Who

Mayte, Threvobek, R'xim

What

Threvobek is among a group of Candidates touching eggs. Didn't Safid warn him?

Slight sexual innuendo

When

It is morning of the tenth day of the ninth month of the second turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Hatching Sands

OOC Date

 

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Igen Weyr Hatching Sands

The out-of-doors of Igen Weyr seems a blissful respite from the oppressive heat of this sandy colosseum. Heated from beneath by volcanic vents, the air above the hatching sands shimmers, lending a sort of unreal, dream-like quality to the area beyond even the magic that happens here at Impressions. Despite its blistering temperatures, the sands are incongruously soft, almost powdery, and flat save for the worn stone queen's bower that rises up to break the monotony and provide a place of respite for the doting mother-to-be.


It's just getting to the point of the morning where Igen really starts to heat up. Inside the hatching cavern, Rhiscorath has arranged her eggs in some pattern that makes sense to her, and Mayte stands by her on the ledge watching as candidates file in, glowering. The queen's tail lashes a little in the air, nervous and apprehensive. The AWLM in charge hisses, "You know the rules. Bow to the queen. No running, talking, or anything'ing." Mayte's got an addition, her words carrying softly in the hot air: "And Rhis wants to know your favourite letter. Not why or anything." Okay, admittedly this is a bit strange, and even Mayte knows it, but heck, it's just a letter, right? The AWLM shrgs helplessly and waves the candidates forward to begin touching.

So a pack of candidates comes out with Threvobek's dying sentence about how they got the beautiful sand in here. They just left the door open and let nature blow it in. This convinces a few of the younger ones and the very gullible but the stablehand honestly doesn't know its origins. They clam up upon treading that same sand, bowing out of sync but there's still time to crisp that up. Down the line various letters are defined: G, A, R, never-thought-of-it-but-T-for-my-name (that's Threvobek), two claim the letter L, and so forth. Then they're counselled to be quiet again. Rev looks left and Rev looks right, where to go, which egg to pet. He settles for Murphy's Law Egg, drawing up to it, waving to Mayte, and spreading his fingers wide over the shell. C'mon baby!

As your palm touches the shell, it's suddenly hard, and shaking, just ready to hatch! Isn't this exciting? You've been on the Sands before, awaiting for your lifemate to emerge, and here it is, it's your time, he's just waiting to emerge! Just a few more good shakes, you can tell he's begging to get out and meet you! You've been waiting on this shell because you've felt it, caressed it, heard it singing to you each time you touch the shell… except that the rocking slows and slows, and the egg is silent. Maybe it's just not ready this time. Maybe it's just waiting… Maybe it's not the same egg… Or maybe, you just need to wait a little longer…

Shalnth is off and away from the eggs as the candidates file onto the sands, while R'xim is busy sitting in some shade with a glass of water. Whenever the bronze starts to rumble menacingly his rider sends a glare his way. "Just stop for five minutes, alright?" Gesturing to his bond as if to say 'cut it out', Rix eyes the group and takes a swig of cold water — well, as cold as it's going to get in this wretched heat. Then out of no where there's an audible hiss coming from Shalnth's direction.

Rhiscorath doesn't like this any better than you, Shalnth, but she looks at the bronze clutchfather with an air of 'really?' Mayte just gives R'xim a slightly envious glance - or perhaps it's to the water in his hand. As much as movement sucks in this temperature, Mayte starts to pace a little, watching each Candidate in turn, hands held behind her back so she can't reach out and strangle anyone. Okay, so Rhis would like to pace too - her tail is picking up tempo in time to Mayte's pace as she returns her stare to those on the Sands. The AWLM just watches, arms crossed - he's done this a few times. And that's a few times a lot.

Hatching now!? Threvobek throws his eyes to Rhiscorath and Shalnth, and the candidate body but no one else appears the slightest bit anxious. Realizing he's been tricked, intentionally or not, Rev screws his face up at the egg, heavy on the eyebrows, and gambles on touching the Howling Windborn Egg, first adjusting his sleeves then seeing if merely a thumbprint will draw any sort of reaction from the growing presence within. His right hand starts and ends a salute to R'xim.

The maelstrom hits you with little warning, flinging you around and whistling through your clothes. Until they're torn off you and you're alone, naked and afraid. And then just as the winds reached your breaking point… you're dropped into the center of it, where calm resides. Look up, look around - it's like a tunnel to the heavens, the lie of safety above. You'll get there, at least but first you have to pass the second gauntlet of this storm, the brunt of its rage. Are you ready? Are you strong enough? And just before the winds sweep you back up, you're dropped back onto hot sands, no winds to cool you down…

"Why don't you go find a fu— sharding, herdbeast in the pens?" is growled in a perfect library whisper. R'xim stands up now with his glass of water and turns to face Shalnth who is glowering on the other side of the sands. The looks that are being exchanged between both rider and dragon are enough to kill. But, luckily, they are aimed at each other and at none of the candidates, so all are safe. Another swig of water is taken as the alpha stare down continues and Shalnth is the first to cave with the ruffling of his wings. Crouching much like a sphinx, the bronze settles and just glares from a distance. And now that it's settled, Rix sits back down and flicks a salute to Threvobek.

Threvobek's eyes force themselves shut at the mental onslaught of being within churned through a tornado's funnel. He must have gasped or creaked some sort of noise because Ailamon is staring at him to remain quiet. Hello, big pissy dragon parents. Needless to say, as Threvobek discontinues the encounter, he is not naked. But damn, in this heat he wishes he was. A pause is made to allow a pair of other candidates by without crowding the avenue between eggs, and then he's hot for Triskaidekaphobia Egg, brushing his fingers over it, half wanting to smudge its colors.

This egg… this egg is just not good news, man. It's just bad vibes all 'round. Wanna go walk under a bunch of ladders? Maybe play some sports in the Glass-smith's? Probably safer than touching this egg. You think it's gonna be alright, but you've already met his fellow egg of Murphy. But anything that happens to you after this… the dread should be pulsing in your ears, your stomach should feel topsy-turvy, you really can't blame anything bad hereafter on this egg. Shyuh. Blaming an egg. Good luck with that…

Eyes dart to where Shalnth and R'xim are battling each other's wills but he's also standing in her path at the time so she has to pace around him. So tiring, changing the path. When the bronze has backed down, Rhis offers a nearly silent sigh and Mayte whispers at R'xim, "Everything okay? A look to Threvobek: "Hey, that's…" F'dan's son. But yes, no sense in showing favouritism.

There isn't another peep from the peanut gallery and this pleases R'xim. Aside from the occasional huff and ruffling of wings, Shalnth has settled with his head lowered to the sands so he can be eye level with the candidates. Whirling green eyes flick toward Rhiscorath as if saying 'See? I'm behaving.' Good boy, Shalnth. Rix downs the last of his water and leans back against the stone wall, watching the candidates make their way around the eggs. "Yeah, he's fine now." is whispered to Mayte as Threvobek earns a glance and a shoulder shrug. "I noticed."

Rhiscorath is only impressed because she understands how hard this is. Do you want cookie now? Mayte nods briefly and grins at the taller man: "He'll get used to these. I think Rhis just about ate one that kicked sand at an egg." Grumpy frown, "I wouldn't have blamed her." But remember: People are Friends, Not Food, so Mayte shrugs, "That's one candidate that won't be back." It's a promise. Mayte's pacing has stopped and she turns to stare out at the eggs. "I loved the touchings, though." There's a fond look over at Rhis: of COURSE that went well for her.

Threvobek hurries to take his hand back, his hand and not some hairy spinner. Criminers. He rubs a fingernail until he's sure it's no longer a bad omen and isn't liking the live eel feeling in his guts. He speculates what would happen if one touched two eggs simultaneously, but knowing his luck they'd cross polarity with him completing the circuit and something's bound to be blown up. Absently making a bracelet of thumb and middle finger around his wrist, he looks for a nice calm-looking specimen, one not superimposing him under ladders or casing him in a tornado. Yes, Call Your Doctor Egg is pink. What can go wrong? Reeeeach.

Mmmm, hey baby. Whatcha got there for this egg? Oooh, really? Is that for me? Oh yeah… All the wetness and the whispers turning to moans and then to shouts. Ecstacy, pleasure, thrill racing in your veins again after so long without. It's gonna be a long, hard Candidacy but you'll find something to fill your time. And finally after the the whispers and the enjoyment fades… But something's not right… everything's so taut, it's starting to hurt. It's not supposed to be like this, is it? Oh no, oh no… You'd just love some relief from this… The only relief is being plopped back onto the sands - don't worry, not time to call a doctor yet."

R'xim can't even remember the egg touchings he went to as a candidate — it was that long ago. "Was thinking about heading to the baths and the living cavern later tonight." he says quietly to Mayte. "You mind if I disappear later? Shalnth might feed, too. Depends how this goes." A chin nod toward the candidates and then a glance is given to the bronze who is being very quiet and very still. Must be Rhiscorath is doing a good job at shushing him.

A bath sounds lovely and Mayte mmms, eyes half closing at the idea of being un-sticky for all of fifteen minutes. Her eyes widen briefly at his request, but Mayte nods slowly, "Yeah, okay. We'll be okay here, I think. Could you bring back a beer or some wine?" Rhiscorath picks up on that and eyes Shalnth interestedly while Mayte stares at her, "I'll see if I can get Rhis to grab something before, if that's okay?" The gold will neither agree or deny anything, just watching over her eggs.

Threvobek extracts his hand from the egg, letting it sort of hover as his mind recovers from the…exciteable components of that there egg. He wrings out his face with his hands, sweeping them back and down his jaw uneasily. Someone set up caution tape and cones around that thing. Although, now that the sensation has abated, it was pretty amazing. But under direction to choose multiple eggs, Threvobek decides to cut this losses with four and take his stomach cramps over to the assistant weyrlingmaster to patiently wait for the conclusion.

R'xim concentrates on Threvobek for a moment as the lad touches the pink egg. Interesting choice. The empty glass is set down before he sprawls comfortable in his seat, nodding to Mayte as the visitation terms are negotiated. "I'll bring both." Because alcohol will not go to waste when Rix is around. "Shalnth will stay so Rhis can go whenever she wants." If ever. The junior queen is just as bad as the bronze sometimes. And when the assistant weyrlingmaster starts rounding up candidates, R'xim nods and is slightly relieved that the event is over — even though Shalnth behaved through most of it.

The AWLM spies the colour of Threvobek's face and pushes himself off the wall in concern. He nods to Mayte at the same time Rhiscorath starts to stand, so it's for Mayte to announce, quietly of course, "Out, everyone. Time's up. Shoo." Get thee gone, etc. Rhis is happy to glare at the backs of retreating Candidates before she moves down to her eggs, hissing gently to them. It's okay. Don't worry. The nasty Candi hands are probably not washed often enough but they will be. Shhhhh, babies.

The heat and mind residue from the Triskaidekaphobia Egg culminates to something like motion sickness in the ex-stablehand. He's making an incomplete gesture of 'I'm fine, it'll pass' to their rider chaperon though his face has lost something of its color. The candidates trickle back to the entrance, coordinate a second bow for the clutch parents and dragonriders, and filter out to continue to prove they can win one of these eggs.

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