Ista Weyr Log: Lieryth and Riuth's Hatching, July 2009

Lieryth and Riuth's Hatching - July 26, 2009

Hatching Sands, Ista Weyr
The stone floor of the hatching cavern is only visible in a few places at the very edges of the room, the rest being covered by a layer of black sand that is kept permanently warm by the natural heat of the volcanic rock below. Remnants of eggs long since hatched are buried sporadically in the sands, offering glints of colour here and there amongst the sea of black.
The galleries to the south provide room for spectators, as do the hatching ledges that encircle the cavern. A hole in the top of the cavern acts a convenient entrance for dragons and firelizards, as well as natural lighting and a gentle breeze that barely offers relief the constant heat of the sand some without blowing it about. Glowbaskets are placed at frequent intervals on the walls, should they be needed.

Last to be clutched, first to hatch. The High Rolling egg lives up to its name by tumbling down its mound of sand before all but exploding. A large brown stumbles out, looking a little stunned. He moves on wobbly legs towards the nearest candidates, and Jenna of the seacraft laughs and says, "Sure, Onth. We'll go soon as you can see straight!"

Fayre is pacing nervously near the eggs, looking frantic enough for both herself and Lieryth. As for the gold, she looks as pleased as pie as she watches her children begin to rock and hatch. Isn't parenthood grand?

Nenita comes out onto the sands, looking at the eggs with the same wide-eyed look that she had the day she came to touch them. This time however, she's probably not contemplating how many batches of scrambled eggs can be gotten from the duds. Instead she follows along after another candidate in front of her, keeping nearby and nervously picking at the flimsy white robe. That egg exploding and the subsequent impression is watched steadily.

A sudden, furious trembling seizes Lights in the Dark egg, and first small pieces, then huge chunks shake free. The bronze dragon who emerges from the pieces already has his feet under him, and with a quick flip he puts his smog-screened wings in place as well. The only thing left to bother him is an egg fragment stuck to the tip of his nose, and he bats that away with a businesslike paw. Then he's on his way, hustling towards the scattered ranks of candidates like he's got a pressing deadline.

A towering sculpture of a bronze, warm as dawn's light on stone and bright as glinting steel, this dragon holds himself high and straight with unmistakable self-assurance. His face is strong, chiseled, all clean lines and smooth planes with a sturdy, distinguished jaw and sleekly curved headknobs. A wide avenue of ridges advances down his back in monotonous squares until they rush into a crowded series of bumps along his streamlined tail. Tin-cast champagne splashes his trim sides, made all the brighter by irregular streaks that patter his ribs like so much half-rinsed grit. The tall, muscular architecture of his shoulders and haunches and the depth of a broad chest give his otherwise lean build an athletic quality, lending power to long limbs and quick motion. When spread, his enormous wings reveal the length of straight spars that gleam like newly polished metal, their sails holding a mottling of brick and concrete, rendered indistinct by the haze of sunlit smog.

Suizen follows out with everyone else offering her bows to Lieryth and Riuth, adding one with a bit of a grin to Fayre before falling in with the other candidates to surround the eggs. At the first jackpot of Onth finding his Jenna, the potter finds herself a grin and a place to watch.

Lachai isn't looking all that prepared, and not just a little bewildered at walking at this swift pace onto the black sands. At least he manages what is a working bow to the parents - eyes on Riuth - before stepping several times aside when other candidates push to find spots. So hassled, he completely misses the first event, only turning once he's settled to attempt a count of the eggs - there goes another thing!

Javeri's nervously pacing about the edges of the sands now that all the candidates are out. Almost bad enough to be one herself. When the first brown hatches she hurries over to get the pair off the sands once they're ready.

Chaeson is subdued compared to his usually usual self. The rush onto the sands after the humming begins doesn't leave a lot of room for much else. He remembers to bow and he even actually does it before there's a glance before he's moving toward a certain female. "Nenita," he says. "I feel naked out here. Worse than a dress."

The Spin of Numbers and the Perfect Green eggs have been rocking closer and closer towards each other, and now they finally collide in a shower of shards, leaving two greens to stare dazedly at each other. The moss-colored hatchling from the first creels imperiously, and a candidate steps forward, grinning fit to burst. The smaller, more delicate of the two shakes herself out, then picks her way daintily over to Alashi, who kneels to caress her head and say, "Of course you're the most beautiful, Sainth."

Along with the other assistants, P'draig stands off to the side, looking strangely relaxed for all the chaos, though he looks over at Veri to check in, make sure those nerves of hers aren't getting the better of her. T'mic catches another impression and scoots off after that greenpair, while Paddy squints towards the rocking eggs, ready to go.

Nenita could be described as clinging to Chaeson, if one could cling without being physically attached to another human being. She stands very close and a little behind as she stares past him to the wobbling and hatching eggs. "I know, I know what you mean. We should have worn something underneath. They didn't even check us out." She pats her stomach, a stomach presumably not protected by armour.

The Lounge Lizard Egg shakes and wobbles like there's a battle royale going on inside. Cracks appear rapidly all over the surface before finally with a great rattle a head pops out of the barrier keeping the hatchling inside. With a roaring creel the brown claws his way out and then strikes a defiant pose amidst the clutter of shell fragments and goo.

Like a favourite well-loved and abused jacket, everything about this brown seems just a bit worn and rough around the edges. Dark, faded leather, the colour of warm mud, covers him from nose to tail. He's gangly overall, which is only emphasized by his unusually large head and the jagged angle of his sharp chin. A single stripe of mahogany streaks down his neck, starting between spiky headknobs and following bold neckridges to his shoulders. As for his wide, auburn wings, they find themselves dotted by pinpoints of silvery-red, giving the appearance of strange stubble. Below the knees, the leathery colour is replaced by corroded brown, making his talons seem even blacker by comparison. Those large feet don't help him appear any more coordinated, nor does the length of his pointy, weapon-like tail, encircled with rust-coloured rings.

Lachai finds himself close enough to hear familiar voices, which is something to grasp onto, indeed. "Naked and overwhelmed," he amends to the conversation with a sideways glance, "Why are there so many at the same time?" Eyes flicker to big bronze and worn brown and everything in-between - including, Suizen, who he gives a furtive gesture to, should she happen to see it.

Suizen starts at the sounds of a battle royale in progress, then grins at the sight of the defiant little brown, all sound and mess, before looking over at Nenita and Chaeson, "So.. how many bets /did/ you end up makin', Chaes?" she asks, before slipping around a pair of candidates to end up near Lachai, who gets a rather absently puzzled look.

Savvy Skyscraper Bronze stops abruptly during his search. That shard of egg may be gone from his snout, but a big slimy trail of goop is still hanging there. He gives his head a grumpy shake, trying to dislodge it but to no avail. But he has no time to worry about that! No no. Need presses him forward again, toward a small cluster of candidates.

Chaeson nods his agreement to Nenita while he watches things going on around them. He seems surprised despite the everything else when Lachai speaks and he glances at the other candidate. "I don't... I don't remember right now," he says to Suizen, which is a distressing thought all on its own.

Nenita lifts her hand to push it through her hair, only to find that she's messily pulled it back already. Awkwardly the hand is dropped limply to her side, "That's not something I think I want to feel. Overwhelmed while naked. Ha. Ha. Ha." It's a very hollow laugh, as evidenced by the lack of well... exclamation points.

The Lucky Coin egg glints in the light the moment before it shatters, the faded shell falling around an equally faded-looking brown. He moseys up and down the sands a few times, and on his third trip around, a white-robed young man steps out to meet him halfway.

But what's this? A piece of egg shell goes crackle underneath Rowdy Rebellion Brown's foot and his head swings down to study it. The sound. Fascinating! His large foot lifts and he brings it down with a determined smash on the remains of his shell. A creel of delight follows the smash and his head swings from left to right as if searching for things to bring his foot down on. Rising up on all four feet he lets out a loud hiss before heading off.

Lachai could probably ramble enough for all of them, if he wasn't off and on biting down on his cheek for some distraction. Suizen's look is returned. What?! "Lot of good they're doing you then." For the bets. His hand meanwhile sneaks up to tug at his own robe, though it first juts out awkwardly as if to find Nenita's fingers first. Instead, she just gets a grim smile for her 'laugh'.

Suizen watches the little bronze with more interest than is probably needed, all things being equal, before she shakes her head slightly, causing the braid to swing. "Only made the one..." she points out to Lachi, before muttering, "Don't forget breath." Of course, that wasn't directed to anyone in particular, evidenced by the deep breath she takes immediately after.

Savvy Skyscraper Bronze is getting impatient, long strides picking up speed. But he's young and coordination takes some time to perfect. He's barreling toward Chaeson and Nenita and an attempt to stop fails utterly, taking them both of them down in a tangled confusion of wings and talons. He might be looking a bit apologetic after it's all done, but then the egg slime still hanging on his nose gives him a tickle. And he sneezes it at the mildly scraped and fallen candidates.

Javeri's just not dealing with this the first time around! Nope. Let the experienced weyrlingstaff check on dragons and candidates that can't keep themselves sperate. Sure she looks over to be sure no one's missing a limb or gushing blood, but that's about it. She spends her time trying to reassure other candidates who look even more nervous now.

Rock, rock. Rock, rock. The Tasteless Geometric Egg doesn't seem like it's in much of a hurry to hatch. But when it does, it /goes/, spontaneously cracking into five pieces that expose a dark blue dragonet sprawled ingloriously on his tummy. He doesn't seem too concerned about it.

Solid blue and dark as stagnant water, this dragon is the soul of the bayou: languid, dense, but alive. A snubbed nose and thick jowls give him a tough, bulldog look that's softened by the wide set of his oval eyes, which radiate a sense of ease and calm. He has a short, heavy neck that blends into a long, deep chest, where the blue of his hide first starts to thicken and pool. It takes on the hue of a cool evening along his legs and belly, as though his color had come to settle on the bottom, and his stubby talons gleam like smooth black stones. The ridges poking up from his long and otherwise level back are dusky also, a series of rugged sharps that flatten out to nothing at the base of his low-set tail. His wings are densely boned but mark a sweeping contrast to his otherwise stout frame, with long wingspars for balance and wide sails set over dexterous joints that have the potential to make him a virtuoso of the air.

Chaeson glances kind of over his shoulder in Nenita's direction without actually looking behind himself. Where Lachai's hand second guesses its destination, Chaeson's moves more purposefully to find one of Nenita's. "Breath," he repeats, but then he's hit and on the ground and what the hell? "Agh!" He's not aware that this is mild yet. Talons hurt and Chaeson needs to make that known.

The Intently Staring egg cracks straight down the middle with nary a sound, and a large, bulky green steps out of its neat halves. She moves silently towards a candidate, who jumps at her sudden appearance before reaching out to hesitantly scratch an eyeridge.

Nenita falls back onto the sand, knocked over by the hatchling. She screams when it happens, but there doesn't seem to be any blood gushing out of her. Once the bronze is out of her way, the candidate starts scrambling to her feet in a hurry and checking body parts. There's some red on her robe above the shoulder and she pulls the robe away to glance down at it. "Chaeson?" She asks with concern, casting her attention to him now that she's obviously not in dire need of medical attention.

Lachai is breathing. Otherwise he may've taken a dive onto the sands already. "Sh--sh!" Speaking of which, though untouched, he gives an enormous startle when the other candidates go down, back-stepping away but then getting closer again should either need a hand up. "Ah ah-- are you alright?" But Nenita's on her feet pretty quick and he squints, winces, at the mark of red.

Right after sneezing in the face of that last candidate, the Savvy Skyscraper Bronze picks himself up and strides to another one. He didn't even glance this way before, but now he heads straight towards his choice. Once he gets there, he rears up on his hind legs, sinks his claws into the man's ribs, and waits for the floppy-haired youth to notice him.

Suizen makes to move towards the fallen pair, when the bronze dragonet is on the move again. But Nenita is on her feet, and Chaeson seems to be, at least mostly, in one piece. "You two alright?" she calls out, before looking to see where the dragonets got to.

Easy-Does-It Bayou Blue finally gets up and yawns widely, showing the bright red inside his mouth. He looks at the people gathered in front of him with whirling eyes, stretching his little rump up into the air, and creels. Is no one coming? Did they not /get/ that obvious hint? He needs food! The blue smacks his tail on the sands and heads towards the candidates, because apparently he'll need to shanghai somebody for this job.

That next greenpair are scooped up by T'mic again and this time, the assistant doesn't return to the group on the sands proper, staying with the growing gaggle of the newly impressed.

The remains of a nearby egg draw Rowdy Rebellion Brown's eyes and he sets himself for it with nary a look for the candidates. Four feet begin a stomping of the remains of the egg. Crackling and breaking are accompanied by delighted creels. When the egg is in ruins he looks for another and then stops. The noise that comes out of Rowdy Rebellion Brown's throat now is more demanding and sharp.

Chaeson just lays there for awhile, assessing. "Fuck me," he says, but there aren't any undertones that would make that seem like an invitation. No, he sounds kind of pissed off. He shifts to lean up and look at himself. A scratch over his hip and thigh. That's way too close for comfort, man. "I'm fine, I think. Nen?" He finally looks up and around for her.

With a hop and a skip, the Lucky Shorts egg rolls down its mound of sand and knocks into the Eerie Gaze egg, spilling a small blue out onto his back. He stares up at the sky, then climbs to his feet and moves jauntily, if a little awkwardly, down the line of candidates. As he butts up against a wide-eyed candidate, crooning for attention, the Eerie Gaze egg also breaks to reveal an apple-bright green, who wastes no time in making her claim. She runs clumsily forward to fall at Fasha's feet, and Impression is made as the girl cries, "Cairenth!"

L'hai's very suddenly distracted, perhaps by the way his nose wrinkles up like *he's* about to sneeze, or perhaps by the fact that sharp talons are now digging into his ribs. He wavers staring, unseeing. Then, suddenly, one hand juts out to the bronze's neck while the other falls to his bleeding side. "T-This... not trying to be funny, I think Kolniveth is telling me to eat-- he needs to eat." ... Wait. Kolniveth? That seems awfully specific!

Nenita lets out a long breath of air for 'Fuck me' and for once doesn't seem prepared with any sort of snappy comeback. Maybe later. She moves the step or two needed to take her to Chaeson, offering her hand down to the fallen candidate. Nevermind that he can probably get up all on his very own. "I'm okay, it's just a nice scratch." She points at the shoulder wound. Then she glances up from him to see the impression made from the bronze and her lips pull to the side. "Remind me to make fun of him for this later."

Plumes a' Plenty Egg still hasn't succumbed to all of those hairline fissures; it takes a sudden forceful rock to create a long midline crack among them before it breaks, its fan of feathered color folding away to reveal an indignant-looking, burnished gold hatchling. Head high in survey of these new surroundings of hers, particularly the white-robed ones, she stomps away, a few clinging bits of shell still stuck to her hide.

Firelight engages in a passionate dance across the doubloon hide of this proud queen, casting her sensual and statuesque figure in simmering heat. Her size does little to hamper the easy control with which she moves, every step and every turn of her head executed as though part of a dramatic routine. The precise arch of eyeridges, the touch of tarnish that rims her round, deep-hued gaze, the polished brightness lifting her delicate chin and the pointed crown of long headknobs all imbue her face with a lofty nobility. Tracing down her neck in a neat, even line are crisp ridges, each blackened at its base and burning clear at its tip. Across expansive wings and over her shapely shoulders and flanks, flames brighten to form molten swirls of gold and light in among the tarnish. With long, patinaed spars that stretch like spires beyond those sails, her wings are expressive, ready to gesture, to sweep in gracefully or snap outward in sharp punctuation.

P'draig's head swings around when there's screaming and a flash of concern shows on his face. "Shoot ... maybe she should've gone for the chain mail after all," he murmurs down low, though his attention doesn't stay put once he's seen the girl's okay because there's Lachai getting a ribful of bronze talons and the Weyrlingmaster winces visibly, cusses under his breath and steers a rapid, but careful course for the pair. "Hey hey, whoa there, Lachai," Paddy says in a voice that's audible but not overly loud. "Right here," the Weyrlingmaster says reassuringly. "Let's get you both seen to, okay?" And a steadying hand is offered over with a watchful eye for the dragonet's reactions.

Rowdy Rebellion Brown stops suddenly on his quest for more enjoyable destruction. What's this? There's people out here. His audience is closer than he thought. With a sudden rush of energy he runs headlong into the candidates and stops just shy of knocking into a tanned woman covered in freckles.

Chaeson takes Nenita's hand whether or not he can get up all on his own. Never turn down an offer to touch a woman. "Good," he says as he helps her pull him up. Probably would have been easier to do that all on his own. He frowns at her shoulder, then there's a glance toward the new bronzerider. "Oh, I'll do better. I'll help."

Suizen can be loud, when the circumstances call for it. And while the circumstances call for it, before she can even call out her congratulations, there is too much noise, to the point where the potter is raising up her hands to her ears. Halfway up, however, she stops, and drops her hands to stare at the brown who'd caught her attention earlier, when his brothers hadn't done also done so. "Sivrudith? Well, of course I'm gonna feed you first - then we'll have a grand old party, afterwards..." she assures the brown, moving her hand to fall on her rowdy companion's back. "This way..." she adds, looking about and heading for Javeri, given P'draig's current assignment.

Javeri's grin is wider this time, but she can't help it. "Suizen! Oh, he looks great! Come on! I know he's pestering you about food." The weyrling pair are led off the sands to the barracks as the assistant keeps on grinning at her friend. Mauling forgotten by the time she makes it back from escorting the new brownrider off she's a lot less nervous seeming.

Once freed from that pesky egg and its clinging shards, the Firelit Flamenco Gold slips down the mound of sand that elevated it on sure-stepping feet. She strikes another pose at the bottom, still as a lofty statue before her molten wings flick out and snap back in one quick, irritable motion. Those white robes, they're all just /standing/ there. With a sudden creel, an outpouring of hatchling lamentation, she steps toward the candidates, easily snubbing the first willowy female she comes to and moving on to scrutinize the rest.

Nenita struggles (or pretends to) while helping Chaeson get to his feet, there's a smile when it seems he's aiding her in aiding him. "You can show your scar to all of the women. I promise they'll think it's sexy and manly." There's another exhale, another sign of nerves. His hand gets a squeeze before she lets it go, obviously not ready to give up human contact-comfort just yet. Despite what being close before led to. "Good. We'll tag team him. Figures, Lachai impresses a dragon that stumbles all over you. And sneezes."

The Ridiculous Scrollwork egg is very precise in its methods. It was one of the last to start trembling, and now it shudders once, rocks twice, and develops a fine network of cracks that follow those veins crisscrossing the surface, almost hidden in the scrollwork. Then, with two more rocks and one more shudder, it falls apart, leaving a small, shimmering bronze looking down at the ruins, one leg still poised to kick it inquisitively.

Light plays tricks upon this slender dragon, as though millions of tiny lanterns were shining across his shadowy bronze hide, illuminating the night. Only his head is free of those sparkling lights, where his twilight darkness is vividly burnished, drawing attention to his pronounced browridges arched inquisitively over large eyes. A ghostly pallor caps the narrow range of his neckridges, like distant mountain crests tipped with the night's snow. Two near-white lines melt from his high shoulders down his sides, giving way both to the lantern lights glistening there and a dusky gold that pools in the slim curve of his belly. He's small in build, that much is certain, but this slightness of frame is emphasized by wings that dwarf him, broad, diaphanous sails coated with a shimmering shine of navy over bronze. These wide wings are paired with an overly long tail, which together promise to make him awkward on land but swift in the sky.

Chaeson laughs at that, a little high pitched because of his own nerves no poker face could hide. "I'll try t'remember to ask them before showin'," he returns and casts his gaze around to take in the sands as a whole, wandering hatchlings noted. The loss of Nenita's hand makes him rub his own on his robe. "We'll get him back."

Easy-Does-It Bayou Blue continues his steady march up to the line of candidates and turns aside, ambling benignly past. Ah, but wait - he pauses with one foot in the air, his head tilted up and away from them. Beat. He pulls that foot back and goes into rewind, retracing his steps to find what so attracted him. But even before he gets there, and sits down at her feet, his eyes are fixed on those of a big, dark-skinned woman with frizzy hair.

Javeri grins at Ianna and her new blue before waving to try to get their attention. They get led to the barracks quickly so she can get back to work on the sands. Although not without exuberant congratulations to the new pair.

Cracks deepen along the One Thing Not Another egg, and a roly-poly green fights her way out triumphantly. She advances on Masar, who backs away and refuses to meet her eyes. When it's clear he wants nothing to do with her, she sits back with a hurt creel, causing M'sar to wince and hurriedly comfort, "Oh, Inath. I do love you. Don't say that!" And despite his earlier reservations, he does sound happy now as her joy becomes his.

Nenita notices him rubbing his hand onto his robe. Which only results in her looking at her own hands. Which have some blood on them, she makes a disgusted face and tries to rub it off on herself. "Yes, definitely. Somehow." Though she's probably serious, she's also very distracted. The remaining dragons out on the sands are eyeballed, suspciously. Probably due to talons and the ability to inflict searing shoulder pain.

Radiance in the Night Bronze does end up giving his former home a curious nudge with his foot, but the egg shards just move farther into the sand. The young hatchling eyes them with slight disdain; is that all they have left to offer? Apparently it is, so he sets off in the direction of bigger and brighter things--those funny-looking white things in the distance.

Firelit Flamenco Gold moves with ponderous purpose through the ranks of candidates, easily ignoring the male contingent while giving each female in turn their own disdainful glance. She turns her face away from a pudgy young thing from the Hold, gives a curly-haired healer another of those snapped wing flicks, and even snorts her scorn over the small woman with blood staining her white. She stalks on past, each deliberate step bringing fewer and fewer choices. When she reaches a wall she turns to favor the candidates with another demanding, sorrowful cry.

Chaeson frowns as he watches the hatchlings, looking like he's thinking about stepping away when any of them get too close now. And close has a pretty wide range at this point. The gold is watched in particular for a moment, "Are they always this way?"

Radiance in the Night Bronze pays no attention to the people in the galleries. He has eyes only for the bright things: the white-clad candidates and his shiny parents. The hatchling glances back at his dam and sire, as if asking permission before he starts his purposeful march up and down the rows of potential lifemates.

Nenita takes a definite step back when the gold marches her way past her and Chaeson. She lifts her chin, hand covering that staining of blood self-consciously. Quietly to the young man, "I guess so? I've only ever been in the stands before and it was absolutely fascinating up there. But down here, I kind of just want to run away."

Firelit Flamenco Gold turns her head to the side, closing her eyes against all the chaos, against all these unacceptable choices. Oh, woe is her. What is a girl to do? And yet a moment later she is cracking a lid open to peer at the candidates again. Perhaps she's judged too quickly. Perhaps... With only a touch of hesitation she turns toward the throng again and then the oversized queen struts purposefully up to an undersized candidate, one with brown hair and expressive eyes. That's the one for her.

One moment, the Nothing Special Here egg is sitting there quietly, just barely trembling in its nest of sand. The next moment, it cracks neatly in two, and a slim, dark blue steps daintily out into the light. He blinks at the space, at all this freedom, and then heads directly towards a trio of boys clustered together nearby. He sits at the feet of the oldest of them, and the young man from Keroon immediately reaches out with a dazed look.

Chaeson limps away a little bit when the gold approaches. Some man he is, leaving Nenita to fend for herself. Was nice knowing you, babe. "I think I'll stay in the stands from now on," he says and glances toward those stands.

Radiance in the Night Bronze knows where he's going. Roughly. There's been purpose in his step throughout his trek along the sands, but as he reaches the end of a line of candidates and swings around for another go, he begins to move even faster, gathering speed until he all but plows into a tall young man with clear blue eyes.

Nenita's eyes are all for Chaeson when it happens, she doesn't even notice the return of the gold who'd moments before snubbed her. In fact, it had seemed that she was safe for a little while. "What? Are you actu-" Then hands that had been rubbing her robe with agitation earlier go to ears, which she covers while shaking her head as if trying to block something out. There's a look of definite confusion on her face before she turns around to face the hatchling. Her eyes widen before she slowly, puts a foot forward and puts her hand on the fiery golden hide. "Safriath." Her fingers come to her mouth before she starts to attempt leading them off the sands. "And you're mine. Lets go."

Javeri hasn't been told to do things differently so just goes with what she has been doing when the gold and her new lifemate have formed their bond. "Nenita, come on this way. There'll be food in there for her. Paddy's waiting inside to direct traffic and everything." The pair get led to the cavern entrance to go find food and she hurries back to the sands.

Ch'son nearly stumbles after that glance to the stands, blinking and lifting a hand to rub at his eyes with the back of a wrist. Focus returns and Chaes glances down at the dragon with a grimace and his mouth hanging open, which really takes a certain amount of talent. He moves to take a step back but he nearly stumbles again and now he says a little urgently, "Taineth. Shells! Eat." A moment to be remembered.

Javeri's gotten the hang of fetching dazed candidates and starving baby dragons. She makes it back just in time to catch Chaeson's impression and hurries to where he is to tell him, "Come on then! Just follow me and we'll get you two all sorted out."

The Almost Honest egg is the last to break, falling apart around a small green as glossy as the shell at her feet. She hides uncertainly behind the larger of the shards, but then someone in the diminishing lineup catches her attention. There's no hesitation now as she moves swiftly towards her chosen, eyes for none but the dazed new weyrling--the last of this clutch's.

Javeri collects the last new weyrling and heads to the barracks to go help out there.

Fayre steps forward as that last dragon meets its match. She picks her way across the shell-littered sand, eventually making it to the circle of remaining candidates. "First, thanks to all of ya for choosin' to stand here at Ista. Your lifemate may not have been in this clutch, but y'were still chosen for a reason. All of ya are welcome to stay at the Weyr if you'd like, or return to wherever we plucked ya up from. An' of course, there's the party to attend to." The not-so-fun speech over with, she turns towards the galleries and gives a hearty wave to those gathered there. "An' thanks to all of you folks for comin'! Check out our livin' caverns for some fierce food and drink!"