Egg-Cellent Suggestions

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.

To say that egg touchings for the three eggs of Inasyth and Glorioth's clutch are exhausting would be understating things. There have been instances where the clutchsire has chased candidates from the sands, leading to his being allowed to go hunt and kill whatever 'allowable' prey, in whatever quantity, that he comes across in the forests. (DON'T WORRY, HE'LL BRING THEM BACK TO MAKE THE SANDS STICKY-BLOODY, lest his mate go hungry.) It's almost the only thing that will convince him off the sands. Watching the assistant weyrlingmaster herding the slowest of the candidates out into the foyer and leaving the arena quiet - the observation level distant enough to not presently be a concern - F'yr can finally take off his benign smile that tries (and fails) to make up for the demeanor of his lifemate as clutchsire, and he stretches tall only to let all of him sort of fall at once back into the usual upright position before he's heading to go find the drinks and have them ready as soon as Rhodelia has seen to her chronically excited lifemate. It's a celebration! No one died today! Hooray!

It's a good thing that Glorioth has been SO ENTHUSIASTIC about hunting for Inasyth because as the eggs keep getting harder it's been rarer and rarer that the gold has been willing to leave her clutch. Today she barely even wanted to let the candidates leave the touching least the eggs get lonely, but the Weyrlingmasters had concerns over silly little things like heat exhaustion for some reason. Once the class is gone, she's curled up around her precious little baby-kins making disgustingly cute mutters of baby talk to the eggs until she (thankfully quickly) falls asleep. Rhodelia definitely needs that drink as she retreats, she'll grab and toast in a well practiced motion as she slinks into her seat with a long "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh…."

Ahhhhhhhhhh, indeed. F'yr's toast and long few swallows (it may be noted that he's been a little buzzed a lot lately, but that's fine, right?) couldn't be more fervently aligned with Rhodelia in that moment. What might be slightly contrary to her current plans, especially given the rampant heat of the hatching caverns is the way he sets his drink aside and then sliiiides himself over to her, slipping an arm around her, sort of gathering her against him unless she has stringent (or mild) objections. It's not exactly PDA because WORSE THINGS HAPPEN IN THE OFFICE, but listen, evidently the bronzerider is in need of just this little bit of contact, his head angling to touch against the side of hers as he gives a little squeeze of her shoulders. "Soon." The eggs. The hatching. NOT THAT SOON, F'YR, but he can dream. "I've had a request I thought you and Ina could help me with." But since he's waited until Inasyth is asleep to pitch it, he obviously wants Rhody to have the option to refuse. "I met an illustrator who's posted here, could probably make you a poster for your barn," COUGH, that's neither here nor there, F'yr, "but he'd like to look at the eggs." This seems normal enough, but, "He's a friend of Shiloh's. Shiloh's the one that—" well, Rhody heard that story already, so he trails off. "It is safe." Of course it is. "But I thought we might make a little extra effort for them to feel comfortable after-" Glorioth was SUPER RUDE.

Rhodelia half mumbles a sort of protest just against the heat as F'yr sliiiiides himself on over, but her hand reaches out to pull him closer in case there were any doubt of her actually welcoming his presence. Her head tilts at the mention of request and she shifts a little so she can get a better look at the bronzerider as he pitches. "What's up?" She nods along through his little spiel. "Are you saying my barn needs some interior decorating help?" She can't even keep a straight face as she says it. The barn could DEFINITELY use some sprucing up. "What's your idea of a little extra effort? I mean, Inasyth could literally sit on Glorioth, but I think that might make matters worse…"

"I'm saying he's an excellent artist and some of his work looks like your book covers." F'yr says this deadpan, dry tone. He is laughing at Rhodelia right now, without even making a sound. His eyes are practically twinkling down at her. "I was thinking we might be able to time it so that Glorioth is asleep." Those stretches are more certain than when he's gone because sometimes Glorioth is unexpectedly EFFICIENT in his MASS SLAUGHTERING. "Ina could sit on him if he wakes up, but I was thinking more just that you and I could bring them into the galleries. Maybe Inasyth would consent to moving the eggs nearer for the day," even if that will make Glorioth twitchy BEFORE he falls asleep. "You and I know they're safe, but the point is to make them feel it. Shiloh's probably going to be…" He makes a helpless gesture. Who can blame Shiloh after what he went through?

"Ooooh, are you gonna be a model for him?" Rhodelia gives a ridiculous eyebrow waggle as she laughs right at F'yr's deadpanning face. Once she catches her breath and a little bit of composure, she gives a nod. "We can do it. Will be a welcome break to the routine." Day in, day out, Rhody might have lost track of how many days its been and that was before she started on the post-touching drink. "Glorioth hasn't like.. felt they'd be good for the clutches or something? Seems like he's more concerned with foe-villans than possibly finding candidates that meet his own standards…"

"Don't enough of those covers look like me without my having modeled for them?" F'yr returns question for question. "I really can do with less of that kind of attention, not more." Given that he still does not grasp flirtations, what he must mean is those attentions that move beyond words to touching. Ever since Glorioth had his winning streak with the greens, the poor bronzerider has developed something of an aversion to the touch of strangers. Friends… he's still as touchy as he ever was, as demonstrated by the fact that he's rubbing his fingers idly across her lower thigh, hard enough not to be ticklish, but probably something that would be better as a shoulder massage, if he wasn't still keeping her tucked against him, despite the heat. "No, he's not interested in finding candidates. Yet. I do think I'm talking him round to thinking of them as worthy challengers instead of possible foe-villains. It's just…" He sighs, "A process." Isn't everything that one wishes Glori to retain? "I'm not even so much worried about this clutch with him," the clutch of three, sure, but he's speaking in particular of Glori's parenting skillz (or lack thereof), "but what if he doesn't remember if there's ever another time? Am I going to have to… do it all again?" SOB. Okay, he doesn't cry, but he sure sounds stressed.

Rhodelia flops back in her seat with a disappointed sigh. "Spoilsport. What if I commission him to make a poster of you? And hang it in the office? Right behind R'hyn's desk? Or in front of it?" she taps her fingers on the chair edge as she thinks of the possiblities. As F'yr shares his own concerns she reaches over to pat his knee. "I don't think Inasyth will surprise me again. So if you don't want to try and deal with it… at least with her… you could figure out somewhere else to be?"

"Ila, maybe." F'yr supposes, amusement in his voice. "But make it the right size to glue to the bottom of his desk drawer. If he can see Ila in all his glory," and yes, //F'yr will own that joke with a WAGGLE of his eyebrows down at Rhodelia, "it's time to go find the man himself and get some rest." Rest is surely what they'd be doing after seeing such images, right? Right. Don't think too hard about that; cacti have eye-poking spines, you know. All that levity, and then… well, it probably needs to be discussed at some point. F'yr's head tips to lean on Rhody's for a long moment. "I'm worried there were only three because of him. Well, him and her, you know. Siblings. All that." And those three… inbred much? "I want what's best for the Weyr. I'm just not sure whether that's also what's best for you. Is it? Do you think I should try to keep him away next time?"

Rhodelia snorts into her glass but doesn't party foul, she's got more skillz than that! "You can try to get him to model. I'll bring popcorn and watch." She does value her own appendages after all, but willing to risk being in spectator-zone. There's a sigh for the concern. "I… right. But other dragons have also been siblings and had normal sized clutches so maybe it is really just because they were uhhh… inexperienced. And I can't tell you what to do… and I don't want my tastes to hamper her tastes unless it really is something that would be disasterous for the Weyr… I do greatly prefer you to the creepy High Reaches guy that had been hanging around for sevens…"

There's a silence in which F'yr takes all these things, perhaps even that thing about convincing Ila'den to model for a pin-up tasteful nude for his boss (nothing weird about that, right?), and lets them roll around in his herdbeast brain. The quiet might be daunting but for the fact that he is still very much there, his physical presence filling in where there are no words. After some time, he just nods. "I'll be there. We will, that is. If the next time he catches her," since there probably(?) will be a next time within their lifetime given the way the two tend to get along, "the same thing happens, we can see about making sure that he's not there when she rises." Reasonable, right? Finally, he'll separate from her, after one more squeeze but only because he's looking up at the sky. "Blood." Incoming. Duck and cover. NO, HE'S NOT THAT BAD, he'll just leave the thing to heat-rot for his mate when she wakes (unless F'yr can convince him this is a bad idea). … RIP clean air.

Rhodelia doesn't really have words for a moment, but that really shouldn't matter when she leans her head into him, clinging a little bit. "We'll just have to wait and see. Could be some other bronze tickles her fancy the next time." She gives a shrug and then… DEATH FROM ABOVE. Not actual death, but definitely a dead thing as Glorioth returns with Dinner. So helpful. Rhodelia wrinkles her nose and abandons her seat, but not without saving her drink. "I think… it's time for actual food. Treetop food. You coming?"

There's hesitation from F'yr, if only because his leaving the sands while his dragon is here and awake can get chancy, especially with Inasyth asleep, but after a long pause looking at his dragon he slowly nods. "Yes, I think so." Tonight, at least. Maybe they can just steal tonight. Play hooky like in bygone days (with new perks, like their own places to retreat to). Get a little breathing room while their dragons (MUST EVENTUALLY, PLEASE) sleep. A few hours of personal sanity and care before they inevitably must return.

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