Who

Ryott

What

Ryott has "acquired" a couple of firelizard eggs. Can she keep them hidden until they hatch?

Backdated

When

It is midmorning of the first day of the sixth month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Southern Telgar Steppes

OOC Date 12 Mar 2018 04:00

 

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Southern Telgar Steppes

The savannah home of desert runners and hardy herder-folk, Telgar's steppe-lands along the northern bend of the Western Road are dry and wind-swept. No trees grow here, save around the scant rivers and lakes that dot and thread the terrain. Summers here are quite hot, and the winters are deep, with many a morning finding the low shrubs and grasses gilded in thick, silvery frost. The flatness here might drive a mountain-dweller insane, were it not for the rolling hills that break the monotony of the view every now and again. Navigation must be done relying on sun, stars, sense, and scant landmark alone, for there are no mountains or valleys to take a bearing by for leagues.

It is the first day of Summer and 98 degrees. It is hot. Hot, hot, hot. Rukbat bakes the desert. Temperatures soar.


Two Sevendays Ago

During the rodeo, after Ryott had finished her meal of curry, she had continued to roam the Kheerin grounds, seemingly without aim. A sharp eye though would have been able to plot her course after a couple of circuits because no matter which way she went, every couple of minutes she'd end up passing a large table where several people, Zingari and outsiders alike, were caught up in a rousing game of dragon poker, with increasingly high stakes.

Through her keen, but outwardly disinterested, observations, the teenage spyling had noticed a pair of clay pots sticking out of one of the outsiders. pack tucked carefully, or so he thought, under the man's chair. They looked very much like pots one would keep firelizard eggs in when they were hardening. Now this man she was able to gather, was losing, and the more he lost, the more he would drink out of this bottle with a garish label that advertised the liquor as "Zing Berry" one of the new kinds of whiskey popping up to compete with the Red. Of course, being 13, Ryott has yet to try any of the flavors of whiskey. Well not that she would ever admit to.

When the man finally loses his last marks, you could almost see the fumes coming off of him. Lurching towards the yurts specifically made for those who need an out of the way spot to sleep it off, he momentarily stumbles before a kind youth helps him along, putting one arm round his back to steady him as he was led to the tent and escorted in. When he turned to thank the child, he only caught a glimpse of a short frame in an over sized tunic tucked tightly into the pant's waistband, with a scarf wrapped draped over their head, hiding face in shadows. It wasn't until the next morning when he discovers that the clay pots are missing from his pack, with only a hazy recollection of the events of the previous evening.

Ryott smiles as she remembers that day. She'd been rather proud of the way she was able to slip the two pots up under her tunic one-handed from the man's pack and while walking. Her own smugness did not make her reckless though. She knew that if she was discovered with the eggs there will be all kinds of inconvenient questions about where they came from. And by the touch of their shells still needed some time to harden and to do that they needed to be kept warm.

So when the dark of night came and the camp was mostly asleep, the spyling slipped out of bed and took her wrapped package containing the two pots and their contents. Over the next few candlemarks, she carefully secreted a basket as well as all the spare furs she could 'borrow' and created a warm nest in a small hidey hole she had created underneath the Resident Wagon when they had first arrived at the Steppes. It was made by carefully stacking crates and boxes so that one corner of the space is made to look like storage, but really there is a hollow inside just large enough for the basket and furs to fit snugly. Once her eggs are nice and snug, the girl slipped out to find her own bed.

Present Day

The first day of summer dawned HOT on the Telgar Steppes, and this was the day that Ryott hoped her two eggs would finally hatch. She has been checking them several times a day, and for the last day even more than that. Last night when she had left them, they felt rock hard, and still warm in their nest of heavy blankets and furs. So this morning, she had managed to make it to the cooking fire first thing and grabbed a couple of handfuls of bacon wrapped in a napkin from the heaping platter on the serving table. A couple of fresh rolls were also snagged as she made her way to the wagon. One last quick look around before she easily slips underneath the large wagon.

She scoots all the way to that back corner on her stomach, pulling herself along on her elbows. Carefully moving the screen of crates out of the way, she carefully lifts the layers to reveal the two eggs underneath. Placing a hand carefully over their shells, she can feel that they are still nice and warm. So she hunkers down again and begins to eat her roll. It's a good thing it's her rest day, or she would have had to come up with an excuse to get out of training.

Ryott's usually impassive features are now pulled into a focused stare of ebony eyes as she munches softly on one of the breadrolls. When she reaches for the second one, her keen hearing catches the first faint scratching sounds coming from the eggs. Peeking over the rim of the basket just in time to catch one of the eggs shuddering slightly. This is Ryott's cue to pull the napkin wrapped bacon from her pocket and unfold it in readiness. The anticipation is palpable as the girl takes several deep breaths to calm her uncharacteristic excitement, the only clue to which is a slight dancing in her eyes which for this girl is the equivalent of giggling with glee.

Finally her patience is rewarded when the first firelizard makes it's appearance. It's a tiny but shiny electric blue hatchling that pulls itself free from the shards of it's egg, creeling his hunger pitifully. As soon as she hears that creel, Ryott is holding out a long strip of bacon. The shiny little blue sniffs suspiciously before quickly snapping jaws over the piece of meat and chews thoughtfully. Just as he is taking a step closer for another bite, the second egg begins to shake in the furs.

When finally the first small blue is curled up in the crook of one arm, where she is stuffing bacon in his mouth as quickly as possible, the second decided that is the time for it's entrance. With it's shell exploding into countless shards, leaving in it's wake another blue, although this one is a matte steel blue with a darker patch of navy splashed over his face giving him an air of mystery. Once free, and dripping with egg goo, he cranes his neck and sniffs in Ryott's direction, where she is ready and waving a piece of bacon enticingly. With a ear-splitting creel, he bounds forward, grabbing at the piece of meet with baby talons as he hisses. But the young teen isn't intimidated and keep a tight hold on the food so that the blue has to relent and just munch on it while slowly moving closer so that impression can be made.

Finally all the bacon she had brought with her had been devoured by her two new friends and Ryott looks down in the brook of her arms, a soft smile on her face as she feels the happy satiation from the pair.

Looking first at the electric blue, she ponders for a moment before she whispers, "I'm going to name you Trouble." for the way that he kept trying to steal his clutchsibling's food when she was trying to divvy up the food equally.

At the more subdued steel blue, she giggles, "And you are Strife." after the way he kept up with his ear-splitting creeling until he had finally fallen asleep.

Moving carefully, the spyling extracts herself and the two hatchlings from underneath the wagon. With a makeshift sling made from the long scarf that usually encircles her neck many times over, Ryott settles the two blues in there, before she heads off nonchalantly in the direction of the cool fires because that bacon sure smelled good and she didn't manage to get any of it.

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