Xanadu Weyr - Hatching Sands
A domed ceiling stretches high above the sands, enough open air for a queen and her mate to be comfortable with their clutch. Thin slits of windows around the edges let in a little light, though more of the illumination comes from electric lamps diffused off the dome. The sands are ringed by the dark blue seats of the observation level, the first third exposed to the sweltering heat of the sands but those in the back glassed off for the comfort of those watching.
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.
Public Announcement from Risali: LISTEN Y'ALL WE GOT SOME RUMORS TO ABOLISH,
I SHOULDN'T BRAG BUT MY EGGS 'BOUT TO AMAZE AND ASTONISH
THE PROBLEM IS WE GOT A LOT OF BRAINS BUT NO POLISH
SO WE GOTTA HOLLER JUST TO SPREAD THE WORD,
IT'S RIGHT WHAT YOU HEARD, LISTEN TO MY PITCH:
THESE EGGS IS DIAMONDS IN THE ROUGH, SHINY PIECES OF COAL,
SO COME WATCH THEM HATCH IN AN ARENA JUST OFF THE BOWL.
THEY'LL BE ONLY BAY-BEES BUT THEIR MINDS ARE OLDER,
DON'T TURN A COLD SHOULDER, COME BE A BEHOLDER,
YOU'D BE NO BURDEN, TAKE ADVANTAGE
WE'VE GOT A FEAST AFTER IF YOU CAN MANAGE,
DON'T GO AWAY FAMISHED,
THE PLAN IS TO HAVE YOU MEET OUR NEW LITTLE FLAMES
BUT DANG IT'S GETTING DARK, SO LET ME SPELL OUT MY NAME:
I AM THE L-E-I-R-I-T-H, DAM OF THIS CLUTCH, THAT IS ME
A DRAGON THAT RUNS INDEPENDENTLY
WHILE THE WORLD OUTSIDE KEEPS RAINING ENDLESSLY
ESSENTIALLY DRAGONS ARE HUMMING RELENTLESSLY
THEN THESE EGGS FALL DOWN, GO ON A WOBBLING SPREE
THEY AIN'T NEVER GONNA STOP 'TIL THEY ARE FREE
SO THERE WILL BE A HATCHING IN THIS CENTURY
(ENTER BABIES)
WE SAY IN PARENTHESIS
DON'T BE SHOCKED WHEN YOUR HISTORY BOOK MENTIONS THESE
WHITE-ROBED HOPEFULS WHO ENDURED ME FOR AN ENTIRE CANDIDACY
EVENTUALLY THEY WILL MEET MY PROGENY
AND THEY ARE NOT THROWING AWAY THEIR SHOT.
OOC: 10 minutes to Xanadu's hatching! Come join us by typing +go XAW, HA, OL!
It's time! Eggs are starting to shake and roll, dragons are humming, and it's just before dinner time. The weather is positively dreadful, raindrops falling in heavy rivulets that ping off of the dome of the arena and leave great puddles of mud and muck all around Xanadu Weyr. « IT IS PERFECT, » Leirith thought, and by thought we mean projected into every unfortunate mind — dragon or human or otherwise, she's not a dragon who bothers with discrimination — within a mile radius. « SO MANY LITTLE BADASSES WE WILL HAVE. » Leirith is on the sands in brilliant (mustard) gold, the picture perfect embodiment of maternal exuberance: big, and awkward, and much too excited with her nose pressed close to the ground so that big whirling eyes can watch ALL IMPENDING BABIES from their eventually-once-they-hatch level. Risali is beside her, positioned down in a crouch with one hand settled against a strong shoulder and the other pressed opposite into brindle-hided sires who watch with more reservation. "They'll be here soon," Risali breathes, to Leirith and Garouth both, perhaps to D'lei whose eyes she meets from around dragons with a too-big-smile despite her state of sopping wet. And then her attention is on the exit of the barracks, practically vibrating with the restraint it requires to maintain patience.
Hallowed Legends Egg stirs in only the slightest fashion, digging itself a fraction deeper into its sandy cradle.
Garouth sits low against the sands, a crouch as he watches those eggs. He hums, deep in his chest, as if to make the sands themselves rumble beneath the feet of candidates. D'lei is near him, as he is near Leirith, as they both are near Risali, watching the eggs that their dragons DONE MADE with a smile back for her before his gaze also goes to arriving candidates. They're the center of attention, because…now's the time! Here's the chance! DO IT. …whatever it turns out to be, in this case. Let's find out!
Steadfast Satellite twitches a little, rousing from its slumber. Sand drifts down the smooth, bright shell, little rivers of movement where the egg isn't actually moving much. Did it move? Were you just imagining things…?
Kera steps onto the sands witht he robed group and sidles over, gesturing for the candidates to do what they came to do. A quick scan around before she moves over to stand with her fellow AWLM's.
Kelani makes her way into the hatching arena with the other candidates, giving a bow as she reaches the sands. A glance given around the sands then up to the stands and looks almost surprised to see so many people up there. A halt in her steps before the momentum of the group carries her forward and she takes her place in the line with the other candidates. "No going back now.." She murmurs to herself, though easily heard by those nearest her.
Zasheir follows the other candidates out, the tall lanky man towards the back of the crowd of white-robed candidates. Taking a moment to bow his head towards Leirith and Garouth both, he soon moves off to the edge of the sands with other candidates, his gaze turned towards those wobbling eggs. It is time, and he's just a bit nervous. And the sand? It's hot, so he begins that age-old dance of shuffling from one foot to the other while standing. Waiting.
Jaelynn offers a smile to Kelani and gives the other's arm a slight squeeze as they are set off towards the sands. "It'll all be fine. Just watch." Is said softly before they make it to the sands and once there she slips quiet, eyes wide as she takes the place in and she is taking in a faint breath. She follows the other candidates within and once to a point she will pause with the others to offer a bow to both Leirith and Garouth before going off to the stand with the rest of the candidates off to the side and makes it a point to stand someplace near Kelani it seems.
Valerian bows to the dam and sire along with the others at the designated time, though there's a particularly toothy grin aside for Leirith, the young queen who picked him to stand for her clutch because he was so 'bad ass'. He'll try his best to live up to those standards as he steps forward onto the sand and finds a place to stand among the eggs.
Tyssarian's eyes snap shut when he steps out onto the sand and is met with the onslaught of water that are more like a million tiny little needles. Owww. The blonde reaches up and wipe the once dry and now clingy, wet hair out of his eyes before he cracks them open and follows the line of candidates out from the barracks. Wait a moment, is this a hatching or a wet robe contest because white + wet.. we all know what fun that is. Tys stumbles his awkward way into a bow to the gold and bronze and then fans out, making sure he's not too close to any one candidate in particular.
Hallowed Legends Egg seems to move… and not move, a shudder beginning at its middle only to not radiate towards tip and base. That moon — or is it a moon? — suddenly cracks in half though, not yet granting any glimpse of the hatchling — it is a hatchling, right? — that lies within.
Hierax definitely looks like he's got the splitting headache to beat all splitting headaches, and it MIGHT have something to do with Leirith's LOUD MINDVOICE. Maybe. It's entirely possible he hasn't bonded with anyone else closely enough to be holding hands, or he wouldn't hold hands anyway, but — he's squinting his eyes shut a little. Between the headache and the rain. His hair is dripping down in front of those eyes. "Fine day to hatch," he murmurs. "Great weather."
Ricki isn't the first candidate onto the sands, but thankfully, neither is she the last, however she is still it seems tugging her second sandal on as she hits the sands. A soft murmur escapes her, before she is following the lead of the others, ducking into a bow to Leirith and Garouth, before moving to arrange herself in the loose ring around the eggs. "Here we go.."
Nikolan enters behind Ricki, hands absently smoothing the robe at his hips as though looking for pockets that just don't exist. For all he's clad in white, he seems oddly naked with no camera in sight, and from the way he keeps reaching up to touch the spot where it should hang, it's clear he feels the same. As the candidates begin to gather on the Sands, he joins his peers in bowing to sire and dam, eyes flickering nervously over riders and dragons before being drawn inevitably to the eggs. Shuffling to a clear spot, he settles down to wait, finally tucking his hands behind his back to keep from fidgeting.
Jaune's eyes are wide as the line moves so QUICK. He is bustled along and halts just inside the arena to bow deeply towards the proud parents, Leirith and Garouth, then spreads out along the outer edge of the arena. He told himself he wasn't going to be nervous. Just let it happen. But the clench of his jaw and his hands fluttering about belay that notion. He doesn't even have the frame of mind to notice which of the candidates he is standing next to.
EIRYKUR: DID HE BOW WITH THE CANDIDATES, or did he just last minute stumble onto the sands fixing his white robes and bow to Leirith and Garouth on his own? DOESN'T MATTER. He might look slightly askew, but he managed to get himself here and he even managed to get clothes on to do it. So maybe it's a little reckless and rude, but have you met Leirith? That's basically her mantra. And cold, cold Eiry, all he gives is a broad-blanketed, "Good luck," with no clear target — all of the candies, one of them, that one's hair? It doesn't matter, he's moving into the thick and watching eggs roll.
Hallowed Legends egg abruptly rips in two, its broken moon the focal point of widening destruction, flakes of shell and larger shards cast every which way as dark claws tear and shred, its occupant demanding freedom now. Unfortunately for them, fragments also fall inwards, sticking to dark hide and slender limbs as they emerge, slinking free of what has contained them for so long. As the light touches a form made to appear all the more angular thanks to the clinging slices of jagged shell, it becomes clearer that this dark figure is green… Almost too dark and almost not a green, but there she is.
| Seal Your Heart Away Green Hatchling |
| A petite creature in deep forest and shadow shades, this young green is skeletally slender, no spare scrap of weight or muscle gracing a form that promises to be agile and willowy, if only she can develop the strength to better support herself. A blunt, softened muzzle dappled with juniper and jungle leads to large, generous eyes that threaten to betray her every mood, each heavily ringed with shadows of kohl with delicate flicks leading from both corners. Short headknobs are a little wide set, her ridges similar in stature and stained with moss, fading to sage at their very tips as they run down her lean neck and ripple into nothingness. Slender shoulders bear the beginnings of the muscle needed to lift her long, narrow wings, thin spars threaded with gauzy sails that are her only true brightness, dissipating from emerald to tea-green at their trailing edges. Compact of figure, much of her length is in her mottled tail, the faint clouds of fern and mint that pepper her all too obvious ribs trailing down her wiry limbs and that generous tail. Her claws are perpetually sharp, dark and of the earth. |
Wyrichthea is, ashamedly, late to the sands. "But it doesn't fit!," the young woman protests as she dances out onto the sands as though she was thrust there, hot-ouch-skipping on sandaled tippy-toes after the straggling sea of white. "This isn't going at all as—oof!" And she collides marvelously with Eirykur's backside as he swoops into that bow, earning him a steep-notched frown for his last-minute impudence before executing a neat curtsey for the clutchparents. Her look at Eirykur is triumphant, edged with a sniff before she moves past him to join their fellow candidates, choosing their company over his despite exceeding newness. Has she been here more than a handful of days? Indeed not, but the choice seems easily - pointedly - made even if she flinches gently as the sounds of shells breaking reaches her ears. So soon?
Steadfast Satellite is moving! Oh yes! Is it jumping? Can eggs make mighty leaps? There's no real other way to explain what it just did, though, clearing the sand in a mighty jolt. Hello! World! Wait for it, it's coming! Just. Has to figure out the hatching thing.
Jaelynn glances to the last few candidates that make it to the sand and just peers at Wyrichthea not to sure what to say. The eggs, they are the stars right now and the first one cracking and a dragonet appearing pulls her attention back there. A soft oh escaping her. "Look at that one Kelani."
SWX is not a valid knot.
Rallexyre, following a completely over-the-top bow to Leirith and Garouth, follows his fellows with probably more haste than is necessarily required. Or is it, with the eggs already rocking and — "Oh, wow." The tiny wisp of a thing whispers, sounding genuinely terrified as he ducks behind somebody. "This was a mistake. I want my mom." The boy mutters, more to himself than anybody, certainly not that pretty green. "Shells."
Seldom What It Seems Egg starts to move, a tilt this way and that in a manner almost delicate.
Hierax glances sideways at Wyrichthea, and his smile is totally amused more than sympathetic. One might even say mocking, but it might also be a stretch. "I'm sure it fits fine," he says sweetly. Like all candidate robes fit fine. Which is barely at all, though many of these are great thanks to his hero Sephany.
Ricki squeaks ever so softly as the first egg hatches, and she is taking an inadvertant step back, glancing side to side. "Uhmmm.." And then, a careful observer might see her taking half a step closer to Nikolan, her voice soft. "That isn't what I was expecting from there.." She admits after a moment, as she curls her fingers in her shiny, clean, well-fitted robe, eyes lingering on the dark green shadow.
Steadfast Satellite is loud when it breaks cleanly in two, as if cleaved…cleft? Cleaven? As if smushed by some deft weapon. The dragon that sits, proud of his efforts, in the shell is…loud. With a trumpet of bright joy at its own prowess against the shell-y prison, the The Will Which Says Hold On Brown stands. Immediately tries to leap into action, lurching towards the candidates. He falls on its face instead. Well. You can't win, every time.
| The Will Which Says Hold On Brown |
| From elegant, wide nostrils set in a slightly roman muzzle, to the tip of his slightly-short tail, this massive brown seems carved from living sone. His head is exquisite: wide-flaring, sharp eyeridges, soft and expressive eyes, back-swept headknobs. His neck is on the short side for a dragon, arched and muscular, matched in powerful shoulders. Barrel-chested and sturdy in flank and hip, this brown's tail is powerful, if not long and whippy. He's got massive paws, deceptively heavy leg bone, matching the robustness of the rest of him. In the sun, this brown shines — not quite metallic, but he's got a sheen about him that's nearly there in the brighter shades. Charred umber, a shade or two from black, almost balances out vibrant mahogany, settling heavily over all of his edges. It moves down his refined head, nearly to his neck, down the almost comically large 'ridges there. Up from those large paws, the char fades out slowly above his knees, before picking up again along the spars on his wings and down his tail-ridges. The bright, ruddy brown set against the scorched klah is still somewhat dark in glowlight, but vibrant in the sun, nearly brick-colored. Soft dapples of paler caramel flash here and there, quiet against the bolder shades of the majority of this massive dragon. |
Eirykur's bow might include a slight lurch forward, but that's only because somebody without manners (cute curtsey tho) tried to make a pass at him on the sands. Don't try to deny it now; an entire arena of attendees saw it, and Eirykur felt it. All on his bottom places. But you know how hatchings go, Eiry raises a brow, pretends she doesn't exist, stares at that wobbling egg a little too hard and WAH-POW: hatching collisions are made because people are shuffling everywhere and now he's the one colliding with Wyrichthea. At least he has actual manners and reaches out to steady her, even as his attention goes towards another wibble-wobble. "I should have known it would be you again."
Jaune's face goes gaunt and his hands squeeze onto each other behind his back now. If he is going to be stared at, hes not going to look a nervous fool. An egg cracks, opens and then others start shaking. His eyes are counting candidates now and he realizes just unlikely it will be that one of these dragons will be for him. If anything, the thought calms him. You can't mess up just watching.
Kera lets her gaze drift among the candidates as they fan out among the eggs. When the first to spill onto the sands is green, Kera can't help but to cheer and clap loudly. "Whoohoo!" She gets a quick elbow nudge from G'ther "What? Some people cheer for big ones first. Some don't." The AWLM greeny grins at that and turns back to watch the young hatchling's journey.
Kelani looks to Jaelynn as she offers her reasurance and extends a hand to healer of a different stripe. The pair no doubt putting off other candidates with enthusiastic discussions of wounds and treatments of human and dragon alike. To her other side is that little boy from Ista she had been worrying over and amazing he has managed to come dressed to the sands. If the hemms are uneven, well at least they are done and it looks like he won't go nekkid today. Kelani looks back out over the sands as the eggs start to hatch and the small dragons make the presence known. "Oh wow…they are so small.."
Zasheir takes a deep breath once he reaches a spot to take up position. Turning about, he is in time to see the green hatch from her egg. "Oh, wow." The words are spoken beneath his breath. A quick glance down the line of candidates is made before attention turns back to eggs and currently single hatchling. Then two, when a brown joins the group. "Wow." Seems this is going to be his go-to word of the day. Speechless is the lanky young man.
Tyssarian's mind is outpacing itself as he runs through the list of things he was supposed to remember to do, or well, not do on the sands. His hand reaches up to act as a shield against the elements and mint colored gaze narrows at the appearance of the first hatchling. Peeeer. "Do we have black dragons?" Squuuuint. "Oh, she's a green. Well that's definitely odd." Did you hear that Leirith, Tys is insulting your newly shelled babies. Time to maim him. Har har har. Big bad golds can't maul candidates right? Tys shifts from foot to foot anxiously and then another hatchling has escaped their shell, and by escaped he means exploding. The lanky candidate jumps, gaze flickering around like a frightened runner.
Nikolan edges slightly closer to Ricki as the green hatches, storm-cloud eyes flickering nervously towards her. "Maybe there's something to be said for those who worried that the hatchlings would match the eggs," he murmurs softly to his friend, before his attention is stolen by the hatching of a second egg. This brown gets a longer, harder look, and he makes a low sound in his throat. "My master better be getting pictures of this."
The Will Which Says Hold On Brown shakes off the tumble like a pro, bouncing back to his feet with another bugle. He's fine! It's okay, everybody, don't worry. Just a little bit of a fall. He's only…bleeding a little. Peering thoughtfully at a tear in the trailing edge of a wingsail, the little brown seems to shrug, turning towards the mass of candidates. Oh! Friends? Well, there's only one way to check, right? The bright-dark dragonet bugles again, and sets off, slower than he probably would like.
Seal Your Heart Away Green Hatchling pauses only feet from the remains of her egg to look back at them and bare her teeth in a silent snarl of distaste. She seems to be in no hurry to get anywhere, more focused on trying to pick pieces of shell away from her sticky hide, attempting to employ both teeth and claws in a process that doesn't look to be terribly successful, the rake of claws threatening to draw ichor despite their wet newness. Still, she persists.
R'eyn has finally herded those straggler candidates together! It only took a third of the eggs hatching to manage it. And… ooh, he's even managed to get them to the sands. This is progress. "Go on," he murmurs to one, a pat on his back. "Now's the time." And then he leaves the kid to take a place on the sands - or turn and run - as he makes his own way around the edges.
Wyricthea smiles just as sweetly for Heirax's comment, eyes scrunching along with a droll, "Easy for you to say," and a brief appraisal before they veer off to observe eggs and hatchlings both. Nerves come for her with a vengeance. G U L P. Suddenly she's glad her robe is too long, lacking a certain Weaver's careful attention - it allows her to lift one corner to fuss it between both hands, expression worried and then offended as Eirykur's very existence collides with hers. "Was once not enough?," she asks, haughty, speaking in time with and over his words. She must hear them, though. "Indeed. An entire arena and you find me." She is not pleased. "What is it they call you again? Reeker?" Ice cold~.
Seldom What It Seems Egg moves more violently this time, hard enough to shift it into one of its co-habitants and leave a crack in that beautiful shell.
An Egg Only A Mother Could Love Egg goes over sideways in a spectacular roll!
Ricki hears a word somewhere on the sands.. "Small?" She repeats, leaning forward and peering down the line in an attempt to identify the source, even a she is laughing. "Small?" She repeats once more, the comment at least making her relax some, shoulders dropping a little. But then the snarling green and Niko's comment has her tensing again, eying the green warily. "Maybe some of them, at least.. The brown doesn't look too… terrifying."
Jaelynn watches the green before her gaze is pulled to another egg and another and she just eyes he brown that is making his apperance upon the sand. "I think it's brown… His so big. Maybe his a dark bronze." Oh she would really like to be scribbling down notes at the moment. As for the green though she slightly points to her. "Look at her Kelani, she's trying to get the egg bits off."
Hierax forces those squinty eyes OPEN a little bit more as eggs continue to hatch. "It's a black lady dragon," he says solenly, "She's very pretty." He would be happy to have that particular dragon in his life, considering what she looks like, even if he's a little bit afraid of greens thanks to his mother. His mother is terrifying. And probably in the galleries laughing at his suffering. BUT, this isn't about his mother, it's about the pretty green and the … mystery color dragon! "I thiiiiiiink that's a brown," he weighs in, "but it's like, a ridiculously giant brown? With glowy bits?"
Seldom What It Seems Egg comes to life! Cracks crawl and expand, spiderwebbing across the entirety of its shell until the whole thing seems as if it just might break. And it does! It bursts: one snout out, a paw, another, a tail and a silhouette that reveals a dragon, dripping in egg goop.
Jaune smirks at the humptydumpty-esque Brown attempting to make its way towards the candidates. It shouldn't be funny, but the poor thing is trying so hard. "You can make it big guy." Its a comment mostly to himself, but nearby candidates can definitely hear him talking.
| Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling |
| In a world where fortune favors the bold, this green treads a careful path betwixt the extremes. She is neither large nor small, long nor short, bulky nor frail, beautiful nor ugly — she is a creature comprised of averages, and this suits her just fine. This is not to say she is unremarkable, for her hide is the pale, cool brilliance of a sunlit sea, rippling with shades of varying intensity as subdued waves push down from shoulders to the dark shores of her paws. Deep dark celadons drawn from a tidal abyss cast cool shadows across the leading lines of her wings, fading to a pallid jade along the trailing edge in what at first might be mistaken for a simple gradient. It is only with study and proximity that one might realise that subtle dapples of sunlight through dark waters are in fact an elegant brocade, lacy stitches and swirls that form a complicated pattern that never seems to stay the same from day to day. Hints of glacial green curve about her eyes in a subtle mask, arching over her brows like a thin, vapored veil before spilling over the soft curves of her neckridges in a long trail of color. It persists in wraithly veins, in small twists of threads and fabric until it pools at the very tips of her tail. Freckles dot and dash across the bridge of her nose, the smooth lines of her neck, and the curves of her shoulders before fading away entirely, some lighter than her hide, some darker, but ultimately lending a subtle charm to a creature otherwise comprised of cool composure. |
Nikolan hums in his throat as his gaze follows the brown. "No," he muses to Ricki. "No, although I'd not like to be under it when it walks," he adds, noting that slightly shreaded sail. "The green, though," and he spares her a glance, more to mark her location than out of any real interest, "I sure hope she can wait until she Impresses to eat. She looks like she's starving, so thin." No complaints here - just observations.
Tyssarian is staring at that the first green again as she attempts to gore, or well, clean herself. He blinks a few more times for good measure, reaching up to rub at his eyes as if that will make the image change. It obviously doesn't. And that baring of her teeth has the teen shiver and take a solitary step back and toss a look over his shoulder. The barracks isn't that far away is it? There is definitely a moment where he debates fleeing. "I knew she'd have crazy babies…!" He hisses in Kelani's general direction, no matter if she hears him or not.
Seal Your Heart Away Green Hatchling gives a low huff and gives up on trying to clean herself up, having removed the biggest fragments of shell from her tiny form. Lifting her head high, she begins to make her way towards the Candidates, slowly and a little too carefully, her delicate limbs trembling beneath her light weight. Undeterred, she keeps on going, the whirling red of her gaze focused on one white-robed figure, then another, both deemed unworthy, her search far from over.
Eirykur is giving a polite, albeit distant smile to one of those fellow candidates, but between the eggs and the mutilation of his name into Reeker, Eiry is distracted. There's a quick flicker of lips that comes before he adopts a expression of utter somber moods and calm. "My mother hated me." It's confirmation. "Though probably not as much as yours. Wytche, wasn't it? It suits you." A beat, and then a hushed, "Look at her, she's beautiful." The green he means. Not Wytche.
Kelani looks between the two dragons now hatched, uncertain who to give her attention to. "Yeah..it is hard to tell in the light. He does have a shine." She says of the brown before looking over to the green as she struggles with her shell and then another egg cracks to reveal yet another green. "Ooh another…" She murmurs before the first green gets her attention as it starts down the line of candidates. She looks over to Tyssarian and can't help but smile at his comment. "Well we don't know yet.."
An Egg Only A Mother Could Love Egg shimmies back to life, fine cracks made in plain shell splintering outward with each movement the life inside makes.
Zasheir has so much to see, gaze darting over wobbling eggs and the hatchlings that are starting to head towards the candidates. "I agree… I think it's brown." His voice to back up Hierax's on what color is the dark mystery one. And then adds another green. "She's very pretty." A slight gesture is made to the lighter green that's joined the group.
Hierax's second worst nightmare: MORE GREENS. This is almost as bad as drowning, which that one egg made him feel like he was doing — he glances around, trying to make sure that the scary egg didn't actually hatch a green, but it looks like the scariest of the scary eggs hasn't even hatched yet. "I'd be interested to see what it looks like if they eat before Impressing," he admits.
The Will Which Says Hold On Brown is chuggin' for some huggin', on a mission for those friends he spotted. They don't all seem as curious about him as he is about them — one skinny boy goes diving aside when he barrels by — which is kind of a bummer. The little brown pauses to eye that boy reproachfully, then continues on, a little slower now. There's something here, something. Better. Something right, if only these new friends would stop moving so fast. Hold still! He can't see you if you're running!
Wyrichthea offers Tyssarian a nervous chuckle and a rather tinny, "W-wait, w-why are they crazy?" Then and only then does her gaze drift back to Eirykur, chilling by degrees as she surveys him from head to toe. "Indeed," as though assessing what his mother sees in him and finding the feeling mutual. And then - flush. "W-what? No, it is not. My friends call me Wyri, if anything, but you may call me Wyrichthea." Ah, a classic case of 'dish but can't take.' Pity. Her gaze focuses out on the green a second behind his indication, surveying her more closely before stating, "I don't know. She seems rather… dark. Has another hatched?" She cranes to see. "Maybe that green'll be more interesting." And less likely to trample - back, brown beast, back!
Rallexyre lurks, quiet, possibly even more sweaty and gross than the rest of his peers. In spite of the thunderous noise coming from the crowd every time Ral so much as looks in their direction, the young man looks…nervous. He's kind of hiding behind a taller candidate, eyes flashing between the remaining eggs and his fellows, making the occasional noise of concern. Or possibly fear. Probably closer to fear. It's not hard for him to hide: his short stature does him favors there, at least, as he drifts slowly away from the Danger Zone.
Egg of Brown shifts against the sands, swaying side to side for several beats.
Ricki laughs softly. "I frankly would not like to be under anything when it walks." And then the scary green is headed in the direction of the candidates, and Ricki tenses, turning her head just enough to keep her under watch, even though in doing so, she missing the emergence of a second green. "I think she'll not be long… Hopefully. Maybe she'll stay over there and find someone."
Jaelynn nods to Hierax and ponders. "True.. I mean… It looks brown but look at it when the light hits it? Very interesting." She murmurs with a soft hum before glancing to another green and she grins. "Aww, another green." The first green does get her attetnion once more and she watches as she walks. "She is certainly different."
Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling lifts a paw towards whirling eyes, curiosity in the tilt of head as she inspects mess and talons alike before she sets it daintily back onto the heat of the sands. Her attention shifts, coming to rest on the row of lifemate-hopefuls in brilliant white, seemingly studying faces, and hands, and clusters of hand-holding nervous friends before she moves forward. Or, well, she tries. So far she's only managed to face-plant right into her sire's hide, but don't worry: she's totally got this.
Garouth rumbles deeper, and turns his head to bump at the Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling's side as she thumps against him. Go on, that way. There's where the candidates are. Choose wisely, little daughter.
Nikolan's lean frame tenses as the brown charges, and he reaches out to place a hand lightly on Ricki's arm, ready to snatch her away should it decide to dash in their direction. "This is definitely a great deal more heart-pounding from down here, as opposed to up there," and he jerks a shoulder stands-wards. The second green earns a brief, appreciative glance - "Look at those colors. Talk about photogenic." - then it's back to watching the brown and warily avoiding coliding with anything dragon-shaped.
An Egg Only A Mother Could Love Egg gives one more brilliant shudder and bursts! Bits of egg go in every direction, revealing the hatchling inside with dripping wings and a bit of ugly-white shell clinging to snout.
| A Modern Man's Armor Blue Hatchling |
| This blue is sleek. Cut. Defined. Not a scrap of him is to spare, for a true gentleman cannot abide by an untailored appearance. A lethal sort of grace defines his form, a stern, angular visage complemented by powerful muscles and a coiling gait that speaks to a temperament that is leashed only because he desires it to be so. The deep dark of a starless night defines the majority of his form, a blue so inky it might as well be black, broken only in tiny fragments that do nothing to alleviate his overall air of intimidation. Palest moonstone curls about his neck and forepaws in singular bands, embellished by a sphere of silver at the very center of his throat and the outer curve of each wrist. Slashes and flecks of purest white streak the long line of his spine, a mix of wolfish brindle and dusted starmatter that lend credence to the wild nature subdued by nobility and the sort of manners that maketh him all that he is. |
Tyssarian stares at Kelani as if she's grown a second head for a moment, "What do you mean we don't know yet! Look at her!" He tries to point.. yet.. not point at the same time at the as she finally decides to start her actual search. "Bah, fine, whatever you say." He gives up (without much of a fight) before he hears the murmurs about the brown and it's then that he focuses his attention upon that one, noting the sheen he has. Oh, and there's the other green that looks a lot more, safe. "But they are all pretty looking so far." And then the green is faceplanting and he stifles a laugh with a quick clearing of his throat. Play nice Tys!
Seal Your Heart Away Green Hatchling abruptly stops, crouching low to the ground, her tail swishing back and forth, while she listens to some far off sound that only she seems to be able to hear. Suddenly, she turns, doubling back on herself in a twist that looks impossible (and painful) to put all her power into a leap that lands her at the feet of one of the boys, her landing not as she must have planned it. Looking up into the green eyes of the blonde that she has chosen as hers, she lets out a mewling, frustrated sound and puts a paw down onto his foot in demanding supplication, her hold forceful enough to draw blood. At least the red of her gaze eases, swirling into rainbow brightness for a moment before being subsumed by ambers and yellows.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Seal Your Heart Away Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Egg of Brown makes a loud cracking sound, and… stands up! An egg-wet leg emerges from the bottom of the shell, its hue hidden in shadow as the egg actually balances like that for a moment before falling back down.
Beauty Lies Within Egg shivers just a little, a ripple running down the shell from royal-blue crown to sandy base.
Ricki catches bits an pieces from Tys, opening her mouth as if she is going to agree with him, but then there is a hand on her arm, and she is taking a step towards it, ready to come to her own aide, as well should it be necessary. As her attention starts to drift towards the photogenic green, there is a sudden bit of movement and the scary green seems to have found someone, Ricki holding her breath and making tighter fists at her sides. "Shards.."
Hierax has to close his eyes again, and then open them again, and then CLOSE them again, and then … this headache thing is getting ridiculous, he might just have to drop dead after the hatching. Only momentarily, but someone's gonna need painkillers and a long nap. It's probably this guy. "Maybe he's not sure either," he offers to Jaelynn, and then in his typical nature nearly immediately gets distracted by the blue. "Hey, look at that guy, he looks tough." He looks like a Kingsman dragon so all is well.
Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling is reluctant, but gives up her spot against warm bronze hide when encouraged (WHAT? All that hatching business required a moment to just breathe, okay), whirling eyes affixed on those dragons already out of their shells on the sands. She tries again, a steady step this time, one tiny paw in front of the other, her direction clear: candidates. We wouldn't quite call her movements graceful by this point despite photographer-flattery, but at least she's moving, and in the right direction this time. She'll take what she can get!
Kelani looks down to find the 'too cool for school' Istan boy grabbing her hand and she looks down with a encouraging smile, "We got this.." She murmurs and looks back out over the sands and grins as the first green seems to make her choice and smiles to see who it is, "Good luck with her!" She calls with sincerity and then her gaze turns to the others dragons making their way across the sands. Her other hand tightens in Jaelynn's, "So many at once…" She murmurs.
Egg of Brown cracks again and rises once more - on two legs, this time! It takes a step toward the candidates, as if intending to impress without even leaving the egg - until it overbalances in the attempt, falling backwards to split its shell apart against the sands.
| Sing Brightly In The Dark Brown Hatchling |
| Dark brown hide is adorned with near-black brindle that makes elaborate whorls and designs over the rounded contours of a powerful body. In the dark of night, this dragon might as well be black - at dawn, merely a brown tabby… yet when Rukbat's light shines fully on him, it reveals a rich variation of color, an archipelago of shades scattered through his hide and swirled with patches of darker hues that seem to almost make pictures that move when he does and pause with his poses to make a symbolic tapestry whose message is as transient as his stillness, soon altered once more by his motion. Big and bulky he may be, yet beneath that soft surface is enough power to send the ball of variegated brown and black leaping and bounding like he's made from the sap of a rubber-tree. He has a rounded face with a short muzzle tipped in black, and a pair of lopsided knobs - one long and sweeping, the other short and barbed - that evoke a hook tucked through his skull. His neck is short, with soft undulations that lead to a single rough-edged ridge between his shoulders - black basalt, ringed by cooling umber. His wings sweep out to either side, large and with a turn at their primary joint that suits him to agility and speed. They're patterned with black designs over the varied browns of them, much like the rest of his body. Down along his belly, rosy brown makes lighter speckles, interacting with the geometry of black markings that make bracelets down along his limbs. The hindlegs are more spotted than fore, and small obsidian talons complete each paw. His tail is short, the split of its tip long in proportion. The knotwork pattern that runs along it splits as well - one side black save for the very tip, the other its inverse in brown. |
Tyssarian attempts to jerk himself back and out of the way as the green leaps in his direction. Tears well up in his pale eyes as she puts that pawn down onto his foot, pain searing through him before the wash of her voice enters his mind. He stares dumbfounded for several moments, listening to only words he can hear. "I.. what? I'm sorry! I mean, yes, yes there is food over here I think?" He is finally leaning down and helping her lift her freaking claws out of his foot. Shards! "This way, Ny..Nysaiwenyth." He tastes her name, fumbling briefly on it as his tongue refuses to fully cooperate.
Jaelynn grins over to Hierax. "Perhaps? But his lovely looking all the same." She offers with a slight nod and smiles to Kelani. "It is so different down here. They are sort of all over the place…" There is a pause at the green finding her lifemate and she gives Kelani's hand a squeeze back before looking back to the eggs.
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Tyssarian impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters. Instantly afterward, the starcrafter's fingers move to his lips, touching them briefly, rapidly leading into a clearing of his throat and a decided glance elsewhere. Nothing more needed to be said. Nothing more needed to be addressed. Well, except perhaps the sweat he'd found gathered beneath his nose like a dewy mustache. Oh for Faranth's sake, where was that refreshment cart? His mouth and throat were starting to feel like the driest part of Igen's desert. What? There wasn't one? The starcrafter sighs, resigned to his fate to be either a husk or a melted puddle by the end of things, casting his gaze back out of the hatching grounds.
Sing Brightly in the Dark Brown Hatchling lies on his back where he fell, wiggling his legs in the air with his wings spread to either side like some kind of strange oversized turtle. He hums as he does, joining with the adult dragons to welcome the baby dragons - which is to say, himself - into the world.
Zasheir shuffles from one foot to the other as his gaze sweeps the sands once more before trailing over the young dragons that continue forwards. Catching sight of an oddity, he blinks, "Did that egg…. just stand up??" Shaking his head, she looks back to candidates in time to hear Tys call out, his own congrats offered, "Go, Tyssarian! Congrats!!"
The Will Which Says Hold On Brown knows. The loud little brown bellows a tremendous little trumpet of pure triumph, head swinging back and forth. He's here! He's right — here! Somehow managing to coordinate all of his limbs, he makes a rush for the young man, still squealing tiny baby noises of glee. He almost makes it all the way there without disaster, too. At the very last second, the dragonet tries to avoid collision with the tall, curly-haired man, still bugling what has to be a laugh as they both go tumbling into the sand instead. Well, this works too.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the The Will Which Says Hold On Brown has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Beauty Lies Within Egg has been laying almost dormant after that initial shiver, as though once was enough for it. Quiet. Biding its time, until there is suddenly a mighty heave and a resounding *THUD* from the creature within as fissures radiate from the royal blue crown.
Nikolan is hardly interested in movement - photography is a still-life kind of art. But his gaze remains appreciative as it skips over the unImpressed green, lingering briefly before arrowing in on the blue. "Now he," he murmurs with satisfaction, "is going to make my camera very happy." Brown is forgotten as the fickle journeyman has found a new dragon to watch. Tyssarian's Impression would almost go unnoticed - but for the sound of that dragon's name. "Nysa-whatsit? There's too much going on," he mutters.
Eirykur's attention is back on Wyrichthea before too long, soft and short-lived laughter acknowledging her words. "Wytche it is." Rude. You know what else is rude? That side-eye he gives her. "She is somebodys lifemate — maybe even yours. For her sake, I certainly hope she picks somebody more interesting." And she did. "Congratulations!" for Tyssarian.
A Modern Man's Armor Blue Hatchling stands there, dripping egg-goop at those in attendance. He's a picture of the perfect calm before the storm — and by storm, we mean the flinging about of goop and fine egg-matter as he shakes his body and rids himself of mess. In every direction. Still, he finds a rather proper pose in which to lift his maw just so, affecting an air of one Untouched by his seconds-ago show of impropriety. There are candidates to inspect, and he takes that first step towards them.
Kera starts to step forward, but G'thar is already striding towards Xanadu's newest pair. "Nysaiwenyth? That's a fine name. Let's go get her fed. Follow me." The Weyrlingmaster gestures the new green weyrling to follow.
Ricki seems to relax a bit as the scariest of the hatchlings has safely impressed, and shouldn't cause any more issues. "I have no idea.." She murmurs about the name, even as she is following his gaze towards the blue, and then the wandering egg - no, wait, that is a dragon too. "You are going to have your work cut out for you, either way, with some of these.." She offers with a smile.
Beauty Lies Within Egg heaves once more, the dragon inside within working diligently at the initial point of impact. THUMP. THUNK. THWAP! And the top of the egg is no more, shattered into a million blue-and-yellow pieces as a snout emerges. There and gone, it vanishes back within the confines of that hardened shell. A moment of readiness, a little trembling along the shell, and then with a mighty KA-POW the egg splits in half as wings and limbs push against opposite sides. A startled cry announces the arrival of a new life, a tangle of limbs and tail and neck that has yet to sort itself out but is very much green, and very much here.
| A Rose Among the Thorns Green Hatchling |
| At first glance this dragon appears almost unremarkable, a creature of lean and lithe build, but with too-big wings and a too-long tail and a much-too-plain hide of standard emerald green. Though she carries herself well, all things considered, there's simply nothing to set her apart when viewed from a distance. Up close, however, now that is a different story - when one draws near, her finer features are more readily recognized, her face a bit on the long side, but well defined and almost regal in appearance. Subtly raised eyeridges and slanting headknobs lend an air of aristocratic beauty where otherwise she might have appeared plain. Her neck is long, thin, and deceptively graceful in its movements, if not in the standard, bookish bend one tends to develop from time spent gazing downwards. Though somehow dainty, her neckridges push from her spine in sharp arches, veritable thorns rising from the greenery of her hide - and make no mistake, such greenery abounds. It is subtle, nuanced as the rest of her, a shimmery golden-green pattern of leaves, and vines, and thorns, and roses much like those that originated upon her egg's shell, twisting in complicated turns, disrupting the crystalline emerald depths of her hide. They whorl over shoulders, curve about her forearms, embroider the edges of her wings and the long column of her spine before finally fading to mystic stardust along each marking's ornate edges. Streaks of a bolder aureolin hue rest about strong clavicles like a necklace, or perhaps more accurately, the sweeping debris of a shooting star that fixes itself perfectly in the hollow just above her hearts, a glimmering promise of a soul whose inner beauty outshines anything her hide could ever hope to portray. |
Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling slows that awkward-limbed trot, tilting her head as she slows along the scattered line of candidates who watch her like she watches them. It's an almost alarming attentiveness paid to each candidate in turn, a shying away when one after the other, she does not find the one most worthy of seeking worlds with her. No, not you, sweet little brunette, nor you, picture-taker, but good try though, giving her a second appraising glance like that. At least — wait. She almost walked too fast to pass him by. She turns back, tail clipping an anonymous candidate gently 'round the ankles as she moves to re-examine one she nearly overlooked in her haste. Yes. This! Her. This is the one that she will spend her forever with.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Shroud of the Truthseeker Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Hierax is trying to say that, too. His whistle for Tyssarian, a familiar face, is being drowned out by his mental processing of trying to say that name, so … "Ny-say-whe … okay. That's an … interesting name!" And then everything is going REALLY FAST, and OTHER people he knows and likes have Impressed, and the scary green is wrapping around someone else and he's going to hope that doesn't happen to him and — look, ANOTHER green. "Figures the headache clutch is all creepy looking greens," he whispers VERY SOFTLY, entirely to HIMSELF although Jaelynn might be able to hear him, because he doesn't want any of the people he likes who are now greenriders to actually HEAR that.
Rallexyre has not wet himself, and at this point, it's something of a miracle. The tiny lad does make a noise like an ignored teakettle when the big brown hatchling comes wandering through, and a little bit for the blue, but he's here. And only very, very sweaty. "I want my mom," The boy repeats to nobody in particular, wistful now. He looks briefly like he might like to chide a few of the other candidates for their sniping-based distractions, but. Well. That POW sends the boy onto his behind in the sands, crab-scuttling away. This seems like a good time for an escape, right?
Jaelynn pulls her gze away from one dragon to another as more start to find a lifemate one after another. A soft breath escapes her, a faint frown slides across her face at a thought before she glances up to Hierax and looks a bit amused. "I think they are all beautiful." OH YEAH she heard that.
Sing Brightly in the Dark Brown Hatchling finally decides that enough is enough, and rolls around onto his front to get his paws beneath him instead of above. There! A shake to get itchy sand off his hide - or at least attempt it, his success is rather mixed - before he bounces off toward the waiting audience of his candidates, still humming as he goes.
Zasheir was distracted by Tyssarian's impression that he missed the large brown coming towards him - though with the bugling that was going on, how exactly did he miss it? It's noisy down here on the sands! And so, when dragon goes colliding into him, down he goes into the sand, a startled laugh escaping him as he lands. Oof! But then comes the moment when he just stares at the large brown, a grin to appear, "It's okay, no apologies needed." Was that a groan that follows, "Yeah, I get it, Asceorth. You're hungry." Untangling himself from his new lifemate, he pushes himself up to his feet, leaning down to help the brown dragonet do the same, "Come on, they got some meat over there…" Walking to the sidelines, Z'eir is beaming widely. And looking a little dazed as he meets up with one of the weyrlingmasters.
Wyrichthea's mouth tenses, but manners outweigh her desire to argue. Instead of rising to the bait of her botched name or his chiding, she offers Eirykur a demure, vaguely-apologetic-sounding, "Fair enough. Though I do hope they avoid you, too. They have far too much class." And yet words have lost their snotty edge for now, eyes blinking rapidly for the invasion of so much noise as hatchlings begin to emerge and interact with a fervor and, "Yes," agreed breathlessly, following his lead. "H-have you done this before?" This to the remaining candidates at large, asking for expertise of which she has exactly none. Rallexyre is given a sympathetic look and, slowly, a hand to help him up and to hold if he wants it. "It'll be alright." Maybe. "Congrats," called to pairs swiftly matched, though perhaps lost in the din.
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Zasheir impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters. Wait, did he know that guy? Grey eyes are squinted and he leans forward a bit, trying to place his face, but in the end it's right back to pacing a bit back and forth. Vale would have to try and figure out later, once the dust had settled and things were less chaotic. Plus he was starting to think that standing still for too long was definitely going to be detrimental to his health or at the very least, his reputation. Vale could feel his robe starting to stick to places. STICK TO THEM! Discreetly he pulls at this and that and hopes to Faranth that no one noticed.
Kelani looks over to the brown struggling in her shells, leaning forward slightly. "You can do it.." She murmurs silent encouragement to it before looking back to the others roving along the group of candidates. There are glances given to those who gain the attention of those on the sands, mouthed congratulations. Then there is the egg of Beauty starting to crack and her gaze shifts to see what will reside within. "Well isn't she a beauty of the forest…" She murmurs and then looks down the line to see another impression made. A brown makes his choice.
A Rose Among the Thorns Green Hatchling needs to sort out this limbs situation. Tail… you go behind. Feet? You go to the ground. Wings? Just… stay out of the way! It's easier said than done, however. Slowly but surely, with carefully directed motions, things start to get organized. Her tail is gently nudged away with her nose, her paws find the sand and little talons flex to find grip. Her wings are sloooooowly folded away (first the right, then the left), until at long last, she's upright and ready. Now, to figure out this walking thing…
Ricki apparently will also have her hands full, for as the words are leaving her mouth, the photogenic green snuck nearer, and nearer, and while she was almost passed up, suddenly she is no longer alone. Stepping away from Niko slowly, she is reaching a hand to brush it over the freckled muzzle, silently staring at her. And then, she is moving to wrap an arm around the green's neck, leaning heavily into her. "Oh Iczobyth, we will see everything.. And we get you some food now.." She blinks a few times, turning to look for direction as she lingers next to her new life mate.
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Ricki impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters, then goes back to shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Anything to distract himself from the 'loss' of the girl he knew to the dragonrider she would someday now become. Would things be different? Would they remain the same? Would he still be able to coax her out to higher and higher locations in order to show her the stars that he knew? Only time would tell. But great Faranth's wingspan, it was hot out here. Pursing his lips together, he gives his head a jerk as to clear his thoughts, and focuses back on the current state of sandy affairs.
Hierax whistles again; this time it's for — Zasheir? Ricki? Both? — too much is definitely happening at once now. "Well, they're pretty, they're just also …" He's losing the ability to defend that particular stance, but then again, none of these people have met his mother and her murderous stunning green. "Did that one just shake like a canine?"
Jaune shouts aloud at Zasheir's good fortune! "Way to go! You did great!" Candidates have tough jobs too! Standing here, and not fainting from nervousness!
Eirykur slumps forward, catching Rallexyre under the arms to heft him back onto his feet because wait a minute when did he get there? But he's there, all gregarious smiles and messy man-buns that should be outlawed on these sands. "I'll be your mother, or the Wytche can be your mother, but you should probably not be down by where they maim." A sideways tilt of his head, and then a brow-raise for Wytche. "I have a live one for you." To, you know, sacrifice.
Nikolan gives a startled croak as the green approaches, staggering backwards as she interposes herself between him and his boon companion. "But - Ricki?" Catching himself, he stares at the pair for a long moment, before a broad, bright grin stretches his face. "Hah! I told you so!" Satisfaction radiates - moreso when he notes that the brown has caught himself a Zasheir, and his congratulations to that pair is added to the general din. Now. Where were the rest of those dragons?
Jaelynn smiles as she catches sight of the brown up on his paws. "There he goes." She says to Kelani before grining to Hierax. "Maybe… But Beauty is in theeye of the beholder yes?" As for each candidate that impresses she offers a soft calp to congrads for them, but her gaze drifts back to the dragonets that are still searching.
A Modern Man's Armor Blue Hatchling perhaps miscalculated those feet-things. He stumbles but does not fall, going still in lieu of a faceplant and all under the guise of pausing to watch those who watch him. He tilts his head to one side in a manner altogether curious, intent on those who stand on the sands in robes of white hoping that they will be the ones. He moves again, an uncanny lupine grace suddenly found that carries him forward and just out of reach for curious hands.
Sing Brightly in the Dark Brown Hatchling plots his course with assurance, because he knows exactly where he's going. A few nervous candidates scramble further away - and get a maw-gaped grin for their trouble - before he stops at the one who didn't run away, whose blue eyes will finally get a chance to meet his. Hii.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Sing Brightly In The Dark Brown Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Kera moves towards another new pair when the hatchling has chosen" Congratulations Weyrling. She's a nice looking green you have there. Let's get belly stuffed before she waste away." Kera grins to the Weyrling and gestures him to follow her.
Rallexyre hasn't managed to escape, hasn't wet himself, is very sweaty, and wants his mom. This is nearly all that he's managed to accomplish in the few minutes they've been on the scalding-hot sands, except for getting sand where sand just. Doesn't belong. At all. "Ow." The boy mutters, scuttling back upright on a look half-terrified and half-indignant for Eirykur. "Neither of you are my mom." He grumbles, looking like he actually considers that a zinger. He doesn't flee the sands, but it's only because he's dodging the second brown with a little noise of despair, glancing around anxiously.
Ricki carefully gets to her feet, leaving an arm looped over Iczobyth's shoulders as Kera appears to lead them away. A pause, and her eyes flick first to Vale, offering the younger boy a smile, and then to Niko, inclining her head. "See you soon, Niko.." She replies softly but with confidence, before a nudge from her life mate has her hurrying her steps. "Yes, yes.." She murmurs.
Nikolan has no pockets, so he can't shove his hands in them. His touchstone camera lay in his chest in the barracks, waiting safe and secure against his return. His best friend - his boon companion - his Ricki has been nipped away by a pretty little green ("Bye, Ricki… grats…")… he's just not really doing too well on the comforts department here. Unable to find a good position for his hands - clasped in front, clasped behind, at his sides, nothing works, the journeyman takes to pacing back and forth, a step to one side, a step to the other, watching the remaining hatchlings with rising anxiety.
Jaune observers closely as the candidate pool dwindles and they get paired off with the dragons. Even with the rani, the sand is still warm enough to keep from being cold. The Brown seems to have found someone, so Jaune keeps track of the Blue.
A Modern Man's Armor Blue Hatchling makes a round, perhaps enjoying the freedom inherent of breaking out of his prison shell, perhaps simply because he just wants to be sure that he's picking out the right person for him. Those whirling eyes fixate, that yet-to-be-big chest inflates with an attempt at confidence, and he strides forward, right into the chest of his picture-perfect forever.
Hierax is pretty sure he's free now, because he is DEFINITELY not Impressing a green — right? right?! — and the blue is almost too composed for him. And so he's relaxing considerably, even if he's still being RAINED ON and everything is TERRIBLE, because it's almost a safe show. Almost.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Modern Man's Armor Blue Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Kelani looks between the two remaining dragons but her attention remains cought on the green as she struggles to settle herself to standing. "You can do it.." She whispers under her breath not wanting to startle her. Then there is the approach of the brown so near and she looks to Jaelynn quickly releasing the dragonhealer's hand as well as the Istan on her other side so as to not interfere with things. When an impression is made, then another blue finds his lifemate her gaze turns to the remaining dragonet on the sands and the diminished group that surrounds them.
A Rose Among the Thorns Green Hatchling has those limbs in order and, after the first tentative step, seems to have this walking thing in order as well. Tedious and careful, one foot, then another, then the third, then the fourth… Slow and steady wins the race, right? Haste makes waste and all that. She'll get there eventually. Her snout is pointed in the direction of those white-robes, and her steps (slow as they might be) are on a straight-arrow path for them. Her destination is clear! It's just… you know. Getting there. Sometime today, preferably.
Wyrichthea's hand retreats as Eirykur stoops to fetch up Rallexyre instead, pointing a withering glare up at him for his smug, radiating… smugness. "Yeah," she says, with an upwards tilt of his chin. "We're not his mom." And yet… and yet it's short-lived, lip going between her teeth as she watches yet another dragon make its mate, leaving only a solitary green left on the sands. Hands smooth over her own arms, soothing despite heat as she clusters closer to her unlikely companions and adds, "Though I have to admit, I'm ready to go, too… Is that bad? That feels bad." Wince. She's a terrible candidate. Woe. She eyes Heirax for that relaxation, envy in her gaze because she's still nervous, but for once seems to have nothing else to add. For now.
Jaelynn is not one to normally try and escape, and no she stays right there blinking up at that dark brown thta is standing in of her and seems utterly clueless on what to say or do for a long moment. "Um… Hi…" Is said at first before letting go of Kelani's hand and is taking a half step back at the voice that is hitting her rather quick like. "Ta… Talanoath?" There is a pause as if questioning things. "Really?" She is more surprized then anyhting, A faint giggle escapes her at something and she reaches up to give that there brown a hug around the neck. "Nalilii? I like that." She offers beforenodding and is turning to move after others that have impressed with thta there brown following her. "Let's get you something to eat."
Rallexyre doesn't look…quite so ready to flee like there's a gaggle of spinners after him, anyhow, now that there aren't so many unImpressed dragonets wandering around. Or eggs unhatched. Are there any? It's hard to see from his position still hiding, anyways. "I bet there's cold water out there." And not just the kind falling from the skies, either. Although that can't hurt. "Go on, little green." Brave in the face of The End Drawing Near, Ral whispers a command, glances around nervously. She didn't hear that, right?
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Jaelynn impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters. She appeared nice enough the one time he'd had any interaction with her, but admittedly he'd been mostly asleep and Sephany had seemed awfully upset with her for some reason. Tilting his head a bit, he tries to recall the exact situation but was met with little more than fuzzy images and for some reason a hissing firelizard in his face. Huh, well that was weird. A trickle of sweat from the back of his neck rolling downwards past the upper most hem of his robe sends the starcrafter's back straight as if he had been called to attention. Grey eyes widen minutely and he moves his body this way and that to urge the droplet elsewhere, then focuses back on the sweltering sands.
Hierax is just smiling the smile of someone who is no longer really awake. Hatching feasts usually come with drinking, but he'll pass. He's all into naps right now. This last green is almost getting an affectionate smile from him, though; just because she's the last on the sands to make her choice.
Eirykur huffs a laugh. Or maybe he just expels amused breaths; whatever the case, he's offering a droll, "I said we could be, not that we were." And he guides Rallexyre toward Wyrichthea, and both of them towards Kelani and Hierax and Valerian (which might be a feat but NOBODY ASKED YOU). "So who gets the last one? Don't pick this one, little green. She'll curse you." A gentle shake of Wytche's shoulders.
G'thar is there to help Jaelyn and her new dragonmate "Congratinations Weyrling. Follow me and we'll get you both settled down. And her belly stuffed before you know it." The WLm grins and takes a few steps, pausing long enough to see that the new pair are indeed following.
Nikolan comes face to snout with destiny, his hands - those anxious, fidgity hands - automatically reaching out to catch and soothe, sliding along the cheeks of a wedge-shaped head. "I am certain a feast awaits us, Tsarziath." Laughter laces the words - a mixture of relief and joy, and the once-journeyman, now weyrling, gazes down upon his new blue lifemate. "I find I'm a bit hungry, myself." Shared pangs. "Shall we?" With quiet dignity - soon to pass, no doubt - he turns to lead his lifemate from the Sands.
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Nikolan impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters, then heaves out the heaviness of a sigh. Were things still uncomfortable between himself and the techcrafter? All Vale knew was that he hadn't seen much of the man since that night they had met, and in this one supposes things were not as unsettled as they might have first appeared. But, ugh, was it always this hot? Were his feet burning through the thick soles of his sandals? Sure as shell felt like it! Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, the starcrafter shifts his weight again and looks around at what might be happening just there in his immediate area and then beyond.
Kelani looks down the line once Jaelynn leads her brown away, taking up the hand of the Istan boy again. "Its ok, you are doing fine.." She murmurs to the youngest of the candidates. Her gaze shifts over to Eirykyr as he challenges the green and shakes her head a bit. Then over to Nikolan as he impresses, "oh congrats…" She calls out to him and the line gets smaller again. She looks over to Valerian and Jaune and mouths good luck to them before her gaze turns upon the forest green hatchling. That moment where her concerns are forgotten to see the creature head toward them on the sands.
A Rose Among the Thorns Green Hatchling is almost there! The end is in sight! She's closing in on those white-robed creatures with all the speed of a… well. A snail, really. But it's a careful, meticulous, totally-refusing-to-trip-on-my-own-feet snail. And then she is there, and the white-robes are here, and with a joyous cry of relief and delight, she's taking those final few steps to eliminate the distance between herself and the woman she'd been heading unerringly toward since the moment she got into motion. She lifts her head, whirling eyes going from distress to adoration as she gently touches her nose to the belly of her chosen human.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Rose Among the Thorns Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
Wyrichthea doesn't lay her hands on Eirykur's person for that 'witch' reference, but it looks for a second like it might be a near thing. Her chin cocks at a mutinous angle, hands fisting at her sides, small body filling with righteous indignation but, "Don't pick him or you'll have nothing but terrible smells filling your nostrils all your life. Not for nothing is he Reek," But then it's over. Shoulders release on a long, slow exhale, finally able to focus on something other than the wandering of hatchlings. "Tsarziath," she echoes of that dark blue's name. "That's actually kind of lovely." But she seems no less pleased that - as green snout touches to another girl's stomach - none of these were hers despite praise in the form of, "And congratulations to you, too - she is really pretty now that I'm not terrified. I prefer these things from the galleries, I think."
Kelani looks up to the approaching green dragonet with a look of anticipation upon her face. Fears of 'what will happen to her craft' forgotten. Did she realize how much she connected with this egg? Were there dreams of the dance and the garden? Perhaps. Then there is the touch and Kelani blinks before kneeling down before her. "Rosalyth? Yes…so I am Lani now? Yes I like it…yeah, we can eat. I missed dinner as well." Yes the world is forgotten in that moment, all those fears and concerns. Just her and her dragon. The light of the cavern shining off the tears glistening in her eyes.
The last dragon has tumbled from its shell, the last hopeful has found its match on these sands, in this time, and Risali's joy dims, quiets to something not quite sympathetic, but certainly empathetic as grey eyes take in each person remaining in white. She opens her mouth to speak, but it's Leirith who interjects with, « DO NOT BE DISAPPOINTED, MINIONS! » That maw gapes, that massive head tilts, and she comes forward to place herself within reach of hands, lowering her head to the ground once more. « TODAY WAS FOR OTHERS, BUT THERE WILL BE A TOMORROW, AND ONE OF THOSE TOMORROWS MIGHT EVEN BE FOR YOU. » It's unerringly gentle, carried on the whispered hints of spun sugar and funnelcake — perhaps distorted for the sheer fact that this queen's mind belongs to another. And Risali's stepping forward from behind her, running fingers along headknobs and eye ridges as another smile comes void of humor, full of something else that remains in her eyes even as the attempt at reassurance in facial expression dissipates. "Xanadu Weyr thanks you — for everything. For your time, for your courage, for you. We've enjoyed watching you all grow, and we know that you all have lives to get back to, but we hope that you will stay for the feast. We also understand if you need some time." And then, in tandem, queen and her rider both dip into bows — a return of all that respect that was shown them over the duration of this candidacy. They hold it for one, two, three moments, and finally Risali rises from the bow with an upturn of her face first. "It's been an honor. We can leave this way." And there she goes, apparently of a mind to escort people in one last show of camaraderie to the exit of the arena.
Valerian calls over his congratulations as Kelani impresses, watching the pair move off to the waiting weyrlingmasters. He shoots her a particularly wolfy grin, giving her a mighty big 'thumbs up' with the very thumb he still had in place due to her knowledgeable and dedicated ministrations. He could still fetch and carry, climb up high, and got to stay a candidate thanks to that healery type right there. So good on ya mate! But oh, what's that? A quick side-glance for movement out of the corner his eyes, turned out to be another fidgety sort like he, and so Vale relaxes once again and practices his side to side sway of trying to keep one foot less pressed to hot sand than the other and back again. Probably best to pay more attention to what was going on around him though, and he does that.
Hierax actually loses some of that relaxation as he comes to his senses from the chill of the rain — all the dragons have Impressed. He's both free and not free; back to the work of his beloved craft, stuck listening to the shame radiating from his parents if they're actually present, and he might actually get that nap. He's got to be awake enough to process, though, and the sort of surreal quality of the sands have faded. Even with Leirith's, er, polite feedback. "Really if I'm going to ever stand again, it'd probably be for you again," he tells the proud queen with a laugh and a grin. She's been an experience. And then he makes his escape — to get some rest before facing the spectre of Parents.
With all eggs reduced to bits of discarded shell, all dragonets impressed, Valerian finds that he is among those left behind. The look on his face is hard to read, an odd mix, making it difficult to tell whether he is upset or relieved that there was no lifemate to call his own. As that speech is given, the same one that always is at the end of every successful hatching, Vale remains uncharacteristically silent and stoic throughout, seemingly immobile. However, the moment that it is over, he exhales a breath he might very well have been holding the entire time. A nod, only once, and he turns to walk off the sands for the last time. Straightening his shoulders, he keeps his head held high and his expression was one of fierce determination.
Wyrichthea makes a soft 'awh' noise for the vision of tears in former-Kelani's eyes, hand pressing to her chest, "I think she was crying, oh no. How sweet." There's a look for Eirykur, as though to say 'at least some of us have an emotional capacity larger than a teaspoon' before her gaze lingers on Risali and somewhat-wincingly on Leirith. "It was my pleasure," she says with a bow to match, her own eyes glittering with relief as she flees the sands to find something more respectable to wear in time for the feast to follow.