Ginger, Katryana, F'kan, Z'bor


The first group of Candidates are ushered onto the Sands to Get aquainted with Zymuraith's eggs.


It is afternoon of the tenth day of the fourth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.


Hatching Sands, Southern Wery

OOC Date 20 Jun 2018 04:00


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Hatching Sands

The Sands are surprisingly soft to the feet and to the eyes: rich grains of gold commingle with the ground basalt-black that mark the shores of Azov's Sea. The whorls of lighter color pattern into the sands, larger-grained and often settling at the top, as golden driftwood against dark shores. … but the moaning from above sounds like the chorus of the damned, lessening the natural beauty here below.

Getting grabbed to march a handful of candies into the Sands to introduce them to the eggs is something that F'kan is finding not a bad alternative to working on reports. Gathering the small group at the entrance to the Hatching Grounds, he turns to the assembled Candidates with a lopsided smile. "Okay then, now you're going to want to bow to Zymuraith when we go in there, and remember to be polite, respectful and of course gentle at all times. No running or jostling each other, or you'll be out of here." With a wave of his arms to release them to do their thing, the brownrider steps aside to let them through. "Oh and spread out, there's plenty to go around," F'kan calls as an afterthought.

Ginger has been here before, often enough to know the drill. Still, she's no particular desire to be leading the pack, and hangs back to allow a few others to go ahead of her before she steps onto the hot sands herself. Once there, she advances a little way before stopping to give a deep bow towards the golden queen. After that she starts to wander, moving slowly. Her boots are thick enough to protect her from the heat underfoot, and her feet fall softly as she approaches one of the eggs that has taken her fancy, Seacrafter Take Warning Egg with its ominous red and black shell. She studies its colours for a minute, then gently extends her hands to run her fingertips across its surface.

It's always darkest before the dawn, and you're plunged into it now, black as pitch all around. But suddenly, the faintest glow of red blushes the horizon, at first you think it's maybe a trick of the dark, that your eyes are slowly adjusting. But no, the color only brightens, deep crimsons at first then diffusing into deep magentas followed by burnt orange. And though you feel the warmth of the coming sun on your face, there's an air of menace to the coming day, a prickle of dread creeping up your spine that nags quietly.

Katryana similarly has found getting introduced to the eggs a great alternative to working on chores. Glamorous candidate life and all. Still, she hasn't had to empty any bedpans for the last few sevendays, so the girl can count her blessings. F'kan is given her full and complete attention in a rare moment of stillness and quiet from the bouncy teen. She's even come wearing REAL shoes, which is nothing short of a miracle. They're kinda clompy and large on her feet, but you know what? She was lucky to get that much from the Headwoman after she almost knocked over that shelf in the stores trying to get things onto the top. Hopefully today will be a better day for her coordination choices. Wide-eyed, she peers around F'kan to get a glimpse of the clutchmother in the distance while he goes on… hey, he got a WHOLE 10 seconds of undivided attention, that's progress, okay? Ginger is flashed a broad smile and she attempts to bounce on the balls of her feet in her newly-acquired shoes with so-so success. On your marks, get set, go? Yes! They're freeee! Containing her excitement, she manages to proceed at an orderly pace with the rest of the herd to pay their respects to Zymuraith. Her neatest, prettiest curtsy is performed for the gold and then it's a bee-line for the Fukuryuu Dragon Puppy Egg. Reverently, hesitantly, she plants her palm on the egg, unable to resist grinning like an idiot as she does.

Hope you like the feeling of your arm being still being attached because as soon as this one makes contact it's off with you! Soaring, flying and shouting to the skies? Well, not shouting, but the feeling of the freedom of flight is there and all that goes with it. A feeling of luck and adventure seeps from this egg, as if it's inhabitant can't wait to greet the world. Alas, not yet,and it gently sets you to the ground again, it's seems this story has an end for now.

Z'bor is more than happy to escort candidates to the sands, ozriath loves seeing the candies and a chance to view the clutch front and center is always fun. He's always one to remind the candidates of their manners and such, but mostly, he's here to supervise and make sure no one or no egg gets hurt.

Ginger shivers a little in response to the darkness that finds her and the sense of threat that's coming from this egg. She straightens as if about to step back, but then some strand of crafted iron firms her spine, and instead of withdrawing, she places both palms flat against the shell and moves them slowly, as if to stroke and reassure the young creature within. "Hey, hey, I know it's dark in there, but there's no need to be afraid," she murmurs, closing her eyes and lifting her face as if to feel the heat of a rising sun. After a while, though, she does move on, turning towards the edge of the clutch, where she approaches the fractured silver of Shattered Worlds Egg. Her eyes are fixed on its surface as her fingertips drift across the illusory cracks and reflections.

The moment your hand touches the silvery surface of this egg, your vision fractures to an infinite number of pieces, each one reflecting it's own little world back at you. The effect is almost like a choatic kaleidoscope as the pieces start to rotate around and with each other. Dizzying though the effect is, there a resigned sense of inevitableness, as though the effect of this egg will linger with you for a long time.

Healer-apprentice-turned-candidate squeals in delight — but, like, a quiet squeal to not be too disruptive — as she's mentally absconded with by the resident of the egg. All too soon, she's psychically back on the ground, though the breathless excitement still has a-hold of her. The teen breaks into giggles. "Oh, that was fun! Hello to you too! We'll see you soon enough, eh?" is directed to the egg affectionately, patting it sweetly before Katryana reluctantly moves away across the Sands, casting a look over her shoulder back to the egg she's left behind. After a moment of deliberation, she goes on a trek to the edges of the clutch to greet the Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot Egg. Clicking her tongue, her fingers trace the textured ridges of the egg, more bold this time.

Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot, now you have your cootie shot! From the second this egg feels another presence, it reaches out, childish excitement and shenanigans bubbling under the surface just waiting to explode. Remember that feeling when you were a kid and learning your harper songs and your lessons? Well, that's what teaches out to you, and whether you're running from the girls or boys, it's a good thing you've had your shots, right? It's with the reluctance of childhood fun lost that this egg sets you free Katryana, cause you can play later, right?

Ginger gasps and almost grabs the egg for support, but has the presence of mind to step back instead, pulling her hands to her chest. "Whoo!" Sotto voce, she adds, "That's kind of head-spinning." She tries again, lasting a little longer this time, but again steps back, shaking her head. She's had enough of that egg, and moves on. There's a dark and glossy egg in her path, with a rough surface that culminates in a smooth tip - Worn for Luck Egg. Moving closer to it, she stretches out a single hand and runs it over that pointed end before laying the other hand on the uneven shell.

Though stony on the exterior, the moment you run your hand over the very tip, there's a rush of murmurs in her your head, a fluttering of ghost touches right where your palm meets shell. An echo that carries with it the hopes and desires of a multitude, like soft murmurs on the breeze. From inside, a heat pulses to encompass you, settling like a warmly optimistic blanket before retreating again, a brief benediction to rouse your faith.

All these giddy eggs aren't really acting to foil Katryana's excitement. Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot Egg also draws girlish laughter from the teen and she seems a bit put out when its occupant draws back, pouting prettily. "I guess you're not ready to play yet, are you? That's okay." Pat, pat against the surface of the egg, like one would give a four or five Turn old when sending them elsewhere to play. Humming to herself, a learning tune of childhood, she adventures out again. Find A Penny Pick It Up Egg catches her eye and off she goes! She's apparently here for a workout. Fear dissolved, both hands are pressed against the shell in different places, fingers exploring the contrast of textures with glee.

Unlike it's brethren, this egg is something other, something different. Contact brings on the feel and smell of heated metal, the taste of copper fills thick the air and it's warmth is comforting, or tries to be. Can you pick it up and put it in your pocket? No? Shame. It wants to be there, to bring you luck. Perhaps today is not the day. With a hug like feeling, it releases you. Maybe next time. Luck till then.

Ginger smiles at the response from the Worn for Luck Egg, and keeps her hands in place for some time, her expression of pleasure slowly fading as there's no more reaction from the egg. She steps back, but still seems reluctant to move away. Finally she turns her back on the egg and goes looking for another of the ones that she'd picked out during her sessions of viewing from the galleries. She approaches Cross My Path Egg slowly, but with an anticipatory smile, speading her fingers as her hands move over its dark surface.

It's so weird. You can see you your hands touching the dark shell, but the feeling you get is conflicting in all ways. Instead of the hard surface clearly before your eyes, there's a sensation of your fingers sinking deeply into luscious fur. Right under your fingertips, a soft vibration, constant and reassuring, as you feel something shift, almost stretch from within. Haughtiness with a touch of indifference exudes from the egg, magnanimously allowing your touch at the moment, but beware Ginger, it's mood is fickle and will warn you with a soft prick in you linger too long. Careful, your luck can shift from good to bad in an instant.

Katryana almost falls on her rump as warmth spreads through her hands, jerking her hands away from the heat instinctually. A sharp breath of copper-tainted air has her coughing, but the lack of malice in the touch sees her return her hands to the shell — haltingly, at first, and then relaxing them against the shell, resting her forehead gently on it, too, once her suspicions of non-malevolence are confirmed. "Sorry, friend," she whispers apologetically, "I got spooked. I heard some eggs could be mean, but I think you're nice." The mental embrace fades away and she inhales deeply of air fresh as it gets in the heat of the hatching cavern. Her eyes cast across some of the more foreboding eggs. Ah, that'll do; Bane of the Supernatural Egg looks nice and cool, so she shuffles that way, spreading a hand out on the metallic-sheened surface when she's close enough.

More metal, this time cold and smooth and encompassing, a protectant much like the metal of a thread shelter. There's a sound feeling of safety, a surety here that may lead to overconfidence. It bolsters you, builds you up, makes you strong, and turns you loose. Go forth now young one and be protected!

There's something soothing about touching Cross My Path Egg, and Ginger stays there for some time, stroking it gently as one might a purring feline. Eventually, something makes her draw her hands away fairly sharply. "All right, I get it," she murmurs, and moves on. She avoids a couple of eggs that look rather gruesome; instead she's drawn to a large one whose shell is multiple shades of blue: Five Fingers Against the Eye Egg. She walks round it, tracing the silvery streaks with her fingertips before laying both hands, motionless, against the shell.

Oh what's that you smell Ginger? Nostrils are tickled by the sharp aroma of exotic spices, assaulting your sense of smell and taking you to foreign places. To the desert, the wind picking up as grains of sand are whisked along, stinging little projectiles of annoyance that you feel prickling over your exposed skin, a threat looming ominously, as if watching you close. But then, just as you feel the evil look your way, something steadies beneath the shell, like the grip of a hand holding you still, and with it the winds die and the menace moves on. For you, Ginger, are protected.

Relief is sighed as Bane of the Supernatural Egg is exactly as it seems on the outside as a sense of cold and safety envelops Katryana. Standing a bit straighter, she lilts away, the egg Ginger is leaving drawing her attention. Cross My Path Egg is approached with less caution that the previous. Despite its inky darkness, it seems welcoming enough, so a single hand is reached out and strokes the surface tenderly, the touch one would give the feline this egg brings to her mind.

This egg is more aloof, though it does tolerate your touch. It seems to feel you out, it's presence darting to and fro through the hallways of your being, it could be an omen, good or bad, or a familiar, there to guide. Either way, it soon tires of being here and skitters off, leaving you to the sands and it to whatever it gets up to just sitting there.

When he notices Zymuraith starting to fuss over all the activity around her eggs, F'kan calls out as quietly as he can, while motioning for them to please make for the exit now. Keeping an eye on the clutchmom, he bobs his head respectfully in her direction as he continues to usher out candidates.

Z'bor will bring up the behind, ushering candidates off the sands so that Zymuraith might have her peace with her clutch. It's been a good first introduction to the eggs. Z'bor himself bows respectfully to the gold as they exit, humming a soft tune on his way out. It's been a good day.

Ginger holds herself tensely, alert, face tilted upwards as if sampling the air, and then more warily, but after a while she relaxes, nodding her head slightly. "Yes. Yes," she whispers. "I see. Thank you." And that's that, and it's time to go. She's very thoughtful as she makes her way quietly off the hot Sands, with a brief bob to the queen as she passes.

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