Claimed by the Sea Egg
It's almost a mirage; this egg that is the same color as the Hatching Grounds upon which it is laid. It is so close, in fact, that it's difficult to say just where the shell begins and the sands end. Made indistinct by wavered hues of turquoise and dancing golden motes that blur the gaunt ribs arched across the contours of the ovoid, pale grey fingers appear to rise from below, grasping sand and lost dreams.
A Tide of Dreamsbears you away from the heat of the sands where cool breezes carry the scent of salt and seaweed. The babble of voices nearby fades, the plaintive cry of gulls heard instead. And what is that beneath your hand? Is it eggshell or is it wood? Where once it felt smooth, there is now a splintered-roughness. Gentle yet persistent, a tide of curiosity flows into your mind and wants to know, What's out there in the wide, wide world?
A Tide of Dreams lifts you, the sand beneath your feet heaving as though you are riding the waves. If you didn't know you were standing here in Xanadu's hatching grounds, you'd swear you were aboard a ship's deck. The hot, dry air in this place freshens to a brisk, invigorating wind that leaves the taste of salt spray on your lips but oddly doesn't move a single hair on your head. The slap of water against a hull, the snap of canvas is in your ears, and the current wants to know, If you could go only one place, where would it be?
A Tide of Dreams sweeps you with the sensation of sunlight, warm and bright on your skin, flooding your eyes and mind with the blinding white sand of beaches in far off places. Tropical flowers and spices, exotic and rich fills your nostrils with a heady scent. It's pleasant, but almost overpowering, before all fades to the sensation of metal coins in your palms, bright, alluring, intoxicating until … they grow cold and oddly heavy as a sense of foreboding fills you and wants to know, Is it worth it?
A Tide of Dreams seethes around you, an electrical zing shooting from your palm travels up your arm like lightening to end with a crackle-boom rumbling in your ears. You are swept away into murky darkness, lifted by a powerful swell, dropped into the trough. It's a dizzying plunge down, down, down. You are one with the storm - the thunderous breakers, the whine of a gale force wind in your ears, the feeling of whipped foam that flecks your face - all serve to quicken your heart rate. Sharing the exhilaration, an almost overpowering fierce joy, a bring-it-on recklessness seizes you and wants to know, Will you come with me into the unknown? Then it is gone, leaving you back on the sands with only the fading sigh of the surf in your ears.
Claimed by the Sea Egg is rocked by an inner tide as the dreamer inside awakens. The wobbles increase, the shell gives way rather suddenly and splits open, spilling the dreamer onto the sands. Flat on his back is a little brown. Foam-pale flecks the mahogany hide of his underbelly, creating a rough pattern reminiscent of barnacles, ebon claws flail half-heartedly in the air. That he was clearly asleep but a few moments ago is obvious from the disoriented blinking only interrupted by a huge yawn, followed by a long stretch of limbs and wings. Driftwood wingbones flex, exposing the canvas-beige wingsails between them, then it's a reluctant roll to his feet. Setting course, he shuffle-pads blearily through the sand towards those white-robed figures, stopping before a very young Candidate with a mop of tangled hair and an angelic grin. There he props his head upon the boys knees and snores. His new lifemate stares, then pleads, "Wake back UP, Tochath!" Soft snoring is the only answer, causing T'avil to look about in helpless confusion, his face still mirroring incredulous wonder. An AWLM arrives beside him and together they guide the hatchling off, Tochath all but sleepwalking between them.
|Hatched||June 05, 2011|