An Education in Eggs

Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separated from the multicolored red and white sands by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher than the previous, and they are broken up into sections by three sets of staircases. Between the first and second section, a glass wall descends to separate the observers from the heat of the sands. Air is kept in motion through a set of fans, and so these seats are quieter and cooler than the rest… though the noise and heat of the sands is still present.

Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony overhead connects to the glass wall. Vents for cooling run along the bottom of it, and the ledge provides a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.

The sand below is variegated in hue, individual grains of red and white that have a pinkish hue when seen from across the circle of the hatching grounds but - up close over that railing - are clearly two varieties mingled.

XANADU: Weyr of anarchy. A place without rules. Without filing systems. Who even needs a calendar? NOT GLORIOTH, that's for sure. So scheduling a "safe" time to come look at the trio of eggs getting steadily harder on the hatching sands guarded by enthusiastic dam and overzealous sire is less an appointment as much as it is an intention that depends much on luck and a solid sense of timing. That's why F'yr arrived at a jog to the stable to collect Shiloh just before lunch on this particular day. It was just good fortune that Averil happened to be there to. Explaining that it was time to seize the moment was done swiftly and the trip back taken at as quick a pace as the shortest of them (AVERIL) could manage. A little area in the front of the observation level has been set up for the purpose. Alas that this section lacks the fans of the further away parts, but what it lacks in cooler air is made up for by the fact that the three eggs have been purposefully reposition close to the rail of the observation level with dam in attendance as F'yr ushers his hostages guests into the tiny party just for them.

Never fear! Even though Glorioth might be absent, the eggs are definitely not left unattended, but Inasyth is in her usual high spirits as she futz about the tiny clutch, making sure the sand is coiled around her precious babies just right as the tawny gold practically hums with excitement. Once she's got everything SETTLED (at least for the moment), she takes a few steps back and flops where she can see everything. Rhodelia is already in the observation level, looking so thrilled about the party. She's even got a shiny pink party hat on as well.

Xanadu. A place without rules or filing systems or (apparently) calendars and yet… there is Shiloh, attempting to institute all three. At least in his little corner of the Weyr, aka the Stables. Does it work? Probably not. Does he go with the flow? Usually. Does he look really awkward when F'yr busts in?? Absolutely. Because maybe he hasn't told Avi about this little adventure yet but oh well, no time like the present! And of course it's explained on the way because there's no time to lose and hauling Avi over his shoulder is probably not heroic or gentleman-ly. By the time they reach that auspicious location, the beastcrafter's looking a little tense (even if there is no bronze to be seen) but game enough walk into the dragon's maw hatching arena. Or at least the observation level. "Oh." That could be surprise! It could be gratitude! It could be any number of things, really. Because Shiloh did not expect it to be so very… planned. But instead he'll just say, "Thank you." Because that's the polite thing to do.

Averil is, without a doubt, the shortest of the three. He knows. They know it. Everyone with EYES knows it. Fortunately, he has had a lifetime to get used to it, and really? He makes being smaller then most work for him. STILL! STILL! And this is important! He was not informed that this was happening, AT ALL. So the massive bronzerider charging into the stable to disturb their tranquility comes as more then a bit of a surprise. That it is all GO! GO! GO! RUN! ? Well, that definately has him back on his heels and not entirely certain that Go, Go Go'ing in the same direction of someone acting like a CRAZY MAN is a really good idea. That the whole business is explained on the run? Well, it is a fair bet that artist only hears maybe a third of that over his own HUFFING (Running is not something Averil is accustomed to under the best circumstances). He's not hauled or hoisted— a blessing really. But he /is/ bracing his hands on his knees the moment they stop the headlong flight, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Breathing might be a bit of an over-stating since try as he might? Air is being particularly contrary about getting into his lungs. Still, he's got it and nods quickly to echo Shiloh's thanks, one hand leaving his knees long enough to give an airy wave before gesturing toward Shiloh in a 'what-he-said' motion.

If F'yr's lips twitch a little in amusement for the mannerly response from Shiloh, he can perhaps be forgiven since he carries those good manners forward as he moves to join Rhodelia. "Rhody, this is Shiloh and his friend Averil." A gesture is given between the men. "This is Inasyth and her beautiful clutch," the three, just three, eggs. "Shiloh, Averil, Rhodelia and Ina." There. His job is done. Right? Glorioth gone, check. Artist and friend in observation level, check. "We asked Ina to bring the eggs closer so you could get a better look, Averil. Rhodelia's a big fan of your art. Well, art like yours." Don't mind that too innocent smile as he looks at the men, not at Rhodelia-the-romance-reader. He gives a glance to Shiloh after that, though, that shades a little more serious and a silent broly inquiry is sent via eyebrow, 'Everything alright?' with a slide of blue eyes toward the slender illustrator to indicate the subject of that particular inquiry.

"I drew the line at party horns, but Inasyth says that you're both very welcome to look at her eggs," Rhody greets the men with a smile, even if there may be the sound of popping champagne bubbles echoing softly behind her words. The gold is at least mostly behaving and keeping her massive bulk a safe distance away, although she's not looking away from the cluster of people for even a second. Rhodelia raises an eyebrow as F'yr handles the introductions include mentioning being fan of art she hasn't actually seen yet, though probably true. Along with the eggs, there's also a small table set up with extra party hats and some light refreshments. Mostly cookies, because who doesn't love cookies?

"Ma'am." He can't help it. It's how he was raised! But at least Shiloh will take correction well enough, should it come. Though, there's another, "Ma'am," for Inasyth, too, with a tip of his hat in her direction. "Appreciate your time and consideration," which is really for both Rhody and Ina. "You didn't have to do that." But he's very glad they did. The party horns? Well. He probably appreciates the lack of those, too, but he will be a good sport and shuffle over to pick up a party hat for himself and Averil, cowboy-hat exchanged for something shiny and hopefully not pink. A breath. A glance toward the door (though it's not an exit he's looking for, so much as waiting for the hammer Glorioth to fall) and then the dragonriders. But at least the broly inquiry has his attention turning, a glance at Averil before a twitch of a half-smile that ought to say 'all good'. Or at least convey that things are not bad. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," is offered to Averil, along with the hat that's carefully placed atop his head. "I thought… it would happen a bit differently." HOW DID HE THINK IT WOULD HAPPEN?? Shiloh doesn't know.

Averil gasps and finally straightens, everything clicking at once as pale grey eyes flick from Shiloh to F'yr to Rhodelia to Inasyth. "Oh." Which is promptly followed by a more breathy "/Oh/." as he steps closer and rests his hands on the railing. "She is beautiful," is whispered as his gaze flickers over the dragon so pointedly keeping her distance. The statement is promptly followed with him reaching for his satchel and the art supplies within before abruptly remembering his manners. "Thank you," he offers to the doting mother on the sands. Resisting the urge to pull out his sketchpad, he steps away from the railing, his gaze sweeping over to Shiloh to stare for a long moment before he's flashing a bright smile. "You never said a word about this," he chides. Which is promptly followed with a even more polite bob of his head to Rhodelia. "Thank you, weyrwoman, I've been wanting to draw the eggs, if," he adds. "That would be alright?" And, of course, he adds. "Thank you for arranging this, F'yr." It was kind, even if he is pretty sure his lungs are somewhere on the ground between here and the stables. Course, then there are party hats being passed out and really? Averil is more then happy to put it on, pink or not. Although, he is a fan of pink. It's the apology that has him stepping over to take Shiloh's arm, his head giving a quick shake as he glances toward the tawny hued queen. "It's perfect. She's perfect. I think I'm short a lung from the run," but he's still finger twitching for his satchel. It is only belatedly that his gaze sweeps back to Rhodelia. "You read romance novels?"

That stare? That deadpan stare? That one on F'yr's face. It's for Shiloh and his manners. "We're going to need to have a talk, Shiloh." Sounds serious. But not without some booze, apparently, because what's a party without booze? He turns to the table and is reaching for a glass and a wineskin to fill it. "She makes me read them when she's finished with them." 'Makes him' and probably it's only once in a while, but apparently the remark, lofted in a playfully agrieved tone must be made as he glances back in the goldrider's direction, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. "We should make the most of the time we have, if you want to miss Glorioth." Because he will be back, that implies, and probably not in all that long. Along with his wine, F'yr is turning back to the group with a small ceramic pot he claimed from the table top, which he seems content to hug against his chest as he moves to settle into a front row seat and get comfortable.

The grabbing of the hats gets a croon of approval from Inasyth, which might sound ominous to the unfamiliar, but Rhodelia seems perfectly relaxed as she sinks back into her seat and grabs her drink again. "Rhody, please. Weyrwoman's so formal, save that for addressing Risali." There's a twinkle of mischief in the goldrider's eyes at that, but she really has been rather confined in possible shenanigan opportunities with the whole sands-sitting thing. "And really, we did a whole lot less than you think. Normally Ina'll try and break out banners and a whole six course meal. And the eggs have to be repositioned regularly anyways. But she, err… we, would definitely appreciate a sketch of the eggs. When you have time. And she says thank you." The draconic thanks comes even with the lightest wave of golden bubbles to the mind, but at least she's considerate enough to not be yelling directly into their heads. She saves that for Rhody's head only for the moment, distracting enough that she just blinks at Averil's last question. "I uhhh.. do. Sometimes?" IGNORE THE STACK OF BOOKS SHE HAS HIDDEN SOMEWHERE IN THE SANDS CAVERN. And the crumpled up napkin that she sends F'yr-wards when he suggests the reading was forced. "Hey, I'm pretty sure there were a couple you took before I even got finished reading them!"

What's wrong with manners, F'yr?! Shiloh certainly looks perplexed (or wary. Probably wary.) about that talk they're gonna be having. But at least he can take direction and offer a polite, "Rhody, then," in return for the correction. See?! He listens. A grounding breath and, helping himself to his own wine before sliding toward a seat. The eggs are still in decent view, but he's also not the one with the sketchbook. Champagne bubbles might get another, longer look at the queen but honestly… Shiloh does remember Inasyth as being the nice one in that unfortunate first-meeting of the dragons. And while Averil (presumably) gets to sketching, he'll offer that, "Avi's an illustrator and has done a lot of cover-art for romance books," to perhaps help explain things.

Averil can't help smiling as he watches the pair, a quiet chuckle spilling past his lips. "It's my favorite," he admits as he steps over to perch on the bench without wine. "Although I do portraits, and occassionally technical manuals." That he hates that last one? Clear in the grimace that traces over his lips as he pulls out a pad and a small tin of charcoal. "I've got the latest book in the 'Renegade Hearts' series in my room to work on now." Course, he has the grace to look a bit sheepish at that announcement since the series is one of the more 'steamy' one currently running. "Need to find the perfect face and body for the latest 'villian', though." Always hard, particularly since they are written to be impossibly sexy. Even as he speaks, though, he's blocking out a sketch of Inasyth and her eggs. "Pity the sire isn't here," he murmurs. "I would have liked to get him in the portrait, as well."

That subtle shift of F'yr in his seat that makes him look just a little uncomfortable as Averil wishes for the one not present on purpose? It's probably fine. It's not like he's saying code words to abort to his fellow conspirators or anything. They have time yet. Hopefully it's enough. What kind of new bro would he be if he didn't give Shiloh a brisk tick-tock of a 'NO' to using 'weyrwoman' on Risali. He glances to Rhody the look without censure but without apology for impacting her wicked ways. Maybe it's because he might feel like he sort of owes Shiloh for Glorioth's EXCEPTIONALLY CLEVER TRAP and all that. "Shiloh, we have something for you." Although Rhody probably knew what F'yr had procured somewhere for the cowboy, he may have neglected that he was going to hitch her pony to his cart in the presentation. He shifts the pot around in one hand (and it is a handful!) and lofts it up a little toward the Beastcrafter. "To expand your education." That doesn't sound ominous, right? "If nothing else, there are a lot of faces for inspiration in a place like Xanadu." He probably just means that there are a lot of them, not that they're all so pretty (although…). "Where were you posted before coming here, Averil?"

Inasyth's eyes whirl a very merry blue, still thankfully very much over there, even if her tail is swishing a bit in excitement. Rhodelia leans forward a bit when the harper reveals his latest project. "Oooooooh?" She is definitely familiar with the series and he definitely has her attention now. "And we have a couple villanious bronzeriders lurking around you might be able to snag if you're real convincing…" She gives a shrug. And then F'yr's moving on to business and she's giving an enthusiastic nod along with this plan.

There's a deadpan look and a flat, "No," from Shiloh on that 'pity' business. Apparently, despite his harrowing tale of near death at the hand (tooth? claw?) of the glorious Glorioth, the warning has yet to take hold in young Averil. And so Shiloh will just be his sanity for him, and put a proverbial foot-down on the wishing for the bronze's appearance. But really, while he might side-eye the artist (and then the door) somewhat hard for that wistful-wishing, he simply sips his wine and accepts his (current) fate. And then perhaps his future fate, when F'yr so casually mentions educational gifts. There's more than a little hesitation in the beastcrafter before, after carefully setting his wine aside, Shiloh accepts that pot. But it's a hesitant, "What is it?" that comes rather than the 'thank you' that should come. And maybe there's a little side-eye for the enthusiasm of that nodding, but hey. Shiloh's already taken it and he's not rude enough to give it back before knowing what it is. And after a beat. Two. Three. Maybe four comes a polite, "Thank you."

Averil is listening even if the majority of his attention is on the sketchbook resting on his knees. "Harper Hall," he admits. "Because of my specialty I don't really need to be in a specific place." He can draw sexy pictures of beefy men and bodice ripping beauties pretty much anywhere. It's Rhody's 'Oooooh' that has him glancing up and smiling, pale grey eyes crinkling at the corners. "It is /very/ good. But much more… graphic then the others in the series." At the mention of snagging bronzeriders, he dips his chin in a nod, his attention going back to the sketch as he starts adding in detail to the blocking. "I've got a few decent candidates just from sitting in the living cavern," he admits. Course, the mention of a gift has his head turning, the pot regarded with a curious look before his gaze flicks up to F'yr. Course, his eyes flick straight to Shiloh at the 'No', his lips twitching in a wry smile.

"An egg. You're a Beastcrafter. Take care of it. Warm but not too hot. Turn it regularly if you're exposing it to heat." Like the eggs on the sands, how about that coincidence? F'yr sounds entirely casual in delivering this edict suggestion. "Be ready to feed what comes out." Sounds simple enough, right? Right. It's fine. It's not until his eyes drift out over the sands that he adds, "You'll need oil after that." So there's at least a pretty solid clue as to what kind of egg F'yr hopes expects the pot contains. Now that he doesn't have the pot, he wraps both hands around his glass. No returns, exchanges or refunds. "I think we probably have about another half hour before he returns," he offers to any and all concerned parties. Of course, he's been surprised before. "Will that be enough time for a first trip, Averil? I was thinking I'd like to introduce you to him away from here so you'd be better able," but not always lalala, "to come and go without feeling intimidated by his…" HOW DO YOU SAY THAT NICELY, F'YR? "…instincts." He's not looking at anyone but Inasyth as he speaks those words, though, not even Rhodelia. It's probably also why he tacks on, "Are you going to make me read these ones too?" To be fair, he only steals the ones she's not finished with yet if she can't stop talking about them, because then he has some idea what she's talking about … he's listening, honest….

"You say that like it's a bad thing…" Rhodelia grins and is still very much intrigued by this although she won't pry much more into that seeing as she knows how short the window of drawing might be given Glorioth's habits. "Enjoy your egg, Shiloh." She gives a grin towards the beastcrafter before she gets up. "Now, I think it's time I make the regular snack replenishment run to the caverns. Somebody managed to get a request in for a cake somehow." There's a bit of a glare towards the gold contentedly humming away out on the sands, but the smile means she must not be too upset about the whole deal. There's a snort for F'yr. "Like I MAKE you do anything…" With this, she gives a wave and is heading out.

F'yr might be looking at Inasyth but Shiloh's just gonna keep squinting at F'yr. Taking it all in. Maybe casting dubious looks at the gift he's been given. But at least what comes out of his mouth is a flat, "What kind of oil?" because apparently, he's decided to accept this challenge. "I've got leather oil for the tack. Does it need to be something else?" How many different oils might there be?! Who knows, but Shiloh's just gonna make sure whatever hatches isn't instantly poisoned by the wrong oil being applied. "Thank you again, Rhody," comes with the weyrwoman's retreat, a tip of his head offered in lieu of a tip of the hat because… well. His hands are kinda full and he's wearing a shiny party-hat at the moment. It's definitely a look. And yes, there's a curious little tip of the pot lid in an attempt to get a peek at this mysterious egg, even if Shiloh won't do much digging JUST IN CASE.

Averil tilts his head as he peeks at the pot, his lips twitching in a quiet smile. "That's a wonderful gift, F'yr. Rhody." Of course, he KNOWS Shiloh will be a fantastic firelizard father, that is also clear from the warmth in his gaze as he glances back at Shiloh and smiles. It's as he turns back to his sketch and adds a few quick details that he notes. "That is more then enough time," to F'yr. "I remember the things I see shockingly well." It's Rhody's point that has him laughing, a smear of charcoal gracing his cheek as he brushes golden hair out of his eyes. "Not a bad thing, just not the sort of thing you want to read in a group." Or maybe you do, he's not about to judge. It's F'yr's thoughts about meeting Glorioth that has him nodding lightly. "Whenever is convenient." He has no intention of leaving Xanadu if he can help it. "You can usually find me in the stables." Cause he has made himself more then comfortable there of late. Course, he does catch Shiloh's cautious look into the pot and cannot help a quiet laugh. "It's not going to leap out and bite your nose."

F'yr's low laugh about SOME— INASYTH'S managing to order a cake for the party accompanies his warm look following Rhody as she goes. Doubtless, he'll see her again soon. At least the sands stir craziness doesn't have to do with spending so much time with Rhodelia … today. Tomorrow there may be water wars. WHO CAN SAY. "I see," has so many layers to the two simple words as F'yr replies to Averil's comment about his memory. Blue gaze glides lazily over to Shiloh and his peek inside the pot. He remembers things he sees shockingly well, Shiloh. Shiloh. But the humor is contained behind the press of lips together not letting any of the bronzerider's own unfiltered commentary slip out. "Rhody got me started on one during candidacy because I was trying to sort what flirting is." He thinks that's why, if he's even remembering right. "I can't say it really helped with that, but it did give me a whole new set of questions." Like why any of those idiots do any of the things they do in those sorts of stories. Evidently the talk about manners won't be now. Maybe that needs more alcohol? "I don't imagine the leather oil would harm them, but it might not be the best type. If you ask for some in the stores, they'll be able to get you what you need. Just make sure you tell them it's for a firelizard, not a dragon or you'll have a lifetime supply." Imagine how much oil it takes to do one Inasyth.

Shiloh? PEEKING IN THE POT!! DEFINITELY NOT CATCHING THOSE SIDE-EYES ABOUT THINGS THAT AVI MAY OR (DEFINITELY) MAY NOT HAVE SEEN! Are his cheeks pink? Definitely because of the heat. Ahem-ahem cough-cough. "I know that," comes with a snort for the artist, though it's tempered by the quirk of lips into crooked smiles that speaks so much more than the words. "But F'yr said to keep it warm." So he's not gonna open the lid and let all the heat out! Never mind they are probably in the hottest place in the Weyr. Pot secure once again, he sets it down at his feet and puts his (cowboy) hat on it, all the better to not forget it, and settles himself down to watch Avi and the Eggs. Or just Avi, because really the eggs don't do much. "Will do," for asking after oil. Shiloh would rather not give up his leather-oil for an egg, anyways. He'll also happily (if somewhat awkwardly?) skip over discussion of romance books because he might not have read any or at least isn't willing to admit if he has.

Averil exhales a quiet laugh as he blows on the sketch before leaning in to lightly bump shoulders with Shiloh. And yes, he may have only caught a fleeting look, but it was enough to provide more then ample fodder to fill a multitude of sketchbooks. AHEM. Stil, he's slanting an adoring smile for Shiloh's 'I know that', a quiet laughing humming in his throat as he makes a few notes about the colors of the eggs and Inasyth's coloring. "Can they eat jerky," he asks curiously. "Or should he try to keep raw meat on hand?" Cause keeping raw meat from spoiling in the stables might be something to consider.

These are all fair questions, really. Entirely. It's not anyone's fault, per se, that the resulting attempt to answer by the bronzerider results in a WAYWARD THOUGHT. This wayward thought, however, has a very IMMEDIATE and REAL consequence. It's the fire-kissed gold that pops into being RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEIR FACES/, screeches like the terrify SWORD GOLD OF FIGHTING that she is and immediately pops back out leaving only the intense contrast of the cold of between in her wake. F'yr's mouth had been opened to answer the question and it hangs there a moment because, listen, he tries //really hard not to lose this particular game - the one where he accidentally thinks about Triumph and she APPEARS. SHE'S EVERYWHEEEERRRRRRE. There is silence from F'yr one beat, two, and then he clears his throat, acting as if nothing just happened that is any way out of the ordinary (AND LOOK, THIS IS XANADU, OKAY? STRANGER THINGS DEFINITELY HAVE), and goes on. "They prefer raw meat or cooked. Like from a meatroll, but in a pinch, jerky would manage. If you get them to put you together an insulated box from the kitchens to take with you until it hatches, you should be all set. I had a dragonhealer look at it and they said it's pretty closes to due." Right? Nice, normal. No one mind that there's movement in the arch of the entry to the sands… movement that is considerably larger than a firelizard.

So we're just gonna pretend nothing happened? That's definitely the look that Shiloh is sending F'yr-wards for that abrupt interruption and subsequent departure of his little Triumph. "Uh…" And maybe there's a squint toward the bronzerider. Like maybe Shiloh's beginning to wonder if it's just a F'YR-thing to have all these terrifying creatures attached to him. And maybe he is second guessing that little gift, given that he's casting it some serious side-eye as well. Hm. "Raw meat." At least he's listening. Even if he might be // contemplating his fate and pondering alternatives. But in the end. Oh. In the //end it is the shadow of the beast movement at the entry to the sands that has the breastcrafter going stiff, a hand unconsciously reaching for Averil like he might… what? Grab him? Protect him? Haul him away? Turns out just touch him, for the moment. "Might be time to go." He's just gonna assume anyway, even if assuming things hasn't always gone well for him.

Averil blinks repeatedly in the face of that appearance, his brows slowly creeping up toward his hairline. It is only when F'yr goes right on speaking that he slants a glance toward the others. "Did…" Course, he's not entirely certain he didn't imagine the whole thing and if he DID? Well, then he's crazy and it's probably better not to announce that outloud. >.> But then Shiloh is making the 'Uh' sound and Averil leans in to whisper, "You did see that, right?" Because he's still not sure. BUT rest assured, there will be a drawing to follow. Then there is a hand gripping his own and he just can't help but get that eerie feeling that comes with the fine hairs on the back of the neck raising. "What is happening?"

Ahhh, now Shiloh begins to see. On the bright side, Triumph is much too young to have laid the egg that the Beastcrafter is now in possession of, so there may be some (slim) hope yet. In fact, yes, F'yr is going to go on pretending that just nothing happened, because listen… this is his everyday, real life. Including the booming, « AHAHA HAHAHAH AHA HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! » BOOMING, JUST TOO LOUD, TOO HEROIC LAUGHTER AS GLORIOTH LEAPS INTO THE HATCHING GROUNDS, LIKE THE EMBODIMENT OF RADIENT VALOR THAT HE IS not. It surely will help nothing that he's got his teeth sunk deep into a dripping wild porcine carcass (at last it's already mostly exsanguinated in the flight back - don't mind the dried blood smattered along his neck and chest). "Looks like he's back early," F'yr says oh-so-casually. "But now is probably not the best moment for introductions." They're bound to be bloody. He does rise so he can escort the guests to the exit when they're ready. "Glori," he calls, though not loudly because the dragon can hear him, just like they can ALL HEAR the dragon, "Ina's starving." It's a distraction. RUN. It's not changing that Glorioth, completely wrapped up in himself, per usual, is doing anything to contain the blaring off-key heroic theme song, the clash of weapons the pervasive smell of something just oh-so-man—er, dragonly (LEATHER, SMOKE, OTHER DRAGONLY STUFF LIKE… OIL, YEAH. THAT). « MY F'YRLESS COMPANION, YOU DID WELL. I AM READY FOR MY SONGS OF PRAISE TO HERLAD MY GLORIOUS GLORIOUSNESS. » Of course, he does have a dripping wild porcine corpse, so he will stride with his wings flared just so as to given him the most epic of possible looks. (The shame of it is he's actually one stellar physical specimen. Maybe that explains why he has eggs on the sands? Nevermind that he's SOOO MUCH TINIER than Inasyth. It's fine. HIS PRESENCE MAKES UP FOR SOME OF THAT). "Best go," he hurries. Though whether this is because they're in danger or F'yr simply doesn't want an audience for the next musical adulations is anyone's guess.

LISTEN. The moment those trumpets blare, Shiloh is on his feet and, really, the only thing stopping a flight for the door is the necessity of grabbing his hat, that pot (for better or worse, it's coming with him) and Averil. Who does not get tossed over his shoulder because… his hands are already full. There's a LOOK for F'yr that says maybe never is a good time for introductions, but at least Shiloh doesn't say it. A flare of nostrils (for all those dragon-ly scents) despite it being in his head, and another snort for the bronzerider. "Good plan." That for the 'best go' that Shiloh is absolutely taking to heart and trying to execute. With his cowboy hat jammed (over the party hat) onto his head, there's a grab of Averil's arm that seeks to haul him out even if he can't haul him over his shoulder and they are gone. ENJOY THAT PORCINE GLORIOTH! Shiloh promises it tastes WAY BETTER than he ever could.

Now THAT… That is just not what Avi was expecting and it shows in the stunned, slightly bemused look he turns up Glorioth. And, while he is most assuredly startled at the cacophonous clarion calls, he just can't help but smile at the.. Well.. It /really/ is kind of funny— although he is polite enough not to just up and laugh. He's smiling, though, despite the bloody carcass clenched massive jaws. Rest assured, he is taking a multitude of mental snap shots and filing them away even as he's being hauled to his feet by Shiloh. Unfortunately, while Glorioth is most assuredly glori- okay, eye-catching, we'll go with that— Shiloh is just as eye-catching and Averil is quick to tuck himself in against the beastcrafter's side. Course, rest assured that he IS looking over his shoulder alot. Shiloh is definately the one steering the flight. "Thank you," is called to F'yr before they are out of sight.

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