Ista Weyr Log: Aerianth and Volath's Hatching, October 2005

Aerianth and Volath’s Hatching - October 02, 2005

Hatching Sands
This huge cavern arcs high overhead, a volcanic bubble in matte black rock left open to the wide sky at the top. The black sand of the Istan hatching grounds reflects less light than a paler sand would; as a result the cavern is darker than most, particularly when the sun's not directly overhead. Tunnels lead off to the bowl and the queens' quarters to southeast and southwest. Tiers of galleries provide seating for spectators, while ledges above offer perches for dragons.

Besides the span of the galleries to the south, one can head over towards the entrance to the hatching grounds, or into one of the Queen's tunnels to the southeast and southwest.

Obvious exits:
Dragon Ledges Main Entrance

Then enters:
Griere, V'lano, Jillah, I'sai, Ellery, Falyn, Makare, Nolee, Naemyr, Cynara, Aiemera, Ailisha, Gustive, Iaril, Eslyn, Claia and K'tdan.

I'sai may grimace as he makes his way onto the sands, but he holds his saunter, modified only a little for the slippery surface; he casts an assessing eye on the clutch, then on queen and sire, before making his way over to Jillah and H'rel.

V'lano leans heavily into his humming beast's side, looking past the bronzen form with a wan grin at Griere. I'sai's assessing eye earns a grin even more abashed in form, and the sire's rider casts a downward glance at the sand beneath his boots just as the candidates begin to pour out.

A stream of white-clad candidates file out onto the sands, bowing and nodding respectfully to the clutch parents. They make an uneven half-circle around the eggs and just in time, too.

Aiemera's attention, upon immediately stepping out unto the sands, isn't upon the Sands themselves but the Galleries. The quietest of murmurs escapes, followed with a sad downturn of her lips before she resumes her Sand-bound duties. The proper bow is offered, Gustive and Libra's hands reclaimed immediately following such and her place upon the Sands taken up. After a deep, steadying breath, Aiemera quietly speaks to her Sands partners. "Good luck you two..." Libra, bouncing in place, smiles impishly up at Aiem before turning her attention toward the eggs.

Radiant Energy Egg makes the tiniest of movements, something no spectators would catch unless they were watching it specifically. Then its vividly shifting patterns begin to shift more violently, as it starts to vibrate. Vibrations become a slow rocking, and then an ever more hectic beat that ends when the egg suddenly slips from its mound and rolls onto its side. Once again, all is still.

Naemyr peers about him with eyes wide, each step obviously beginning to heat through his sandals to his feet. He glances up to the galleries, then back to the eggs as he takes his position with his fellow Candidates. He gulps, and stares.

Iaril moves to his place in the half circle, somewhat clumsily trying to keep his ill-fititng sandals from falling off his feet. He casts a quick squinting glance toward the Galleries, then quickly returns his gaze to the Sands and the movement and stirring activity there.

Makare settles into her place in line, shifting her feet as the heat from the sands soaks through the soles of her sandals. The first movements within the clutch have the candidate staring curiously towards the eggs.

Griere is obviously anxious as the clutch she's been watching suddenly vibrates to life. Aerianth's throaty hum shows no such uncertainty, her eyes whirl in excited shades and her head is held low as if to have a hatchling's-eye-view of the proceedings, not to mention the candidates.

Gustive steps out onto the sands, luckily his feet had toughened from his many barefoot wanderings on the Istan beaches. But even that, with the added protection if his thin soled sandles, isn't enough for him not to perform the ever popular Hatching Sand Dance. He minces forward, looking for the most part a bit silly as he tries to execute a stately bow to the two watchful dragons. "Thank you for letting me be here," he mumbles awkwardly before taking his place around the eggs with the other Candidates. He reclaims Aiemera's hand, giving it a soft comforting squeeze.

The Wasted Oasis Egg moves once, just once. But once is enough - it fairly slams against the sandy lump that shores it up on one side, a loud crack ringing through the air. Though no damage seems to be done, surely the shell's integrity has been compromised by this sudden move - but afterward, it lies still, an emerald in a black-sand setting.

Nolee's one of the stream, walking awkwardly onto the sand in ill-fitting stained sandals, her voice a hush after the clumsy curtsy to the clutchparents. "It's much more ominous when they're all doing that hmmmmm thing, isn't it?" Her hands reach out, reflexively, toward Naemyr and Iaril, startled, "It jiggled."

Falyn minces his way across to the half circle aroudn the eggs, each step gingerly placed on the hot sands. A light sheen of sweat is already appearing on his brow, likely from both the heat and nervousness. He's quiet though, his gaze automatically flicking in the direction of the rolling egg.

I'sai talks briefly with K'tdan and Jillah, last-minute byplay in the relative, -relative- quiet; H'rel's already heading to the far corner of the sands to triple-check the few supplies the weyrlings will need before getting to the barracks, and B'ryce is only just scrambling in from his stop at the latrines, his hands still wet with water and the odd bit of sweetsand.

Iaril nodnods, "They're all starting to do that, S." He grins weakly, "Be careful when they all start popping out - don' wanna see ya hurt."

Eslyn falls in amongst those candidates near Ailisha after the bow, glancing up into the faces in the stands then up towards the ledges. A mumble of, "Mam and Da must be watching. Wonder if they got Tuen there with 'em." Her aqua gaze is then attracted by the moving of the eggs and all bravado is lost - eyes rounding to saucer size.

The first one is over before it's even begun. Perched on the outer edge of the lumpy area of the sands that cradles the clutch, the Red Sunset egg barely moves at all - it simply splits open in its hurry to beat its siblings to the finish line and spills forth a slender, egg-drenched brown. He spends all of a heartbeat's time shivering the wetness off of his star-dappled wings before setting out to find his other half - and the search goes quickly, for she's right there on the front lines. "Cehenth! I knew it was you!" Even though her new lifemate's been on the sands for mere seconds, teary-eyed Helcen continues, "It couldn't have been anyone else. Let's go!"

K'tdan nods to I'sai's instructions, then glances towards the galleries, perhaps searching for someone. He does wave to people he knows, including the diminutive ones. Greetings done, he turns his attention back to the candidates and the eggs.

Iaril's eyes widen, "Brown! Good show, Helcen!" For the first time, the lad begins to show a litte excitement.

Naemyr's mouth falls open to stare as he takes Nolee's hand and clutches it hard. "Yeah, nothing like when we came here to touch them, Nolee. Look. Another one moved." He shudders, glancing to dam and sire then back to the eggs. "Yeowl! Look! That brown?" Another gulp comes, then a "Phew!"

Ailisha :'s gaze is fairly fixed on the sands. For all her apparent awareness of the stands, they might as well not even be there. After she's joined the semicircle and bowed with the rest of the candidates, she's lurks near Whenal, although it is a grateful smile she flashes the younger Eslyn as she comes next to her. The seacrafter lad's blue eyed gaze is rather stormy as he sees that both Naemyr and Iaril have beaten him to the punch, until Ailisha distracts him, "That egg over there that's cracking, isn't that the one you and Nolee were touching the other day?"

V'lano lifts his head to consider the candidates, though something about all of the business with eggs and humming and - well, he winds up leaning his head weakly against the bronze's flank. So he's standing when the first Impression tumbles into existence; a grin breaks on his lips and he lets out a sudden whoop. Energized, he trails around Volath to seek the dam's rider's side, elated.

Cynara moves into the circle, standing next to Nolee as she watches on in a barely cancealed eagerness, though she does her best to keep a calm, business like manner about her as she glaces from one egg to the next, following the sounds and movements of each.

The Moonlit Darkness Egg goes quite still, all attempts to emerge apparently ceasing. Then darkness gives way to light, as a head and two whirling red eyes pop straight through the top, leaving the body still encased. After a moment's struggle, the egg rolls forward and shatters, depositing a hatchling, still shining with egg-goop, on the sands.

Evening's sparkle touches this brown like the gleam of twilight on smooth bourbon. His hide is rich amber velvet over the lanky, fluid line of his long neck and gently sloped shoulders. Warm ale-hues pool and trickle about his neckridges, washing down his lean back and spreading in lazy rivulets about his winspars. Waterspots create a subtle dappling along his transluscent sails, toned barely lighter than the evening shadows that play there. Whiskey cascades along his back, pouring over his flanks and down the length of his tail. Midnight's utter black shines on his talons, adorning wide paws like dark jewels. His head is broad, in divergence from his lean build, and accented by his straight, prominent muzzle and the continued line of headknobs touched with moonshine.

Aiemera continues her quiet conversation with Gustive, and her tight hold upon Libra's hand, "Always looked different from way up there. Almost wish that's where I was." A quick look is stolen toward Gustive as Aiemera half-smiles, but the moving eggs quickly reclaim her attention as she shifts back slightly. The wincing step continues into a slight shuffle once the heat becomes uncomfortable, but Aiem limits her movement as much as possible.

B'ryce heads over to Helcen, muttering, "That's right, that's right, you said his name, there's no blood, that's all good. Just don't drown us on the sands, all right?" and she wipes tears away from her face, smiles, and helps her little brown to the sands' far corner.

Nolee nods to Iaril, her brown eyes wide, "Gerand said watch for the eyes, avoid the claws, which sounds like good advice. But how can we do that if they all move at once?" Then the first impression has been made, and she's cheering along with Iaril, smiling as Cynara approaches. "One of them made it already. And no one got hurt!"

Gustive nearly laughs in releaf as Helcen and Cehenth make their way from the sands. "Oh did you see that?" Once again he squeezes onto Aiemera's hand, so happy for his friend.

Makare finds herself to the other side of Cynara "Keep an eye on that little green egg we were talking about, gotta make sure it hatches." not like they could do anything if it didn't "Look a pair of browns, a good start to the hatchings don't ya think."

Falyn stiffens and an almost inaudible gasp escapes him at first brown's hatching, and now another. He is quiet other than that, lifting one foot to shake hot sand off, for all the good it does, before replacing it with a quick wince.

The kaleidoscope colors of the Wasted Oasis Egg move anew, malachite tumbling heels-over-head with sepia-toned smoke. A thin, pale line seems to glisten on the newly upturned surface of the shell, as if wet goo seeps through from the inside.

Iaril turns quickly, "Look! Another Brown!" He points,then quickly pulls his hand back, "I don't know.. Watched a few, but never been ere b'fore! We just have t' keep our eyes open..." He glances at his fee, "Wish these things fit better!"

Eslyn gasps softly as the first impression is made and then there's too much going on, "Mam said they happen fast sometimes." Then there's another uneasy look upwards before she glances over to Ailisha and to Gustive. "Wonder if anyone'll get gored. Did you guys practice yer dodging?" She shifts slightly from sandled-foot to sandled-foot.

Naemyr is all too fascinated with that brown, gawking at the youngster while a finger lifts to point at it. "Yeah, there's another one. Maybe they'll all be browns? Hmm. Hey, Falyn, do you know if that's ever happened?"

Nice Legs Egg emits a barely percetable tremor, the merest twitch, easily missed but for the small trickled of disturbed sand collapsing away from its base. And then all is still.....for now.

Aiemera laughs at Gustive's enthusiasm, and even Libra's squeak of delight. "It'll go by fast now, just you watch." More soft, easy comments for the full of her attention is easily upon the eggs and little else.

Ailisha blinks at hearing her fellow candidates offer congratulations on first Impression. She missed it? She only sees the backsides of B'ryce, Helcen, and Cehenth as they're moved off to the corner of the sands, "Seems your mam's a smart lady, if that's anything to judge," she replies to Eslyn. The newness of being on the sands has so far made the heat tolerable, particularly as she spots the smooth spirited hue of the second-hatched brown, "Just got to stay alert, then there's no need for dodging, right, Es?"

Gustive tries to keep up with everything, his nervousnes seeming to dissipate a bit in the excitement of watching the amazing creatures break through their shells. Aeimera's poor hand must be nearly crushed by now, so luckily this time Gus doesn't squeeze again. "I've never even see a dragon Hatching before... what a first time." He's once again distracted watching the newest egg give a bit of a wobble.

Debonair Bourbon Brown flops his wings feebly a few times beneath the weight of goop, shards, and his sudden birth. But that won't do--there's an audience here, after all. His wings flop more vigorously, as though he's hoping they'll help him onto his feet. They don't, but he somehow ends upright after a moment anyways. Only a moment, though. Two more steps, and the continued flopping of his dappled evening-shadow wings sets the little brown completely off balance, so that he tumbles again to the sands while inertia brings his tail up and over his prominent wedged muzzle to twitch before hunger-reddened eyes.

Nolee bends her head forward, as something Iaril said has the girl completely absorbed. Brightly, she announces, "My sandals are on the wrong feet!" She proceeds to try to swap them, listening for Falyn's answer and hopping from foot to foot, still holding hands with those on either side.

Falyn shakes his head, speaking quietly as he watches first Helcen and her new lifemate head off the sands, then studies the brown. "Not that I ever heard of."

Aerianth lets out blows affectionaly at Griere's curls in an attempt to calm a lifemate far more worried than she is.

Eslyn shakes her head a bit, "I've heard stories, Nan." A nickname for Ailisha? And in the middle of the hatching? Well, no time like the present. "Even sometimes people think they're coming to them and then they go on past by way of going through - and the blood goes eve-" She's all set to launch into a description of blood and gore, but thankfully a scolding hiss from a pale-looking Nerat girl silences the Istan youth.

Iaril looks left and right, counting on his fingers "That's.. three, no four movin'. And that Brown." He checks on the progress of the Hatchling. "So far..." He lifts one, then the other of his legs, "The worst part's the heat. Keep standin' an' you ok." HE looks at Nolee's fee for a moment and laughs, "Sure are!"

A precipitous trembling sets the shell of the Wasted Oasis Egg vibrating with the frenzied effort of the creature within. At last, hairline cracks give way to the sudden breakaway of a slab of shell, leaving a window from which spills gelatinous egg-liquid and one wet, slick blue hatchling. Deprived of his mass to hold its shape, the shell collapses upon itself behind him. The newborn dragon does not look back - he gathers himself up from the gooey puddle in the sand and stretches his wings wide, tongue lashing a hungry path over baby-sharp teeth.

Even more than his striking darkness, this small blue is defined by his shape. Lined with the sleek shadows and starry highlights of a compact, sparingly muscular form, he's never to be called lithe or lengthy like so many of his kind. Instead he's a shadow, a midnight sky crowned with wispy neckridges and stubby headknobs the color of angry thunderclouds. A wide, expressive maw and heavy-set eyeridges dominate his face, brightened by azure flecks in the supple hide just below his eyes and along the line of his jaw. Sheer wingsails drench light in darkness, but allow the resulting haunting glow to pass through. Built upon sturdy, short spars, these wings excel in breadth rather than span, promising precision and agility in tight quarters in trade for speed. That priority is tell-tale also in slender, swift legs and broad-padded paws tipped with silvery talons.

I'sai eyes the candidates - briefly, his gaze pausing just for a moment on those Taralyth'd had something to do with - and darts out to grab a good-sized hunk of shell before retreating back to the outer circle. He hands it to Jillah, for no obvious reason.

Aiemera's hand is indeed crushed, though the adrenaline pumping through her is more of a buffer then not. "Just you wait," Aiem remarks, her eyes set upon the toppling brown, "It might get more interesting yet." Libra, hand tugging insistently upon Aiem's, tries to redirect the elder girls attention to the recently hatched blue with quiet calls of, 'oooooh! lookie, lookie!'.

Makare keeps her eyes on the eggs then shifts to the brown "Blue, there's a blue." is said in rapt excitement "Just look at him." So hard to decide on which to pay more attention to, so Makare opts for head twisting and bobbing to watch it all.

Jillah looks at the shell, at I'sai, and then she smiles faintly, and stows it in a capacious pocket. The scowl she'd been wearing flicks off and into storage for later.

Cynara glances at Nolee's feet, but only for a moment, then her eyes flick to the brown...and then to the blue that just hatched. Calm, she seems, for now, her attention almost entirely on the dragonets with only a little for her neighbors. "That blue looks like he'll turn in his own length, even now...might change as he grows, though." And the brown...poor thing tripped. It's hard to decide what to watch, but she watches everything with minimal movement.

Iaril responds to someone's call, "What...? Oh! A Blue, too! Two to watch out for now... Wait, didn't that Egg shake, too..." HE moves his fingers again, counting. "Six? Seven? Ohno!" His left foot slips out of his sandal. "Owow!" He scrambles to reshoe his foot.

K'tdan watches the transaction between I'sai and Jillah with an arched brow. However, his interest doesn't last long as he returns his focus on the newest weyrling pair and prepares to assist them.

Naemyr places his hands on his hips, which only amounts to a bunching up of that oddly shaped robe, to peer out at the latest hatchling. "Yeah, and that's a handsome one too! I think I like their wings the best!"

Nolee frowns as Eslyn's grisly words reach her ears, "Watch the eyes, watch out for claws," echoes the mantra, her sandals hastily stepped into properly. "Maybe yours are mixed up, too?" Then there's more motion on the sands, and she squints, "They're alive. And slimy. And they're moving."

I'sai's already looking up to the galleries, now - familiar faces of his own, like K'tdan's? - but he smiles. "That one's counting," he mentions to nearby bronze- and brownrider.

Nice Legs Egg abruptly jumps (almost) clear of the Sands before erupting in a strong, rhythmic rocking timed to some internal music with an almost fierce back-beat. Dancing in place, it performs a slow pirouette in the sand before winding down gradually, leaning strongly to one side as if bowing to the audience.

Eslyn's eyes widen a bit as more hatchlings make their entrance onto the sands. With so many murmurs of approval to the blue just hatched, her aqua gaze is drawn that way and raven brows lift slightly - though her eyes flick away quickly enough, trying to keep on top of things as she rocks from foot to foot to lessen the heat of the hatching sands.

Ailisha repeats the nickname Eslyn's offered her as a question, "Nan?" as if not yet sure whether it applies to her or some member of Eslyn's extended family. As the girl is shushed by the weak-stomached one from Nerat, Ailisha flashes a side smile at Eslyn, "Well, let's make a point of dodging if we're in the least bit of doubt then...I've no desire to spend any length of time in the infirmary." She shifts her gaze from fellow candidate back to hatching eggs, surprised at how much change a few moments of inattention have wrought - a tumbled brown and a new-emerged blue!

Bobbing his head between all the activities almost makes Gustive look like he has a nervous tick. "Poor brown, reminds me of me..." He smiles Aiemera and then leans forward to get a better look at the hatchlings. "More exciting? I think I would explode."

"Hey," V'lano murmurs to Griere. "Look." It's far too late for his pointing to mean that first Impression - he just waggles the finger about to indicate everything happening, the whole merry chaos. And still he grins, while Volath puffs a breath at Aerianth in trade for the one the pale queen bestowed upon her own rider.

Debonair Bourbon Brown chirrups, entranced, at the tail that's still twitching right in the fore of his line of vision, as though he's not entirely sure whether that's one of his appendages or not. The spill seems not to have damaged him at all, and once the tail's movements have bored him he hefts himself once more to his feet and trots along his merry way, past a few rows of disappointed candidates. The trotting is interrupted when one of his sails--which he has by now learned to keep mostly still--gets caught underfoot, and nearly sends him headlong yet again. It's only by some lucky chance that a nearby mound of sand, whose egg has recent left it, is right in his way.

Aiemera laughs quietly, "You know, I'd thought the same, but didn't say so." For his sake. Libra continues pointing at the blue, even shuffling extraneously within the sand, though the heat is quick to wear upon her, leaving her still - but still mouthy. "It'll get more so.... if any of them decide to come our way."

Cynara hrms. "The brown is very handsome...or he will be, once he works out what he's doing and stops falling over his own wings. He needs to find his lifemate to help him." A brown. One color she hasn't thought about that much, but she hasn't forgotten the blue either. She tenses a little, ready to make sure that, say, that brown doesn't stumble right into /her/.

Prodigal Prussian Blue Hatchling knows that somewhere out there, there must be food - and he's out to find it. He squares his foreshoulders and sets his wings into a sleek arch along his back, then stalks out onto the less lumpy sands where candidates await. But they're not his target, not yet - once clear of the shards of his shell and others', he turns about and gazes up, glaring at his dam and sire. All right: where's the food?! Finding no answer in their huge forms, the little hatchling snorts, maw curving in a draconic sneer, and rights himself roundabout. Maybe one of those white things has it.

Naemyr misinterprets what Ailisha has said, nothing unusual from the din of all this activity. "You have to go to the infirmary?" he asks, leaning forward past Nolee to scan for red stuff. "Did someone get hurt already?" He's definitely confused, several blinks given.

Falyn swivels his head, looking left to right as he tries to keep both rocking eggs and newly hatched dragons in his sights. His expression is both fascinated and wary, as he watches and waits.

Eslyn's raven locks in the mussy runner tail swing back and forth as she shakes her head again - watching as a hunter in the jungle for any potential movement in her direction that might need to be dodged. "Sharding right, Nan - and least ways would you want to not leave the sands at all." The Nerat girl a place to the side of Eslyn wails quietly at the thought.

Iaril starts as the Egg leaps, "What!??" The he sees the Brown stumble, "Clumsy thing! Just watch out he doesn't try an' catch himself on you!" He says to no one in perticular - himself? - And the Blue... he better find someone before he eats someone! Look at those whiring eyes!"

The varied patterns of the Nice Legs Egg seem to blur into muddy hues as it goes spinning in its sandy cradle. Perhaps the heat caused by this frantic friction contributes to the hatchling's effort to emerge - the egg breaks from the bottom up, falling away in wet shards to reveal a sassy green topped by an eggshell hat. She pauses for a moment, eyelids fluttering shut and open in triad layers of confusion, before the whirling facets of her gaze clear and she shakes the shell free from her finely arched headknobs.

Verdigris has claimed this dragon's hide, occluding a warm sheen that flashes beneath like the auroral glow of copper. As it fades around her belly and stretches across graceful wingsails, the color is unmarred but for that faint glimmer of ruddy light. Pale, powdery green is thickest as it accumulates about her neckridges and sculpted headknobs with an opaque softness. She's more striking than classically beautiful, sinuously lissome, fine boned and subtly muscled. A cuprous blaze appears to have been scratched through the pale patina to reveal a gleam of copper on her forehead, adding to the almost fierce, defiant intensity of her gaze, a nearly hypnotic pairing of whirling facets and that still fire above them. Her every movement appears consciously calculated to add to this effect, like a clever performer trying to work the spotlight and coyly lure an audience under her spell.

Ellery catches a few phrases here and looks sternly at the patch of candidates bandying them about; namely Ailisha, Eslyn, and Naemyr. "We'll have no trips to the infirmary as long as you keep your heads on straight and your eyes on the dragonets." She's following her own advice, in fact, eyes skimming the area ahead of the white-robed lads and lasses for any wayward dragonets.

I'sai mutters at K'tdan, "Good thing - ... ... - Kaimisdan - more sleep - "

Nolee catches the near-tripping of the debonair brown as he parades about, raising her free hand encouragingly while shaking hot sand from her sandals. "He sure does!" she agrees with Cynara, "He's almost as clumsy as me! Maybe he'll find someone with good eyesight to help him. Wait, hunh? Hurt, already?" Nolee checks herself, then Iaril, for telltale red. "Don't think so. Oh, look, another one's out, and isn't she pretty."

Gustive gets a better look at the brown, admiring the frothy ale tones. "He's a very handsome one despite the clumsiness," he quips to Aiemera with a wink, nervous still, despite his jokes. "Wait, look at the new green, I like her copper tones, very pretty."

Iaril oohs, "A Green! Kinda cute one, too!" He smiles and, then hearing the chatter frowns, "Who got hurt? Bad..??" He looks around to see what happened.

"I'm looking, I'm looking," Griere says, almost impatiently. She's quiet for a moment, a hand reaching for her queen's lowered head. "It's amazing."

Aiemera's attention is fine spent by this point, and Gustive might find such relays to the pressure exherted upon his hand as she absently squeezes it. Libra is spared such a fate, though begins more wild pointing as her energy replenishes itself, and the green appears. More hopping ensues, which tugs upon Aiem's hand, though Aiemera patiently tolerates such as she attempts to quiet the younger candidate. In aside to Gus, Aiem nods eagerly. "He is something else, Gustive, I agree with you there. They all are... something, I think." The best way to put it, right?

Makare gapes at the green "Look at that one, so pretty." Brown and blue are momentarily forgotten as she watches the green "I bet she's gonna be one handful, just look at her."

Ailisha can't help but chuckle softly at Eslyn's morbid speculations, adding, "I can see how that one might get you even without meaning to," she says of the brown on the sands, completely missing the first green to appear on the scene. Naemyr's tone of voice more than his actual words drag the former Igenite's attention back to the other side, "What's that? Ulie's going to the inf..." she breaks off at Ellery's instructions and pivots back to looking ahead at the sands, "A green!" she utters in surprise. Where do they all come from?

The Debonair Bourbon Brown should be a piteous wreck of a thing, after all he's been through on the sands. However, he still burbles along quite happily, tail swishing along behind him and wings bouncing in time to his step. The young dragon burbles right up to a rather tall white thing who has white on top, as well. There he plops himself down, broad muzzle pointed straight at the young man's nose.

Cynara nods. "They're all attractive," she notes to Nolee, she shakes some sand off her feet, as if Nolee's action was catching. "I think the brown's making his choice, though." Which means that the attention has to go to the blue and green, although divided equally between the two.

Makare nods as she hears Cynara's comment to Nolee "I think your right, can you see who?"

Eslyn cants her head slightly to one side as she catches sight of the green's entrance. "Looks kinda like Dulci." She comments before her head pulls so as she can look over at Ellery. Then there's a faint grin on her dirt-smudged face and she looks to the dragonets once more, replying in a thoughtful tone to Ailisha, "They are only babies after all."

Naemyr mouths a 'yes'm' to Ellery, but he's still bending forward to survey the Candidates close by him for tell-tale redness. "Well, I guess everyone's all right." That said, he turns to send a curious look to Ailisha. "Green? Where?"

Not this one. Not this one. Not this one, either. The Prodigal Prussian Blue glowers in turn at each of three candidates who don't seem to be offering him food. A few steps past another small group he halts, then turns around slowly, a stalker's growl rolling around on the back of his tongue. It's just too much to take. His temper breaks; he turns around and by chance there's Iaril. In a flash the blue's rearing up, looming over him, a cursory snort confirming that /this/ one doesn't have food /either/. A careless slap of a heavy forepaw resounds against the boy's forehead. Even as the hatchling snarls and turns away in disgust to look elsewhere, a purple bruise and a slick drip of blood well up where the candidate was struck.

Gustive looks around, trying to sigh anyone injured but sees none so he turns around to glance at the other Candidates when suddenly his eyes go a bit bleary. Faultering, he nearly falls to the sands, one hand touching his head in a confused manner. He stares forward, right into the red whirling red eyes of his new friend for life. Reaching forward, he strokes the still slightly wet hide of the brown before hi, "Cansoth! Of course, our time is *aleays*." G'tive wraps his arms around Cansoth before he stands and helps his lifemate from the sands to the food he so desperately wants.

"Of course it's amazing," V'lano murmurs. "They're ours. Or - they were - " As the second of the browns finds his new life partner among the candidates, the bronzerider's grin goes wry and crooked, and after a moment he has to look away from the new pairing. His gaze slides up Volath's side and after a moment, the sire bends his head low to his own rider's hand, like a swan in mirror-image to his mate.

Aiemera quickly releases Gus' hand, stepping back and aside with Libra in tow. Gustive is offered the most warm of smiles, though comment is withheld for the moment. Libra, on the other hand, watches as the blue strikes Iaril and elicits a small cry that sends her against Aiem's side. In belated fashion, the older girl looks toward the striken boy, her features contorting with a soft expression. Rather then rush forward, she roots herself in spot, and murmurs consolingly toward a shaken Libra.

Makare claps her hands "IT's Gustive that impressed the brown...but that blue just knocked someone in the head it looks like." speaking to Cynara and anyone else close enough to hear "I hope he's okay."

K'tdan steps over to G'tive and Cansoth. "He's a fine looking dragon," he tells the weyrling. "There's food over here. I imagine he's quite hungry." K'tdan leads the pair towards the corner.

K'tdan walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
K'tdan has left.

Falyn's gasp this time is considerably louder as the blue hits Iaril on the head. His gaze on the green and the blue are even more wary now, though he does offer G'tive a quiet congratulations as he Impresses the brown.

Cynara notices who the brown chooses. She starts, "Congrat..." and then it dies on the curly-haired girl's lips as Iaril is struck. Turning, she takes a small step towards him, but just one, her eyes fixing on the angry blue as if by doing so she could will him to find his lifemate. "Healers!" she calls, trying to draw their attention to the incident, not sure, yet, if Iaril's okay.

Nolee shakes her head, "How can you tell who they pick? In the eyes?" She squints across the sands, "And I don't see anyone being carried off, so maybe no one hurt yet and--" Speaking too soon, she drops Iaril's hand and falls backward as he's smacked by the blue, voicing a shrill scream and scrabbling quickly backwards.

Gustive walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Gustive has left.

Ailisha has begun to shift foot to foot, not so much shuffling yet, as lifting one, rubbing it against the back of her leg and putting it down. A few moments later, the process repeats with the other side. "Big, hungry, somewhat ill-tempered babies at times," Ailisha says in a low voice as she sees what happens a few paces off between the imperious blue and Iaril.

Iaril's hand shoots to his head as he drops down to his knees to avoid further injury "SHARDS!" he exclaims as blood oozes between his fingers, "Watchit you Blue Wh---" He stops himself before saying soemthing stupid. Pressing his hand into the bleeding bruise he gets back to his feet.

Eslyn catches the violence from blue to boy, eyes flicking open wider, "Is he okay?" She murmurs towards Ailisha, as if the elder candidate would know better, but then more attention is paid to that blue - in case his temper should flare again. "So much for folks trying to say dragons're all good tempered, but then--" And she starts to mumble to herself of the various things Mam and Da have said.

Cansoth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Cansoth has left.

Twilight's Dream Egg trembles in the sand, twisting side to side as it rocks, the occupant growing restless. A rapid series of jabs against the constraining shell are made by the dragonet within, before the egg stills itself once again, leaving small ridges in the sand at its base.

Naemyr is pulled along with Nolee as she scurries backward, agast at what happened to Iaril. "See? I knew there was blood around here!" he mutters to himself, voice ladened with concern and fear. "Think he's all right? Never did I realize what this would be like!"

Patina Spotlight Green takes a moment to gather herself, eyes half-lidded as she inspects first the shards of her shell then the Sands beneath it, lids blinking in slow contemplation. Eventually, her attention wanders to take in the larger picture of dragons and humans and white-robed Candidates, all eyes turned inward toward the clutch (an coincidentally to her), her neck snaking sinously as she tries to take it all in. Abruptly, resolutely, she lowers her head just a little, and freezes briefly in place, the light playing off the blaze on her forehead. Yes....it's _showtime_.

Aiemera manages to quiet Libra enough that the girl withdraws from her press against Aiem's side. Still, a tight and healthy hold is held upon Aiemera's hand while she watches with wide-open eyes. Aiemera nearly mimicks such, though her attention shifts reluctantly between each unhatched egg and the blue and green upon the sands. Silence is now her motto, held to as she nibbles nervously upon her lower lip.

I'sai grimaces, stepping forward - then just stops; the new-made weyrlings're in tow, after all, and as he mentions to Jillah, "He stood back up. That's something. Wonder how much we'll see of that."

Ailisha answers, though no wiser than any of her fellow candidates on matters hatching-related, "He's talking, that a good thing." Like Eslyn, she tracks the ill-tempered blue's progression more closely now, silently offering out her hand to the younger girl if she'd like to have it.

Nolee tries to stand, scrabbling to balance properly. Sand clings to her robe down her back and across her knees, and her wide, terrified eyes watch Iaril and that dangerous blue, "I'm not sure. Iaril? Y--you okay? Keep watching his claws until he goes away, and try to duck if he swings again," she encourages through chattering teeth.

Iaril keeps his hand pressed to the wound, "I think.. I think I'm fine." He looks around, "Not going anywhere until this's over.." He blinks a few droplets of blood out of his eyes. "I have to be - okay, that is."OM

Makare watches the green and blue then back to the green "She's moving and posing it seems." feet are lifted, shaked and set back down one by one "Blast it's hot out here. Is Iaril alright down there?"

Jillah hehs, and watches the frenized activity with eyes that are squinted against the heat and flying sand. "Well, better than when I Stood, so far. Lost one to a bad raking."

The Prodigal Prussian Blue stalks around the foodless candidates, angrily swirling eyes reflecting anything, everything except those offensive white-sacked beings. But in those irate facets, one particular image persists. The heavy eyeridges sail up, and suddenly the hatchling's eyes shine the clearest river's blue. His body struggles to follow the path his mind has already traveled, talons sending sand flying in his rush to reach and claim the one who is now his. A low, sweet croon breaks from his throat, kindly in contrast to his bloody behavior thus far.

Cynara tenses as the blue begins to move, ready to move quickly to the side should his route take him /through/ her. They do that, and this one already whacked Iaril one. He seems to be okay, though. A deep breath is taken, and all focus, again, on the hatchlings, especially the blue...she /was/ rather close to Iaril when he got hit.

"_Lost_ - altogether?" I'sai asks, only to sigh in relief as the Prussian Blue bypasses a skin-and-bones girl who doesn't look as though she's gotten sleep in a Turn.

Griere just blinks at the young blue. "They're so violent. I forgot. All this time I kept thinking of little babies.. I hope Iaril is alright." She gets up on her toes to see better.

Falyn darts quick glances at Iaril, trying to be sure the other candidate is alright while at the same time trying to be sure he doesn't fall victim to the same fate.

Aiemera's shoulders slowly sink as the heat and environmental knowledge begin to sink in. Not quite melting upon the sands, though almost appearing to, she draws her free arm around herself in attempt to make herself appear smaller. Libra is still watched and half-hovered over, Aiem giving a soft sigh of relief as the blue Impresses - "See now? Nothing to worry about." To Libra, that quiet assurance.

A-shake. A-shake-a-shake. A-shake, rattle and roll, and the Colors Changing Hue Egg is blurring its landscape as it tries to tumble out of its sandy cradle. One thin sideways spinnerweb crackles across the landscape surface of the egg, marring and reshaping it. Thin crumbles of shell drop to the sands, and Misunderstood Artist Green is loosed upon the whole of Pern. Shy at first, she steps free of the shells, leaving some fragments clinging between her talons. Slipping down the side of the sandy mound is a pleasant surprise, and soon, she's plying a swath through the sands with her agile tail, making right for a tall, stocky lad from the Seacraft. His hands, bathed already in sweat, embrace his new sweetheart, and freckled Whenal, now W'nal, calls out, "Vinclaeth!"

Jillah watches the blue and answers absently, "Didn't die, but taken off the Sands, ayeh." She trails off into silence as she waits... and smiles other Impressions are made. "Going fast. Good."

Nolee grabs the rather low hemline of her robe, and hauls on it, pulling at it until a strip of the old, yellowed cloth tears free, leaving it still reaching to her knees. "Here, Iaril. That's the spirit. Think of a hot bath later, and a big feast, and use this to clear your eyes?"

Whether Eslyn would have taken Ailisha's offered hand or not is never known because the girl doesn't have time to move before she's caught up in - something - her expression contorting in confusion and then blinking she finds the blue standing in front of her, "What do you mean, Rocorth? I did too see you, I've only been watching you the whole sharding time." 'Course that's not entirely true but it doesn't matter to her.

"Got it - " and I'sai disappears to get W'nal and his new green situated over there in the corner, calling back to Jillah, "Go ahead and take the next one."

Makare claps again as the blue impresses "Congratulations Eslyn." is called out to the girl and her dragon "Where'd the green go? Anymore eggs moving?"

V'lano, distractably looking away from the scene in an effort to keep his reactions relatively unemotional, is startled by Griere's remark. He steps forward, hand falling from Volath's velvet muzzle, to consider the blue's bloodied victim - and his new, less cruelly treated counterpart. "They can't help it," he offers, quietly.

Naemyr does the two-step, trying to jig his way to cool feet. It's not happening, though, so he tries leaning to this side then that, just in time to see Whenal impress. "Look, I think there's another one. And a green! No, this mustn't be an all brown clutch. Eslyn? Hey, congratulations!" is called out to her.

Cynara relaxes a bit. "Wow," she says after a moment, "I would never have pegged Eslyn for a blue...but he's gorgeous." Her tone sounds somewhat envious, as she turns her attention back to the clutch and to the unImpressed green.

Ailisha is so caught up in watching the blue's trajectory, particularly as he takes off across the sands at his lifemate-to-be right beside her as if he really would go through anything that dared stand in his way, that it with a start and a gasp that she realizes Whenal...W'nal's Impressed! And green! Ailisha turns to gape, a smile forming, "Oh how good for you! See, I told you you'd find the right girl eventually!" She blinks as her other side is vacated as well, leaving her standing quite alone now, "Oh, Es!" she proclaims.

Iaril nods a weak smile to Nolee, Thanks.." He takes the bit of cloth and wipes what he can of the blood from his forehead, "Figgers /She'd/ get htat mean-and-nasty Blue!" he mutters, but musters a cal lof "C'grats, Eslyn!" go the new weyrling.

Twilight's Dream Egg seems almost to bounce in its sandy cradle, lifting and resettling in several abrupt motions. After a few of these the cause becomes apparent - the infant dragon inside is bodily slamming himself against the inside of the shell's apex. The egg distorts with each shake until finally the top simply blows off, leaving the rest of the shards to fall away from a damp, startled-looking brown.

Jillah heads over towards where Eslyn is having a little first moment of love chat with her blue. She stoops down slightly and smiles, "Hey, Eslyn. Welcome Rocorth. Let's get you out of this insanity and to some food, shall we?" She straightens up, and escorts the pair off to the corner.

Sunset and flame blaze across the sleek hide of this young brown, fiery tones of red and sienna casting a warm, deep glow upon him from below. It is brightest over his wide, barrel chest and along the sinuous stretch of his tail, while smoke seems to wisp from those inner fires up onto darker neckridges and sooty wingsails. The curve of his neck and the play of muscle beneath his haunches holds the promise of later power to develop within this compact frame. Lithe limbs and long wings offer little opportunity for awkwardness, even in youth. Despite all this beauty, his most noticeable features are those which most lend him character: broad, long-toed paws tipped with pale, slender talons and large, protruding eyes that bug out from beneath smoky 'ridges.

Eslyn walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Eslyn has left.

Rocorth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Rocorth has left.

Falyn congratulates Eslyn and her new blue as well, before turning to watch the sands. He wipes a little sweat from his forehead and then onto his robe, shifting from one foot to the other.

Nolee, standing now, absently brushes some of the sand from her lower back and knees, though her concentration is toward the sands, eyes squinting to follow the dangerous hatchlings. "Look, Whenal, congrats! And Eslyn--maybe she's strong enough to control that one's claws. Say, Falyn, is that new one red or brown? And look at his big eyes! He'll be easier to keep watch on."

Aiemera casts another look over her shoulder, gallery wards. The people are studied, passed quickly by before she resumes watching the eggs and hatchlings, though with that self-same bothered expression worn. Libra's hand is clutched in a means of distraction, and a soft-hearted smile from Aiem ensues, "It'll be over soon, Libra. No need to be afraid, alright?" Another murmur to herself passes, followed with the self-conscious shifting of her form upon the sands, and another tightening of that arm around her middle.

Shrouded Night Egg tips slowly, then increasingly quickly, to an audible thud from within. A rift races up its side, splintering into tinier cracks, as it starts to teeter into the egg next to it.

Patina Spotlight Green slinks across the Sands, her every movement slow, deliberate, full of poise and grace. She hangs low and close to the ground, nearly slithering as she nears the closest of the Candidates, raising her head only when she gets closer, inspecting them with something almost akin to cool disdain. One of the girls steps fprward, an arm outstretched toward her lovely hide, and the dragonet allows her to move closer...closer....and then wheels away in a spray of dark sand. The message is clear -- _my_ decision. _I_ choose. Turning her back on the forward Candidate, she slinks to the other side of the ring of white-robed figures, taking the time to inspect each one. Her gaze alights on a pair of figures, standing close. Perhaps one of them will do....yes, _that_ one, there.... The slight green, her decision made, heads straight for the couple.

Makare eyes the newest addition on the sands with a quick look before gazing back at the remainder of the eggs then the green "I can't believe how fast it's all going. I wonder where that green will go."

Cynara nods. "I think she is. I had her pegged for brown. Or the gold, if there was one." And yes, she says that despite the fact that she can't stand the girl. Cynara relaxes, despite the heat, she shifts position a little, regarding brown and green, regarding unhatched eggs as they rapidly diminish in numbers. "It always goes fast," she adds, almost, but not quite sadly, and her eyes flick to a certain egg. The one V'lano is worried won't hatch.

Claia heads out towards the entrance.
Claia has left.

Naemyr has been taking it all in - the galleries, the eggs, the weyrlingmasters taking the pairs out, even the dam and sire. "Cynara, what goes fast?" he asks, not hearing part of the conversation. His robe is adjusted, shifted more to the right shoulder as he leans over to look at his sandals. "Well, they're still there, not burnt off yet."

Iaril nods, "Whatever. She'd have to have one with a temper and she does." He looks at the newly-Hatched dragons, "I hope that one's looking for something other than food! I don' think I wanna get hit by another one!"

Patina Spotlight Green Hatchling draws her wings up in an arch over her back, tucking them out of harm's way for one last investigation of the white-clad offerings placed in high contrast against the black sand for her thoughtful perusal. A strange dragon-smile parts her maw, leaving her jaw lazy and slack while she considers her choices, head swinging forth and back in a slow pendulum sway. The movement slows to a halt as her gaze fixes firm upon her future's desire. And then, her request made, she straightens back onto her haunches and allows her new companion to come to her.

Nolee tilts her head sideways, frowning, giving Iaril a worried look. "You're lucky you still have both your eyes." Fear still tinges her words, and with relief, she seizes upon a new subject: the green. "At least that one only threw sand." Naemyr's mention of sandals has her feet a-wiggle again in search of cooling air.

Ailisha edges a little closer to wear Nolee stands beside Iaril and Naemyr. Strength in numbers, perhaps. She seems a bit glazed by all the activity occurring around the sands. Then her eyes catch on movement behind the current hatchlings en route to their lifemates...a black egg with just the merest sliver of yellowed light, "Look," she points out to no one in particular, "That egg I was touching was moving..." However, she can't speculate on it long, as she spots the primadonna green finally imparts her choice.

Makare cranes her head about "Did that green impress? It looks like she did but I can't tell." Hot feet are given some shakes and one of the candidates sandals comes loose, the laces now trapped between the sand that the bottum of the sandal.

Cynara shakes her head a little as the green appears to be chosing. "Hatchings, they go fast." She smiles sadly again, her eyes resting on that green egg. "And it's...for the best." For some reason, she steps back a little from the other candidates, acting almost as if she doesn't /want/ to be chosen? Iaril does get a brief look of concern, but he's alert and talking. No biggie.

"Is she the one with the temper? When I saw them I thought the temperamental one was - " But whichever one of the candidates was -actually- an angry young woman in V'lano's perspective is lost to silence while the clutchsire's rider catches sight of the green's strange behavior - and like a few others, the Telgari falls silent, watching and waiting to see if the result will prove true.

Aiemera's eyes all but roll upward in startlement and complete disorientation. Libra is forgotten as Aiemera releases her hand and moves quietly forward. Without explanation either. Whether drawn by an invisible hand or a call heard only by her, Aiemera steps up to the green, her knees giving out at the last instant so Aiemera lands softly (though with soon to be scorched knees) before Arukath, her hands hesitantly twisting about one another and /not/ the green. All that's said is a simple, "I didn't know, Arukath... I didn't know." Libra? The poor girl looks helpless and about ready to cry until a blonde haired girl pulls the younger candidate toward her waiting group.

Naemyr makes room for Ailisha, peering out in the direction of the indicated egg. "I think it is, yeah!" he notes, then calls to Cynara, "Hey, don't you think you should stay close to us? Whoo! Hey, look! Aiem's been found! Congrats, Aiem!"

Brooding Blazed Brown shakes his head about vigorously, eyelids fluttering to clear themselves as he adjusts to the unfamiliar and far larger surroundings than his previous one. He cranes his neck about, peering over the others of his kind and toward the surprisingly more interesting beings in white, wings extending for a drying flutter before folding back in against him. He begins to take his first few steps, claws clattering against bits of eggshell as he moves along the sand in search of his first meal and something else he's starting to realize would be worth seeking.

Makare cheers softly "Congrats Aiemera. She's a real beauty." comes as the candidate shifts her feet again then pauses her movments to crouch and tie the lacing of her sandal again.

Cynara smiles over at Aiemera. "No...I'll be fine over here, Naemyr." A little further away from the clutch, although she's still keeping an eye on any unimpressed hatchlings. "It's not like I can go far, right?"

I'sai quickly crosses the sands - "S'all right, Aiemera. 'Aru- ' what? Get up off those sands, bring your dragon -that- way, we've got a quieter place just for you." And all the other hungry, creeling young dragons.

Aiemera is immediately obedient, her green as well...but simply by need to eat. The pair disappear along with I'sai.

Aiemera walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Aiemera has left.

Falyn watches the brown dragon move over the sands, and thus misses Aiemera's impression. The words of congratulation do reach him though, and he hastily adds his own as the two head off the sands.

Nolee offers a welcoming smile as Ailisha approaches, "Might you have something he could put on that less smelly than numbweed, after?" She starts to second Naemyr's invite, instead sucking in a breath of air at Aiemera's bravery, or foolishness? "Did they--oh! They found each other. I was afraid she'd get hurt going out there like that!"

I'sai returns a little while later, the new pair seen to by K'tdan and B'ryce, now, with H'rel moving back onto the sands; he scans the territory, checking who's left, whether there's blood, whether there's ichor.

Ailisha claps her hands together is excitement as the showy young green ensnares Aiemera's eternal affections, "Oh Dud won't be pleased, but..." she shrugs, flashing a quick smile sideways at Naemyr and Nolee, adding, "I might for later in the healing process, but with bleeding, healers really know best," she advises before returning her gaze to the hatchlings on the sands, "I rather like that brown...though he's a bit like Kyubith in appearance, I hope not in temper."

At last the Shrouded Night Egg shatters, tiny arrowhead fragments falling along the one great fault line, black as the sands they land upon. The remaining inky halves hold together for one last moment, before - just above the slant of yellowed shell - a tawny muzzle pokes out, the warm yellow-gold of raw sienna, and snorts egg fluid out of her nose. And then they fall. And then she's freed.

Above all else, the tawny young queen is comfortable in her own skin. The warm yellow-gold of raw sienna, it lends a velvety feel to the clean lines of her body that might otherwise seem too compact, too cold; when her narrow muzzle is lowered, or her wings furled, it creases in rippling folds that must be grown into as much as her paws and tail. Those large paws do also steady her, though, while ingenuous eyes enlighten her, and flexible joints help her twist and turn in seemingly boneless curves. Along the sinewy bases of her wings, a darker, smoky gold spirals upward, gradually diffusing into a diaphanous haze across their expansive sails; however, a few dark cinder-spots mar her neckridges, and yet another marks one solid, shapely flank. Not that such personal, physical things seem to concern her, for she's all eyes for the wide, wide world.

Iaril winces and puts his hand back to his head, "Sorta throbs... " He dabs at his head with the bit of cloth. He looks at Nolee, then sees the Gold Hatch and gasps, "A Gold! Look!"

Naemyr points out to the brown, "That one? I would say an amazingly handsome one, actually. See how he moves?" is asked aloud, though he brings forth a mutter when another egg cracks. "Whoowee.. No, definitely not an all-brown clutch.."

Arukath walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Arukath has left.

Cynara turns as the gold hatches. She regards her for a long moment, then, very quietly, "/You/ should have picked her." It's quite likely none of the candidates heard, as she pulled herself so far away from the circle, and now, she's just watching that egg, and equally quietly, "Hatch..."

Makare stops stalk still "Gold, see I told you there was a gold in this clutch Cynara."

Nolee laughs to Aili, "I bet he won't, since Aiemera's bound to stay here, now." Her focus drifts to Makare, kneeling, and she urges the girl, "Look out, you never know where they'll claw next." Heeding her own advice, she looks again toward the moving hatchlings with trepidation. "No, not all brown at all. Just all with claws."

Falyn studies the hatching of the gold silently, before he says to Iaril, "It doesnt look too bad," gesturing at his head. And then he's quiet again, watching moving dragonets and rocking eggs.

Brooding Blazed Brown shuffles across the sand with a purpose in mind, though from the way his head swings from one cluster of white-clad beings to the other, it would seem that he's not sure what he's seeking quite yet. His tail lifts momentarily, letting a piece of shattered shell rest on the sand behind him as he continues to move, eyes whirling as they sweep across the clusters of white before him.

Ailisha would be hard-pressed to not notice the most recent arrival on the sands, looking almost aghast, "That's what was in there? Jays, she's lovely, but she looks like a handful." She grin sidelong at Nolee, "Well, now he'll have to come and visit instead of acting like he doesn't care, at least...you would think he would. I don't pretend to understand all men. Like that one, whoever is he looking for?" she says gesturing out to the stout-chested brown.

Bed of Flowers Egg pulses, with life, with joy, with hope. As if there's some drum throbbing hard, or a heart beating, or a dancer spinning. No one crack develops, it's an explosion, shards of the egg flying out in an exuberant blossoming, shell flowers raining in celebration of the arrival of the egg's inhabitant, stage center, high on life.

Iaril shrugs and nods. "Sure does hurt, though.." He looks toward the moving hatchling and bites his lower lip, "THey sh' give us some meat or somethin' - y'know, for emergencies. These babies ar /hungry!/ -- I don' like being their meal."

Naemyr actually squats, as the egg's shards spray about the area, just in case one comes flying in his direction. "Yikes. I think they should teach us how to duck! Or something."

Makare keeps watch on eggs, brown and gold while wincing as her feet feel like they're frying.

Soulful Sienna-Smoke Gold holds very still for a moment, all but for her shaking, panting breath - and then she inhales more deeply, her eyes beginning to whirl a less dizzying red. She sways on large feet and looks up into the galleries, then back to those nearer her, before taking a decisive step forward that sheds little black shards like so many obsidian crumbs. Another step, this one towards her shuffling brother. Another... and then, sidetracked, she stops and snuffles at the bits of shards and such that crunch beneath her claws, haunches high in the air, that long tail of hers dragging.

Cynara keeps back, to where she's pulled back to. Gold is regarded through a couple of stray curls. Brown is also watched, as is the new egg moving, dancing. The odd expression she's been wearing is suddenly driven away, as she can't help but smile, and let the cloud clear from her mood. She takes one step back towards the circle, but she's eyeing the gold /very/ warily.

Nolee watches the shuffler, then casts a sidelong glance toward Naemyr as though considering hiding behind him if the questing brown should meander their way. "A meal? A friend?" she guesses, wary of the pair of hatchlings moving. "I'd be more afraid if we held meat, they'd chew on us instead. Maybe they can smell our feet burning."

Bed of Wildflowers Egg develops, a bit suddenly, a hole. A single rose-red blossom just pops out from its kin, picked by an invisible hand for an unknown bouquet, leaving behind a tiny window into the murky depths of the egg's interior. But of course the surface tension on the goo inside breaks and slick egg-stuff drains down the shell's surface just before a new-leaf muzzle protrudes through. The pressure proves too much, and the egg breaks apart into so many floral shards, a brilliantly-hued little hatchling revealed in their fallen midst.

Small though she is, the dragon's eye-catching color is bright enough for two: a brilliant yellow-green, with a shine to it like cut glass, that sets off her athletic frame. That fine hide highlights rather than conceals the sinewy play of muscle beneath it, not darkening in the least from sharp, slender muzzle to the snaky curve of tail. Her paws are small, her talons laced with a subtly darker hue as if caught within netting; upon them she can be not just agile but hesitant, even brooding. But the ground is just the beginning: her wings are exuberant flounces touched with lacy rose-gilt, both effective and feminine, like the effortless rainbows of her eyes.

Makare claps "Another green, she and the gold are real classy."

Naemyr grins over to Makare. "And that brown? I would say he's classy too! Hmm. Or is that a girly-term?" Looking to Iaril and Falyn, he winks, then goes back to watching the newly hatched.

Ailisha has to second Nolee, "I would think holding a snack would confuse them all the more," she echos the blonde candidate's words as she pivots her gaze from the sole male trudging around in search of his mate to the newest arrival, "Classy? I'd say sharp, but not in a bad way..." she speculates.

Brooding Blazed Brown Hatchling startles and seems to focus on something, tipping his head up and to the side as if listening. Swiftly, he swaggers through the sand, tail describing a sinuous trail behind him. He veers toward a group of candidates, only to show off the gape of his maw in a huge yawn. Just as he's turning away, his jaw snaps shut, the clack of teeth meeting teeth echoing over the grounds. Sharply, he turns his head back toward one candidate in particular, one whose bloodied reflection whirls in the facets of hungry eyes.

Cynara shakes her head, and finally steps back over. "Boys aren't classy, they're handsome. But she is...gorgeous. Reminds me of Kirstie's green when she hatched. I have this feeling I'll be seeing more of her soon. Kirstie, that is." Given up? No, but at this point, the odds are becoming slimmer and realism is a good thing.

Nolee scratches her nose, thinking on this. "Classy? That means they have grace, are elegant?" She tries to adopt a faux poise, though her concern about the activity on the dark sands beyond and that loud clacking jaw cut it short in another startled gasp. "Watch the eyes, watch out for the...jaws." Gulp.

V'lano runs a hand over Griere's shoulder, then sidesteps to lean into Volath's nearer haunch. "You did it again," he murmurs, quietly, for his bronze alone to hear - but Volath trembles with a rumbling laughter that sets a deep vibrato into the hatching-day hum, not in the least bit subdued.

Makare chuckles "Classy, beautiful, snappy looking...it's all good." eyes dance over the sands and remaining candidates not realizing that as she moves about her laces on her sandals have both come undone.

Griere is still blinking in shock and instead of congratulations, she turns a scolding look on her lifemate. "Aerianth, did you know about that egg?" But of course Aerianth just blows at Griere's curls smugly.

Naemyr notes all the 'classy' comments, nodding to each one. "Yeah, girly-terms, I guess." is replied with a grin then he's back to doing hip-hop to some deeply inner tune.

Soulful Sienna-Smoke Gold all at once lifts her head from those now-forgotten shards, headknobs tilting forward, and wobbles until she can get her wings up just enough to move, her paws up just enough to let them steady her instead of get in her way. Even if it means moving more slowly than her siblings, heedless of wary glances, comments, or even particularly stinky feet. At the clack of jaws, though, her pace quickens and she snorts with gusto, arching her neck for the first time and then arching it a little higher, tail's tip flicking as she tries an actual bound towards those girls in the fringes of the group.

I'ril takes his hand away from his still-bleeding wound and puts it out to touch the Brown head in front of him, "My dear Jolth! I'm so sorry... Let's get htat hurt fixed... And food.. yes. We need food." He carresses the brown snout before him.

Ailisha's feet have begun to hurt in earnest now, and she's started swaying a bit, tipping her head sideways to nod acknowledgement to Makare, "Exactly," she agrees, "It all depends what applies." The clickety clack of draconic teeth sets the candidate's on edge as she turns to witness him Impression to the earlier injured Iaril. But she doesn't linger in her watching, instead, hazarding a step back to watch for the lively spring green and the young queen's no doubt equally energetic efforts to find lifemates.

H'rel heads up, "Got a little food," he says gruffly, "Just enough to tide you over to the barracks. Come on... I'ril, is it? and bring your lifemate too."

Makare backs up, stumbling on her laces "The gold is on the move."

Cynara watches the gold, and shifts away from her. It's quite visible, quite clear in her manner. "I noticed." She very, very obviously doesn't want that golden form...or, perhaps, all that she represents. So, instead, she focuses on the so-lively green. That one, that one she would like. But there's an undercurrent of distraction, her eyes keep flicking to the green egg.

Naemyr calls out enthusiastically, "Hey, Iaril! Yeah! Beautiful brown!" He even waves, as if that would mean anything to the newly Impressed.

Irrepressibly Incandescent Green flits, wings out, shaking in a wild little dance of goo and shell fragment-ridding. Where others of her clutchsibs waddle around, plodding with hungry determination, she's looking to fly already. Off to find that one song that will match her own, and she makes a soaring -leap!-...of inches, only to be brought back to ground when she makes landing on a small gold lump of tail that's -in her way-. It only slows her a moment, as she pushes off again leaving no more than a slight dent to show she was there. She's gone without a backward look at her sister.

Nolee echoes, "Snappy," and does a few test-snaps of her fingers, "Like if a Harper impressed one. Then the harper could keep the rhythm, and the dragons could all sing, like today. And that one, she's almost dancing." For the first time, she stares, wide-eyed, up into the galleries, awe at the assembly drawn away as I'ril impresses. "You found one that didn't bite!"

I'ril reluctantly turns his head from Jolth to comprehend what's being said to him. He nods, slowly, almost in s dream and turning bback to the Brown "See.. we can make it all good soon!"

V'lano puts his back to the smug-rumbling bronze, leaning into the sire with shoulderblades to velvet-dappled flank. "Her too, huh," he remarks, but spares Griere a sly wink before turning to see what becomes of this surprise - and of her bounding sister, too.

The Great Mystery Egg gives a meaningful wiggle, digging itself deeper into its sandy embankment. A rattling sound is chased by an odd, mournful howling. When the blue and green top half of the egg lifts straight upward, then plummets over, freed from the bottom, it becomes apparent that the dragonet is stuck inside the upper shell, and is not too happy about it. Scrabbling feet unglue the precocious Midnight Blue, and he flops to the sand, where he pouts before setting out to find someone to console him. His loud, tuneless voice screams out for affection, mourning all that is wrong in the world (namely, his empty belly). At last, he finds a suitable admirer in I'dnyte, who embraces him and shouts in return, "Oilarth! Of course I'll oil your hide - right after we get you something to eat!"

I'ril nods to the Brown, "Yes.. let's go." He turns toward the spot that H'rel indicated.

Ailisha groans as she watches the clutchsisters' antics, "Well, at least they're no kinder to each other than they are to us when they get in each other's way," she observes before peering at Nolee with a quirked brow as she tries to puzzle out what the other girl's said, "What's that about harpers then?" Despite her continue attentiveness to the rapidly emptying sands, the fatigue of maintaining such a hyperaware state seems to make her look a little drawn.

Cynara phews. "You take care of...ow. I hope that green didn't damage the gold's tail...that looks like it hurt." It's still mostly the enthusiastic green she's watching, though. If she ignores the queen, will it go away?

Unnaturally Green Egg doesn't twitch or jerk. It doesn't wobble or sway. It just sits there unmoving, a dead-looking pile of ghastly shades, a sorry, stubborn, silent blot casting its dark shadow on the sands.

Makare moves closer to Cynara or at least tries too "Pretty aren't they. I bet that one of them come for Cynara, I really."

I'ril walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
I'ril has left.

Nolee warily watches the remaining dragonets, moving closer to Ailisha now that I'ril's in the care of Jolth and H'rel. "The dragons are singing today," she enunciates clearly and loudly, "Like a choir of Harpers." Cynara's ow has her anxious again, and it's eyes back to the sands, "Are they playing? Or attacking each other?"

Jolth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Jolth has left.

As B'ryce moves past the Unnaturally Green Egg towards I'dnyte and his lifemate, he reaches out to knock on the shell to see if anything or anyone answers. Luckily for him, after a second look at Aerianth, he doesn't after all.

Soulful Sienna-Smoke Gold reflexively turns around in what's nearly a complete circle, as if her sister's netted claws had yanked her by some invisible string, a creel bitten off in her throat. Her tail lashes, and if it isn't so fluid a motion as before, she doesn't seem to notice as she turns the rest of the way to look at her retreating sister. Her head tosses and, refusing to be daunted, she heads with renewed conviction for the girls and their speaking and snapping and more speaking and oh, all those noises!

Naemyr shifts as well, closing the gap between the remaining Candidates. "Harpers? Do you think Gerand has trained them?" is asked with a grin to Nolee. Going somber, though, he lends an eye to the odd green egg. "I so remember that one from when we went to touch. Remember, Cynara? You and I were by it at the same time."

Makare shifts her feet and nearly ends falling because of her laces "Dratted things." a foot is lifted "Look they won't stayed tied."

Cynara shakes her head. "Keep that gold away from me. I don't want to be a weyrwoman." She takes her eyes off the green, and then...they drift back to that egg. "Besides. I don't care whether I Impress or not...might be best if I don't." She's starting to drift away again. "I care about whether that green egg hatches." She glances at Naemyr, then...she just...looks at the egg again. Falling silent.

Unnaturally Green Egg continues to sit ominously. As nearly all over eggs are in the process of hopping or shivering, this one remains perfectly still. Strange, though, the shadow beneath seems to be growing, spreading over the already dark sand, gleaming liquid in the soft light until it becomes a soggy gelatinous pool.

Ailisha peels her eyes from the hatchling sisters seeming ready to show each other up in their haste to find lifemates to regard the so oft talked about green egg, "Come on now," she encourages, "You've got a lot of people worried, and we all know you can do it."

Nolee ceases snapping, her sweat-soaked hand wiped instead on her robe. "Wouldn't that be a difficult assignment? He'd be promoted again for sure if he could teach a dragon choir to sing." The worried words nearby have her squinting at the mildewy green egg. "Don't worry, Cynara. If she comes this way, we can hide behind Naemyr." A brief pause. "Is she coming this way?"

It's official: the Soulful Sienna-Smoke Gold's gaze locks on a certain pear-shaped girl's, freckles and all, in what just as well might be a pounce. She croons, a quietly husky and somehow intimate sound amidst all the chaos, as her eyes blossom into rainbows of blue.

Falyn has given up on shaking hot sand off his feet, it wasn't doing any good anyway. He watches as the gold seems to have chosen someone, and then his gaze is on that gommy mess emerging from the greenish egg.

Cynara frowns...at the green egg. Is that egg goo, or is it ichor? She can't tell...she takes one step towards it as the gold, thank Faranth, chooses somebody else, relief visible on her face. She's forgotten, pretty much, about the green. "It's...leaking."

Ailisha blinks a few times over before her biggest and truest smile of the evening blossoms brightly across her cheeks, "No time for that now, Nolee!" she beams, "Oh my, what'll When...W'nal think now?!"

Irrepressibly Incandescent Green speeds around the diminished knot of Candidates, head up, and moving in time to some internal beat. She creels in a crystalline, high pitched voice, maybe sending out a Yoohoo to the world. Two hops right, one hop left, one to the center, this girl just wants to have fun... She stops, back-winging so that little eddies of sand fling into the air, and considers while moving side to side, bounce bounce gotta move, gotta dance.

Nolee freezes midway through an effort to use Naemyr as a shield, instead sucking in a short gasping breath. She holds it there, her eyes glazing over with the wet haze of tears, her arms goosebumping despite the heat. At last, she coughs, breathing again, and her head shifts to match her eyes with the dragonet's, gazing into their reflection, her eyes crossing with the effort, hand touching cinderspots on her neckridges. "Nalaieth isn't that frightening, Cynara. You should pet her, like me. Oh. Like me. Oh dear. All those names to memorize now."

Cynara smiles to nolee. "I'm not afraid of her, I just don't want to be a weyrwoman. You...take care of her." She steps away, letting the new weyrling leave her. There's still the green. There's still the leaking egg, but she's calm now...if that's egg goo, it'll hatch, she watches it with the beginnings of hope. And yes, plenty of relief.

Makare grins "Congrats Nolee."

Contained Tempest Egg begins to gyrate slowly in place, its rotating-revolving motion setting the myriad of colors blazed across its shell into a sickening spin. When the rhythmic whirling shows no sign of releasing the egg's inhabitant, it ceases just as it began, slowing, slowing, slowing--stop.

Naemyr eyes Nolee from nearby, then laughs. "Sure, you can hide behind me! Anytime!" That's all cut short as Nolee impresses right beside him. He steps back a little, grin so large it must hurt. "Yeah! Yeahyeah! Whoowee, Nolee!"

"She's sort of a... er... " V'lano fails to find polite words to complete that thought and, shifting closer to Griere to explain his opinion, begins anew. "I've just -never- seen that girl working. About to work. Supposedly having just finished work. But never working." A slow smirk curves the bronzerider's mouth. "Not that it's my problem." Sly, he winks sidelong at the dam's rider, then turns his smug attention back to the eggs and hatchlings on the sands.

Nalaieth gazes at her lifemate for one long moment, and then another, and then she turns to sniff at Cynara and whomever else Nolee points out before butting Nolee firmly in the thigh. Yes, that's the girl who's stuck with her, all right.

Ailisha's waning spirits seem to have at least temporarily been buttressed by Nolee's Impression, "What a beautiful name," she mentions to Naemyr, now visible post-Impression of Ista's newest weyrwoman. She steals a look back at Cynara, "Can't say I blame you there, that's a daunting thought...Nolee'll have her hands full."

The pool beneath the Unnaturally Green Egg starts to ripple, busting rivulets from the soggy mass. That's the only precursor to the sudden explosion of nasty green shell. Bits of egg-fluid and tiny shard fly out, leaving a slick bronze mass still shuddering with the effort of his long-awaited escape.

Such a streamlined bronze should be smooth, shiny, gleaming with molten light; this one refuses the status quo right down to his hide. Although the pale dragon can't escape the sleek build he inherited - a frankly delicate head, sinewy shoulders and narrow flanks, persistently youthful limbs - there's a grittiness about him, a sunbleached, dusty patina that catches and holds light and all but obscures the lustrous metal beneath. Not uniformly so, of course: it thickens into duskiness along his lean belly, and on his translucent wings becomes swirled and marbled with clouds of gilded smoke. The hint of underlying polish even shows, here and there, as if some especially daring hand had risked swiping dust away. A flaxen shine emphasizes offset headknobs, and as sharp, spiked neckridges make a wayward trail down his spine, that same blond highlights each with a point of light. For all that is askew about him, this rebellious lordling wears his rags with heavy-lidded, watchful confidence.

I'sai returns from tidying up one young pair only to find another; he eyes this Nalaieth slantwise, and Nolee - glances up towards the ledges - and finally says, "C'mon. Over there, there's room - " and waves her towards the back corner with the others.

Cynara is, thus, watching the egg when it hatches. Nalaieth sniffing her gets noticed, but only a little bit before...she bursts out into peals of unashamed laughter. "A /bronze/. How the /heck/ did a /bronze/ fit in that tiny egg? And he's /gorgeous/!" Not for her, of course, but gorgeous.

Nolee's hand lingers on the gold's neckridges, exploring the texture with eyes wide in startled awe. "She knows things, too. Maybe she can help me remembe--oof. Ouch! Okay, we can go. Follow where he said." Helpfully, she crosses the sands, still in a daze, moving where directed.

Nolee walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Nolee has left.

Falyn nods agreement, "It musta been a tight fit."

Nalaieth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Nalaieth has left..

Irrepressibly Incandescent Green Hatchling veers from her path toward a group of candidates, only to seemingly change her mind and slink around them. Her eyes swirl every imagined hue, reflecting young people in gowns turned shades of cerulean, gold, and violet by those colorful facets. Suddenly contemplative, she turns again and draws near, nearer, right up close to one of them. She stares intently at her brown-eyed subject for a moment, then shutters her own gaze in three layers of 'lids, the better to reflect on the momentous instant within.

Naemyr boggles, agreeably nodding to Cynara. "Heck, was that all stuffed into the green shell? I have /no/ idea how that happened! And, uhm, I don't mean to be rude but.. all that.. nasty stuff?"

Ailisha laughs softly, "Nolee was right about one thing," she starts to say. What that thing was, exactly, is now like a buried treasure - long forgotten, put away where it isn't likely to be discovered anytime soon. Ailisha, quite simply, has temporarily forgotten how to breathe. Perhaps Naemyr was right earlier about her needing to go to the infirmary. That, however, isn't going to happen. Staring face to face with the spirited young green, Ailisha just manages to choke out, "You and me both, Vieveth!"

Contained Tempest Egg goes on to the next tactic when it starts to shudder, presumably from a pounding coming from the inside. This, too, is at first wholly rhythmic, the work of something trying its patient darndest to get out. Patience wears thin after a time, though, and soon the shudders become frenzied and once again psychedelic colors blur in a way that's almost nauseating. Then even the shudders tire and cease, as well.

I'sai returns, wiping his hands off on his thighs, only to spot yet another Impression - "Almost done, Jillah! Take care of her?"

Cynara smiles. "Congratulations, Ailisha, and Nae, it was just egg goo, it looked weird 'cause the hatchling broke the /underside/ of the egg and it came out in the shadow," she says, grinning a bit. "He's gorgeous, Nae, maybe he's for you?"

Jillah shoves off from her leaning, brooding spot on the wall and stomps through the sand, careful not to let it get into her new/old boots. "Hey, Ailisha. I told you Qen didn't make many mistakes. C'mon, you and your...energetic girl there, let's get you fed." She turns and heads off towards the corner, looking over her shoulder now and then.

Defiant Dust-Shrouded Bronze wastes little time in getting to his feet, shaky though they might be. His wings snap out, tossing another wet spray in either direction, and he stamps a foot into the remaining egg shards with bitter relish. Then he's off, charging towards one group of candidates, pausing and then barreling unsteadily toward another.

Makare waves. "COngrats Ailisha." now back to things that are winding down "How many are left? I cna't tell."

Naemyr ohohs, eyes sparkling as Ailisha finds her mate. "Oooo, yeah! Vierveth? Nice name! Think I can have a ride sometime?" He steps back, giving the new pair room.

Griere shifts on the sands, slinking closer to V'lano as the eggs continues to crack and pop and young dragons head off with their lifemates. But she, like Makare, is counting trying to count the remaining eggs, using V'lano to steady her as she gets up on her toes.

Falyn grins as a couple more candidates impress, watching them head off the sands before he looks at the twindling number of eggs. And dragonets.

Ailisha grins at Jillah, "Well, you'll have to give him my thanks for helping us find each other." She's practically giddy, giggling softly as she places her hand along her sleek and sharp lifemate's neck as the pair gait off toward the corner with the brownrider.

Ailisha walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Ailisha has left.

The Contained Tempest Egg gives one final shudder, and then the tempest is unleashed. One after another, shards of acid yellow, stormy violet, and turquoise fall to the black sands beneath the onslaught of the dragonet within. As the final shard falls, the hatchling gives itself one final shake, dispelling remnants of egg goop.

All skin and bones, huge slanted eyes and raspy wings, the young teal-blue dragon hasn't yet filled out to his future sleek physique. Those wings, set at a particularly effective angle, promise aggressive acceleration and torque to spare - when they're not busy tangling around dark talons, at least. A broad neck provides a stable base for his future rider, while narrow but strong haunches will learn to propel him powerfully, his hindlegs shorter than some but with more leverage thereby. As for his hide, for all its luxurious sheen, it boasts no grandiose changes of hue or value but instead a subtler sophistication: faint striping that parallels his ribs all the way to rangy flanks, artful highlights along aerodynamically curved neckridges, and an odd little squiggle right down his long and inquisitive muzzle.

Vieveth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Vieveth has left.

V'lano is more than willing to be a steadying influence, especially since he has Volath to lean against and steady him in turn. "It hatched," he notes, quietly. "A bronze." And he sounds half-offended that the strange green egg dared to hatch such a dragon, too.

The Moonlit Darkness Egg shudders, toppling over and over itself before it comes to rest in a cradle of dark sand. The motion spurs the life within to action, and the first signs come near the egg's equator, the tiny pinpricks of light there bursting suddenly through the shards, casting albumen triumphantly onto any nearby siblings. A bulky green is left behind, blinking in surprise. Cawing softly, the hatchling seeks the safety of her mother, then turns her wondering gaze on the world. The ranks of candidates are perused thoughtfully, the green warbling a test note, then a terrified girl from Boll is on her knees, weeping with joy and announcing, "Sinateth! You have a beautiful voice!"

Cynara counts. "Not many. Any bets I'll be packing to go back to Igen, soon?" Then she notices the blue, her head tilts to the side, and she smiles. "Now that is...an absolutely...gorgeous little blue. I want a shirt that color!" She giggles a bit, with a relief of tension that it is almost over. Almost. There's still hope.

Makare looks over at CYnara "No you won't but I'll be heading back to Seacraft I bet." the new blue is ohhh at with a smile "Handsome like the bronze."

Naemyr takes a step backward, leaning around Cynara to watch that barreling hatchling. "Uhm, I'd be careful if I were you? I think it must be something in that rotted looking egg goop, ya know? Of, well, all of 'em!"

Sleek and Sophisticated Teal Blue sits stock still for a moment, chest heaving after all the effort it took to break free from his shell. Then he becomes a blur of motion, tail and wings and legs all working at once to propel him across the Sands and toward the ever-dwindling mass of candidates. Coordinated his charge is not, but it'll get him where he needs to be, and fast.

Griere frowns in doubt, giving V'lano a dubious look. "You're kidding. A bronze? From that nasty egg?" Aerianth snorts, looking quite pleased with herself.

Defiant Dust-Shrouded Bronze is looking for something and he won't give up until he finds it! Now if only his feet would cooperate. He tries to bring himself to a halt before bowling right over the candidates before him, but all these new limbs trip him up. If only he'd taken time to get used to them. Too late now. He lets out a rough bellow as he barely manages to stay upright and his frustration lashes out at the nearest target: Naemyr. Sharp talons rake across the young man's chest, gouging easily past the robe and drawing blood from the flesh beneath.

I'sai sics H'rel on the Boll girl, then circles slowly behind the candidates to see how those others are doing, with just a touch of a limp by now.

Cynara tenses...and then Naemyr is hurt. "Oh /shards/." She moves to the side, not sure where the bronze is going to go next. "/Healer/!" And she has to watch the blue, too, and she just steps back, she can't help Myr without getting torn up herself, although she quite clearly wants to as blood falls to the sands. "I thought he was coming /to/ you." Just...shards.

"Well, there's the egg - " Or what remains of it, at which V'lano points. "And a bronze - " the sire's rider points again for that part of the equation, just in time for his focus to really catch on the hatchling doing his worst to Naemyr. "Oh no," the Telgari breathes. "That's - that's much worse."

Naemyr's reaction is slayed, where to look first, second, tenth? Instead, his face distorts in pain, world, including the bronze, fuzzing out at him before he falls to one knee. Hand clutches his chest as the white robe turns crimson, chin dropping in disbelief.

The Whirlwind Egg shivers, the fluttering specks decorating its exterior hovering in flight for a long moment. With an earsplitting crack! the shell splits into quadrants as though drawn through crosshairs. The subsequent caterwauling of a Daybreak's Fury Blue hatchling echoes through the dimness of the cavern as he tumbles over his outstretched wings, his first futile efforts at flight. Righting himself, he struts, hissing steps carrying him without fail toward the object of his affection: a short, buck-toothed vintner's daughter. Dalba cries out, "I -can- see, and I understand. Oh Colpleth, all the places we'll fly--just not yet!"

Falyn stiffens, taking a step back as Naemyr is raked across the chest. "Shells," emerges from him, eyes wide and gaze on the bronze wary and disbelieving, before he gives a quick look around, in search of other dragons out to deal damage.

The Defiant Dust-Shrouded Bronze Hatchling pauses before the victim of his unfortunate accident. Yes, accident - now that it's done. The frustration has left him and something else has taken its pace. His whirling eyes go slow with sudden importance as he regards the wounded young man. His talons twitch excitedly, still sporting traces of fresh blood.

I'sai's eyes narrow as he turns - past the caterwauling, too, although that one won't keep up the noise if he knows what's good for him - to assess Naemyr, yes, but more what the hatchling does next. And as the dragon's attitude changes he steps forward, hand going to his belt where a mark-pouch should be.

Jillah puts her palm out towards I'sai, but says nothing, just watching.

Ellery has been hovering in the background, smiling and tearing in time with the Impressions. Her constant vigilance had slipped somewhat, but with the calls for a Healer she snaps back into it. Like I'sai, she's watching attentively rather than stepping in to try anything. Unlike the Weyrlingmaster and his assistant, she has no thoughts on marks.

The Sleek and Sophisticated Teal Blue forges blindly ahead, paying no heed to the rows of white-garbed candidates on either side. Then, something abruptly makes him stop, sit back on his haunches, and twirl right around. He's gazing straight into a small, delicate-featured face with its riot of black curls, as though she were the most magical thing in all Pern.

Makare watches bronze and blue "Looks like it's all over now." no tears this time, nope Makare is smiling rather widely.

I'sai, rather than pay her, reaches over to slap that palm. "Got 'im, I think. And he'll make it - dragon'd be too distressed otherwise, after all." And therefore betworthy, along with that speedy-looking blue who catches a second glance.

Naemyr's kneeling, bent position places him at just the right height to see the bronze, albeit foglike at first then slowly clearing as pain-wrenched face is exchanged for amazement. His hand reaches out, shaking uncontrolably, til it's twined around that amazing neck. "Soldreth. Soldreth! Such a strong name! Uhm, yeah, food. Somewhere."

Cynara is, one minute, concerned about Naemyr, the next? She's opening her mouth to congratulate him, despite the irony, but the next...the next the blue she was only half-watching is at her feet, and then the Sands don't exist, the other Candidates don't exist, the only thing that exists is blue-whirling eyes, the only thing /real/ is teal-blue hide. And then she's on one knee, reaching out to him. "Marsath?" And is she crying? Tears...of overwhelmed joy. This is /right/. Not gold, not the green she once wanted...no, she was meant for /blue/.

I'sai moves to intercept Naemyr - "Over to the side. Let's get you out of the way, blood-smell and all. Tell him the healer's not going to hurt you, 'least, more than he got you already." - "Jillah? Get Cynara, remember her dragon's name, and tell B'ryce to stop getting distracted."

Makare has left.

The Subtle Skirmish Egg seems to realize it's almost over. Loathe to miss its chance, delicate peck-pecks and scrabble-scrabbles suggest the persistent, headstrong nature of its occupant. Then the hull is breached, and a delicate, fine-boned head emerges. She chirrup-croons her greeting to the world, then unfurls her dawn-tinged ocean-green wings, their unstoppable force bursting the remains of her prison. She traipses out to the candidates and breathes a throaty croon to a haughty, copper-haired holder's son from Nerat. D'larin stares in mute shock, then reaches out a trembling hand to return the gesture with a gentle palm for the green's jawline. "All right, Moliveth," he says, very quietly indeed, eyes shifting to the corners of their sockets as if fearful someone might catch him deigning to touch the dragon's cheek. "Let's go - have a bite to eat," the lad assures, and with that the last pair is led from the sands.

Jillah snorts, looking at her empty palm, "Never bet with a Telgari who moves around," she observes to the world at large. Then she moves over towards Cynara and her oh-so-right blue. "Cyn? You two wanna come with me?" She points in the direction the rest of the weyrlings and lifemates have gone.

Cynara finally stands, the look on her face unreadable with emotion. "Come on, beautiful. Let's get you some food..." Her own stomach is rumbling in sympathy with the beautiful blue. "And yes, I do love your color, it's perfect."

Cynara walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Cynara has left.

B'rakis walks down from the galleries.
B'rakis has arrived.

Marsath walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Marsath has left.

M'yr raises up to standing, hand clutched to his chest. "C'mon, Soldreth, let's go get food."

M'yr walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
M'yr has left.

Soldreth walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Soldreth has left.

B'rakis walks down from the stands and steps forward, his face unusually serious as he addresses the remaining candidates. "By far, this is the most unpleasant part of being a Weyrleader. All of you were Searched for a reason. I know that most of you are incredibly disappointed. Probably some of you may even be relieved. Just remember that even though your dragon wasn't out there today, each of you has something special and promising in you, that's what lead to your being Searched in the first place. Your lifemate may still be out there, waiting to be clutched. I hope you all know that you are welcome to stay here at Ista, or if you'd rather, you can be returned to your Holds or Halls starting tomorrow morning. Anyway, please, join feel welcome to join us in the living cavern for the hatching celebration."

"Never bet with -that- Telgari who moves around," V'lano corrects, though Jillah's got things to do with Cynara and her new Marsath that stop his gambit from being in any way conversational. He falls silent, then, as Moliveth and the other two last-Impressed leave the sands, and the Istan Weyrleader takes his place there instead. A weary smile shapes the Telgari's lips, and he slumps a little deeper into Volath's side, his arm a welcome curl to let Griere slump too should she wish a moment's respite before everything that comes next.

Griere lets out the first complete exhale she's been capable of all evening. Slump? Oh yes. She folds readily against V'lano, not saying anything but just sighing. Aerianth moves closer to the pair, and Volath as well, eyes swirling.

Falyn doesn't seem to know exactly how he should be feeling right now, though he gives the Weyrleader a brief nod. "Thank you," he says quietly, and turns to shuffle off the sands.

I'sai takes a last look around, mutters briefly at H'rel - who moves over to the edge, to the caverns workers who're waiting to deal with the shards and everything - and tips a wave up to the galleries before heading, without a limp this time, to oversee his crew.

I'sai walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
I'sai has left.

Jillah walks down to the far end of the Cavern.
Jillah has left.

Falyn heads out towards the entrance.
Falyn has left.

B'rakis heads out towards the entrance.
B'rakis has left.

Announcement: Cleona announces "Congratuatons to Ista for their most successful hatching, and thank you to everyone who attended, or took part to make it a memorable event."