. likewise for stone-boy Tash.
On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet breathes back, eyes whirling, lost in the depths behind the flashing eyes. Blue. His eyes. His. Ours. Forever.
On the sands, Rosalth watches the egg before her with a look of horror, frisky egg.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg's thumping goes double-time as it rocks /both/ sides against sandunes
thumpTHUMP, thumpTHUMPinadvertently burrowing it deeper into hot, hot sand-oven.
On the sands, Magellan focuses on the tableau as Greyim reaches, breah starting and catching in throat…
On the sands, Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Greyim.
On the sands, Fiona's attention is drawn back to that lovely flower egg, so smooth, so smooth
but she forces herself to look once again toward Greyim. There. Yes. There.
On the sands, Dorina is still focused on green and, therefore, missing a lot. Two track mind this girl has. Guys and Green.
On the sands, Dustin grins at Tasher… then watches the eggs patiently.
On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet finds focus: a tall girl, with ruddy-dark hair, with that so-worried expression; with wings held high, she treads carefully for her, heedless of whoever might be in the way.
On the sands, Reine inhales sharply. Is it? Is he..?
On the sands, Greyim opens trembling arms, come *here*, come here… "Kolyath," he breathes, completely taken.

Mystech cheers for Greyim, "He Impressed a Bronze!"

Kiris whoops. "Grey!" A broad grin.

On the sands, Tasher shouts a cheer for Greyim, then falls silent so quickly as to be undnerving. "Yeah Greyim…" then his eyes glue themselves to the Half-Baked Potato egg.
On the sands, Ryka swallows hard, deep in her throat. So sweet, some of them. Lithe footsteps leave the impression of her passage as she goes to collect the rapt pair. Gentle hand reaches to pat the new weyrling Greyim…G'rey….G'….on his shoulder to direct them to the side.

I bespoke Kolyath with: I sense that Katrineth brushes your mind in sunrise, lit with her inimitable amber, with myrrh—ahh, you /found/ him. «

On the sands, Magellan's breath resumes and he howls, as bronze and Grey find each other "Yayyy! Kolyath!"
On the sands, Dustin grins, applauds for Greyim.

A'tar looks up at the newest pair, and tsks. A glance back at Jerla, "Only time will tell, eh Jerla?"

Tevar walks in.

On the sands, Whyria repeats her performance, "Kolyath." Maybe she'll even remember the names after all is said and done. A long, shudder filled breath follows. "Things are speeding up."
On the sands, Muireann gasps delightedly. "Yes!" Eyes and lips smile together at Greyim and Kolyath.

Rissira grins, and applauds the parings down on the sands, mug of klah now sitting on the ground by her feet, forgotten.

On the sands, Reine cheers, and actually bounces in place. "Greyim!!!!!!!!!!!!"

A'var rolls his papers and just smiles at Amery. "The tote never loses…In the end. Greyim! Gr'im? Good thing I was running short odds on the kid even if he does like Math."

On the sands, Fiona releases Lilluci's hand, the better to jump up and down and squeal with deligh for Greyim. Does he hear her? Probably not. But she was there. She was there. "Yes, Greyim!"
On the sands, Bronze dares the sands from a vibrant blue egg in Katrineth's guarded sphere, shell left to dangle atop his muzzle before befuddled, cross-eyed contemplation yields to impatience and it is shaken away. Shake, shaken, stirred, and he homes in on a boy of Fort Hold, barely fourteen—but is interrupted by a gangly green taking up far too much space than is her right. He noses around, and claims, while the green sprawls, then chooses the slightly older lad beside.

"Should'a fed him to Katrineth, I say," mutters Jerla. "Save him a heap of bronze trouble."

Brandon nods. "I think so, too," He nearly whispers to Miranda as if he's known her forever instead of the duration of the hathching. "My favorite is Fiona over there." She of the questionable lineage. Still, he can over look that for how well she knits. Hands reach into pouch for the needles she lent him before leaving. "She's teaching me how to knit when she gets back."

On the sands, Dusky Sunflower Egg quakes; its petals begin to wilt and crumble, falling softly to the sands, first one by one, then in a shower. From the core then bursts the sun, having been stored there for all these long months; the flower, no longer in need of its warmth and light, releases it unto the world. The bronzy-gold is left standing amongst the fallen petals of her past.
On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet
On the sands, Flamboyance polishes this young queen, her bronzy-gold hide both bright and light, her eyes agleam in curious delight; compact and curvy of build, she possesses not so much height but size. Spring-green vines twine about her angular neckridges and up into the opaque sweep of wings, faithfully tracing veins and arteries alike; they blossom into the orangey-gold of saffron winghooks, the same vibrance of hue that marks talons' gentle curve.

On the sands, Zephrene looks away from her lovely Miyoth long enough to smile at Greyim's Impression. Now he knows, too.
On the sands, Lilluci claps her hands, and squeals, "Ooooooh! Greeeeeeeyiiiiim!!!"
On the sands, Bloomin' Lilac Egg vibrates a rock: once, twice, again.
On the sands, Fiona gasps and steps back. "Reine, Reine…"

Mystech says, "Oh! A gold!"

Lysalla sucks in a breath, nudging Kiris beside her. "There.. the gold."

Rissira blinks, and mouth drops at the sight of a… yes, a Gold!

On the sands, And there's one down, another; Arien nods briefly, as if in confirmation.
On the sands, Reine gasps out, a mere whisper. "Fi…"

Brenna suddenly ooohs. "Look! Gold!" Bright blue eyes scan the sands. Who will she choose? Bounce, bounce, nibble.

Jerlana's eyes roll. "Wouldn't you just know, a gold. A'tar, there's no /end/ to it, is there?"

Amery's laughter rises, "Hope 'e goes f'r somethin' less grim soundin'. Still, tis a likely lookin' pair…"

On the sands, Tasher can't help but appreciate the beauty of the newly hatched gold; eyes fixating briefly before sliding away again. He can't impress her, but he can hope for his fellow female candidates —somewhere deep inside that's not lost in the hatching.
On the sands, Magellan's eyes are torn from a pair yet again, as gleaming gold makes an appearance. "Oooohhh. Gold…" He whistles at the vision of compact loveliness.

A'var cranes to look on Mystech with a grin. "You said it. This is where the big money is."

On the sands, Fiona forgets all about Lilluci and moves in toward Reine; who cares who's hand she's holding. "Reine, Reine, /look/!"
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg rocks wildly, almost ready, almost cooked—only those snaky green lines seem to hold its shuddering skin together now!

Miranda smiles at the enthusiatic man beside her. "I hear she made a knitted dress for some harper or other. Can you /imagine/ it?"

On the sands, "/Shards/—" Zipporah pushes out. Squeaks and gasps better defines what she does. "Grey and now her!"
On the sands, Muireann's jaw drops at sight of saffron gold; born in all the commotion and she missed it. Breath is expelled in low whistle and Terry gets another whisper as she points to the little lovely.
On the sands, Whyria shuffles back; head turns Fi-wards. What? What? Wait, that was Magellan. Attention shifting as easily as the sands between her feet, the ex-cook swings her eyes around to stare at the gold.

The Entire Fort Hold Contigent goes crazy for a moment, patting themselves on the back and grinning like a pack of Lucky Bitrans. No one manages to get hurt as they reseat themselves.

Kiris nods to Lys. "Gorgeous. You can see Rosalth's color in her."

Vae's toes curl and fingers clench: she's half here, and half somewhere else, sometime else.

On the sands, Lilluci backs up slowly, eyes round and mouth open.
On the sands, Terry laughs and claps hands as the new lifemates make their way, away. Returning gaze sights Gold, and amazement colours rotound face.
On the sands, Greyim follows Ryka, but his hand never ever leaves Kolyath, touching, always.
On the sands, Tasher gasps and wills the half-baked potato egg to hatch. "C'mon…you can do it!" he says in a neverending litany that matches the shifting of his burning feet.
On the sands, Reine takes a half-step forward, dropping her grip on poor Mag's hand. Sorry, fellah. "Oh, she's..she's…" She breaks off and merely shakes her head.Beyond description, apparently.
On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet stands silently amongst the frantic goings ons on the sands, her smoothly whirling eyes casting about in a calm careful fashion. With a thoughtful ease she begins her journey into the vast mass of the cavern, beginning the search for the one who will be /hers/.

Lysalla nods completely, watching Fiona join Reine with a smile. Perhaps….Her attention returns to the gold, to watch which she chooses.

On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg rustles sussurrant against the grainy sand—friction making its mark on the delicate, if rock-hard, shell.

Three hundred … previous… candidates all stand up in unison and shout their appreciation of the gold hatchling.

A'var turns to Amery. "Gr'im is a bit—grim." He pulls a face and laughs. "I like it."

On the sands, N'fra whistles low. "Look at her," she mentions, brows rising as she leans back on her heels.
On the sands, Ryka smiles gently at her charges and takes them to the side, visage sweet and sharp at once. The expression echoes in those around her as she steps back. True love. Purest delight.
On the sands, Dustin stares at the queen. How lovely.
On the sands, Magellan beams at Tash and adds his urgings "Come be born!" Eyes follow gold and green and bronze as everything blurs together.
On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg catches the hint of another breeze. This one, internal. It picks up, dips, twists then fades to a slow ticking sway.
On the sands, Fiona's made it to Reine's side. Hand reaches. Tight, tight, tight, she grasps. "Reine, Reine, Reine," she whispers. "Reine." Other words escape her.
On the sands, Milowny hesitates; then suddenly smiles, her flower-mouth gentle, dreamy.

As if one, three hundred heads turn their attention - briefly - toward A'tar, before shifting and concentrating intently on the sands.

On the sands, Dorina glances over at gold-struck people's sides. Gold. Pretty. Not green, but pretty.
On the sands, B'nal nods, a tight smile on his face as he contemplates the progress of the young queen.
On the sands, Silvery twisting gets a look too, but too many dragonets are on the sands to take attention from them for a moment. Gold and green and blue and Shards!
On the sands, Reine remembers to breath. "Oh Fi.." Hand clasps just as tight, and feet are firmly planted. She's enrapt.
On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet steps a little closer; a little closer—oh, flowers, and that smile, reflected in her eyes.

Amery leans forward now, watching the pairings and weavings of color. So far, she's avoided noticing the three hundred, though it is increasingly difficult. "Aye. Twould be dif'rent."

On the sands, Vigorous Twice-Green Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Milowny.
On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet ambles slowly across the sands, her head dipping now again to catch herself from falling. Clumsy wings drag the ground as she seesaws to keep her balance. All of this creates a slow pace, dragging herself to the candidates.
On the sands, Zipporah has disconnected.
On the sands, A small boy with a shock of yellow hair drops to his knees. "Fenrath!"

A'tar tosses up his hands and shakes his head. "We-" Mouth shuts with a clack as he peers at those Ex Candies. Somebody had a good hand in their teaching, he'd have to say. Well coordinated, good volume, round tones. Eyes glaze and hands clench in anticipation of epic battles that might have been. Alas. A salute is thrown to the Valiant Three Hundred.

Kiris holds her breath, hoping, but she's not sure quite what.

On the sands, Milowny shivers againM'wy, now"Oh, /Katzeth/," and a trembling, wondering hand brushes high on the twice-green's muzzle.
On the sands, Magellan cheers for Milowny and awaits the Name. Ahhh. And another. Blur, blur, blur. He casts eyes to his feet to regroup, droplets of sweat streaming.
On the sands, Rosalth watches her newly born daughter with grat curiosity.
On the sands, The sands are busy tonight, crowded with customers of blue, green, and brown—there, that one, that brown, headed towards that girl? No, behind her, /him/, he of the red-red hair and face to match.
On the sands, Dorina blinks. Katzeth. Oh well. She smiles at Milonwy.

Three hundred ex-candidates, as one, return the salute to A'tar, and nod their appreciation for that training, before once more turning to watch the hatching.

On the sands, Tasher shifts to and fro, chanting that neverending litany for the brown mottled egg. Bake. Bake. Bake. Will it be soft inside?
On the sands, Bloomin' Lilac Egg doesn't so much rustle as /shake/.
On the sands, Lilluci hugs her arms around herself, trembling. So many dragons, and she's overwhelmed.
On the sands, Dustin shifts on the sands, closer to Magellan. He rolls his eyes, then goes back to queen-watching. She's pretty, and the weaver wonders who'll she claim as her own.
On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg's thin skin is drawn taut, dry heat all around, steaming pressure within; small fissures appear in the loamy surface threatening to erupt!
On the sands, Two Impressions, so quickly. Muireann smiles for both pairs. Shivers take her, even so hot as it is in here. Blue and gold and eggs! still.

On the sands, Half-Baked Potato Egg buckles and dirt-brown shards ripple to the sand as its dragonet emerges, slowly unfolding himself — /backwards/ — and comes tail-first into the world. And what a tail it is!
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet
On the sands, He's a long, lean drink of water, this laid-back dragonet; neither muddied nor tarnished, browny-bronze hue crests liquidly over his crane of neck and all the way down to oversized paws. Nor is he shadowed; it's the warm reflections of a sun-dappled stream that dance paler overtones under his belly and over his wingsails, shimmering and shifting to a true gold at fingersails' very tips. Wide-set eyes regard the world in a sidelong fashion, intrepidly aware.

On the sands, Reine forgets to fft, forgets to shift…she leans in to Fi and murmurs, "Bet she's for you.."

Mystech says, "Oh another Bronze!"

Luther has disconnected.

On the sands, Fiona shakes her head and stares at Reine with big grey eyes wider for heat and wonder. "No, no, for you."
On the sands, Byzanth rrrrumbles, watching. Watching.
On the sands, Magellan lifts hand to Dustin's shoulder, a pat or simply to retain equilibrium. He raises his eys to glance and smile, then turns them to newly hatched bronze. Ohhhh, my. "Yay!" Beams at Tash.

Amery nods a glance to the newest bronze, "Look a' tha' un. Y' c'n see 'is sire in 'im."

T'ren's jaw drops. "Huh? Two bronzes in one hatching? That's… " His voice trails off, not sure what to say.

A'tar smiles and turns back to the hatching as well, mood appreciably brightened. He even manages a broad smile as bronze emerges from that trap door, and a kiss blown towards Vae.

On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet slowly makes her waves to the candidate closest to her, giving the girl a quick sniff before moving on down the line. Carefully she inspects each one as she goes, passing on each.

A'var shoots A'tar a look. 'Tar was a protype for 'Var. They should be cheering him! "That's the third bronze. One of Rosalth's, or Katrineth's?" he asks aloud.

Miranda leans a little toward the weaver, "Is it like this /all/ the time?"

Kiris aiees. "I owe Dannar an eighth. I bet brown would come out of that egg." Eyes return to Fi and Reine.

On the sands, Dorina clutches her hands to her chest and hip-hops in place, perfectly silent…and watches.
On the sands, Whyria twists her fingers up in her robe, eyes on the queen, the other eggs and then again the queen. A magnet for attention, that she is.
On the sands, M'wy doesn't so much lead her dragonet as walk with her, both stumbling, both pairs of eyes aglow, over towards the weyrlingmaster.

Rissira's head goes back and forth, trying to keep an eye on everything, and everyone at once.

On the sands, Tasher lets forth a loud bellow. "WHOOHOO!" as the bronze breaks open the potato egg. Now, his sight is glued to the former occupant, even as he wonders if he'll be able to snag a bit of that shell.
On the sands, Dustin smiles a bit in bemusement, he likes all the dragonets… no favorites here.
On the sands, Varianth gleams red-rivered bronze, all smug and lazy at the same time.
On the sands, Fiona clutches Reine's hand and draws closer. Watching and waiting. And breathing. Breathe, girl, don't forget to breathe.
On the sands, B'nal laughs!
On the sands, Bloomin' Lilac Egg shakes againharder, harder
On the sands, Ryka welcomes yet another pair, settling them as they either croon anxiously or whisper words of adoration.
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet falls out of the shell, landing his tail directly on a stray/sharp/shard, at which he utters a short, curious cry.

Brenna keeps on bouncing. All this excitement! She continues to nibble her nails, eyes moving across the sands.

On the sands, Reine chews on her lip, nervously. Her other hand is still attempting to hang on to Whyria's, but if it had been let go, she hasn't noticed. She hangs on to Fi, however, for dear life. What was that about breathing? She's forgotten again.
On the sands, Dustin blinks at the bronze, wondering at the source of that unusual noise.
On the sands, Fiona inhales, managing a wink, wound up as she is, toward Reine. Like /this/.
On the sands, Tasher lifts a hand to his round mouth as the brownze falls out of his shell. "Oh!" is all he manages to say as he continues his swaying.
On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg hesitates—then moves again, a hairline crack spinning across its shell.

Miranda watches the bunch on the sands, though her gaze returns continually to a particular candidate. She'll have to remember to tease him about the robe once this is over and they are out of here.

On the sands, Reine giggles nervously. Oh yah. She manages a wink back as well.
On the sands, Lilluci's eyes widen as the small gold walks near her. Her breath catches, and she shakes, hands clutching and unclutching at her robe.
On the sands, Magellan's breath catches again as he watches laid back bronze make it's way toward them. Is his dizziness heat or just lack of oxygen? He knows not, as the sands disappear and focus shifts to one only. He winces at a fall, and a cry. Sympathetic pain causes him to cry out "Owwww."

Brandon cheers for the second bronze, forgetting about Miranda in his enthusiasm for a moment. "Go Fort!" Heck. He'll cheer for the whole darn weyr. And he leans down at Miranda. "The gold is moving. Do you see it!" His hands pound the railing before someone yells DOWN IN FRONT. "Okay, Okay." *flop*.

On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet pauses before a girl with braided raven hair, and warm klah-colored eyes. She has the eye for beautiful things. For a moment her attention strays to the boyman with a badly sewn robe. Offering him a warble, she lifts high to once again regard the girl.
On the sands, Zipporah twists for a better look, strands of damp hair clinging to her skin; abruptly she pushes them away, nails scraping, "…Can't see, can't /see/…"
On the sands, Whyria isn't paying much attention to her hands — given their slippery state, it's likely that the one previously clutching Reine's has fallen free. Winking nearby, she misses. Magellan's cry, that she misses too, though her eyes shift in that direction briefly.

Miranda looks up at the enthusiastic weaver. Then, she turns to look at the golden dragonette and she nods, "A pretty thing from up here." From down there??? It's probably different.

On the sands, Fiona stands stock still. "Reine, Reine, Reine…."
On the sands, Another egg falls victim to its green occupant, spilling the pale creature out on her back. Whoops. The dragonet rearranges herself with a minimum of physical fuss but a great deal of vocal complaint, and promptly hands over responsibility to that blond girl standing near.

Kyla catches her breath as the gold pauses before a familiar face, "Reine….." she almost pleads, "Come on little one…impress.."

Lysalla leans foward on the edge of her seat, eyes fixed now only to the gold. "Reine.. it it Reine?"

On the sands, Calvin blinks in from ::between::!
On the sands, Muireann is unaware that she is holding her breath, watching the gold watching the girl, until oxygen depletion starts to set in and she inhales sharply.

Brenna jumps up in her seat. "It's Reine!"

Vae sits up straighter. Straighter—

On the sands, Audacious — or maybe just dizzy from thrumming — Calvin dangles from one of the low-lying ledges, swinging in time to his congratulatory arpeggios.

A'tar leans forward. "Maybe we're in for a mauling here. I hope not, but it's been a while. We're due."

Brandon leans in….

On the sands, Bloomin' Lilac Egg shivers once and then crumbles to dust of brown, of green, of lavender and nearly-white — revealing a just-awakened dragonet, red-eyed and dazed with light and sound.
On the sands, Tenacious Mountain-Brown Dragonet
On the sands, Stout in every way
especially of heartthis deeply brown dragonet is built with ursidae's own huskiness: thick of neck, powerful of haunches, and possessed of a shambling gait that, with muscles' every ripple, casts darker overtones in the warm walnut of his hide. The barrel of ribs, the short, strong tail, they're shadowed beneath with muddy umber while muzzle's tip seems dipped in fawn; gentle seem his eyes, whirling with stalwart pride — but his blunt, black talons are those of a true carnivore.

On the sands, Reine stops chewing and stands stock still, watching, waiting. It's not necessary to breathe, is it? Her hand is clutching Fi's hand so hard it /has/ to be white. And she watches. And waits…

Rissira blinks, and sits bolt upright. "Reine? Is… is it?"

On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonetjumps up and away from the offending shard, shaking his tail to dislodge fragments. He shakes again, a twisting motion from muzzle- to tail-tip, egg-fluid spraying everywhere.

Kyla waves over hr shoulder at A'tar, "Shush…"

On the sands, Tasher sways and feels like he's going to slither to his feet, but he can't, this is too important —soul burns along with sole.
On the sands, Who'd notice if Reine's hand were white, there in Fi's alabaster one. "Reine, Reine, Reine." Were there other words?

Telilah comments, to noone in particular, "Quite a few bronzes…"

On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg pitches back and forth with a sudden burst of energy and zest. It's rocking motions intensifying with every moment.

Nerine follows one of the staircases up.

Jerlana snickers, "And what do you think I placed wagers on, A'tar?" Been far too long, due for a minor mauling.

On the sands, Magellan takes solace in the jump away, and notes another entry into the cavern. He calls out in welcome! His gaze widens to encompass both brown and bronze, welcoming equally, as he fills to overflowing with a burgeoning hope. Perhaps, just perhaps… ?
On the sands, In the curve of Katrineth's wing, invisible, the Snail's Curl Egg: a cracking, a cracking, a /cracking/, that's thrice.
On the sands, Lilluci's knees give way and she stumbles, picking herself up off of the hot sands. She moves a little closer to Reine and Fiona, hand stretched out in empathy, envy, and excitement.
On the sands, Tenacious Mountain-Brown Dragonet targets his prey from the onslaught, shambling in the direction of a pair of candidates. Desperation marks his emotions, hunger bearing deeply into his soul.

A'tar nods a 'Yes Ma'am' and oohs. "Ah, now there's the pride of the clutches. A brown. And a good entrance."

On the sands, Tasher wipes at his face a bit —is it raining?

Kiris' attention flickers briefly to the new-hatched brown, courtesy of Jacinth's happy comment. Then eyes back to the choosing gold.

On the sands, Reine can't say anything. She's speechless. Her other hand drifts to rest at her side as time slows and stretches.
On the sands, Whyria's eyes shift — the gold has stopped, and not in front of her — attention wandering to other parts of the sand. More dragonets have appeared since she last took a survey. Brown, green, bronze; all but the last need to be looked at.
On the sands, Eyes catch, and mark brown's hatching, and that /impending/ hatching - spirals' progress often followed as Muireann tries to watch for gold's choice and follow newborns all at once.

Miranda chews her lower lip, watching and watching and… She becomes lost in the drama below and nudges Brandon a little, "Which? One of those two girls, surely?"

On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg trembles more steadily, washed now with the sands as it turns from side to side—a gentle mist, at first, barely disturbing the shell's dewdrops; but now, a tear, a crack, a beginning.
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet's gaze is sidelong, not encompassing much of anything with membrane still clouding his eyes. He blinks, and moseys his way towards that white-botchy circle.
On the sands, Zipporah dodges a wild-eyed blue hatchling, then jumps back the other way as a green flanks her. She jumps, trying to watch the gold, the brown, the green — the other green.
On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet lowers back, her muzzle not inches from the raven-haired girl's face. Fastly whirling eyes color warmly, her muzzle reaching eer slowly- for what appears to be a kiss, but falls to merely nuzzle the girl's cheek.

Rissira crosses her fingers, and even Moonsong upon she shoulder is silent, awaiting the choice of the golden one upon the sands.

On the sands, Vivid Vine-Gold Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Reine.

Kyla jumps up and lets out a whoop. "Reine!!"

Mystech says, "It's gonna choose Reine!"

Vae's grin is very, very wide.

"Reine," A'var breathes! Marks or no marks, he's delighted and declares stoutly, "I gave that girl my jacket!" Tenor skates the verge of claiming causality for the impression.

Nerine laughs with nervous tension. "Goooo, girl with black hair! Wooohah!"

On the sands, Tasher stares the brown and bronze down with baited breath. He's wavering on his feet, but can't stand still for the heat of the sands. A cheer erupts as he catches Reine's impression! "Go Reine!" so what if she broke his nose.

I bespoke Brigith with: I sense that Katrineth indulges in a taste of your mind, her own scented lavishly with signature amber, with myrrh—and calls it good. «

On the sands, Magellan finds hand slipping from his grip, and he starts, looking there… and face splits again! "Reine!"
On the sands, Reine stammers out, "B-b-b-rigith?"
On the sands, Dustin grins at Reine. "Oh, wow. Way ta go, Reine!"
On the sands, Lilluci stumbles foward to stand next to Fiona, all emnity forgotten.

Rissira finally breathes, "Reine! You did it!" She look about for her fellow Healers, there will be a party tonight!

Amery smiles at A'var and teases lightly, 'Aye? An' look wha' it go' 'er?" Though her wink should ease that.

A'tar smiles, and tries in vain to hear out of his 'Whoop!'ed in ear. "Reine. How unfortunate. I like her."

Lysalla finds she was holding her breath and quickly release it. "Reine..oh wonderful.. but.." She can't help but let her gaze flicker to Fiona. "Still, a beautiful pairing. Rosalth did well."

"Does that make her yours, A'tar?" Jerla wonders. "And did you ever get it back?"

On the sands, Tenacious Mountain-Brown Dragonet rumbles with annoyance as one of his siblings blocks the path to his destiny. The other having been on its own mission, passes quickly, and the burly brown is once again following the call of nature, instinct pulling him towards /the one/.

Jerlana switches A'tar and A'var. Whoops.

On the sands, Fiona's first inclination is to hug and hug tight, but there's that /queen/ staring her down. So she pats Reine's back instead. "Reine, Reine, Reine." Sister. Friend.

Kiris lets out held breath. "Reine!" It's a good match. Eyes touch on Fi, sympathy there. She remembers when Quienth stood beside her and chose L'nya.

On the sands, Muireann grins so broadly her cheeks hurt. "Ohhh Reine!"
On the sands, N'fra blinks, wiping at her face. "I'll go get her," he mentions to Ryka, before stepping over to Reine. "Will you and Brigeth follow me, please?"
On the sands, Arien murmurs, "Brigith." Tastes it, on the tongue. And looks beyond.
On the sands, Zephrene's eyes shine for Reine, too, and her lovely golden mate. "Yes. Reine." It is good.

"Fiona. It has to be." Brandon shows his blind faith in his friend. He reaches out blindly for a hand to hold, "It has to be," he whispers, and then his voice wans… "I guess not," barely audible.

On the sands, Reine takes the briefest of moments to hug Fi back. "Oh, Fi.." And then she releases and allows herself to be led off, still stunned.
On the sands, Toria smiles pleased. Rosalth roars with delight at the pairing.

Brenna jumps up and down. "Reine! Yay!!!" Healer power…or something like that. Hehe.

On the sands, Magellan smilingly turns gaze away from gold and raven haired new lifemate, to again contemplate brown and bronze. He mutters, to remember "Brigith."
On the sands, Varianth is rather pleased, too. Smug? Could ever an expression be etched into a dragon's muzzle—it be there.

Miranda blinks, looking down at the hand that is there. Slowly, she takes it and holds the weaver's hand. "Um… It's okay. It isn't over yet. Right?"

On the sands, Whyria swallows. Hard. With Reine so close, she can't quite repeat the name — instead, she mouths it silently. "Congratulations, Reine." She smiles, wavery.

Mystech smiles at Reine's Impression, a gold…good for her.

On the sands, Fiona backs away, then, small, white, and mothlike, breathes, breathes, breathes. And reaches again for Lilluci's hand, only vaguely remembering all that stuff she's /said/ about the girl. Any port in a storm.
On the sands, Again that cracking from the Snail's Curl Egg, invisibly, darkly; and sounds that bespeak a hatchling dragon, sounds that reveal far more than sight. The taste of talons finding sand; the susurrus of unfolding wings.
On the sands, Simonkely watches everything going on, his face split in two big a wonderful grin.
On the sands, B'nal's wide face, already grinning from a recent bronze pairing he'd had marks on, comes near to splitting as Reine impresses the gold. Byzanth repeats the name for him, and he says it too, "Brigith. Lovely, that one is."
On the sands, Muireann's eyes swivel back to those promising spirals. What, oh what will emerge?
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet arches his crane of a neck, attracted by the excitement; he saunters in that general directionor tries to, occassionally tripping over those gargantuan puppy paws.
On the sands, Arien mutters back to B'nal, slightly more conservatively
but oh, she's smiling—"…Not bad. Not bad at all."
On the sands, Terry stands, and Stands, watching the newly Impressed pair be led off. Gaze returns to eggs, fixing on unhatched eggs with hope expectant.
On the sands, Dustin watches the bronze's slow, tripping progress with a faint smile of artistic appreciation.
On the sands, Tasher stares nearly blank at the bronze and brown, always returning to glance at the one that hatched out of /his/ favorite —he can't help it, it was his favorite after all.
On the sands, N'fra helps Reine away from the others. "She's quite a beauty," she mentions, words falling into more softer tones as she continues to lead.
On the sands, Lilluci clutches back, and blinks back tears.

Brandon claps loudly then. "Way to go, Reine!" Brigith. What a great name. And the healer a great person to mate her.

On the sands, Magellan chuckles, watching the bronze make his way. Every fiber urges to help, to intervene. But alas, everyone must bear borning on their own. He glances at Dustin, then Tasher, wondering if they feel the same.

A'tar laughs at the Weaver, something about his demeanor and clapping striking the elder rider as humorous. "Weaver Brandon! What color best goes with Gold?"

Miranda retrieves her hand before Brandon smashes it between his. She manages a quiet smile before shrinking back into her corner. So far, she has avoided knowledge of all those /riders/ behind and about her. "Come on, Mag. Get it over with… so we can go."

On the sands, Tasher can't think. What's thinking when you're lost in staring? His brain won't work, his mouth is dry and his feet are burning to the depths of his silent soul.
On the sands, Tenacious Mountain-Brown Dragonet arrives at his destination, the muted colors of fall shrouding him, winter bearing down. In the moment of desperation he sends out a call to his chosen, his bugle filling the air with his intent. Once voiced, he buries his muzzle in the belly of the one he's chose, Simonkely.
On the sands, Zipporah bounces impatiently, excitedly, narrating the entire event under her breath.
On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg represses such immodest shudders, but life is life and imminence is imminence—it can't be held off forever.

Brenna grins at the rider. "Apparantly red..for redwort."

On the sands, S'mokey's eyes flood with tears as they fall freely onto his cheeks. His arms wrap lovingly around the stout brown dragonet's head as he voices his own call to the masses, "His name is Bearth!"
On the sands, Zephrene chuckles.
On the sands, On their own, but not alone! Mellow Sundance-Dragonet snuffles a knot of girls *crunch* oops, were those her toes? Doesn't smell quite right.
On the sands, Magellan's eyes alight with glee as brown finds lifemate. He repeats, again committing to memory "S'mokey and Bearth"
On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg tweaks and twitches with a more fervered impatience. A hair-line fracture tickling along its surface.

Brigith tests, tastes. Likes. « Hello. » «

Amery darts a grin back at A'tar, then she turns to the weaver, "Nae. Black. Le's th' gold lean again' it. So th' gold has th' show… an' black don' go'ta do nothin'."

On the sands, Dustin gives Magellan a half-shrugs. Yes, he feels that way, but the bronze must make his own way.
On the sands, Tasher snaps out of his quiet a bit, laughing outright at the little bronze. "Those are girls silly!" —he hasn't much use for them yet either. But, at least he doesn't eat their toes.

Nyssath glimmers, glems, glistens. » Hi! «

Ogreth bespoke all » Welcome. «

Khalith swirls silky shadows about bronzy-gold. «Welcome little one.» «

Firannoth sends a gentle tendril of thought to those who have hatched so far, in greeting. » Welcome «

Katrineth barely brushes, burnished—and yet that's enough, to know. «

Riallath welcomes, mirror-black lightening to silvery mist, «Welcome.» «

Brandon turns, still filled with the joy of the moment. "Why that depends, sir! REd if you're a smith. Green if you're Keroon. Bronze or Brown if you ride." Then with a wink. "Though I think purple and white today, sir. Purple and white."

Miranda takes a breath and ignores the color question as well as she can.

On the sands, Whyria recovers herself, feet digging into the sand and then out again, the burning sensation forcing her attention to focus. "That's.." She's lost track of how many. Not all.

Niabeth lets her voice ooze out softly «Hello! Welcome!» «

Imbrith trickles soft silver welcome. «Hello, little one.» «

Serqueth sloshes back at the babies, gently. They need baths soon. « Hello… »> «

Ysaleth whisks in close with explorationa taste, a feeland out again, gypsy spirit ever wandering in the furor. «

Belisanth sends a wavering thread of greeting, brightly hued, warm colors of welcome. «Hihi!» «

On the sands, Fiona takes a deep breath, holds on to Lilluci's hand, and smiles. Smiles, smiles, smiles. "We'll make it; you'll see," she whispers to her strange sandsfellow.

On the sands, Snail's Curl Egg — or, rather, its golden-umber shards — spills a scattershot path for its fledgling dragon …for then, just then, Katrineth half-furls the burnished canopy of her wing, and the littlest queen finds her way from shadow into light, into crowd, and dares the great, grand world Outside.
On the sands, Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet
On the sands, 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, frail wings; 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 hint of swagger already in her stride.

On the sands, Magellan turns from brown at Tash's call, and chuckles. Good thing, learning that right off the hop. He nods at Dust's shrug, and echoes it.

Sioth quietly touches, feather-tickling younger minds. « Welcome. » «

D'nara goes home.

On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg shudders, twists and rolls. Movements edging towards a heightened motion.

Up on the ledges, Serqueth goes home.

Mystech says, "Another Gold!"

Telilah guesses, "Perhaps for the one missed before?"

Rissira gasps, "Wwww…. what? Two Golds?!"

On the sands, Lullici makes a strangled noise and clutches Fiona's hand in a death grip. "FIIIIIIII!!!! LOOOOOK!!!"
On the sands, Tasher takes a /really/ deep breath. Two golds! Who knew! But, his eyes are turned on the males, he can't impress the gold anyways. A wide grin is flashed at Magellan, but he's all for /staring/ at the hatchlings.
On the sands, Magellan whooshes. Yet another gold. A plethora of shimmering metallic seems to fill the hall. Gold… and bronze, as he returns attention to the youngster. Made for each other.

Amery whistles… then turns a smile to A'var, "Wha'daya know… Two!"

Kyla chuckles, "Gotta love those double clutches..she's adorable."

On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet raises his muzzle, following the track. A trio, there; one pale, one brown, one stocky, all in white.

Vae just gapes. /Again/.

Lysalla glances at Kiris, Amery and A'var, duly amazed. "Another gold!"

On the sands, Muireann gulps. Second gold. Eyes briefly fall on Terry, sharing long glance. Then back to new-born.

Miranda nudges the weaver and points to the little gold, "See? Another one."

I bespoke Miyoth with: I sense that Katrineth brushes your mind, on the more intimate scale: quieter, are you? Oh, for now. For now. «

On the sands, Fiona puts a hand to her ear. "Lil! Geez!" And then at last she looks. Another? anoter queen? She can only stare.

Kiris clutches Lys' hand. "That hidden egg. Oh Kat!" she laughs. Sly queen, to hide her daughter.

On the sands, Terry shrugs and almost steps back. A clue? A clue? Would that those who've puzzled were paying attention.
On the sands, Dustin pokes Magellan as the bronze looks their way. He mutters, "Betcha it passes right by us?"

Nerine blinks. Wow. Two golds? There's a new one. Chewing tentatively on her bottom lip, she leans forward in her seat.

On the sands, Kh'rys blinks idly, nonplussed, then turns pragmatic, "I hope there'll be a couch big enough in the barracks." But— Ryka's duty, not hers, and she can watch.
On the sands, B'nal ohs, and throws an unbearably proud, paternal look at Arien. "Gold. That egg she hid was gold all the time. Gold."

Jerlana sees double and swears off the Benden for a bit.

On the sands, Tasher shivers noticeably as he catches Dustin's comment —fervently hoping that it's not so.
On the sands, Ryka ponders that very question and thwaps her forehead. "Dear Faranth, where am I going to put them all?"

A'var claps, delighted. /Two/. "Noone guessed this — Noone _bet_ on this!" Caervath adds his silent trill.

On the sands, N'fra winces, eyes widening. "Um….eek." She glances over to Kh'rys, merely shrugging before she goes back to looking. My.
On the sands, Kessaly smiles and gazes back up to the ledges, where a smug lifemate perches.
On the sands, Magellan comments from the corner of his mouth "Nahhhhhh." He hopes not, anyways, watching and wondering.

Brenna blinks. "Another one?" Blue eyes peer down and the sands. "Gorgeous!" And shocked.

On the sands, Whyria tenses again, eyes rivetted to gold once more. "Two." There were two. "Shards." Hopefully she'll impress quickly.
On the sands, Arien grins back, suddenly winsome; "We were guessing" a half-nod, to Toria, as Katrineth's croon sees her children to find safe harbor.
On the sands, Reine glances up from rapt contemplation at a shriek, for just a moment. But it's enough. Her eyes widen, and she murmurs something that suspiciously sounds like "Fi".
On the sands, Toria grins and tosses a wink at Arien, mouthing, "I shoulda bet..Shucks.."
On the sands, Dustin grins a bit, pessimism his special for today… that and sarcasm. But he can still hope without seeming to do so.
On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg shimmies, churns and sways ever faster. Cracks ebbing along its surface like a slow flowing river.
On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg suddenly startles, a shrinking
but no, an expanding, as the shell suddenly seems no longer big enough.
On the sands, Fiona just stares, forgiving Lil for everything, just hold my hand, kid, just hold my hand. She draws Lilluci closer to the other groups of candidates, hoping to find somebody strong enough to hold her up.
On the sands, Tasher frowns at Dustin —and his defense mechanisms. He openly hopes, he can do but naught as his face is shining with a expansive hope and eyes staring wider and wider with each new arrival.
On the sands, "Oh…and Ryka. Remember that being a long shot?" N'fra glances over to said gold wandering about, then back to Reine and Brigeth. "You owe me."

Miyoth tests the waters, ust the shallows for now. «Hello.» «

On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonetdoesn't pass; headknobs perk as he regards a pair of white robes, one as ill-fitting as his own paws are to his hatchling frame. Made for each other?
On the sands, Lilluci mumbles apologies to Fiona and tries to remember to keep her chin up and breath, just like her mother told her. SHe lets herself be dragged along, trying not to stumble.
On the sands, Zipporah boggles, and beams, and wriggles tender toes. "There's just so /many/ of them!"

Nyssath dabbles talons in the puddle. » 'Lo! «

On the sands, Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet, having hid the worst of clumsiness beneath dragonwing, finds her feet no more slowly than the other dragonets; not just another, but /herself/. The sinuous neck arches, fanning those neckridges showily, and those scintillant eyes take in the sights, the sounds, the sands that tonight are noisier even than the docks.
On the sands, Muireann offers a hand. Shaking and shivering herself in the turmoil of gold and two ready to burst.
On the sands, Ryka groans, and murmurs back, "I was hoping you'd forget that one. Ri was wrong this time." She sighs, "Ten marks? I suppose that makes us even…"

Kolyath bespoke all » weyr :honks beauty and light. «
Kolyath bespoke all » all I don't know how to do this. Hee. «

Lysalla can barely keep her seat as she stares down the sands.

Mystech watches intently.

On the sands, N'fra nods, whewing softly under her breath. "That was the bet." Wink is given, before she goes back to watching.
On the sands, Magellan can't contain his mirth at the paws. The paws! Heh. A lot to grow into! Shall we grow together? If it is so, let it be so. Hope is the mode on sweat shiney face,

Riallath echoes in basso the honk. «Welcome, little Kolyath.» «

A'var eyes the Istans and crows: "Fort's got two golds, Fort's got two golds."

On the sands, Tasher nervously stares at the bronze. So close is he. So close and still far away.
On the sands, Fiona takes that hand, Muireann. And breathes, breathes, breathes. "Look, look, look."
On the sands, No, it is no longer big enough, even for this shy flower— and Modest Pansy Egg almost …/bounces/?

On the sands, Modest Pansy Egg breaks apart into fragile violet petals — mementoes, a potpourri of sorts, crushed into the sand by the so-pale dragonet struggling determinedly upright.
On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet
On the sands, Varnished to a bright, gleaming ice-blue, this dragonet's all frosted glass and long-limbed marble; dusted with newfallen snow at the extremities of muzzle and paw, that same shade glitters across narrow wings' irregular veins. Long neck and even longer tail hold facets of deeper color as do the ridge of spine and the cruelly curved talons, and pale to the summer's sky of his gaze; as solid and as abrupt as the glacier itself, he moves with a slowness that masks the earthen warmth within.

Katrineth cascades arpeggiated thought throughout the minds; yes, yes, another's found his thoughts. «

Brandon can't hardly stand himself as the second gold hatches. "Fi! Fi! Fi! Fi!" No, he's not shouting FiFi. Suddenly he remembers poor Miranda next to him and sits. "Come on Fi," he says softer. Purple and White.

Jerlana's brows find a meeting place in the middle of her forehead as she looks at A'var. "So?"

Brenna suddenly chuckles, remembering the clutching. She grins at Lysalla. "When they were talking about your twins, I thought they meant twin golds. And whaddya know..there were two after all!" She giggles, still bouncing a bit, eyes sands-ward.

Vae eyes A'var. "Ista /had/ two golds, last time." They were /first/, hah.

Rissira watches, breathless, until a sharp tug on her ear by an exited firelizard reminds her to breathe again. "Oh, my…" she breathes. "Such beauty!"

A'tar considers introducing A'var to the 'Loreli Manouver'

K'vair walks in.

Vae correct, "Time before last." So many eggs—

Kiris holds her breath. "Oh, Fi…" She half-pleads, chewing lower lip with hope for her friend. Poor Lysalla's hand gets squeezed tighter.

On the sands, Muireann nods vigorously, for she can do nothing else. Eyes are wide as barn doors.

Mystech arches a brow at A'var, "I thought you didn't like Golds?"

On the sands, Dustin watches Magellan and the bronze with a hopeful expression. They deserve each other, in his opinion at least.
On the sands, Glance is swung as a blue erupts from it's shell. Is this the one? Will it even come close? Maybe it'll go to the girls?
On the sands, Tasher.

Kyla grins at the little blue, "Not as sparkly as Kadarth, but cute.."

K'vair hurriedly takes a seat on the edge of the galleries, eyeing the events unfolding on the scorching sands below.

On the sands, Lilluci shudders and she rips her gaze from the golden queen to the blue that is emerging.

Lysalla is happy to feel the pressure of Kiris' hand and the kicking of kidlets from within. It seems to ground her to the here and now. "Please..please…Fi and Reine would be a great pair."

On the sands, Whyria finds herself alone — a gap has formed in her area; she makes it wider by drawing closer to Zipporah once more. "They just keep coming," she sighs. "More and more and it's almost dizzying."
On the sands, Lilluci on one side, Muireann on the other, Fi's well-heldbut what's Lilluci doing? "Lil?" she hisses. "What?"
On the sands, Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet is seen; and her wings, well, their tips may trail pale-gold runes in the sands, but still she carries them, herself, with /presence/. Curious presence. Investigative presence. Wide, wide eyes. And slow, slow she is to walk towards the candidates, at first
but not consciously tantalizing, not this early, not yet.
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet plants those paws squarely before the badly-sewn robe, rump not far behind. *thump* Head tilts in a quizzical look, taking in that stubby nose. Will /it/ grow, too?
On the sands, Magellan can't breath, again, dizziness contracts into a single frozen moment as he watches the dragonet before him.

Niabeth touches the small thoughts, «Hihi! You're going to love it here..well my place is warmer..but you can visit when you fly! Even though that's awhile off..but…Hi!» «

A'var lofts his chin. "We were just waiting for the right time," he avers to Vae. And, just barely restraining himself from dancing a jig, he hangs over the railing to whoop shamelessly. Weyrleaders could never whoop.

On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg churns and twists with absolute impatience. Its occupant's impatience all but exploding through the shells.
On the sands, Mellow Sundance-Bronze Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Magellan.
On the sands, Lilluci begins to breathe faster. She clutches at Fiona. "Fiiiii. Loook. That Blue!" Eyes are wide and her face is suddenly flushed.

Lysalla turns, finally seeing Magellan and now his Impression. "Wonderful!"

On the sands, Fiona nods. "Yeah, he's pretty, Lil." But her eyes follow the queen. "Real pretty."

K'vair glances over at A'var, chuckling at the bronzerider's blatant enthusiasm.

Mystech cheers Magellan.

On the sands, Dustin beams at Magellan, too happy to speak.
On the sands, Magellan drops to one knee, a great whoosh of breath releasing, eyes bright and a tear streaming as he calls "He says his name is Ranjith!!"

A'tar visibly restrains himself he does. Hands move of their own accord, shaking from teh effort to restrain them as A'var presents an almost irresistable target. "Urrg!"

On the sands, Zipporah's head is certainly spinning, and she nods to Whyria. "Yes, and they're all so big! And fast! And — look out!" She ducks as a blue tail narrowly swings toward them.
On the sands, Tasher gives Mag a selfless cheer. He had his hopes, but the dragon's always know!

Brenna can forgive Magellan for nabbing her sister away to High Reaches. Even if Cadia /did/ go of free will. "Yay Magellan!"

A'tar does, however, manage to resist. Herculean effort though it may be.

Nerine moves from her lip-chewing to fingernail chewing, and her worriedly pretty face breaks out into a huge grin as the Magellan boy Impresses.

I bespoke Ranjith with: I sense that Katrineth shimmers, burnished, electric; a welcoming, an identifying, and the swiftest of—/tastes/. «

On the sands, N'fra blinks, as another happens, before winking at Ryka. "I'll be back to get my marks." Slip-sliding over to Magellan, she beams. "Can you and Ranjith follow me?"

"Sloshed," surmises Jerla while watching A'var. A tsk follows.

On the sands, Genuine, genuine smile is sent toward Magellan as Muireann pulls eyes from roaming dragonets to one that has found his home. "Oh Mags…"
On the sands, Fiona catches her breath as Magellan Impresses bronze, just in her peripheral vision she sees. "Magellan!"

Kiris grins. The bronze Impressed! Well chosen.

Amery grins at the pairing, though her gaze turns faintly whistful. A shrug… and then she cheers too "Good goin', lad! Knew y' had i' in ye."

On the sands, Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet dares the stares, dares them alla tightrope walk, a straight, sheer flighttowards her choice that she's known for so long, known when her egg's spiral was traced. Slow, slow for now, floating.
On the sands, Magellan nods, and touches bronze hide for the first time, finally able to offer the help he's craved. "Yes! Yes."
On the sands, Ryka grumbles about lost marks and a dragon who cheats. "Aye."

Rissira grins, and cheers, as another dragonet finds it's mate.

On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet abandons those meek shards, himself much strongersolid, firmin body and spirit. Those talons clench the yielding sands as he splinters a gaze into the white fragments of robes; white, the color with all colors possibile.
On the sands, A warm smile comes to Toria as she watches Magellan impress.

Miranda whooshes her breath out and scowls… Then, she takes a long, slow breath and begins rising to her feet. "Well. Luck to you, Mag. Seems you are going to need it."

On the sands, Lilluci's attention is pulled briefly towards the bronze, and a smile tugs at her lips. Eyes flit over the gold, and her stomach lurches. Back again towards the pale pale promise of blue.
On the sands, Tasher turns his attention to the blue. Yes, blue, and just waiting to be stared at by his own blue eyes. Stared at. Appreciated. Is he gawking?
On the sands, N'fra nods, waiting until Magellan is ready. "Well…my, he's a beaut. If you'll follow me?" She wanders off, leading the pair over to the other weyrlings.
On the sands, Magellan follows N'fra, his hand staying attached to bronze. Forever.

Ah, but with clean glasses, Jerlana. Bronzeriders are supposed to be enthusiastic at the arrival of a new Gold. Two is cause for getting well and truly plastered. A'var won't have to go to Ista for a bit of gold dust, now!

On the sands, Th'ea sighs, unconsciously reaching for her own lifemate's touch.
On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Eggnearly jumps off the sands, energy and impatience exploding in one final, fluid motion.

On the sands, Whimsical Pinwheel Egg rocks forward and back, gaining momentum — then /rolls/, its colorful stripes released at last to spin freely, and propels forward until smacking firmly into stone. Which, of course, makes all come undone, and leaves its young occupant blinking dizzily in the sand.
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet
On the sands, Hazy shale, sunlit tawny, autumn's ochre: a landscape's worth of browns camouflage this dragonet's close-kept contours, and lend an illusion of somnolence to canny contemplation. Indistinct are his mottlings, yet smooth as the precision of broad wings' curve and tail's knowledgeable tip; talons touch upon mountain lichen's russet and green, those hues further echoed in the crevices between dust-brown neckridges and emblazoned upon the broad wedge of his brow.

Jerlana seems to have sworn off the stuff anyways, time being. Problem with her eyesight.

Miranda slips behind the weaver and eases around complaining people as she moves toward the stairs. Convinced it is her sack that bothers people, she slips it from her shoulder to carry it before her.

On the sands, Muireann's mouth is as dry as the sands beneath her feet. Which she notices again. Hot. And sways, one foot clasped to the back of other leg to cool it. Lucky for her Terry and Fiona are there.
On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet promises nothing, as yet. And yet— /something/, as he finds steadier footing sooner than many, approaching that diminishing white mass.
On the sands, Dustin smiles at the brown dragonet. Such warm shades. How lovely.
On the sands, B'nal adjusts metal wristbands against the heat, and laughs quietly. "Marmalade in my pockets, and he still impressed."
On the sands, Whyria squeaks, ducking at Zipporah's warning; not really necessary, but — it /felt/ necessary. "I think they're mostly hatched now.." She peers, counting dragonets, counting eggs she can see.
On the sands, Fiona follows gold with silver eyes, possibly conscious that she's tracing the pattern of that spiral with a single finger. Pale as a cloud, she waits.

Miranda darts one, last glance toward Magellan and the bronze. Then, shaking her head, she slips down the stairs. And away?
Miranda makes her way down the tiers towards the exit.

On the sands, Tasher blinks at the new brown. Another male for him to gawk at. Feet shift and lips are licked nervously. Burning, burning…but is it the heat or desire?
On the sands, Lilluci can find no words to speak, and simply stands alone, her hand slipping out of Fiona's to rest limply against her thigh.

A'tar snorts. "Hate to sayit, but that blue may be the best of the bunch."

"Go, Bronze!" Brandon cheers for that Magellan lad, Fi's friend. He loves them all. Eyes go back to Fiona before he twists in his chair toward A'tar. "Purple and White!" he yells. "Fiona's next! A fortnight's pay that she impresses today!" Not that he /has/ the marks.

A'tar considers, "A Fortnights? Tell you what. If she doews, you get the contract for my next outfit."

Glancing at the sands, K'vair picks the most inopportune time to rise and make his way across the crowds of onlookers to settle down next to Jerlana. Hey, he's a Weyrleader. You've got to have some privileges.

(Katrineth, Byzanth, Varianth, and Rosalth) Caervath's thoughts brush like sands through the hourglass, these are the eggs of your loins « Many hatchlings. Many golds! » Caervath is happy. «

On the sands, A few eggs, here and there, a few last dragonets; and so the Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet navigates what in the ocean would be shoals, what in the sky would be gusts, and slowly, slowly—and /swiftly/ she stoops, to pale, and so sinuously brushes with her muzzle the hair that once upon a time that had been red.

"Fi…." Kiris' voice is low, intense with hope as she watches.

Amery notes the girl's exit and hmmms low in her throat. Then, she shrugs and turns to A'var with a silent grin.

Jerlana smiles to K'vair. Interference has arrived.

Lysalla holds her breath purposefully this time. Yes.. Fiona…

On the sands, Webbed Trapdoor Egg is one of those left, crackling silently into only darkness—the autumnal colors have faded, dried up, flaked off.
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet gathers his ground, swirling eyes slow a hint. He blink, focuses and tucks his wings and /then/ he takes a wobbly step.
On the sands, Fiona stands, still and pale, eyes just wide, and oh, yes, breathes. Breathes and stares, stares. Oh, beautiful. "Beautiful."
On the sands, Muireann locks eyes on gold's perusal, clenching Fiona's hand. "Fi… Loooook."

K'vair turns to grin toothily at his second-in-command, murmuring, "The cavalry has arrived. Did I miss anything important?"

On the sands, "Beautiful," Fi repeats. What were the other words? "Beautiful."
On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet tunes in, focuses— silence? Yes, but no.

A'var quickly makes a few surreptitious alterations to the sheaf of papers in his hand and winks at Amery, knee jiggling.

On the sands, Tasher sighs deeply and fixates on first blue and then brown. Gaze lingers on them then flicks to check on the progreess of the second queen.

"Only /that/," gestures Jerla. Look. Like Doublemint gum.

On the sands, Dustin chuckles at the brown's careful movements, the way the dragonet does everything just so, paying no attention to the gold and Fiona.

Nicki has disconnected.

Amery's eyebrow goes up at K'vair's comment. She half smiles, and lets others handle filling in the fellow.

On the sands, Lilluci spares a look to the gleam of gold nearby; a trembling grin at Fiona, erstwhile foe - and she continues to tremble, eyes locked on pale blue.

Rissira waits, seeing the swirl of colors upon the sands, white, gold, brown, blue, bronze, green… the shards of eggs, the glare of the sand. She smiles, watching the selections continue.

On the sands, Terry watches Gold, fascinated. Movement out of the corner of eye turns on blue. Ohhhh. Nice.

Brandon grins at A'tar. "You got it!" And turns just in time to see the gold next to her…

On the sands, Dorina continues to watch and shift. Watch and shift. Eyes make mentalnotes as one Impression after the other occurs, but she does nothing else.
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet raises his head, blinkblinks and near hoots with hunger. And a more demanding need….
On the sands, Webbed Trapdoor Egg finally splits: bronze, soft and …wrinkly? But no, it's just an illusion, and he straightens up to a rather large height at that, all angles and associated clumsiness.
On the sands, Tasher catches sight of Terry and silently ponders that enigma. Is it male or female? —C'mon, impress the queen…just so he can say that it's a girl. Head twists back to the brown, with another glance at the blue.
On the sands, Whyria breathes out. Breathes in, then out. The gold has again removed herself; she can deal with the rest of the hatching now. Blue, brown, egg.
On the sands, Dustin grins at the brown's hoot. Yes, a hoot. He shifts to watch the brown more carefully, liking the way this one acts.

Mystech says, "Another Bronze, this is a wonderful hatching!"

K'vair follows the line of Jerla's finger. "Ahh, a hatching," he murmurs quietly, his eyes following the slow, awkward dance between dragonet and candidates alike. "It's so nice to be at one of these things without having to be involved for a change."

On the sands, Beautiful to particular eyes, perhapsas much as a birth-clumsy fledgling can bebut more to the point, she's daring, and wild enough to take them both a-journeying. And so, at longest last, the dauntless hatchling fully unfurls her damask wings, and veils her lifemate in the truth of it.
On the sands, Dauntless Damask-Gold Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Fiona.

Kiris surges to her feet, whooping wildly. "Fi! Lys, look! Fi!" As if everyone else didn't see the Impression take place.

On the sands, N'fra nudges Ryka. "Just so you know it's not the light, go get her." She ducks from a potential swat, moving away.

Rissira grins, and applauds when the golden hatchling finally makes it clear who she wants.

On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet stops before Lilluci, slightly perplexed, but solidly convinced. /Her/, her core somehow deeper than this silence—he /knows/ it must be so.
On the sands, Dustin spins suddendly and gasps. "Fi!!!" He's in shock. Very definately.
On the sands, Tasher gives another strange yip as Fiona impresses. "Go Fi!" and his silence is broken again. Feet shift.

Nerine has disconnected.

Lysalla struggles to her feet, but joins Kiris and cheers. "Double gold! What a grand pair they are. They /all/ are!"

On the sands, Ryka beams, her heart beats fit to burst her chest as she watches yet another Impression. She swallows past the yet larger lump in her throat and leaves her nest against the wall to walk towards Fiona…and her new beloved. No attention paid to impertinent assistants, to whom she now owes marks. Hmph.
On the sands, Silver and gold, stars and sun, Fiona orbits, dances slowly in an ellipse, and hears the music of the spheres. And that music, that music has a name. Its name is, oh, oh. Fiona stammers as she speaks. "Gyrfath, her name is Gyrfath." Oh, sun and stars, gold and silver.
On the sands, M'gellan watches from the sidelines, and dances in glee, watching bronze tail, of course "Fi! And Gyrfath!"
On the sands, Lilluci shakes, and her eyes close in a silent plea. Eyes open again, and she stares into blue swirls.

I bespoke Gyrfath with: I sense that Katrineth, burnished Katrineth follows your progress to the truest homing. A witness. «

K'vair lets out a low whistle at the sight of the bronze dragonet, nudging Jerla in the ribs none too gently. "He's going to make a fine dragon, I'm sure of it."

On the sands, Whyria grins, slowly, at the gold and her glory in front of Fiona. "Gyrfath." This name she repeats, having caught her stride again. Just a little longer. Blue in front of Lilluci, brown.. where did that brown go?
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonetglances up and studies. Wide, curious filled eyes inspect, study, /seek/ something…./someone/. Perhaps over there?
On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet /knows/. And he claims, to mine those depths for their ultimate reward: /lifemates/.
On the sands, Katrineth croons, soft and long, to the dauntless little one—and the echoes reverberate throughout them all.
On the sands, Inexorable Glacier-Blue Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Lilluci.
On the sands, Dustin shakes his head, as if to clear it, then he sighs. Fi with a gold. Who'd have thought. He grins sheepishly at the brown hatchling, as if the dragonet would respond.

Brandon JUMPS out of his seat. "FI! Yes! Yes! yes! Yes!" Laughing, he turns to A'tar. "That's Fi! She's a /Weaver/" As if the word were sacred. And he turns again. "YES FI!" Purple and white!

Jerlana is nudged. "Bronze," she whuffs. "'Nother one." Shoulda fed the dragons /first/.

A'tar Frowns as he makes some move near his nose. Must've been a vtol.

On the sands, Muireann shivers again. Eyes speak volumes though voice is silent - speechless - as gaze drinks in Fiona and Gyrfath. Smile is silly, perhaps, but delighted.
On the sands, Tasher shudders as the blue makes it's chose. Not many left now. Will he be left out? Will he? —only time will tell after all. Only time. Echo. Echo.

Telilah has disconnected.

A'tar smiles at Brandon's excitement. "So you said. I suppose you win."

On the sands, Reine smiles as Fi gives a name to that music. She was right, after all.
On the sands, Whyria fairly beams. It's nearly the end, she's made it, she hasn't fainted — the brown is still there though. She watches him with the barest hint of impatience.
On the sands, Ryka offers tender congratulations, adulations as she approaches the pair, "Lass? Come with me if you would, please?"
On the sands, L'uci wraps her arms around the tiny blue, as tears stream down her face. Clarion shrillness - they can her her in Lemos - "His name is Diamonth!" And softly, to blue gaze, "And we'll fly in the sky, won't we?"
On the sands, Arien plucks at her pocketanother glance at Toriabut, no, it will wait. There's more. /Oh/, are there ever
On the sands, The trapdoor's yielded bronze sluffs to his feet and out and about, but he's more quick-thinking
if less certain of his decisions—and picks out a boy with promptitude. But once made, the decision is irrevocable, and change is not desired. Neratian lad and Fortian bronze, together.
On the sands, N'fra skips over to L'uci, listening, before shaking her head. She didn't just hear that. Nope. Didn't hear that at all. "L'uci? Come with me?"
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet seeks, searches, /finds/, a small brown mouse hidden within a fall of autumn leaves. Hoot?
On the sands, Toria catches Arien's movement and just grins, ear to ear, grins.
On the sands, Fiona looks up at Ryka. "Huh? Oh…." Bedazzled, bewitched, bothered and bewildered, she steps away.

A'var doesn't let his disgust at seeing Lilluci the whiner impress cloud his kaleidescopic delight at Fiona's impression. Not to mention the profit he's made. Of course not.

Kiris watches the brown with a smile, seeing another brown, a different set of candidates for a moment.

On the sands, Dustin blinks at the brown, wondering who the hoot is for. He watches quietly.
On the sands, Whyria presses lips together. Hoot? Someone ought to hoot back.On the sands, Tasher gets even more anxious as the brown continues to hoot. Feet shift more vigorously. —will he have anything left after this night? —not just his feet either. :)

Amery has disconnected.

On the sands, Muireann's eyes blink at silvery egg yet unhatched, and at brown, still searching. Poor Terry's hand is probably numb by now.
On the sands, L'uci stumbles over to the rest of the new weyrlings, eyes stunned, and Diamonth close at hand as she guides him.
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet spies that sheepish grin draped in weaver touched garb and pounces forth with wide-spread wings of discovery.
On the sands, Zipporah blinks at the brown and then blinks at Whyria, and comes near again to whisper, "L'uci, can you imagine? L'uuuuuuuuciiiiiii." Her voice mimics the other girl's nasal whine.
On the sands, Dustin manages to look stunned. Like a deer caught in headlights, or a mouse under the talons of a raptor. He blinks at the brown.
On the sands, Whyria titters, "Zipp, don't." Really, don't. Can't have candidates rolling on the sands.
On the sands, Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Dragonet's whirling gaze fixes upon Dustin.
On the sands, But two left, only two, a lonesome two— and soon a lonesome one as the left shatters open green. Vibrant, /virulent/, she strikes out towards the unknown.

Mystech says, "The Weaver Hall looks to have been hit rather hard by Impressions."

On the sands, Muireann erupts in a cheer, jumping up and down, nearly dislocating poor Terry's arm. "Dustin!"
On the sands, Dustin sits down. In shock. "Quilath?" He gets even paler than normal. "Oh. My."

I bespoke Quilath with: I sense that Katrineth rumbles, reverberant, thought amid thought at the /finding/— «

Odile has disconnected.

On the sands, So many have come forth, and so few left. Hope begins to die, but Terry keeps chin up. Maybe, maybe!
On the sands, Tasher looks lost, only two left? Only two….
On the sands, L'uci sails right past Zipporah, with a sniff and a toss of her hair. Some things never change.
On the sands, Arien murmurs to no-one, or, yes, a crooning someone—"And he said it out loud."

Amery has connected.

Kiris looks across to the ledges. Meets zircon eyes for a long time, then smiles to Lysalla. "Brown." Happy sigh.

On the sands, Madri rubs her hands together eagerly, and steps back onto the Sands. Smiling down at Dustin and Quilath, "Congratulations! Will you follow me please?"
On the sands, Zipporah, like, /totally/ ignores L'uci.

Lysalla settles back to her seat. "A strong brown at that."

On the sands, Dustin still looks stunned. But he does manage to stand up. And wobble more than Quilath over to the weyrling area.

K'vair murmurs observantly, "Big clutch." Nobody said he had to be profound.

Rattani sighs for her former fosterson —doesn't seem that his dragon is in this clutch.

On the sands, That last eggs wobbles, shakes, and lets indigo blue ease his way out on the sandslast, the last, but not the last Impressed. That eye-hurting green is still about, delighted with all the strangeness where others would be scared. She nears one considered very strangethe worst kind of strange, the unknown, the undecided.

Brandon cheers for the brown, cheers for Fi some more, jumping up and down, cheers for that gangly lad with the torn robe. "GO FORT!" And promptly procedes to crumble into a cheered-out heap at the edge of the railings.

On the sands, As one, Rosalth and Toria breath a healthy sigh. Toria looks over at the stands to see if she can see who is there, while Rosalth looks to the skies.

T'ren sighs as well, glancing at 'Rani somewhat worriedly.

Vae moves, blinks. Her rear is numb. "Ugh."

On the sands, And Katrinethshe dips her head to brush her weyrmate's shoulder, and croons again. This, for now; and the rest, for soon.
On the sands, Terry can't believe it! It comes this way!! Oh my oh my oh my.
On the sands, Tasher just sighs dejectedly. How can he do but naught when there're only two dragons left.
On the sands, Muireann squeezes Terry's hand in acknowledgement and whispers a litany under her breath: "Terryterryterryterryterry!"
On the sands, Indigo blue chooses quickly, that one
that almost—too-old man over there. Hiya. As for the green, well, yes, it's Terry she's investigating. Pity her, but she's fascinated. /Hers/.

Rissira smiles, watching the last of the Impressions happen, glad that it's almost over. Her foots asleep. Ouch.

On the sands, Terry is exultant! "Her name is….. Cloth! Oh, I'm the happiest…"
On the sands, M'gellan's ears perk up…
On the sands, LOTS of people's ears perk up…

Somebody must've nominated Brandon as the head cheerleader, because the entire Fort Hold Contigent takes up that cheer in unison. After all, they had a grand showing early on. Time to be proud, time to be loud. "GO FORT!!!" issues from no small number of people.

On the sands, Tasher groans again and stands still finally, feet burning right into the sands.
On the sands, Terry continues "RIDER ON PERN!!!!"
On the sands, M'gellan stamps. Argh.
On the sands, Reine groans softly.
On the sands, Dustin wraps an arm about Quilath, lovely Quilath and stares at Terry. It /Impressed/?

Mystech smiles, happy for all those who Impressed.

Vae tries to stand. Ends up extending a hand to Kyla— help? "Stuck." Numb.

On the sands, L'uci blinks in surprise. But what /is/ it? The Terry Thing?

Tevar has disconnected.

On the sands, M'gellan mutters, shaking his head. "We still don't know. Green. We still don't know." He'd sob if not for the bronze lug he embraces.

Kyla glances back down at Vae and tugs on the hand, "Come on Vae…up ya go."

On the sands, Zipporah's ears perk down, just to be different, but at least Terry gets a wobbly smile.
On the sands, Patting Terry's back gently, Muireann offers up a smile, warm, and shared with Cloth on the side. "Terry. You did it." A talent for stating the obvious, has our Muireann.

Amery glances about the sands and turns to A'var, "Got ye, lad. Twere a blue."

On the sands, Toria shoots a smile to Whryia, Dustin, and Muireann.
On the sands, T'rry turns from Cloth long enough to cast a thankful glance at Muireann before the pair is led aside.

Up she comes, with much wiggling and groaning. "I can't /feel/ it, Kyla.." Vae waves some completely well-meaning pinchers aside. "Shoo, /shoo/. Grr."

On the sands, Whyria mutters as an aside to Zipporah, "Maybe they'll find out, sharing barracks and all with uh.. Cloth and her lifemate." Yeah.

A'var blinks at Amery, frankly sceptical. "On your say so? Where?"

Tyrena has disconnected.

Kyla smirks but wisely refrains from commenting, "Ah, yes..well.." Ahem.. "Are you and Nessie going to head home? Or stay and visit?" Someone in a

On the sands, Rosalth ambles out onto the sands where there is no one and only broken shards. She tests her wings.

Amery's eyebrow rises slightly and her hands move to rest at her hips, "Ye di'nae /see/, A'var?"

Lysalla rises from her seat and heads for the stairs, hoping to get a closer look at the newly impressed pairs.

Narimeth bugles a congratulatory bugle to all the new little baby dragons. «

On the sands, Alone now, Muireann approaches Tasher to offer a consoling hand.

On the sands, And to allor mosta good night; or, at least, good wine. Arien finds herself a smile: the Impressions are done.

Message 61 of 64 on *Announcements (#6560):
Date: Fri Sep 26 17:24:01 1997 PDT
From: B'nal (#10659)
To: *Announcements (#6560)
Subject: Fort's Hatching

Double the pleasure, double the fun. Fort Weyr's double-clutch of eggs hatched
in doubletime, with the following results:

Zephre (IH Resident) /Streamlined Sea-Green Miyoth/Dandelion Weed Egg [KB]
Op's (NPC) /Smoky Island-Blue Maveth/Leaky Hose Egg [KB]
Gr'ym (IH Resident) /Roguish Saltillo-Bronze Kolyath/Curried Eggplant Egg [RV]
M'wy (NPC) /Vigorous Twice-Green Katzeth /Tomato-Horde Egg [KB]
Reine (Sr. J'man Healer) /Vivid Vine-Gold Brigith/Dusky Sunflower Egg [RV]
M'gellan (Trader) /Mellow Sundance-Bronze Ranjith/Half-Baked Potato Egg [KB]
S'mokey (NPC) /Tenacious Mountain-Brown Bearth /Bloomin' Lilac Egg [KB]
Fiona (Weaver Sr. App.) /Dauntless Damask-Gold Gyrfath/Snail's Curl Egg [KB]
L'uci (NPC) /Inexorable Glacier-Blue Diamonth/Modest Pansy Egg [KB]
D'stin (Weaver App.) /Quizzical Wilderness-Brown Quilath/Whimsical Pinwheel
Egg [RV]
T'rry (NPC) /Afterthought Nebulous-Green Cloth/Indeterminate Indigo Egg [RV]

KB, for Katrineth/Byzanth; and RV, for Rosalth/Varianth

To everyone who participated—thank you, thank you, thank you.

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