Xanadu Weyr - Hatching Sands
The large circular "stage" is surrounded on one half by a towering wall, thin slit windows high overhead letting in some light without truly endangering the objects on the sands, though plenty of lights are spaced at human-level all the way around. The other half is ringed by the dark blue seats of the observation level, rising upwards towards the back wall. The circle itself is filled with a mix of red and white sands, deep enough to cover the largest of dragon eggs with ease. To one side, a small door is visible, hidden away behind a platform meant to provide a place for the clutch parent's lifemates to stand during the on goings.
Winter has arrived in Xanadu and although it has just begun, the chill of Fall has deepened to a sharp, biting cold though the days continue fairly clear. Small blessings. It's only midmorning yet, so as yet there's no relief from the temperatures, which only warms slightly during the midday hours. Perhaps the baking sands will be a welcome change - at least for a time. Candidates have once more been assembled, ushered into the Hatching Grounds by the AWLMs, the rules reiterated of no running, horseplay, loud takling and showing respect. Seryth is curled close to Inimeth today and seems calmer than is her usual, although she watches the arrivals closely. Today Thea meets the group with a quiet smile. "Her green gaze roves over the group as she says, "Try to be relaxed - if you can." It's quite likely her gaze lingering on Pyriel as she says that is merely coincidence. Turning and striding out onto the sands, she adds, "Follow me? And… if you will, one person per egg." A hand gesture for them to spread out and go to it is all the permission the need to get started.
Pyriel is less reluctant then he was his first time, so when the instructions are complete and Thea invites them to come and experience the clutch, the blond steps forward and bows less awkwardly to the queen. Perhaps he should practice that when no one is watching. Golden eyes dart over the nestled ovoids, as if trying to remember what eggs he touched and what eggs he hadn't. He watches some of his fellow candidates wander and weave around him, among them and his gazes settles upon one in particular he had been curious about. The Monument to TIme and Space. Feet carry him in that direction, a hand coming out and gently coming to rest upon it's apex.
Olarya slowly makes her way out onto the sands and those bright eyes take sight of the clutch before her. She takes a deep breath, lips pressing into a fine line before she moves and makes her way to dam and sire of the clutch. As neatly as she could remember, she offers a bow to the pair and a smile in greeting before she rises, taking one step back and turning to the many eggs on the sands. Eyes drift to Pyriel and then the others before she begins chewing on her lip, deciding which of the many to experience first. One foot forward and then the next, fingertips reach out and they rest upon the first of the many shells before her.
Aqueepoli is all about the relaxation. It's simple enough for the man to just wipe his mind clear of any and all thoughts. Following in the footsteps of Pyriel, Pol steps forward and gives a sweeping bow to the golden dragon and her bronze mate. That small duty finished, he ships a grin towards Thea, nodding his head at her quick directions and following closer towards the eggs. Each one gets a quick, assessing glance, before he departs from the small group of gathered candidates and approaches Halls of Crumbling Stone Egg. His breath hitches a bit, as a single hand is slowly brought forward to rest lightly on the egg's shell. "Hey egg, s'up?" Pol whispers out, trying to get a feel for this egg touching thing.
Iessrien follows his fellow candidates, steps steady despite the flicker of nervousness in his expression. He listens to Thea in silence, hands tucked behind him, shoulders a little too-straight to be relaxed, though the rest of him is composed. For one reason or another, he's not had the chance yet to be out on the sands, and the sight of the eggs up close gives him pause, though he hurries out in the wake of Pol and Pyriel, giving the other two a quick glance and hesitating as he watches them. A stiff, formal bow is given to the clutchparents, the holder boy straightening with widened eyes, looking lost for a moment before he gathers himself and remembers to approach an egg. Reaching out slowly, a palm is gently pressed to the shell of the Stele Translations Egg, the boy taking a breath, clearly having no idea of what to expect.
There is a blink of surprise from Pyriel as the first touch of that alien consciousness tingles the back of his mind. Tension he wasn't even aware of in his shoulders suddenly relaxes all at once. There was no need for him to brace, even unconsciously, for something unpleasant, at least not yet. His brows crease even so, nose crinkling. "I can explain…" he murmurs low, cheeks flushing at whatever he was experiencing over there. Embarrassed, he tucks in his chin, hopeful for the fact that everyone was likely not paying the harper any attention. So his moment there, would be missed. "That's just between ya and me, kay?" Secret. Shhh. "Dun be like, telling yer egg buddies and we'll be cool."
Aqueepoli jerks his hand back, a hissing noise coming from him as a breath of air is released between clenched teeth. "That is /bizarre/!" He states, though not overly loudly. His voice staying at a lower volume out of respect for the clutchparents. Eyes jerk towards the other candidates, watching their movements and faces as they all go about the touching. Aqueepoli frowns, eyes narrowing just a fraction before he puts the same hand back on the shell. He gives out a sigh of mock-exhaustion. "I don't know, egg. Tha' all sounds like way to much work to me." Is muttered as he leans in and waits.
Olarya stands there motionless while her hand rests upon the shell, her head tilts to the side, sending her golden runnertail to slip from her shoulder and down behind her while her thoughts take in what it's currently experiencing. A crooked smile begins to form on her features, and she nods her head. "Very true, little egg. Very true." She smooths her hand across the same shell, seeking out anything else that might surface from within…
Iessrien's brows slowly creep together, eyes closing with a look of vague confusion, feet shifting upon the hatching sands, though he stills after a moment, the crease upon his brow deepening by increments. There's a slight twitch to his shoulders, though his expression is quickly shifting towards dubious, eyes slitting open to peer at the egg, but without commentary. He's.. not about to talk to the thing. Gaze flicking briefly to the other candidates who /are/ apparently holding conversations with the clutch, Iess only looks more skeptical, and maybe a little perturbed, the sensation he's receiving from the one he's touching apparently not entirely comfortable.. or comprehensible. Still, his hand remains on the shell, pondwater-blue eyes returning to examine it, curiosity mingling with the lingering hints of nervousness.
"Uh." Such intelligence to be found in this one, no? Pyriel is tempted to take a hand off the egg and rub the back of his neck, gaze darting off to the side with a twitch. It wasn't the heat of the sands that was darkening his cheeks, or making his eyes widen to some degree. "I can explain that too…" he mutters, lowering the volume of his voice considerably. He then stands there for a time, golden hues rolling upwards in further embarrassment. "Seriously, dude…we gutta go there?" The blond ends up shaking his head and groaning softly. While what was happening wasn't enough to dislodge the harper candidate, he was obviously struggling with the questions or emotions he was having to own up to there. "Okay, yeah um…" Yes please, can we move on now?
There is some definite pinioning backwards coming from Aqueepoli. He's a few steps away from the egg, hand that once touched the shell being held to his chest. Eyes are wide, full of alarm. His breath coming out once more as hitched grasps. "/Shells/!" Pol exclaims, head shaking back and forth. "That's some heavy stuff, there." A few moments of peace within his mind are needed, the candidate simply standing in one place, eyes unfocused staring into the distance. Possibly mulling over the weird sensations given from the egg, or he just blanked completely and forgot what he was doing. Either or, the teen gives a full-body wiggle and shakes away the weird feeling from his mind. "Kay. Once more. One more touch. Ya ain't that scary, egg." Pol moves forward, shoulders squared, and this time both hands are placed upon the same egg's shell. Let's tango.
Olarya chuckles quietly to herself before a smug look finds it's place upon her features and she nods to no one but herself in particular. Now, both hands find their way across the surface of the shell, taking anything that flickers through. The sounds of the other candidates reach her ears but they're not strong enough to pull her attentions away just yet. They're distracted by the eggs, let her be, too.
Olarya lets her eyes flutter open as soon as that brilliant light begins to fade. She smiles widely, this egg almost makes her feel overly confident and she guiltily lets her eyes dart to the other candidates but no one seems to notice her own little pride party going on in this corner. She clears her throat, whispering, "See you later little egg," before her hand slips free of the shell and she makes her way to the next, reaching out to touch it with those curious fingertips.
That tension from before? It's back. While it may not be so noticeable, Pyriel's shoulders move slightly inwards. Then suddenly it looks like he's trying to disappear, curling in a bit around the egg. Fingers dance over the top of it, never leaving the warm smooth surface, even as they reposition down further to it's sides. It might look like an embrace, but really this was so that the blond boy could start pleadingly whispers to his 'companion'. Whatever is said, can't really be heard, it's just the tone of his voice that might indicate his current situation. He's like this for quite some time, though he straightens at some point, rolling his neck with an audible popping sound before his attention is once more settled upon the highest point of the ovoid. "Why ya asking, just pluck it out like ya did with the rest of that crap." he growls somewhat, mildly annoyed with this one, but at least he's not making a huge fuss out of it. His voice hushed. He remember what happened the last time people got all squeaky and alarmed. Seryth got a bit upset. So there is that constant nagging sensation that reminds him to keep it down over there.
Aqueepoli stands still for a while, eyes closed as if concentrating. Finally, he allows both hands to drop and turns around on his heel. His face is contemplative, before that expression melts away and simply a silly grin is all that remains. Shoulders are shrugged, one after the other. A glance is tossed over his shoulder as he waves a hand in farewell to the egg, before moving on towards a different one. A different egg catches his attention now, as Pol meanders over to An Eternity At Attention Egg. A moment or two are spent assessing the egg. It doesn't take long before his short attention span demands he TOUCH. EGG. NOW that he's walking forward the repeating a similar action from before. One hand is reached out, though there is a certain amount of wary and hesitation this time, not as willing to jump into something, it seems. All the same. Hand meets egg, egg meets hand, and Pol gives a big ole sigh and clenches his eyes shut in preparation for… something.
Iessrien stiffens, posture straightening till his shoulders have drawn back, staring down the egg as if he were being issued some sort of challenge. His jaw sets, eyes widening a fraction before they narrow again on the shell, chin lifting with undisguised pride. There's a slight tremble where his hand is placed on the egg, but it remains there still, the boy unmoving, mustering all the dignity he can in his posture. And then suddenly there is a start, the gathered composure tumbling away as his eyes widen, unseeing of anything on the hatching sands, lips parted though no sound is uttered, instead a deep breath taken. Squaring his shoulders, Iessrien lets his fingers travel a little ways up the eggshell, stubbornly refusing to break contact despite the obvious tension in his back and shoulders.
Olarya pauses for a moment, her face expressionless as she takes in the scents? She can't help but to take in a deep breath and she leans her head forward as though she's searching, searching for something but she doesn't know what or where to look. All she can do, is slide her hand across the shell and see what wanders through her mind next. This egg seems to be a little bit calmer than the last, and this is only the beginning. One thing is for certain, the golden curls that frame her face are beginning to make her nose wrinkle up and itch but not so much that she has to pull away yet. She blows out little puffs of air to dislodge the tickling in the meanwhile, to keep her from sneezing.
Thea wanders silently among the eggs, flicking a glance now and then to Seryth - as if she needs eye-contact to gauge her mood! Save for the flicking back and forth of the queen’s tailtip, there's naught to indicate the tension, little as it is today. Perhaps it's the smaller group or the nearness of her mate. Either way there's no growling or yellow flecks in her eyes. Eyes that follow the Candidates closely still. Thea herself doesn't attempt to break into the reverie of the Candidates, but she is there, offering her support should they need it with half-smiles and nods now and then.
Olarya raises a brow at the egg before her and shrugs slightly, sliding her hand across the shell and shifting upon her feet. What makes her worthy? That's for her to know and the little egg to find out! She sniffles a bit and moves her other hand to push the strands from her face before placing the second upon the apex of the shell one last time. There's many more eggs to meet this day and possibly the next but for now, she's taking her time with each one as long as the queen allows it. If memory serves her correctly (often it doesn't), she might not allow it for too long.
Pyriel eyes the egg dubiously. The flush on his cheeks having now returned to a light hue of rose for the heat of the sands and the cavern, even now in the beginnings of winter. There'a a moment when it seems that the boy's attention is wavering as he becomes increasingly impatient with this one. He rolls his shoulders somewhere in there, until he shudders and looks disoriented. "Whoa, slow down I can't…" he starts, but rather than finishing the thought it trails off into a deep sigh. "Kay, whatever." he breathes; hands coming off the Monument to TIme and Space egg. He takes a few steps back, checking behind him for any others whether it be candidate or dragon egg before he gives the one he was just on a bit of a suspicious look and then wanders off to find another. He hones in on the Love's Timeless Temple Egg, and remembers how Kiley reacted to it in passing. But vaguely. A moment's hesitation and he's stepping over that way with more than a little apprehension. "Here goes…" he swallows, and gingerly reaches out to place one palm on it's side.
Disbelief and irritation rise easily off of Aqueepoli. His testosterone levels peeking at the veiled insults his mind seems to be taking. "Pffft, what do /you/ know, egg? Eh? EH? Nothing, that's what! You dun know /nothing/!" It's not screamed, but instead the words are ground out between clenched teeth, anger radiating off of each syllable. "How ya like that? Not too much, I bet. I showed you!" Not that he even did anything, other than stand in one place and argue at a dragon's egg. At least at the Weyr, it won't really be seen as insanity. "Ya got more, huh? Do ya? I bet ya /don't/!" Just to show the egg who is the boss, Pol puts his other hand on the shell again, all while puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger and more frightening. Yeah. Unce! Take that!
Olarya lets her fingers curl slightly upon the surface of the shell, then she pauses, straightening them out once more. There's a bit of longing going through the girl, remembering old friendships that she had growing up throughout the turns and the friends that would take her hand and run giggling into the wilderness or shores. She takes in a deep breath and sighs, tilting her head to the side and offering a little nod and smile to the egg. "Hang tight, little egg. It won't be for long." Her fingertips slide free of the shell and those bright eyes glance around to to the next egg. She reaches out, placing her hand flat on the apex of the ovoid form.
Olarya lets her brows narrow as she takes in the assault of darkness coming from within this shell. She shifts her feet, taking on a defensive stance yet her hand doesn't come free from the egg just yet. She places the other hand upon it, sliding both hands closely together and she tilts her head down, searching, seeking the source within the shadows within.
While it may not be considered insanity, Aqueepoli's hissed words do draw an uptick of dark brows from Thea. She ducks her head to hide the grin that twitches her mouth and turns to walk the other way.
Iessrien continues to stare down the egg, though gradually the tension seems to ebb from his posture, gaze looking beyons the contour of the shell, as if turned inward, and a slow smirk begins to emerge, angular features relaxing while brows arch up into feathered bangs. Head canting to the side, Iessrien considers the egg, lips pressing into a line before he smiles, an almost dreamy and then serious look flickering across his features, though they compose themselves again, the boy shifting away, latting his hand drop. Iessrien steps back, releasing a long, slow breath and looking both confused and thoughtful. Still, there's less nervousness behind his eyes as there was before, the boy quietly turning to another egg and reaching out. He hesitates a moment, then presses palm to shell, steadily regarding the Halls of Crumbling Stone Egg.
Pyriel startles right off the bat, lashes fluttered in both shock and dismay. "Are ya…" he begins, and then groans deeply. "Uuuuugggghh. Ain't happening. Ya just can't smile on command." Well yes you can, but Py clearly has issue with this. Then he balks and takes a step back, nearly removing his hand completely from the egg before him. "Wh-wh-what?" he asks, perhaps a little bit louder than intended but nonetheless not so much that it would disturb anyone unless they were right next to him. His face all at once red from ear tips to the base of his neck as he has a blushing explosion. One might even imagine a steady stream of steam rising up from the top of his head. His mouth is then hung open, very attractive, and he gapes trying to form words that he was having trouble grasping. "Uh, uh, um…yea…uh." After this? He just shudders and scruntches up.
Olarya frowns. "If you want to know, egg, you better look harder or even better, wait and see for yourself." HRMPH! She blushes furiously for a moment and then roughly shakes her head. A joke from that idiot bluerider crosses her mind but she pushes it aside. The eggs aren't like that, they're not because that idiot can't speak the truth if his life depended on it. Her hands don't move an inch but her shoulders tremble for a minute. This one is a fighter! But so is she… "Egg think you can intimidate me, BAH. If I can intimidate these males, I won't break for you, egg." NEENER.
Aqueepoli is twitching as he moves away for a brief second. Both hands off the shell, but hovering right on top of it. "I dun think I like how this guy thinks." Or girl. Whatever happens to be inside the egg. "I think it thinks I… I… well. I dun know what. But." But it's not exactly filling Aqueepoli full of the happy. That frown is back, the remainders of his silly grin but a figment of imagination at this point. "So wha' are ya even looking for, eh? An' y'know, if'n you think I'm dumb, I'm telling ya, I ain't!" For REALZ. He huffs, chest puffing out once more. Teeth are gritted, face full of a steely resolve. "I can't believe I feel like I'm being talked down to by a bloody egg. Sharding Weyrlife." Pol mutters under his breath, head just shaking back and forth. Hands are replaced a final time on the egg's shell. He's ready! Get some!
Iessrien keeps his palm on the shell of the egg, one thin brow arching up toward his hairline, the other soon joining it in what might be a look of faint admiration. Once again his chin lifts, shoulders straightening back as if facing some inner challenge, his eyes unseeing of anything on the hatching sends, attention quite obviously elsewhere, and faraway. Others might be moving or speaking nearby, bit Iessrien is unhearing, fingers giving the slightest twitch then stilling, a half-lidded, expectant look on his face.
Olarya lets her hand slide free from the shell and she peers at it with a look of utter confusion. "You are one silly egg, I don't think you even know which side of the shell you're on." The candidate shakes her head and glances to the others and their interactions with the shells before them. She slowly moves away from her current egg and glances around until one seems to be calling her. It could very well be a wrong number or a case of the 'ooh shiny' but it's beckoning and her fingertips reach out to touch this egg…
Iessrien braces himself, shoulders tensing just a fraction, feet shifting the slightest bit, but remains otherwise cmposed, head held high. And yet.. his whole frame quivers. There's a wavering of resolve, flicker of some fear in his expression, but eyes harden, staring straight and yet unseeing, jaw tightening all of a sudden. His nose wrinkles and the color drains from his face, the boy standing there shivering and pale, but steadfast. His hand remains, resolutely, upon the egg's shell.
Olarya stubbornly digs her heals into the sand and she moves her other hand to join the first. "Not gonna chase me off so easily, egg." She turns her nose up at the shell before her and continues sliding fingertips across to see what other little tricks it has up it's sleeves! She's not ready to be chased off just yet. The candidate tilts her head down, her runner tail slipping off her shoulder once more and resting before her only this time, the smaller strands that frame her face aren't in the way… Possibly due to static.
The signs of displeasure and agitation are quite evident on Pyriel's face at this point. It was taking quite a lot of stubbornness to keep his hand on the egg, though at this point it was just his fingertips. The harper candidate is soon shaking his head and pursing his lips together, as if this would stop any answering of questions or perhaps even screams of terror from emerging. Even if he in no way looks terrified as if he was being subjected to things that made him scared, other than completely not being interested in what was being presented to him. It was an overload of something or another. Finally, "Okay look, maybe ya could tone down the happy fluffy love stuff? Kay?" he grumbles, face distorting as he gets an expression of disgust. Just a suggestion, and now he was down to just a few fingers lingering, as if the act of withdrawing form those thoughts was difficult, even overwhelming. Like staring at something that horrifies you, but being unable to look away.
Iessrien blinks, every scrap of tension draining away, and in that second the boy stills, soft breath released even as he drops his gaze, the eggshell examined in detail while his hand moves atop it, light brush of fingers accompanied by a curious expression, chin lifting yet again, proudly. Lips tilt into a faint smirk, lashes lowering for a moment, and then he withdraws his hand, turning to the next egg with far more confidence than he'd entered the sands with. Unhesitating, this time he places his palm on the shell, gaze steady upon the Ethereal Cairn Egg.
Olarya straightens her stance to something akin to arrogance, even the wide grin and downturned brows signalling something challenging shows on her. She digs her heals into the sands once more, pressing in her toes this time and tilting her head down lower as she seeks out what the egg has presented her, ready to take on anything thrown in her direction. Though, if it's one of the males throwing things, there'll be a few less candidates to trip over and hide behind come hatching day.
"GAH!" Aqueepoli is removing himself completely from the eggs general area, already the lad has jumped back a good foot or more, creating more distance from the egg. "Shards!" There are no other words that can possibly explain his shock than just that. His breathing is quite heavy now, the air being allowed in only to be gasped out right away. "Shells." Another brilliant statement by the holder. "I'm done with ya." He gets himself under control, breathing all nice and normal once more. "Crazy flipping egg. I swear." Pol is walking away from the egg now, though he does get near enough another candidate and mumbles, "Stay away from that one, ya hear? It's pissed." Sagenod. The other candidate only stares at Pol, than continues on their way. Seeing an egg unoccupied that has peeked his curiosity a time or two, he walks up to Monument of Time and Space Egg. "Ya better be less crazy than the last one, ya hear?" A nod is given, as if he was given an answer, and the hand goes to touch the egg's smooth shell.
Olarya lets her hand slide down off of the shell and she seems to do a little strut pass the others and onto the next eggie. She liked that one and the little bit of a challenge it offered but even that little bit offered her a rush she missed for some time. Those bright eyes pick out another shell among the masses and she rests her hand upon it, closing her eyes and awaiting what will come her way with this one.
Iessrien blinks, but remains otherwise unmoving, still and expectant. A smile begins to twitch at the corners of his mouth, though the edges are soon tugging downwards, frown replacing the earlier confidence. Thin brows draw together, hand moving to rub gently over the egg's shell, less wondering and more sympathy as eyelids drop, quietly watching the egg while his palms rests atop it.
Pyriel blinks and then he's down to one finger. "Oh yeah I am totally sure." he says, shaking his head and really wanting to take that final step back to just get this over and done with but he just can't. Damn the power of fluffy thought. Damn you to the deepest darkest parts of the ocean where the light may never ever find you again. Brows sink very low and then crease to make a wrinkle between. "Shard it, lemme go!" Too much love, too much rainbow and kittens, must. Pull. Away. He gives a tortured look towards the egg, sweat beading upon his brow. "I dun feel that way at all." he vehemently protests, arm shaking now with the effort to pull away, but it was like he was magnetized there and completely unable to do so. Pleading eyes search the sands for someone, anyone to get him off this thing. It was a ride he really badly wanted to get off of now. Please? Someone? Anyone?
After the last two eggs, Aqueepoli had assumed what to expect from this one. Needless to say, he hasn't quite gotten when he thought he would. Eyebrows arch up, head tilts to the side, a question mark appears over the entirety of his face. "Oooookaaaaay." He says, slowly. "You dun seem to bad, I guess." There is that hesitation again. Trusting the eggs seems to be a hard thing for the lad to do at this point. "Wha'cha even want, eh? I dun think I get it." Not that thats a surprise to anyone. Both palms are laid flat on the shell and Pol sends a quick glance around the sands, then centers his attention back fully on the egg.
Olarya grumbles, "Got nothing to say for myself, EGG. What do you have to say for yourself? Hrm?" That's right, kids, she's talking to an egg and at the moment, one could even argue as to say they both share the same levels of sarcasm and wit. Is it true? She slides her hands across the shell and changes her stance a bit to something a little more cocky and arrogant, her nose turned up at the sky. Bring it, egg!
Iessrien's features soften, a not entirely common expression for the holder boy, though the distant look on his eyes might suggest he's unaware of it. Carefully controlled composure eases into something gentler, though he blinks, curious tilted smile appearing. And then brows draw together, lips twitching, though not quite into a frown, as if the boy were thinking hard, having forgotten he's been standing here all this time with his hand upon an egg.
It's unlike Thea to torment people. Well, maybe a little, but the look on Pyriel's face is too much. She steps closer to the lad, nothing but genuine concern on her face as she reaches a hand, fingers attempting to curl 'round his wrist and gently disengage his hand from the shell. They're standing quite close as she murmurs so he won't be embarrassed by the question, "You feeling alright?" Though the egg does get a flicker of a glance, it's the boy's face that merits her attention. He… looks almost ill.
Olarya frowns again with this one, too. "What is it with you eggs and being so testy. You want to know the truth? You're going to have to come out and see for your self." Hrmph. She merely shifts her hands upon the shell and continues to tune it to what it shows. She opens an eye and glances over to Pyriel for a moment and shakes her head. Curiosity killed the feline but it'll wait. She's not done with this one yet.
Olarya lets her eyes pop open and she peers at the shell with a look of disbelief. "You need some discipline, eggie. Maybe when I see you on the flipside of the shell." Or something. She shakes her head and glances over to the rest of the eggs, thinking of what she might encounter with the next.
Iessrien's eyes widen, arched brows lifting all the way to his bangs, disappearing beneath the dark, feathered fringe of hair. Again that smirk, and an undisguised hint of pride, shoulders settling back with confidence once again. The look of unshakable surety doesn't last, though once he's removed his hand from the shell, there's no denying the straight-backed posture. He's a holder's son; a certain amount of pride is probably expected of him, but there's something in his eyes that speaks volumes for his sense of self-worth. Just as he's stepping away from the eggs, however, he stops. Having spotted Thea and Pyriel, his internal egofest pauses to consider them, eyebrows drawing together in the briefest flicker of concern, even as he's absently placing his palm to the shell of the Lost in Fathoms Below Egg.
There is an unbearable shudder that rack's Pyriel's body before at last he's released from the power of love and he pales, as if he would like very much to just wrap his arms around himself, find a corner somewhere and curl up there to rock himself back and forth into a semblance of normality. He refuses to even look at the egg anymore, shivering, despite the heat. That's when he notices that it's Thea's slim fingers wrapped around his wrist. His savior, the vile temptress who haunts his candidate dreams. Or something like that. Eyes to the size of dinner place, brilliantly colored like that of a redfruit, only made worse by their proximity. This looks like it was almost worse than being brow beat by that egg he'd just been rescued from. There is another shudder, but this one for completely different reasons. Golden eyes peak up past his lashes from their new lowered position, even as he so very carefully retracts himself from her touch. Not in a disgusted way, but rather in a polite 'yer not making this any better' fashion. "I'm good." he says, in almost a squeak and certainly not very convincing. His eyes dart back up to her a few times before he takes a step back to put some space between them. He wobbles a little bit however, trying to maintain a sense of balance. "Thanks though…The…er ma'am." A wince. Ugh, crawling under a rock and hiding suddenly seemed like a really good idea. "Uh, on second thought…can I go…lay down or something?" Or find a way to bludgeon himself into unconsciousness. Whichever did the trick first.
Aqueepoli purses his lips, on the verge of saying something, but the words aren't formed. Now it's just a singular eyebrow that moves up, though that question mark on his face still stays the same. He's grasping at straws here, close to some sort of revelation, but just not quite there yet. At least, that's the vibe he's gleaning from the egg. "I… I dun…" The words 'get it' are forgotten as Aqueepoli tries to force his mind to think beyond itself. One can just about hear the grinding of rusty gears. A sigh of frustration erupts, but there's a different feel about it. Not overly feeling threatened by this egg, Aqueepoli allows his hands to linger on the shell, hoping a 'Eureka' moment will hit him.
Thea has no idea whatsoever on what's going on inside Pyriel's head. The boy continues to get a very puzzled look. "I told you they could be overwhelming." That must be it, yes. And while he pulls away, though her fingers release his wrist, she hovers a hand near his elbow just in case. "I can't have you fainting, you know. Fall on an egg and break it, I don't have to tell you both of them," a jerk of her dark head in the direction of the clutchparents, "will come unglued." Her other hand is beckoning an AWLM to double-time it their way to escort the boy off the sands. "Lying down might be a good idea. Tell them you've got the rest of the morning off from chores, eh?"
Iessrien almost is too busy watching Pyriel and the weyrwoman, to notice anything else, though his attention is quickly shifted, with a blonk in surprise, to the shell before him, the boy's shoulders relaxing as his mind is drawn in to whatever the egg has to show him. Head tilting as if to listen, the boy stills, expression growing curious. His hand remains in contact with the egg, lips parted though no words are spoken aloud, the faintest shiver evident.
It's all still by the egg, until Aqueepoli is suddenly doing a 180. Jumping so where his back was once facing is now where his front is, he's looking around frantically. Trying to look where he usually would not. Though all he sees is… well. The sands. Candidates. The two dragons. The Weyrwoman. His bros. HI GUYS! Aqueepoli takes a second to wave frantically and energetically at Iessrien and Pyriel, even if the two aren't looking his way. It's nice to have friends! But! Back to searching. He looks up. He looks down. To the right. To the left. Perhaps, the candidate takes most things entirely too liberal. Deeper meanings are, alas, lost on him. Shoulders are shrugged, arms are crossed. Turning back around, Pol is facing the egg once more. "You confuse me, egg. I'd rather ya like… try to attack or something. Like that other one. I can take an attack. But…" Thinking is HARD. One last touch will do it, singular hand touches shell once more.
Aqueepoli takes a few calm steps back. He just doesn't get it. "Ah… well." The egg gets a soft pat of farewell, and the candidate is walking closer to the middle of the sands. Eggs all around him, as well as his fellow candidates. He takes his time in finding another egg to touch. The reactions of other candidates helping his decide which is the next to touch. Finally, he relents and marches straight up to Stele Translations Egg. "Kay, jus' you an' me here, Mr. Egg. So let's have your all. I ain't beatin' round the bush." Hands are placed in the appropriate place and Pol settles in, taking a moment to fully enjoy the warmth of the sands. Even his toes have de-thawed at this point!
Iessrien leans closer, listening intently, hand rubbing a gentle circle upon the smooth surface. He stops, however, either in realization of how strange he looks, or something else unseen. There's a faint furrow to his brow, lips pursing in thought while he cants his head. Slowly, eyelids lower, sinking closed with an expression of intent, inner listening, if such a thing were conveyable by posture alone. Thus, he misses Pol's wild waving entirely, caught up in whatever his mind's eye is being presented with. His other hand, the one not still pressed to the egg's shell, is raised to press a palm to his own chest, just over his heart. The pose he strikes, just then, straightening to his full height, it.. kind of dramatic. Licking his lips, his head lifts, shoulders again squaring back. Looking totally determined.
An AWLM shushes Aqueepoli after that HI GUYS of his, earning the lad a quick frown from the Weyrwoman. Thea says nothing, however, maintaining a concern for the wobbly Candidate beside her. Though she does call a quietly authoritative, "Remember to move slowly people." She means it.
Iessrien shivers, maintaining that over-dramatic posture for a time, his expression softening all over again, the hand over his heart curling fingers ever so slightly. And then he steps back, the touch upon the egg broken, though not hurriedly, eyes opening to merely regard it with a clam thoughtfulness for a few moments. It's only belatedly he drops his other hand from over his heart, her turns to another egg, not quite so smug this time, but definitely more thoughtful. A hand is placed lightly atop the Avenue of the Dead Egg, Iessrien watching it, mildly expectant.
Aqueepoli has the decency to look properly scolded, giving a nod to the assistant weyrlingmaster as well as making the motion of zipping across his own lips. No more outbursts from over here. "Sorry." He weakly says, though in a quiet voice. Sometimes his exuberance just needs to jump free, though should remained tightly reined in. Looking back to the egg, where both hands are still placed, he gets back to the feeling he just received. Male pride starts brewing within the confines of Aqueepoli's self, his eyes narrowing as he feels a direct challenge from said egg. Not an attack physically, by any means, but of his courage. Well. He'll show the egg. He stays put, refusing to budge from his place. More so, his knees lock, feet dig into the sands beneath them, and snaps his teeth closed. He can take what the egg dishes out!
Iessrien tenses immesiately, shoulders drawing back, though his hand remains unmoving atop the egg. His expression steels, lined of his face hardening in composure, head lifting high. Indeed, the boy doesn't appear the least bit intimidated, though very slightly, his form trembles. He continues to stand there, however, steadily regarding the egg.
From afar, Kiley is going through logs and such because Py-p started talking with me. Is this a /huge/ deal? But yeah, she said she'll try to work on it but she doesn't always realize she's doing it.
Iessrien sucks in his breath, face drawn as features tighten, a sudden flinch evident despite his formerly still posture. He holds his ground, however, brows descending in determination, the line of his shoulders speaking volumes. Unyielding, he might tremble ever so slightly, but there's no backward step, no motion to run. Indeed, he seems rooted where he stands, even at the flicker of apprehension in his expression. Continuing to eye the egg steadily, even if his gaze is looking somewhere beyond it, the keeps his hand on the shell.
Pyriel nods absently to what is said to him, eyeing the dame and sire of the clutch blankly. Then his eyes come back to Thea and he nods again. Still appearing pale and unable to do anymore touching at this juncture, he simply lets himself be guided from the sands by the assistant Weyrlingmaster. There is a lingering look cast of his shoulder back at eggs and sands, his expression mixed and too complex to define. Then he rounds the corner and disappears from sight.
Aqueepoli will show who has the will to stay. His feet are planted, after all. That means he means business! He's not ready to give in just yet. Though his mouth hangs open and he feels quite parched. He starts making a weird face, moving his lips around and sticking his tongue out, almost as if there is sand in his mouth and he wants it out. There's a new glint in his eyes, an eagerness to really feel this egg out. He's leaning closer than any time previously, both hands anchored in their spot on the shell. The skin of his cheek barely touching the smooth contours of the egg. No words are needed, he just waits for the exciting part to hit him. Mentally willing himself forth, Aqueepoli closes his eyes once more.
"Whoa." Aqueepoli's voice takes of a breathy quality, his eyes fully opened and seeing but not-seeing. His arms suddenly lose all strength, falling to his side to hang loosely. It's a look of respect he gives this egg, a jerky nod of farewell given before he's sluggishly moving closer to the Weyrwoman. Though not before he turns on his heel and gives a quick bow to both clutchparents once more. Back towards Thea, the young man stands straight and tall. "Ma'am, errr…" Pol stutters a moment, trying to remember what he was gonna say. "I… I think I've taken all I can for one day, y'know? If'n it's okay, I'm heading… out." He motions to the exit of the sands. With a salute the Senior, Pol angles himself towards the exit and starts on his way out. A few looks are thrown over his shoulder at the eggs, just to ensure they aren't following him or anything. At this point, he'd almost believe they could. "Err." Coming to a stop, the candidate turns around once more and says, "Thanks!" Before heading the rest of the way out. A nap and some food sound exactly what his aching mind needs.
Iessrien stands there, statue-still, head lifting higher. Once again, he looks every bit the holder's son, however minor it might be, though whatever else is going through his mind, it remains hidden, no indication given in his expression despite a vaguely preoccupied look, his features composed and calm. An eyebrow arches at the egg, the boy eventually stepping back, chin lifted as he regards it beneath lowering lashes. There's as much appraisal for the thing as there is wariness, though the latter is soon brushed aside when he approaches another egg. There's a pause, however, as he spots Pol departing, and an uncertain glance is cast Thea's way, flicking toward the AWLMs as well, as if uncertain whether he should continue.
There's a general, but quiet herding of Candidates towards the exit going on. It seems that morning chores beckon and time is short today for this touching. Thea concurs with the AWLMs, waving the others to follow, gently pat-patting a few here and there that seem lost to their own reflections by the eggs. As the sands empty, she heads towards Seryth. The queen did well, but she's still going to need some soothing.
Iessrien turns to follow the remaining candidates out, releasing a quiet breath as shoulders relax, bowing to the clutchparents and then walking steadily back toward the barracks, no particular hurry or upset in his expression, only that some thoughtfulness, and a slightly more confident line to his back.