Any moment of rest is one to take advantage of. Idara is laid on her bed, eyes closed, though a close observer would probably be able to tell that she's not asleep. There's an absence of the deep breaths and occasional slight snore that are the indicators of her snoozing. No, she's resting, trying to gather some energy for whatever else the day is going to bring. She's in one of her dresses, her default when not engaged in some kind of candidacy-related work.

There's some activity at the entrance to the barracks, a group of damp candidates in their work out gear trudge in and fan out to their respective bunks and clothes-presses to change. Bringing up the rear, Ryott is wringing the excess water from her shirt as she ambles through the maze of bunks, cots and hammocks. Just as she's passing where Idara is laying, she stops to shake her short, dark hair out like a canine, water droplets scattering in a radius around her.

Seated in a manner that allows her to straddle her hammock, Novi's doing her own version of resting. Sea charts, and various maps are spread out or rolled up in front of her. From time to time she looks around at the candidates gathered, and realizes the anticipation is nearly palpable. A sigh is given as she realizes all she's doing is simply staring at what she's supposed to be studying. Fine, those that aren't already rolled up are carefully rolled and put away. Once that's done Novi kicks the rolled charts to the foot of the hammock before laying back, setting the strung up bed to swinging lightly.

Tresquil doesn't have a bunk; he's folded his hammock into a cushion and put it on his clothes-chest as a makeshift seat. He's doing his own bit of staring; in his case, though, it's blankly into space. There's tension showing round his eyes and mouth. He's just finished an infirmary shift; he's got his journeyman's knot in his hand, and he's fingering it without really looking at it.

Laundry is a fact of life no matter who you are, and someone drew that straw today. Following a handful of basket laden candidates back into the barracks, Roheis has an overstuffed hamper full of towels balanced effortlessly on one hip. Without a second thought one is retrieved and flung Ryott-wards. "Dry yourself properly, young lady," she teases gently in a mock-mothering tone, passing by to set the hamper in its proper living space, likely to be raided by similarly damp candidates in the near future.

At the shower of droplets that fall on her, Idara cracks her eyes open to see the source. Oh. Of course. She rolls her eyes, but is either too tired to do anything, or is just plain ignoring Ryott. Looking down her nose, she can see Novi's hammock swinging. A flick the other way and there's Tresquil with his knot. "Are you okay, Tresquil?" She asks nicely, if with a quiet, tired voice.

Oooof! Towel to the face! Ryott grumbles a little bit and shoots a look towards Roheis with the barest curl at the corner of her mouth, "Thanks, mom." she deadpans back to the older woman. Taking the freshly laundered towel to her hair, rubbing the moisture out of it as she heads back towards her bunk. Once there, the girl wastes no time in pulling off her wet clothes, letting them drop into a small puddle forming at her feet. Once down to her small clothes, she takes the towel up again and continues her drying off.

Tresquil looks up and Idara and gives an ironic smile. "Oh, just having a 'why am I doing this' moment. You know, five turns of training, three turns as a journeyman, and I still can't sit up in bed without falling out of the thing. It makes one wonder." The hammock is apparently not Tresquil's favourite thing. It must be admitted, he's rarely to be seen in it.

Novi blinks as she sits up, one leg to either side of the hammock she's in. It's her own personal hammock, so when all is said and done it'll get tightly rolled and stuffed into her rucksack… Her rucksack. Novi's almost never seen without it, and now it occurs to her, "I'm going to leave my ruck here, aren't I?" Of all the things to be worried about, Novi's worried about a silly rucksack.

There's something in Idara's eyes, as they slowly roll to look up at the bottom of the bunk above her. "You won't fall off a dragon," she says, taking a guess at what's worrying him in relation to falling out of his hammock. Like she's some sort of expert on how to ride a dragon, now.

"Most likely. I'm sure it'll be fine," Roheis comments to Novi as she returns to her own bunk, clean sheets in tow. There's a spring in the step of the older woman today, but the way she sets about aggressively making up the bed and snapping the sheets into place, not to mention the uncharacteristic tightness about the jaw, it's not a cheerful spring.

Ryott continues her drying off, digging the towel into her ears and frowning a little bit as she watches Roheis out of the corner of her eye. Noting the way the woman almost attacks the task of making her bed catches the teen's attention with a faint narrowing of her gaze. A more thorough inspection catches the tightness of jaw and it bring her pause. "What did that sheet ever do to you?" she scoffs in Roheis' direction with a faint smirk on her lips.

An anxious look crosses the normally cheerful Novi's face, "But it has my maps, and charts, and notes in it," it's a weak arguement, and Novi's well aware of it, "Not to mention my clothes, hammock, and stuff," like the hammock's a huge concern. Tresquil gets a look of sympathy that's almost as much one of pleading, not that Novi expects him to be able to do anything. She's not even thinking about Bean when he up and settles on the item that is the source of Novi's anxiety. Novi turns to watch Roheis as the older woman makes her bed. Well, that's one way to work out stress? Novi's still watching the other candidates as they fidget, or sit eerily still like the whole barracks has taken an overly deep

Tresquil looks puzzled, and eyes Idara cautiously. "Why would I fall off a dragon? It's just… second thoughts, I suppose," he admits. He pockets the knot with a decisive movement, though, and gets to his feet. Novi's plight has attracted his notice. "We're all going to leave our things here," he says. "Are you afraid someone will steal them?" He frowns. That's not an unreasonable concern for those whose belongings have value.

"Existed," Roheis quips back to Ryott in a passable attempt at the teen's normal deadpan delivery. Little bronze Sorrel, still all awkward limbs and angles, takes that particular moment to plop himself right down in the middle of her pillow. Such is the way of the firelizard. It's almost like she wants to be mad, but who can say no to that face? Instead she scratches the little bronze affectionately and settles down on the freshly made bunk with a loud sigh.

Well. She got that guess wrong. Idara's eyes close again - tiredness? Embarrassment? They stay closed for a while. as the others talk amongst themselves. "We'll just have to deal with all our things being left here," she adds to the conversation, unnecessarily.

"Yeah, I feel like that about Laundry in general," Ryott commiserates with Roheis, her smirk deepening when the older women replies in deadpan. Now Ryott slips out of the wet underthings, and just as she does, she becomes away of that faint vibration to the ground, and just freezes. "Anyone else feel that?" But then the humming is unmistakeable and the girl blanches suddenly. "Oh shit!" She exclaims before pulling her robe out of her press and dressing herself quickly before going in search of her sandals.

"I have all my notes, and important things in it," Novi says weakly. She is aware of the logic behind Tresquil's words, she's just being paranoid. Bean pads his way carefully up to where Novi's seated, and buts his head against her leg. What is he? Chopped liver? "I suppose so," Novi doesn't sound thrilled, and that sense of an overly deep breath being held too long simply grows. Novi swings one leg to join the other, and hops out of her hammock, "I wonder if I could sneak a quick swim in?" Probably not.

Hemming is, of course, drowsing on Ulrika's pillow, while Ebbe has made a home of her locker. The guard-Candidate is busy with- what, exactly? That becomes apparent soon enough as she lopes into the barracks, damp from a bath that unfortunately didn't have a chance to reach her hair. She'll just have to make do by brushing it out nicely and tying it back. At least she had time enough to scrub the rest of her; she won't be soaked in exercise-related sweat, just Sands-related sweat. She glances around, but it's a cursory thing; she's on a mission to get to her robe and get dressed, which is accomplished with the expected degree of efficiency.

"Swim?" Tresquil looks at Novi in disbelief: the dragons are already humming Then he shakes his head and flings the hated hammock onto the floor. "Well, I've had my last night in /that/," he declares. "If I stay for another hatching, I'll be looking for a lucky weyrling's cot." He rummages in his chest and starts to get changed.

So she was on edge for a reason! Roheis's head snaps up as the telltale rumble deepens into the unmistakable hum of dragons. Propriety tossed out the window for once her robe, carefully folded and immaculately pressed of course, is hastily retrieved and exchanged for her day-to-day work clothes which are left in a pile on the bunk, soon to be claimed by the bronze 'lizard most likely. Don't panic, everyone! It's just the Hatching!

Is that…? The feeling and sound of the humming has Idara sitting upright, swinging to the edge of her bed and then hastening to her press. Out comes her robe - her new robe, though new is definitely not the way to describe it. With only a slight pause to take in the less-than-ideal thing, she changes, underneath draped clothing so as to show as little skin as possible. Beauty pops in from between to curl up on the bed at a quick order from her human; Lovely is nowhere to be seen, thank Faranth.

"I WON THE RACE," is Osarlio's loud entrance, shouted over his shoulder to whichever unfortunate soul is behind him. Only… no one else appears in the barracks entryway. It's just Osarlio. Was there even anyone else there? "Oh hey, what are we doing?" His gaze darts around the room, taking in his fellow candidates preparing for the hatching. He squints, cocks his head, and then the lightbulb goes on. "Ooohhhhh."

It was a thought that has been cut short. Novi's snatching up her rucksack, and digging out her robe to put on after quickly peeling down to the basics, "It was just a thought," she grumps, but she's changed and now that too deep breath feeling seems to have eased. Even Novi seems to relax a little as the humming becomes evident.

Ulrika is plenty familiar with the sound and feeling of Hatchings; this is no different, except for the fact that she's Standing. Once she's set to rights, she checks her firelizards quickly to reinforce the fact that, no, they cannot go with her and, yes, they need to behave until it's done. Her attention is pulled to Osarlio's entrance and she blows out a breath, ready to tell him what's going on - but then he seems to 'get' it and she relaxes some. She sucks her teeth and does a final check of things, silent and stoic for the time being while she waits for what's next.

Ginger hurries into the barracks, bellowing almost as soon as she's through the door. "You heard them." That would be the dragons, humming. Hard not to by now. "Robes on, everything superfluous off, and for Faranth's sake tell your firelizards to stay here. You know all about bowing to the clutch-parents. Who have you chosen to give you the signal. I want that person here." She strides to the spot. "And everyone else forming up on them, like you practised."

F'kan follows after Ginger, callign his own warning and rousing those Candidates standing around dumbly.

Robe on - check. Sandals tied - check. Tresquil joins the line of candidates and follws them through onto the Sands.

---

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

It is the thirty-fourth day of Winter and 50 degrees. Partly cloudy, the storm seems to be mostly gone with only the occasional short falls of rain painting the ground.

---

The afternoon may be cool, but the very air seems to swim with warmth as the voices of all Southern's dragons vibrate through stone and wood and foliage and all between. The time has come for Zymuraith's clutch to hatch at last! The Sands are undeniably hot, of course, making the cavern a welcome respite for all who flood in through the entrance, many straining to see if any eggs are already moving. Amani is already here, having been helping with a last minute inspection as ordered by her lifemate. Zymuraith looms with excited anticipation over her arcs of progeny, hovering as always over her treasured gold egg…and casting a rather sly glance at Yorprith every now and then before flicking her gaze to where the Candidates will emerge.

F'kan leads the group of candidates onto the Sands and bows to the assembled clutchparents before moving aside to join the weyrwomen, bronzeriders and other assembled AWLMs, tipping his head at them in turn, "Here we go!" grin broad on his face. As one, the candidates stream in and do the ritual bows in quadruple before they seem to spread out loosely in small clumps, many starting that age-old dance; The hot sands shuffle.

Ulrika glances to the galleries and isn't surprised to see some familiar faces up there. But there's only time enough to nod at them and hope that they see her among the veritable sea of white-robed figures before her gaze cuts back to the eggs in their abstract patterns.

Ryott tries to slink onto the Sands, but that lasts all of two steps before she's hopping from one foot to the other with the heat permuating her sandals, cursing under her breath. After the bowing is done with, she moves off on her own to a off to one side. Not really seeking the company of others, Ryott's intense dark stare is fixed on those eggs that are already moving, her brows pulled into deep concentration over them. Her arms cross stubbornly over her chest, her standoffishness maybe an indication of the teen's nerves, even though her face remains mainly inscrutable.

Novi finds herself sandwiched between Dorlan, and Ulrika once the bows have been executed. She tilts a grin to each in turn, "Wonder what will hatch out first?" is asked of no one in particular. A glance goes to the galleries, and she beams a wide smile at a familiar face, "It's my brother! Look!" she'd wave, but she's not quite that excited.

Tresquil finds himself next to Ulrika, once the filing in and bowing part of the proceedings is done. That suits him: she's kind of reassuring. He gives her a smile and a nod. "Here goes. Good luck," he murmurs, which may be completely inaudible given the amount of noise in here. But then it's hard not to be totally focused on those eggs, and their mother, the very large and protective gold Zymuraith. At least he won't be going anywhere near that particular egg!

Tsiroth is present as well, though the bronze keeps his distance for now. He's not longer bandaged, but there is obvious still-healing patches to his hide. Even if flight isn't one hundred percent cleared yet, there was nothing that was going to keep him from this! Even if he had to awkwardly walk here. Similar goes for Va'os, though the Weyrleader is doing better than he was days ago. He'll arrive not long after the Candidates have begun filing out, keeping a sharp eye on both them, the eggs and Zymuraith as he aims to join Amani.

Idara is one among so many. She hardly has time to realise how nervous she is, distracted by the bowing, and the sight of the eggs and their protective mother. She doesn't even spare a look for the galleries, though there's probably at least some representation from her family up there. She aims to slip into the loose semi circle near Roheis, though she has no words to offer the older candidate, overwhelmed by what's happening. Or about to happen, as it may be.

Osarlio does manage to make it to the sands in a robe that's looking almost presentable, aside from a strange, blotchy stain on the hem that just suddenly appeared and the excessive wrinkles in the fabric. He definitely didn't spill something on it, stuff it in a corner, and then forget about it until just now. "Everyone hold hands!" he declares, too eager for the situation. He's grinning like a madman as he tries to find a spot near Ulrika, and maybe Tree Girl as well if he can snag her.

Ginger is here in her new role as Assistant Weyrlingmaster. Once she's brought up the rear of the line of candidates, she stations herself at the edge of the Sands, near to F'kan and the others, ready to wrangle candidates and retrieve new weyrling pairs. There's meat and oil set out all ready for them, but her attention is on Zymuraith's eggs and the huge crowd of candidates. "This is amazing - our Hatching was nothing like this crowded. Actually, " she continues on reflection, "this is pretty horrifying. Too many people. Not enough space."

Star is a Munchkin Egg gives a short, spastic jerk and then tiiiiilts over a good forty-five degrees, then bumps to a stop. Nothing more! At least it's an obvious start…

R'zel's here too, with Verokanth. Although his clutch isn't due to hatch yet, the bronze has turned himself into a wall of dragon, coming between all those candidates who'll be milling round Zymuraith's eggs, and Yorprith and her clutch. Let them keep to /their/ end of the Sands. Of course, that means R'zel's here too, with Treista. He tells her, "I did tell P'quil I'd help wrangle candidates if they need an extra pair of hands, but I doubt any of them will dare to come this way. Unless some of the Hatchlings do, of course, but somehow.." He looks up at his large bronze deterrent. Verokanth's eyes are NOT a happy colour as the candidates arrive. He promises Yorprith, « They shall not pass! »

Ulrika is as still as stone, save for the periodic, slight shifting of her feet. But, as she's aware of others filtering in to stand near her, she offers Novi and Tresquil a nod. "Aye, good luck to both of you," she replies, though she's not sure if her voice is even carrying over the din of voices and the hum. She does look up to where Novi points, though, even if she doesn't see anything she recognizes. That good luck is extended to Osarlio, too, with a slightly lopsided grin for his suggestion. "I've only two, Osarlio, else I would hold hands with everyone as wanted it."

Roheis casts a curious glance up to the galleries but it's passing at best as she's distracted with the time worn pre-hatching ritual. Composing herself with a deep inhale she can't help but shuffle slightly in the hot sands. Seeing as Idara is the closest to her she sidles over to the younger girl and offers a reassuring hand if needed and a soft smile. "We'll be alright," she says, equal parts reassurance for herself and her fellow candidates.

Evka isn't missing something like this. She'd rushed over as soon as the dragons started humming and shamelessly takes a place on the sands as both support for her best friend, and as Weyrsecond to Va'os. Sometimes her position in life reaps awesomeness. Moving to Amani's side, she gives the Weyrwoman a hug. "Well, seems it's time. Are you excited?"

Treista too, is moving onto the sands within a short time, having been away for a meal. She walks past Yorprith along the wall and runs a hand along her golden hide before moving to join Amani and Evka on the sands. "Good day ladies. Fine day to see some eggs hatching, isn't it?" Treista smiles wide, hatching days are happy days.

Yorprith is rather studious as people come in, head held aloft as her eyes whirl mysteriously. She watches Zymuraith keenly, only moving now and again to reposition herself. Candidates getting too close to her clutch receive a low rumble of warning.

Rhuordian follows in behind everyone else and niceties are observed where needed, but he's already getting too hot. And despite having some help with his robe from family, it still ended up too short, hanging to only 3/4 of the way down his thighs. He's more occupied trying not to flash all and sundry to worry about much else at the moment.

Eggs are really starting to rock. Hexxus' Revenge Egg is going really fast, and Happy, Happy, Joy Joy has developed a more laid back vibe. And then there's SPOONS! and Neon Dreams and … oh so many. Too many to count, all getting ready to send dragons into the world!
Novi grins as she steps behind Ulrika to squeeze Osarlio into where she'd been standing, and just like that she's sandwiches herself between Rhuordian, and someone else.

Ryott can't really get away from the mass of candidates that are crowding onto the Sands, so when she's snagged by Osarilio she doesn't protest too much and allows herself to be dragged over to the group he is in. But she won't hold hands. Her fingernails dig into her bare biceps as her lips whiten with the force of the clenching in her jaw. Her damp dark bangs brush the tops of her eyes as she lowers her chin, eyes narrowing when Star is a munchkin egg does it spastic jerk, jumping just barely as she continues her slow shuffle to keep her feet from burning.

Osarlio doesn't try to press Ryott for a hand, although he does nudge her with an elbow to try to get her to smile. "What's the worst that's going to happen, right? I guess we could get mauled, but people survive those all the time!" He lifts one foot a few inches off the ground, waggling it in Ulrika's direction. "I guess we could hold feet? We could make it work."

Idara's eyes are staring ahead at the eggs as they wriggle and rock. Roheis's words get through, and despite her normal stand-offishness, she will take the offered hand. Her palm is damp with sweat already, and her feet shift subconsciously against the heat coming up from the sands. "I hope so," she murmurs in reply to Roheis's words.

The party is just getting started. Hail to the King Egg cracks, splits, and spills out a handsome bronze that knows just how awesome he is. He poses for the audience to see, clearly there to watch him, and then he goes forth to the crowd. A tall Smith is just the right fit, together they will save Pern from all the evil it can throw at them.

Filled With Determination Egg gives a distinct wobble. And then it does it again, all in a methodical way. It knows what its doing! Soon enough! Wobble, wobble wobble!

Ulrika watches the first shifting egg - and then the first to hatch, after - with some wariness, though her expression is cool and calm. She's already sweating some, though it's hard to tell if it's the Sands or if the moment is finally catching up to her. Novi's little disappearing act is noted and she briefly tracks after her visually to spot just where she's gone. Rhordian's spotted, too, and nodded to - and, after a fashion, she spies Roheis and Idara, as well, to offer wordless well-wishes. But then there's Ryott and her expression shifts slightly. "It won't be so bad as all that, Ryott. Shake it out." A bit like what Osarlio's doing, honestly. She laughs a little, but reaches over, holding a hand out for Osarlio if he's inclined. "Hands it is."

"Ooh, did you see that? Bronze first," Novi says, forgetting her nerves soon as she sees that first pairing. A congratulations is called, and the girl bounces on her toes to try and get a better look at the eggs.

Tresquil almost jumps as the first Egg hatches, then shakes his head in frustration with himself. It's a Hatching. Of course eggs hatch. "A bronze - isn't that supposed to be lucky, to have a bronze first? Not that I really believe in that sort of thing." Noooooo. Sure.

Happy Happy, Joy Joy Egg and Hexxus Revenge Egg seem to roll to their sides, almost colliding, until their occupants burst forth and tangle together. Twin-looking greens squabble and sort themselves out, hissing and spitting at each other for being so inconvenienced. They head in completely separate directions and almost simultaneously find their lifemates, both young boys that were Searched from Black Rock (no relation).

Roheis has managed to tamp down her nerves enough to project her normal aura of collected calm, but Idara will likely note just the slightest tremble in the hand she's holding. She's looking for other familiar faces as well and exchanges that nod with Ulrika, who seems to have gathered her own gaggle of fellow candidates. And just like that the first egg is out and Impression made, and more! "So quick," she murmurs.

Star is a Munchkin Egg gets such a hard thump from within that it outwardly jumps! And the impact is enough to start a deep, crawling crack that spreads, up, up, up…until it splits it almost cleanly in half, spilling forth a boldly dark bronze who shakes himself off and gets right to work searching for his other half, shaking off goo and shell bits as he goes.

Star is a Munchkin Egg Star is a Munchkin Egg gives up wobbling and goes into a full-blown dance. Somehow, the hatchling within has set it spinning in its attempts to escape. Round and round it goes, faster and faster as the dragonet becomes more desperate! It's only when the occupant tries a different approach that the egg is torn from within, and a very dizzy hatchling rolls onto the Sands. He lies on his belly with neck extended for a while, eyes closed until the world stops revolving. Then he drags himself to his feet.

Man of Many Faces Bronze Dragonet
Here is only one face to outwardly behold, chipped from aged amber into a craggy and quizzical visage with expressive eyeridges and headknobs sprayed with glittering copper. Burnished bronze takes hold just behind his jaw, growing steadily darker as it reaches backward and down until lightening to rich, dark honey along the salient stretch of his tail. A veritable quagmire of coppery starlight winks and glitters over the shadowed abyss of his belly, highlighting neck ridges, wing spars, and the impressive breadth of nearly night-dark wing sails that display those tarnished accents in a dazzling display of shimmering celestial swirls. Solidly built and brawny is this bronze, a true classic in form and imposing in stature.

Ryott's only reply to Osarlio's comment on maulings is a low grunt as the first egg hatches into a bronze and wastes no time in finding himself a mate with that tall Smith. Heartbeat hammers in the girl's chest as she swallows the lump in her throat as the ramifications of her impulsive decisions become all too real. Ulrika's offer of reassurance earns her a stony, side-eyed glance before her attention is drawn back to the eggs as even more impressions are made. The bite of her fingernails into the flesh of her arms as she hugs herself is proof that the Igenite isn't dreaming.

Novi's eyes squint as she looks at the pair of greens, then there's two more Impressions. Novi bounces once more on her toes, hardly able to contain her excitement.

Ulrika offers her other hand to Tresquil with a shrug, in case the Healer feels a need for a grounding presence. Otherwise, her attention is fixed on the eggs in earnest, now that things have really started hopping and popping. "Aye," she says to Tresquil, "some think as that's good luck, to have bronze first. Maybe it means no maulings," but she doesn't sound convinced on any level about it.

Osarlio misses the bronze hatching entirely, as he's staring off at a completely different part of the sands with his foot still dangling in midair. "What?" That's for Ulrika, who he blinks at in confusion for a moment before it hits him. "Oh yeah, we can definitely hold hands." He grasps that offered hand with his own, reassured by that contact. Despite his perpetual grin, he is aware that this is a big deal. "No one's going to leave, right? I heard we can still leave, but…"

Idara's eyes widen as it all starts happening all of a sudden. "So many," she says breathlessly, and her grip on Roheis's hand tightens. Reassurance to her fellow candidate when she notices the tremble? Or is it to reassure herself that she's not facing this alone?

Filled With Determination Egg has it now! With a rock and a hop and a WOBBLE WOBBLE WOBBLE, the shell begins to crack, fine lines weaving their way across the ovoid surface, weakening it. Any time now.

Not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES did the The Beetle and The Juice Egg jump before it finally cracked right down the middle to let out a wild looking brown. The dragon lets out one ghastly sound, almost like cackling, before he stalks off straight to his goal: a thin pale looking lass who came to Southern sun from the cold High Reaches Hold.

Tresquil takes Ulrika's hand and holds it firmly. "Nobody's leaving," he agrees with Osarlio. "Though, if anyone did get mauled, I suppose… I'm a healer…." He sounds undecided. "Let's hope it won't happen."

Dragons hum throughout a hatching, but somehow, it seems to intensify, deepening to a roar of excitement. With a rumble, Yorprith rises from her place against the wall and begins making her way towards her own egg spirals just as the first ovoids begin to rock.

To The Pain Egg gives a pathetic sort of wriggle and sort of flops to the right and onto its side and sits there just.trembling.

So fast, indeed! Amani is torn between eying Zymuraith (for some unspoken reason), then acknowledging Treista, Va'os, and Evka. "Errr… Yeah, clearly time! And definitely good to see this happening again…" Klah-dark eyes flicker over the blurs of motion that are bursting shells and stumbling dragonets and their new lifemates…then to Yorprith…then back up to Zymuraith. "I know we're in the middle of it now…but I swear they're both up to something right now."
Novi is trying so hard to see all the eggs at once. Ooooh, look at all the pretty eggs! And the dragons are simply lovely. Novi just can't take them all in, no matter how hard she tries.

It's Quick, It's Clean, It's Pure… and its Hatching. A storm of rocking generates a flurry of neon blue shards, and there is no egg any more, just a bright blue dragonet almost the same shade as his shell. He sits blinking for only a few seconds before he charges across the Sands to fall at the feet of a young man from Island River. Meanwhile, Neon Dreams And Bloodied Scenes Egg rocks so much that it starts rolling, and it rolls right into the frantically shaking SPOONS! Egg. Both shells disintegrate, revealing a green and a blue. They set off in opposite directions, both wandering for some time before they find their lifemates - a girl for him, a boy for her.

R'zel looks at the rocking eggs in Yorprith's clutch in disbelief. "What? They're not supposed to hatch yet. Vero! Get out of the way!" All those candidates are going to need to come down this end as well now. The bronze dutifully moves to the edge of the Sands, but he's humming happily - one very proud parent.

Roheis outright shudders at the sound from the cackling brown. "I didn't know they could make noises like that," she admits to Idara. There's probably a lot the Hold-bred girl doesn't know about dragons, really. "Wait a minute…where's Yorprith going?" She'll tug on Idara's hand to draw attention to the second clutch-mother. Little dragons moving about is one thing, but the big ones? That's pretty scary when you put it all together.

Ulrika chuckles to Osarlio, though her eyes don't leave those eggs or the latest round of hatchlings. Her grip is firm and as soothing as it can be, given givens. She nods firmly when Tresquil speaks and adds, "Aye. We're sticking through this." She glances to the Healer a beat later, "Well, there'll be no maulings if the rest of the lot are…" but she trails off and frowns a little as something seems a little off on the sands. Or, more specifically, with Yorprith's unexpected movement. "We'll be fine," she finally says, shaking that thought off.

Ice to See You Egg splits within seconds of Mrs. Frisby's Bane Egg. Theres a green in each, one dark and mossy, the other bright lime, but both creeling plaintively. That stops and turns to joyful crooning when they find their riders, one from Rock Hill Cothold and the other from Western Seahold.

Idara doesn't quite realise the immensity of what's happening at first, as Yorprith moves…wait. Does that mean…? Roheis confirms it, sort of, with that tug on her hand. "Oh - oh. Oh no." She's trembling now, and she doesn't know where to look with so many eggs hatching all over the place!

Man of Many Faces Bronze Dragonet is a studious one. So many boys…men…whatever…to consider, so little time! And he is on a crunch, here, folks; can you tell by how purposefully he moves? He- whups! Nose in the sand. Let's pull a Crazy Ivan and flip that right back around, shall we? Off he goes again, cruising on by, taking a few good, long looks…

Treista is starled herself when Yorprith gets up. "I think you're right Amani." Then R'zel is off and so she follows. Odd indeed! She rushes over, lanky legs allowing her to catch up with R'zel quite quickly.

Ginger is busy retrieving candidates and taking them across to the bowls of meat that have been set out. She gathers up the two latest greens and their riders and shepherds them between shells and candidates.

All Become Flawless Egg jerks violently for several minutes before the shell cracks and the dragon within forces the two halves apart. She sits blinking, unaccustomed to light. Then she turns on the spot, peering at the candidates. Wheres the one thats hers? That one, maybe? Or that one? Ah, but no. Its that one. Off she trots to claim her own. Catch the Wind, Rise from Sight Egg hatches a pale, pale blue, so spindly that he looks as if a breeze would carry him off. He wobbles across the Sands becoming more and more alarmed and giving a plaintive lament. Its a candidate from Southern Barrier Hold to whom he turns for comfort, and he falls silent when wrapped in loving arms.

Osarlio's pointless staring pays off, because hey, look! That other clutch is doing stuff. And you all thought he was staring for no reason. "We don't have to wait now, right? Let's get it all done at once!" He makes a smacking motion that appears slightly more lewd than he intends it to be, if the innocence of his grin is anything to go by. "Why does everyone seem so freaked out?"

Filled With Determination Egg Filled with Determination Egg rocks steadily, with no showy gyrations - just the occasional twitch of the shell where the dragonet within is kicking. Its one of these thrusts that finally breaks through, and a green hatchling widens the small gap with her talons until she can struggle out, leaving the shell torn but entire.

Rooted in the Floods Green Dragonet
Small but sturdy in body, this hatchling holds herself tall on spindly limbs. Mirrored eyes shine in an abbreviated head, the muzzle bathed in eau-de-nil, while stubby headknobs crown a verdant brow. Along her back, lime and bright myrtle mingle, spreading downwards from curled-fern ridges, to crowd her flanks with the lush foliage of a tropical rainforest, flowing in sunlit profusion over rounded haunches and reaching to the tip of her abridged tail. Mangrove-shaded light filters through the darker canopy of her broad wings. Beneath, slow-moving waters lap her egg-starved belly in a swirling blend of olive and aqua, drying to paludal khaki in the folds of her hide, whilst the bleached bark of long talons roots her firmly.

Ryott just loses all her composure and actually lets her jaw drop when it looks like Yorprith's eggs start to rock as well. She turns to look at those others assembled nearby, "Can they do that?" she asks increduously, as if personally affronted that they would even dare drop this bombshell on them. This isn't funny anymore, it's all happening too fast, and the girl shifts her gaze towards the exit briefly as if really considering it, but her stubborness wins over. Dropping her hands to her side, she clenches her hands into tight fists at her sides hopping off the sands for the sake of the heat as well as to relief the nervous energy building in her limbs.

To the Pain egg gives one violent hop in the sands and then rolls a few feet where it trembles some more. Almost as if it were catching its breath.

Tresquil laughs at Osarlio's words. "You're right. Two hatchings for the price of one, and then it's all over. I am never going to have to sleep in that hammock again! Never, never again!" Poor hammock: it seems to be assuming symbolic qualities.

With some dragons still wandering, the crowded hatching sands is only going to get more crowded as Say What Again! I dare you… Egg and Carry On My Wayward Son Egg both hatch moments apart and two bronzes join the fray. They tread the same path across the sands towards the white-robed candidates, a group of boys that seemed have become close friends: prime targets. While one gets selected, the smallest of them all, the second bronze makes a jarring turn and claims a quiet boy away from the group.

Ulrika's grip on both Osarlio and Tresquil's hands tighten a little, but she's quick to curtail the motion. She's strong and, it seems, more nervous than her expression would reveal. She shakes her head a little, then cuts a look askance to Osarlio, "Because it's not expected, that's all. They reckoned on having another seven or so. But maybe they set each other off." Though she's not going to disagree: if both clutches hatched now, then that would be less of a headache for almost everyone. "Ah! Look at that green." Though, at this point, who knows which one she's talking about, with so much happening at once.

Me Protect You Egg suddenly gives a three-fold twitch - bump, bump, BUMP! - and is goes still once more. But that stillness doesn't stop Zymuraith from hovering even closer, tongue flickering out over the gleaming shell as a soft rumble vibrates through her frame.

"Oh, I hope that one hatches soon," Novi says as she watches To the Pain egg. Then she's noticing the other gold moving, or rather having moved. Oh, well then, "But," is said simply as she turns to try and look at all that's going on. She's just way too confused at this point for more than that.

Relax, It's Just An Egg takes its time about splitting. The dragonet within pushes a foot through the shell and then withdraws it to take a little rest before trying again. Eventually, though, a sleepy-looking brown is blinking on the Sands. He ambles across to find a candidate, and flops at the feet of the first he meets - a young weyrbred man.
Rhuordian is still just trying to keep the hem of that robe down. Though watching all the commotion start has him pausing and looking out at the sands, now only half paying attention to his task. He inches closer to some of the other candidates, slipping behind them sort of to use them as a shield for his naked legs.

Even freshly shelled, Rooted In The Flood Green Dragonet is sure where she needs to go. She begins her trek, weaving in and out of the eggs. Candidates? She pays them no mind, she knows exactly where her life mate is, its a matter of getting to him through this maze of eggs and people!

Roheis had mentioned early on in candidacy that both clutches hatching at the same time was a nightmare scenario…but now that she's here it's not so bad really. How many people get to say they stood for that, after all? "I've got you," she offers to Idara. "Stay close and we'll get through this." Shifting her weight, partly due to the pervasive heat from the sand and partly to just move, she gently bumps the younger woman with her hip.

Osarlio shrugs, and quips, "Expect the unexpected!" His head cants, and his grin somehow pulls even wider. "Hey, that's a pretty great saying. And I just came up with it!" He squeezes Ulrika's hand, not entirely oblivious to the fact that everyone is a little on-edge. He even gives Ryott another nudge. "Like I said, worst thing that's going to happen is that you bleed to death everywhere."

Destruction is finally here for Singularities and Espers to Destruction Egg. It cracks from bottom to top, a large egg hatching a tiny, sticky green. Shes feisty, though, and she knows exactly who she wants. Its that girl, there, the one with the dark plaits whos standing behind a group of other candidates and laughing at their fearful laments. The little green charges across the sand, sights set on her goal and trumpeting loudly. Let her through, let her through!
Meanwhile, at the other side of the hatching grounds is Splotchy Red Egg. A lanky brown breaks through its shell and then steps out more timidly. He doesn't waste time in his choice, immediately seeking the closest boy to him and using him to hide from the world.

Idara's hot sands shuffle may be taking her closer to Roheis. Safety in numbers! There's a bronze wandering, and a green - and though neither would have been of interest to her before, now she's watching both, just in case one should come her way. Their way. Because sharp claws are dangerous, and there's been lots of talk about maulings. Roheis's hip bumps jostles her from her paranoid musings. "There's so much going on," she says in a small voice.

Ryott's gaze is drawn towards Me Protect You Egg as soon as she notices it give that twitch, the way Zymuraith hovers over it and her stomach clenches into knots as she remembers the impression it made when she touched it. But her attention is drawn back to the utter madness of eggs hatching and impressions made all around her, and, much as the teen likes beign the creator of such chaos, the feeling of not being in control of it is utterly unsettling. Osarlio gets a clenched=jaw smirk in his direction and an elbow to the ribs in return, "Keep hitting me and I'll throw you in front of one myself." she teasingly threatens. She jests, surely.

Ulrika glances to the galleries again, reaffirming that her family is still there. This time, at least one of them waves down at her and she grins up at them, but she doesn't dare risk more than a few seconds. Movement from behind is too tall to be a dragon, but she flicks a look back all the same. Rhuan gets a grin, but then it's back to the Hatching - and confirmation that both clutches are definitely hatching. "Aye, I reckon some of us did expect this," she asides to Osarlio, but she sounds distracted.

Verokanth warbles a welcome to the first of his offspring. R'zel smiles at Treista. "A brown. That'll do just fine." No lucky bronze for this clutch.

Man of Many Faces Bronze Dragonet still hasn't found his man…but he's close. He has to be close. He's-oh! He's found legs! Naked legs! And they're pretty darn strong legs, too! Yes, these'll do. He croons gleefully up and the brawny Miner he's bumped into, still-damp wings fluttering free to flap as he regains his balance. Hi, Rhuordian!
Nice and Nasty in conflict? Oh! What a Nice Egg and The Sum of All Evils Egg both hatch greens, but as the hatchlings charge towards the candidates, they collide and fall in a tangle of limbs and wings. One young man ignores the calls of the weyrlingmasters to leave them alone, and seeks to help them separate themselves. Evil Green lashes his leg in her haste to reach her chosen partner, but he doesnt mind a bit, because Nice Green turns adoring eyes to his, and Impression is made.

Novi claps with glee as she takes a half step back from Rhuordian, "Congratulations," she says, smile so broad one wonders how she can fit it all on her face.

Rooted In The Flood Green Dragonet walks a circle around one uncracked egg, and to the left, turning around to head another direction. She weaves a wobbly pattern through the sands, but eventually she finds the true course! That shining, sparkling light that guides her there shines brightly. Onward! He is near!

Osarlio shrugs, unbothered by Ryott's threats. "Maybe that way I'll impress! Orrrr maybe I'll just get a cool scar. Don't girls dig that?" He uses his free hand to mimic the line of a scar with three fingers across his face. "Rugged, right?" This is for Ulrika and Ryott both, as he glances between the two for their opinion on his total future ruggedness. He seems to be forgetting that he's supposed to be paying attention to the hatching and not the people around him.

Ulrika doesn't see the bronze until it's too late and, by then, she's following the sight of the dragonet up, up, up Rhuan's naked legs to the Miner's face. She laughs with delight, "Aye, look at you. Well done." Is she talking to the dragon? The man? Maybe both. But her congratulations are brief, her attention sliding back to the eggs again. Though, with Osarlio chattering, she finds herself relaxing some. "Aye, it would be, but I'd say you'd look better without a mauling across your face, Osarlio."

Roheis can't help but draw her brow into a furrow of thoughtful determination. "I know," she manages. She actually misses the thumping of the Me Protect You egg, primarily concerned with their immediate surroundings for the moment and her self-imposed duty of keeping her fellow candidate grounded and safe, nevermind her own nerves.

Her Majesty's Cloak Egg rocks and rolls rather heavily in a shallow groove its created. Finally it breaks apart, piece by piece, to release a proud large bronze. His wet wings hang low, though he tries to extend them fully and out of the way like a regal cloak. After a few breaths to relax and regain his energy, he treks off to a closely-gathered clump of candidates. Each individual is studied, found unsuitable, and discarded. At last he hesitates in front of a strong strapping Fisherman; their eyes meet and the bronze croons out approval at last. Then Teal is in Egg shakes, shudders, and shatters; in its place spills another bronze. Unlike his brother, he is meek and mellow and immediately crawls forth, knowing just what he wants, the quiet boy from Ista to call his own.

Va'os can attest that scars are pretty cool, so long as they're not on one's… backside. Kind of hard to flaunt that, y'know? The Weyrleader's attention is far from his own discomfort, however, as he's trying to keep track of not only Zymuraith's eggs but now Yorprith's that've decided to join the party! "I feel really bad for whoever has to do the records at the end of this…" He's totally calling 'not it', right now.

Those are the best kind of scars to flaunt, Va'os.

Idara hasn't spotted that particularly special egg doing its thing either, Roheis, so they're in that together. "Has he - did that bronze Impress Rhuordian?" There's so much going on, and she feels light-headed from the effort of keeping up with it all, the heat of the sands, and her general candidate tiredness.

Ryott snorts despite herself at Osarlio's response. "If we don't impress I'll give you a scar myself," the teen promises the man with cold smirk in his direction. Her sidelong glances for Ulrika are fleeting, but for once the girl isn't acting an ass or antagonizing the guard-candidate, more evidence that the girl is off balance at this time. She shakes her shoulders briefly and rolls her head around before forcing her clenched hands open, revealing a line of angry red, crescent shaped marks in her palms.

Roheis turns in the general direction she last spotted Rhuordian, keeping careful hold of Idara's hand while she's at it…and oh my! Those are naked legs! Swiftly averting her gaze she nods an affirmation to Idara. "Looks like it. Good on him." That flush creeping up her neck? Totally heat related. Nothing else.

Osarlio considers this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. His head tilts from side to side, as though swapping between these two potential looks. Finally, he agrees with a cheerful, "I guess I do look okay this way. That's what some little old lady told me the other day. I thought she was going to pinch my cheeks, and she did, but it wasn't my face cheeks if you know what I mean." A crooked grin is offered up to Ryott. "Hey, thanks. You're pretty cool, Tree Girl. But maybe hold my hand instead of trying to tear yours apart?" Rhuordian's impression is belatedly noted, as he blinks at the other man in confusion. "When did that happen?"

There's a lot going on, and Novi's just unable to watch one area. There's too many eggs, too many dragons, and too many friends she'd love to see Impress. Her? Impress? Novi doesn't really care. It's an experience, and that is her real concern.

Ulrika chuckles, giving Osarlio's hand another gentle squeeze. "Aye, I reckon I can imagine," she replies. There's a glance to Ryott just beyond him, then. She sucks her teeth, but is silent; the Candidate between them is likely to get a better reaction out of the Igenite and she knows it. Instead, her attention is pulled inexorably back to the eggs and the seemingly steady flow of hatchings. "Just a moment ago, Osarlio," though she's probably not clear on what he's asking or why, but the answer fits pretty much anything he's likely to ask about.

Shielded By Sunfire Egg sways gently, its occupant never quite seeming to get to the point of breaking free. Finally, a long tear appears, and a tiny green slithers out, still coated in fluids. While shes still sitting silently on the Sands, the nearby Hounds at the Watchtower Egg shatters into a circle of tiny shards, revealing a blue who trumpets his need to the world. The sound seems to rouse his green sister to action, and both head into the crowd of candidates to find their life partners - one of the Weyrs cooks, and a young man whos been rather quiet about his previous occupation.
Rooted in the Floods Green Dragonet zooms now, racing across the sands! There he is! THERE HE IS! She's found him, that shining light that guided her so soundly! She skids to a stop in front of him, coming nose to nose, wings flapping excitedly behind her! There you are Tresquil!

Rooted in the Floods Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Tresquil, and steps forward.

Ryott looks down at Osarlio's offered hand as if it might bite her, weary stiff as she shuffles for a few moment longer before relenting and taking it. But she won't squeeze, he can just hold onto it if he wants to. When she briefly locks eyes as Ulrika glances her way, there's a flash of something in her gaze, a silent wish of good luck perhaps, a temporary offer of truce, perhaps. It's gone almost as soon as it materializes though, and if ever asked about it, you better believe Ryott would deny to her dying breath.

To The Pain! Egg Hatching Message
Tourmaline Staff of The Wizard Green Dragonet
Variegated shades of lively peridot bedeck this young lady, teaming with light and shadow with every move she makes. A single splash of white adorns the top of her nose, echoing from there in subtle shifts of pristine ivory to deep emerald as the many facets of her form shimmer with gem-like clarity. Soft tones of gentle rose highlight shapely headknobs, blooming above brightly lit eyes and sweeping down graceful neckridges. The keen vibrance of ombre deepens with the onset of tail and legs, talons fading into sleepy sunset pink and blushing the tip of her tail. Wingsails are a weavers dream of jeweled tones, blending seamlessly from turquoise to sapphire to burgundy and fuchsia gilded with intricate beauty over a tapestry of flowered lace.

Hatchings and pairings are all happening too fast. Novi's not got a chance to look properly at any of the dragonets, well hardly any. Then there's a green claiming, "Tresquil! Congrats!" and a small clap accompanies that.
Is Fate Unchangeable? Not for the brown who emerges from this multicoloured battleground of an Egg and sets off to find his destiny. And not for the young Seacraft candidate that he selects - until he looks into those rainbow eyes.. Fate - sealed! Wondrous Boat Ride Egg bobs and sways, and eventually founders in a sea of shards. Inside is a blue the colour of a summer sky, who rolls as he walks across the Sands. Appropriately, its a brawny young seahold man who will be exchanging sea for sky.

Idara can't even think about having a good look at Rhuordian's legs right now - no, there's way too much going on. More eggs cracking open, and Tresquil Impressing that pretty green. "And Tresquil… Ohhh." Her hand is still clutching tightly to Roheis's, and there are sweat patches starting to show on her slightly off-white robe.
Ulrika lifts her chin just slightly when she catches that momentary flicker in Ryott's eyes. A returned wish, though the truce - on her end, anyway - is always on offer. But then there's another green - and another, that seems intent on getting close- but not for her. She releases Tresquil's hand with a low laugh, "Oh, aye. She's a lovely one. Well done, Tresquil."

Rhuordian takes a large breath when suddenly he is face to face with a bronze dragonet. His face goes dreamy, his eyes searching for things that are not there. WHen he comes out of it, his too short robe is all but forgotten as he wraps his arms around the neck of his bronze, a few tears running down his cheeks. "He says his name is Wahgerharth!" He exclaims before leading his hungry bronze off the sands.

Ginger makes her way over to Rhuordian. "Congratulations. What are we to call /you/ now? Let's get you off the Sands and over to the food. He's a fine one, for sure!"

Just in case the intensifying hum doesn't make it clear…the chaos has just doubled on the Sands. Yorprith's clutch is breaking shell, too! And Zymuraith doesn't seem to mind one bit, just crooning at her new babies and carefully guarding her most precious shell. Amani stares up at both of them with consternation. "Anything else you two want to to let us know, love?" she asks aloud. "Or should I guess?" Because she just might have a guess at this point, looking over toward the older queen. For her part, Zymuraith lets out a sound that's remarkably like a chuckle.

Yorprith has not been idle, oh no. She's been weaving her way through the spirals of eggs, careful not to trod on any of her newly hatched children. Finally she finds it, and wraps herself around it. It's a Specific Kind of Aztec egg that she wraps herself around, just as it begins to show the first signs of a tremble.

Tresquil drops the hands he's holding. His jaw has dropped in the general direction of his sandals. He falls to his knees in front of the green and reaches out a hand to touch her hide. "Myrraith? Yes, yes, it is. It will be. But you're a girl! And… you're beautiful." He makes an assessment, and prescribes a solution. "And you're hungry, aren't you. We should do something about that. There's food. Somewhere." He lets himself and his dragon - his dragon! - be ushered away.

Osarlio is trying really, really hard not to grin his victory when Ryott takes his hand. He does give it a squeeze even if she's not going to return it, just because he can. But at least, just this once, he has the sense not to say anything. Instead, he goes back to the topic at hand - cheek pinching. "Hey, has anyone ever done that to you?" A glance goes to Ulrika, before he modifies, "Well, probably not you. You'd have to be pretty brave to pinch your cheeks without asking. Maybe Ryott too, actually. So forget the question."

This is a Triumph Egg tests the waters a few times before it finally decides the conditions are just right to pop open. It fractures almost symmetrical, letting a stocky green step out with determination. She calculates each candidate in turn, stepping first to one and then the next before finally deciding upon an athletic brunette with what can only be considered a dragon shrug. You'll do, test subject.

Treista is distant for a moment, then, when Yorprith finds the egg, is shocked. SHOCKED she'll tell you! And it shows plain as day on her face. "ANYTHING else?" She shouts Yorprith's way before turning to R'zel. "I'm going to need a stiff drink after this…"

Me Protect You Egg shifts again, subtly and slowly at first…and then seeming to vibrate somehow as the life within grows restless in earnest. Little knocks and jerks come at regular intervals now, its occupant now diligently working to pick away at the rotund confines that keep her contained.

Tourmaline Staff of The Wizard Green Dragonet weaves into the nearest clump of candidates, she knows her bonded is here, somewhere. A couple of boys from Keroon get an apathetic sniff, but they obviously arent the right one. Oh well. Onward and upward…or whatever it is they say.

Novi sidles up alongside Osarlio, "I find myself alone," she says softly, then there's the activity of eggs, dragonets, and golds to steal her attention away from anything but the goings on of the sands.
Roheis can't help but smile at the apparent joy both Rhuordian and Tresquil are experiencing in this particular moment. It's a wonderful sight to behold and she'll join in the chorus of congratulations for the two, but then - "You have got to be kidding me." If she's putting those pieces together right, anyways. She'll tug again on Idara's hand. Look that-a-way.

Ulrika watches Yorprith's movements with a slight quirk of her brow, but there's nothing to be done about it. Whatever's going on with the golds and their clutches is beyond her knowing and speculating on it won't do her any good. She blows out a breath and looks to Osarlio askance, though most of her regard is for the eggs. "You'd be surprised, Osarlio. Some brave souls have laid hands on my cheeks a time or two." Nothing is said of their fate, which is for the better. "Plenty of space here, Novi," now that Tresquil's been whisked away.

R'zel has noticed too. He turns to Treista, then points. "Isn't that that egg we were wondering about. Because, looking at what she's doing, I'd say we got that one wrong." He does not seem in the least unhappy about that particular mistake!"

Ryott isn't offering congratulations, she is much too stoic for such things. Besides, there is Me Protect You Egg that once more brings her gaze back to it, squinting just a bit as she sees more movement from it. The teen is aware that Osarlio is talking to her, but it's all white noise now as she seems fixed on that one egg in particular. Her hand may squeeze a little bit though, but it's pure reflex, surely.

The weyrlingstaff move among the candidates, urging them to spread out. "The other clutch is hatching. Get down there, some more of you!" At their urging, white-robed figures distribute themselves evenly across the Sands.
It's a Specific Type of Aztec Egg can be seen more clearly now that Yorprith has brought it to prominence. Those golden patches do show up nice and clearly as it rocks, don't they? It isn't moving a lot as yet, but it's developing a certain rhythm.

Idara swivels at that tug, to see Yorprith…curling around… "It can't be?" She breathes in stark amazement. Were these golds plotting all this time? Now she doesn't know where to look - at the wandering green, the others bursting from shells, or at the two apparent gold eggs both near hatching. "Should we move that way?" She asks Roheis as the weyrlingmasters start moving candidates about.

Osarlio has no free hands, but he's perfectly happy to give Novi some space to join them, even if he can't offer her a hand. Here, have a foot! That's held up for a moment, but abandoned rather quickly as Ulrika offers the girl some space that maybe doesn't involve holding a man's sandy foot. Still, that offer is on the table if Novi wants it. "Yeah, you don't have to be alone! Although who knows how long any of us are going to last here, right?" He looks faintly surprised to hear that Ulrika has 'enjoyed' the odd cheek-grab, his head shaking with disapproval. "Not cool, guys, not cool." Whoever those guys were. "Hey, what are they making a big fuss about now?" Because oh, right, there are dragons out there.

Amani almost rounds on Treista and R'zel - and all else present - in her agitation, though it's by no means unhappy agitation. "They - both of them - decided it would be fun to keep it a secret," she says, and tosses a hand up toward Zymuraith. "Her suggestion, of course. It would be. She says the Weyr could stand a good surprise for a change." And Zymuraith surely isn't wrong about that, considering the recent concerns!

Tourmaline Staff of The Wizard Green Dragonet barrels through a clump of girls chittering to the side, the croon she emits after sounding very much like laughter. HA! Thatll serve them. And off she goes again, looking smitten with herself for causing such chaos. Sorry girls! Not this green lady!

Bigger on the Inside Egg, Darting Between the Cosmos Egg, and Tick Tock Don't Forget Your Towel Egg all hatch about the same time: an explosion of eggshell and hatchling goo, and two blues and a green stand in their place calling out to the bigger world. The blues find their lifemates almost immediately, two young women that were almost too old to stand. The green takes her time, crying all the while until she finally nearly pounces on a young Harper man, claiming him as her own.

R'zel spreads his hands airily as he answers Amani. "As if a second gold egg weren't enough of a surprise!" He's grinning all over his face, though. "Vero thinks it was a good plan, because nobody would harm an egg they didn't know was there. He won't say if he was in on it, though."

Ulrika does have a free hand, which is offered to Novi - just in case. She's an equal-opportunity hand-holder, if people can tolerate the calluses. "Aye, well. Not good on them, but they learned their lesson," she reassures Osarlio. She keeps a cautious eye on the green that's darting around, though, mindful of her movements just in case she gets too close to this particular grouping. "At least the cooks will only have to make one big feast, aye?" This is appropro of nothing - but it is a sign that her nerves are finally starting to show. Or her stomach is taking control. One or the other.

First there were eggs there, then there were two sticky looking greens and a brown between them from Boysenberry Delight Egg, Grape Ape Egg, and Eggplant for Supper Egg. They seem to look at each other, uncertain of where to go and what to do. There are just SO many candidates out there, and so many other obstacles. Eventually they find their path, still stuck together as they search… and find a trio of women, friends all from Barrier Hold.

Roheis takes an automatic step forward as the ushering begins in earnest from the weyrlingmaster team. "Let's," she agrees. Of course she'll check both ways before crossing the stree-err sands, taking the lead and Idara along with her if the girl sticks close. Now is not a time for politeness and while she doesn't exactly shove anyone there's a purpose about her that just parts the way forward. It's purely coincidence that her path deposits them nearby the clump around Ulrika. It's halfway between the clutches, after all. Prime real estate.

Callused hands aren't a problem for Novi. Her own hands bear their share of calluses, "Truth that," is said in reference to the one feast. But look. More hatchings, and more Impressions and Novi doesn't know where she should be putting her attention.

Idara is most definitely sticking close to Roheis. All the swagger has gone out of the girl in recent days, and now here, in the midst of the utter madness…she's like a scared child watching it all happen before her and - when hatchlings come to make their choices - around her. "Oh, ohhh," she says in a low voice as she plants her feet again, swaying a little.

It's a Specific Type of Aztec Egg is rocking faster now, and there are frequent jerks and distortions of the shell where it's assaulted from within. It's almost like a dance, and the hatchling within is working itself up towards a big Finale.

Osarlio's eyes go wide as saucers as he finally decides to take in what's actually happening around them. "Guys… guys, there are a lot of dragons. Everyone can impresss!" Math isn't his strong suit. "I bet you all impress, you're all cool people." And that is obviously the essence of what a dragon searches for on the sands. Coolness. He glances back between Ryott and Ulrika, and then to Novi. Roheis and Idara end up nearby, and he grins. "Now all the best people are here! Coolest clump ever." He'd give a thumbs up, but his hands are occupied. "We'd better get to that feast early if we want the good stuff."

Tourmaline Staff of The Wizard Green Dragonet weaves in and out of the assembled candidates and egg shards, nose snuffling out whichever one might be hers. With all the commotion it's harder than it seems to find that light, that soul that is the other half of her own. It's soon sorted out, however, and she moves to lean shoulder to shoulder with her chosen one, a young man from Southern Weyr.
Tourmaline Staff of The Wizard Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Osarlio, and steps forward.

Me Protect You Egg Me Protect You Egg has rocked and rocked, and finally the golden shell starts to buckle. The movements within become more and more obvious. Long-imprisoned limbs jab and punch and push, seeking release from their captivity, and one part of the shell after another swells and jerks and yields to their onslaught. The eggs dissolution is gradual: tears appear, then talons and hints of hide. Finally, a long rent runs from bottom to top, and the hatchling within fights her way through it to test uncertain legs on the warm sand. She lets out a warble thats weak but still triumphant as she slowly turns on the spot and surveys her surroundings. A whole world awaits her!

Trickster Masks the Truth Gold Dragonet
A simply scintillating thing is this queen, gleaming in purest gold worthy of any coveted coin or filigreed frippery. Yet her frame is wrought in lean muscle rather than curves, angles and knife-keen lines limned in moonlit platinum to accent a sleek, salient, and impossibly stealthy form for so imposing a dragon. There is a hint of shadow to this beautys broad daylight, captured in a shimmering mask of rose gold clinging to a sly, almost smirking visage and sweeping back along twisting, pointed head knobs. Its there in the deadly daggers of her talons, sparkling at their edges and glinting off the rounded peaks of neck ridges…and if one looks closely, threading through the graceful expanse of her wingsails in vein-like warp to the weft of pyrites shine.

Ulrika shifts her weight slightly, her version of the Candidate-shuffle being fairly sedate compared to some of the others that are likely hopping. Roheis and Idara are spotted and welcomed into the loose fold, as it were, with a chuckled, "Good luck for you two, too. Plenty of space here, it looks like." But, when she's distracted by the arrival of the other two, she loses track of that wandering green for a moment. At least until she looks back and, "Oh, jays. Well done, Osarlio!" Or whatever he is now; there's no time for that, as yet another egg hatches and she blows out a breath. "Jays."

Novi gives Osarlio a stunned look before she's beaming a broad smile at him, "Oh congratulations. She's gorgeous," she'll just dance around on her toes shall she?

Odd Orb: Strange Oddy-see? Egg and Ultimately Unethical Evolutions Egg wiggle to and fro, then knock once into each other before splitting to dump out its occupants: two little blues who wiggle in the sands as they try to get onto their feet. They cry out in alarm at the crowded big world, and tentatively step forward together. One finds safety with a broad Farmcraft lad, and the next finds comfort in the arms of a boy from Igen Hold. Then Alone in a Lilac Wood Egg gives a delicate shiver, a shake, and then egg shards shower down away from a delicate looking blue. He moves to seek out someone as quiet and sensitive as himself… someone to keep him company forever: a young girl from Ista, almost hidden behind some other candidates, is drawn out by his stare and she drops to give him a big hug.

Finally, Zymuraith loosens her hold on that gleaming shell…and Amani's breath catches hard in her throat at the gleaming gold dragonet that emerges. Her eyes brim after a moment, quite beyond her control, and she remembers to breathe again. "Oh, Zymuraith…she's lovely," she manages as her lifemate arches her neck and croons down at her first golden daughter.

Ryott blinks a bit as the green wanders right up to Osarlio and she actually jumps back, stumbling a bit and just managing to keep to her feet as all she could think of was to get away as soon as possible. Jsut as she's picking herself up, one hand on her chest to still her beating heart, Ryott's gaze is pulled by the action of Me Protect You Egg, and watches wordlessly as the little queen makes her way out of her shell, so transfixed that she even forgets to stop moving. It's not long until her feet remind her why that is a bad idea and she yelps in pain briefly.

Roheis maneuvers herself and Idara closer to the loose clump of candidates - but there's a dragon among them now. "Oh, Osarlio! She's gorgeous!" She's happy for him. Really! Maybe she'll keep him out of trouble in the long run. The near tangible ripple that goes through the crowd at the little gold's appearance pulls her attention away from the coolest clump ever and a gasp pulls itself from her unbidden. The heat and chaos is forgotten, at least for a moment.

Beware the Groove Egg has been moving to its own rhythm this whole time. Wiggle, yeah, wiggle wiggle. Cracked open, the brown that tumbles forth jiggles still to his own silent beat. The sound he emits is loud, piercing, and hard to ignore, probably some kind of singing? Suddenly he runs straight for a tangle of candidates. There's some shouting, some cries, and maybe some blood. But this is still all about him, and now his partner in crime, a large Herder boy.

It's a Specific Type of Aztec Egg Its a Specific Type of Aztec Egg gives a violent rock, back and forth, back and forth as if eager to get out of this place! It hops to the left, and it skips to the riiiiight, it puts itself on it its side and holds on tiiiight. It does the dance around till one thinks one might go insaaaaane. Then it splits in half with a mighty sound of rending and explodes, shards of burnt orange and gold flying in every direction and depositing a golden treasure of its own upon the ground.

Oath of Devotion Gold Dragonet
Bright as day and radiant as hope, the purest gold of royalty crowns a visage beautiful, noble, and adamant, flowing back and down along a lithe, graceful neck to glow upon the generous sweep of long, narrow wingsails. It shimmers upon powerful limbs, glittering upon sword-keen talons and wave-formed neck ridges, highlighting the sturdy frame of her spars. The ruddiness of rose gold gleams upon her stomach, wrapping upward in bold strokes as though armoring her ribs and haunches before giving way to the long, luminously golden whip-length of her tail.

Idara is trying to keep out of the way of the green that heads for Orsalio, even as she's being moved about by Roheis. "Ohh." There's another exhaled sound, this time of delight and awe at that gold hatchling now on the sands. "Just look at her."

Yorprith only lets up her hold on that precious egg when the shell begins to move and she greets her golden daughter, crooning to her and her siblings before moving onwards in the spiral and out of the way to watch the rest of her eggs hatch.

A low whistle of appreciation escapes from Novi, "She's gorgeous," did Novi say that in her out loud voice? She's unaware of having done so if she did. She is aware of thinking that of other dragonets, but this newly hatched gold is truly gorgeous.

Ulrika's feet are on automatic at this point; the shifting is just muscle memory, not much different than a regular warm up for her workouts. Grey eyes flick from the hatching of one gold to the other that emerges mere moments later. "Jays," is the only word she can find on her tongue, breathless this time. She swallows hard, sucks in a breath through her nose and lets it out in a soundless hiss. There's no way to tell how many eggs are left at this point, though she briefly tries to count. It's a futile effort, though, and it's back to the wandering dragonets.

Treista is in true shock, but it is joyous shock the moment she sees that golden hide and all is truly revealed. The normally contained Weyrwoman throws a hug on R'zel, whether he likes it or not. Looking up to Yorprith and Verokanth she smiles. "You both are brilliant!"

R'zel looks from one gold dragonet to the other. "Well. That's something you don't see every day." Two gold hatchlings roaming the Sands at once! His eyes settle on the Yorprith's daughter - and then Treista is hugging him, and he hugs her back with enthusiasm. "She's a beauty. "I said this clutch was like something out of a history scroll!"

Three greens that could not be more different hatch from Peridot For My Love Egg, Amethyst Gem Egg, and Ultraviolet Egg. One could be considered the smallest of all, another the largest, and the third just in between is a stocky dragonet with a stubby tail. They each go their own way, the thickset green stumbling through a clump of candidates to reach a Weaver girl that was pushed aside, her lifemate now. The other two select Crafters as well, both Smiths.

All the shining happening on these Sands now is almost blinding. Amani does take a moment to look away from Zymuraith's little gold to peer at the one born from Yorprith's clutch and can't help but grin. "Faranth…we're going to be just fine," she breathes almost distractedly, resting a hand on Zymuraith's foreleg. Though…they've yet to so who those new queens choose, of course.

Trickster Masks the Truth Gold seems torn between taking her time and acting on impulse. This one looks promising…aaaagh, but she's not quite right! A blonde Southern girl is brushed past dismissively as the lean young queen slinks past, intent on her quest for just the right prize.

Ginger has a couple of blues in her wake when she steers past Osarlio and his new lifemate. "Come this way, please. We've got food for her." There's no time for chatter now: things are far too busy.

Oath of Devotion Gold Dragonet dislodges egg shards from her shoulders with an imperious flick of her wings. Her head rises, turning this way and that as she begins to see the Sands and the candidates. She stretches her wings slowly, then folds them again and takes a few experimental steps, her demeanour poised until she wobbles on egg-cramped legs. She stops, and seems to gather her inner resources. Her mission is clear! She sets off towards the approaching candidates in search of the object of her devotion.

Roheis might just get whiplash with how quickly she snaps around to take in the arrival of a second gold! "Oh," she echos Idara. It's really all she can drum up at the moment. Not every day something like this happens and here they are in the middle of it! Noting the girl's hesitance at the closeness of Osarlio's green she moves to place herself between the two. She's fine acting the buffer.

Yorpriths eggs are hatching quickly now. White Gold Egg bounces hard and shatters revealing an opalescent green who sits dazed and confused before ambling off to bond with a small blonde girl. I'm Blue Dobbu-dee-daboo-da Egg erupts out a hissing bronze, who wastes no time like his sister and charges straight into the boy he wants, the human half taking a blow to the head but happy all the same. The Groovy Green Egg reveals a little cerulean blue that creels all the way to a Crom boy. Watercolor Yellow Egg and Boys are Blue Egg rock around side by side and hatch only moments apart. A pair of sky-blue dragonets wriggle in the sands on their back, trying to right themselves. Dreaming in Indigo Egg shatters open, dumping out a small green almost on top of her brothers. The three eventually straighten themselves out one by one, and two more boys and a girl soon are making their ways off the sands with the rest of their clutchmates.

Ryott can't help but grin, not smirk, as the Trickster gold starts to slink through the throng. Subconsciously, she takes a step closer to Ulrika, to fill that gap left by Osarlio, but definitely not for any desire for reassurance. She defintiely won't be extending her hand, just kinda lurk here next to the taller woman. Her gaze flicks from one gold to the other, suddenly realizing they are being flanked by hatchling golds. But then she gest distracted by all the other dragonets and the other genreal chaos storming around them.

Ulrika huffs out a breath when the first gold is on the move, grey eyes keen on that one for now. She sucks her teeth and shifts her weight, falling silent for a time. It's hard to keep an eye on both of the golds, with most of her attention fixed on the one that seems to be more capricious for safety reasons. But she does still sneak looks to the other gold with her poise and grace, all traits that draw a ghost of a smile to the guard-Candidate's lips. And more eggs are bursting and it's impossible to keep track - but Ryott's closer proximity is impossible to dismiss and she steps just the tiniest bit closer. No hand is offered, but there is a turn of the hand that's hanging down, palm out. For her own comfort. Really.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Egg and Losing All Hope is Freedom Egg rock a few times. The rocking turns into cracking and finally the broken pieces fall away to reveal two dark browns. They look to each other, than their dam, and finally move on to their missions. A boy from Lemos cries out happily and another boy falls down crying when his lifemate finds him at last. Across the sands, Orange You Glad I Blinded You Egg and Crimson Red Cerulean Ice Egg shakes apart, shell falling to the sand until the tired brown is able to crawl out. He rests briefly, then turns to the candidates and Impresses to a boy from Benden. Southern has hunted far and wide to get enough candidates for all these eggs!

Novi oohs softly at the golds, not at all aware that the pair of gold dragonets are flanking, "They're lovely," she says softly, still trying to see everything at once. Trying and failling.

Trickster Masks the Truth Gold Dragonet stops still now and considers all before her keenly. Best to take just a little time, she supposes, whirling varicolored gaze landing on each girl in turn, a sharp, shining talon tapping absently as most serious consideration is given…before she abruptly goes bounding off again, discontent with being still.

Send Love Through Egg and Deal With The Devil Egg deposit two more greens on the sands. Under the watchful eye of Yorprith, Green With Envy Egg and Indigo Rain Egg fall to pieces with more greens to join those roaming. They're all quick to pluck their candidates out from the crowd, a pair of boys and a pair of girls crying out happily. The Feline That Ate The Canary Egg breaks apart and out comes a too smug looking bronze. He preens, he creels out his hunger, he waits for someone to come to him and finally he realizes he isn't going to get his demands met. Trudging towards the candidates, the dragon looks unimpressed until he comes before a rather muscular boy, creeling at him now for attention. Attention he gets, now that he's bonded.

Ryott crosses her arms over her chest to keep from any unintentional hand holding from happening. The girl still has her pride. It makes an interesting tableau, the short girl with her dark hair, trying to remain as sullen and brooding as usual while still shuffling to save her feet any more pain, next to the towering guard-candidate. And maybe she moves just close enough not to be tyouching, but there is madness all around with eggs hatching by the handfuls and candidates impressing left and right, so it's purely for safety sake, cause people tend to go around Ulrika.

Ulrika doesn't dare to look to the galleries, much as she wants to. The typically stoic guard-Candidate is starting to crack just a little, between the chaos that continues to erupt on the sands - and seems to be escalating - and the continuing movements of the golds in particular. She's half-forgotten she's holding Novi's hand - is she still? She can't be sure. She shrugs and starts to shake things out a little more, a brief divergence from her formerly sedate shifting. Just enough to get the blood moving properly. Good thing Ryott's folded her arms, or inadvertent hand holding probably would be happening!

Burn, Baby, Burn Egg practically melts apart as the occupant attacks its prison aggressively, a wild looking blue left hissing in the remains. Not far away, Anarchy's Best Bud Egg splits apart when a dark green hatches, as temperamental as her brother, and takes off at a rapid pace. The blue hesitates and then rushes forward in the same direction his sister went, who is on a collision with a woman whos standing in front of the boy he wants. The girl jumps aside the last moment, straight into the path of the blue. Shes knocked down and bruised, perhaps, but newly Impressed. The dragonets share a glare at each other as their new lifemates lead them to the food.

Oath of Devotion Gold Dragonet avoids the male candidates, but those females she encounters are given more attention. Some, she passes by with no more than a glance. Others receive consideration as she pauses, head attentively cocked. A dark-haired harper is appraised, then rejected. Likewise a Black Rock girl - something about that one seems to worry her, as she gives a sad creel before moving on to the next girl. But the daughter of a north-coast Seaholder isn't the right one either. Is she discouraged? She is not! She presses on, her purpose firm, and her energy seeming to build with every step.

Roheis absently notes the color-spread from what she can actually see among the dwindling sea, though it is still very much a sea, of candidates. While she certainly wants to keep her eyes on the golds on the move, especially that one that's doing her best to keep a low profile, there is still enough chaos going on that for safety's sake she can't dial her attention in to one dragonet specifically. The oppressive heat seems to finally be getting to her, a damp patch forming between her shoulders. She won't wither, however, instead pulling herself taller if she can, even if that means she's high-stepping it a bit to keep her feet from burning.

Ginger's with the growing crowd of new weyrlings feeding their lifemates just off the Sands. She repeats the same litany over and over. "One piece at a time. Make them chew it. Don't go too fast or they'll choke."

Several rocking eggs finally break open. Mosaic White Wyrm Egg and The Elder Sign Egg reveal two of the daintiest little greens, both reeling from the efforts of hatching. They give a quiver together before they meander past eggshells, careful not to disturb unhatched eggs, and finally reach the line of candidates and lock eyes with two boys. Across the sands, another pair of bright greens spill out from Butterscotch Egg and Honey Mustard Egg, similarly built but confident and ready to leap into action as soon as they have hatched. They bound towards candidates, plowing into two boys with a gleeful croon, Impressing without hesitation.

Trickster Masks the Truth Gold Hatchling seems to revel in every step she takes. Now that she's got quite skilled at this walking business, she's practically bouncing as she goes from one Candidate to another. So much to see! So many white-robed creatures to investigate as she seeks just the right partner for her adventures. None meet her needs, and few are given more than a moment's attention, until suddenly she raises her head and freezes, rapt. Whatever she senses, that's what she's looking for! She turns and bounds across the Sands to prod with a demanding muzzle at the knees of a slim, dark-haired teenager from Igen.

Novi takes a step back, and beams at Ryott, "Congratulations. She's lovely," and then she's back to watching the going ons of the Sands. It's so exciting, and she's just had so much fun watching everything. There's still eggs, so one can't let one's guard down.

Ulrika does a brief wellness check on those nearby, just a glance to those familiar faces that are nearest. All seems to be well, at least, though the guard-Candidate can't quite find it in herself to smile. There's still too much happening, too much to keep track of, no time to relax - not yet, at least. But, she has feeling in her hands and feet again and, once she shakes the spinnerwebs out of her head, she's able to focus again. More eggs hatch; more dragonets Impress. And then- yes, there goes that sneaky gold, choosing the most likely suspect. That is enough to make her smile. "Good on you, Ryott," is earnestly meant, coupled with a low chuckle.

Amani has been watching that little rose-masked gold for a bit now, her dark gaze keen upon the dragonet as she finally makes her decision. When it's Ryott that the newborn queen chooses, the Weyrwoman's brows arch in mild surprise. "Interesting," she murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard, a corner of her mouth lifting as she considers the pairing. A challenge, to be sure…and Zymuraith quietly rumbles her agreement before uttering a heavy sigh. Her clutch has finished. Now all that's left is to see who the remainder of Yorprith's clutch will walk away with.

The hatching grounds are growing less crowded, the sands covered in hatched shells, and Lavender Egg, Lilac Egg, and
The Smell Of Purple Egg just add to the discarded piles. The dragonets tumble out, bewildered by the commotion growing around them: two blues and a green. They take their time in figuring things out, wandering aimlessly, but one by one they stop in front of their chosen candidates. Pansy Garden Egg trembles apart, leaving in its place a fine and delicate brown dragonet. He shivers for a few long moments in place, unable to leave the remains of his egg, until Orchid Egg hatches a blue dragon that tumbles right into him. The brown cries out in surprise at his brother, then quickly moves on to the safety of the candidates. A young confident boy steps forward, called forth to help the brown and his new lifemate. The blue does not take long in moving, once he is oriented, and seems to know exactly who he wants from the candidates, bee-lining straight for an Istan girl and head-butting her affectionately.

Ryott may lean a little against Ulrika, by pure happenstance and certainly not on purpose or in lieu of hand holding. She's merely stretching as well, that's it. She's actually looking away at the nearby impression of a green when she feels that bump to her knee. Looking down automatically, she blinks briefly in confusion as she sees that rose gold visage looking back up at her, "Huh?" is all she can manage before she shudders and her eyes widen to impossible sizes. "W-Wrayth?" she squeaks, a sound not often heard from the usually deadpan girl, as she drops to a crouch to run a hand along those twisted headknobs. She actually laughs out loud, dark eyes brightening with moisture, "I agree, food first." And she'll help Wrayth off to the side to find meat for the starving gold.

One of the weyrlingmasters comes to help Ryott, leading the pair through scattered shells to find a bowl of meat and a little peace and quiet.

R'zel asks Treista, "Did she say Wraith? What a creepy name."

Azure Fire Egg has a sudden fit of shakes, pieces flecking off until nothing remains but a bright walnut brown. The dragonet yawns widely, content where he is, before seeking a hand that will feed him. In his quest, Veridian Town Egg hatches right in front of him, a pudgy dull green flopping in his path. He gives his sister a hiss for the disturbance, than finishes the trek to the candidates. It doesn't take him long to find a short stocky boy, his lifemate. The chubby green eventually gets her feet under her, waddling unsteadily in the wake of her brother and stumbling in front of an equally round boy, meeting his eyes with her own.

Novi time to scoot a litle, there's so much to see, and Novi just can't see it all where she is. So she'll step a little away from her cluster of candidates. Ah that's better. She can see most of what's going on now.

Ulrika relaxes just a little once Ryott and hers move away, but it's just a moment. Vigilance lends steel to her spine again and her attention cuts to the remaining eggs and the swiftly moving dragonets - and the remaining gold that's moving across the sands. The thinning ranks are noted, along with the eggs that yet remain. She sucks her teeth and continues to watch and wait, shoulders squaring up in a bit of a stretch that just doesn't end in a relaxed slouch.

The chaos of dragonets hatching and candidates Impressing is starting to slow, but there are still eggs out there.
Among it all are Yellow is The New Orange Egg, Clementine Egg, and Blood Orange Egg, bouncing hard until the dragonets inside finally emerge. Picking off their shell as they go, three bronze brothers are on a mission together. They navigate through the maze of egg shells, still rocking eggs, and even white-robed humans until they find their goals, individual boys all Searched straight from Southern Weyr, crafters and residents.

Oath of Devotion Gold Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Ulrika, and steps forward.

Novi claps and calls a congratulation to Ulrika. Is it hot in here? Surely it wasn't this hot when they stepped on the sands, was it?

Oath of Devotion Gold Dragonet leaps from place to place on the sands, having found her footing and some sort of superhero-like strength. For the sake of Pern, she must find the lady to which she must give her vow of devotion! Where is she? Is she here? A young Istan girl is inspected. No. Not her. A dance to the right brings her within nudging distance of a young Nabolese girl, but she isnt the one either. Where is she? Her Hippolyta? Her Queen of the Jungle? There she is! There She is! Standing above the others in her utter perfection! In a hop and a bound she comes to sit on her haunches, oversized wings trailing behind her. She stretches herself and her neck to come nose to nose with a tall Southern guard woman.

Ulrika was watching. She really was. But, perhaps, it's just a degree of disbelief that previously kept her from actually seeing where that other gold was getting to. And, yet, there she is, and the former guard finds herself kneeling, both hands pressed to the sides of that golden face. She presses her forehead to the dragonet's, tears welling in her eyes. "Aye, Theidith. Aye, we will. Always." But the rumble of her stomach - or is it the gold's? - is enough to compel her to her feet again with a quickness. There's a dazed look to Novi, Roheis, and the others near her- and then she's on the move, escorting Theidith to food.

Roheis isn't surprised by that Impression in the least bit it seems as she beams at the tall now ex-guard candidate. "Well done, Ulrika!" There are some lingering hatchlings still, though not many, so unfortunately she must turn her attention back to the sands. They'll catch up later.

The last few eggs are hatching. Blue-Green Eyes Egg and Rainforest Green Egg rock together, nearly bounce off each other, and then break apart. Two greens creel loudly, tangled in their own limbs, crowded among other rocking eggs. As they are trying to right themselves both Sky or Robins Blue? Egg and True Blue Ocean Egg finally crack open to add two more green dragonets into the pile. One by one they untangle, jerking and crawling straight into the candidates. Weaving through a few, they each finally find their lifemate until one remains… wandering, crying, calling. At last, almost at the end of the line, she finally locks eyes with a short young woman, whose plain face lights with joy. And thats it.

All done, all accounted for. To Amani, the air seems to cool just slightly as she steps back to watch the last of the new weyrlings make their way to the barracks, an easy grin curving her lips. Zymuraith watches until they've all gone in as well, uttering a friendly trill to Yorprith before exiting the cavern for some well-deserved fresh air. And a hunt. Amani will hunt as well…for a plateful of food in the living cavern as the post-Hatching feast begins.

And with that Novi's left to return to her beloved dolphins. She's honestly feelin a great deal of relief for that.

R'zel turns to Treista and offers a hand to shake. There's a satisfied smile on his face. "Well, that's a good job done. All safely hatched. Time for a cold drink and something to eat?" Verokanth's already propsing some hunting to Yorprith.

Tsiroth is looking as smug as ever, chest puffed up and proud poise all in place! He'll rumble to Zymuraith as the gold takes her well deserved leave! He'd join her, but alas, there is no hunting for him! Just a cautious return to the 'yard, where his temporary 'home' awaits. Va'os lets out a long, heavy exhale that ends in a bit of a 'whoop' like sound. "Now that's one for the records!" he exclaims, grinning brooding to Amani. There may be a wink given to Treista and R'zel too, for good measure! "I dunno about you guys, but I'm all for celebrating!" Even if he won't be able to enjoy it for long. Standing here on the Sands has likely taken a chunk out of his endurance but he'll be damned if he doesn't make a brief appearance at the feast!