Ista Weyr Log: Nalaieth and Jekzith's Clutching - July 2007

Nalaieth and Jekzith's Clutching - July 18, 2007
Logfile from Griere, with a little help from C'len and Izarit.

You climb some stairs into the galleries.

Hatching Galleries -- Ista Weyr(#1300RJQqs)
The galleries provide more than adequate seating for guests who have been invited to watch a hatching. There are ten tiers, that arch in a semi-circle from the southwest to west side of the black stone cavern. Stairs lead down to the entrances, which are visible beyond the large gaping opening leading to the Senior Queen's Weyr. You have a view of the Hatching Sands as well as a clear view of the ledges up above you.
The people here are Trace, Hillel, Caitlyn, Tegara, Izarit, Nolee, and Kamia.
Slippery Summer! Please read. :), and Caroling are lying around loose.

Stairs to the southwest lead out of the hatching grounds. Please type '+viewhelp' to see information on checking out the clutch.

Obvious exits: Main Entrance Sands

Slippery Summer! Please read. :)
The constant rain seems to have let up for the occasion, though there remains evidence of its presence in the form of small pools and puddles where the stone is sunken, and in patches of unfortunate colonies of a slick, algae-like substance here and there. Umbrella stands and woven rush mats rest in cavern entryways and along stairs, covered in sand to provide traction. The viewing galleries are hot under the beating midday sun, drying out the puddles one by one but not yet chasing away the awful influx of biting tropical insects, making the raised pots of repellent salve at the entryway a luxury.

Kamia makes her way up the stairs akwardly, her balance a bit off, hanging onto the railing.

Derik climbs up some stairs into the seats.
Derik has arrived.

Trace moves along with Caitlyn as well, frowning slightly as they move towards the hatching grounds and stands. "What's goin' on?" He asks after a moment. Why are so many people going there...? Really, it's a lot of people. Then it registers and he stops in his tracks, looking sideways at the blue rider, not saying a word. His body language says it all. Yeah, he's ready to get out.

Small but irritating tropical insects buzz about, landing on the unwary and taking an annoying taste.

By the time Nolee arrives, Nalaieth is already on the sands, making slow but unproductive circles. "She's been doing this all morning," Nolee explains, helping to take caps off a few of the raised pots of insect-repelling salve and daubing some of it on her arms. "Please, watch out for slippery spots, it's been awful." P'draig's all gentleman, even escorting the weyrwoman down to the edge of the sands, excitement on both their faces.

Derik pelts up the stairs a little while after everyone else has come up. He's changed clothing to a dark red tunic tucked into his white shorts. As per usual his feet are bare. Falk gleams from where he is perched on the lad's shoulder as Derik heads straight for the front rows, getting as close as he can to peek over to see the sands.

Nolee walks down the seat tiers towards the dark sands.
Nolee has left.

From the sands, Nolee walks down from the galleries.

Caroling goes home.
Caroling has left.

Chantha climbs up some stairs into the seats.
Chantha has arrived.

For all the rain's let up, Izarit stubbornly still wears her raincoat, its hood covering her red and curling hair as she trails with a group of her trader family up the steps. Izarit and the handful of siblings and cousins and assorted other relations of hers chatter noisily among themselves and shoot looks out at the sands once they realize just where the crowd's leading them, at which point the excitement in their voices picks up further and most of them, Izarit included, top to point and goggle. Nevermind there's no eggs just yet, doesn't look like.

C'len grabs one of the woven mats on his way in, and stops, too, to spread some of the repellant on his face. He starts to put some on his arms as well but, thinking better of it, just shrugs into his jacket: too warm by far, but good protection from the bites. The mat is spread on a seat and he asks of Kamia, "Would you like to sit with me? I can grab another mat. Might keep all that... green stuff off us."

Kamia nods a bit to C'len. "Please... thank you" She says politely to him as she makes her way perhaps to carefully.

Chantha comes in making faces; the biters that swarm in the damp have apparently declared her a buffet. She's slathering salve on her arms. "I heard that something was going on with eggs--" she starts, seeing a few familiar faces. And then Nalaieth proves her correct. "Oh--oh! So *that's* what they look like." She squints a bit. "Thought they'd be prettier. More colorful, at least."

C'nroy has arrived.

Lujayn has arrived.

Hillel leans against one of the many supporting posts of the gallery watching the proceeding. "Fascinating." He hms, blinking as he looks down as the dragon suddenly lays an egg. "Curious." He murmurs. "Curious."

After getting situated, the visitor from 'Reaches offers Naurimeth's rider a hand so that she can more easily be seated. "It's so slippery, be careful," C'len says, and then his eye's caught by the bony-looking egg before turning back to help Kamia.

From the sands, There's some shuffling about, this time markedly different because the queen hesitates, hunkers down, and quivers before moving onward, turning immediately to inspect the first bright and cheery egg of hers and Jekzith's to arrive on the black Istan sands.

Kamia eyes the egg as she takes the hand. "Thank you C'len.. the baby makes mybalance weird without the water. That is one... interesting looking egg."

From the sands,

Nolee pages to C'len, Caitlyn, Derik, Hillel, Izarit, Kamia, Tegara, and Trace: Yay! Not kidding that time.

Tegara has trotted up into the galleries, claiming a seat at the end of the aisle and wrapping something that is equal parts scarf and shawl over her head and shoulders to keep the bugs at bay. She waves to several people, most notably Caityln and then settles in to watch.

Caitlyn removes Trace's arm from hers, then drapes her own limb companionably over his shoulders - having to reach up to do so. She notices, yes - and so sits them both higher up, away from the main throng of people joining the Galleries. "Just work with being around the dragons, for now," she murmurs evenly to him.

"Egg!" squeals Izarit, like a five-year-old as she points. And then blinks, hiding a snickering sort of snort behind her hand. "Kind of... wopsided, isn't it," she remarks in an aside to a cousin, as she absently swats at a bug hovering around their faces. "And there's Paddy, isn't he cute?" Izzy accompanies those words with a conspiratorial grin to her companion and an enthusiastic wave at the man on the sands. Not much attention is spared there, though, as the trade of names continues: "Nolee, met her. That's--oh, I forget the name but I know him. Oh, you're right. And--ooh, I'll be back." Izarit's spotted Hillel, and she steps back to fold her hands behind her back as she walks to hover at his shoulder. "Curiouser and curiouser," she agrees, tone teasing.

Caitlyn barely notices Tegara's wave, quickly flashing the greenrider a warm smile and wave back, then concentrating mostly on Trace. The newely arriving eggs get glances, but not much more.

Easier said then done, when it's not dragons that he's known for a time...one of the few. Trace gulps, but then nods slightly and shifts the hard tube on his back nervously, slowly following Caitlyn up the stairs to wherever she leads. He looks back at the eggs and dragon only once, then turns his attention away.

Chantha prefers to stand, the better to avoid the smears of green algae that dot the damp cavern. Besides, it helps her see over all these darned tall people. "The eggs really stand out on black sand," she comments softly, for no one's benefit save her own. She smiles and waves to Izarit, but lets her go deal with Hillel, since Chantha's not brave enough. She does shoot the visibly-nervous Trace a concerned, friendly look.

From the sands, Nolee wrinkles her nose, considering the egg. "Not a bad start..." she muses. "Hopefully a big strong dragon will come out of that one. That'd be an asp--aups-a sign of good things."

From the sands, A notable pause occurs as Nalaieth raises her head and sniffs at the air, displeased. Malcontent, she moves to the very center of the sands. Her tail thrashes, brushing the sand flat. A gentle ripple courses down her sides, and a second egg is left behind.

From the sands,

Lujayn peers out over the black Istan sands, barely looking at her means of transportation as she vies for a glimpse at the first of the eggs. Said transportation, by name of C'nroy, gets a fleeting grimace as she swats at a buzzing insect. "At least they're not hard to see."

T'mic climbs up some stairs into the seats.
T'mic has arrived.

C'nroy turns to Lujayn, who caught a ride with him from Fort and comments. "Beautiful eggs. They do stand out well." a chuckle.

"Hello Izarit." Hillel says, turning his head backwards to look at the woman for the moment before he turns back to the sands and watches the hatching progress. "This is the first time I've seen a dragon clutch. I do not visit Southern Weyr all that often." He tells the hairdresser before looking behind the hairdresser towards the gathering crowd. Many may think he's just being nosey or fopish, but focus on his eyes see that he is taking each person in for a few moments before moving along to the next.

The constant rain seems to have let up for the occasion, though there remains evidence of its presence in the form of small pools and puddles where the stone is sunken, and in patches of unfortunate colonies of a slick, algae-like substance here and there. Umbrella stands and woven rush mats rest in cavern entryways and along stairs, covered in sand to provide traction. The viewing galleries are hot under the beating midday sun, drying out the puddles one by one but not yet chasing away the awful influx of biting tropical insects, making the raised pots of repellent salve at the entryway a luxury.

From the sands, Nolee looks to P'draig, whose arm she's still holding. "Jays, thanks," she manages, squeezing his arm once and disentangling hers from his. "We even got some sunshine for the clutching. Hard to believe when it's been so wet--" she breaks off to laugh at the eager father Jekzith, who is already attending to the first few eggs, watching them closely.

From the sands, Nalaieth paces about the sands, ill at rest until the sun's dried some of the dampness away. At last she digs a wallow, then seemingly ignores it and digs another in a zigzag. One beat of her wings blurs and hides the motion of her body and when she settles, two more eggs have joined their brethren on the sands, one smudged and one intensely bright.

From the sands,

From the sands,

C'len seems more interested in the activities on the sand than in the galleries, though he does nod to a few others arriving that he recognizes. His legs stretch out in front a bit, crossing at the ankle. He fans himself with his hand, rather ineffectively, but doesn't seem inclined to remove his jacket given the buzzing of the insects.

T'mic hurries in, one hand trailing along the wall for safety, pausing at the entry to scoop out a blob of the insect repellent. He slaps the goo on bare skin as he climbs the steps, then eases into the row of seats that contains Caitlyn. "Sorry," he mumbles as he ducks in front of people's vision. "'Scuse."

Caitlyn nods up at Trace, reaching over to pat his arm with her free hand - the woman smiling thinly. "What're you thinking now?" she murmurs softly to Trace, her words unheard by others in the din.

Catching the wave, Izarit offers an easy one back to Chantha. "Hello, Hillel. Funny, I'd figure you being a dignitary and all, they'd want you to come to all /sorts/ of things. Myself, now--makes sense that I've never seen one. We missed them all the time at Igen, no one ever wants to invite a trader." She pouts. Then, glancing out over the eggs again, rather than to her companion, she notes casually, "I heard you made a mat."

Kamia smiles over at C'len and down at the eggs. "Lots of shimmery onces down there already only one shimmering one in Nari's clutch and it was a queen."

Griere picks carefully along the wet and sand stone, her expression plaintly and completely displeased. She side-steps around a puddle only to have the rush mat skid a little beneath her, leaving her to stumble a little and sour the hard line of her mouth even more.

Chantha dodges out of T'mic's way without taking her eyes off the growing clutch of eggs. "Oh, *shiny*," she breathes, staring down at the newest one. Who cares that it's pear-shaped, it's so pretty! "I take back what I said before, the eggs are beautiful. Definitely better than fowl eggs." She sees Griere stumble, and instinctively moves closer. "Need a hand up, ma'am?"

"Ah see that one." Hillel points to the Brilliant Jewel Egg. "That's an egg. That's a beautiful one. It's stunning. That's how to make an entrance." He turns back to Izarit and grins. "I helped the Weyrwoman." He tells the woman, grinning at her. "How did you find out?"

Kayara has arrived.

Trace finally turns his attention down to the eggs and the dragon, watching the clutching quietly for the first few moments...until Caitlyn asks her question. "I'm thinking...why am I here." He says, offering a faint smile at the attempted joke as he glances sideways at Caitlyn. "I'm thinking that it's wierd to be here, watching this...and trying to keep back feelings I had fer so long." His words are quiet as well, likely only for Caitlyn.

Trace has disconnected.

"They're all eggs," says Izarit, a hint of scathing in her tone as she waves a hand at the burgeoning clutch. "Anyway, I talked to the Weyrwoman. Arrived just in time for us to stare at your butt--and what a /lovely/ butt it is, too--as you wandered off."

Trace has connected.

Caitlyn lets her arm slides slowly from Trace, but keeps her presence near the youth - her lips smirking only a little at his humor. "Yeah, I bet it'd be weird. What feelings?"

From the sands, Nolee actually applauds when the bright egg arrives, though she blinks some at its ...reflectiveness. "Ooh, Patchrag, look at that one! It's something, isn't it? It looks awfully nice next to the flowery one." The goldrider actually tugs on P'draig's sleeve, making certain he's seeing, though he seems stunned enough that he can just manage polite pleasantries and a good degree of awe. "Different when they're his, isn't it?" Nodnod.

Aion climbs up some stairs into the seats.
Aion has arrived.

Aion walks down the stairs towards the entrance.
Aion has left.

From the sands, Nalaieth ducks her head, pushing at the sand with her paws and her nose, nudging it just so. Once a small hollow of sparkling black sand is deemed satisfactory, she's content to leave an egg behind, but not before fanning it with her wings. Is she aiming to dry it, or see if the speckles will blow right off of the shell?

Aion climbs up some stairs into the seats.
Aion has arrived.

From the sands,

Lujayn looks towards the sands, not as successful as she may appear at blocking out the words of strangers. All the while an idle smile grows on her face, examining the smudged egg with a squint. "I like that one," She swings her legs and speaks to the air, kicking up a bit of slippery puddle scum. "Looks properly weathered an' all."

Trace tilts his head slightly at the question. But it's Caitlyn...so he does answer, "Dislike...anger...about my parents and what happened to them, even though it wasn't really their dragons fault. I can't help but feel that way when I see ones I don't know still, no matter how hard I try." Feelings he'd had for so long before he realized the error behind them. As another egg appears he sighs and ducks his head slightly. Everyone else is so happy...

Derik's gaze hasn't left the sands since the first egg was lain out on the sand. With each one that makes it's arrival his excitment level rises a notch. finally he shifts restlessly in his seat, hopping from bench to bench restlessly. Once he glances up to search the faces for someone. Spying Trace and Caitlyn he watches a moment but decides against invading their small area where they sit talking. Instead he looks back to the sands and waits, watching the queen as she hovers over the eggs already there.

"As you can see, even the clutch father and mother comment on it." Hillel turns to look at the hairdresser and gives her a winning smile before he turns back to watch the eggs. "I wonder why she places them like she does." He says aloud. "There must be a reason behind it."

From the sands, Turning around and around, faster and faster like a laundress wringing the water out of a pile of clean clothes, Nalaieth finally settles down and two just-out-of-the-laundry looking white eggs flop onto the sands. One looks like an old crinkly shirt, the other a forgotten wad of handkerchiefs from someone's pocket.

Caitlyn nods thoughtfully over at Trace, then smiling out at the new arrivals on the dark Sands far below. Her words are murmured, low, only for the youth at her side. "What makes the ones you don't know different from those you *do*...besides the obvious?" Her tones are light, but curious.

Griere holds up a hand but not to take Chantha up on her offer, only to refuse it. "Thank you, no," she pauses there, though, realizing that she doesn't recognize the person to whom she's speaking and allowing her a quick moment to supply her name. "Do you have the count though?"

From the sands,

C'nroy finds a bit of railing and crosses his arms on the top of the rail He rests his chin on his forearms and continues to watch quietly.

From the sands,

Kamia just seems excited, watching the sands intently, and eating cookies.

T'mic plops down into a seat just a couple down from Caitlyn and Trace. He gives the pair a curious look as well as a nod and quick grin, but his attention goes quickly to the sands, and the eggs there.

Caitlyn smiles at T'mic a few rows down, waving to the young man with her fingers.

Lujayn has disconnected.

"Ask her," says Izarit, with a shrug, glancing sideways at Hillel again. "Couldn't tell you myself, you know, not being a dragon and all. I thought this would be more exciting. It's not really, though, is it. Miska /tried/ to tell me, but... They look like really big chicken eggs. I was expecting something more... more."

Lujayn has connected.

"Eight, ma'am." Chantha answers Griere almost before the Weyrwoman finishes her questions. "Some of them look a bit odd, but if Nalaieth's not fretting about them, I guess they're fine." Through her excitement, she finally focuses on Griere's shoulderknot and almost trips over her feet in an effort to curtsey. "Clear skies, ma'am. I'm a new resident, name's Chantha, and I'm very pleased to be allowed to stay here at the Weyr..." The babble switch has been tripped.

From the sands, Nolee's had enough of where she's standing, and she takes a few steps back from P'draig to put her feet back on the stone, where it's cooler. She rubs at her nose, sniffs, then rubs at her nose again, unconsciously, even as she tugs at her blouse to make certain everything's in its proper place. "Keep it up, Nala," she cheers, sneaking up the step to lather more salve on her arms.

"I think that she's a little busy right now, don't you?" Hillel says to Izarit and grins at her before he looks back over his shoulder to Griere's form. "Ah, want to introduce me to the Weyrwoman then?" He asks of the woman next to him. "I've not met her yet."

Kamia swats away some bugs, and offers her compainion some cookies too. "She's going strong.. clutch might get as large as when yours flew her... maybe"

Griere presses up to her toes at the count, peering over heads to get a look at the eggs and, perhaps more specifically, to see these odd ones that seem to be of some minor concern to Chantha. "They look..." But she doesn't finish and instead sets back to her heels to watch the girl as she rattles on. It's a patient, but not particularly interested look. "Yes, well, welcome, Chantha. You're enjoying the clutching?" With that she starts to carefully manuever herself out of the aisle, away from the menacing puddle and mat and toward a spot nearby where she might see better. Having found a better position without further trouble, she then notes Hillel's appearance with a lift of her brows.

"Kintryth all right?" Mic calls over to Caitlyn during a break. "And it's, uh... Traki, right?" he adds to Trace with a pleasant (if vague) nod at the boy. "Shells, these bugs!"

"Dunno that one," says Izarit, with a glance to Griere and a frown overtaking her mouth. "You're the lordling, you ought to be introducing yourself. I'm sure I'm not qualified--never been to one of those big fancy state dinners, you know. But you can introduce me to her, if you like. I could be your date." Big charming smile.

From the sands, Nalaieth shuffles closer to the gallery wall, sniffing at it. She puffs out a powerful exhalation of air, clearing her nose of mold spores and other allergenic particles. The force of the effort startles her, and when she waddles along, an egg remains, its little hollows already collecting greenish, grasslike dust as it settles.

From the sands,

Caitlyn nods to T'mic, her lips turning up in a little smile. "Yes, he's doing grand! How's beautiful baby Aath?" A soft giggle, and she points at her skin, slightly gleaming with the cream upon it. "You shoulda' used the cream in the big pot down there, 'Mic. Keeps the bugs away."

From the sands, Shielding his eyes a little, P'draig casts Nolee a sheepish grin. "Shiny," he remarks and squints towards where Jekzith is walking back and forth, back and forth, checking each egg and then coming back around to Nalaieth's side to check in with the queen herself. One can practically hear him fussing.

"It's different because...I know them, and I know that they aren't evil and wouldn't harm their riders. But these, and those I don't know...who's to say they wouldn't?" Trace asks, turning his gaze up to Caitlyn for a moment. "Who's to say my parents dragons weren't that way either. All I know is that everyone said they were good, but..."

C'len accepts the cookie, taking a small bite out of the side. "Nala and Vil's clutch wasn't that big, since it was an interval," C'len says. And then he shrugs, "Of course, I guess technically it still is, huh?" The rider idly turns the rest of the cookie around in his hand, attention focused on the clutch. "I hope this one'll be bigger."

Tegara has been slowly slipping down her seat, watching the action, such as it is, with a cursory glance. But it looks like the heat and humidity and the bugs are taking their toll on this mountain-bred woman, and her eyes are slowly slipping closed.

Chantha has been acknowledged by the Weyrwoman, and thus is a happy little camper. "I am, ma'am. Never saw anything like it before." As Griere sidles on past, she catches a few syllables from Izarit and Hillel's conversation and beckons them over with a smile. By all means introduce themselves, she's friendly enough. No one's head's been bitten off yet.

"Then come with me, I'll introduce you." Hillel for his part pushes away from the edge of the Gallery and moves towards Griere. "Weyrwoman. Southern Hold's favorite son bids you and your Weyr a good day." He bows, coming up with a warm broad smile. "My name is Hillel Keron and I'm a Lordling of Southern Hold. My father, Herger sends his greetings and his son to vacation here and meet the lovely people and environs of your Weyr."

C'nroy turns his head to look at Lujayn. "I feel sorry for P'draig. First he had to deal with all of us. Now..." he looks back at the sands. "He'll have another bunch to deal with, and Jekzith's constant worry." his look goes back to the sands. "Kinda makes me proud to have been such a pain in his backside."

From the sands, Nolee makes it up the steps and is leaning on the railing, rubbing in the repellent lotion, and she giggles for P'draig's comment. "He's doing great, don't worry. Nalaieth wouldn't let him get so close if he weren't." Then, easily bored by the egg-laying process, she turns around to try to find a certain Reachian bronzerider in the audience, squinting and waving his way.

Aion walks down the stairs towards the entrance.
Aion has left.

Caitlyn 'ohs' softly to Trace, trying to appear non-judgemental. "Hmm, well, I know me telling you they're NOT bad won't help... So, I think maybe having you meet up with a new dragon or two each sevenday - getting to know them better - would help you with that." A warm smile.

T'mic's grin widens at mention of Aath. "She's fine, just fine. I expect her to rise again soon - I guess - only she hasn't made any signs yet." A shrug for the vagaries of women. "Oh," he continues blithely, "I've got some on. I was talking about generally, you know? I swear I've eaten as many bugs yesterday and today as I did in the last couple of turns."

Kamia shrugs a bit. "But it was a brown that flew her... smaller clutches, though he has been very attentive. His rider's not to bad either. If I was in a condition to follow someone arround, I'd see if I could get him to bake me some goodies." She smiles at him. "I'm glad you're here though. You're good for her. She actually remembers your name." She grins a bit, knowing he should get that.

Noemie climbs up some stairs into the seats.
Noemie has arrived.

From the sands, Fastidious tawny forepaws dig the next hollow, precariously tipping the queen forward. A shuffling gait gets her into position, though it takes long moments held and tensed for this next, illusorily odd-shaped egg to arrive.

Obligingly, Izarit moves to slip her arm into Hillel's as she tags along with him, at a somewhat slower pace: she's picking her foot placements carefully on the algaeic stone. She says nothing at first, simply offering a smile, and nod of her head to Griere, and then, not-so-subtly, an elbow to Hillel and a pointed look before she abandons that and instead broadens her smile. "Weyrwoman. Izarit Giordani," is her own much simpler greeting.

From the sands,

Caitlyn seems to fluidly shift her attention back and forth between Trace and T'mic, smiling amiably at both. "Oh jays...so soon again?" the bluerider mutters to the greenrider at word of Aath's potential to rise - the woman them grinning down at Mic.

Trace smirks slightly, "Who's ta say that any dragons would want ta meet me...or that I would want to meet them." He says, then stands, "I'm going to go out for a little bit." He says, thrn turns without another word to head down the stairs, brushing past others on his way by without a word.

Caitlyn blinks, looks about to say something...then shakes her head silently, watching Trace leave.

Lujayn pushes a strand of wilting hair behind one ear, clearly tired of the humidity. "I didn't think he was going to be weyrling master for Ista." She frowns for just a moment, but returns to sliding her feet in algae at the sign of another egg. "Lots of shiny ones this time, but what's with the white?"

Trace has disconnected.

Derik chats excitedly to the boy seated next to them, the pair of them as eager as anything to see more eggs emerge. They both point and talk about specific eggs, passing time between them until Nala lays another one. As she does, Derik oohs softly and points. It's obvious he's found his favorite egg to date. "I bet that one has a tiny little green in it." he confides to the lad he's beside. "They are all so...whiteish."

Caitlyn slides down a few seats, managing to work her way next to T'mic after Trace leaves - the woman sighing, then focusing her attention on all the eggs below.

C'nroy grins at his travel partner. "Worse. He's gonna feel in a way they're his own children. Seems to be something that they go through." Again his chin goes down to his forearms and the brownrider watches.

Chantha lets Hillel and Izarit make nice with Griere (a real live Southern lordling!) in order to keep watching, and to try and find a spot without wee flying biters to annoy her. She ends up near Lujayn, and grins as she overhears the Fortian. "Maybe it's so she can find the eggs at night or something."

Derik has disconnected.

T'mic follows Trace with his eyes, looking bemused, then hastily brushes off the wet before the bluerider seats herself. "Rude kid," he offers, nodding then toward the eggs. "Nice looking clutch, though. Have the bets started yet?"

Derik has connected.

"Yes, it is a unique sight," the Weyrwoman agrees with Chantha. And as it looks like Griere's chances to watch the eggs are about to grow slimmer, she steals another look towards the sands before Hillel and Izarit approach. "Ista's duties to your Hold," she tells the lordling, her smile polite but thin. "How lucky we are that you find yourself unneeded at the Hold for such a visit to our Weyr. Welcome. Will you be with us long?"" She catches C'nroy's sympathy for the clutchsire's situation and shoots him a quick, sharp look, then it's back to wearing her well-practiced smile for those that surround her. "Izarit, welcome," she says with a nod.

A hint of a blush touches C'len's face at Kamia's words, but it's followed by a grin. "The bigger it is, the better it'll be for the weyr. If all the clutches are larger..." he trails off with a shrug. Then he gestures between Nala and Kamia and says, perhaps somewhat tactlessly, "I guess you probably feel a bit like she does?" And then, as if realizing the mistake, "Uh, I mean, not that you're as big as a dragon, but..." he trails off.

"Oh, thanks 'Mic," Caitlyn murmurs at her companion's sluicing away of the water, then seating herself beside him. "Hm..he can be, like any other kid. But Trace has some deep issues, so I let him get away with it, sometimes." She cranes her neck to see the eggs better, then grins over at the greenrider. "Oh, you damned well KNOW bets have been on already. Probably just getting all the more heated. I'd join in, but I have bad luck that way..."

Kamia lets out a laugh that's almost a giggle. "I've got serveral months before I feel like that. Unless it's twins.. please help me, don't let it be twins.. though I'm sure it's not"

Lujayn shrugs. "Well, they /are/ Jekzith's children. Maybe one of those things that gets carried over." She leaning over to get a better look at this algae, reaching out to put a finger in it when she hears Derik's remark. A like-minded person is far more interesting than smelly growth. "Yeah." She chimes in easily with the boy. "I've never seen a clutch like this one, with everything so similar."

From the sands, Nalaieth looks up at the stands, curves her sinuous neck away shyly, then looks up again. Into the next pair of wallows, two eggs are deposited, almost like gifts.

From the sands,

From the sands,

Hillel looks towards Izarit as she places her arm around his. "Excuse me." He gently pats her arm and slides his own out of her grip before he smiles to Griere. "Thank you, Weyrwoman. I'll be here for a while, and yes. I have two brothers, My Lady. They are well enough around." He nods his head. "I'm sure my father will be overjoyed at your hospitality." His eyes are quite narrowed before he turns back and walks along back towards his spot.

Noemie has been here the whole time, playing the social butterfly and greeting a friend here, a fellow rider there, as she tries to both make her way through the crowd and watch as the eggs appear, one by one, on the sands. And then she spots her fellow pregnant greenrider, greeting her warmly as she tries to part the crowd to reach her. "Kamia!"

From the sands, P'draig inches towards the edge of the Galleries, not having remembered to trade sandals for boots due to the heat and wet and though he doesn't walk up far, winds up in the bottom row of the stands, looking upward into the crowd that's gathered to watch. "C'nroy? Lu? That you?" he spots some familiar faces.

Derik hops up after the two newest eggs make their appearance. He scans again the crowds, this time spying Hillel. Making his way to the lordling he plops down beside him, nudging him with an elbow. "Hey...didja see those newest eggs? This is soo awesome!" he exclaims softly. "You sure are lucky to be here to see this. Gonna have plenty to tell all your friends back home about."

Kamia smiles from where she is sitting with C'len and waves back with a cookied hand, she has cookies in her lap too. Luckily, Kamia doesn't reallylook pregnany yet.

T'mic echoes, dismissive, "Issues. Whatever -that- means. Kid's never been nothing but rude to me. --Oh now, say. /That's/ a lovely one." Dark head nods toward the Surprise Inside egg. "Betcha that's a green."

C'nroy turns his head and eyes from the eggs. He raises his head up and raises an arm to wave. "Yes, Sir." he grins.

From the sands, Nolee has spotted C'len and Kamia in the stands, and she squints their way, trying to be certain before she waves brightly, hand above her head, blocking the view of some watchers, then unfortunately sneezing on them as well. Making her apologies, she backs away, then tries to cover her awkwardness by looking out, all poised-like, at the sands.

Chantha's gazes is riveted on the opal shimmer egg. "Oh, that one's...wow." Sudee never had anything like this, and likely never will. "If there was to be a gold, it'd be from that one," she whispers.

"Thanks, Weyrwoman," says Izarit, with another smile, and a somewhat thinner glance sideways at Hillel when he extricates himself from her. "Don't let us interrupt you, though," the trader remarks; she can apparently read that expression on Griere's face well enough. She takes a careful step back, mostly behind Hillel, at which point her nose wrinkles. "In fact," she notes, clearing her throat, "I see someone I haven't spoken to yet, so if you'll excuse me. Weyrwoman," and then she's off, inching over the damp moldy stone toward T'mic and Caitlyn. "Caitlyn, Mic. Haven't seen /you/ in a while," she tells the greenrider lightly.

Hillel gives a partially offended look at the nudge from the young man. "Give me a moment." He turns to look at Izarit and smiles at her. "Izarit, please come and see me later. Yow owe me a tour, remember?" He winks, looking back towards Derik and grins a little thinly at Derik. "We do have Weyrs, Derik. I just do not go to them." He offers, sliding back into his seat as he sighs. "Hmm."

Caitlyn shrugs, shaking her head at T'mic. "I give him hell over it sometimes. I think he *is* getting better, though." SHe too is happier to focus on the eggs, nodding sagely. "Nice, yes... Of course *I* like that one...being what I am, of course." Her finger juts out in the direction of the glittering jewel egg.

Griere nods to Hillel's account, but his expression and departure earn a odd look from the goldrider. She turns the look to Izarit, as if the girl might be able to give her some insight. but she too is eager to slip away. With another nod, Griere finds herself with a moment to check the eggs again. She sniffs at the close, musty air and frowns once more.

Noemie squeezes into a spot besides Kamia-- still possible for her to do, since she isn't showing much yet, either. "Lovely eggs, aren't they?" She comments, squinting out onto the sands for a better look at the newest ones. "Oh, and good evening, bronzerider," she adds, so as not to be rude.

From the sands, The queen's next choice is an indent that hasn't thoroughly dried, and the more she digs, the more water appears in the hole. Her wings ripple, and there's a soft plop as the next egg splashes down into the damp, appearing already quite at home in the warm Istan water.

From the sands,

Falk croons softly towards the sands as if offering encouragement to the queen and the brown sire of the eggs. Derik doesn't seem to notice the offended look. "Well of /course/ you have weyrs but they aren't /this/ one." he grins at Hillel lopsidedly. "And you aren't there but yah is here, at ISta right now when they are clutching. So what do you think? This is the first clutch I've ever seen happen so I think it's pretty neat." he says with enthusiasm. He's an hyper young man. He grasps Hillel's arm with one hand and points with the other. "Lookit!? Didja see that?!"

Kamia smiles and scoots a bit, to make more room on her to sit with her on her mat, curling up on the older rider's shoulder. She chuckles a bit an waves back to Nolee. "She reminds me of my kid sister... I don't care that she's older then me."

Lujayn's friendly expression hardly falters, turning away from Derik with a flip of tawny hair. The snubbed eagerness becomes a happy shout. "Hey, Paddy!" The runner stands up so quickly that she loses her footing in the pool of algae she'd been smearing around, if only for one unbalanced moment, still beaming down at the Fortian rider. "Black sands like you said, but they can keep the bugs.."

T'mic says "'F he doesn't like dragons so much, he shouldn't be at a Weyr," only to grin at Cait for her ogling of the Opal egg. "Why'm I not... Izzy!" He bounces to his feet at the trader's approach. "It's been too long, and me without marks, too. How's your family doing?"

Derik obviously missed anything Lujayn may have said to him in his excitment over another egg appearing.

Hillel's hand reaches down and gently pries Derik's hand from his arm. His grip is extremely strong. "Careful, old hurt there." He says, turning back towards the sand. "That will be a soggy dragon, I'm sure." A laugh comes before he looks at the sands. "How many now?"

Caitlyn shrugs again, watching Nalaieth lay yet another ovoid, smiling at the golden mother. She has no problems with the *dragon*. She replies to T'mic, "So I said. But he's rarely at the Weyr-proper, these days. Dockhand. And he likes the dragons well enough after he gets to know them...he adores Kintryth, for sure." Izarit's approach makes Cait look up and wave to the Trader-cum-barber before she responds to 'Mic again, "No family."

"Oh, sorry!" comes Derik's quick apology. "Um..." he pauses a moment to peer intently at the sands, trying to count. "one...three..six..." he keeps counting quietly. "Over 10." he finally concludes. "she's blocking some of them. Oh I'm sure the rain will end sometime before the eggs hatch." he comments.

"Mmhmm, of course, my lord," agrees Izarit without looking back, a hand lifted in acknowledgement of Hillel's request. "I think," she tells T'mic then, stopping to place her hands on her hips, "that /you/ have been avoiding me. You better explain yourself, mister." But she's grinning all the same, and relaxes quickly. "We're all right, considering. Still hanging about--out of pretty shiny things to sell, so they've got me doing hair these days. I did the Weyrwoman Nolee's, doesn't it look so pretty now? /Much/ better."

O'lin climbs up some stairs into the seats.
O'lin has arrived.

Noemie puts a friendly arm around the greenrider leaning against her, using the other to add a friendly wave back to Nolee, as well. "Does she? I guess she reminds me, just a tad, of my younger sister too, now that you mention it." She notices the cookies then, glancing down at Kamia's pile. "Mind if I steal one?"

From the sands, Nolee half-listens into what she can hear of the clutchsire's fellow Fortians's comments, though Kamia's wave has her repeating her action, then sighing as she slips on a damp mat. More sand is requested as those clouds roll in overhead.

"Hrm." Hillel offers before he looks around the others. "Fifteen. Three Marks on it." The young lordling calls out, pulling three of them out and holding it up. "Any takers?"

From the sands, "Good to see you C'nroy, whoa Lu, carefully," P'draig says laughingly as the runner bobbles a little. "Black sand indeed and it looks like a good clutch too," the brownrider looks out towards the eggs and the two dragons busy around them. "Glad you could both make it."

From the sands, There's a brief nap before the next eggs arrive, Nalaieth waking suddenly and fussing across the sands, barely finishing one hollow before a pair of eggs arrive -- one very small, one very large.

From the sands,

Derik's eyes widen slightly at Hillel. At the mention of bet he starts to show excitment though it fades quickly as the amount of marks mentioned is three. So he says nothing, looking back to the eggs to watch another one arrive.

From the sands,

C'nroy nods. "Had to pull a double swap to get free, but managed it." he pauses to take in the newest arrivals on the sands, smiling. "Looks like Jekzith is doing pretty well." he observes.

"Little, ah, /small/ for a dockhand," T'mic suggests, offering one of his own arms as comparison. "Ah, Izzy, you know I'd never avoid you! But no marks means no pretty things for me, and there's no point wasting your time now, is there?" He sweeps her magnificently to a seat as he lowers himself as well. "Caitlyn, 've you met Izzy? Izzy, this is Caitlyn, Kintryth's and Wingleader."

From the sands, Jekzith noses at the dual arrivals, digging out another hollow and edging one of the two away from its partner, burying it carefully in the warm black sand so only a bit of it peeks out. He huffs a breath over it as if to say, "There." And then turns back to see how Nalaieth's faring.

Chantha would take Hillel's bet--she's counting on eighteen, herself--save that she has exactly one eighth-mark piece to her name, and she's saving it for a rainy day. Or one rainier than Ista's currently having. She just shakes her head and shifts a bit more out of the way as more people come in, inadvertently bracing herself on an arriving rider. "Beg pardon, sir."

Kamia hands over a couple of her cookies to Noemie, smiling at her, and uses her shoulder as a pillow, watching the egg.

Lujayn scoots forward as much as she can manage, smirking at the offer of a bet. "It'll be at least sixteen." She calls back, but no offer is made. "Paddy, maybe you know the big secret. How'd all the eggs end up white?"

Caitlyn chuckles when Mic introduces Izzy to her. "Yep, we've met a few times already. Heya, Izzy." A look of humor is given to T'mic. "What can I say, he does certain jobs he's fit for, right now."

O'lin walks down the stairs towards the entrance.
O'lin has left.

"Well, no pretty things now, for any amount of marks," remarks Izarit wistfully. "But if you need a little trim..." Without much hope, she eyes T'mic's close-cropped hair. "Or know anyone else who does," she amends. A nod to Caitlyn confirms the bluerider's words, accompanied by a smile toward her.

From the sands, Nalaieth's rest has her improving somewhat, and she croons encouragingly to Jekzith for his tender care of the recently-arrived pair of eggs, taking the moment to rest before she starts inspecting them herself.

"Ooh, I like that one," Noemie comments of the most recent arrival, taking a bite of cookie and munching happily as she assesses it further. "It looks... intriguing." The cookie's gone in just a few bites, and then she licks her fingers of whatever crumbs are left.

Kamia chuckles at her too."You're as bad as I am Noemie... I want some seasoned herdbeast steak though."

"You -and- your cousin...?" T'mic begins, only to be distracted by words only now burrowing into his brain. "...Did someone say /three/ marks? Shells, who has that kind of money?" Up he stands - half-stands - peering about at the audience. No more eggs for him, not just now.

From the sands, P'draig looks over towards where Jekzith is fussing again. "Mm, he's in his element sort of. Able to get his nose into everything," says the Fortian Weyrlingmaster with a fond grin for the brown. "Why're they all white? Well if you look closely enough, they've all got some shading and color in them. Just not as bright as some." He doesn't look fussed about it at all. "Different dragons make different eggs."

From the sands, Tawny Nalaieth moves among the eggs as though counting them, making certain none are missing and none need rearranged. Finding an open area of sand, she prepares a mound, leaving a rather worse-for-wear egg behind.

From the sands,

Chantha overhears T'mic and helpfully points. "The handsome one in red and black. He's a Holder's son from Southern--or that's what he said to the Weyrwoman, anyway." And now she'll blush scarlet and die on the spot, because she didn't mean to say 'handsome' out loud.

"No one? None? I'll take even as little a." Hillel pauses for the moment, An eighteenth of a mark. "Anyone?" He wonders aloud, looking back and forth. "I'll take one bet at that rate."

"The lordling," murmurs Izarit, voice lowered for T'mic's ears; she knows the voice and the only person who could call around those kinds of numbers without looking. "If I were him, I'd not be advertising that kind of money around: he's a little scrawny to hold onto it, should it come down to that." She smirks slightly, amused.

Derik leans back, simply watching. For a while he lets the conversations wash over him as he watches the sands and the different eggs there. "Ooh, look Hillelly." he comes up with a nickname for the lordling. "That egg looks weird. And we're at your 15 egg count now." he adds.

Caitlyn can't help but snicker just a little at Chantha's blushing, golden-brown eyes managing to giggle at the girl from above a hand now vlapped over her mouth. Izzy gets a knowing nod.

From the sands, Nolee does a hasty finger-counting of the eggs that are out on the sands, and a sly smile crosses her face. "More than that," she smirks, watching the egg-shapes in Nalaieth's sides vanish. But she's not jumping in to bet on her dragon's clutch numbers, either.

Noemie looks suddenly squeamish at the mention of heardbeast. "Nooo, not me. Much too heavy for my stomach right now. But cookies are good." Attention's back out on the sands, and on the newest arrival. "Some of the eggs just look odd. Ever seen an egg like that?"

C'nroy shifts, the side of his jacket hitting his forearm, getting his attention. "Oh! I almost forgot. Wingleader T'rien asked me to convey this to you." he pulls a wrapped package from his pocket. It looks like a small box, wrapped in plain paper. "Last thing I want is my Wingleader thinking I'm stealing his gifts." he gives a good natured wink to the Fortian Weyrlingmaster.

Aren't people helpful? T'mic cuts Hillel out of the crowd with Chantha's help; he gives the dark-haired lordling a thorough once-over. "Nice." He's no marks to offer, though - or else he'll be spending them elsewhere - for he calls out instead, "You taking offers for things /besides/ marks?"

Chantha's Bitran grandfather's genes come into play. She bites her lip, squints down at Nalaieth (she's got more eggs in her, right?), and steps away from the cluster of riders, raising her voice as she moves alongside Hillel. "I've got an eighth-mark piece here, and I say eighteen." Time enough for counting when the wheeling-dealing's done.

Lujayn hems and haws for a moment, sneaking a look at Hillel. "I've got a sixteenth," She says quickly, pulling out the wooden thing and holding it up so the lordling can see. "I'll take that bet."

Griere ducks her head a little to rub at her nose and sniff again - an act that's interrupted by the buzzing of a little bug by her face. It's swatted away as she scowls impatiently. And then she sees yet another egg hit the sands and that swatting hand turns to a pointing had, trying to tally up the clutch. "Surely that must be the last?" she says to no one in particular, her attention sharpening on Nalaieth.

Hillel looks over towards Lujayn and gives her a small smile before he looks down towards Chantha. "She spoke first. She gets it. I"m sorry." He nods to Chantha before he looks to Lujayn. "Perhaps another time?" He says to the woman before he looks back to the sands, batting a bug away as he counts.

From the sands, The lightening flashing distantly cloud to cloud in the sky doesn't bother Nalaieth, nor does the potentially returning rain. Determined, yet with signs of exhaustion, the tawny queen prepares another dip in the sands, where a water-welcoming egg is deposited.

Trace has connected.

From the sands,

"Your hide, then," says Izarit with a shake of her head as T'mic calls out. She glances back toward the betting pool, then shrugs and turns a glance on the eggs. She's not about to sit down, not for anything on that greenish wet ground, so instead she shifts her weight uncomfortably, batting off insects.

Chantha manages not to clap a hand to her mouth. Silly girl, too much klah and a second dessert at dinner causes wild bets with Southern boys. She stands straight, nodding as though this was something she does every day and twice on restdays. "We're at fifteen now, s--Hillel, so it's up to Nalaieth to prove who wins." She'll just stand here and *will* the queen to produce more eggs, don't mind her.

"Just one bet?" Lujayn raises one brow in controlled disdain, hands on her hips. "Real showy, there. Figures." She sighs airily and pockets her money, looking unruffled. "There won't be a next time. My offers are now or never."

"Ah, thanks for the cookie, Kamia," C'len says, then nods to those around him. "High Reaches' duties. I need to get back home, excuse me." The rider stands, then carefully makes his way out of the galleries and to the bowl beyond.

C'len walks down the stairs towards the entrance.
C'len has left.

"Sixteen now." The young Lordling remarks to the woman that's taken his bet before he looks back to the sands, watching the dragon and her movement. "Hm." He says, "If she hits seventeen and stops then you'll win." He tells her, looking back to Lujayn, giving her a smile. "I'm sorry"

C'nroy chuckles at Lujayn. "You should have seen the bets when we were getting tapped. It was crazy." His eyes return to the sands just in time to catch the Vanishing Ice Egg. "Now that is a pretty egg."

Kamia waves a bit to C'len as he leaves, then looks back to her wingmate to discuss cravings. "Eggs... eggs with cheese, and peppers" Sorry all those eggs had her thinking.

From the sands, Beginning to look a little ragged around the edges with so many eggs on the sands already, Nalaieth nevertheless turns about to lay yet another. Some unspoken signal passes between her and Jekzith and the brown is the one to dig the little wallow this time, waiting expectantly for the egg to emerge. When it does it's almost as ragged-looking as the queen herself. With great care, Jekzith rolls the egg into place and settles warming sand around it cozily, just in time for the next startlingly colorful egg to arrive.

From the sands,

From the sands,

Chantha does not *quite* do a victory dance, but it's a near thing. "Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen," she whispers happily. "I owe you a nice fat beast of your choice, Nalaieth. And...there's a change, that egg's *purple*."

Lujayn rolls her eyes, unconvinced by the smile. "Real sorry." She mutters, looking listlessly over the clutch. "Must be the humidity," She says to C'nroy, sitting back down with care. "I feel done in."

"Whatcha mean, 'my hide'?" Mic asks Izarit. "He's not one of those... /oh/. You said he was a -Holder-?" He eyes the younger man now as though expecting Hillel to break out in mold and fungus on the spot, and turns to beg of Caitlyn, "What is it with me and Holders?"

"You can think about eating eggs? I'd... feel weird doing that just now," Noemie admits, and then the colorful egg makes its way onto the sand. "Hey, look! That one's not white. At all." Obvious, but a surprise after all the eggs that have come before it.

Derik peers at Hillel. "Aintcha taking bets wrong? Supposed to take from many people." he points out helpfully

"Well well. That's eighteen young lady." Hillel smiles warmly towards the sands, the smile over his face quite content even after losing such a sum. Or at last for now loosing quite a sum. "Do not count your firelizard eggs before they're hatched my dear." He turns and looks at Derik. "Even I'd be poor at that, lad." He retorts to Derik.

Caitlyn raises a brow to T'mic when he interrupts her happy egg viewing. "Uhm... what *is* it with you and Holders??" That new egg gets her attention, the bluerider muttering, "Hey...where's the white?"

C'nroy looks over at Lujayn, brows furrowed a little. "Are you wanting to head back to slightly cooler climes?"

"Don't ask me," says Izarit, with a grin over at T'mic. "Didn't know you had a thing about them. Second son of Lord Southern, as it were, and Nolee and I decided the family's nice and sent him here to be rid of him. Maybe they're hoping Kintryth will eat him," she notes, with a nod over toward Caitlyn."

Kamia chuckles up at her compainion. "I'm hungry!" She protests a bit. "And I can never find what I want to eat."

T'mic takes in this new information - or gossip - about Hillel with growing alarm. "One of /those/ Holders?" A quick shake of his head does nothing to dislodge the invisible buzzing insects. "Oh Caitlyn, you hadn't heard? Then I dunno if I'd better tell you. Might be, you know, safer."

Chantha says sidelong to Izarit, unable to suppress a happy grin, "Not until he pays me! Then he's all Kintryth's, or Jekzith's, or whoever wants him."

Derik rolls his eyes upwards at Hillel. "Sounds like a stupid way." he stands and moves his way up the benches a bit, looking around for someone. "Caitlyn!" he hollers. "Where's Trace?" he asks in a quieter tone as he comes up closer to her.

Caitlyn cackles loudly when Izarit says that. "If only Kint weren't so picky about those he wants to ingest!"

Where's Trace? A good question. It might be hard to spot him at first, but if one looks hard they'll see him. At the entrance to the stands, as far away from the sands as he can be, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the sands and the clutching. His face betrays his emotions of uncertainty...but he is there, for the moment, having made his way that far back in a short time before.

Izarit gives T'mic a curious look, tilting her head. "Tell me," she pleads, with her winningest smile, on the hills of his refusal to Caitlyn. Of course, it's put on hold long enough to mutter reassuringly to Chantha, "I'll see if Kintryth can't give him a good shake to get all the money out first. But, oh." She looks mournful as Caitlyn corrects them, sighing melodramatically. "Ah, well. It's probably for the best: a refined palette such as his, he'd probably end up with indigestion from the slimy..." She trails off, smile returning.

From the sands, Nolee overhears Caitlyn's laughter, and its infectious; she can't help it, she joins in. Only after she realizes it's -Caitlyn- does she manage to quiet it, then smiles again at Nalaieth, trying so hard to manage a burst of energy out on the warm sands. "You can do it, come on," coaxes the goldrider.

"I can wait 'til this is over. Or whenever you were going back." Lujayn fixes her gaze on the sands, watching Nalaieth move about.

From the sands, Nalaieth's wending her way through the eggs, nudging this one and pushing more sand around that one when there's a startled croon, the last of the clutch arriving like an unexpected blizzard.

Noemie nods understandingly. "Oh, me neither. How 'bout after we leave here, we go hunting for just what we want?" Then there's a look of worry cast towards the exhausted-seeming gold. "Is she okay? I'm sure glad that we don't have to worry about eighteen-- or more?-- children."

From the sands,

"Kintryth never gave me so much as a sniff," Mic nods generally. As Derik approaches he gets a nod just for him and offers helpfully, "Kid stomped off in a snit a while ago. Dunno where he is." Then to Izarit, "Maybe later. Over a drink?"

C'nroy grins sideways. "We probably should head back. I've got to drop you off and make a quick stop at....." his voice trails off as the blizzard appears on the sands.

Caitlyn is busy egg-oggling and responding to her close companions, nodding agreement with T'mic when he addresses Derik - and so doesn't notice Trace lingering out there by the entracne.

Noemie has disconnected.

Chantha is still beaming. Then--"Wait, you didn't need to lay that one. Eighteen was enough. As pretty as it is, it's not necessary." But she still wins the bet. Nineteen is still more than fifteen. And if Hillel tries to back out of it, at least Izarit will help her feed him to an obliging dragon. Everyone wins!

"Funny, he made me his herald," laughs Izarit. "He probably knew you were just too cute for him to eat. A drink, though--I'd like that, Mic. You buying? Pretty please?" She flutters her lashes for all of a second before giggling again, unable to maintain that expression.

Kamia goes home.
Kamia has left.

Derik grins easily up at T'mic, offering his thanks. "Thank you sir." his attention is drawn to the sands as everyone else looks and he sees one more egg. "Hillel lost the bet." he calls out gleefully. "He bet 15." in Derik's mind anyone else would be the winner. He looks around in the crowds for Trace, but not seeing him he starts out of the stands to search for him. He comes up short, spying Trace where he's returned back up here. "Hey..." he says quietly. "You came to watch after all."

From the sands, P'draig accepts the package from C'nroy with a smile. "Thanks," he says, tucking it under one arm. "I'll have a looksee later when --" he breaks off as things get hectic and then quiet down a lot on the Sands. "Huh ... well look at that ..." he beams a very beamy smile, then eyes Lujayn for a second. "You should both go get something to drink, the heat's bad enough without the Sands throwing more off."

From the sands, As the last egg reaches the sands, Nalaieth croons proudly, then stretches out promptly, resting her head on her great tawny paws. Immediately, groups move toward the kitchens, preparations for a pleasant celebratory meal nearly complete.

From the sands, Jekzith croons softly as the last of the eggs are hatched and busily helps to dig the wallows. Once they're taken care of, he settles by Nalaieth for a while, pressed up against the queen side-to-side for comfort.

"Third son. Sent here on a misson, Izzy." Hillel turns back to Izzy and gives her a grin before he turns back to the eggs. "And I'm sure that my father would be quite put out with Ista Weyr if I were to suffer any... ill happenings. Quite." He looks back over the young woman and he grins. "Nineteen. I think that would qualify. If she doesn't have another." He grins. "Ah, well I think that's it." He looks over at Chantha and places the marks into her hand. "I'm glad I lost." That's murmured quite lowly and only for her.

Caitlyn sighs as Nalaieth flops down to rest from her efforts, the bluerider slowly rising as she again thinks of a certain boy who is likely outside somewhere. A smile for her companions, and she lifts a little wave to them. "Hey you guys, I need to go find someone. Take care, alright?"

Chantha blinks as the marks settle in her hand. "If you feel like telling, I'd love to know why," she says, too startled and pleased to say more than the truth. "Well-met--I'm Chantha. And we wouldn't *really* feed you to Kintryth." Unless they were bored, say.

Chantha walks down the stairs towards the entrance.
Chantha has left.

Blue eyes remain on the sands for a time, and then he blinks in surprise as he hears Derik's voice, turning his gaze to the other boy for a moment, though his arms remain crossed over his chest. "Yeah...fer now." He says quietly to Derik, turning his eyes back to the sands once again. "It is...interesting."

"I might just be able to scrape together enough marks for a drink," Mic says. "Sure, Caitlyn. Regards to Kintryth. --You want to head down to the Sandbar?" he asks Izarit.

"Getting a tan?" says Izarit in a saccharine tone, smile firmly in place as she looks to Hillel. Then, with a wave, she sends Caitlyn off with an easier, "Good night," before she moves to take T'mic by the arm. "To the Sandbar," she agrees as she sets off--still picking her way carefully across the mildewed stone.

C'nroy shakes his head. "I really appreciate the offer. I wish I could spend a little time to visit. Once he's rested, give our regards to Jekzith, please? Chameth misses his mentor." C'nroy grins again.

Lujayn tilts her head. "That egg read my mind, you know." She beams at the Snowveil Egg, legs drawn up onto her seat. "Where's that?" Nosy despite the heavy climate's toll, she peers at C'nroy. "Looks like things are winding up as it is."