Who

A'lory, A'sh, C'sei, Delaney, E'bert, El'ai, Eollyn, Finn, G'deon, K'ane, Kyara, Lendai, Majel, Mayte, N'cal, O'ell, Prymelia, Sacitca, Selaine, Siraji, Tasna, Teyaschianniarina, Thierry, Tuli, Vashae, Veresch, W'rin, Yukie

What

An oh-dark-hundred hatching finally kicks off.

When

It is late night of the twenty-fifth day of the fifth month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Galleries, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 28 Mar 2014 07:00

 

frain.jpg aveshin_default.jpg Alec11.png delaney10.jpg E%27bert2.jpg el-ai_default.jpg eollyn_default.jpg finn_default.jpg g-deon_default.jpg k-ane_default.jpg kyara_default.jpg lendai_default.jpg majel_default.jpg mayte_default.jpg n-cal_default.jpg o-ell_default.jpg prymelia_default.jpg sacitca_default.jpg selaine_default.jpg sajiscuseme.jpeg tasena_default.jpg teyaschianniarina_default.jpg thierry_default.jpg tuli_default.jpg vashae_default.jpg veresch_default.jpg w-rin_default.jpg yukie_default.jpg

igengalleries.jpg

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.


From the Sands, K'ane isn't out here in his UNDERWEAR at least, but he's got his hair akimbo and his shirt is totally inside out. "I forgot 'bout this," comes his sleep-roughened statement as he stumbles onto the Sands edge with the other knot of weyrlingmasters, blearily blinking into the dim light.

The one night W'rin makes it home at a semi-descent hour, when a normal weyrfolk has only been asleep for an hour or so and the blasted thrumming started as he was crawling into bed. And so the leader of the free and sovereign Igen Weyr appears at the top of the stairs of the gallery in barely more than his sleeping shorts. Okay. Only his bed wear. "Bloody eggs, couldn't have managed to rock a little while I was in that unbearable meeting with the holders son." Hopefully said foreign dignitary didn't hear that, as the man bends his neck slightly as he passes him. Finding a seat up in front, where he's massive head is likely to block everyone's view.

From the Sands, Tuli is bathed and DRESSED. It's almost like she knew this was coming; from the causal way she's leaning against Elicheritath's foreleg, she probably DID. "That's my girl," the goldrider says, fondly, looking up at her dragon (who is ignoring her, to hum). "Always doing everything under the cover of darkness."

From the Sands, Teyaschianniarina emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, El'ai has not been left behind here, the boy-bronzerider tucked up against the side of his dark lifemate, who's interestingly watching the people. He'll keep up the pretenses until the Candidates come out anyway. Surely, Elicheritath is getting in on the watching by watching Sekhaenkath watch the others with suspicion. Watching chain, see.

"I won? Did T'line win?" Veresch wonders as, scrambling, she makes her way onto the galleries in just a too-long man's shirt. There's a flash of legs as she starts weaving through the crowd; if the Weyrleader is going to block the view from the front she's sharding well getting a seat somewhere there as well. Besides… better yelling coverage. Finally, with a skitter of limbs she flops into a seat bare seconds before a Trader does, one with a lovely view.

From the Sands, Thierry emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Yukie emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, O'ell isn't all that far behind K'ane. His shirt's untucked and partly unbuttoned and his hair is sticky uppy despite running a hand through it a million times. "I didn't. But still." is his rejoinder, a sleepy scowl on his face. He was very comfortable sleeping where he was, thank you.

From the Sands, Aveshin emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Mayte emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Prymelia emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Tasena emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Sacitca emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Selaine walks in from the Hatching Cavern Entryway.

From the Sands, Delaney emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Alecsei emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, Majel emerges from a little passageway cut into the rock, blinking in the heat.

From the Sands, "Hey, bronzer -" Tuli does know El'ai's name by now, honestly, but it's late so who cares. The young woman holds aloft a bottle of wine. It's in a bag, because she's classy. "C'mere." She gestures at him. "We'll share." Oh, now she's friendly, as the eggs are starting to rock before them.

From the Sands, Above The Clouds Egg wiggles just a LITTLE. Anyone out there? Anyone awake?

From the Sands, You've Got Egg gives the subtlest of anticipatory shimmies. Almost. Not yet.

From the Sands, Sienna is here too, hair a mess, as she takes her place beside the other WLM staffers. Yawn.

From the Sands, Alecsei bows the clutchparents and scoots into the semi-circle, staying away from the other people but near his sister. Not being clingy at all.

From the Sands, I Can Go Twice As High Egg totally has a bedtime story in mind. Maybe not this one, though.

From the Sands, The sea of white that strides onto the Sands comes to a stop, as the lines of Candidates fan out on either side of the entrance. There is hesitation, followed by murmurs, but then. Starting at the side nearest the clutch parents, those in the white robes bow, and the bow spreads the rest of the way down. They all hold their bows a couple heartbeats longer, and then the candidates spread out in small clusters, or on their own, to await their fate. Oh look, eggy eggy, it's fresh meat!

From the Sands, Above The Clouds Egg goes Tap! Tap! Tap! The visible lines of a cracking egg slowly make their scene as the hatchling within struggles to escape the confinements of its prison. A loud crack can be heard as one side of the shell falls away and then another to reveal swirling red eyes from within. It takes another minute for all the pieces of the shell to fall away before a stumbling green hatchling makes her appearance. She's hungry! Eyes are skittish as they gaze at the ignorant little white knotted creatures before them.

From the Sands, Beauty of the Emerald Forest Green Dragonet
From the Sands, Cool and comforting, small and sleek: true natural beauty becomes this little green. Slender and dainty she is, though beautifully proportioned, with the promise of swift feet and swifter wings in the lean lines of her. Emerald and jade intertwine and mingle in the softened fractals of nature's hand across her hide, painting her with the flickering tones of leaves in a forest canopy.



Finn is beside himself. His first Hatching. His lips narrow as eggs that he didn't put money on start to hop and twitch.

From the Sands, Sleepy Selaine is yawning as she makes her way onto the Sands, a bow given to the clutchparents before she joins the others.

Dressed in his pj's, E'bert makes his way up to the galleries and seats himself. He's still wiping sleep from his eyes as his brown adds his own voice to the deep hum of welcome. Oh look, E'bert did manage to grab his knot.

A'lory is lurking, as per his usual, somewhere in the vicinity of a knot of Holders nervously awaiting the outcome of their candidate, as still as stone, looking no more rumpled than usual. Perhaps he's just permanently rumply, or something. At any rate, as the hatching begins, there's a slight, slight smile. Oh, the memories.

From the Sands, El'ai pushes away from the Sekhaenkath's side and tosses a crooked grin at Tuli. "Wouldn't say no," the young man manages to infuse humor into his everything. Getting to the goldrider's side, he'll take that bag — he's a pro now — and be in mid-drink when all the action starts. Pro.

From the Sands, Somewhere in the ninety-something-strong group that minces out onto the sands is Majel, one hand clasped firmly about one of Sacitca's and doing her best to stay within speaking range of Selaine as the candidates finish paying homage to the dam and sire before spacing themselves out. Outwardly, she's calm - perhaps too calm until one hand bunches discreetly at the side of her robe to betray her. There's a steadying breath, then another, gaze carefully set on the forty reasons they're all here. Wait, make that thirty-nine.

From the Sands, Delaney has, since leaving the barracks, latched onto Alecsei's hand hard, she's gripping it so tightly the lines in her forearm are standing out. She totally isn't leading him to a spot away from the others, right? No, never. When they've found their place to stand and be anxious she says to him under her breath, "Don't let go of my hand, no matter what." And don't think she isn't watching those eggs and that… baby dragon.

From the Sands, Toxic Love Egg quivers and shakes as its occupant gets ready to break free. There's scratching from the inside, claws against shell, then a THWUMP - followed by a CRACK and there he is! Or there part of him is, anyway… first one paw, then another, and then with a great splintering sound his egg breaks down around him, leaving Bend the Earth for You Blue Dragonet to tumble clumsily onto the Sands.

From the Sands, Bend the Earth for You Blue Dragonet
From the Sands, Strength resides within the earthiness that crafts this dragon's sturdy form. Resilience colours the stony sweep of his snub muzzle, tempered by steadfast mica's silicate blue along his slender headknobs, and down the ridges that crest the curve of his neck. Lazurquartz cools the vastness of his chest, dull sparkle sprinkling light along the powerful igneous breadth of his built-to-last frame. Paws draw light from volcanic heat, a bubbling surge of violet magma to rise and harden into the blackened pillars of his legs, with pyroclastic smoke bending the curve of his underbelly, along to the tip of his ashen tail. The billow of his broad wings is marble-veined and midnight dark; powerful limbs to stand the test of eternal time.


From the Sands, Aveshin is a much stumbling, somewhat uncoordinated, sleepy candidate. As are many others, it seems. He makes it out there though, and even bows without falling over. At least the heat and thrum and excitement in the air is bringing him around as he settles in that line.

From the Sands, Bright and blinding light after the gloom of darkest night has Prymelia blinking owlishly, muttering a curse as someone pokes her in the ribs, her bow to the clutchparents and their riders a little belated. She's barely had time to shuffle off to the side and the first eggs are cracking and releasing their precious cargo. "Jays, they're in a hurry." No, that did not come out in a squeak.

From the Sands, Beauty of the Emerald Forest Green Dragonet is determined and precocious, bouncing out of her shell and shooting a momentary glance upwards to her MOM. Green hatching first? She doesn't care. With another annoyed look at Looming Elicheritath, she bounds forwards into the candidates, causing QUITE A RIPPLE as she almost barrels into one tall boy from Nerat.

From the Sands, Sacitca gives Majel's hand a tight squeeze and glances about warily. She sticks close to Thierry as well, because Bazaarians find comfort as a group, right? Well, hopefully, because unless Thierry moves away once she's stopped, Sacitca's not moving anywhere. Except to adjust her feet. "Shards, starting already," she breathes. "Look at them, Majel, just look."

From the Sands, It's too early for this. Mayte eyes the blue that emerges with amazement, and a flash of green catches her eye too. Ooooh.

From the Sands, Alecsei uses his free hand to reach into his robe and- he glances at his sister and then he stares at the kid that nearly gets destroyed by that green. And then he thinks better about what he was probably going to do.

From the Sands, "Ah," says Tuli, calmly letting El'ai take the bottle. "No bronze first - bad luck, but I don't give a shit. Here's to this being over with, huh?" The excited/terrified/concerned Candidates are eyed. "Hey. Hand that bottle back." Gimme, gimme.

Siraji arrives rumpled, but not alone: rather than the small sea of people that often accompany her from her caravan, this time it's — a much taller redhead, brownrider by the knot on his shoulder. Also: a small sea of small, sleepy boys. (There's a blond, a fairer brunet, a smaller, darkling darling, and a redhead who's taller than the others by about a head.)

"A green." W'rin comments gruffly to no one imparticular around him. "Some would claim a bronze would be a lucky way to start a hatching." Does the coldly logical man have a susperstitious side, "But she looks good. And that blue too." Don't mind him while he shifts up on one butt side to unceremoniously yank at some cloth that is getting a little to fresh between his cheeks. What little social grace the man has is lost in his half awake state. "Who do you think? Eh?"

From the Sands, Selaine is definitely awake now as she hears the cracking of eggs as they are finally on the sands. She follows behind familiar heads of hair, standing near Majel and Saci as she peeeeeers around them to look at the newly hatched dragonets, eyes wide.

"Goodness, look at them go." There's no way Eollyn was asleep. She was probably tending to Odyn, who's here snoozing in her arms right now. Right, like she'd leave the baby home alone.

From the Sands, Tasena stumbles slightly as they make it onto the sands. Silly sandals. Silly… "whoa." Succinct candidate will take the blue pill, thanks.

From the Sands, O'ell can't even casually lean against anything out here. But, he can fold his arms across his chest and look warily out at the sea of white robed kids (hey, he's old enough to be everyone's dad). "That one's going to be trouble." Yes, green dragonet, he's looking at you. Sigh.

From the Sands, Bend the Earth for You Blue Dragonet is starting to get a hang of this walking thing. Slowly. He steps forth from the shards of his shell, still damp, and gives his wings a little shake. A reminding croon from his dam reminds him of his business here, and, pausing to mug for the galleries, nearly (but not quite) stepping on a Candidate in the process, starts inspecting the Candidates.

Eollyn also has alcohol. Which anyone who knows her already KNOWS.

From the Sands, Yukie slips onto the sands, hands tightly clasped in front of her as the only visible sign of stress. The moment her feet touch the heated sands and the eggs start hatching, the girl settles herself nicely in the middle of the pack. Possibly, she half-turns to seek out Tasena or something else she knows. Teeth bite onto her bottom lip, and deep breath is taken.

From the Sands, Thierry's there, next to Sacitca, looking slightly green and sick as he watches the dragonets.

From the Sands, Beauty of the Emerald Forest Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Selaine, and steps forward.


Veresch is barely in her seat when the dragonets start popping from their shells, and leeeans forward to look at the candidates. "Aleeeeec! Selaine, Sacci, Delaney! Maaaaj! Good luck!" Shards, this stone is hard on the butt without pants. Her small fist shakes in the air as she thunders forth to cheer on her favourite candidates, eyes wide with excitement.

From the Sands, Beauty of the Emerald Forest Green Dragonet took no time at making her selection: that boy was mere foil for who she REALLY WANTED, and it is Selaine she reaches for with a joyous croon.


Vashae is present, and here, but quietly so. She watches, sleepily, brushing errant strands of hair out of her line of sight every now and again.

From the Sands, Majel squeezes Sacitca's hand right on back, shoulders tense. Adrenaline kicks away what residual drowsiness remains from being woken up from a sound sleep. "There are two already, " she says, low, glancing around to wave Selaine over - but the gesture falls short, because there's a green claiming her instead. And the merchant exhales.
"I didn't think they would be so fast," blue eyes wide, "It's like they know!"

E'bert leans forward to watch, "Kar, they're," what? beautiful? Well sure, but really the young rider is stunned by how fast it goes by even from the stands. He's thinking back to when he Impressed, and as a result E'bert's not overly talkative.

Kyara doesn't look like she just fell out of bed, at least - the basics are all there. And she's smiling. It doesn't matter that it's so late; she's always eager to watch these things!

The disembodied voices are creepy!

"I didn't think they would be so fast," blue eyes wide, "It's like they know!" SEZ FINN.

From the Sands, Teyaschianniarina clears the Sands and the milling sea of candidates and the hatching eggs, side-eyeing the latter with a little bit of trepidation before she fetches up beside Tuli. There's no real point to her continued presence, but who doesn't want a front-row seat. Even if it's a pajama-y one. Rickety drools on her shoulder. Hatching-smatching.

From the Sands, Moments after a darting green slinks out of her egg, a pale blue tumbles away from his, shedding bits of shell and egg goo as he awkwardly climbs free. Once he manages to get his wings untangled from his legs, he begins following his sister. Both seem destined for the same candidate, but too late! The green was quicker. After a moment's hesitation, the blue turns to the next boy in line, then creels happily. It was meant to be this way. Really it was.

From the Sands, Aveshin lets out a bit of a breath. The alertness is there, finally at least. "Oh my." Things are hatching, and already there's impressions happening? It's a fast process it seems, but wide eyes stay alert to keep out of the way of any wayward baby dragon feet. Broken toes are not his thing.

From the Sands, Semi-Charmed Egg has remained silent for far too long. It is a song that is meant to be sung. It is more than that: it is an anthem to be screamed. And scream it does, a distraction of rending eggshell and flying lemon-lime debris, the better to cover the exit of one dark-jeweled green. For exit she does, under the cover of the explosion of her previous home. It's no big deal, really. She was due an upgrade anyhow.

From the Sands, Thief With A Heart Of Green Dragonet
From the Sands, Nothing less than a masterwork is painstakingly preserved beneath the smooth dragonglass of this green's darkened hide: a royal ransom carved from living emerald. Bold be her lines, and peerless the placement of pigment upon them! Shadowed jungle preys upon the feline twitch of tail and plush curve of hip, toying between the girlish set of her toes and slipping upwards to tickle at the hollow of her throat. These shady qualities are far overshadowed by the scintillating brilliance of prismatic wings, for living-emerald she is, with sails tourmaline-vivid and neckridges cut of glittering alexandrite. Cunning lies her wide-set gaze, as innocent as it is wild, a thief dressed in stolen goods.



From the Sands, El'ai passes the bag back to Tuli, wiping his bottom lip with the back of his wrist. "Eh." Single sound, single tone: It's all her dragon's fault if this fails.

From the Sands, Bend the Earth for You Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Aveshin, and steps forward.


From the Sands, Feet. Bend the Earth for You Blue Dragonet has four of them, which he can't seem to figure out just yet… and what are these? Wings? Oh wow. And they stretch. Hey look, mom, dad! I have wings! He looks up at his parents between floundering attempts to get to his feet, flopping over into the sand until he's covered in it. Coordination is hard! But each flop, each failed step, each awkward bumble takes him closer to the one he wants, until he stops a mere few strides away from Aveshin and creeeeeels at him. A little help, please?



From the Sands, Sacitca exhales sharply. "Already claimed one." Thierry's hand is stolen, because the other Bazaarian looks like he needs it. "Congratulations, Selaine," she calls to the newly Impressed, giving Majel's hand another squeeze. "Shells, another green. Oh— Avaeshin! Congratulations, Aveshin!"

Jovianth rocks those voices like a pro, yo.

From the Sands, Well, that didn't take long. O'ell just stares for a second, before stepping forward from the crowd of weyrling staff to gesture toward Selaine and her green end enforce that with a voice. "You two… geez, you four." He includes Aveshin and the blue in with his tired, but still commanding (!!) decree. "This way. Over here." And he'll usher them into an alcove where they can feed till their hearts are content.

From the Sands, The Fifth Egg may be a dud. All it does is sit there. What's up with that?

From the Sands, "Aveshin, " Majel repeats a beat after Saci, gaze flicking quickly this way and that. It's hard to know where to look next. Too much motion!

From the Sands, Blink, blink, blinkety-blink, Prymelia quickly sidesteps as young lad no more than fourteen turns tries to burrow behind her. "Oy! There aren't no eggs up there." She hisses when it seems like he might just try to climb under robes. Dragonets hatching thick and fast raise the rush of her pulse leaving the former trader looking somewhat pale beneath the honeyed kiss of her tan. But then, impressions are happening and suddenly nerves skyrocket and find Prymelia edging closer to Thierry.

From the Sands, The young holdbred Harper girl has barely managed to breathe in THREE times since the hatching has started and already the green dragonet's in front of her. Selaine is momentarily dazed as the green looks into her eyes and she reaches out without hesitation to scratch her eyeridge like it's the most natural thing to do. OF COURSE. Her own name is barely registered when people are congratulating her before the girl is leading the hungry hatchling over to the side as instructed.

From the Sands, I Can Go Twice As High Egg makes its final bid for freedom: that little bit that looks like a butterfly breaks away, thrown outward for a moment's illusionary flight. The rest of the egg is not far behind, though: it splits along the rainbow, and brilliant colors seem to dissolve rather than flake away as its occupant emerges. In place of the bright show of color is a lot of — brown, stolid and steadfast and reliable brown; he shakes his head, straightens his shoulders to take his first steps and — stops, to untangle his feet. Just a minute here, hold up.

From the Sands, Call The Cavalry (Not The Squints) Brown Dragonet
From the Sands, He is comfortably camouflaged, this everyman of dragons, at ease from the elongated stretch of angular face to the truncated length of stubby tail. His hide is ruddy-dark, worn snug over a blunt-instrument frame that is broad through the shoulders and lean at the hips. The utilitarian sweep of uniform wings overshadows the narrowed width of flank and haunch and obscures the burnt-umber highlights that bleed out in the yellow ochre of broad paws. There is no hidden glitz in the so-subtle dapple of sunlight over dark-desert browns, no hint of glam in his unrefined carriage or unremarkable stature; he is a dragon without pretense, steady and solid.



From the Sands, Alec watches as eggs explode around them. Alright, maybe just one little drink. Just one. He sneaks it from the flask, then tucks it away.

From the Sands, Thief With A Heart Of Green Dragonet seriously, is there like, egg dust everywhere? Gross. Wings stretch out all the way, careless of the brown that was just attempting to walk past there. This is where she is standing and he can just, like, go shove off. Dust scatters from wings before they fold down neatly again and jeweled eyes look around, then down. Oh, that is pretty. Flecks of multicoloured dust have settled along perfectly clipped (look, some are just hatched perfect), and shine in the light.



From the Sands, Sand. So hot. Underfoot. Mayte's watching the blue that goes to Aveshin; "Congrats!" she calls to him with a wave, and Selaine too - "Woo!" And then a brown: Mayte stares at it, fascinated.

From the Sands, "Wait," says Tuli, surprised: she's looking at El'ai, not the eggs. She is the worst clutchmother. "When did you become interesting, puppy-bronze?" She hands the bottle back, looking faintly miffed. "You could have told me. We could have been drinking out here all clutch."

From the Sands, Thierry's hold on Sacitca's hand is maybe painfully tight as he stands, staring sullenly at the eggs… though it seems to remind him of something else. The candidate looks from the dragonets and new Impressees up to the galleries, squinting, trying to pick out a familiar blonde. Prym's edging draws his attention back down, and he smiles weakly at her, holding out his other hand should she want it.

Veresch is barely in her seat when the dragonets start popping from their shells, and leeeans forward to look at the candidates. "Aleeeeec! Selaine, Sacci, Delaney! Maaaaj! Good luck!" Shards, this stone is hard on the butt without pants. Her small fist shakes in the air as she thunders forth to cheer on her favourite candidates, eyes wide with excitement. There's a covert look around the Galleries, trying to spot friends, but soon she's back to looking at the eggs and Candidates. Then… then. "What the SHARDS are you wearing, ALECSEI?!" she shrieks, finally getting a look at That Sheet.

From the Sands, Aveshin stares for a bit as things happen, and dragons..flop about like fish. Is that normal? It's an odd look on the healer's face..really it is. "What's he..doing..exactly?" A good sand coating doesn't seem good for you. But the creeling gets a wince, and a confused blink from the teenager before realization seems to come over him. "What…Tokath? Alright, alright, don't worry.." He moves forward then, hurrying to help the blue right himself and get him ushered out of the way.

From the Sands, Those triplets from Nabol are tittering over in the corner. They are fresh-arrived — and blonde the lot of them — but seem not really concerned over the hatchlings. They are, instead, speculating loudly at the… height… of some of the older, cute male candidates.

From the Sands, Yukie's fingers tighten together, a step taken back before she can stop herself and possibly run into Alecsei — or whomever might be behind her. The blue, then green, then green again — it's like rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat quickness here. Limpid blue-green eyes do land on the shell of a suspiciously dud-like egg, narrowing. "That — brown." Another one hatches. "Brown." It's overwhelming!

From the Sands, Teyaschianniarina says, "Wait, there's booze?" Then she says, "I will trade you the baby for booze," because it is the middle of the freaking night.

"Greens. Greens are good." Of course, any fighting dragon is good, and who knows what tactical ideas are already racing through the weyrleader's mind as he flops back onto his full seat and gets that far off look in his eyes for a moment before it passes. "At least they are moving fast. No hesitation. Like that in a dragon. Hesitation kills." Faranath help who ever is listening to his inane ramblings.

From the Sands, Where In The World Is This Egg twitches juuuuust a little - so quick as to be missed, perhaps. It might have gone unnoticed…except it does it again. And again. The tiniest movements, as if it deliberately wants to avoid detection. There are too many eyes aimed this way! As though resigned to getting caught if it tries much more, this florid egg goes still once more, only slightly canted from its original place of rest.

From the Sands, Delaney doubletakes, totally seeing what her brother is doing right now. "Are you even going to share?" she hisses, looking a little hurt. And also like she could use a drink. But, you know, she doesn't go for it. Because everyone and their mom is watching.

From the Sands, Alecsei gets bumped by Yukie and starts to choke on the mouthful of water- that was water, right?

From the Sands, Sacitca says, "Oh my, look at them," It's really all Sacitca can say, and it's probably a good thing Thierry and Majel have her hands. Thierry's not the only one looking a little green around the gills right now."

From the Sands, Thief With A Heart Of Green Dragonet steps out of the glittering dust purposefully. Already candidates have been examined and left wanting. Purposefully she steps right towards the SO ADORABLE redhead in that fugly white robe. Wouldn't that red hair just look sooo fetch next to her green hide? Around Prymelia she twines before, bitch, no. Flicking a wing outwards she dismisses the redhead and steps out again, careful to keep the jeweled dust PERFECT on her claws as she steps through the sands.


From the Sands, For a MOMENT, El'ai looks about like he's going to punch Tuli in the face; the bright, brilliant blue eyes narrowing as something like anger surfaces, before he cracks a winsome smile. "Mmmmm. Not my fault you don't pay attention." Acerbic, even!

A bit late - because it's late, and Faranth's sake, does this queen always do things in the dead of night? - N'cal strides in amid a small group of other sleepy riders, stifling a yawn as he glances around first for familiar faces, then at what's already happening on the Sands. Perhaps it'll be done faster than he thought!

From the Sands, Call The Cavalry (Not The Squints) Brown Dragonet has figured out his feet, and fanned out his wings, and now he can focus his attention on the — woah, on the sea of white-clad candidates facing him. That's a lot of overwhelming propositions, there, but he is unfazed — he picks a direction, and starts a determined forward march.


From the Sands, You've Got Egg gives the slightest, subtlest of shimmies. It's reluctant. Like the occupant is busy, guys, and doesn't really want to be stirred. Couldn't you have done this some other time?

From the Sands, It's like a zombie crew right now; assistant weyrlingmasters suddenly lurching towards the newly impressed to make sure they get out of the way and into the bloody meat as soon as dragonly possible. Someone mutters about the triplets, "Just gonna call 'em E'enie, Me'enie, and M'iney".

From the Sands, Tasena has been standing nearly stock still since finally finding a spot on the sands next to Yukie, her eyes moving as eggs wiggle and dragonets make their appearances. Impressions are watched with fascination while her feet shuffle on the hot sands. "Never watched one of these from down here," she mutters the candidates beside her while her attention shifts to the brown with the fanned wings.

Better late than never. Out of breath but, it seems, not out of time, Southern's Senior Weyroman makes it to the hatching. Lendai scrambles up into the galleries, weaving around people in her way to try and find an open seat. Of course all eyes are on the sands below, so it makes her moving about even more diffcult. There is a decent amount of shoving and some disguntled noises from the goldrider. "Let me through, you oaf! Just… urg! Why do they stand in the walkways." FINALLY Lendai finds a decent enough seat that she rests her dainty little rear. Leaning towards those sitting around her, she asks, "What have I missed? Did the gold egg hatch yet?"

From the Sands, Without a moment of hesitation, streetcred be damned, Prymelia takes a hold of the hand Thierry offers her, hand trembling and palm clammy. And then she's being eyed and inspected by a snooty little green. One half of her screams RUN while the other is riveted by fascination. Breath expelled in a rush when the hatchling moves on. "Oh thank, Faranth." She croaks. With perhaps a touch of disappointment? Not a chance! Shoulders back!

From the Sands, Yukie finally finds her balance after knocking Alecsei off his. "It's utterly different than I imagined." And yet, fascinating.

The Lord Holder of Southern Boll had been rumored to have offered his Holding and Lorship to a person who created a list of all the eggs, what color they would hatch and to which candidate they would Impress. For a small fee, you could submit your choices. The odds were astronomical, right? But how could anyone resist? Miraculously, Finn had.

From the Sands, Poor Tuli, interested far too late. "Oh, go fuck yourself," she tells El'ai, with a snort. "Elicheritath, can you -" The gold IS NOT LISTENING. Unlike her human counterpart, she's being a good mom, crooning encouragement to her offspring, giving them little wing-rustles of love.

From the Sands, Call The Cavalry (Not The Squints) Brown Dragonet is getting right in there, isn't he: all shoulder-shoulder against a tall boy from Crom, a casual wing-jostle to move aside that native-Igen girl. He's not mean about it, as he makes his way through the thick of the crowd, but he is — determined. Dedicated. A little bit clumsy over those big paws of his, but so-far he's managing to keep himself out of trouble. How bout a little tro— oh, no, still not actually his target.


From the Sands, El'ai throws Tuli a finger. "Honey, I don't have to." UNLIKE YOU, this implies.

From the Sands, Alecsei uses Delaney as a holding point as he chokes on his 'water' after bumping into Yukie. "You can have some now." He tells her with a hoarse voice. Not fun to breathe the stuff in.

From the Sands, Eggs crack and dragons spill out onto the sands: green and blue, green and brown, green and green. Lots of greens. It seems like MAYHEM for those living in the midst of it!

From the Sands, Majel shifts her stance from one foot to the other. There's a hard swallow, a moment where she scrunches her eyes shut hard and re-opens them in an attempt to get reoriented. It doesn't help much, if that firming of her chin is anything to go by.

From the Sands, "I am going to drown you in a bath." Tuli sounds genuinely amused.

From the Sands, Thief With A Heart Of Green Dragonet stops. Turns. Gaze goes upwards, then downwards, then upwards. OMG. Rolling her hips in a perfect sway she flicks her wings once and lifts her head just a bit higher. Right towards Alecsei- her target. But, oh bitch, you are not mooching on her territory. Picking up her pace without losing a single beat she flicks her tail across the eyes of another green about to make a move, sending the poor little thing stumbling into another group of candidates. Right in front of Alecsei she pauses, then lifts one sharp claw to the neckline of his white robe and purposefully rips it all the way down. An examination occurs, this time even more detailed than before. Approval.


From the Sands, Thief With A Heart Of Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Alecsei, and steps forward.



From the Sands, Delaney is going to say something to her stupid brother but then that green dragon is coming. She stares at her as she approaches, stares as that talon rips down his tunic. And stares some more.

From the Sands, Brown, green, blue, bronze, so many colours: Mayte just watches them move, stock still, shifting from foot to foot. It's hot darnit. Still, she watches the little green circle Prymelia, and lets out a breath as they don't meet - "It'll happen," Mayte tries to be encouraging, in her own way. And hey, she's on her ow… "Alecsei!" Can we get a woot woot?

From the Sands, K'ane opens his mouth, closes it. He's in the middle of helping a blueling pair and he even pauses — "Did th' kid who Dhioth puked on just Impress?" he could have SWORN he just saw a flash of… unnecessary man-junk :(

From the Sands, Where In The World Is This Egg seems to have… a few more bulges all of a sudden? It certainly looks a little more suspicious than normal - oh. Oh yes, there's another…and another… This ruddy ovoid is through being still, twitching, twitching, twitching as bulges grow and cracks strain scarlet threads and bug out those white eyes to comical proportions. Suddenly, it all unravels in one great spiraling split, azure angles dark and sharp breaking through to open air. Soon enough, unwieldy wings are flicking goo from a blatantly boxy blue frame, crimson confines strewn in shambles around the chiaroscuro newcomer they once contained.

From the Sands, Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet
From the Sands, The rumpled drape of trenchcoat wings wearily wraps the seamless structure of this creature of contrast, this blue's blue, this rough-edged midnight marvel marked by the fog of a different age. Self-possessed are the shadows cast down cigar-chewing snout by cannily-canted eyeridges, all the better to ill-obscure a canvassing gaze leveled by narrowed eyes. Lean-limbed but for the boxy bulk of serviceable shoulders, his cloth is cut a little too-long through the frame, though he's as far from gawky as sharp-angled headknobs are to the sprawling length of his tail. He's seen it all, this midnight-blue, and wears such jaded experience as well as he does the subtlety of pinstripe patterning, all but obscured beneath the washed-out illumination of weatherbeaten wings.



Veresch Stares. And stares, as that green riiiiips down the impromptu sheet covering Alecsei. Yes, of course she looks. Finally, breathlessly, hilariously, there's a cackle of mirth, which soon spills up and out and all around her.

"Southern Weyrwoman." Because dainty ass just sat in the generally vicinity of giant ass. "Lots of green, a few blues and a couple browns so far." As for the gold, W'rin doesn't mention the thought of it, because why tempt luck. And just to top off his general social demeanor at being awoken at this hour, he gives himself a good scratch.

Vashae says, "GOodness. That poor boy." She sounds more amused than anything. Really, she's just…very amused. "Looks like an interesting bunch so far.."

From the Sands, The Fifth Egg could almost be CONFIRMED as a dud. All this chaos around it and it is doing nothing. Lump. Lump on a log. Nothing to see here… this is not the egg you are looking for.

From the Sands, A tall boy with startling, prematurely greying hair straightens abruptly as a chubby, dark green spills forth from But Only With A CIGAR Egg; as she quizzically gazes up at him from her spot low on the Sands, his hoarse voice comes loud across the Sands: "I did not have relations with that other egg, Monicath!"

From the Sands, Teyaschianniarina is staring, and baby-jiggling, and giggling, helpless snorting snuffling laughter that she tries to muffle behind her hand. "Yes," she answers K'ane, "pretty sure that's exactly what just happened."

From the Sands, O'ell thinks that's the first time he's seen that happen. A male candidate having his clothes ripped off by a green dragonet. Maybe he rocks on his heels a bit, and maybe he snorts back a laugh. "Sure did. Apparently she wanted to be sure she was impressing to a dude, too. A-maz-ing." Okay, maybe he laughs a lot now. Like, really loudly, before he can clear his throat. "Over here, son! Let's get your little green she-dragon some food. And, cover your junk. Before one of the other dragonets thinks it's part of their meal." Yep, he thinks he's funny.

"Interesting blue," E'bert's talking more to himself than to anyone else. It's a habit he's picked up since Karkath claimed him. From somewhere not too far off Karkath rumbles into the night, "Yeah," is all he says in response to whatever the brown has said to him. His eyes still locked on the unfolding scene below.

A'lory turns his head slightly at the sound of a familiar voice, long unheard. Brow arches, briefly, as Lendai just plops herself right down, completely at home. Smirk. That's his clutch-mate: always perfectly unconcerned with propriety. Ah, well. Perhaps he'll sidle in that direction in a bit. For now, there's a graniece to watch over, even if it's from afar.

From the Sands, "Is there any wine left?" says Tuli, hopefully, of El'ai. She gestures at poor, debached Alecsei-that-was. "I need to drink that imagery away from my mind."

From the Sands, Yukie has, thus far, been watching the flurry of chaos and activity within a relative wellspace of calm and accord. That is until the ferocious little green comes and takes center stage for Alecsei. "Oh, Alecsei…" Just got green. Hi, Tasena. Yukie might come and press closer to her fellow Candidate's side. "I'm lost," she confesses in low whisper with eyes tilted downward to grapple back her center.

From the Sands, If that little green is going to make a spectacle of her new rider, then Prymelia is going to look, and tilt her head to one side and INSPECT! "Way to go, Alecsei!" That's because he impressed right and not because of his, erm, assets? Smothering a snicker and glancing away, hazel regard lands on that one egg in particular that she had been so drawn to. A whisper of sadness winds about her willowy frame when it remains still as stone. "Come on, little one." Whispered beneath her breath.

From the Sands, Majel glances briefly at Alecsei - and abruptly wrenches her eyes back to the newest arrivals instead. "That could not have seriously been necessary for her to make an informed decision, Saci." Could it?

"O…oh my!" Lendai gasps suddenly as a ripping is heard in the direction of one green dragonet and one male candidate. That gasp turns into a girlish giggle as she's covering her eyes a moment… just to peek through her fingers. The moment of immaturity disappears suddenly as Igen's Weyrleader answers her earlier question. "Weyrleader," Lendai tips her head, ever so regally. "You have Southern's best wishes. Lots of greens, you say?" The goldrider steeples her fingers together a moment. "Well, that'll keep the boys happy, at least." Eyes scan over the sands, "Oh! Oh! That's one of ours!" Her finger points towards Prymelia. "GO PRYMELIA. GO GET YOU SOME!" It's like a sporting event. Who wants to do the wave?!

From the Sands, Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet 's narrow red gaze takes in the gaggle of white-robed onlookers, each one held in quick but careful scrutiny as facts are gathered and deductions are made - for what else could be going on behind such a keen regard? He'll just step out of the midst of these shells to get a better view of the scene, maybe take a couple steps closer to grab a few more details…but otherwise, he's not ready to go on the prowl just yet.



From the Sands, You've Got Egg is starting to rock in earnest, now. It's ALMOST time. So close. Almost, almost - lost connection?! Aw, c'mon!

From the Sands, Ahahah, a flash of man-junk? Nope. It's a full on show of man-junk. And also, C'sei's flask totally falls into the sands. But he forgets about it for now, "I actually am feeling sort of drunk." But that's probably because he's a young borderline alcoholic and, well. Also he's probably feeling kind of naked, but that's not important now. His fingers loosen in Delaney's until he's letting go, pulling away to put his onto the green's shoulder. "Faenwyth." And there, done. Impression made. Can someone get him some clothes now?

From the Sands, "Actually," El'ai might find Tuli redeeming by her quest for more alcohol. "I snuck," stole, "Some of the Cantina owner's best juice." And what's that? Something contained in a bottle with indeterminate lettering, which he just HAPPENS to have on his dragon.

From the Sands, Tasena isn't hard to find. Hi, Yukie. "So many eggs. Dragonets. Shells," she mutters back, watching Alecsei impress to… "huh." She's again distracted by the brown who's muscling his way through their crowd. "I liked his egg," she announces to no one in particular. Feet are burning. Brain is buzzing. Random stuff comes out as words.

From the Sands, Sacitca's eyes widen in surprise at Alecsei's Impression, and looks away as well. She might now be blushing brightly. "I don't think it was, Majel," She agrees, even as she gives both hands she's holding a squeeze. "Congratulations, Alecsei!"

From the Sands, "You're my favorite." Tuli and El'ai have finally found their common ground, it seems. "Bronzerider, your hidden depths are a pleasure to discover." Pause. She holds out a hand. "Gimme, gimme, please."

From the Sands, Call The Cavalry (Not The Squints) Brown Dragonet has made a few rounds, has done his recon, is getting more than a little bit tired of this whole … hatching … business. He bypasses a group of candidates, trudging endlessly onward — then hesitates, one paw in the air. He is not a dragonet of hesitation, he is a dragonet of intuitive forward leaps — but this one he takes backward, backtracking toward a pair of girls. He gives the blonde a once-over, assessing sort of look — but then turns, unerring, to the lean brunette with the fierce hazel eyes. There she is.

From the Sands, Call The Cavalry (Not The Squints) Brown Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Tasena, and steps forward.



From the Sands, The Fifth Egg dud-dud-dudleys over in the corner. But is there … is that … what is that?

From the Sands, "Alec," Delaney says softly, her hand falling to her side and then forming a fist around her robe. "Um. You're pretty much naked." Just so he knows. Not that he's listening.

From the Sands, My Name Is… Egg rolls around ANGRILY. Soon enough it hatches a skinny, milk-light brown, who swags across the Sands awkwardly and comes to land in front of a young native Igenite. With a cry goes Saelim — now S'lim, "Shadyth is his name!"

From the Sands, How did Mayte end up surrounded by girls? She was alone five seconds ago and suddely got entrapped. And one guy. Who gets a strange look. A longing look to the little cluster of other Candidates and Mayte spots it: "Tasena. Congrats." As if she can be heard over the girls who are cheering the lanky girl on.

"That ain't right." W'rin exclaims as he slaps a hand over his eyes, "I bet no one put marks on stripped by hatchling." Still as he assumes that it is safe his face is slowly uncovered. "Aye. The boys need a release, eh? Let 'em get too wound up and mistakes happen." Because dragon-sex is perfectly natural small talk. "What fuck is that?" The weyrleader looks none too amused by the shennanigans pulled by that hooligan of a brown on the sands.

The messenger, still not done laughing, finds someone nearly as loud as she is in the form of Southern's Lendai. There's an approving sort of look - good lungs, lady! - before she leans to grip at the hard stone underneath her, eyes wide. "Show it off!" she catcalls in poor C'sei's direction, eyes merry. "Congrats!" Then, eyes wide, Tasena and that brown, and another look, this time at the Weyrleader.

From the Sands, You've Got Egg rolls. It rocks. But by thunder, the connection just WILL NOT STAY. Dialing… dialing… C'mon, it has very important browsing to be doing here!

From the Sands, Majel's grip tightens about her own robe again, even as she cranes her head slightly to watch the progress of the brown. "He - Was that Tasena?" There's another deep breath drawn to steady herself.

From the Sands, Yukie finds the calm within the storm at Tasena's side, but it lasts for only so long when the girl's once again left to her own devices. Stepping back, she glances about to the sea of shimmery faces made flushed by the heat of the sands. In a moment of fancy, the Candidate-Healer leans down to pick up a bit of eggshell, turning it over with the tips of her fingers. Until fascination wanes and she grips the eggshell and backs up. "Congratulations," she offers in gentle quiet to Tasena. Oh, is that Mayte there? Hi. New Friend? [ ] Yes, [ ] No?

From the Sands, The Fifth Egg has fallen to the last pinprick of eternal light; the shadow reigns supreme upon the curve of shell. All is still, all given to the dark, all-satisfied. There is the subtlest sense of gloating — of pervasive triumph — before a grim crack of grey light shatters the certainty. Another, another, another: the being within will not tolerate this imbalance, this ending. As the egg shatters from the force of determination within, a jade-mantled figure steps forth with damp wings held carefully aloft, and grim-masked determination.

From the Sands, Celestial Conqueror Of Chaos Green Dragonet
From the Sands, Serenity in silvered shadows sweeps the fine bones of a graceful countenance, ancient wisdom whirling slow in jeweled eyes: what is to be seen is mere mantle for the soul within, but exquisite be this living vessel! Seafoam crests parlous over diminutive neckridges, crashing down lithe neck only to froth high along the bones of her wings. These spumes of spindrift frame well the fragile sweep of ethereal wingsails, gossamer-thin and glowing as if touched by sunset's sorrow over ice that will not melt: for indeed the muted tundra of frost-laced juniper claims ice-rimed the elongated refinement of lean body, from her dainty forepaws to sleek-slither of tail. Truly, the whole of eternity is wrought ageless in her lissome lines, immortality imbued in jade-hewn splendor.



From the Sands, "Hey, is anyone listening? Someone get the kid.. I dunno. A loincloth or something yeah?" O'ell, suddenly demanding as some of the drudges hauling in more meat just stop and stare. "You can't tell me you haven't seen one before." He adds, dryly, transferring the naked weyrling and dragonet over to the next weyrlingmaster in line so he can extend the daisy-chain to Tasena next. "Brownrider. This way."

Siraji is totally crowing, sleepy-obnoxious, and making gimme gimme hands at her brownrider cohort. Hand over dem marks, pls.

Sure, sure, she can have those marks. But he sticks his tongue out at her, too. (Two of the kids copy him.)

From the Sands, Sacitca's grip tightens on Majel's hand again, "I believe it was…" Her tone is surprised, though with Tasena being far enough away, she doesn't call out to her.

From the Sands, Prymelia fairly beams when the little brown comes to a halt before Tasena. "I knew she'd do it." Warmth infuses the smile she sends her fellow Southerner as well as a trickle of melancholy for the imminent parting of their ways. And then….Did the little egg just move? A surge of hope and her grip tightens about Thierry's hand as she wills survival upon its occupant. "Ohhh…" She breathes. "I just knew it would be something beautiful!"

From the Sands, Someone gives C'sei some clothes. Or a cloth. Or something. Because he does eventually leave the sands with his lifemate and he's not completely naked when he does so.
From the Sands, You've Got Egg is almost there. ALMOST. So close to - who is on the telephone at this hour?! Come ON.

From the Sands, Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet slowly starts forward. Hmmmmm. Hmmm, hmm, hm. He caught a scent, a glimpse of something promising somewhere just over there… but it's being elusive. He's got to track it down, so this whole standing here takin' it all in thing isn't going to cut it anymore. He carefully carts his gawky form past a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed Vintner and gives her a good, measuring look before moving on. Sorry, doll - you're close, but you're not who he's lookin' for.



"Well! I wouldn't expect anything less from Talicanitath's daughter's clutch!" Oh, wait? You all didn't realize this is actually ALL about Lendai in some form? Well now everyone knows. "Good, strong dragonets! With… interesting choices… what just fell onto the sands from that naked lad?" A burst of laughter bubbles from the Weyrwoman, a look to her side as a younger woman catcalls out to the poor candidate-turned-greenrider. "Have many bronzes clutched? I feel like I haven't seen a single one yet. Though shards, it's always so different watching from up here than down on the sands."

From the Sands, Disengaging from her current group, Mayte takes a few steps back, and O hai, there's Yukie: Y. Totally. Mayte is reaching towards the calm woman like a lifeline as a blue moves past - sure, maybe Mayte gives him a long look, and maybe she doesn't. Maybe she tells him to take to the air. Probably not. Still, there's Yukie and the dark girl lets out a breath with raised eyebrows and uncertain smile.

From the Sands, Tasena is stunned, simply put. But then the smile begins. Widens. Morphs into an awfully crooked grin. "Hey there, Tseylath. Are you tired of these sands yet? My feet are. Let's…" Oh right. No need to actually speak, right? Weird. She gestures, anyway, then lays a hand on the baby brown's head as they start circumventing the rest of the action to move off to the side.

From the Sands, You've Got Egg spins in a slow circle, then stops abruptly. It starts spinning again, slowly at first and then faster and faster and FASTER, before jerking to a second stop. Oh boy. Looks like we've got a read error. There's a THUMP on the shell — did that come from the outside? — because everyone knows that one solid whammy of an enraged fist against whatever doesn't work MAKES it work, right? It starts to spin again, slowly, then suddenly picks up speed as if it never had a problem before. Stupid eggs. So unpredictable. One minute they don't work, the next they are flinging out, unceremoniously, egg-wet gold dragonets.

From the Sands, Hither The Hippotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic Gold Dragonet
From the Sands, Lettered and feathered, ink-smudged and gilt-edged; leatherbound she is, the pages of her eternal soul bound by mortal hide glowing amber and bold, inkstained and gold. Jagged headknobs crown her crassly, fit plumage for round-cheeked regard both steady and stern, inheritance of heirloom lore born upon a brilliant brow. Tidy be the catalogue of her neckridges, filed neatly over terse neck, and fine the scrimshaw filigree of fanciful feathers that emboss the aged-leather lustre of haunch and hind. If all knowledge is worth having, priceless be the dark script upon her wings!, a living epitaph woefully foreshortened by the gilding that claims bright their leading edge. But faded is the translucent vellum of her wingsails, ancient and careworn; yellowed as if from the caress of a thousand hands.



From the Sands, Yukie's attention was on the press of shell to the meaty parts of thin fingers or to the sudden shuffling towards Mayte, a face she's familiar enough with to find succor against, but then the egg moves. The egg-that-was-not-a-dud and she finds herself caught with eyes sweeping across the seafoam length of eternity. The shell bit slowly falls to the sands as the girl's back straightens. The inner calm is felt once more; enough that she's able to turn to say, "Whatever they might say, these parents breed some— " Words are cut off when the, the egg hatches. Still, the draw of her eyes is not to the gold, but to Eternity. Breath held.

From the Sands, Celestial Conqueror Of Chaos Green Dragonet doesn't have to sort herself out: she had that figured out from far before any human eyes laid upon her damp hide. Self-possessed and serene, she moves forwards with chaos chained to every seafoam step, every jade judgment. Speaking of being weighed and found wanting, her eyes slide as water over rock, passing the line of candidates left with a certain deliberation. There is much to learn, much to see, much to absorb.



From the Sands, Sacitca has no words when that gold egg cracks shell, merely grips the hands she's holding tighter.

"A GOLD! A GOLD!" That's Lendai, screeching like a harpy, jumping to her feet, and pointing vigorously. "ELICHERITATH MADE A GOLD! TALICANITATH MADE A GOLD THAT MADE A GOLD!" Arms are thrown up into the air. V FOR VICTORY.

E'bert gives a low whistle as the gold dragonet breaks her shell, "Wow," is all he can say, then he leas closer all the better to see what's going on down on the sands. There are so many eggs, and they're cracking so fast. Had his own time on the sands gone by so fast? Of course, he was in the thick of it so it just didn't seem that way.

From the Sands, There's another hard swallow from Majel as Igen's newest queen emerges. Her own grip tightens on Saci's hand, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. How she manages to keep her expression otherwise unruffled is a mystery.

From the Sands, Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet pauses… Ahh, there she is - right over here! A likely clump of potential cohorts is zeroed in on, and off goes Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet, all self-assured and swaggering juuuuust a little…which isn't working so well with those big bloody wings; what do you do with these things, anyway? So every gawky motion and befuddled squawk seems to question as he continues onward. Maybe if he just flaps a little he'll get it figure- nope. Noooope, that just messes with the balance, and down goes a midnight blue nose into the dirt as a wing fouls on a back foot - right in front of the slim, hazel-eyed tailor woman - his mark, for all his bumbling didn't help to make it obvious. A crimson gaze turns up to her forlornly with a disgruntled grumble muffled in the sand. Hi. Give a guy a hand?



Veresch's chuckles finally subside, and she sighs long and low for the beautiful green on the sands. There's a moment of confusion, then a jump, and she eyebrows … holy hellaciousness, she has no ears left now. Scooting a leetle off to the side, she starts cheering as well, surely one of the louder spots on the galleries. "Come on!" she shouts, one fist pumping in the air. "Get her, girls, get her!" Or is it the other way around?

From the Sands, "That's my girl. It WAS a gold." Tuli hugs Elicheritath…'s leg, as it's the nearest available thing. The grown queen makes a crooning noise of pleasure.

From the Sands, Acapella ACME Agent Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Majel, and steps forward.


From the Sands, Hither The Hippotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic Gold Dragonet pauses to shake (shake shake) the shards of her egg off her feet. Ugh, says her body language. So UNTIDY. Briefly ignoring the fading tumult around her, altogether oblivious to the attention she's getting, she pauses to inspect one largish gleaming piece, rounded face awash in curiosity. She nudges it with a damp claw, DEEPLY intrigued. But hunger pangs finally draw her from it, and she looks up. There's a pack of girls nearby; she'll just slide on over there, shall she?



"Not one." Is W'rin sounding mildly defeated, well at least his dragon didn't make that clutch. "Sit down woman! Don't scare the thing before it takes! Faranth tits, the last thing I need is another dead gold." However, in the midst Igen's weyrleader has also leapt to his feet, arm spread as he leans spontaneously towards Southern's Weyrwoman for a hug, if she doesn't deck him first.

From the Sands, Sacitca freezes when the blue comes nearby, and releases Majel's hand quickly. "Congratulations," she says softly, nudging Thierry to the side to give the pair room. Just in case the rumors of violent dragonets are in fact true.

From the Sands, "Hey, hey, hey," Teya tickles Rickety under the chin and he blinks sleepy eyes and gives zero shits as she says, "look, your very first hatching with a gold," and then because other people actually care, she crows, "CONGRATS," over at Tuli.

From the Sands, Those triplets are still making bets… on the other candidates, not on the eggs. That is when Scrunchie, Grunged and Neon eggs explode into three dainty greens - one sage, one forest, one mint - and with self-assured steps they claim the three girls in quick succession.

From the Sands, K'ane may or may not break down in tears of gratitude to any Pern diety for that. But he's K'ane, so… it makes sense.

From the Sands, "Wait until they're full-grown for ORGIES," calls Tuli, who totally saw that, K'ane.

From the Sands, Fascination winds about Prymelia, crinkling her sweat dampened brow as the little queen makes her appearance. "Funny how they start out so tiny and wind up so…" A glance goes to the golden dam before them. "Well you know, like that." Off to one side, Morin has gone into hyper-hyper-ventilation at sight of the gold, sniffling and wringing her hands in anxious wistfulness. Movement, a blue faceplanting draws the redhead's attention sideways along with a giggle and congratulations sent to his new lifemate.

From the Sands, Thierry lets go of the hands he's holding, trying to shove his own into pockets that his robe doesn't have. He ends up just clutching the fabric instead.

From the Sands, Celestial Conqueror Of Chaos Green Dragonet hasn't made any kind of decisions, just yet — her hatching was without haste and the choice she makes now is more critical than the star under which she was born. There are many above, shining starfire, brilliance in death: and there are many below, in white and sweat… less brilliant in life. Her gaze turns momentarily dubious as she looks with more-or-less even composure to one candidate who all but farts in her face. She prudently holds her breath and walks past him, her head high, wings slowly falling lower.



From the Sands, Majel's carefully set veneer suddenly cracks as there's a blue going nose-first into the sand nearby. Emotion blooms beautifully over her face, eyes welling up in a terrible brightness. Heedless of the heat, of the fortunes of those around her, she sinks to her knees, concerned only with getting as physically close as possible to the blue who now looks up to her. "Dyxath." It's a tender murmur at first, as she lifts a shaking hand to smooth over egg-wet headknobs and muzzle, to help him untangle his wing and get to his feet. More audibly: "Dyxath." She'll recover the rest of her vocabulary shortly. For now, there's a world to be examined in that single word.

From the Sands, Yukie glances to Mayte. "We'll make it through this." A question could be a seed within such quiet statement, but the Healer-Candidate gives no further indication of nerves or fright. Majel's Impression is noted — and the thing that turns her gaze from the encroaching chaos of eternity — with the widening of blue eyes. "Everything is happening so fast. It's as if the world is spinning 'round and 'round but we're standing still." This could be to her new Friend, Mayte. "Oh, look at that. Congrats," her soft congratulatory word is warmth embodied. She's got the spine, though, to hold herself straight. And her eyes never leave her movements. Yukie does not quake.

There is no decking needed. As W'rin nears Southern's Weyrwoman, she's already anticipating the move and throwing her OWN arms open, engulfing the man in her ladylike exubrance. "Congratulations, Weyrleader! Congratulations!" Lendai would give the man a happy shake if he wasn't built like brick house. "SQUEEEEEE!" It's a word AND a noise! "I'm so //HAPPY/!!" It's a good couple of moments she just HANGS onto Igen's Weyrleader, because that's so appropriate, before the goldrider finally lets go. AHEM. "Oh! Oh! That blue impressed! And that green! LOOK." MORE THINGS ARE HAPPENING CAPSLOCKGOGOGOGOGOGOG!!!11

From the Sands, The green. And the blue impresses to Majel who gets a hoot from Mayte, "Yeah!" Good jaeorb, but the gold egg cracks, and Mayte passes an eye over the dragonet that emerges, with a low whistle. "She's nice, isn't she?" Mayte tells Yukie in an aside.

From the Sands, Hither The Hippotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic Gold Dragonet is PICKY. So picky. She goes through a pack of blondes without so much as a second glance, filing all of them under 'failure'. She fails to be charmed by the freckled redhead who, surprise, turns out to have been a girl all along. She has ABSOLUTELY NO USE for this one, that one, the other one. The little gold pauses to make an irritable sound up at her dam, who husks a croon back. With a put-upon air, the queenling keeps up her search.



From the Sands, O'ell side-eyes K'ane, raises an eyebrow, and then goes back to weyrling-herding. "Dyxath - nice. Bring 'im this way." he encourages Majel, waiting until that one precious bonding moment has passed before ushering.

From the Sands, Celestial Conqueror Of Chaos Green Dragonet is visibly tiring, sheer determination driving her forwards, though her legs quake and her wings shake. That ironshod, grim will propels her forwards, forwards, ever forwards. She has almost reached the end of the line and the green pulls up, suddenly uncertain after all that very strong certainty. It is then that she realizes her error, amongst the chaos of the Sands and the chaos of her soul: there is serenity to be found here, in the winding pale hair of a Healer whose soul is the other half of her own. With a swift, possessive warble, she steps close and closes the gap between herself and Yukie. As there was ever a doubt.

From the Sands, Celestial Conqueror Of Chaos Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Yukie, and steps forward.



A'lory decides he might like company after all and drifts away from huddled Holders — the tinny sound of feminine voices might have a little to do with it — and somehow ends up near Lendai and W'rin, offering the pair an amused smirk at the celebration, loud and exuberant. "Pff. Doubt that one'll scare at all."

From the Sands, And here there be dragons: green dragons galore and blues by the score, browns in numbers nigh-upside down. But there is only one left on the Sands, in this the bronzeless dance with no pants: the damp queen, as the last has Impressed, serene.

From the Sands, Sacitca's hand has been dropped, so pulls her own back quickly, and wipes them nervously upon her candidate's robe. "So many of our friends.." She doesn't finish that sentence.

"We have a GOLD!" Were it not for gravity and the second law of motion, W'rin would bounce up and down with Lendai squealing like an over excited tween. As it is, it lasts just an awkward moment too long and he coughs heartily to clear the air as they de-embrace. "Yes. Yes, that blue." Cough. "Impressed. And that green as well. How bout that." As if there were other options for what the dragons might happen to do after hatching. Then suddenly at someone else near by, "Tell me about the girls who are left." A finger jabs in accussation. "Do you know them? Please don't impress to an insane girl."

Kyara is now sitting forward with lopsided grin firmly in place; Tasena, the one she and Liareth found, Impressed to a brown, after all! There will be time to congratulate the new lifemates later. Now, though…now her eyes are on that little gold, along with everyone elses.

From the Sands, Majel manages an emotional, "Sir, " as she gets to her feet, leaving one hand in contact with the little blue to guide him where they're directed. Those might be tear-tracks down her cheeks, too.

G'deon has been here all along. Really. And Nylanth is right over there, watching with great-grand-paternal-like pride. He's in there somewhere along the lines, right? "Congratulations, Igen!" G'deon calls out, lifting a glass of wine. It wouldn't be Gid without wine. Yes, he just toasted everywhere there. Drink up.

Eollyn and G'deon would obviously get along excellently. Mmm, wine.

From the Sands, When the ethereal little green that had hatched from near dud-ley egg finds her partner in Yukie, relief surges though the smile Prymelia produces is once again, laced with melancholy. "Aye," she agrees with Sactica and slips a little closer watching the newly formed pairs slipping off together while keepin a weather eye on the gold.

From the Sands, Yukie's world tilts, visibly stumbling on the sands as hands come up to lay gently against the green's still-dewy head knobs. Her eyes blink, unseeing and empty until all is settled in the world. The earth can move, the skies can weep and the stars can fall and all will still be right in this world. The breath that was held is slowly let loose as everything around her fades to the blur. "Inayalinaeth." The gentle timbre of her voice has changed somewhat, carrying a deeper, chained will that bleeds through. "I am awake." The world, see, is but a dream. She is the reality. And thus, Yukie is lost to the whirl of faceted eyes.

From the Sands, Suddenly, unexpectedly - Tuli's been waiting in breathless anticipation for the gold to pick a winner, just like everyone else - the goldrider gives an ecstatic SQUEAL. "No BRONZES! Elicheritath, no BRONZES!" She lifts up her hands in VICTORY. "My never-gonna-happen bet happened! El'ai, you and I are getting drunk tonight, and I'm buying!"

It's the final draw of a familiar voice that pulls Veresch's attention, and her head snaps around to stare at The Hair. It's got little to do with the fact that there's an A'lory beneath it. With a twinkling of bare legs, Veresch is up and over there, getting the poor rider in a half-Nelson as she rumples his hair thoroughly. "They're Impressing! They're all Impressing!" Her friends. Man, she stands to make a bundle on this.

From the Sands, O'ell gives the newly minted bluerider a comforting pat on the shoulder, turning 'round then to wait for Yukie and her green to be … ah, there they are. Awake. Presumably. "Good. Can't fall asleep until she's eaten anyway." He's blissfully ignorant. "Straight this way please."

From the Sands, Hither The Hippotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic Gold Dragonet is moving, moving, moving. Silent are her footsteps, INTENSE are her stares. She seems to disapprove of LOUDNESS: every time a hopeful girl makes a noisy step on the Sands towards her, the unfortunate youngster is met with a frosty round-cheeked STARE. Impudence! Onward she paces, onward, filing this one under 'n' for 'nope', this one under 'u' for 'ugh'. And then - then. There we go. File under 'p' for 'PERFECT'. She looks up at a dark-haired Vintner. File under 'm' for… 'Mayte'.

From the Sands, Hither The Hippotomonstrosesquipedaliophobic Gold Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Mayte, and steps forward.



From the Sands, "And gambling? I've got some marks to win back, Tuli," El'ai's quirky grin is tossed towards Tuli, but hey he's game. And who knows, she might be fun when she's not treating him like a five-turn-old.

A'lory would answer that thing about the other girls but — he's attacked, and by a Veresch. With a growl of mock annoyance, he grabs the girl's waist, trying half-heartedly to peel her off him before she further wrecks his hair (who's he kidding, he never bothers with it). And thus, he almost misses it: Mayte Impresses— and to the gold. The rumpled bronzer gives a gleeful shout, thrusting one fist into the air. That's his niece, he'll have all know. Yes.

"Ah fuck." That completely sums up Eollyn's opinion over Mayte's Impression. The vintner has a fierce scowl playing on her lips right now, and with the Hatching done, she'll be one of the first to slip out. "Took my best apprentice…" Mutter mutter. What did you expect? It's late. Eollyn will find a chance to be glad about it once she goes and finds the right wine — to bring out and celebrate with.

From the Sands, Just like that, the green is approaching them, and Mayte holds her breath - but it's not to her the green nudges, and the darkhaired girl moves aside with a smile - no those aren't tears, thank you - "Nice," is what she tells the calm girl. And now there's one dragon left - the gold, so Mayte watches the queen curiously as the gold moves about… and stops. Breath? Caught. Mayte stares. stares "Rhiscorath," escapes vacant lips, and the girl nods. "Uh. Yes. Yes. Let's get you something to eat." Still, there's a moment before Mayte is able to move, though Rhiscorath is happy to lead into this new chapter. "Uh, coming!"

From the Sands, Yukie and Inayalinaeth, Inayalinaeth and Yukie: woven together throughout Eternity. Together, they do turn and it is then that Yukie's soft, gentle smile can be seen. The bliss that still carries in the blue-green eyes. The slightly stumbling steps that come from having a different presence in one's mind. O'ell and Sienna are used as lighthouses in the seas of chaos. But wait, "Mayte…?" This given over her shoulder before she makes it to the Weyrlingmasters.

"If I have to deal with one more insane…" W'rin's booming voice trails off as the gold locks eyes with his psuedo-daughter. All those times he tried to practicing on her by talking about dragon-y things will actually pay off. "Mayte! Fuck. Oh fuck. Mayte." But rather than the disappointed sounds of Eollyn the weyrleader seems relieved. "Lendai. Weyrwoman. That was Mayte." As if the previous yelling hadn't clued in the goldrider. And he flops back down into his seat.

From the Sands, O'ell goes stock still at THAT one. Wait what? Mayte just impressed to the Gold? What? He looks up at the stands for a moment, and then towards the new goldrider with.. well, a sigh. Now he's going to have to be all overprotective and shit. "Well. This should be interesting." He decides, watching the gold lead the way for her and just hovering nearby to guide in the right direction.

"She Impressed!" Shake-shake-shake-the-A'lo. Shake-shake. "She Impressed!" Just in case his fist was a signal for something else. Veresch does let the hair go through, in favour of squeezing ribs; she's ridiculously happy, and not afraid to show it, given how tired she is as well. "MAAAAY!"

From the Sands, The dust settles, as the last of the new pairs are moved off to the side, where the weyrlingstaff await. Elicheritath begins to move, with that abrupt silence of hers; denied her spinner-throne, Tuli must scurry hastily out of the way and out onto the deserted Sands. Waving absently up at the Galleries, the goldrider lopes over towards the remaining Candidates, expression brisk, but not unkind. "Your lifemates weren't on the Sands this time. However, don't lose hope - there'll be many hatchings to come. And Pern needs riders." A few of the headwoman's assistants are on hand to accompany the Candidates back out through the barracks, while the goldrider starts moving back - towards where El'ai is. There's a bender on the horizon.

From the Sands, That's it, its done. The eggs are cracked, the sands littered with shells and a multitude of tiny pawprints. Dragonets have paired and no one died. Plus ten for an inadvertant streaker on the sands. Realizing its come to an end and that she is amongst those left standing, Prymelia's expression slowly closes about a careful smile. Nothing to see here folks. Her purpose has been served and she's just made a killing betting everything she had against herself to impress. Tempting fate much?

From the Sands, Rhiscorath isn't ready to wait! Forth! To glory and food! Come along, Mayte.

From the Sands, Sacitca watches as the last of the dragonets leave, and turns her eyes to the dragonrider speaking. A brief smile crosses her lips, and as she turns to leave, her eyes briefly go over to the newly turned Weyrlings. She whispers something to a couple of the others left Standing, and then strides off.

"I don't know who that is!" Lendai says, excited and breathless from the happy jumps of girlish glee her and the Weyrleader shared. "BUT YAY!!!" It's all happiness and ponies over here.

E'bert blinks. Just blinks. Is it over? Already? But with the gold dragonet laying claim to Mayte, E'bert cheers, yawns, and then stands up to look for the best way to work his way through the press of bodies without trampling or getting trampled.
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