Who

Brynn, Cayl, Chani, G'tan, Jedi (cameo), Kyrrin, Naomi, Onari, R'xim, Raila (cameo), Selaine, Th'bek, Veresch, Vergora

What

Zsaviranth takes the the Sands — Galleries Edition!

When

It is midmorning of the first day of the fourth month of the seventh turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Feb 2016 08:00

 

cayl_default.jpg chani_default.jpg g-tan_default.jpg kyrrin_default.jpg naomi_default.jpg onari_default.jpg r-xim_default.jpg selaine_default.jpg th-bek_default.jpg veresch_default.jpg vergora_default.jpg brynn_default.jpg

Those are some trippy eggs down there!


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Galleries

Though occasionally cleaned by ambitious (or neurotic) drudges or weyrbrats being disciplined, the lack of Eggs over the last several Turns has led to the Galleries falling into a state of disrepair. Sand can be found…well, everywhere. On the benches, under the benches, on the railings and walkways. There is also the random tidbit leftover from people who've wandered into the gathering place since the last cleaning. A random bit of cloth here, a bit of something that might have been a carving-in-progress once there.


Vergora strides in from the Hatching Cavern Entryway.

And all the dragonriders shiver.

Vergora is a disturbance in the Force.

From the Sands, Diem rushes into the hatching cavern a few minutes after Zsaviranth touches down onto the sands. It was a challenging dash from the inner caverns, dodging people left and right! Still, the junior weyrwoman doesn't look half bad for having just sprinted her way toward the sands. "Oh…" Diem slows to a walk and makes her way over to stand near a bench in the shade, a hand lifted to her chest as if it'll help her breathing. "Sweet Faranth." Give her a minute, she's trying to catch her breath while watching Zsaviranth begin to look for that special spot.

Jedi walks in from the Hatching Cavern Entryway.

Did someone say there was a disturbance in the Force?

Jedi goes home.

Having managed to escape fairly soon after the news flashed through the Weyr, Veresch is one of the first up the stairs of the galleries. She skips up them at a trot, tugging off the incongruous apron over her clothes and making sure things are straight. She looks right and left, then down to the sands where Zsaviranth is sure to begin looking for a spot, and darts down the stairs to prime viewing seats… at least as prime as she can get without scooting all those knot-heavy riders totally out of the way. Hopefully someone familiar rears their head soon.

From the Sands, G'deon has the advantage of having been in the area. Don't mind that splash of ichor down his otherwise dapper white shirt. It was merely a flesh wound. Someone else's clearly. "Couldn't say it better myself," he chimes in all too cheerfully, coming in just behind Diem at a far more leisurely pace. Which, let's face it, is about the only pace he has left these days. He studies Zsaviranth for a long moment, then stands at the other end of the bench, one gnarled hand resting there. "I've sent for the usual things," he informs Diem a moment later with his very best grandfatherly smile. "I wasn't sure what your preferences were, but as I had a drudge at my beck and call already…" He trails off, vaguely gesturing back toward the caverns.

Naturally, Zinakoth wants to see this, as he does with every clutching. After dropping G'tan at the entrance, the lean bronze wings up to a ledge in the hatching cavern, a rumble of encouragement given toward Zsaviranth as he settles. The Weyrsecond himself strides up the steps to claim one of the really good seats at the front, stretching out his arms and rolling his shoulders a bit. From his slightly tousled state, he was a bit busy before this…but when it's time for a clutching, things can wait.

From the Sands, Zsaviranth's movements are labored as flaxon claws dig into the warm sand over and over. The perfect spot for her eggs must be found, although it's a sweeping motion of her tail that allows her body to angle away from the galleries. It's here. This small hollow in the sand where she crouches for what seems like a long moment — is she keeping everyone in suspense? Is she //sure this is the perfect location? Of course. Never question a queen's maternal instincts for when she rises, there are eggs placed exactly where she meant them to be.//

From the Sands, Cuz You Don't Always Got to Have Friends Egg
From the Sands, Blackness wraps lovingly about this oblong egg, faintly iridescent in direct light. Small shimmering yellow dots huddle together in small groups avoiding the attentions of the others as they settle in their clicks. Each grouping has small differences between them, causing each to be subtly unique.

From the Sands, Too Cool for School Egg
From the Sands, Whatever. This egg doesn't NEED all this time hardening. It could totally hatch right now and send sharp splinters of dark green all over this place. But it won't. Not just yet. It'll hatch when it is good and ready. It's just too cool to sit here and take all of this, because, yeah, it's just too awesome.

From the Sands, Kylo Ren Colouring Book Egg
From the Sands, The dark side of the force is strong with this mostly-black egg; dark and emo and treacherous and you get the sense that it might suddenly lash out and destroy whatever is in its wake. This egg has anger management issues. A brilliant electric red 't' shape along the side is the only colour. How sad. And dramatic. White guards flank the black on either side.

It's only safe to assume that Kyrrin, when hearing from a 'rider who was leaving the Gather what was happening, hitched a ride from the very same man. Though she had not time to change - or she'd have chosen less colorful clothing to adorn herself with. Giving that rider a parting wink, Kyrrin slips into the Galleries, and finds herself a seat with which to best watch the action happening below. "Oh good," she says, flashing a grin at Veresch. "We haven't missed anything yet." The Zingari settles into her seat, and leans forward a little bit, eyes intent on the sands below. "Oh! Look at those. How…" Em. What's the word?

Vergora has an escort today, thank Faranth, and it's not one of the usual milk toast apprentice varieties, either. This time she has her arm looped through that of a burly ex-Healer apprentice with a Whirlwind knot on his shoulder. Her expression might say she thinks this is some beau of hers. His says he has to get through the next few candlemarks alive. The two of them make their way toward the traditional weyrleaders' area, as Vergora would have it no other way. Perhaps can't have it any other way. She makes no move to try to stay out of the way of others' views of the sands, imperiously shuffling along in a gown that used to be fancy and is now just old. She settles in just as Zsaviranth gets down to business.

From the Sands, F'in is fast on Diem's heels. "Glory be, woman, yer faster 'n ya look." His eyes go wide a bit at the sensations from Rhakanth. Above, the bronze's harsh bellow is a clarion, before he hits the topmost of the ledges above and springs back and forth down into the caverns to stand as his queen clutches her eggs. His eggs. The bronze is drawn up, banded chest swelled with incipient growl, hinted at by the peel of a lip from jagged teeth. He paces a few lengths, crouched low, tail swishing as he turns to make circuits around Zsaviranth and the first of her eggs. F'in looks to Diem, "Oh! She's started!" Nothing slow about Zsaviranth!

The news is indeed quick to make it's way through the Weyr, and Akitith just as quickly informs her rider, urging her to make haste to the caverns. A more than disgruntled Selaine makes her way up to the galleries once her green has dropped her off at the entrance, joining the rest of the dragons up on the ledges to watch the happenings below. At least there's a familiar face amongst the crowd! Selaine finds herself near Veresch and takes a seat beside her. "Hey," she greets simply before turning her eyes on the eggs just as they start popping out.

Chani was really just here on business - shopping, to be precise - but when Laoyuth informed her that there was a clutching underway? Well, what dragonrider wouldn't come to see the wonderful eggs? Even if it's not necessarily her own Weyr at which to goggle at. Chani finds herself a seat in the back, and pulls the cork out of her bottle of wine. "Well, interesting lot, aren't they?"

Naomi is totally there, too, hovering near the stairs at the top of the galleries. Her eyes are watchful, making sure there's no funny business going on. There's a couple of Reika folks about, which might explain her presence, or perhaps she's just curious to watch her first clutching?

Happy to find herself amongst familiar faces — or familiar enough faces! — Veresch directs a smile at both Kyrrin and Selaine, "Hey! Good timing, you too." She lifts a hand to wave frenetically at the occupants of the sands, though it's doubtful they'll see, and settles down once more, hands already patting her pockets to locate a bit-mark to bet with. It's as she looks around to spot the bookmakers that she spots Vergora, lifting a polite hand to her as well. "Eggs," she says happily to Kyrrin. "Egg fever's about to hit in a big way, you'll see!" Now, where's that bookie? "Oooh, look at that bold black and red one!"

As a lumbering mass of deep blue hide picks his spot on the ledges to watch the clutching, Cayl trudges up steps. It isn't the most comfortable an activity for the aging bluerider, but its one that she's insisted on. She can make it! Really! Just give her a few candlemarks! Before she's even picked out a seat for herself, she hears the commotion and takes note that eggs have already been deposited on the sands! "Eager beast. Wants to get this done as fast as possible, my guess.". Who she is talking to is a wonder, but she's old, so she's entitled to her babbles! Of course, the blue on the heights is likely the recipient.

From the Sands, Diem is too nervous to sit down like she is during every clutching. Hazel eyes are glued to her lifemate as the queen moves about the sands to ensure that each egg is deposited in the appropriate spot. //Very particular, Zsaviranth is. A flurry of movement to her left has her welcoming both G'deon and F'in with a smile. "Thank you, G'deon. That's…" Her attention snaps back to the sands. "Three!" Not quite what she was going to say, but it applies.//

Raila ventures into the Caverns with demure step and downcast eyes, lifting only to more carefully avoid the throng rushing past her for 'the good seats.' Outside the craft quarters, she's a quiet as a mouse and slips in between two folk who either don't like or know eachother well enough to crowd. "Your pardon," she speaks before looking out to the Sands. Her eyes skip to the cavern ceiling, recalling reports of it's instability. Smiths gotta smith.

Onari happens to be making her way through the Bowl, Gola beside her on a lead after a ride up the Weyr Road, when the stream of people heading toward the Hatching Cavern is noted. Of course, she's not about to just stand and wonder what's going on - she'll see for herself, and doesn't have to guess too hard. Hitching her runner by a trough along the way, she makes her way northward to join the throng heading up to the Galleries and spots Veresch at the front rather quickly. Sidling her way through to her friend's side, she puffs a bit to catch her breath, pulling the scarf from around her neck. "Already?" she questions, brows arching high as she looks out at the first eggs to drop. "I'm guessing you haven't been here long." Peering down across the Sands, she stands to spot F'in and waves…then does it with both arms. It's sort of a long way; to even get her brother's attention right now is going to be a feat!

From the Sands, F'in blinks at G'deon. "What're the usual things?" Clearly someone needs some coaching. R'xim is not the best mentor here. GO FIGURE.

R'xim is seated up in the Galleries shaking his head at F'in. Mentor shmentor. He's just relieved that he doesn't actually have to be anywhere near the eggs or the sweltering hot sands after this. Been there, done that.

It doesn't matter that the eggs are too young to be hatching, Tavuqth is humming them alive and to grow FAST. Uncle Tavuqth. His strong-headed heft heralds Th'bek, the rider coming up the stairs to give a catcall to F'in and a few words of general harassment all while grinning like a fool. Is he now eyeing the best eggs to turn into Arroyo units?

From the Sands, G'deon is definitely going to sit, once it's clear Diem won't be. Old bones, and all that. In answer to F'in's question, a pair of drudges appear bearing a wooden cooler filed mainly with ice and cold drinks, both alcoholic and otherwise. There are also a couple small bowls of frozen fruit. The pair sets it down with a dull thud about halfway between the entrance and where the trio of riders stand (or sit).

From the Sands, Zsaviranth moves toward the other side of the sands with purpose. There. Over near the railing is a spot that //might suit her needs for another group of eggs. She brushes by the galleries and pauses for a moment, waiting. Here? No. Not quite here. She moves on, slower this time until she halts and paws at the sand with intent. A low rumble emits from her throat when she looks over at Rhakanth before crouching once again. Heart beats pass and she lingers for what seems like a loooong moment to draw out the suspense. It's all worth it, for when she steps away from her chosen spot, a few more eggs remain.//

From the Sands, April Fools Day Easter Egg Egg
From the Sands, This egg is washes of striped pastel pink, lilac purple and robin's egg blue, with little white flowers and dots until you move, or the light changes, and then it appears to just be plain white. Is this a white egg, or is it coloured? Or is it both?

From the Sands, IDK Egg
From the Sands, Bright. And pink. The first two things you might notice at first about this egg. But then upon closer inspection, there's a mess of other colors in there. Shapes and figures that are indistinguishable. Splotches of blue, brown, green. What is going on on that egg? IDK man, IDK.

From the Sands, Unhappy Feline Egg
From the Sands, A darkened not quite white covers the bulbous top of this awkward egg. Splotches of black darkening to gray lick randomly across the surface. As if irked by its lack of graceful oval shape this egg sends a presence into the world of stand offishness and not caring.

From the Sands, Big Bad Egg
From the Sands, Awash in darkest of indigo and awash with smokey curls of crimson and amethyst, the broad surface of this egg presents an opposing facade. More worrisome still is the lurking banner of emerald curling around the base of the egg and reaching stealthily toward the peak. Beneath smoke and banner lies something more dangerous, hinted at in angled slices of cherry red as to give the illusion of eyes staring out from the oppressive darkness. There is no light, no glimmer of promise or bright future for it is all cloak and dagger shadow games here.

Kyrrin flashes a grin at Veresch. "I've seen this sort of thing before," she comments. "But I am excited to see what kind pop out of that particular dragon." Considering all of the chaos from a few weeks back. "Hello," she says to both Onari and Selaine. "I'm Kyrrin, of the Zingari." Just because…two of the people here might not actually know her name - though Veresch and Onari are at least vaguely familiar faces. "Goodness, look at those ones!" She's talking about the most recent, of course. "That one with the indigo and emerald looks…perhaps worrisome."

"Shells! Look at all that pink!" Chani can be heard (maybe) to exclaim from somewhere in the back. It's pretty obvious which of the most recent eggs the greenrider's talking about.

Vergora grabs a passing greenrider by the elbow, oddly quick and strong, despite her condition. She murmurs a request, or order might be more accurate, then releases the woman to return to watching the clutching. The greenrider and Vergora's escort exchange a look, but the man just shrugs. Exasperated, the greenrider trots off, returning several minutes later with a skin of wine. Because that's a requirement.

From the Sands, Rhakanth rumbles at those drudges and it might be the reason for thier quick exodus. G'deon seems to get a pass, perhaps in deference to his age or respect for (or disregard of) Nylanth. F'in is slow on the uptake sometimes, but with Diem is riveted on her bond and the eggs and G'deon sitting, he gets the chest thunked down and brings it closer, craning to look at Zsaviranth as he goes. He glances into the stands and it seems clear he'd try to wave, but with arms full of chest he just sorta… wriggles. Clearly pleased, though. THUD. "Was that three or four?" He dusts hands and stretches up onto toes to look.

There's a small nod for Kyrrin, "Selaine, of green Akitith," the greenrider introduces, flashing the other woman a small smile. Onari gets a smile too even as blue eyes shift their gaze to the newer eggs just laid. "Quite an interesting bunch they're turning out to be already…" Selaine murmurs quietly. Oh is that her wingleader over yonder? He gets a small wave/salute-thingy? If he sees her.

"'nari!" Happy that, from Veresch, and she shuffles to make a spot for her friend to sit in. "Squish in. Not here long, no — my backside's still quite alive. You know these two, right?" There's a gesture to Kyrrin and Selaine, though it's aborted with a grin when Kyrrin and Selaine start making their own introductions. Her fingers flip-flip-flip, flip-flip-flip at the mark, but her attention's attracted by another batch of eggs that pop out, and her eyes narrow. Her gaze goes from Zsaviranth to Rhakanth - where did that pink one come from? - before her shoulders shrug. "What about that other one?" she counters. "It looks like it can't decide whether it wants to be white or not. And then the pink one? It seems so…"

From the Sands, Diem glances over at the drudges carrying a wooden cooler and breathes a sigh of relief. "I could use some water. I don't care if it's ice or not." G'deon just became her favorite person at Igen for thinking of the important details! Stepping over to the cooler, Diem smiles with gratitude at the pair of drudges before reaching in for a handful of ice. A smaller chunk is wiped over her forehead as she glances out at her lifemate again. "Wow, she's focused. Four more." That said to F'in, of course.

Whether or not F'in sees her, Onari grins and chuckles a little for his wriggling (at least, that's what she thinks she sees) and settles. She did notice Kyrrin, yes, but looks back over to nod at her and Selaine when Veresch points them out. "Aye, they are familiar faces, at least. Good morning, Selaine, Kyrrin!" Aaand back to the eggs. Focal points are precious in the midst of all the bustle. "That certainly is a lot of pink," she notes, looking a bit nonplussed. Is that normal?

Mzadith rumbles happily, always pleasantly content in watching clutchings and hatchings and touchings and just about anything to do with tiny baby dragons lumbering (or in this case rolling) about. Eyes whirl and lazy blue as his head swivels about a bit to track the path of the queen as she chooses spots for her eggs. Cayl, in the meantime, locates a clear spot towards the front of the gallery. "Yes yes, I know dear. Fantastic. Wonderful.". It has the air of having been said many times before, given in amused exasperation. She settles down and breathes a sigh of relief. Then, she turns her attention to the eggs…and squints. Squints some more. "I don't know, love… they're kind of blurry." She raises a hand to rub at her eyes as she says, "Most of them look white. or black.". All those subtle shades of the spectrum just don't make it to her. So, Mzadith begins to give far better explanations in a long string of descriptions of every color and nuance.

From the Sands, G'deon gives Diem a pleased smile in return, bowing his head before going back to watching Zsaviranth. "She's wasting no time," he comments, though it's in something of a neutral tone. He stretches one arm over the back of the bench, fingers drumming there once before he opens his mouth. Whatever he's about to say, however, he thinks better of it and goes back to spectating. It's a hazy role he plays here today. Weyrlingmaster? To whom? Dragonhealer? Just in case? Mentor? Advisor? Acceptable spectator? After a moment, he gives F'in a warm smile and gestures toward the chest. "I don't suppose you could find me some chilled wine."

From the Sands, Zsaviranth might actually hiss after another batch is deposited into a hollow on the sands. She fixes Rhakanth with a look that says something like, 'Make yourself useful and start mounding the eggs!' She wastes no time moving around this newest group and pushes some sand up around them with her hooked snout in preparation for moving onto another vacant location. Flaxon claws dig and dig and… fill back in. This will never do. There must be //another spot over there. Waaay over there!//

From the Sands, EHRMAHGERD Egg
From the Sands, EHRMAHGERD. THERS ERGG ERS SER WHERT. ERND RERND. ERT ERS BEHRTERFERL. ERT ERS SER BEHRTERFERL ERT GERVES MER GERSBERMS!!

From the Sands, Double Rainbow Egg
From the Sands, Whoa, thats a full rainbow egg all the way. Double rainbow, oh Faranth. Its a double rainbow egg, all the way. Whoa thats so intense. Whoa man! Wow! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa ho ho oh Faranth! Oh Faranth! Oh Faranth! Woo! Oh wow! Woo! Yeah! Oh ho ho! Oh Faranth! Oh Faranth, look at that! Its starting even to look like a triple rainbow egg! Oh Faranth, its full on! Double rainbow egg all the way across the sky! Oh Faranth. Oh Faranth. Oh Faranth. What does this mean? Oh. Oh Faranth. Oh. Oh. Faranth. Its so bright, oh Faranth, its so bright and vivid! Oh. Ah! Ah! Its so beautiful! Oh Faranth. Oh Faranth. Oh Faranth! Oh Faranth, its a double complete rainbow egg! Oh right on the Sands. Oh Faranth. Oh Faranth, what does it mean? Too much. Dont know what it means. Oh Faranth, its so intense. Oh. Oh. Oh Faranth.

From the Sands, Chocolate Rain Egg
From the Sands, A tall and oblate ovoid, delicate almost, the depth of rich brown a surprising sinkhole, drowning pool, improbably dry, yet drenched in klah-colored texture. Reapeating. Repeating. Repeating. Harpers predicted this egg's existence, a prison, criss-crossed with cracks speaking to a force within that can only, temporarily be contained.

From the Sands, Water and chilled wine. F'in may be getting his first taste of what the next several sevens will be like for him. He digs in the chest and fishes out a bottle. Uncorked, he sniffs it, gives a shrug and hands it to G'deon. "Lemme see if there's a…" he lifts the lid, looks. Nope. Digs in the chest until his hands are blue and wrests two wooden cups. There's a pitcher filled mostly with ice. This is for Diem. He hands the cup to G'deon and the cup filled from the pitcher. Rhakanth, too distracted by shooing interlopers from the Sands, rumbles at Zsaviranth and stalks onto the sands to begin nosing sand up over the eggs.

"Nice weather for a clutching," Kyrrin returns at Onari with a grin. "Fancy running into you here." Not that the woman is actually surprised, persay. "A pleasure to meet you, Selaine." She eyes that second grouping of eggs, and shudders slightly. "I'm going to try to not think about that pink one," she comments with a quick little smile. But then, there are more eggs to examine and offer opinions on! Kyrrin looks away from the eggs, finally, and then looks back to the group she's sitting with. "That…that egg," the EHRMAHGERD Egg, "What?" Because that egg is in a unique position all it's own. "The uh. Brown one at least seems somewhat…normal." If any such label for an egg exists.

Vergora helps herself to a generous portion of wine and too-sweetly tries to share with her escort, who wisely and politely refuses. Not to be discouraged, the former goldrider settles in to watch, now and then sniffing at some detail or another, though she thankfully keeps her comments internal. It's hard to tell by her vacant stare whether she's trying to have a conversation with Kholeth, or if it's just one of those days.

If the previous eggs left Veresch doubtful, these ones leave her with her mouth hanging open. How to say something about an egg that hits you with a hammer to the cerebrum? Oh, and that other one? Really, it's almost a relief to look at the klah-sludge one, before she squints her eyes closed and tries to look at the other twi again. "Oh Faranth," she echoes, just shaking her head. "I think it's actually hurting my brain to look at that one. Does anyone have wine? I think I'm going to need a little something." This time she looks at Zsaviranth. No way an absolute darling like Rhakanth made those happen. It must be a secret Fortian revenge plot for stealing their queen. Or something.

From the Sands, Diem makes her way toward the edge of the shade while running some ice cubes along her neck. Once the ice has melted, she works at shedding her jacket and tosses it over to the vacant side of the bench. "Hand me a cupful of ice?" She'd do it herself but Zsaviranth has her full undivided attention at the moment. "Thanks. This is helpful." Like, a //lot. F'in is proving to be quite handy in the moment. "She's not fussing too much. I was worried, this being her first clutch at Igen."//

From the Sands, G'deon thanks F'in for the wine and the cup, which he makes sure has no residual chips of ice before he fills it and hands back the bottle. He then settles back against the bench and takes a long sip of the chilled wine. For some reason, Zsaviranth's scolding of Rhakanth makes him chuckle softly, and he actually lifts his cup toward the gold in silent toast before taking another small sip. From there, he just watches, resting the cool cup in his hands against the insides of his arms.

Cayl's expression skews up a little as she hears the descriptions offered, and opens her eyes to try and again pick out the details of the eggs laid. Really, its a headache in more then one way, for all that they are somewhat blurry on the sands, and what she can make out of them is.. odd… to say the least. "Well.. They're not the prettiest things. That one hurts the eyes. But eggs are eggs, Imz. They'll.. well stop staring at it then!". She says of the obvious pain that must come from staring too long into the EHRMAHGERD egg.

Rhakanth is great, of course, but Onari isn't about to place all the blame for the…uniqueness of these eggs on Zsaviranth. Rhakanth is her brother's lifemate, after all. (Hi, F'in <3) With a quick grin at Kyrrin, she gives a little shrug. "I was just passing through," she says lightly, and is about to comment on another of the eggs herself when a green firelizard suddenly drops to her shoulder, chittering nearly in her ear. Not hers, judging by the surprising look Onari takes up and the rolled message tied to the flit's leg. The trader woman takes it, reads it, and rolls her eyes. "Ach, could the timing be worse?" comes her exasperated mutter, and she rises, gathering herself together. "I have to go," she tells Veresch. "I'll have to come see when it's all over. Find me later? Enjoy the rest, ladies," is said to all in the general vicinity before Onari sidles herself out of the benches and down the steps, then out against the tide to deal with whatever urgent matter she's been summoned to.

From the Sands, Zsaviranth slooowly ambles her way around the sands in search of juuuust the right location for this next batch of eggs. She freezes for a moment and crouches, rumbling lowly at until she falls silent. Eerily silent. That is, until she rises and decides that's a //horrible spot for her eggs. It simply won't do! Now over here is a different story and she crouches much like she did before, angled away from the galleries. Moments pass until she rises and moves on.//

From the Sands, I Has A Corm Egg
From the Sands, If this egg isn't the smallest on the sands, it's the second smallest. Perched just so on the fringes there. Buff and cream swaths sweep blended pie-bald patches diffuse in the light that falls sweet over round curves. Two coal black spots glitter, dark inclusions, smooth and bright, above trefoil rose-colored bracts surrounding cheerful yellow corolla. Though small, this little egg asserts itself, claiming space, a sweet and earnest declaration of being.

From the Sands, Manbabies Egg
From the Sands, Eerily displaced, disjointed in its appearance, this egg is hard to look at. Dewey blue gray in a swath of glowing health, fresh and clean, though too large, looming over a grey smear, tighter, rough textured and too small. The mass seems ill-balanced, through the eyes, filling the belly with unease. Then delight. Then unease again.

From the Sands, Singing in the Sky Forever Egg
From the Sands, A pink flush suffuses the body of the egg, speckled all over in sprinkles of purple, with the outer ranges in a darker navy. One end reaches a slight taper, its hue a softer kittenish gray. Its other end, rounder, more substantial, is awash in all colors of the rainbow, blurring, bending, beautiful. There is a sweet and sugary scent to the shell, and to the touch, the egg is warm, alive, near purring with potential, a faint sense that all will be all right.

From the Sands, Sealed Evil in a Jar Egg
From the Sands, Grains of dust and sand obscure the full color of this egg, as though it were some long-forgotten thing. Beneath the veiling brown and gray, a darker green-copper shows through with a fleck of silvery shine. Small scratches of irregular pigment might almost look like writing, but in a script that no living soul could read. A legend. A warning. Something lost to ages. The egg lies cool, dormant, waiting, the promise of something great and terrible.

From the Sands, Over there IS a terrible spot for the eggs and Rhakanth, might just nudge them into slightly better position as he covers them. There? No. Not quite. There? Nope. He rumbles, faceted eyes marking the distance between the current clusters, drawing some conclusions and shifting them again by some wisdom perhaps granted in genetic memory from Pythagoranth, he noses them into satisfactory places before covering them. "Did he… just move the eggs?" F'in looks at Diem and G'deon. "Is, uh," he coughs, "Is that okay?"

From the Sands, Diem leans up against the edge of the small grotto of shade with a shoulder pressed against the stone. In other parts of the Weyr, the stone walls are cool. Here they are much warmer and borderline //hot, which does nothing to help get comfortable. Her nerves are too frayed for that anyway. The cupful of ice is accepted and a small chunk is popped into her mouth and crunched on. "Well. I can't promise she won't ban him from coming down here again." A smirk curves the weyrwoman's lips. Is she joking? Maybe a little.//

"Faranth," Kyrrin breathes. She might move slightly closer to Veresch. "Bye, Onari," she tells the Reika with an absentminded wave. Don't mind her - Kyrrin's just sitting here oogling those most recent eggs, and wondering from what nightmares they sprung forth. "That…that one with the pink and purple," she manages finally, "isn't so bad, I guess." The others? Well. Strange to say the least! "I wish I'd brought wine," she mutters in a low voice. "Or gin." Or perhaps just about anything alcoholic. Those are some trippy eggs down there!

Veresch looks up at her friend with some surprise, but nods and pats one of her legs. "I'll come and tell you what's happened." With the space available she wiggles over so that Selaine and Kyrrin have more space, and props her elbows up on her knees to watch the show. To her delight, the next four are almost easy to look at, and her eyes linger over the Sealed Evil in a Jar egg with a soft, low sigh. "Look at that one," she mumbles to the two closest to her. "It's so restful to look at — I wonder what's inside." Her head tilts and she finally spots a bookie not far from them, handing up her money with a great deal of twitchy finger movements that, somehow, convey the number of eggs she's betting on. "Kyrrin, Selaine? Any bets?"

Someone can bet their buttocks Th'bek's finagling bets without (yet) the money to cover them. But because he's good on his word, more than he isn't anyway, most people still incur bets with the brownrider. After the 'business' portion is done, Rev mingles for pleasure, stopping first by Cayl. "What'ya think, ma'am, better or worse than Oldtime High Reaches?"

Vergora gives the nearby G'tan a cool glance as she slowly siphons wine from 'skin to mouth. Almost, almost she's a shadow of her former self, haughty and self-assured. She then takes a big mouthful of wine and… starts to turn toward the sands, cheeks puffed outward. Before she can begin a spray toward the fussy Zsaviranth, though, her escort manages to catch on just in time and puts a hand over her mouth. This results in wine being sprayed to either side, but mostly onto his nice shirt, now a distinct shade of pink down the front. Ignoring her squawks, the Whirlwind rider apologizes to those nearby, then manhandles Igen's former weyrwoman out of the galleries.

Chani quietly departed from the Galleries after the ERMAHGERD egg was revealed. Spooked away by the egg? Or simply other business to attend to? Both are just as likely with this particular greenrider.

Selaine is horrible at betting. Veresch gets a shake of her head at that. "I will bet that there's more interesting eggs to come." Cause that's not obvious or anything. That Sealed Evil in a Jar egg's coloring makes her feel a bit queasy looking at it though. "Restful?" Selaine questions, tone doubtful.

From the Sands, Zsaviranth doesn't exactly notice when Rhakanth moves around some of the eggs she //just settled. To her liking. There. She will inspect them all later when she has finished with her laboring and can focus on something other than where the next best spot is going to be. Her pace has been set and she feels the urge to crouch once again, which she does somewhere far away from the bronze roaming about with her. She lingers, per usual, before rising and turning to mound some sand around her latest group of eggs.//

From the Sands, Melancholy Moon Egg
From the Sands, An egg of cool colors, small, and isolated. It sits off by itself, half turned away, as though a great sadness weighed upon its occupant. Patches of darkness lend the look of a pock-marked surface, if one were to look close, and a faint exquisite blue and silver limns its greater pearlescent white. If one were given to lend emotion to the egg, it seems to prefer to be alone… but with a secret wish for warmth.

From the Sands, Chain Stratagem Egg
From the Sands, Nothing to see here, my dear, this egg that prefers to be ignored, when so many other eggs might be admired. It rests near-hidden by some others in the clutch, its shell smooth, its color dark. Its surface is a dull black mirror that shows a phantom Igen sky, but muted barely-there, like the distant possibility of another world. Up close it throws a dim reflection to the viewer, that is, if one looks close. Even closer yet, the shrewdest look reveals an intricate webbing of rust-red undershading to the darkness, a mazelike tracing in blood iron color.

From the Sands, Love/Hate Egg
From the Sands, Shadowy lines create valleys of darker striation along this egg's surface, parting the fleshy hue that is its overall color. Squiggles mar the center of the orb, marching from one side to the other in horizontally asymmetrical rows, above which ebon slashes create figures that almost could become letters if one were fanciful enough; looking very hard, one might imagine they spell out 'love' and 'hate' side by side, dichotomous words etched into shell forever. But that would be silly, wouldn't it?

From the Sands, An Internet of Cats Egg
From the Sands, It is fluffy and snarling and lazy and poetic: this egg is not an unassuming egg by any stretch of the imagination. Striated in ginger and grey, calico splotches that paint an almost furred surface that looks so plush and so inviting that it almost aches to be touched. Beware! Sharp pointed coloring within the frame of shell pink might lend the viewer an feeling that perhaps not all is as it should be with this rather large of many faces. Sometimes, the cutest things bite, after all! In size, it is massive - for how else can it hold all the colors of cat? Ginger, grey, silver, golden, black, white, and purest of Russian blue that tips the top of this large, squat egg. Somewhere at the bottom, where the fluffy colors break down, a hint of digital streaming bits wind 'round and 'round to the shell's bottom, consumed by sand.

From the Sands, G'deon can only give F'in a crooked smile as his shoulders rise and fall slightly. "I do believe she," chin-nodding toward the clutching gold, "will let him know if it's a problem. Though I //might advise reining in his impulse to do so in the future. At least until she's done. She's necessary. He is not." Says veteran of more clutchings than he'd like to admit. His wrinkled face crinkles further as he grins, raising his cup toward the other two riders, then turning to watch the next batch appear.//

"No bets for me," Kyrrin answers with a shake of her head. She eyes the Sealed Evil egg, and frowns a little. "Restful? It gives me the shivers, truly." She'll give a bit of a smile to Selaine, however, for the shared thoughts, at least! "This is one of my favorite parts of being near a weyr, though, really. Seeing the eggs." Because they're always so interesting! But then there are the most recent eggs, and well. "Is it just me," the trader asks her companions, "or does that one seem fuzzy?" The Chain Stratagem Egg gets a look, but in wake of the others, it is quickly forgotten. "The one with those squiggles," the Love/Hate Egg, "seems interesting."

On the ledge, Mzadith is actually reaching up a paw to brush at his eyes and muzzle. Really, he's just getting dust out of his eyes, that's all. Never mind that he has multiple eye lids to serve that purpose, sometimes it takes a little extra effort to accomplish. It has -nothing- to do with the Double Rainbow egg, nothing at all. In the meantime, Cayl is chuckling to herself.. and almost doesn't notice Th'bek's approach. When he speaks though, she winces a little and looks up to him. A subtly cloying smile cross her thin lips as she sits up a bit taller. "Well.. nothing quite beats old Reaches stock.". They'd had llamas, after all! "These hold their own, though.". Its her polite way of avoiding saying 'IDK WTF is on the sands, but it ain't right!'.

From the Sands, "Wh-" F'in fishmouths at Diem. "Would she do that? He'd be heartbroken." Haaartbroooken. F'in seems to share the sentiment a bit. Or, likely, knows how much the bronze has been fixated. He looks out over the sands and gives Rhakanth the neck-slashy-cut-it-out gesture, with a chin jab to Zsaviranth, pointing back to Rhakanth and then making flappy flappy hands up and out of the caverns. Rhakanth hunkers over the eggs he's just mounded. //HIS. He rumbles. And they're in PERFECT POSITION NOW. Geographically. Cosmically. Aesthetically. He lingers there a moment snuffling at the sand and then growls, moving along in Zsaviranth's wake.//

Veresch was going to reply seriously, see? But that's when she sees her spirit egg down there, the latest of the batch being popped out by Diem's gold, and her attention goes straight to the Internet of Cats egg. She might be pants at pet care, but kittens own her soul, as Smoke can attest. "I think…" Her voice thins, then returns. "Shards, I think I'm having a moment. I want that egg. I want that egg so much." Her fingers flick away the sadness the Melancholy Moon seems to inspire with its colour palette, and there's a frown at the Love/Hate one, but soon her attention is back on That Egg.

From the Sands, Diem can't help but smirk again after G'deon's explanation to F'in. "She's a little preoccupied right now to care." And given how easy-breezy her rider is being at the moment, the action might not be as dire as people might think. But… the junior queen can be a bit unpredictable. Hence why there are eggs on the sands in the first place. Anyone remember the flight? Yeah, nothing new there.

From the Sands, Zsaviranth doesn't want to move anymore given how much //work this is. Multifaceted eyes whirl a steady indigo flecked with hints of green as she moves closer to Rhakanth, shooing him away so she can get to where she needs to go. She digs in the sand again and pauses her efforts to view the galleries and those looking at her eggs — perhaps they will not notice if she turns away from them again. The junior queen takes her time and strains, hissing lowly and turning her head toward her lifemate in the shade. The glorious shade she ventures toward after four more eggs remain.//

From the Sands, What I Do Egg
From the Sands, Smooth obsidian gleams, these faceted hexadic flickering mirrors juxtaposed lenses reflecting back visions that are, were, will and cannot be. The scope and scale of this egg is hard to gauge, the very perception of it shifting, changing, from facet to facet. It is great. It is small. It is wrong. It is absurd. It is noble. It is truth.

From the Sands, Karate Kyle Egg
From the Sands, Satiny and smooth, slick garish blood red cut in two by a band of orange encircling. This egg occupies its space with a resolute stolidity. And yet, despite the bold color, there is an iridescent melancholy overlain, a depth to the color that invites introspection and reflection, a call to inner peace. And then brutal violence.

From the Sands, Porkchop Sandwiches Egg
From the Sands, Flame-licked, twined orange and red and yellow climb from broad base to kiss pitted iron blackness which swells upward with choking crimson-shot billows. A black smear, a charred heart, darkens one side and swallows the light so that its texture is difficult to discern.

From the Sands, If I Fits I Sits Egg
From the Sands, This egg is entirely too small. There's no way a dragon could fit within it. Glossy and bright, blue and white swirls dance and twist whimsical across the tubby roundness of base and belly, overtopped by a profusion of soft tan and cream and white at the crown spilling down, improbably. This egg might be upside down.

Brynn quietly enters the galleries, her quarterstaff ever present on her back, brown hair pulled back in a 3-part runnertail. She pauses at the railing, drinking in the sight on the sand. Has she seen this kind of sight before? Difficult to say, although she's clearly curious. Brown eyes spot F'in and her dry lips quirk. Then more eggs start coming out of that dragon, and she squints in the bright light, her face a marvel. "Faranth's tits." And she sits down.

"I don't think you get to choose," Kyrrin points out with a raise of her eyebrows, and a bemused smile. "But it does seem rather pleasant." They can agree on that, at least! The father, Rhakanth, is eyed rather curiously for his behavior. "Most bronzes don't do that…do they? I guess it's possible and I've just never noticed, but…" Yeah, the bronze's behavior definitely seems curious. "Oh, look at that one with all of the red." She pauses to consider a moment longer, before her eyes flick to Zsaviranth, and then to Veresch. "I'm not sure I like that one. But the one with the black…that one does appeal."

Th'bek's eyebrows knit together as Zsaviranth shares more of her progeny with the world, perhaps urged by Cayl to scrutinize them more closely. "So long's they give us healthy dragons to blast Thread with." He cracks the knuckle in one thumb and looks over to the bluerider. "Tavuqth is three-quarters High Reaches by way of his sire and one grand-dam, believe that if y'would." There, now he can be an instant Cayl favorite, the ridge-headed, long-fanged beast. "Tell me something," an eye flick to his brown. "Was that look common way back then?"

From the Sands, Diem notices Zsaviranth heading toward her and considers stepping out onto the sands to meet her lifemate halfway. //Poor girl. She's tired and by the looks of her, especially the way the queen lumbers closer toward the privacy of the grotto. "I think this is it." Diem says to both G'deon and F'in. The weyrwoman straightens and watches Zsaviranth turn when she's close enough to do so, giving heed that this will be the absolute last area she will pick to crouch.//

Veresch gives a wrinkle of her nose, then a replete sigh of happiness. "I know. But I don't think anyone would begrudge me wishing very much that I can be up close and personal with it. "But you're right, that one with the flames and the black is lovely, though I like the one that came just before it? Look, over there." She points out the Karate Kyle egg with fervour, though her brows knit as she watches the clutchdam make her way to Diem. "Is that… oh, no. Looks like there are more coming, or it might have been a bit on the small side for a clutch during 'fall?" She looks thoughtful, deciding to check her facts later in the archive. "Oh, look at that tiny one! It looks like it's drooping downwards."

From the Sands, Zsaviranth rumbles while very slowly pawing through the sand to create a hollow for her eggs nearest Diem and the grotto of shade. This is the final location, the grand finale. It's here that the queen crouches and lowers her head closer to the sand, her eyes almost lidding in an attempt to deposit the last group of eggs she will produce this day. Her body rises a bit, then lowers. And after her efforts prove successful, she moves away to reveal one very colorful lot.

From the Sands, Never Gets Old Egg
From the Sands, Brushed red of the most innocent shade settles unobtrusively within the comfortable settling of the other eggs. No bulges or ridges, splotches of color, or rough places. This middling-size egg is simply, completely, and unassumingly normal.

From the Sands, Ain't Got No Time For You Egg
From the Sands, This egg just don't care! It don't care that it's got this bright tie-dye looking top. It doesn't care it's got this dark brown layer. It don't care that it seems more than a little bit stand offish. It wasn't quite ready to be clutched, but dang, it ain't got no time for all the niceness of looking good just for you.

From the Sands, Philosoraptor Egg
From the Sands, Twisting turning twining twirling are bright colors of neon orange and electric blue that stretch over the curvature of a bumpy surface. Smallish in size, yet packed with philosophical pizzazz, the energy crackles around this left-of-center ovoid. It sits, it thinks. It thinks some more. Which came first, the dragon or the egg? Why do we bake cookies and cook bacon? If practice makes perfect and no one's perfect, why practice? If it's called 'common sense', why is it so rare? So many questions, so little time.

From the Sands, Fight For Your Right To Library Egg
From the Sands, Mocha cream twines with tourmaline to give this egg a very bookish coloring. Weathered and worn like the pages of an ancient tome, there are thin zig zag stripes that wrap around its surface like blocky text of days gone past. Crystalline speckles twinkle in the right lighting, glittering promise of a fight that looms just beneath its rough shell. It rests quietly by itself, but deep within is a force to be reckoned with.

The next batch of eggs is much more pleasing to the eye, particularly the Melancholy Moon Egg, at least in Selaine's opinion. But before she can really comment on that one, there's another batch come. And then another! Zsaviranth is certainly wasting no time. "Ah, that one's got a nice color there." Selaine comments, pointing in the direction of that Never Gets Old Egg. "Nice and simple."

"Some of these eggs of hers are rather frightening," Kyrrin muses, glancing at her galleries-found-companion. "But others are almost endearing." Almost perhaps being the key word, there. "You know…I'm not sure. That would be interesting to know." Maybe Kyrrin and Veresch could ask one of the dragonriders here in the Galleries with them! Kyrrin glances about, and then shakes her head slightly. Perhaps not. "Maybe there are a few more?" It's impossible to be certain, especially with this being the gold's first clutch here at sandy Igen. When it's clear that Zsaviranth is about to drop some more, she leans forward again, eyes intent on where Zsaviranth crouches. "Goodness. These are…varied." The Zingari swallows, and then eyes the egg that's not crazy like so many of the others. "Ah, that…simple one, over there - that one looks norma, at least." And not scary, perhaps. She flashes a grin at Selaine.

From the Sands, Diem sinks onto the bench after Zsaviranth announces that she is finished and slouches a bit in relief. "Twenty-six." she says aloud in case G'deon and F'in need some sort of confirmation. Or if they can't count. It's here that she will sit and think about the next few sevendays and what's in store for both she and her queen — egg sitting and lots of it. They are destined for the heat. With that in mind, Diem reaches for some icecubes and runs them along her neck again to get used to the fact. "I wonder if she'll let me get a change of clothes…" The junior queen is resting amongst her eggs much like a feline upon a window sill.

Way back then! If that doesn't make Cayl feel the few hundred or so turns she technically is, nothing will! "I'm sure they will be healthy and hearty beasts. Though there are one or two eggs down there that make me wonder just what will hatch.". Be it snake or dragon, there is a certain tiny shyness to then that alludes to either mischief or inadequacy. When he speaks of his own dragon, she tries to follow his gaze, narrow-eyed and gaze a bit glassy as she consults her own blue on this boy's lifemate. When the image is supplied, she grins, stormy grey eyes settling back on Th'bek. "You haven't looked long on my own blue, Mzadith, have you?". The pudgy, stout and stocky blue lacks any similar features with his rough, primative-seeming decendant. His dark shades and shadows are the comforting warmth of a flame in the night. "Just as today, they all have their own brand of uniqueness.". There's a pause before she corrects, "Or, had I guess."

Selaine gets a roguish grin from Veresch for that comment, and a tickle of an elbow-dig aimed for her side. "Nice and simple," she teases. "But you're right, looking at it makes my eyes relax from that other one." You know, the loopy rainbow one and its unusual sibling. THAT ONE. "And oh, look at that very last one." She smiles mistily down at the Fight for your Libraryegg, seeing endless eons of possibility to be deciphered on the shell of that one. "That one," she murmurs, hands letting go of her chin to pat her knees. "That one rather oddly reminds me of Rhiscorath, you know? It looks like a really old scroll. And hmm, it looks like that's the end of that. The poor riders are going to roast down there as summer kicks in. Kyrrin, Selaine? There's sure to be some kind of party arranged by now, are you going to stop in at the Living Cavern?"

From the Sands, G'deon finishes his wine and gets stiffly to his feet, one hand rubbing at a knee before he straightens. "Well, I most certainly need a change," he replies to Diem, picking at his sweaty shirt, "if not a bath. I think the weyrlings will appreciate both." He taps off a casual salute toward the other two, deposits the cup on top of the cooler, then begins making his way off the sands, mingling with the crowd.

The elbow-dig is deftly avoided as Selaine eyes Veresch, giving the other a grin of her own. "I like simple." Thank you very much. Doesn't make your eyes want to bleed, at least. The Rainbow one just gave her an outright headache. And that Library egg? "Oh. It does, doesn't it?" Remind you of Rhiscorath. Selaine streeetches a bit in her seat when it looks like Zsaviranth is about done. "Poor things." Selaine agrees about the whole summer thing. They'll certainly be hot and toasty. "Party? I guess I could go."

From the Sands, F'in looks sidelong at G'deon, his brow furrowed, "I've been sayin' that all along." To the relative necessity. And then the exhausted queen is settling amidst the eggs. Rhakanth chooses a place where he can survey all of them, eggs and queen alike, while she rests. He folds sphinx-like, a monument, the Labyrinth's guardian sends a wave of bafflement out over the galleries with a growl and a display of teeth. Show's over folks. It may be that this clutch is already radiating that strange wave… Ah, sweet mysteries of life. "Goodbye, Sir. Thanks fer bein' here." To Diem: "I'll send someone fer yer things. Whaddya need?" The drudges weren't chased too far. For them, this is not a new thing and they hurry off with Diem's list. "I was afraid they wouldna break twenty, quick as it all happened. Twenty-six." It's not a grand clutch, but Igen's future all the same. Their new queen and queenrider bound in ichor to the desert Weyr now.

"It's sure to be interesting, at the very least," Kyrrin agrees with a smile. "I don't envy the poor folks who will be out there in the heat when it comes time for those eggs to crack shell, however. "That one…yes, I could see how it would." At least a little bit! When it's clear that there will be no more eggs clutched, Kyrrin stretches a little, and stands. "I might," she remarks, glancing about for the 'rider with whom she hitched a ride. Nowhere to be seen? "I suppose I shall, given that my ride is nowhere to be found." She smiles at Veresch and Selaine. "Shall we, then?"

Th'bek throws his eyes so that may see Mzadith. Try at he might, he can't see much of Tavuqth in the blue either. Huh. Maybe it's that Istan influence. Or Benden's. "Offspring are a curious thing." Might as well close that chapter and see what Rhakanth and Zsaviranth's will inherit of their past. "Well enough, well enough. If you'd like an escort to the feast, then let my offer be the first." He isn't sitting much to the chagrin of those caught behind the wingleader, but then comes up to Veresch, Selaine, and Kyrrin. "Ladies." Bowing at the waist.

Veresch straightens from her spot on the seat and if there's a bit of backside-rubbing to get it going again, it is entirely discreet. There's one last wave down towards Diem and F'in, a frenzied back-and-forth of arms from a rather tall young woman, before she turns on her heel with a quick spinny motion, grinning to Selaine and Kyrrin. "Let's go see about those drinks! And there's a spot inside the Weyr that's perfect for sitting and chatting, if you will, or we can just see what Cremla's come up with in the time this has been going on. And oh look, a roaming Rev. "Wingleader," she greets with a happy twitch of fingers close to one temple. Her eyes dart beyond him with a small smile to his erstwhile conversational companion. "Miss Cayl. Are the two of you coming to the feast as well?"

"Well, I don't know about the drinks part… but I could certainly go for some food right about now." Selaine is up and at 'em, following behind Veresch. Th'bek gets a small smile, cause she totally already formally greeted him earlier (even if he didn't see!). She'll stand just behind Veresch and let the other do the talking for now.

Up on the ledges above, Mzadith almost seems glad for the winding down of the clutching, for he pushes into the air, one of the earliest to do so, great wings pumping heavily to keep him aloft in the steamy cavern. He's out a few moments later, and Cayl pushes stiffly to her feet. She nods to the approaching girls, though at both offers to the feast, she must shake her head and decline. "All of this heat has gotten to me I think. I'm off to the lake with Mzadith. He wants to soak, and I think I'll join him.". Lets just hope that it isn't either to cold or to hot to do so. She loses track of these things easily enough. "Good day, Wingleader. Ladies.". She nods to them again, before moving to take the stairs carefully down.

Kyrrin gives Cayl and Th'bek a smile, and a polite nod. But with that, she's following after Selaine and Veresch. Drinks were mentioned, and food - and those are two things Kyrrin would never turn down. Especially when her ride isn't present and demanding her to leave right now. Apparently, she has plenty of time! "Either option sounds lovely," she tells the other two women. "I'm not picky."

A young brownrider sits down beside Brynn and leans in, talking quietly and pointing out different eggs. She listens, nodding every once and a while - shooting him dry looks every now and again for things he says, which makes him laugh. They look similar, probably related. As the three girls: Kyrinn, Veresch and Selaine pass, Brynn's eyes follow them briefly before turning back to the sands.

Th'bek bids Cayl farewell with reverence and reassigns focus on the three amigos. "At the very least for part of it, and, if you don't mind, I might tag along. Would you like to come as well?" The shaggy-haired brownrider reaches out to Brynn.
Cayl has disconnected.

"I've no objections. The more the merrier, right ladies?" This time Selaine does speak up, peeking from behind Veresch to address Th'bek with a wider smile. Her gaze drifts to Brynn when the brownrider addresses her. An unfamiliar face to this greenrider.

Veresch curiously watches Brynn as the young woman eyes her in passing. There's some familiarity, given how often she hangs out at the Reika camp to bedevil Onari, which leads to her adding a welcoming head-nod to Th'bek's invitation. "Please do. The more the merrier, indeed!" With that sorted, she steps sideways out of the stream of people, choosing to go down the side closest to one of the walls rather than her earlier plunge up the middle of them. Likely so that she can chat and turn her head and still climb down, which she does as she leads the way out. "I lost on the number of eggs, unfortunately, but…!" There she goes.

"Sounds fine with me," Kyrrin chimes in, glancing between Brynn and Th'bek with a small smile. Unless anyone else intends to tag along - well, it's time to get headed on in to see what the cooks have whipped up!

Brynn sits up straighter as she's addressed by Th'bek. "But who else will watch these eggs?" Dry humour, there. "Zsaviranth," comes her brother's droll reply, and she eyes him through slits. She has a slight smile for everyone encouraging, and gets to her feet. "Alright then. Party it is." And she moves to go with. F'llen stayes behind, for now. To take notes on a little pad in his pocket. Maybe he's making tallies on the eggs.

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