5/16/2011
11:26 PM
Logfile from Flandynn.
Xanadu Weyr - Candidate Barracks(#7528RA)
A long, low ceiling room opens off the entrance hall to the arena, one wall slightly curved as it is set against the outer wall of the arena itself. Cots are set evenly the length of the room, in two rows, each with its own small press at the foot, for personal belongings. Wide windows are spaced along the outside wall, letting sunlight in, while other lights are available for the night time hours.
People: Flandynn, Briana, Lorelai, and Landers
Firelizards: Pinion and Tuber
Other: Chore Board, Xanadu Preference Machine <xpm>, Candidate Project List, and Candidate Info (look info)
Obvious exits:
Foyer <FO>
Flandynn is supposed to be mending, so damnit, that is exactly what he is doing. Or, at least, he looks like he is doing some mending. Perched upon a cot that most certainly isn't his own, the teen drags a thread through cloth, again and again and again in a stitch that is more a product of efficiency than any sort of beauty. Blankets seem to be the order of the day, as is a bit of crusty bread leaving all kinds of crumbs behind upon his lap. As he works, he humms, a sound falling easily from his lips, lilting up and down and vaguely familiar if anyone has been about a sailing vessel a time or three.
The tune, is familiar to a sailor. Lan happens to have been passing by, whether having returned to idly grab something or taking a break between chores, he pauses a few steps by Flandynn's cot, tilting his head to the side. It does more than make him curious, he does a turn about, blue eyes finding the source of the seafaring tune. While Landers might have been a face see in the crowd of candidates, the fact of the matter was Lan hadn't met all the candidates yet, not personally. So now, he takes advantage, showing interest in the curl of his lips as he adds in the down-beat to the humming with a low whistling. The bed opposite Flandynn is used in its vacancy, plopping down with a tilt of his head, finally breaking the whistle as he asks, "Whar did ya sail 'n who fer?" The thick accent is a seafaring one, with words jumbling in a quicker style than land bound men and women.
Flandynn doesn't so much as twitch a muscle as he is addressed, but that needle comes awfully close to imbedding itself in the meat of his thumb. It was an impressive near-miss. He just keeps on keeping along, responding back, "Which time?" Dark eyes leave his work, chin lifting just enough so he can peer beyond the overshadowing dark shag of his hair to look towards the candidate across from him. "Most recently? Gal by the name of Sunny, on her yawl, Fat Flo -Florantine. You must be… Landers?"
Lan takes full advantage of the unoccupied cot, swinging his legs onto it without thinking of the cot-owner's reaction to someone else perched upon it, with his boots on. The older of the two yawns as his arms pillow in behind his head, eyelids half closing as he nods at the name, "Aye, t'would be him." He offers over a smidge of a smirk, with lips crooked as his eyes study the work on the blankets. As for the names of where Flan worked, Lan gives a nod, "I reckon I dun know her. Be she a pretty lass?"
Flandynn levels a look down at Lan, "She's grey as Reaches' skies, older than Benden, and could probably bench press you and me at the same time." He'll just leave Lan with that visual as he goes back to his sewing, tugging up the blankets. The movement nearly causes that crusty bread end to roll of to the floor, but it is a quick grab out with his hand to catch the thing and replace it. He is saving it for later, or something. "I'm Flandynn, and I'm not so much a sailor as… an opportunist. They needed an extra hand, and I hadn't touched the southern continent yet."
Lan turns his face toward the side to see that look, abruptly giving into a hearty chuckle as the description of the girl unravels to be one of an old prune, a strong old prune! It seems that his chuckle invited a brown firelizard over from the roost in the rafters, the young looking thing flimsy on his glide down but able to land on the edge of the bed. Lan watches it as the firelizard creeps up his leg, suddenly all eyes for the crusty bread that threatens to roll out of Flan's reach. Lan keeps an eye on the 'lizard for a moment, until the introductory name is given and an explanation to follow, "Ahh. I see." Eyes wander around the barracks before he murmurs, "Seems ya found a bigger opportunity, no?"
Flandynn leaves that crusty bread to be as it will, a scattering of crumbs littering about it. He brings that needle in and out, in and out of the fabric, all eyes for the progress of his 'mending'. "I don't look half bad in white," he notes with a lilted grin, that white being but that limp knot upon his shoulder. "I'm fair sure when my mum gets my letter, she'll be awfully impressed -or think the people down here are cracked in the head along with their eggs." That grin turns into a bit more of a smile. "So, what about you?"
The firelizard on Lan's leg drops to the floor in a sneaky slithering motion. Despite it being bread crumbs, the firelizard is snuffing out each and every lost bit of bread, tongue flicking to vaccum up everything. Lan tilts his head as he regards this behavior, muttering, "Fed ya soon enough Myr…" he begins in a quiet grumble, disapproving of the scavenging. Distracted only by the continued conversation, Lan's response is delayed as he considers his answer, murmuring with a shrug, "Ah… t'wasn't in the cards, but tis a good break ta get me head back in the game, figure out whar ta do 'n where ta go after, I reckon." There is a little bit of a frown as he admits, "Ya hear about the Windy Waters? I be stuck here since, workin fishers instead of trade."
Flandynn continues on with his stitching, seeming to round a corner, and he is back to lining up the blanket fabric just right. Dark eyes come back over towards Lan, listening to him. "The one that wrecked? Or washed up? I'm pretty sure I heard something about that. So you were on that? What was it like?" He looks back towards his work, frowning a bit as he comes to the end of his thread. "Eh, this'll do."
Lan throws his legs over the cot he was resting on, so that he could reach out for his scavenging firelizard, plucking the thing up and setting it like a feline onto his lap. The firelizard seems to struggle against the repositioning until scritches are administered. The sailor turned candidate gives a deep exhale of breath as those questions are asked of him, causing a squint to appear in the corners of his eyes where soft crows feet appear. "Wrecked.. sunk…" he states, "in a squall. Took most of the crew down wit' her. Be it a surprise as she capsized…" his tone is dull, as if he was fighting not to let emotion creep into the retelling, "T'was on it, aye." Eyes glaze over as he spends a few moments reminiscing the day, fateful as it was, speaking only after some time passes on, "T'was not somethin a man can describe. Loud, cold. No time ta think straight. Nevar want'a go through it again." His eyes blink away the memories, regarding the stitching that the other was working on, "Hah. Imagine t'will be right warm, that."
Flandynn bites his teeth down on the thread, snapping it. Fingers are deft in knotting the end up. He stabs the needle into a pincushion, then surveys his work. Sometime during Lan's words, the teen looks back up and across to him, giving his fellow candidate the full attention that he deserves. "Were you with the ship long before then? Knew many of them?" he asks, watching him.
"Four turns mate," Lan says with a dip in his tone, the emotion making it pitch oddly before he's able to swallow back the sudden lump in his throat. A hand goes to the bandana he has wrapped around his arm, a black thing with stitchwork of gold seen amongst the fabric, "Knew 'em all. Cap'n best. I be a wayward son of me fathers, wreckless and arrogant, till I met Cap'n Jonas." He slaps his palms on his thighs as he lifts from the cot, plodding toward the wall space between cots, leaning up back against it with arms loosely crossed over his chest, "Tis narh easy ta say goodbye ta 'em. Tis why I said yes ta all this, cause it be easier than facing the Azov." A chuff of air causes a bit of an odd sound from him, "Be not able ta say I don't miss 'em. Damn well cuts deep, 'mate." Mate being a nickname given to fellow sailors, despite them being opportunistic or not.
Flandynn :'s murky dark eyes follow Lan's movements, watching as the sailor-turned-candidate moves to pace and find position against the wall. "It is a hard thing, and I can't say as I've ever had an experience to equal it, to get an idea what happened. Rough ain't the right word… If I had a hat, it'd be off to you, and to your 'mates." He drops his chin a little and give Lan the slightest of grins, "What do you think they'd think of where you are now?"
There is only a slight tilt of his head for acknowledgement of the other's condolences. Landers was likely the one causing the ruckus at nights, thrashing about in the darkness over the loud snores of other candidates. It was hard to tell. The barracks had been a large place after all and there had been plenty of white-knotted candidates crammed inside it. Finally he does breath out, "Thanks…" a hand lifted to scrub the side of his face in an idle distraction. The last query has the seacrafter regard Flan with a 'you're serious' type of look, brows jutted up and lips twisted in consternation. Only as he snaps his gaze away does an answer come, tone edgy, "Be 'em rolling in thar graves I reckon. T'was my dream ta be Cap'n one day myself, see. I reckon I said yes ta this because t'was my bluerider gal that asked me. Couldn't say no ta her beautiful face." He snorts a little, spoken underneath his breath, "Women."
Flandynn is very serious, but as Lan answers, his grin grows just the slightest. "And there you have it…" The teen sets the blanket down to the side as he stretches to his feet, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head from side to side to work out the inevitable kinks. "So, I hear there is a chance at impressing a dragon at the end of all of this. Well, that's what they tell me. You think that is in the cards for you? Or is this all for the… woman?"
Lan stuffs a hand into his pocket as he props the base of one foot up against the wall, leaning his shoulders more against the wall now than the curve of his spine. The sailor-turned-candidate gives a smirk at the end result of candidacy, "Aye. I know thar is the chance, but it be a chance, small chance in this crowd." He sends a look up and down the aisles of cots, most occupied by now. Darting his eyes back to Flan, he shrugs, "I nevar really thought 'bout being a rider, nah." There is a curl of a lip, "Narh all fer her. She be another man's mate. I jus be a third wheel in all of it." A slight sigh and a shrug, "Jus hopin ta figure things out in me head without having ta be on the water, ta be true 'n all." A cran of his chin toward the younger, "Whar 'bouts ya? Ya reckon it be a good opportunity paired with one of 'em dragons?"
Dark eyebrows lift and make a good try to meet up with Flandynn's hairline at the mention of the triangle. "Is he worth working on at all?" Just as soon as the words leave his lips, his hand comes out as if to placate any sorts of protests tossed his way. "Just sayin'. Just sayin'." He pulls his eyes away from Landers, looking to the cot he was upon -and that crust of bread nowhere to be found, lost under someone's cot or another. He reaches down to the blankets there, and it sure seems to be an odd bundle, thick and clearly more than one blanket. He drops to his knees on the rough flooring, smoothing the bundle out. "I'll try to see it through. I mean, ain't every day a guy gets to go stand out on the sands. I hear they are hot as a gather tramp's cu-" He stops suddenly, glancing back over his shoulder and back to Lan, "So wait… the woman you are the third wheel with asked you to be a candidate? And they seem to take this whole /celibacy/ thing seriously. And you agreed to this?"
Lan's lips curl into a mischievious sneer, "I be liking him just as well. Tis not a bad thing, but they be rider's already 'n I jus be the guy who was supposed ta sail on through. Even though they be saying I should stay with 'em." The shake of his head comes from the situation being of complication rather than simplicity, "Good hearts on 'em folks. Nevar ment ta get serious with any shore bounds." Considering a sailors life was often spent on the sea bouncing from port to port, attachments were sometimes hard to make. That crust of bread? In the brown firelizards gullet. He likely snatched the fallen thing underneath the bed to consume it out of sight of the humans. Lan didn't even notice. The bundle the other is dealing with is a curious thing that gains the older's attention for a time. Then there's a laugh for the curse that Flan cut himself off from saying completely, stilling his own laughter at the abrupt change. Lan gives an exasperated sigh, "Ya don't think I be hurting. I swear I have ta go disappear every night ta deal with this celibacy rule…" There is certainly an eye roll, "She told me t'was 'cause them dragons can not deal with the feelings we get from sex when they be young. I be sorry, but I ain't going ta be without…" A guy couldn't possibly go so long without! Think of the pain! Candidacy was a long time but weyrlinghood was even longer.
Flandynn climbs back to his feet, looking down at his handywork. "That'll have that ass who sleeps with his feet that smell like ass hanging out by my face night after night sleeping in a bag." The teen exhales slowly, finger and thumb rubbing across the pads of each other to ease the feeling after all of that sewing. He was mending, really. Dark eyes move back towards Lan, "Pretty sure I wouldn't have taken a candidate's knot if I could have that sort of fun for a bit." His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, and then he bobs his head in agreement, "Well, I don't see a single person in this room with a dragon yet."
Lan's snort rolls into a chuckle as he pushes off the wall, considering the sleeping bag that has been stitched for the stinky feet candidate, eyeing up the cot he was just sitting on with slight disdain. "Bad as rotten fish, bad smelling feet…" he trails off as his steps have him wandering around the cot, peering back down at Flan, "Hah. Aye. T'wasn't sure I wanted ta. But she be round with child, so I jus be getting fun from him for a time. Not fair ta her…" he winks at Flan, straying over toward the chore board with a slight grimace at the chore placed by his name this time. A shoulder peek back at Flan has him rolling a shoulder, "Aye. But whar else gave ya the notion ta say yes ta all this?"
Flandynn's jaw cracks with the yawn that follows, but he'll still look rather pleased at his handiwork. He'll never be a tailor by any sense of the imagination, but when one's sleep and nose is effected… one will prevail as needed! His eyes are left to seek out where Lan has gotten off to, finding him at that bedambed chore board. "A caprine." Answered simply. For serious too.
Lan crans his face slowly to Flan, brows heightened in a curious manner, "A caprine…?" he asks, though an assistant weyrlingmaster seems to interrupt any further explanation of that. Lan gives a little curse, since he snuck out a little earlier than he ought to for break. Trying not to make himself look like a target, Lan attempts to side step and work his way back toward a cot as if to search for something. Fortunately the Assistant Weyrlingmaster goes on about an egg touching and rallies up a group. At this point, Lan gives a shrug of a shoulder, "Better than runnin errands…" a quick comment, a shared look to Flan and then he's moving on out with the rest of them.
Xanadu Weyr - Hatching Sands(#8600RIJQas)
The large circular "stage" is surrounded on one half by a towering wall, thin slit windows high overhead letting in some light without truly endangering the objects on the sands, though plenty of lights are spaced at human-level all the way around. The other half is ringed by the dark blue seats of the observation level, rising upwards towards the back wall. The circle itself is filled with a mix of red and white sands, deep enough to cover the largest of dragon eggs with ease. To one side, a small door is visible, hidden away behind a platform meant to provide a place for the clutch parent's lifemates to stand during the on goings.
Dinner is just past this chill fall evening and once again the AWLMs have assembled a group of Candidates to spend time on the sands getting comfortable wit the eggs. This time the Weyrwoman has coaxed Seryth further away and to one side, the sand carefully brushed from the eggs so they may be more clearly seen. The queen is clearly not happy about this, as her yellow-fleck eyes give evidence to her mood. Thea is seated on the folded forearms as it has proved the best way to keep her settled. As the group is ushered in and given the standard instructions of no running, no fooling around, keep from loud talk, she waits, beckoning them onto the sands and to the eggs with the smile of encouragement so many seem to need.
Ontali has connected.
Flandynn shows up with all of the panache of a debutante at a Turn's End ball, only those are eggs (not suitors), and he is far from wearing his best ball gown. Yet he is more than happy to a little touchy-feely for the sake of getting to know each other. The teen crosses out towards the sands, all wide, dark eyes, and jaw loose enough to part his lips. "Wow, they were right, I-" It is a nudge from a fellow candidate that has the teen cursing under his lips and falling into a hasty and quite low bow. "So, what do we do now? We… we really touch them?" Stage-whisper.
Wrangled in again, during an over extended break in the barracks, Landers strides in on after the manageable size group. His attention is once again drifting to Seryth, smirking with amusement to see the Weyrwoman sitting on her forearms again. A glance to Flandynn though, since he found some common ground to talk with the other candidate, "Jus hope I don't cry again out here… sharding shameful…" he hisses with a snort, "some of 'em are strong willed." An eye toward a few of the eggs that have certainly garnered his attention since his first touching. Still, he hadn't been able to experience all of the eggs, and this was a welcomed breather from the arduous chores the Headwoman has found for him.
The dinner calling for the Candidates has Kiley among the group of other candidates eager to touch the eggs. Curiosity has brought the woman back to see what the rest of the eggs have to offer and show her. She makes her way onto the sands with a careful step, taking note of the heat that greets her once more with a deep breath . The breath is slowly released, serving the purpose of also calming the woman down as she casts her gaze to the Weyrwoman who beckons them in. A bow is given in greeting to the queen who has grown irritated with their constant presence upon the sands and among her children. It takes another moment for her to straighten and then to look to the eggs, choosing one and moving forward with a slight hesitation and a glance to the queen who sits there watching. She pauses, however, before the egg and she smiles towards Flandynn for his questions. "We touch them." She insists and then comes to settle a hand upon the Avenue of the Dead Egg.
Karona comes in towards the back of the group, smelling faintly of the forge, but she looks clean enough. She wouldn't be out here if she hadn't first cleaned up to a respectable state. Thea and Seryth get a long low bow, but the candidate waits back to eye the eggs. "Hmm." she murmurs, eyes casting over the ones she had yet to touch. She furrows her brow slightly, then picks out a multi-coloured shell, making her way to lay a careful palm on the surface of the Monument of Time and Space Egg.
Flandynn's voice drops even lower, shooting a covert glance towards Landers. "Really?" His features school into something between a fittingly impressed and amused line, complete with quirked lips and curious eyes. Huh. Getting the idea that these aren't wherry eggs by any stretch of the imagination, and not about to actually voice that thought aloud, the teen fetches up next to one egg, shrugs his shoulders, then reaches out to touch Love's Timeless Temple Egg.
Karona seems to be bracing for something, but there's a puff of breath, exhaled in relief, as the mind in the shell reaches out to her own. "Mm. Hello." she says, because it's only polite. She starts to hum then, a harper lullaby, swaying slightly from side to side. "…my father… he used to sing to us." she murmurs, tone hushed but fond. Those are good memories. "You like those, do you?" she queries, then attempts to hum a few bars of another song, a duty song perhaps. It's perhaps obvious why she never became a harper, but the proper tune is in her mind, and that's what matters.
Lan lingers on the outset as candidates start rushing to touch the eggs. There was about half the clutch in which he didn't manage to experience, however he definitely waits until the girls have made their choice. It was the gentleman inside. Or maybe he was conflicted with approaching the eggs too fast. A look to Flandynn, a nod, "Aye. Really." Then noticing the other's path of choice before his own starts toward Stele Transitions egg. There's the usual walk around done before his hand swipes across the shell.
"Be polite. Don't run. Don't yell or make fools of yourselves." R'iahn strides onto the sands after some of the Candidates, rattling off the usual rules as he gives a jerky bow to Seryth and a smile for Thea. "Weyrwoman. Seryth." Politely enough, he greets, then lingers a dragonlength or so back, watching the Candidates with narrowed eyes.
« Your Beloved arrives unexpectedly and unsought, with a warmth that steals around your heart. Smile for me? It's a breath of a sigh for your ears only, Oh, you have such nice eyes! What is your name? Where are you from? You are. Different. What is this quality that you have that no one else does? In the silent pause, there is the feeling that someone listens attentively, hanging on your every word until the contact almost skips away as it leaves you behind with a giddy gotta-dance sort of feeling. »
Kiley draws in a deep, shuddering breath as eyes close to enhance the scene the egg presents. The woman's head tilts slightly, right then left as she takes another breath. A shiver runs down her spine as the woman tenses up just so to whatever it is that is shown to her, fills her mind, and ears and another breath comes to calm herself. She doesn't jump, however, slowly opening and blinking slowly and then slowly closing. Her brows furrow and she remains a thoughtful silence before whispering. "Because I am curious.."
Over on her seat, lounging against the backrest of Seryth's chest, Thea catches that smirk from Landers, but unsure what that's all about merely raises a dark brow. An incline of her head acknowledges those bows, including R'iahn's and a half-smile accompanies it, but it's clear her concentration is on keeping the restless queen still.
Karona's head bobs, and she hums along to something only she can hear, as best she can. She seems at first unable to remain still, the egg capturing her body with the images it is sending, the sounds. And then it fades, she falls silent and still, brow furrowing slightly. "That's Fort… I touched eggs there too… I… hmm." she shakes her head slowly. "Faces, lots of faces… there, there's one." she says, furrowing her brow as she concentrates on replicating the image. "…my father…" Because who else matters more?
Lan isn't exactly educated in the ways of the shore or land bound, so the image has him pulling back with confusion, "Tis a lot of sand. Can not be real…" he notes, to himself, again provoked to make some reaction to what lies underneath the shell. The older candidate takes a deep breath as if it would be his last, finding his hand one again sweeping over the shell, tempting his fate with it, the willpower of his mind and the perseverance of soul. "I be not going home yet, mate…" spoken as a last determination, lingering there to see what else the egg has to show him.
Flandynn's hands are not often open that first egg he touches. Hardly a beat, a breath, a blink and the teen is plucking his hands right on off of that shells as if he just touched hands to a hot iron. "Crackdust!" He bounces back a step, only to cringe at his lifted voice and then shoot a rather obvious glance around to see if anyone noticed/heard his reaction. A muttered "Sorry" follows, murky eyes sharpening while focusing upon the Timeless egg. No, that wasn't a wherry's egg at all. A breath later and he chuckles to himself, and walks with a bit more of a strut to another egg nearby. Clearly it had nothing to do with what the Timeless egg gave him, clearly… So anyway, he'll get more into this and fondle An Eternity at Attention Egg.
« Rivers of Quicksilver drift indolently through your seeking mind, neither entirely welcoming your presence nor rejecting it openly. Just out of reach, a world of hedonistic pleasures in warm ambers and emeralds, but that is not for you. At first it does not question, merely observes — pulls thoughts, feelings, sensations at random. The feel of wind on your face. Your first scraped knee. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Here, it stops. Examines closer, curiosity and mild disdain sluicing through your thoughts. This! This is useless, it decrees with authority. Reasonings are not noted, not even examined briefly, for what need has it of excuses? Excuses do not a strong being make. It is strong! Are you? Not-so-subtle doubt drips in decadent shadows, drawing across your consciousness like a heavy tapestry or blanket. Perhaps you could use the protection? It doesn't-quite taunt, more provoke, as if seeking some sort of retribution. What will you do, against its' doubt? Have you anything to say for yourself? »
For those watching the reactions of the candidates, Lan seems to be affected by this egg physically. He starts -leaning- to the side, stuck in the trance that his connection with the egg has on him. Eventually that leaning gets to extreme angles. It was as if someone pushed him to the side as he actually stumbles, nearly taking a plummet into the hatching sands, able to catch himself only due to his sea-legs! The man blinks at his near fall, not knowing exactly what caused it. No matter, his hand came away from the egg to break his connection with it so that he caught himself in time. In time to also hear the expression from Flandynn. Shooting a glance over, there is a knowing look underlying the smirk. However, he wasn't finished with the egg he was at, grunting toward it, "Whar the shells be a 'Temple'…" he says the word with an unfamiliar twang, the word barely said in the way he heard it. A hand goes upon the shell, the sailor determined to figure it out.
Karona furrows her brow, hunching forward over the egg without even realising it. "I… slow down, slow down, I can't keep up." she complains, though she at least manages to keep her voice quiet. "My time… I…" she leans in closer to whisper, "I write… letters to my father. Or I visit." Does everything involve her father? Quite possibly. She's a real daddy's little girl, Karona. "…why? I don't. I don't!" she protests, at /something/. Her feet shift uncomfortably in the sands, face turning red. "It's… hot." she murmurs. But surely she must be used to heat, as a smith? She rubs at the back of her neck, then grimaces, turning her head round to eye the galleries. No-one there, at least, not /directly/ behind her. "Strange… strange." she murmurs. Her brow furrows more, and she suddenly straightens her back. "Here to stand." And hopefully be found worthy? She seems to be bristling at the egg's questioning, or maybe it's that persistent sense that she's being watched. She keeps glancing to the galleries now.
Kiley tenses suddenly, her face contorting in pain and then her head bowing down slightly while her bottom lip is taken into her mouth to hold the sounds that she would make inside. An uneven breath is drawn, trembling, and then held tightly. It comes out as a gasp, startled as eyes flutter helplessly in the onslaught of what it shows before closing tightly with a determined push forward to see it through. Her head shakes once, then twice in response to some question the egg pushes forward. "I am aware." Or so comes the response, and then she shudders visibly and shakes her head again. "Don't." Her plea comes even softer than the previous response, a whimper that slowly is snuffed by the action of taking her bottom lip into her mouth once more and biting down. Soon a breath is drawn in shakily before coming back the same way as she opens her eyes to stare at the egg in a silent contemplation, bearing all her thoughts to the mind inside.
Karona blinks. "I don't… I…" shoulders slump as the mind withdraws. "I don't understand…" she murmurs, patting the egg on the shell. "Maybe you'll explain later." she decides, moving back to eye the eggs once more. The Lost in Fathoms Below Egg is the first she sets eyes on, and up she gets, moving over to examine the shell. "Blue, so blue…" she murmurs, laying a hand on it.
Flandynn might just have yanked those self-same hands right from the surface of that shell, just as puzzled at the sensations as the egg before. "Shells, this is… shells." Because that is what he is touching, and the feeling within is something that brings on a most curious tilt to his head. He admits, with a murmur, "Huh, I had no idea…" Whatever thoughts curl through his mind are left unsaid, mixing with ideas of curiosity. To the depths with this thing doubting him, for his own doubts over what is within that shell reign. "Really?" Yeah, question right back at you, egg.
« Rivers of Quicksilver manages to drift from lazy contentment, curiosity now more plainly evident in a slow but steady stream of vague pressure on your mind. Colors drift in absent sensations around you, giving the faint impression of darkness and *something* beyond. What beyond? That is the question, is it not? Evidently not *un*impressed, at least, by whatever response you offered forth, it goes lazily back to sifting through sensations and memories with growing hunger. This it likes, this it does not — this it does not get the point of, and thus disdains without pause. What is it, to be living? Do you know what it is to be infinite? No? This is not unexpected. It does not really expect you to know much, so is not disappointed when your answers fail to meet its' expectations. Never mind that the hair on the back of your neck prickles with every twang of discord from this one. A precursor to danger? It does not seem so on first examination, at least, as the curious one withdraws to its' own thoughts briefly. It has much to consider. »
Lan's reaction isn't so obvious this time. He wasn't about to take another tumble or yell out. The reaction is subtle. It was like a student having an epiphany in regards to a difficult problem after studying it for hours. The man leans back from the egg, nodding in after thought, "Epic…nah have ya name lost in the sands of time…" he whispers to himself, clenching his fist at the side, chin lifting. There was a glance over his shoulder, inspecting how the others were doing. A time later he leaves it, reluctant. Sluggishly he works his way toward another egg, several times having to glance back, that moment of epiphany staying with. Until his hand rests on the Monument of Time egg.
Karona licks her lips, leaning into the egg, as though longing to fall into the imagery completely. Her other hand raises of its own volition, settling lightly on the egg's shell. "Are you going some place? Oh, no, please don't." she entreats, holding both palms flat to the egg's surface. "Such a refreshing touch, on these hot dry sands." She furrows her brow, and shakes her head. "I'll find you."
Another breath is drawn as Kiley is free to do so to calm herself, remind herself where she is and that her fingers rest along the shell of an egg. They stroke in the gentle reminder, though it does not stop the shaking from the previous feelings and the thoughts that crossed her mind. Lips press into a thin line as her bottom lip is released again while her held breath is released through her nose. The curve of a smile begins to form, brief and fleeting as it is quickly gone and replaced with a look of confusion. Eyes flutter open again to stare at the egg, brows furrowing and then her hand is drawing back to be considered while her gaze tilts upwards. Confusion lingers and slowly there is acceptance of something before she steps back and away from the egg. To the next one she steps, her steps a little less sure than before as thoughts continue to linger as she steps before the next egg. She considers the egg and the coloration before fingers tenderly settle upon the shell of the Islands of Strange Stone Egg.
"Ya have ta see… iffin thar be anythin ya like…" Landers' seafaring accent speaks to the egg, not without a casual glance back to the egg he just left, frowning at it as if wanting to return, only to put his mind toward this one. It wasn't fair not to have a clear mind for the dragon inside to inspect. Difficult to do with the promises of what the other would be. Gritting his teeth, he tries sweeping his hand over it once again.
Karona's hand lifts from the egg to grab at something, coming up with only air. The woman seems disappointed, or perhaps her stomach does, as it's growling. It may be after dinner, but she worked all through dinner, didn't she? Of course she did. "Oh, do share. It's rude to tease." she pleads, though the image can not nourish her. "I… I don't /know/." she admits, tone pained. "I work? I guess. I… I behave? I am very polite. …I try to be." these are good things, right? Right.
Flandynn removes himself from the Eternity Egg, something akin to a frown touching his features. It isn't so much an angry twist, or unhappy, more of skepticism. Hands draw down his sides, as if wiping away what he felt. He breathes out slowly, a bit more hesitant to try another. His eyes float along, noting the other candidates, sweeping over the egg that broke his egg-touching virginity, and instead moves approach a different one. Fingers spread and wiggle, then he reaches towards Halls of Crumbling Stone Egg.
« Wanderer of the Ancient World unfolds like parchment spread across a work table. Dim candle-light flickers, casting shadows across surface giving a feeling of movement. On this blank canvas, there is life! This is only just the beginning - the start of a legend. No. An EPIC. The silhouettes seem to take the shapes of places - mountains, seas, forests. There is adventure there for those who seek it. The lure of these far off lands is almost entrancing in the play of light and darkness. Here is where your road will lead if you are brave enough to take the first step. In your ear, there is a roar of a distant crowd and the clashing of metal on metal. Adoration, adulation, glory. All of this, yours for the taking! The temptation seems to call to you, summoning the best parts of you to the surface. There were no others like you before, and there never will be. You alone can be the one to grasp this in your hands, but this is not a path for the weak, or mild. It takes courage, strength, will. Are you ready? »
Laughter slips from the woman's lips suddenly, a smile fixating upon them once the laughter fades and it remains in place. Kiley's fingers easily trail along the shell, thoughtful, happy, and utterly care free for the moment. Whatever the last egg showed her was nothing that this one could not cure and the happiness is quite infectious. More laughter follows, a soft giggle of delight before it begins to fade away along with those happy looks. Silence begins, lingers and then a breath is drawn as a startled gasp and the woman removes her hand. The sudden removal causes a shock and she stares at her hand, blinking at it as her gaze travels up her arm for a moment. A frown settles in, determination kicking forward to face whatever it is that lingers in this shell. Her hand reaches forward and her fingertips settle upon the shell.
Karona's eyes open slightly wider at some thing, and she nods slightly. "…sure. Sure. We could… if… that could happen…" she murmurs. "…after… after food." she decides, with a grimace, stepping away from the shell, stomach rumbling once more. Her eyes drift to the galleries, /still/ a little paranoid she's being watched, but again she seems to see nothing there, as she moves off to one side of the sands to eye the eggs. Which one next? This will take some thought. Food apparently isn't a thought - she can eat /after/.
"Jonas…" Landers' says without thinking and to what he was answering is unclear. Touchings were starting to get like that. No one knew what caused the reactions, no one knew what was going onside other's heads. As it was, it was all sort of a cryptic experience. There is a slight exhale of breath for the name he knew so well, his head tipping down as his hand draws away from the shell, "Tis many that be coming and going, but Jonas…" there was a shake of his head and a hand that stroked from his brow down to his jaw, rubbing his face with a wilted expression. Sucking in his breath, his hand tentatively reached out again, his expression schooled.
R'iahn narrows his eyes at the Candidates as they mince and twitch and mutter to themselves, watching for anything that might thoroughly irritate Seryth. "Oi, lad!" Called quietly to a stringy boy barely old enough to stand from a nearby hold. "Don't drool on it." He heaves a longsuffering sigh, then squints Karona-wards for a moment. Leaving the candidate alone, though, the man shifts a little on the sand and wrinkles his nose. What? It's hot!
"Because…" There's no real answer for the egg, for the question it offers and the look that crosses her face is helpless. It can't really see Kiley's expression but that is what comes across her face before she's drawing in another deep breath that shakes with fear. A shiver runs down her spine and her eyes close just a little tighter in response to whatever it is that brought that shiver. Eyes open and her hand pulls back from this egg as fear continues to cause the woman to tremble, as she stares at it a moment longer. She shakes her head and whispers a soft apology as she turns away to find another egg to settle at, unable to face whatever it is that resides in the shell. She takes some time away from this egg to look at the other candidates and to regain composure as fingers begin to twist at the bracelet on her wrist, seeking comfort of some sort.
Karona catches R'iahn's squint, and shoots a vague smile his way - she's fine, really! As if to prove it, she moves back towards the eggs, though she's not really giving any thought to which, or where. It's the Claimed by the Sea Egg she lands beside, hand brushing against the shell tentatively.
A philosophy spills out of Lan, "Not all of us know fer what reason… But I reckon we be knowing it soon enough. One day." His hand keeps on the egg, having wanted to know if there was more to this than he knew. Would the egg respond back to him? To his words or to his thoughts. Or did it only want to know more and to ask more. Fixing his stare on the shell, his eyes close to breathe in what experiences this egg has to offer.
Flandynn's eyebrows fall down to overshadow his eyes, concentrating. A wrinkle forms between those brows, etched there by way of thought and curiosity, just as his lips come to a turn in wry amusement. "A like soul…," but as he remains, things change, differ. "… Or not." He can feel the question at the end, it is answered as the teen leans a thigh against the egg's shell. Ready? Sure. Bring it.
Karona's palm presses against the shell of the egg, feeling its way around, as if checking the egg's texture. Perhaps she is. But she seems relaxed, at least, exhaling in a soft sigh. "That's nice, reminds me of the beach at Ierne." she murmurs. "I wonder…" she starts, then shakes her head, dismissing whatever thought that was looking to become. "…I suppose it could be any beach, there are rather a lot of those…" she murmurs.
« Wanderer of the Ancient World comes like a sudden gust of wind and then disappears! No… wait. It is only the light that has been extinguished, leaving the pages glowing faintly in the moonlight. Every story has dark times, and so many triumphs come at great cost. There is a tugging at the corner of your heart, as if something were searching there. Then, like some gruesome thing plucked strait out of your worst nightmare, a dark shape appears - blocking out the light and casting its grizzled visage on the page. Drops of moisture drip down from above as hot breath wafts in your face. Cries reach your ears from somewhere far off, too familiar to be mistaken. Family, friends, loved ones, calling out for your help. What will you do? How far will you travel and what would you risk? Can you save them? Can you set aside your own fears, or lay down your own life for their sake? The monster cackles in the darkness, doubting your resolve. »
While Lan lingered at a few of the eggs during this 'touching' business, on this day and on the last, he doesn't now. It seems a curt goodbye, an understanding that what is - is. There is only a pause that is taken to cause him to pivot around and view which of the clutch he hadn't managed to see yet. It would seem Love's Timeless is on the agenda.
Karona starts to look a bit green around the gills. Just faintly. "Ooh, er… sit /still/." she mumbles, face paling. "Where? I… well. Here. There's the forge here…" she furrows her brow, and shakes her head. No, that's not right - if she could /go/ only one place. Here isn't /going/. "Harper Hall." she decides. "Yes. Harper Hall."
Kiley regains her composure with a deep breath and then moves to the next egg, she stands beside the egg for a lot longer and then takes a deep breath. A hand comes out to rest gingerly upon the shell of the An Eternity At Attention egg. She steels herself against what may come, tense and waiting for the egg to show her what it has to offer.
Karona's eyes open wide, and again her hand clutches at air, grabbing nothing. Then, she gulps, and spreads her hand open, as if to drop something, before lowering it to rest flat on the shell. "Is it, though? I think… I think, perhaps. I think we will see when the time comes." she murmurs, patting the egg's shell.
« Wanderer of the Ancient World lingers in the shadows for a moment longer, waiting for you. Then, as you return, the candle sparks to life once more, bringing light and hope back into the dark places of this world. There is a sound nearby, like something being knocked over, as splotches of black seem to form over the scroll laid out before you. Childish, almost innocent lines start to form on the page, as if someone very young were trying their hand at script. There are no words at first, simply a haphazard mash of lines. As you sit back, though, they seem to take on a life of their own - a face - /your/ face. A welcome feeling flows into your chest, as if the writer were glad that you finally had come to understand. You - you who are brave and strong and smart. The page turns, revealing that empty, blank slate once more, slowly giving way to the sands around you. Yet even here, there is a ghostly feeling of a quill in your hand and a whisper of promise. 'This is your story. How will you write it?' »
Lan lifts his brow at the egg, stilling a tap of his foot with a certain amount of concentration. A frown for the egg as he detaches himself from it. "Frilly…" he notes with a slight laugh, "better find ya a pretty lass." There's a gentle pat given to the egg, a departing touch at that. There was likely one more that he wanted to really touch and he headed that way now, leaving the Love's Timeless to someone better suited.
Flandynn isn't much sure he likes this egg either. It is a slow process, and maybe he really should linger, but it is pretty obvious that he doesn't want to. Fingers leave that egg's shell, fingers that want just as bad to wipe away what he felt, although there is no amount of rubbing that might be able to scrub out his mind of all of those mingled thoughts. "I…" his voice drops to a conspiring whisper, meant just for that egg. "I've a journal. I may let you read it some day. It has a lot of pages yet to be wrote on." But his throat clears and the teen is standing once more. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the warm air, exhaling and tempting fate once more to lay palms upon Islands of Strange Stone Egg.
« Impending Tempest capers with abandon into the front of your mind as soon as your fingers brush its' shell — joy abounds in the way it seems to skid to a stop, and you get the impression of a surprised blink. Oh! Look. Somebody else! Quivering with curiosity, splashes of sun-dried russet drift through your thoughts, sifting through input like a cheerful records-keeper. Yes, yes, yes. Check. Uh-huh. Gotcha! It seems to take forever with satisfying the curiosity that is so very plainly evident, forever and an age, which is not such a good thing. Never mind your burning feet, there's a rumbling in the distance. It starts low, so low that the being ignored it thoroughly and continues its' curious prodding, but quickly the rumbling becomes more of a dull roar and there's no ignoring it. Abruptly, the curiosity in the mind within the shell turns to abject fear: primal, unbridled terror courses through your veins like a jolt of magma. Whatever causes it, the curious creature withdraws with enough speed to be unseemly, leaving you standing just where you were a moment ago. What…? »
Karona opens her eyes wide at the egg, and shakes her head. "N-no, no I don't think… I don't think /that's/ worth it." she says, backing away from the shell. "G-good luck finding someone who'll brave that." she whispers. She frowns slightly, and glances over the eggs, there was no way she was leaving the sands with /that/ in her mind. Love's Timeless Temple Egg is the one she settles on, hand making cautious contact with the surface.
Karona does not smile, no. The face she makes? It's a frown, a disgusted sort of frown. Ugh, a sappy lovey egg. But, despite herself, her heart slowly begins to melt, her expression softening with amusing rapidity. "I… I'm… good? I don't… I… I believe in rules. Rules are good." This is a quality, right? She sure seems to think it is. "I /don't/ believe in frolicking and… dancing." she snorts, and yet, she doesn't get up and leave the egg. Perhaps she fears her feet would not be under her control if she did.
"What…?" That word pretty much well sums up every last bit of Flandynn's thought process after touching this egg. He was so completely into it with a an amused grin, a bobbing of his head as if in encouragement, fingers moving upon that shell as if tickling and tempting and trying a 'come hither' sort of gesture, but all stops in a breath, in less than a breath. And now, he is left to say that simple word again. "What…?" More words should probably follow that first one, but he is absolutely without an idea here. Blank face is blank.
« Impending Tempest does not so much caper this time as YANK you back from…something. You're back! Why? The roaring in the back of your mind has not subsided as you once more approach the smallish egg. No, in fact, it has risen, risen in intensity and risen in noise level. Suddenly, with fear once more sending little jolts of electricity through your veins, you find yourself — hiding? With the impression of trembling with fear, the being within the shell protects you from what way well be whatever demons a still-embryonic dragon's mind can work up. Still, of its' own design or not, while you're touching that shell you're subject to this, so it steps up and takes charge - never mind that it's easy to tell that that's not really what it would like to be doing. Everything starts shaking, and whether it's in your head or the world is actually moving, it's not clear, as your senses are bounced and jounced about, memories jolting to the front of your mind while sensations and half-remembered scents come to you at random. Whatever this storm is, it's not normal, not right — all of your senses, *all* of them, though, tell you to go. Go! »
Overwhelmed by the touch this time, the aggressiveness has Lan taking a step back, narrowing his eyes at the shell. "Yah… I pity the soul that gets ta be your mate. Imagine that be what D'len's mate be like." He shudders at the thought of green Szayelth, eyes taking in the other eggs and how many of them are occupied. Shuffling away from the Avenue egg, there is an obvious decision made for the look that overcomes his face. "Be done…" this spoken outloud to one of the assistants on his way out, nodding at Thea and her lifemate as he strides off, considering a few eggs on his way by. The sailor had his favourites and it looks like he'd sleep on it.
Kiley makes a face at this egg, tilting her head slightly and waiting. A sigh of frustration follows the first response, the corner of her lips twitching before she releases a sound of surprise. Her body tenses at what is shown, nose wrinkling and then her expression changes entirely to reflect on what is shown. Silence remains as the woman stands at the egg, until the first word comes out. "No. I don't think I am." No hiding the truth of what she feels and then she chuckles softly. "I could.." Comes her next, breathy and full of whimsy before her head shakes. "You grow from the things that happen even if you want protection from it."
Landers heads to the entrance foyer.
Landers has left.
Karona tilts her head at the egg, screwing up her face slightly. "You seem excited to see me. I've been right here the entire time, you know. I've heard about the memories of dragons, but sheesh." And yet, there's fondness sneaking uninvited into her tone. "I… what? Sit still, please!" she asks of the egg, hand going up to her head. "All this running about is making me dizzy." Or perhaps that's the skipped meals talking. "Pie. Pie makes me happy." Yep, definitely the skipped meals talking. "…sad? Sad… I don't like to think about sad… It was so long ago. Friends… Lost friends. I suppose they're still out there, somewhere." she frowns. "No, hey, you got that out of me, you're not fleeing like that!" she pleads. Despite herself, the affection of this egg is contagious.
It is a lot of stuff for one guy to process, each and every bit of it showing with the strain upon Flandynn's features. His lips part, as if to say something, as if to give rise to words to express, but he fall silent again. The heat of the room causes a sheen of perspiration to break out on his forehead, darkening already dark hair. Eyes squint shut to try to lessen the abuse of color and sensation upon his retnas. The sands seem to shift beneath his feet, move of their own accord as he widens his stance, leans a bit more on the egg for balance. Such a position has him feeling that shell, the heat, the surface which isn't as perfect as sight would have one believe. On the exhale, he leaves the egg, coming back to the world about him. "Oh, I like you." But he drops his eyes, looking to the sands, allowing his senses to readjust. What a trip. "If I might be excused, ma'am…?" his voice rasps, floating towards Thea in query as he begins to navigate the maze of eggs towards the edge.
Karona furrows her brow at the egg. "No?" is all she can manage. Some questions are just too complex to answer in such a short time. Can /anyone/ be sure? There's a lot riding on this hatching, lives will be changed, that's kind of a huge deal. Karona gulps slightly, and shakes her head, moving away from the egg. "Th-thank you." she says, bowing to Seryth and Thea, before turning, and heading off the sands at a normal pace. There was something about pie, she ought to look into that.