====October 17, 2013
====A Whole Crowd of Folks!
====Dhiammarath's & Vossuth's Eggs Hatch! (Galleries View)

Who A Whole Crowd of Folks!
What Dhiammarath's & Vossuth's Eggs Hatch!
When There are 0 turns, 11 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
Where Galleries, Southern Weyr

Gid04.jpg hannah_default.jpg Tas15.jpg 7dressedup.jpg marion1.jpg John_Leguizamo_019.jpg


Stone benches rise, black and showing the lack of polish from a thousand seats — by the look of it, these have not been used in… forever, if ever indeed.
Type 'help here' for info on how to view objects on the sands.
Below, you see a brown dragon.
On the perch are Mirmirsor, Chimaera, Prickler, Finian, Fiwa, and Valdi.
Obvious exits:
Ledges Stairs

-- On Pern --
It is sunset
It is 5:51 PM where you are.
There are 0 turns, 11 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
It is Summer and 105 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

** Hannah just set the @party! Type @party to check it out! **

Beneath the eerie glow of Belior and Timor, diffuse by the thick fog that shrouds Southern Weyr, the dragons have begun the timeless hum of the ages: Dhiammarath's and Vossuth's eggs have started to move. As Candidates are rushed out onto the sands, the fog encloses giving an eerie feel to the wind-haunted sands. Glow-light provides diffuse lighting for those who choose to come and watch. (@go sw, ub, hs, gal)
— entered by Hannah on 2013-10-17 18:04 MOO Time. (3 seconds)

Wait, was that the humming of dozes of eggs! Yes, yes it was! And it doesn't take long for the rabid squirrel of a blueriding wingleader to come bouncing of up the stairs. "Babies! Babies! Babies!" Is giggled happily with each dancing footfall. Nika draws herself up to the rail, squints down at all the rockin' and rollin' eggs and then bounces back to the stands to find a seat, close enough that a tiny person doesn't have to try and look over too many heads. She isn't really paying attention to anyone who is next to her, she just grabs whoever the guy is and in a high pitched voice squeals "Babies!"

BAM: Jesha has arrived, for once looking on point in a pin-striped suit that matches her elaborate cane. Nika's the first thing she comes across and she joins the bluerider at the railing. "RIGHT? BABIES!" Point.

Tuli is here as an Official Personage, wearing the Igen colors and representin' the Igen way. (So she's going to stab like twenty people and be incompetent, presumably.) At any rate: don't mind her, she's over there with a pack of ranking types, looking simultaneously excited (Hatching!) and bored (rankers!)

The word that it would be soon was sent to the other weyrs a few days ago, so it doesn't take long for the Igen Weyrleader to appear at the top of the galleries, the noise of his football dampened by the humming of eggs and the excitement in the stands. In contrast to Nika he's a stoic presence. Stopping only to offer a hand to Corelle as the woman finishes her climb. "Good looking clutch." In his first visit to the traitor weyr, he'll maintain some semblence of neutrality. For now. "A seat over there?" He asks to the woman on his arm and then makes his way to some empty seats.

Contrary to popular assumption about her general shyness and tendency to avoid crowds, the dolphineer Mienta is actually in attendance for the hatching. Also miraculous: she isn't late and wasn't distracted by work! She is instead bedecked in as much simple jewelry as she could get away with wearing all at once and settling in with some other crafters for a good view.

Zeyta is NOT one of those ranking looking types, yet she's enforced her presence upon them nonetheless. She wears as severe a countenance as ever, all official, all politically inclined, all don't-talk-too-me-for-too-long-or-I'll-claw-your-eyes-out. She flanks around Tuli every NOW and then, but she also mills somewhat, lest she linger around some stiff moron long enough to provoke her ire.

Aaron had happened to be close to the hatching cavern working on /something/ when that distinct humming started, and had made his way into the stands to get himself a decent seat. Sorry, late arrivals, but the huge smith is blocking a goodly portion of the view. Suckas. When Nika latches onto him, he just laughs and reaches over with his other hand to gently pry her off. "Yes Nika, babies. That's what comes from eggs." ;)

As reluctant to join a crowd as Mienta is Mailli can be said to be the equal opposite. She's seated where she can have a good view, and when she spots her friend she waves vigorously, "Mienta!" is called just in case the freakish height of the woman isn't enough of a give away to where she is seated.

Arianne hops up the stairs, apparently full of energy despite the middle-of-the-night hatching. "Nikaaaaaaa. Baby dragons!" That's as articulate as she gets at this house. And, her butt plops onto a bench.

From the sands below, Sytin walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Yulena walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Maosa walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Daycen walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Kapia walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Cerise walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Taralde walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Kultir walks in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Ellen traipses in from the Candidate Barracks.
From the sands below, Bailey ambles in from the Hatching Caverns Entrance.

When Andi arrives, her hair's a complete mess but the rest of her at least seems put together, and she's twisting and dancing and squeezing around crowds to try to get a place to sit. There's a bit of a bounce to her step that is echoed in Vedoriath, for anyone unfortunate enough to be close by for the very large brown's humming: he seriously knows how to shake a place. The brownrider still doesn't have that many she calls 'friends', though she's certainly chatty enough to everyone and especially to her wing — so it's not that she's aiming to sit near anyone in particular. She's just aiming for as close to the front as possible. Good view, please, and sorry if she shoves past you!

From the sands below, Dimitri has been summoned by Bailey via the RP Invite command!

From the sands below, Donner has been summoned by Sytin via the RP Invite command!

Kalea attempts to smooth windswept hair as she waddles down from the ledges above. The farther she gets from her lifemate the less she can filter Ryadranth's warbling from all the other humming coming from above. Well save for the echoing thrum in the back of her mind anyway. She heaves a sigh and looks about for a decent spot to sit and watch the events unfold. A nervous shudder running through her for the Candidates emerging below.

Enter one Igenite glad to be out of the winter cold and the desert air - Kyara makes an unobtrusive entrance to Southern's galleries, looking fit for the weather and yet formal in a flowing skirt of Igen gold and a sleeveless white top that still bears her knot. Simple, yet elegant, as is her way. Spying a few familiar faces, she offers Tuli a salute as she goes by, then quietly takes a seat. Aaron gets a wave - one local familiar face! - before she's surveying the clutch…and then looking to where the first flicker of white heralds the arrival of the Candidates.

Katarina walks in an seats hersel next to Aaron, a wide smile on her face. "IM praying for Yulie." She says.

<All> Dhiammarath senses that Dhiammarath is the light and the zen, but even her serenity is disturbed by the ripples in the water: ripples caused, no doubt, by the incredible number of dragon-songs lifted in humming symphony: that is right. Southern Weyr's latest clutch is hatching — or about to — and Dhiammarath's song fills the fog-borne night with rumbling triumph!

Because it's fashionable to do, Sadaiya's here as well. Y'know, FIELD TRIIIIP! She's quiet, though, finding her seat quickly next to Zeyta (since she can get away with it and not be bitten) and smiling at her fellows.

"Yah, and tummies." Nika points deligently to her own stomach which will never produce a child, with a giggle. "Well girl's anyway." Peering around the giant arm next to her she gives Aaron's stomach a good hard look and shakes her head slowly. "Nope. You can't." But then Arianne is there and she squeals all over again to fall into giggles. Her wingsecond totally gets her. "Who wants to bet on first color out? I say blue." Cause blue is the best, if Nika was really betting she'd bet on ALL blue dragons.

N'thu, at least, is appreciating Zeyta's presence; he's glad to have someone around the mill of rankers — which he is at the outside of, not being Weyrleader or Weyrlingmaster or goldrider, but still in — who isn't particularly inclined to talk, as at moments like these he's not. Hatching parties are social events. Hatchings are things you watch other people enjoy, and cheer for your friends — of which he has exactly one on these here sands, and so when he looks out it's Yulena he's hunting for. Sadaiya is, of course, not quiet, but she gets a smile instead of a grimace anyway.

Not official but not entirely unofficial either: Teya wears Igen's colors with pride, there in the loops and coils of her wingleader's knot but her authority is limited by such. She is also not alone, and in high enough spirits that it wears even that authority thin; flanked by greenrider-brother and orbited by a half-handful of other extraneous assorted relatives, she forgoes salutes for the sake of waves in most cases, and focuses on getting good seats. Because good seats.

"Oh, me. Me! I'll bet. I say a brown breaks shell first." Arianne announces, because obviously browns are -awesome-. And she winks at her wingleader. Yep, she gets her. Plus, it's all so FUN.

Ayla wiggles into the galleries like the sexy thang she is. She spots a familiar face amongst thethrong. She walks up behind Jesha, claps her hands over the woman's yes and giggles. "guess who Jesh?"

From the sands below, The first upon the sands — Hannah must have had a little bit of a head start — the goldrider is already standing with Dhiammarath, one hand touching the gold's hide in a pale dress. Eagerly, she awaits the Candidates being lead in by the newest AWLM, L'ri. All around them, the forty-two eggs have begun to move, shifting in the sands as cracks form across the pretty shells swirled with color. As the fog creeps in, it hangs low upon the heated black-and-white sands. They all await the Candidates.

Aaron grins back at Kyara and returns the wave, mild, but happy, surprise clear on his face. Katarina gets a brief hug as she settles down beside him, and he smiles at the brownrider. "Aye, you and me both. She'll be alright though, I think." Nika, as she examines his stomach, gets a laugh. "I'll put a mark on a brown being the first," he says with a nod to Arianne.

From the sands below, L'ri walks in from the Candidate Barracks.

From the sands below, Escorted by the Weyrlingmaster a sea of white moves onto the sands like a wave onto the beach, the huddled mass in varying states of alertness from their unceremonious arousal from dream's embrace. They fan out into a loose formation before the eggs and the magnificent dam and illustrious sire, bowing with varying degrees of flourish and respect for the dragons and their riders before attention is diverted back to the large clutch as it begins to stir, like a beast awakened from its slumber, intent on terrorizing the night with its ire.

Tilla takes a seat somewhere around where Nika, Jesha and Aaron are sitting. Displaying her now green and black knot proudly, she has on a dress that somewhat matches. But hey, the more green the better, in her opinion anyway! "I'm rooting for Ellen…and everyone, really!" She comments to anyone in earshot. "I can't believe that we're having our first hatching here..already!" Where did the time go. Over to Aaron, "I feel more like a bronze. I guess we'll see?" Grin.

From the sands below, Stealing the Tsar's Apples Egg shifts, cracks forming early as it separates from the careful lines in the sands. Eager, it is.

"AYLA! Babies! Ooh, I like th'cut of your gib, Arianne. Sorry, Nika 'cause browns are pretty awesome. Didja know Sev fathered a half dozen clutches?" Jesha scoots over, allowing Ayla into the coffee clutch forming around the railing, cooing over eggs and the thought of tiny dragons. "Oh man what *I* love is the lil' dragon claws. They're all tiny and stuff an' yeah pointy as shit but they're so SMALL!"

I'yn, alongside Teya, was at one point holding a young child — a cousin, surely — who quickly makes an escape for some other kids the second the greenrider is able to put him down. "I wish," is the first thing out of his mouth, though at least he says something at all, "that there had been a gold egg, just because I would so love to see Weyrwoman Ellen."

From the sands below, Kapia looks utterly, completely panicked. She hides behind taller candidates as she files out onto the sands, visibly shaking as she drops into a deep, respectful bow to the clutch parents. With tradition appeased, her eyes lock on the shaking eggs. She's entirely terrified.

From the sands below, A Hut on Chicken Legs Egg shudders, rolling a little bit.

From the sands below, Stealing the Tsar's Apples Egg quivers with such force, the sands beneath it's rounded shape being shifted away more and more as a small hole starts to form. If this action continues, the egg might go quite deep, but luckily a loud CRACK stops the vibrating movement. Instead, now one giant jagged, gaping crevice in the shell. Smaller spider-webbed cracks extend from the bigger one, hunks of egg falling one after another onto the ground. Flashes of hide, rust in hue, belay what lays beyond the covering. One final loud SNAP and the shell falls away, leaving In The Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet out on the sands and already fanning his wings and ready to roll!

From the sands below, In the Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet
From the sands below, A strange collection of metal-worked parts, from the oxidized rust of his bronze hide to the prominence of bones, he is not lightly built with visible joints as thick as support beams; his muscle is etched hard through his stout neck and over the breadth of wide shoulders. His great barrel of a chest only adds to his bulk, disproportionate to the spindly rebar legs and the long, stiff line of his tail. Oxidized bronze limns the corrugated metallic feel of wings, as hints of olive trace vine-like patterns across the sails, to finally tinting spars in the vibrancy of tarnished green. Weathered in appearance, a pale, snow-like dusting on spiked neckridges bleeds in darkened streaks down the mottled ruddy ochre on his sides. Polluted shadows collect on the underbelly, and gather beneath his wings, while an illusion of ashy grit traces along the tops of wing bones and collect in the knobby knuckles of his feet. A trickster at heart, the keen intelligence and secretive amusement can be seen in the deep-set eyes and the cant of sturdy beak of a sloped and elongated snout.

From the sands below, Touch Not The Cat Egg shifts and wiggles, and then settles again. Not time yet. Not quite yet.

W'rin is grumbling about something or other, only it is relatively low on the grumble scale of things. He's in a good mood. "Weyrleader." Is grunted at some other weyrleader who passes by, only the man doesn't look like he wants to stop, and the Igenite seems glad at least for that. Here to watch the hatching after all.

From the sands below, Cerise has grabbed one of Dimitri's hands with hers to remain linked with her brother as they face these sands for the second time. Admittedly, the ambiance on this occasion is somewhat different but who can tell if that's nervous sweat or hot sands sweat? With her free hand, she's knuckling at her eyes to clear them of sleep goobers- a process that not only makes it necessary that Dimitri take the lead, but also means she misses seeing the first hatchling break free of its shell!

Kalea finds herself a seat among the throngs of people and attempts to smooth her tunic over her belly. From here she has a perfect view of the eggs on the sands. Well save for the folks squeezing by her to get to other seats anyhow. She is careful to sit herself down in front of Aaron's big bulk. Though she spares the smith a smile. She turns 'round and focuses on the happenings below. Her eyes seeking and finally finding the Candidates she knows. A slow grin spreads across her face once the small group of friends is spotted.

Ayla giggles and moves in next to Jesha. "No to metion the dragon baby nonsense in your head. Jhakk was adorable." She smiles and waves to the others. "Wow…That's a heck of a clutch down there!"

From the sands below, Maosa has an expression of determined stoicism on her face, just the faintest razor's edge of wariness underlying it. Without explicitly doing it, she edges a little Yulenawards as the first egg cracks shell. Hello. Be her Sands buddy. (Not that she needs anyone, of course not.)

From the sands below, Sytin ruffles his hair as he yawns, feeling a little too sleepy to really properly process that this is REALLY happening and that it isn't a dream. The black and purple look sort of works for him, though. And then the egg shatters and he jumps, blinking sleepy amber eyes. "Oh." Eyes widen as adrenaline finally kicks in. "Oh, Faranth." He looks around through the sea of white for a friend suddenly. And then… That bronze. Eyes peer. "It's gooey." How observant, little detective.

From the sands below, Deep breath. Deep breath. Yulena is taking deep breaths, hands slowly wiping on her robe. The surprise of the first egg shattering so quickly earns the bronze coming for a surprised look, and a nod. Good show. One of Yulena's hands absently wanders to find one to hold. In case the other person is nervous. Oh hai, Maosa.

From the sands below, Donner is in the middle of the pack, probably near the hottest of girls in the candidate class, because well, do you expect anything else? Probably behind Cerise, to the left of Yulena. Somewhere in there. "Oh geese—" that's all he gets in word wise when the first egg hatches. He flinches automatically, hand reaching out for someone to grab it, hand out in front of him to shield from… uh, something? Someone take that hand. Donner is scuuurd.

From the sands below, Kultir rises from his bow and draws a deep steadying breath, moving away from the crowd just as the first breaks shell. A lovely bronze, a good omen. The young man shivers despite the heat of the sands seeping upward, the ghostlike mist softening all the edges and making things a bit … spooky no matter how familiar the surroundings.

From the sands below, Taralde walks in the middle of the pack to stand amidst the Candidate. His stomach is tight with nervous excitement, worry, thrill… everything. All now. He's totally overwhelmed, but stands, quietly as the first egg cracks.

From the sands below, Daycen watches those eggs wiggling and rocking with a wary expression after they've all straightened from their bowing. Nope, he doesn't trust the sneaky little bastards inside those shells. And when the first one spills out he edges closer to some of the other candidates. "Bets on how long till someone gets bloody?" he mutters, out the side of his mouth.

From the sands below, In The Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet tucks his wings to his side, once he's shaken off enough of the egg goo that was weighing him down a little. With that taken care of, the little bronze starts… going nowhere. No really, he doesn't move his feet. At all. Instead his muzzle goes down, into the sands, sniffling and snuffling about the tiny granules, moving bits of his former shell around before becoming entranced with an egg near him, in the middle of hatching. This is totally a wise usage of his time!

From the sands below, A Hut on Chicken Legs Egg shudders with an exorbitant amount of energy. Since the beginning of the hatching, this is one ovoid that has not stopped moving. It started with little shimmies, transitioned into bigger shakes, and hopped up into complete chaos. In one moment there is a whole, hale egg, in the next the shell is obliterated, small shards raining down on Conquering the Mountain Green Dragonet as she stands, fully exposed on the hatching grounds! Little wings are unfurled and that first movement is taken, only for the green dragonet to gracelessly stumble on some of her egg's remains. Balance restored after a few uneasy, wobbly steps, and off she trots, to her destiny!

From the sands below, Conquering the Mountain Green Dragonet
From the sands below, Huge and gnarled, this green dragon seems to tower over all she surveys, and yet she's no longer than the average dragon of her colour. It may have something to do with her build, lean and twisted, bending as easily as a tunnelsnake in the grass. It could be her limbs, longer than a dragon of her length should possess, all knobby kneed and oddly angled. Perhaps it's her wings, though the span is about right for her overall size, the sails cover more area than expected. In colouring, she's fairly drab, a greyish green over her body, with a pale mossy green seeping up from her toes. Wings are a rich canopy of leafy green, some segments of the sails more transparent than others, lending her shadow a dappled effect when her wings are outspread.

From the sands below, "Wowzers," is Ellen's… possibly out of place nonchalance, her invi-brows hiking up, "Bronze a'ready. There's luck in that." She doesn't really have a belt to hang her thumbs off, so she's propped her hands against the small of her back like it pains her, strolling along in front of Cerise and Dimitri like she'll lead them to … somewhere. Nevermind how twitchy-tense her legs are, knees warily bent for impromptu pivoting.

Tuli whistles, impressed. Certain traditions die hard, even for a determined progressive thinker, and: "Bronze first! That's a good omen!"

"Cerise! Dimitri! Ceris! Dimitri!" Nika's little chant has gone from dragon babies to her friends. The sheer excitement taking over as her arms latch on to Jesha like a spider-monkey (or Pernese equivalent), and squeezing as tight as she can. "They are my frrrrriiiiieeeennnndddssss."

From the sands below, Dimitri wanders along with his group in the same way a student might walk into their last class of the day after having just taken a nap. That last part might be more true than the former. His grasp on his Cerise's hand is loose, but enough to lead the way. And, perhaps more importantly, lead her into a deep bow that somehow doesn't appear to wake him up any more from his sleepiness. His attention is squarely on other candidates, rather than the eggs. Though… maybe just one peek. Every now and then.

Aaron looks over at Tilla right after the first hatchling breaks shell, sighs, and fishes a mark out of his pocket, offering it to her with a grin. "Your winnings, m'lady!"

From the sands below, Touch Not The Cat Egg trembles under the weight of the creature within, and settles again. What a tease.

Kyara has a pretty good seat, and there's even some space next to her. Looking up, she catches a glimpse of Teya and I'yn and waves - space here, guys! - but is quickly distracted back to watching the first shell break, whooping a little with some others when a bronze is first out. And then she's just watching the craziness. Maybe getting a little misty about it. It just doesn't feel like this was so long ago for her!

From the sands below, Conquering the Mountain Green Dragonet does not bother with that 'walking' thing. That earlier trot turns into more of a jogging run, passing by the other eggs as well as any clutchsiblings of hers that may be lingering around. As she begins to run faster and faster, the green dragonet seemingly forgets what she is supposed to be doing. Enjoying, instead, her sudden need for speed! Zipping around on the sands, running straight, before doing an abrupt turn and going right back to where she started.

From the sands below, Kapia's gaze locks on the first green to emerge, a little gasp of surprise and marveling escaping her. "Wow… she's beautiful, isn't she?" She all but whispers to her fellow candidates.

Bronze first. Does W'rin look irritated. Maybe just a little. But who can tell from his normal state?

N'thu might be able to, but he doesn't comment on it.

From the sands below, Yulena is much more distracted by the green who comes out next, eyeing her curiously. The bronze, however… huh. What is he doing out there? And the green. What on… Yulena's face reflects surprise and utter bemusement.

From the sands below, Maosa isn't so much holding Yulena's hand as allowing Yulena to hold hers, of course. Never you mind the tight squeeze of jungle-rough fingers. She's watching the dragonets take their first steps with wide-eyed fascination, but the cautious bounce of feet has 'ready to make a break for it if need be' written all over it.

Tilla sees the egg hatching and jawdrops, doubled over with laughter towards Aaron, "Oh..my..faranth.." she gasps out. "I'm usually so bad at predicting these things!" Swiping the mark, "But I'll get us both something lovely to drink after, my friend." Grin. "OHH YES. GO GREEN!" she shouts out, standing and pointing. GREEEN. Yes, she's biased. Dur.

Tasena is not among the very first up to the galleries, but with good reason. She's less here to watch the eggs hatch, but more to fill people's cups. She has two messenger type bags slung across her chest from either shoulder, and a stack of ceramic cups hanging from a mesh bag at her waist. "Wine, here! Nothing fancy, but wet your whistle while we wait! Tangy red or chilled white, viewer's choice." She stops to hand out a cup to someone, murmuring quietly about prices before she fills the cup with a wineskin of golden white wine.

From the sands below, Daycen squints. "Are they supposed to be doing that? That looks dangerous." He doesn't even gesture, but he IS obviously staring at zippy the hulking green wonder out there.

"Baw, seriously? Givin' money to Tilla, how's that nat'chral in this situation." Grumble mutter grumblecakes as Jesha fishes in her pocket and flicks a mark piece at the greenrider with a overdone grimace. "Looks like you won THIS one, kiddo."

From the sands below, Oh hey dragons. Cerise drops her hand and blinks rapidly upon discovering a bronze lollygagger and an all too energetic green. "…wuh," is her sole remark. The crowd ignored- witnesses forgotten- she reaches out with her other hand and without thinking, takes Donner's. Any port in a storm, right? Plus, between Donner, Ellen and Dimitri, she's acquired something of a human shield.

From the sands below, Kultir wipes damp palms down his sides as he hangs back just a little, hesitant to get into the way of any of these dragonets. He may be used to the dragons … these hatchlings are another creature altogether, unpredictable and possibly dangerous. Amber eyes flit from bronze to green and back again to linger as he absorbs how such a small thing can grow to such a huge creature in a turn or so.

From the sands below, Sytin shuffles, the heat of his feet making him suddenly aware of his poorly shod soles. Thick wherhide or no, the sands are sharding hot! Hands look for something to do, first crossing over his chest and then moving to clench fists at his side. Kultir is spied and offered a faint smile before his eyes drift back to the newly exposed green. Sleepiness is certainly starting to wear off as reality is rapidly setting into his foggy brain.

From the sands below, Hannah leans into Dhiammarath as suddenly all of everything is happening at once. Eggs are shattering, dragonets are on the sands, the awlms getting ready to shepherd the new weyrlings — and where is the clutch father? In the thick of things? The galleries are glanced to, but let's face it, the action is all on the sands.

"Bronze first," Teya asides to I'yn, but she manages to keep it mostly-neutral as she deftly oversteps another-cousin and secures their (nominally) good vantage point. "I'll admit I'm relieved there isn't, for the same reason." Someone's still a little new-goldrider-shy, even given their current survival rates.

The other dolphineer's height at least certainly makes it easy for Mienta to both a) migrate and b) actually see well — it's easier to get a good view when you're with someone who is tall but not so discourteous as to block others. If she sits right in front of Mailli — yes, perfect. "Thank you," the journeyman says softly, "for conveniently saving me a seat, even if you had not meant to." The Crom accent might still get a couple sidelong looks, but she carries it with aplomb.

From the sands below, Taralde moves up to stand by Kultir. His eyes intent on the shuffling, shifting eggs and the dragonets taking their first steps. His eyes are wide with wonder and, though he's seen hatchings before, this is … different. The garroulous lad is speechless. He catches Kultir's eye and gives him a What are we in for? look, an uncertain grin on his face.

From the sands below, "Uh." Sweaty is the palm Cerise grabs, and if Donner were of any right state of mind other than panic, he'd be keeping a shit-eating grin right about now. But instead, he passes Cerise the most timid, panicked of looks. He's not thinking about boobs or babes right now. Right now he's in survival mode. "I really hope they're well adjusted things—" he mutters with a nod towards that very fast green and the metallic bronze. "If we don't move, maybe they can't see us."

Kalea is thrilled by the hatching of a bronze out of the first egg. She finds herself leaning forward in her seat when a little green is next. "Oh I do so love hatchings." The excitement has her enraptured with the happenings below her. Watching the scene unfold. She has no care for the betting. But she does glance behind her at the winner to spare a quick smile. If her belly weren't in the way she'd pull her legs up and hold onto them. Alas that isn't an option. So she's left to twist her fingers together while she eyes the hatchlings.

From the sands below, Touch Not The Cat Egg gives many a vigorous shakes and shimmies. Leaving the sands time and time again as it hop, hop, hops in an attempt to release the dragonet inside. Though it might be slow going, every time the egg gets some air and comes back to the ground cracks form more and more. All the while getting larger and larger. Pieces of shell start to flick off, littering upon the hatching grounds. Finally there is one last mighty hop, some serious air is caught, before egg comes crashing down and everything shatters! Hunks of shell go this way and that, leaving only a decent sized shard laying perfectly on top of the head of Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet. With his dainty hat sitting pretty on his person, the brown dragonet moves away from the remains of his confinement and towards the sea of white-robed figures. surely one of them will appreciate his sense of style!

From the sands below, Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet
From the sands below, Rich walnut glosses over hale hide, burled darker in the rugged valleys between felt-soft ridges and whorled along the hard curve of muscle. From headknobs to haunches is laced the wet rings of a night well spent, copper dawn catching in the moist-latticed dappling. Cognac spills in a warmer splash down the brusque set of powerful limbs, pooling into the loamy earth that's tracked upon his overlarge paws. The thrown-open vest of his wings is chandelier-lit, golden glow gleaming amber-bright through sails pulled taught as bowstrings by the wine-stained knuckles of wingspars. Confidence refines the humble planes of his face, the blunt bulk of his snout carried high. Klahbark is dusted across the knowing arch of eyeridges and smudges, too, along the restless twist-curl of an eloquent tail.

E'pha cracks his neck side to side, with audible pops, to try and stretch the life into him as he situates himself down amongst W'rin's row: a trim, dark-haired buffer between his Weyrleader and others? Perhaps. Or else he just wanted to sit somewhere slightly quieter than the chattering ahead. With a softer grunt, he grabs either edge of his jacket and tugs them hard towards center, bundling himself up as his posture slips. Hatchings, things, bwawk bwawk beak.

It is Arianne's turn to get a pint sized beating from Nika's fist, "Brown! Brown. Look just like you wanted. Blues' still the best course, but brown is alright." She giggles at her wingseond, as long as it isn't any of the smelly bronzes right?

"What was first at Talicanitath's?" Andi is not asking that of anyone in particular, so much as aloud and hoping someone nearby will catch her question and answer it — that is, until she is completely distracted by Tasena. "Ooh!" chirps the young brownrider as the lady with the wine goes by. "Tangy sounds lovely, how much do I owe you!" It's more an exclamation than a question, to be sure.

From the sands below, Yulena is okay with letting Maosa wrangle the blood and life out of her hand, it's cool. Cerise's remark just happens at a quiet enough time that Yulena hears and looks over: "You'll be fine, Cerise." Reassuring, right? Maybe not with that little wobble at the end of Cerise's name. The shattering of the creepy-eyed egg gets a fascinated look from this ex-cook. A little squeeze of Maosa's hand. If her own is still attached.

From the sands below, Kultir grins back at Sytin and feels just a bit better before he catches sight of Taralde sidling up nearby. That same grin is flashed, along with a shrug of the shoulders before attention is returned to the sands. A brown, lovely coloring to that one too. Such wings would carry one far … just beautiful.

From the sands below, In The Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet moves his head in motion with the shaking egg in front of him. Left, right, left, right, left, right. A shard goes flying and the bronze dragonet is suddenly running after it. It skids on the sand before coming to a stop, forcing the baby dragon to do the same. His muzzle is down again, though he's moving in a weird circle, shuffling sideways all the while keeping nostrils in contact with that little part of shell. Head is lifted, right paw is as well, before it comes down on the shard and giving a CRUNCH! Satisfaction radiates from this dragonet's swirling eyes.

From the sands below, Maosa leans a little closer to Yulena, eyes flicking intently from dragonet to dragonet to dragonet. "Didn't think it would be this fast," she says, just loud enough to carry over the pellmell. "Lookit the claws on those things!" Crushing grip aside, she says it with admiration.

"Oh that is a brown, y'all," Jesha says, whistling low in appreciation. "Lookit them highlights. His proportions're out of this worrrrld. Though I think we all like our own colors th'best." Nika gets a sidelong wink and grin. "But c'mon, the utter MAJESTY."

From the sands below, Ellen makes with a fair braced stance, weight coming down on heels as she regards the growing number of dragonets with a very sharp-eyed speculation. Squiiiint. "Naw," she assures Donner. "They'll still eat the shit outta you. Right on out." She gives him a good hard PAT on the back though, like GO GET 'EM TIGER.

From the sands below, Daycen has his hands clasped behind his back for a reason. He'd like to keep as much blood in good circulation as possible, thank you! Just in case.

Tilla giggles towards Jesha but takes the mark anyway, "The offer still stands, I'll get you something too, sweetness," she promises the brownrider. "Seriously though, I have no-" pause and ELBOW into Jesha's available arm. "THERE'S your brown! There, see!" Settling back in her seat, she takes a swig from whatever it is in her wineskin. Probably wine.

From the sands below, Dimitri seems entirely fine with standing almost perfectly still, eyes scanning just briefly over Hannah (and an attempt at what she's looking at) before he looks to his sister instead. And lets his hand slip from hers to sock her in the shoulder. None too gently. "Lookit you. You little girl." Finally, a grin. Only to be distracted, a moment later, by the dragonets. Quite possibly because of what Ellen's saying. Or their antics. Who knows.

From the sands below, Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet shakes egg-goo off with flair, spreading his wings wide. Enough egg-goo is removed that he feels cameoflauged enough — and so he huffs noisily as he walks purposefully toward the sea of Candidates before him. His wings are held high with a dramatic air, and as he reaches the first wave of Candidates, he pauses. Each candidate is considered with an intense gaze. No, none of these are what he seeks - they're not right. With a quick lash of his tail, he dismisses a boy from Nowtime Ista Hold and stalks onward as he continues perusing the selection before him. An annoyed chuff is released as he looks back toward his dam, as if saying 'Mom, these are no good. do I have to?' before he continues on his quest…shoving right through a knot of candidates too slow to move out of his way. Onward to find the right game!

From the sands below, Conquering the Mountain Green Dragonet snaps her head up suddenly, as mostly all of the small pieces of shell shards are now ground into practically nothing. Something tickles at her senses, a feeling of urgency takes her. Taking off at a dead run, she goes, goes, goes. Away from the mound of remaining eggs for the second time and towards the intermingling candidates. She weaves in and out of the singles and the groups, never stopping the extreme amount of speed that are pumping through her little green legs. Wait! Wait! There! There it is! Right, smack dab in front of her. There is some massive backpedaling needed as talons desperately grasp for traction. Her fast is downgraded to merely a little quick just in time for her form to connect with that of a teenager with pale, ash blonde hair and hazel eyes. With her head well snuggled into Kapia's midsection, the two are able to remain standing, though not without the inevitable. Eyes meet eyes and Impression is made!

From the sands below, The sudden arrival of a richly hued brown draws Sytin's attention for a moment before he grins, nervous and excitement rising in equal measure as the chaos proves to be this youth's element! He looks through the sea of Candidates and tosses Dimitri and Cerise a grin. And then the first Impression is made and the lad actually jumps up and down — excitement or relief for his feet? — with a wave to Kapia.

From the sands below, Yulena nods at Maosa, even if the other girl can't exactly see it, so focused on the dragonets. "They're pretty magnificent," she tells the mountain girl back - watching the brown briefly, and then the green moves quickly and Yulena lets out a oooh, "Kapia!" she cheers. Fist pump!

Tasena finds a good spot to get to Andi, where she offers up the price in question. "Quarter mark for the wine, half a mark for the cup if you didn't bring one. Cup's returnable, quarter mark if you give it back to me." Opportunistic? You betcha.

From the sands below, "Oh shut up," Donner grunts towards Ellen with a panicked scowl, hand flexing against Cerise's palm. Apparently the guy is totally not able to process jokes today. "I'm sure they aren't all thathungry for us." He can't even finish that sentence, because then that green slams right into Kapia for the first impression. "Oh Look! Kapia just I'm NOT MAKING YOUR BED ANYMORE." Donner sudden yells out towards the newly minted green rider.

Wedged in a few seats down from Teya and smug with it, the siginficantly shorter end of the family spectrum: Siraji leans forward and around the intervening, punches brownrider in the thigh with bony-knuckled fist and crows, "Now that's a green," at the just-Impressed. Then she leans forward in the toward-Sands direction, to size up the remaining candidates.

From the sands below, Thrice And Done Egg sits serenely in the midst of chaos, the quiet tick of time moving forward without its particular attention.

From the sands below, Taralde can't help but smile as Kapia's Impression is made. He's wearing a big dopey grin.

From the sands below, Maosa follows the source of Yulena's ooh, and lets forth a loud whistle, like she's applauding a Harper's performance. "Kapia! She's a beaut!"

From the sands below, Sleepless Savagery Egg shifts, just a little bit, here and there. Or did it? It's so hard to tell, with the light as it is in here.

Kalea feels movement in her belly and laughs aloud. Spreading her hands across the bulge of her middle. Apparently even the babies are getting in on Mama's excitement. She gasps when Kapia impresses a green and lifts her hands from her stomach to clap loudly. "Alright Kapia!" Sisters from another mother, that's what they are. She is beyond delighted by the occurrence but still on pins and needles watching the other Candidates waiting on the sands.

"OoO that green took that girl!" Oh so very helpful of Nika to point out. Nika is happily tugging on Jesha's sleeve.

From the sands below, Cerise rocks closer to Donner when she's smacked, but that treat is brief. Soon enough she's hunkering in close to Dimitri again with her shoulder practically tucked in against his ribs. "Shut up," she mutters at him. Hazel eyes flick hither and yon, trying to keep a bead on any incoming threats- these are, after all, the same infants who began their reign of terror long before breaking shell. When first Impression is made without bloodshed however, she summons a weak cheer for Kapia. "Felicitations!"

Wine? Who's got time for wine? Aaron's hand slips into one of his pockets and pulls out the ever present silver flask, uncapping it and taking a long swig from the liquor within before offering it around to the little group near him. "Go Kapia!" he shouts as he notices the Impression.

From the sands below, Kapia is just stunned for a moment, jaw literally hanging open. "S… Salanaith?" She repeats, staring at the green with marveling admiration. The encouraging words are heard, but all her focus is on her new lifemate. She sniffles, tears of happiness falling down her cheeks as she throws her arms around the dragonet. "Yes! I'm… Kaia. Let's go find you something to eat!" Laughing with shock, she tries to lead her new lifemate from the sands.

From the sands below, My What Big Teeth You Have Egg is still. Silent. Or is it?

"Fair," I'yn concedes to Teya's point, watching as green meets girl with a faint smile. He is somewhat sentimental as a rule, but Vazirynath has made it so that he's not quite as demonstrative as he once was. And no one in his family is actually standing, this time around, so there shall Be No Tears.

W'rin grunts, at least the bronze didn't impress first. "That green has spunk. Could make a great dragon." Could. There's the weyrleader from Igen, eternal pragmatist.

From the sands below, Kultir's attention was drawn by the quick moving green and lets out a whoop of congratulations to Kapia as the dragonet looks her in the eyes. Soon enough, he turns back to the eggs and the dragonets still wandering the sands. Quick glance means a brown and a bronze still have yet to choose. Another hand swipe to remove sweat from palms and a gulp.

From the sands below, There is Ja'kai, to the side, a formidible force half-undone by the fact that the undershirt he apparently wore to bed was PINK. Like bright pink. LENDAI pink. "Kapia," he calls to the newly Impressed; "Come over here, my dear." Only when she's closer: "Or is it Kaia now?" He guides the pair off the Sands.

From the sands below, Of course the dragon's would hatching at this hour. Getting dressed was a rush but Th'seus does make it onto the sands, a bit of time after the first egg has hatched. So he looks little disheveled. Vossuth keeps to the edge of things, decidedly not involved in this part of the process.

And it's N'thu who actually responds more to Siraji than his wingsecond or her brother does, even if they're the cousins: "She's got spirit, all right." That or he might be agreeing with W'rin. His vantage point makes it so that he could be talking to either — does it matter?

Kyara grins and claps enthusiastically for the zippy little green and the girl she finally looks to. A little biased? She may be. Of course she is.

Bouncing on her toes like the child she once was, Jesha's little dance ends up flopping Nika's sleeve-grasp along with her. "She's adorable. Ahh, gotta love the look on their faces. Oh! Salanaith's a good, solid name, too. Then again, S-dragons." Join the club, everyone!

From the sands below, In The Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet has enjoyed his romp through the remaining shells that once held his clutchmates, as well as the other eggs that still wait to hatch. One final crunch at the piece of egg beneath his paw and the bits are shaken free. Aaah, that felt good. His focus shifts, changes, the urgency to do more suddenly taking hold. There's no need to meander through the candidates, as from the very beginning this dragonet already knew who would be his. It was foretold, it was destined, all those months ago when hand touched shell and mouth spewed on sands. Moving down, across the sands, past several groups of candidates until he stops, with no rush, right at Dimitri's feet — what, you thought standing with Cerise and Ellen and pretending to sneak looks at the dragonets would protect you? Think AGAIN. In The Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet's rump lowers and he sits, all while flaring out those two wings and jerking his head up and down, up and down. Hey dude. It's time to look at me now!

From the sands below, In the Kingdom of Rust Bronze Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Dimitri, and steps forward.

Mailli cheers for Kapia's Impression, and goes back to watching the activities on the sands.

From the sands below, Daycen has a vague smile for Kapia as she impresses; though he seems more -nervous- on her behalf then anything else. And then the bigass bronze who stops in front of Dimitri. Whoah! "Well, that's a surprise."

From the sands below, Taralde laughs as the bronze chooses Dimitri. "Oh boy." He grins lopsided. "We're really in for it."

Opportunistic seems to be appreciated by Andi, who grins a little and offers a "That's clever," to Tasena for the thoughts on the cup. "I didn't think to bring one, so I'll be happy to — rent." Into a pocket goes a hand, and out with it come marks: just in time for her to be drinking to two Impressions. Neither are brown, unfortunately, but they will get there.

From the sands below, Yulena is looking over to reassure Cerise again just in time to see the bronze catch Dimitri's attention, and is… stunned to silence. Whoa. And then, Yulena starts to laugh.

From the sands below, Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet is distracted as one of the other eggs shifts, and glances back at his dam briefly. He was going to continue his quest, Mom, he swears! But the other eggs are just so fascinating! He pokes his snout against one of the still unhatched eggs, and then investigates this pile of eggshards here. Remembering that he's supposed to be meeting people, he heads off to thoroughly investigate another group of candidates — only to get distracted by the sand at his feet. As it trips him. Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet looks much aggrieved by this transgression upon the Sands' part, and huffs at it angrily as he investigates the cause for his tripping. Finding nothing, he once again approaches those in white — but still, something's not quite right.

From the sands below, Ellen comments, idly, "Don't think your supposed t'be doing felicitations when you're a candidate." But it comes out very distracted on the side - she then opens her throat around a brusk "Ieieieiei!" Cheer for Kapia OH CRAP and Dimitir. Her raised and pumping fist DROPS, looking… actually a little stunned. Which means she's mouth-breathing. "…Dims?"

From the sands below, Thrice And Done Egg shifts in the sandy wallow Dhiammarath has so nicely carved out for it. Once… twice… thricely does it wiggle, almost toppling with each shudder. Only after the third iteration does the shell crackle away in long shards, remainders of the shell rising in a powdery mushroom-cloud of egg-dust and goo. In the remains does the inhabitant cower, one head tucked under a wing: Faranth oh FARANTH, is the exploding over with?! Slowly that wing shifts and a narrow head peeks out: wait, it isn't the end of the world? Oh, well then. A brief inventory of physicalities: talons, tails and wings accounted for; well then. Head jauntily turns to the heavens and he moves out from the crater of his eggshell, only to fall flat on his face. He … meant to do that, really.

From the sands below, The Realm Unseen Bronze Dragonet
From the sands below, Behold, the brassy brilliance of charisma, the coppered confidence of bourbon: behold a sparse frame and burnished hide mere lodgment for the soul within. Seek not the cumbersome weight of armored dreadnoughts, for he lies not overburdened by physical imposition - t'is comedy that cants the angles of his headknobs, and intellect that draws heavensward his brow. Angular are the lines of his frame, cut sharp as if designed especially thrift with provision to bulk, but spendthrift for vivid veneer. An arcane glow suffuses the underlying mahogany of hide, exalting it far beyond mere copper or brass to the triumphant glory of aureate titian. Superior, the swiftness of sleek sails coined new-penny copper; exultant the high sweep of citrus-tipped neckridges; hallowed the autocratic lines of osseous face, insolence incarnate. Time as told claims measure in the weathering of slim-built paws tarnished brass and the spoilt-bistre sweep of concave underbelly, but touches not the triumph of skyborne wings, unsullied. Indeed, scintillating motes of incandescence gather at the points of mainsail and trailing edge, coruscating in paired double-helixes that seem unwontedly cheerful. These ageless inscriptions wind each about a single mote of pulsar-blue, as if wards set against entropy's inroading darkness.

From the sands below, No sooner is Kapia — Kaia? — being led off the sands than the bronze suddenly choose his lifemate and Sytin's eyes widen in shock and surprise as the beast lays down before DImitri. And then a broad grin splits his face and he's cheering. "YA HA! GO DIMITRI!" he shouts.

"Dimitri!" Nika is all beside herself, "Dimitri! Impressed!" Her friend, did Aaron see him? Did he? If the tiny bluerider could climb up the smith in excitement she would. "Wait, does this mean I have to wait a whole turn to try kissing him again?" Bugger. Still YAY!

From the sands below, Maosa swerves her narrowed eyes from dragonets to her Sands companion, eyeing the laughing Yulena with a bemused expression. "That's Cerise's brother, idin't?" She doesn't bother keeping THE BOYS straight, what. "Good on him?"

Kalea's breath hisses through her teeth with the bronze chooses Dimitri. She is so happy for the man to be sure. And the grin spread across her face expresses it.

From the sands below, Does Hannah snicker a little at Th'seus's sudden (LATE) arrival? Yes! But then Impressions are made. A few eggs nearest to the goldrider hatch, impressing a trio of greens to weyrfolk from distant shores. It's chaos, pure chaos, on the sands with forty-two eggs hatching. Some of the ones in the back are silent and still.

From the sands below, "Oh, woah!" Donner is quick to sidestep away from where Dimitri is standing, away from the dragon. Away from that. "Cerise, look! Your brother impressed!" You know, in case she HASN't seen it. "Good luck to the weyr, I suppose." Is he still holding onto Cerise's hand? Who knows.

From the sands below, Kultir whoops again, this time for Dimitri. "Bronze? Way to go, Legs!" he calls to the older Candidate … now a Weyrling. His attention returns to the roaming brown and now a bronze emerges as well. That coppery hide practically gleams.

From the sands below, Sidhe Season Egg is as all the seasons, quiet and lovely and ever-changing… yet

From the sands below, "K… Kaia." Kaia confirms for Ja'kai, still getting used to that herself. She seems unable to tear her eyes from her new lifemate as she follows along off the sands. "Is there food? She's really hungry…"

From the sands below, Bright Night Light Egg quivers ever so slightly, making those luminous red and green waves appear to undulate across its surface.

From the sands below, Cerise, like Ellen, is poleaxed when the bronze ever so politely summons their attention to him. Or summons Dimitri's attention. "Wait, that wasn't the egg," she starts to say before realizing she should probably drop her brother's hand. That is maybe the hardest thing she's ever had to do…but somehow she succeeds. And while he's distracted, maybe even tears up a little to see him claimed.

Aaron stops speaking, nay moving, as Dimitri impresses a bronze, then just starts LAUGHING. "Oh Faranth help us all! Dimitri on a bronze!" Nika's question gets a stare, then a bit of a laugh. "No, you're fine, as long as you don't actually kiss him!" Right? Sure!

From the sands below, Yulena is nodding and laughing and nodding again, nearly wiping tears, and slowly calms herelf down, to tell Maosa, "Yup, that's him. There'll be bubbly pies for this…" The new bronze is oohed at as well, though Yulena eyes the other shaking eggs as well.

Tilla agrees with Jesha, "such a cute green!" As another candidate impresses, and a bronze to boot. "Bronze, Yes!" Eyebrow raise towards Aaron and Nika, "kissing? I must have missed that. Mmmm? Mmmmmm?" Hand gesture meaning, 'more deets please?'

From the sands below, Sytin's attention is going every which way now, trying to keep up with the chaos that is exploding around him. Bronze, brown, and more eggs rocking to break shell. Hand moves to the back of his now sweaty neck, nervousness and excitement flowing from every pore now.

From the sands below, Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet is quite ready to be done. His thorough inspection of the remainder of his eggs, a few nearby candidates, as well as the sand itself has gotten a little dull. It's time, past time even, for him to finish up this little meet-and-greet he's got going on. Across the sands the brown starts to wander, more focused on what is ahead of him as he passes by group after group of the white-clad candidates. It does not take long to reach his quarry; this hunt is now over. His head is inclined, a proper hello given, to the tall and rather muscular woman. Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet lifts himself up now as he meets his swirling eyes, flecked with red from hunger, with those of the greenish-brown hued lass. Will my lady join me on this adventure? Yulena gets a creel before the brown butts his maw into her midsection. The adventure of forever.

From the sands below, Atop the Backs of Beasts Brown Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Yulena, and steps forward.

From the sands below, Daycen glances over at Cerise, a little curious. A little concerned. "You alright?" What? He can be nice even those he's a guy! Besides, it's a distraction from the crowd of dragonets around them. Annnnd, there goes Yulena!

From the sands below, Dimitri looks— down. Wait. "Wait— wait wait. Cerise? This one—" No more grinning now. Nope. He looks over ONCE MORE to the egg the dragonet in front of him came from, but it's too late for denial. A few moments later and he's staring down at the bronze with the colour draining from his face, and a distinct lack of movement save for the breath he needs to draw in to say, with quite some amount of confusion, "… Chorzeczoyth?"

From the sands below, The Realm Unseen Bronze Dragonet ruminates for just a moment as sand settles in dusty waves over his goo covered form. Slowly he attempts to take upon the persona of nonchalance as he wobbles upwards, a guarded look cast around around to check the progress of his clutchmates who break free of their individual prisons around him. There's a leg, oh, and another one, all in one piece. Careful attention is paid to each body part, the movement of white-robed creatures ignored for the moment in favor of a full body check-over, there's no need to rush these things after all.

Nika would love to give deets on her one time kiss, but at the moment she's busy cheering on the brown and his new rider. A girl take that 'The Establishment'.

From the sands below, Ja'kai's face: a grimace, a little bit? "Dimitri." His stoic expression is for his latest headache. "Over here." There's less enthusiasm, for SOME REASON. Wonder why.

From the sands below, Taralde takes a calming breath, the swirling of impressions and Impressions, it's something he wants to hold onto. He breathes in, out. In…. out. He glances up at the hatching cavern roof, the howling soothing somehow…

From the sands below, Snicker away, woman. Th'seus gives Hannah a little look out of the corner of his eyes and murmurs a quiet, "Someone's been keeping me up." The impression of the dragons of course, catches his attention and this is the part he's always been more interested in. So it pulls his eyes away from her as he rakes his hands through messy hair.

From the sands below, Donner is too overwhelmed, knocking into Cerise with one boney shoulder. "It's alright." He mutters the entertainer's way, shifting his own feet as he throws the most sympathetic of smiles her way. "Here." he makes a motion with his open hand, looking up only to just miss Yulena's impression. "Oh! Oh LOOK. Yeah! Yulena!" Claps. Lots of claps here.

From the sands below, Kultir runs hands up over his face, nervous sweat trickling down and tickling his neck gets swept up into his hair. At that moment he catches sight of the brown headbutting Yulena. "Yulena!! Yes!" he laughs, a brown … how appropriate!

'The Establishment' otherwise known as W'rin grunts heavily at the brown impression, but doesn't say much, maybe it is just for Corelle's sake, after all he has plenty of female riders on Whirlwind. Or you know. A few.

"Wait, y'kissed Dimitri?" Gossip time! Jesha gives Nika a shocked glance, joining in with Tilla in bearing down on the poor bluerider. "Ain't he a bit of a… um… caustic … for you? Wait wait the brown just Impressed!" Gesturing wildly at the sands with a flap of her non-cane and non-Nika'd arm first, she brings her hand up to her mouth to 'WOOOOOOOO'.

From the sands below, Yulena is laughing, there is laughing, there is… something hitting her in the midsection. "Stop it, Maosa…" Nope, that's bigger than a hand, and Yulena looks down into the eyes of the brown, and falls to one knee, hands resting on his shoulders. "Desmeth!"

From the sands below, My What Big Teeth You Have Egg shivers; the wait is over as the stillness held to until this moment is released. Tilting to the left, tilting to the right, until finally this small egg tilts over and rolls in the sands to land in the remains of another egg. Cracks form in the egg's pristine surface, a rat-a-tap-tap heard before the brittle surface shatters. Gone is the carnelian and rose, the creams and rubies. Where there was once an egg, now there is only the poised stance of Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet.

From the sands below, Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet
From the sands below, Silvered-blue fades to careworn steel along the gruff lines of this scruffy fellow, battered plasteel scuffed above an even coat of primer-coat azure. Weathered his wings and weary of the world, an aura of cynicism lifts sails in vast darkness of universal night; supernova brightness whorls through the midnight sky-sails as fanciful constellations, asymmetrical to any starcrafter's charts. Frosted ice highlights the staunch curve of hard muscle packed well-compact and short-coupled through the width of chest and round of haunch, giving the impression of a larger bulk than he possesses. The elegant lines of brow and 'ridge redeem his battered frame, turning scruff into charm and wear into that which is comfortably broken in: tattered he may be but disheartened he is not, courage of the ages rampant in the stubborn set of obstinate jaw.

From the sands below, Maosa is, on one hand, disappointed to lose her Sands buddy, and she's scurrying hastily away from the young brown, taking good advantage of her quick reflexes and too-warm feet. But on the other hand: "Yulena!" She lets out another whistle, then starts clapping with ENTHUSIASM.

Arianne wide-eyes at Nika. She WANTS to kiss Dimi? "Oh hey look! Yulena impressed brown. Another lady rider on brown. Hah!" Yes, that makes her unreasonably happy.

From the sands below, Taralde cheers for Yulena, grin plastered nearly permanently on his face.

From the sands below, Cerise has a free hand (yep, Donner still has the other one) and she briskly sets about knuckling away her tears with it. To Daycen's question, she says, "No. He's gone now. To Chorwhatsith." Gone but safe! For…for now? Maybe? With a last sniff, she deliberately turns her eyes away from Dimitri with his bronze in order to look at the other- wha? "…Yulena? Faranth's tits!"

From the sands below, More enthusiasm for THIS one. Even though she's a girl. On a fighting dragon. "Yulena!" so calleth Ja'kai, gesturing. "Come on, my girl."

Aaron jumps to his feet as Yulena's claimed by a great brown beast, pumping his fist as he whoops in joy. "Yulie!" he calls out, turning to the friends around him in celebration.

From the sands below, The brown finally makes his decision and Sytin beams at his favorite cook. "Congratulations!" He calls with a hearty clap as the bond is formed. But then their is a bronze, followed shortly by a blue. Woah. That bronze catches his eye with it's metallic hues, his inner Smith drooling over the shine.

From the sands below, Hannah does snicker. "MMMM-HMMM." But then, Dimitri impresses. "What the…?" Who let that one in? Wait. "Yulena. Now she's a good girl for brown." Commentary? Right?

From the sands below, L'ri steps forward to catch Yulena's attention with a polite smile. "Over hear, please, Yulena." He says with a little smile. "Desmeth, is it?"

Tilla sees another great impression. A brown! "YULENA!!! YU-LEE-NAAAAAAAAAAA!" People are probably deafened but she's jumping up and down, with Aaron. "MANGOS FOR EVERYONE!"

From the sands below, Sleepless Savagery Egg shifts and shakes, shuddering with dire portent. The time has come. Briers and brambles turn into tinder as the shell flakes away, a little at a time. When the occupant therein finally rises from the dust, he does so with a surprising minimum of egg-goo, stepping forth with purpose as if chased by some force beyond comprehension… or perhaps pushed by one, to seek out what lies beyond.

From the sands below, In Soviet Southern Aliens Conspiracy You Blue Dragonet
From the sands below, Conspiracy clads this slender blue in conservative attire tailored for his sighthound-sleek build: classic-cut his hide, a navy suit seen through a modest veiling of smoke. Pinstriped indigo neatly lines the patrician sweep of snout and buttons smartly up the aerodynamic calculus of elongated neckridges; below and beneath, everyman paisley faintly patterns the hollow of his narrow chest. Coat-tail wingsails rise in clandestine disguise, though the papyrus-thin translucence of gunmetal sails remain inadequate to cover-up the enigmatic map of ichor'd veins that sprawls as a mystery unsolved. An uncanny core under covert camouflage, innocuous he would remain but for a brilliant mask of truthseeker blue blazoned under canted eyeridges, a paradox rendered in cerulean.

"Yah, just once. And the only time ever outside a flight I ever kissed any body. 'Cept K'ane..only that wasn't really kissin' he was helping me cause At-man." Which makes complete sense, at least it does to Nika who is rambling but really paying attention to the BLUE that just hatched. Booyah! Blue brother.

Kalea watches the brown chose a woman she can't recall having met. The booming of the smith behind her clues her in that he knows her though. So she chuckles and feels a twinge of joy for Aaron and Yulena both.

Katarina stands and whoops loudly. "YES YULENA! YOU GO GIRL!!!" She turns to Aaron and smiles. "Now you have two brownriders to deal with, good lck love."

From the sands below, "Oh, he's going to have a good time with that." Th'seus replies when he watches Dimitri impress. There's definitely a hint of amusement to the corners of his mouth, tugging upwards as he side-eyes the goldrider again. "Indeed." He agrees on the subject of Yulena and then, "So strong clutch so far."

Sadaiya pipes up after a time as she puts a small hand on Aaron's shoulder. "You gonna be okay?" she murmurs, leaning in to catch her muscled Smith-friend's ear and pitching her voice to cut through the crowd babble.

From the sands below, Oh screw it, Donner isn't all so innocent to see an opportunity. He throws a long arm over Cerise's shoulder's an actual gesture of comfort for the woman. "It's okay. It'll be okay." He gives her a shoulder squeeze, not at all creepy, promise, alternating between looking at her and surveying the sands, eyes scoped to the bronze and two blues on the sands. "And look, Yulena and Dimitri will be together now. So far, so good, right?"

Tasena finishes her little wine dealing with Andi, smiles her thanks for the business, then moves on, pausing to join some of the applause for the latest impressions. She does know some of those candidates, after all. She adds a couple celebratory whistles before moving a few rows up the gallery, calling her wares.

From the sands below, As Yulena and Desmeth (!!!) start for the sidelines, Maosa is left… alone. ALL ALONE. But she's got her chin up and her feet flexed to fight (or flee), eyeing the two baby blues with near-equal amounts of wary-eyed fascination — though the latter gets a distinct stare. "What's he hiding?" she demands, like that's a question she can get an answer for.

From the sands below, Kultir attention is diverted from the bronze to the two blues that crack their shells almost at the same time. Both unique in their colorations. The normally stoic boy is jittering with nerves, practically dancing as he shuffles and shifts his feet. Eyes dart from egg to dragonet to fellow Candidate to those who've already Impressed and back again. He wishes he dared to glance up to the stands but he's almost too afraid to do that right now.

From the sands below, Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet gives a shake, sending egg shards and goo flying. A visual inventory is given with the unfurling of his wings, the lash of his tail and the dig of talons into the heated sands. Once everything is in order, the checklist completed, the little blue is off like a shot, barreling through the crowd of dragonets. Unlike the goo-covered dragnets and candidates around him, he knows exactly what coordinates he needs to hit to find his second-in-command.

From the sands below, Body parts checked out The Realm Unseen Dragonet twists his attention outwards from himself. Dude. Did someone start a party without him? If so, it's a pretty piss poor party? Where is the music man? Wiry limbs shake once, then twice, settling themselves up for the task of actually having to move- this party really should not have begun without his presence! He attempts to pull dignity together as he flicks his wings outwards and resettles them on his back. Right. There are women to be wooed and taken home this night! A slow mincing step is taken forward, the wobbling ruining the whole effect.

From the sands below, Taralde turns and catches Maosa's eye, he nods his head, C'mere. Grinning at the feline-wild Candidate.

From the sands below, Backing up, Ellen bumps the back of a shoulder up against Cerise's side. Silently. Still staring after Dimitri. But it's Donner she looks to, solemnly for a moment - like 'agh, what do you do, man.' And snorts through her nose. Like BULL.

The Impression of Yulena gets N'thu actually clapping; there's someone he actually knows well enough to care on a personal level! It's a broad-handed clap, and Teya or Sadie's ears may have suffered slightly for it.

From the sands below, Donner has to mack it even in the worst possible moments. What do you expect from him, Ellen? Common!

From the sands below, Another blue makes his appearance and Sytin turns a slightly startled glance at it, trying to follow Aaron's advice and not get run over by any of the less than agile hatchlings as they try to find their way to their chosen and preferred. Amber eyes dart, a nervous swallow bobbing his throat.

From the sands below, It's only when Desmeth croons some urgent need that Yules looks up to him and nods, rising to her feet and moving out of the main confusion.

From the sands below, Daycen kind of has to stare at Donner there. "Dude, for real? even I know better then that." he hisses. Which, let's be honest… that's not saying much.

Who is Corelle to make a scene? No, the woman is a picture of poised perfection, her ankles cross and pulled up under the bench, as with practiced smile she claps for ALL of the impressions, even the girls. You'd never know she had banded them from her own clutch. Look how happy she is for them.

From the sands below, Maosa scowls intensely at Taralde. SHE IS STRONG WOMAN SHE NEEDS NO COMPANIONSHIP. It is purely coincidence that she sidles in his direction, half an eye ever on the large winged animals with maws and teeth. She has priorities.

From the sands below, In Soviet Southern Aliens Conspiracy You Blue Dragonet moves forwards swiftly, taking no time after his expedited extradition from his shell to leave the remains of that RIDICULOUS prison far behind. Seriously. Whoever thought Ichabod Crane would make a good egg inspiration? Dumbass. Hearing hoofbeats all freaking day long gets old really quick. Oh. Oh. WAIT. MAYBE IT'S A CONSPIRACY. He roams headfirst into the crowd, and there is nary an inch of him out of place; he is sure and suave and eye-catching in a type of understated brilliance. He stops to sniff at a tall boy… or perhaps the better statement is that he slows down to do so. That one doesn't cut it, evidently, so he moves forwards with alacrity again. ZOOM ZOOM. The faster you go the BETTER. People can't, like. Steal your shit. Or your braincells. Because idea thieves are the worst.

From the sands below, Cerise completes the comfort chain by tucking her own arm over Ellen's shoulder. She doesn't appear to have noticed Donner's opportunity seizing, at least for the moment. Right now, no matter if it hinders escape attempts, she needs her people. Or some people. Her folks. Her eyes remain reddened but active in seeking out the activity on the sands, the hither and yon of dragonets stumbling for their matches. "…ugh, it's too hot," she eventually says, treating Donner to an elbow in the ribs.

Aaron laughs a booming laugh at Katarina's commentary, finally starting to settle back down in his seat with a hugely stupid smile on his face. "Oh, shard it all, I do, don't I?" he responds through his laughter. Sadie's concern gets his attention, and he just smiles at her. "Aye, I'll be fine. Couldn't be happier for her, though!"

From the sands below, Taralde rubs his hand over his face. Whoa. Sweaty. He tugs at the robe, fluttering it to vainly circulate some air. He moves a little closer to Maosa, not much, and certainly not while looking at her.

From the sands below, The Realm Unseen Bronze Dragonet is now fully recovered from his faceplant, and thus he moves forwards. Talons dig into the sand, and there is only a moment to look back once again — but the past is the past, is it not? And the present is now. Critical regard is given to the offerings arrayed. A tall lad from the mountains is veered around; no, not you, son. An inquisitive sniff of a quiet Nabolese, white-faced; no, he wont do, either. Wind and whimsy turns the bronze about abruptly, unerring in his steps to stop precisely before one of the youngest on the sands: his tail wraps around the dark-headed Smith boys ankles, and his eyes gaze upwards, seeming to glow in the golden moment of Impression.

From the sands below, The Realm Unseen Bronze Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Sytin, and steps forward.

Teyaschianniarina is entirely here, sure, but with forty-two eggs on the Sands and Impressions coming fast and loose — and N'thu's enthusiastic clapping - she has dropped out of the commentary-club and is mostly just really into, y'know. The whole Hatching things.

From the sands below, Sidhe Season Egg is majestic and solemn and surprisingly SILENT. Maybe … maybe this one's a dud. Has it moved? At all? Any?

From the sands below, Taralde grins as the dragonet approaches Sytin. He backs away, those wings span wider than you might think.

From the sands below, Whistle in the Wind Egg starts to vibrate, the tiny, nearly-invisible motions blurring the details of its shell.

From the sands below, Maosa and Taralde, totally not standing together. "Ugh," she complains, in an undertone just barely audible. "Watching 'em move is giving me a headache." Her narrowed eyes land on Sytin just as the baby bronze claims him, and she says, nonchalant, "Well, there's another down." Hurray for Sytin!

From the sands below, Bright Night Light Egg is shivering more perceptibly now — are those the same star-like pinpricks at its apex, or has it begun to fracture?

From the sands below, In Soviet Southern Aliens Conspiracy You Blue Dragonet is still on the prowl, weaving through the ranks with entirely no thought for the tradition of approaching the loosely-gathered candidates. He is officially Behind Enemy Lines, and going at a dangerous velocity: he bobs and weaves, almost running down that scrawny kid from Nerat before veering at the last moment. He seems to be focused on something in the distance, though, and his already speedy steps speed up to something just slow of a run. SORRY GUYS GOTTA RUN BECAUSE ALIENS. Or maybe whers. Seriously. Dudes. Dudes. Have anyone ever seen anything more freaky? They ARE freaky. … because aliens.

From the sands below, "This is a strong — did that child just Impress that dragon?" Hannah might have been entirely derailed by Sytin's Impression, even going so far as to give Th'seus's shirt a yank. Just in case he missed it.

From the sands below, Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet's trek across the sands might be filled with apparent uncertainty — the tripping, the near crashing, the series of unfortunate events — but purpose is driven here. From the sea of white-robed figures, only one calls to him to play the part of his second in command. After all, if a bad feeling about this bad plan exists, it's best to have the best there is. Thus, Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet falls into Taralde, his chosen.

From the sands below, Kultir steps out of the way of the roaming blue just in time to see the gorgeous bronze look Sytin in the eyes and is just stunned. A moment of silence then a yell of victory is shouted, "Yes! Yesyesyes!" A drop of something … a tear or sweat rolls down his cheek as he sends a thumbs up to his friend. "I knew it!"

G'deon had been hiding with the dragons over on the ledges, where Nylanth's dark bronze hide is just one of many. The aging rider is slow about it, careful not to block views as he sticks to the very edge of the galleries, gradually making his way up the rows until he can find a seat on the very end of one of the benches. One of the quieter benches, at that. As is his norm, he has provided his own skin of wine, though thank you for trying.

Kalea claps and pumps a fist in the air when Sytin impresses to a bronze. "Go Sytin!!" She really likes that kid and couldn't be happier for him. The impressions of the other candidates get a brief whoop from her. Before she quiets again and sits there vibrating in her seat.

"That was just a babe." Even W'rin has funny feelings, but nothing to be done now. "It will make him a man before his time." Giant arms fold across his chest.

From the sands below, "Oft" Donner takes the elbow to the rib with grace, and by grace, he takes it with an unexpectant intake of breath. Hands on knees, he catches Sytin's impression with a raise of brows. "REALLY?" Oh, ever so diplomatic is Donner, and his face knits into the most perplexed of looks. "But. But. He hasn't even hit puberty yet!" Ah, Donner's fake mortal enemy has impressed. "Well, congrats you little punk." That is said to no one in particular.

From the sands below, "Hey that's my child!" Well, uh. Not exactly. "Vossuth chose him." Just in case that needed clarification. Sytin is young enough to be one of Th'seus' kids. If he had kids. Which he doesn't. And if he did Sytin wouldn't be- Oh, you get the point.

From the sands below, Really Bad Feeling About This Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Taralde, and steps forward.

From the sands below, Hannah says, "You child." Hannah does give a brow quirk at that, about to ask some /really/ uncomfortable questions when a another series of eggs hatch, closer to the bulk of the action, spilling out two bronzes and a brown. In fact, the browns seem to be clustered all together. It's like Dhiammarath KNEW when she was laying the lines of her eggs…"

From the sands below, "What," comments Maosa, eyes following the zippiest dragonet with great wariness, "does that blue know that we don't? Is something about to — oh, bother, you too?" SCOOT SCOOT SCOOT away. She does whistle again, though. Someone explained Polite Enthusiasm to her, after all.

From the sands below, Bright Night Light Egg trembles as cracks race up it's sides, severing red from silver waves as the egg shivers in anticipation. A light tap, nearly lost in the sound and excitement of the hatching, pushes forward on the crack causing a large chunk to detach and shatter as it hits the sands, leaving a dark hole behind. Then- movement, the shell dissolving suddenly under an inward onslaught, leaving shards surrounding a bundle of bronze wings, feet, and talons snarled together in a hapless ball. Sand splays into the air as wings and limbs twist to their right angles, checking - no one saw that, right?

From the sands below, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet
From the sands below, Timeless is this dark-hued bronze, permanence promised in the solid brawn of his frame. His handsomely chiseled head retains an angular perfection which gradually errodes along the steady march of ridges. Sails, great and wide, are spun from the woolen dark of night's deepest shadow within which the barest traces of star mist may be gleaned. The honed leanness of shoulder and haunch heroically bear the weight of eons, staunch against the ebb and flow of history's tides, the trace of which may be found in a grizzled patina deposited upon his light-sprung barrel and creeping along the steady lash of his tail. Brighter burnishing chases along the folds of muscular limbs, a dull gleam at the friction points of weather-worn armour. Dexterous paws are polished to guilded dawn-light and set with dull emerald claws.

C'ren walks in from the Hatching Caverns Entrance.

"Awww, lil' guy, big dragon. Reminds me of when we Impressed. I mean, Sev and I," gushes Jesha, tipping her head at Sytin and his gobsmacked, post-impression face. "I was only 12 at the time… barely a turn and change later, we fathered a clutch with a goldrider named Vivian and her dragon Amerasuth, I think her name was. Ooh!" SUBJECT CHANGE! "Another bronze? Man, this clutch."

From the sands below, In Soviet Southern Aliens Conspiracy You Blue Dragonet slows his frenetic pace — abruptly, rather, coming to a sudden and unanticipated halt. He sees not the longing looks cast his way, instead focusing upon the nearest cluster of candidates with wariness etched into the lines of his stance. There is obviously more at work here than is obvious at first glance. He makes to slink past them in a wide circle, so preoccupied by keeping a close watch on the tall and burly boy at the forefront that he nearly stumbles over the feet of a dark-haired local girl — a really local girl. His head butts into her midrift, and only after the collision do his eyes rise in belated understanding. Coincidence? Nothing in life ever is, Maosa.

From the sands below, In Soviet Southern Aliens Conspiracy You Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Maosa, and steps forward.

From the sands below, "Yeah- Wait. No, not my son or anything. Just searched- you know what I mean, woman." Th'seus waves his hand at her. Oh nevermind. It's way too early for this kind of thing.

From the sands below, Somehow the hot sand beneath his feet doesn't matter as that bronze tail snakes around his ankles and time simply stops in the moment of that soulgaze. Breathing stops, eyes wide, locked in the depths of this other's soul. Then the clock resumes again and Sytin suddenly gasps, reaching out to touch the muzzle of this brazen creature, a lanky grin crossing his face as he chuckles. "I am hardly a fat hog. But I'm certain we can rustle up some grub around here somewhere, Iaxryth." He jerks his head and moves as the tail releases him, peering quizzically at the dragonet. "S'yn?"

From the sands below, Kultir rather belatedly yells again for Taralde's Impression as well. "Way to go!" is offered as he watches his new friend pair off with the blue. Attention drawn to the other blue and blinks as Maosa too is taken from the sands by another blue. He swallows hard, they're falling like flies here. Well, not falling but … yeah.

Kyara is simply watching intensely, her mouth stuck in a smile the whole while as she watches each baby dragon choose their new lifemates. Though she may be concentrating particularly hard on the one Candidate she knows out there, watching those still-single dragonets and trying to gauge whether or not he seems interesting to any of them. She's close enough she can hear her Weyrleader's commentary, and while she doesn't really indicate that she has heard W'rin…she's inclined to agree with that assessment.

From the sands below, Whistle in the Wind Egg remains subdued, just steadily rocking. It sways from side to side, the dance of tiny earthquakes creating hairline fissures through the ruddy surface. And then, with a single hop for a finale, one side of the shell breaks off to fall cleanly away, revealing a large pale green still curled into a ball. Her dark, damp lids open with a flutter and Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet slowly begins straightening herself from her coil to step out onto her half-shell and face the world.

From the sands below, Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet
From the sands below, The rounded simplicity of delicate celadon hide bestows a certain elegance upon this large and elongated green. Little definition is to be found in the plush slope of shoulder and haunch, lending feminine softness where so many profess strength. There is greater severity in her sharply refined features; small eyes lidded with deeper jade are set in high prominence above the narrowing beak of her snout. Heated cinnamon dusts wingspars, their spindled length supporting the curvaceous velvet of honeydew sails. Her only real adornment is the gleam of glassy jewel tones along her neckridges, cascading down her spine like a string of exquisite beads.

Of course she agrees, Kyara is a good girl. PatPat.

Such a nice Kyara.

From the sands below, Cerise is hardpressed to keep up with the rapid rate of Impressions. Fog, dragonets, egg shells and people departing the pack, falling left and right. She might have elbowed Donner away but she's keeping a firm grip on his hand too, and making certain Ellen remains directly beside her. "S'goin' fast," she brogues distractedly, with a faint note of relief.

From the sands below, D'tri is still just looking down. Excuse me is anything else going on? Oh right. Feeding. Or something. When he finally does move over to Ja'kai's side along with Chorzeczoyth, he shows very few signs of sentience. And may just nearly be tripping over himself on the way, staring at— his new lifemate? Not comprehending. At least he hasn't thrown up yet. But he doesn't look far from it. Might want to close his mouth at some point.

From the sands below, Taralde is gobstruck. He goes to a knee, heat, nerves, fear… all fade. Forgotten in an endless moment. His wingman. For all their days. His eyes flood with tears at the touch of the mind on his. He reaches out to touch the muzzle and then buries it's little face and chest in an embrace. He stands, head high, eyes glistening, "Esanth." He bows to the clutchparents and moves off with Esanth to… to the rest of everything. Together.

From the sands below, And then there goes Maosa. Donner is wavering in his stance, jerking his boney frame back and forth with the most worried of glances. If he'd had been bluffing about not wanting to impress, well, his face belies that logic. He's bumping back into Cerise with a worried look, an honest look filtering across his face. "Shards Cerise. Can I confess something." Death bed confession perhaps? A confession of love and adoration? Nope. "I'm nearly going to piss m'self." Gulp. "M'scared."

From the sands below, Oh hi, Cerise. Daycen sidles in closer to those who are left. The movemenet plasters already barely fitted white cotton against his skin in a decidedly ghostly manner, as he comments in agreement. "Thankfully. Maybe the air outside will feel cool in comparison."

From the sands below, The hatching is slowly beginning to wind down. The insanity of crazy-fast moonlit Impressions are beginning to slow… and as a matter of fact there lies only a single egg unhatched: only one, and bets are already circulating that it must be a dud.

From the sands below, "Muh-huh — wait, another bronze." Hannah does see this as a good thing. All the Impressions — "The wild girl?!" Hey, there's another strange one to the bunch. A look is given down the line of Impressions. "Hey, seems like drunken feline hunting is a good thing."

From the sands below, Ellen remains steadily solid, hard (frumpy), with her jaw set and her eyes - well there's dust in the air, shut up. These are people she's spent a lot of time around and big Life Changes are happening. She's just going to headbutt at the side of Donner's arm. With a forehead. "Dropping like flies," she agrees. Muffled. With Cerise.

From the sands below, Kultir swallows hard as so many of his friends are leaving the sand with their new lifemates. His eyes flick between bronze and green, both lovely creatures already … how can they become moreso?

From the sands below, "Oh." Maosa's voice has a strange hazy note to it, her attention rapt on the blue before her. She reaches out on an instinct to scritch an egg-damp headknob. "You did know something we didn't." There is a moment of solemn contemplation, girl and blue, before she shrugs with cheerful fatalism. "Alright. Come along, Osweith, let's get you grub."

From the sands below, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet leaves his tumble and his shell behind without a backward glance. Not that hes leaving quickly, with those big dark wings dragging in Southerns whorled sands. Theyre tangling him up a little, not to mention the grains of white and black starting to pepper his coating of egg goo — the annoyance of it shows as intensified orange flickers within the hungry rainbow of faceted eyes as he shakes a paw loose here and hauls a spar out of the way there. In his distraction of turning to look at a foot, he nearly collides with Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet as she steps out of her shell. Eyelids blink as he swivels a look over her, his big paws just manage to skitter him safely to the side. Oh hello.

From the sands below, Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet begins to stretch tentatively, but the sudden proximity of Knights Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet gives her quite a start! Unsettled, she draws away so he can pass without a tangle of uncoordinated limbs, her scurried steps smashing the fragments of broken shell beneath her feet. After a cool look toward her brother, she bows her pointed snout to inspect the sand, talons taking a moment to flex through the shards and feel the sharp crunch of her former confines. Captive no more, she turns her eyes to the stands, slowly recognizing the mass of shapes for what they are. Her wings fan out, perhaps in delight at first, but then they stay that way, waving gently to dry them in the hot air.

From the sands below, Sidhe Season Egg is so forlorn: the very last, the very last. Silent. Unhatched. Unmoving. Is there life within? Do the colors of all seasons slowly turn to the grey death of beyond ::between::?

Tilla claps, "Oh that's a beautiful blue and a…bronze?" Bewildered look. "I didn't do this. I swear!" Bronze was a random prediction. Reeeeally.

From the sands below, Yules is busy whispering little sweet nothings to Desmeth until he croons a little urgently at her. Oh yes, you'd think the ex-cook is better at feeding people, so as she and Desmeth make their way over to the Weyrlingmaster, Yules looks up into the Galleries with a fierce, happy expression before they finish their trek.

From the sands below, Kultir's nervous laughter comes out as a titter, odd coming from a not so small boy but nerves are playing havoc making him find amusement anywhere. The bronze's antics perhaps being the cause though more likely his own thoughts running round and round in his head.

From the sands below, Cerise grimaces. "If you're going to pee, pee somewhere else," she says curtly, nerves only a little frayed. Coincidence, that a step leads her closer to Daycen than Donner? Probably not. Her hand, shifting to Ellen's shoulder, gives it a reassuring and empathetic squeeze. Yeah. Just…yeah. "Who've we lost?" Y'know, when she was trying to dodge confessions. "Sytin, Maosa, Taralde…his dad's gonna have kittens."

From the sands below, Sytin moves over and spies Dimitri, offering his fellow Weyrling a grin as he passes, on his way to get some grub for his grumbling bronze. "Hey." The kid is positively beaming. The bronze moves with a reasonable amount of composure by comparison, unsteady wobbles aside. There IS food here, right?

From the sands below, Hannah might nibble her lip, casting concerned looks to the unhatched egg. Then back to Dhiammarath. Then back to the egg, until her attention is focused on the dragonets still on the sands. Hands are clasped together, attention riveted.

"Tilla! You're good at this game." Nika says sagely, as if Tilla possessed some skill and now blind luck. Unless she knows something…the bluerider eyes the green in mock suspicion.

From the sands below, Ellen drops a her palm on Cerise's hand. There-there… hand. Pat. "I dunno," she admits, "This place is like a big sharding cat box." Just let it GO, Donner.

From the sands below, Dhiammarath is unconcerned, though she moves to loom over her unhatched with a careful look to the rest of the ones currently roaming. In all things find patience, or so the stately queen seems to state: in all things, even this.

From the sands below, Daycen sees the scattered shell of the one single egg that didn't make him want to pee himself, and the bronze shaking himself out from the shards of it. He'll keep watching from afar, thanks! "If you don't impress, you should make sure to be the one to tell him. Bet he'd love that." is teased, towards Cerise. Everyone knows how much she and renalde adore each other. He ughs at Ellen. Ugh.

Prymelia is there. Has been all along, curled into a dark shadow way up towards the back. Nods and slightly strained smiles had been sent to those that greeted, a scowling grimace (meant to be a smile) added from the big redhaired grump next to her. Attention is trained to the sands and the goings on down there as if perhaps this were the first time she's ever witnessed such a thing. Breath is held then expelled. Then gasped in as one candidate after another impresses.

From the sands below, Donner is going to agree with Ellen here, and he doesn't even make a move to wave her off from her head butt. "Don't forget Yulena. We lost her too. And Kapia—or, whatever her name is now." He waves towards the direction of the weyrlings with a dismissive sniff. "I think it's almost over. Maybe." Okay, he lets go of Cerise's hand. HE LETS GO.

From the sands below, Also, Donner hasn't peed yet. Promise. PROMISE.

From the sands below, "I wish that one would hurry up and stop making me nervous." Th'seus mutters as he eyes the egg that hasn't gotten around to hatching yet. Yeah, he'll just fold his arms and stare at it now as he purses his lips together.

From the sands below, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet moves on reluctantly from Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet, gaze lingering as he heads away from the fallen shards of his clutchmates' shells. Limbs in approximate order, he's now starting to get this moving thing down. Not only that, but he has finally oriented upon the row of white. Candidates! Lined up for his inspection! And inspect he will with unabashed fervor. Sails coated a little closer to his spine, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet marches straight for the nearest figure — and what a figure! He can't be seriously considering the voluptuous blonde who came from oldtime South Boll, but he lingers until she starts to reach enchanted fingertips towards his chiseled features. Smoothly avoiding her touch, he slides onward toward the next cluster of candidates.

Kalea leans forward as far as her belly will allow her to. Watching attentively as the Candidates impress one by one and begin to shuffle off the sands. Ahh the memories that hatching's bring to those with lifemates of their own. A steady litany from Ryadranth whirls through her head.

From the sands below, Bailey is here. Lurking. Somewhere. She has some of that insanely delicious applebeer and has laughed herself SILLY up to this point, at random things that no-one can quite hear; must be Khalyssrielth's scathing internal remarks. Unless she's just laughing at the look on Donner's face.

Tasena makes her way back down the gallery stairs, messenger bags considerably lighter than they were on the way up. Business complete, she finds a seat near Prymelia and offers her (and the grump) each a glass. "Rest of the wine is on me, if you're interested," she tells the traders before pouring herself a cup of red. "Istan red, Tillek white. The white's not as chilled as it was a while ago, but it's still tasty."

From the sands below, Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet gives her wet hide a quick inspection, or maybe she's just checking on everything to see if it works before she bravely starts away from the remains of her egg. She heads for one end of the sands, not quite managing to start at the beginning of the line of remaining candidates all laid out before her. She's distracted, you see, as she begins her search, stretching long-cramped limbs and feeling the creeping itch of egg hardening on her skin, and it doesn't help that none of these candidate are quite right anyway. She cants her head in confusion. How can they be standing here in front of her like this and not be what she's looking for? Certainly the right one is here somewhere.

From the sands below, Kultir watches the final two hatchlings, eyes briefly going to that one unhatched egg and sighing softly. One out of forty-two wasn't bad odds though … it would have been nice if it had hatched too.

Tilla SHIFTY EYE GAZE at Nika. "Uh..blue! No..green! Brr…" Gluggglug, she silences her own random babblings with her wineskin. Biting her lip with antici-pation. Where will that hatchling green go? Even Amuirnith's eyes focus more intently, now, wishing her fellow green a full belly and a lifemate decision soon.

From the sands below, Cerise's gaze flicks between the remaining dragonets and that lone unhatched egg. Ellen gets a little shake for encouraging Donner, Daycen gets the briefest of quelling looks, but always her attention snaps back to those creatures remaining. The barriers to her wandering off and getting a nice cold ice-packed drink of something. Her newly freed hand rises to lift the weight of her curls off of the nape of her neck in the vain hope of a breeze.

From the sands below, Donner can't help himself. His face scrunches with a bit of agony and discomfort, and he hops slightly from one foot to the next. "I don't. Shards, Ellen, I'm not taking a piss on the sands." He makes a furtive grab near his junk. Maybe he's readjusting? How'd you like that Hannah? If Donner just, let it all loose here for you? "Afterwards. I can hold it until afterwards."

From the sands below, Sidhe Season Egg quivers and quakes. A fine trembling overtakes the shell itself, setting the four bands of coloration to vibrating against one another as if trying to achieve some particular harmony: season to season, ever-changing yet held so perfectly in balance. A tremor unbalances the egg upright, and it topples over to expose the glory of autumn's repose swathed about the band. That sunlight-soaked russet seems to grow, fall becoming predominant over the sweep of shell. Or… wait, that's a bronze emerging stolid from the shards of whence-he-came, lifting his damp wings in a sweeping, slow gesture. It is stately, this gesture, and embodies the essence immediately evident: unhurried, unhasty, yet brilliant with the scarlet of maple's dying defiance and the buttery yellows of sunlit leaves.

From the sands below, Lament of the Last Bronze Dragonet
From the sands below, A skybroom stoic looms solid-trunked and solid-limbed, with shimmering sunlight to warm the honest bones of a homely face and gild the tops of timeless neckridges. Doomed is this brilliance to die a crimson death to the bare-birched monotony of staunch neck stippled by branch and bramble. Vivid gusts the passing glamour of ephemeral smoke, leaving honeyed ochre as fleeting foliage across the depth of his chest and brawn of back. Gnarled paws lie patiently intransient, talon-tipped in evergreen, and oh! would they root him earthbound, but for the vastness of wings fated to free him from the fundament. Evanescent with the colors of summer's death, those sails unfurl ambered apricot and scarlet-scorched saffron, defying eternity with the memory of autumn's embers.

From the sands below, Hannah says, "Me too." Hannah eyes it — and then it cracks. "Well there we go." No dud egg out of her dragon and Vossuth. "Well that is a relief.""

From the sands below, Daycen is just going to take pointers over here. How's a dragon get chicks to touch him like that? It's not supposed to happen! "You better hold it till afterwards. We don't need to be standing in candidate pee." Stare. "Even if it is the middle of the night and nobody's taken a leak for hours. Maybe we're sweating it out. I wonder how that works…" his voice trails off, as he starts devolving into nerd mode.

From the sands below, Vossuth's on exhale of relief can be heard from across the sands. The bronze visibly relaxes when the not-dud egg hatches and hatches a bronze. And so he also looks a little smug too. "About time." Th'seus remarks as the tensions releases out of his shoulders too.

From the sands below, Lament of the Last Bronze Dragonet is as of yet unhurried, moving forwards with a precise determination that defies his age — all thirty seconds of it, at this point. He pauses, unhurried by the lateness of the hour and the lateness of his hatching, to sniff the trailing hem of a girl who stares at him with eyes forlorn. He's not quite gold enough for her, or so it would seem, for he moves on after whuffling at her faintly. Chin up, child. All things in due time.

From the sands below, Maosa is hanging out on the sidelines, dutifully offering forth meat for Osweith's maw. (She does make him stop, just for a moment, to run fascinated fingers over his teeth. Big ol' chompers.) Every so often, there is a musing "Oh, aye?", a response to some shared commentary. Every once in a while, it's accompanied by a sudden sharp suspicious look at one of her new clutchmates.

"Starts with a bronze, ends with a bronze." Blasted Weyr has all the luck, and W'rin has all the grumbles. "Good looking bunch though. Wait till they see ours." Only he really doesn't look as grumpy as when he came. These things soften everyone a little. Except for maybe Zeyta.

From the sands below, Kultir sighs with relief as the last egg finally chooses to hatch … another bronze at that! First and last, that may be an even better omen. His eyes brighten as the warm hued bronze steps out to start inspecting candidates. along with the other two hatchlings.

From the sands below, "Shhhh." That's Donner's response. "Oh look, I think it's over guys. Last egg hatched." That is, not factoring in the dragonets still on the sands. He gives Daycen the most pointed of looks, before tailing his attention back over to the green and bronzes. "Look at that last one. Phew. Almost over." He points, slightly in the direction of the green. Too close for comfort, guys. "She's uh, trailing kinda close, don't ya' think?"

From the sands below, Lament of the Last Bronze Dragonet has tested the endurance of all — or at least the boys still remaining. What, is he supposed to run for someone else's behalf? He snorts, this youth-garbed old soul, and pauses to dally in the middle of the half-circle of candidates. He stares at them all, this last scraping-of-the-barrel, as if confronted by the fact that being unhasty has, in fact, left him at the end of the picking. This isn't dodgeball, though, and with the faintest sigh he walks forwards, as if pulled by a force unnamed.

From the sands below, With his head tilted rakishly in evaluation, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet continues his path along the line of candidates. He gives particular skirting appraisal to a well built boy drafted from the ranks of smiths that have been working on the Weyr. Slipping away with a flare of still-damp wings, he moves along past a few more white-robed hopefuls until the lift of Cerise's dark curls from the nape of her neck seems to catch his eye. And yet, when he finally pulls up at attention it is before the long and lean young stargazer beside her. Did someone want pointers? He may have taken his time with it, but when the bronze hauls the dark coat of his sails into a loose fold over the boy's shoulders, there's no question that he has made his choice.

From the sands below, Knight's Endless Watch Bronze Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Daycen, and steps forward.

From the sands below, It is the work of several minutes for Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet to clear her soft hide of dampness. And all the while, measured paces put her face to face with each unclaimed candidate in turn, staying a full arms length away as she measures them, delicate flips of her wings declaring each unfit for her. She moves slowly, pausing to linger on the face of a stout boy before moving on. Then dark curly hair draws her attention, and this time, she does not simply consider. Restrained footsteps have the green circling the once-performer, till she glides before her again, close enough to touch. Eye contact is made between the pair, impression clearly made along with it.

From the sands below, Mistress of Her Own Destiny Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Cerise, and steps forward.

E'pha abruptly snorts loudly as one of his shoulders drops, compelling him to sit up straighter with a half-covered start. "Yes…. yes…" he mumbles in bewildered agreement. Whatever W'rin said goes. No, he wasn't napping during the Hatching.

Damn straight it does. - Now look at the cute little babies.

From the sands below, Kultir whoops with joy as first Daycen and then Cerise both Impress. "Yeehaaaww!" he whoops, voice cracking with the stress he's put it to this middle of the night. "Congrats!"


They better be :E

The fattest.

From the sands below, And then, well, there goes two more. "Cerise?" Oh, oh Donner looks plum HURT. "Uh, congrats." He says this softly, stepping back away from the pair with a shifty look towards Ellen. Well, he seems to say with no words, just a shrug. Just us weirdos left.

Plump little dragonbaby butts.

Bet that lats one was Jesha.

From the sands below, Lament of the Last Bronze Dragonet has taken his time, and that is not likely to change in the near future. Every movement is as if it is preordained by some force far beyond that which would inspire a last-hatched dragonet: each step sways as if moved by the whistling winds eerie and above. Dawn is close, now, and his steps slow even further, passing the winnowed ranks of candidates with deliberation. He ends where he destined to end, rearing up to plant his paws so-careful of egg-soft claws on the shoulders of the one he chooses: homely snout is pushed close to the long face of a skinny chestnut-haired lad, his snort one of gentle admonition. Be not hasty. Weirdo.

From the sands below, Lament of the Last Bronze Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Donner, and steps forward.

From the sands below, They are skirting kind of close. Cerise, who had been lapsing into something like relieved anticipation of being able to leave soon, starts to tense up when Donner summons her attention towards the green. The glance is intercepted by the bronze muscling in to make a claim on Daycen, prompting a squeak of surprise and a step backwards…only to find herself likewise the subject of someone's attention. Her head turns slowly, tracking the green's slow circling. When Impression is made it can be seen in the jolt that goes through her that sends her to her knees. "Oh…Jiamoth. But…"

From the sands below, Predictacly, the newly impressed Daycen nearly jumps out of his skin when that bronze gets -so close-. But then he's like a melty puddle into the sands. All warm and happy and… ((no, he didn't pee hiself)). "I… right. We do? We do." he agrees, to voice unheard. "Raxsonath … food, this way." He kind of knows where they should be going! Wherever a weyrlingmaster stands.

From the sands below, Ellen scoffs at Donner, like GOD I'm trying to solve problems here, "You're doing a pee-dance, bro. Just spread 'em and let it pour. You're going, y'know. Commando, yeah?" Because apparently ELLEN is - oh. Shit. She had been cheering for Daycen, a sporting little 'roo-roo-roo!' when — She packs up against Donner's side to clear the way, like a sea parting as the green comes forward to find Cerise. "—oh. Shells." She seems to almost be thinking maybe she should just tackle Donner, shove him under her arm like a football and make a break for it, this shit is getting srs.

From the sands below, Maosa, off to the side, happens to look up from Osweith's Fascinating Discourse to witness - "Oh," she complains, quite loudly. "NOT HIM."

"Look look look look!" Nika is rather excited that it started, everything that happened in the middle and now because it is over. "They all impressed!" As if that was a surprise.

Tilla chokes at Nika as the egg finally hatches into a bronze. "Ehhhhh?!" Blinkblinkblink. "yea!"

Tasena can't help but laugh a little when that little bronze turns to Donner. There might even be a gentle elbow-nudge toward Prymelia, though Tas's only real comment is to drink. And to refill.

From the sands below, Kultir catches sight of the bronze stepping up to Donner and cheers happily for the boy. "Way to go, Donner!" he calls, voice thickening and falling silent as he realizes that it's all over. Oh well. Back to the jungle. He's got work to do.

Kyara is all eyes for those last few hatchlings and the remaining Candidates, a little on edge as she watches. Are they really just going to let Donner get away with being a slackabout for the rest of his life? W'rin's comment about Igen's clutch, however, does get her shooting a cautious grin up at the Weyrleader. "It'll put this one to shame, sir," she concurs. But then…oh-ho! There goes Donner! With a bronze, no less! And she starts chortling as she claps. "AHAH! Donner! OH, that ought to teach you!" Never mind her. She thinks this is just what he needs. No excuse now!

From the sands below, Yules looks up in time to spot Cerise coming their way with a beautiful green coming with, and then in the distance Donner and a bronze, cheering excitedly before looking over at the one Candidate she knows well who is left. There's a little softening n her eye; She's been there before.

From the sands below, This was not something Donner was expecting. He doesn't see the bronze dragonet until it's too late, and he startles back, tripping over his own two feet until he's plopped right onto the ground with a startled yep. "Oh! NoI!" His voices catches in his throat and well, it looks like the guy might just cry with a mixture of panic and relief. "Qianvaelth. Qianvaelth oh. Oh okay. Yeah." Words are lost. Words are lost. Donner, now E'don might have just peed. Just a little.

From the sands below, As the Last of the Last Impresses, the sands are littered with the shards of forty-two eggs. A legendary clutch, to be sure, especially with no dud eggs. Hannah claps her hands together and faces the Candidates remaining as the Weyrlingmasters usher the last newly impressed off the sands. "We have members of our headman's and weyrlingmaster's staff to help you through the transition," her voice is kind, soft, to those left Standing, "and you are more than welcome to stay and find your home here in Southern to stand again. Thread is coming." To the Galleries, she extends an invite. "The living caverns have been set up for the after Hatching party. Feel free to enjoy fine wine and delicacies on us!" And that would be the end.

To drink and refill. What a splendid idea. And Prymelia does just that, swallowing down a hasty few mouthfuls of the wineskin she has with her, almost choking on the last swallow when Tasena nudges her. Uncertain the quick smile sent the bartender's way. That she's thrilled for the handful of candidates she knows of that there is no doubt. But…Just but.

Cupping her hand once again around her mouth while leaning heavily on her cane, Jesha calls out over the railing: "I LOVE YA, HANNAH! GREAT JOB!"

From the sands below, Desmeth squalks to get Yules' attention again. Food, lady. C'mon.

"Will someone shut that bluerider up?" No worries, W'rin is mumbling very softly, only Kyara would likely hear him, maybe E'pha. Though his newest rider is assested quietly. "Yes. Yes it will teach him." He grins approvingly. Not that he knows the kid, but impressing as a way of doing that. "Welp. That's done then." Official having to be nice to people he could give a shit about time is over. And the man would happily stomp back to his dragon, but then the soft hand of his weyrwoman reminds him he has a flippin' party to go to. Blast it all to ::Between::.

Kalea watches at the last bronze impresses to another Candidate and sighs. Well there are always other hatching's. She hears a clear warble of soft disappointment from above. The sound noticeable because of it's timber and sorrow. Still she's excited for the newest hatchlings and smiles happily as she watches them move to the edge of the sands. She sends a brief message to Ryadranth as she pushes to her feet and moves toward the ledges.

From the sands below, "Okay, food. Yeah." Is all E'don can muster, and off he goes towards where the other weyrlings are. Chow time.

Tilla whistles and gives the thumbs up to everyone still on the sands. Rising, she grins over at Aaron, Jesha and Nika, "I'll see you at the party? Need to go check on the littles, first." And probably swipe them some desserts! Tilla-spawn with sugar. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Aaron watches the last of the impressions, and then climbs to his feet, grinning. "Aye, there's drink to be drunk and dancing to be done."

Tasena tosses back cup o' wine #2 and gets to her feet, along with about half the gallery population. She gives Prymelia and her trader buddy a quick salute before joining the queue who are party-bound.

Drink and dancing. Right. Staring at the emptying Sands with a blank expression in place, Prymelia startles when a heavy hand lands on her shoulder, glances up at her uncle then over to Tasena. After party. Yes. She should change. Nightwear masquerading as daywear simply won't do.

G'deon exits as quietly as he entered, blending in with the exiting crowd.
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