Touching Eggs and Drinking Games

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.

AT LEAST THE HOUR IS REASONABLE and Risali looks significantly more awake this time. Leirith has sent out the call, a much-too-enthused, « MINIONS!!! IT HAS BEEN TOO MUCH TIME SINCE YOU CAME TO STARE AT THESE BADASSES I MADE. YOU SHOULD COME QUICK. BUT NOT TOO QUICK; IT'D BE REALLY EMBARRASSING FOR YOU IF I HAD TO EAT YOU FOR TRIPPING OVER AN EGG, BUT EXTRA BADASS FOR ME AHAHAHAHA. » It's the senior weyrwoman who has THE BEST RIDE IN THE HOUSE. Is she piggy-backing on Xanadu's weyrleader? YES SHE IS. She's got her sunglasses on and she's doublefisting some obnoxiously neon-colored drinks, each complete with TINY UMBRELLAS, and has an entire bottle of booze tucked between where her body is pressed against R'hyn's back. "Candidates!" Risali breathes out to those slowly filing onto the sands, holding up one of those drinks in what might be a salute, might be a toast, is definitely too full of chicanery to mean ANYTHING GOOD. "Don't forget to bow!" And then she's laughing, probably because Leirith makes like she is going to LICK SOME OF THOSE BOOZE, and PROBABLY she sloshes a little on R'hyn but DOES THAT MATTER? The weyrlingmasters are looking harassed, and breathing out, "Don't do as they do, and please be careful." BUT ALAS, THEY ARE FREE TO TOUCH. GO FORTH, MAKE LEIRITH PROUD.

From the stands sounds of children's laughter, squealing and some overly loud whining drift down to the Sands to indicate that perhaps babysitting Zach decided to come and watch people touch eggs. No doubt chaos will ensue up there. WIll there be chaos down here? Perhaps. Licking is also a good possibility.

Somehow, Ligeia's still shaking sand out from that little venture to the beach; it's in her hair, isn't it? (that's rhetorical; she definitely has sand in her hair). Somewhere along the way, though, she's divested herself of her bag, courtesy of a pair of well-trained firelizards, and that just leaves her present, along with another Candidate. She angles a look to Kyszarin, then to the galleries, before finally regarding the elephant on the Sands - that of a piggybacking Senior with doublefisted booze and too-cool-for-school sunglasses. She suppresses a laugh by smothering it under the guise of a cough and, finally, steps into an easy bow for the dragon parents as much as their riders. And then? She steps forward, taking a moment before planting a hand on Wild Tides Egg.

< Ligeia touches egg 6 - Wild Tides Egg >

There are some things, known and yet to be discovered, that truly surprise or rattle Kyriel. However much is glimpsed of the unfolding scene on their arrival? Does not. He watches with what looks to be a struggle not to long-suffer sigh or laugh; he'll duck his head down, likely pretend to fidget with an itch along his jawline. That might give the impression he's embarrassed (which he's not). Kyriel almost snickers for those poor harassed weyrlingmasters, but his focus is soon on those eggs — and not to forget to bow. Which he does easily enough! Drifting out towards those eggs? Well… he takes his sweet time about it, while trying to pretend he's all calm and collected; there's likely a few darted looks to the other Candidates, Ligeia and Kyszarin included. He can't wander forever (or CAN he?) and soon he'll square up step up to Arrow of Fire Egg, reaching out to brush his fingers against the shell.

< Kyriel touches egg 2 - Arrow of Fire Egg >

IF YOU LIKE PINA COLADAS ALL OVER YOUR FACE— wait, that's not how the song goes, but that's something akin to R'hyn's reality as he hoists Risali a little higher on his back whilst trying to sidestep the sudden attention of not one, but two of Xanadu's finest (read: most obnoxious) dragons. « I DON'T BELIEVE THEY BROUGHT ENOUGH TO SHARE, » comes a bright gold and clanging tenor as Xermiltoth turns his attention to the candidates instead, affecting a draconic sulk that manifests in a sand-swirling snuffle around their ankles. LIGEIA'S ANKLES? THE ANKLES OF THOSE AMONGST HIS RIDER'S KIN? Hard to tell, but he meanders rudely amongst them until curling himself up near the stands. IS HE POINTING TONGUE BLEPS AT THOSE WHINING IN THE STANDS? He is. R'hyn studiously ignores him, instead finding a clear spot for he and Risali to perch, tilting his weight to indicate she should dismount. GET OFF THE ROCK.

Kyszarin does not know you, Risali. He does not claim kinship. Nope. He's not even going to LOOK at you. Like Ligeia, he's sandy with beach-sand, and it sifts down from his clothing as he trails in behind her and the assistant weyrlingmaster who had gathered them from the beach. He casts a glance at his partner-in-crime, nose wrinkling as he shakes his head, then peels away to go and find an egg he hasn't already touched. Kyriel is noted, and the other Candidate's expression earns a bit of a grin; hey, see Risali? You're embarrassing even OTHER PEOPLE. Right. Kyn still doesn't know. Taking a deep breath, he pads through the eggs, then finally comes to a stop before the Exaltation of the Sun Egg and reaches out to place a hand upon its shell.

< Kyszarin touches egg 1 - Exaltation Of The Sun Egg >

"Oh. So, it's like that, huh?" Ligeia murmurs, eyebrows knitted some before she moves around to another side of Wild Tides Egg; perhaps the shell's softer here, perhaps she can find a better vantage point as if to peek inside. Two can play at this game - and she's already played with some of the best. Fingers fan out, splaying to frame sections of shell just so - perhaps to put something into perspective? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. She's briefly distracted by the swirling of MOAR SAND at her ankles, but that just gets Xermiltoth a quick smile until he's settled. Soon, all eyes are on this egg (sorry, Kyriel, Kyszarin, Risali, R'hyn)- well, all of her eyes are. Both. She just has the two - and they're open, rather than closed.

"Woah, slow down!" Kyriel breaths out, shakily both from nerves and huffed amusement. He blinks a few times, trying to focus on more than one thing at once — or maybe it's a reflex of the unusual feel of so much feedback. There's definitely a fleeting wince at one point, but he remains. He won't move away, his body shifting carefully only to adjust his weight as his hand rests, now fully, upon the egg. There's a twitch, contact almost disrupted, as he's jarred out of the moment by swirling sand — Xermiltoth earns a sidelong look, but nothing more. No time to waste on eye rolling! There's an egg he needs to observe a little more closely.

Does Risali notice her son's ABJECT HORROR (not really, but let a mom dream). Probably. Does it only make her laugh harder? YES. Which is why she's still laughing when she does, with clumsy precision, shimmy her way down to the ground from MUCH higher than she should ever be allowed to be and manages not to break that much bigger bottle of what is clearly rum as she dismounts. She cradles it in one arm, skirts her way around her counterpart, and then holds up that second drink for R'hyn. "Bets one one of them saying a bad word or crying," comes NOT UNDER HER BREATH ENOUGH. Do her eyes LOCK ON HER SON? They do. But he's busy with an egg so it doesn't matter. There's also the matter of Leirith, who takes her cues from Xermiltoth, apparently, and sniffs the sand RIGHT NEAR KYRIEL before stalking after the bronze and PLOPPING HERSELF ON HIM. « LOOK AT THEM. THEY'RE ONLY SLIGHTLY LESS DISAPPOINTING TONIGHT THAN THEY WERE YESTERDAY. WHAT A BUNCH OF BADASSESS. » Don't mind her, just bleeding into the background and watching.

With a loud whomph and a burst of sand, Kyszarin's ass hits the ground, his eyes flying open, shocked and startled. "What the - " He barely keeps the oath between his teeth; normally he wouldn't care, but there's tiny ears up in the Galleries. Hissing through his teeth, he scurries back to his feet, brushing the heated, stinging sands hurriedly from thighs exposed by the bathing suit he'd been wearing on the beach. "Ow, ouch, you little…" Trailing off, he glares at the egg, holding his hand before him and flexing his fingers as if trying to decide if it's worth the chance of falling onto those HOT SANDS again. In the end, though, he rests his palm back upon the curve of the shell, gritting his teeth and locking himself upright. He's READY. His body is READY. So he thinks.

Silence. Focus. Intensity. Those words define Ligeia for a few long moments- until she turns her head to muffle a laugh in her shoulder. It's a hard laugh, the kind of laughter that might well leave her doubling over if she doesn't catch herself. It's a little shaky for a moment, but she does get herself together. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not laughing at you," is half-gasped, half-laughed, the words meant for the egg, but probably carrying. "You remind me- it's okay. I get it. I get it." Wild Tides Egg is in her sights for a little longer yet, but whatever she has to say to it is spoken mind-to-shell (or, at least, an attempt is made.)

Izobet hangs back from the eggs when she arrives near the tail end of candidates, staring over at Leirith because she can't remember if she bowed the last time she was here. And apparently only decides to sort of bow now once she's already walking toward an egg and nearly trips on a dip in the sand. Growing into your limbs is hard, okay?! Fortunately there are no facefuls of sand before she's making her way to the safety (really?) of an egg she hasn't met yet. "Hello," she says to the Lazing in the Sun egg as she settles in to feel its shell.

< Izobet touches egg 3 - Lazing in the Sun Egg >

Kyriel squints, expression halfway between another grimace and a look of bemusement. "Alright, so you're not going to slow down with the prying…" Does he have the answers? MAYBE. Was he about to entertain the presence and send some thoughts back in return? Definitely. Only, "… where'd you go?" he mutters, mildly perplexed as he cants his head to the side; as though he might visually track where said presence fled. Engrossed as he is, Leirith can sniff at those sands and Kyriel will twitch again, disrupted and an attempt at a subtle movement towards the retreating gold. Was that a 'shoo' gesture from his free hand!? IT WAS. Such audacity! Such nerves. Or maybe Kyriel was just trying to shake out that latest experience and get back to placing both hands (gently!) upon the egg in front of him. "Let's see if you're still there…" Final words?

Maybe not so ready. Kyszarin winces, flinching away from the Exaltation of the Sun Egg, although his hand remains firmly planted upon its rotund belly. Whatever's going on here, it's all in his head - or, perhaps, his mind, but it's definitely getting to him. He says nothing; there's nothing to say. Turning his head away, he squeezes his eyes shut, cupping his head in his free hand as he gives whatever dragon resides within this shell one last chance to find what it's looking for before he continues his own search.

R'hyn possesses at least a fragment of Risali's talent - he might be wearing half of his alcohol, but at least he's taking his glass without making further mess of himself. "Mmm," is his initial reaction to her bet, momentarily focused on flicking crushed ice from his person before glancing around. "Alright, one drink for either of those. Two drinks for falling on their ass—" WELP. R'hyn's the cat that got the canary as no sooner do the words leave his lips than Kyszarin's butt finds sand, and he's lifting his glass to take one, then two delicate sips from it. "Damn, almost got another," is observed of Izobet's tripping and listen IT COUNTS even if it isn't egg based, SHUSH, but she sticks the landing (10.0! 9.8! 9.9!) and R'hyn's attention goes back to his companion's. "Also can I say this is really weird?" An image flickers from his dragon to hers, wordless as Xermiltoth's wing wiggles out from under Leirith before draping over her fabulous mustard form. « QUITE. »

This time, Ligeia leans in enough to touch forehead to shell, her breathing slow and steady and just at the edge of sounding like a person preparing for sleep - or trying to be as quiet as possible to hear an important whisper. "Okay," is barely breathed, her earlier mirth draining away in short order, replaced with a sobriety that sits comfortably enough on her face. "Thank you." Affection marks the passage of her palm, a final stroke given before she pulls back. Hands are shaken out, there's a li'l shimmydance in place as if to shed the vestiges of A Moment from her nerves, and then it's off to meet Unpredictable Winds Egg on this elemental (egg-lemental?) tour.

< Ligeia touches egg 5 - Unpredictable Winds Egg >

"My head." Kyszarin's words are a whisper as he drags himself away from the egg, his hand falling limp from its shell as the other cradles his head still against a sudden pounding that slowly tapers off. "Ugh." Stumbling away another step, he pauses and drags in several shaky breaths, trying to clear his mind of the static and mayhem. Eventually, his eyes clear, and though he casts an irritated glance at that last egg, he pays it no more attention other than to give it a wide berth, whispering, "Pass on it," to another Candidate who wanders past him in its direction. Then, without waiting to see if they take his advice, he winds his way through the clutch, waiting for an egg he has yet to have visited to open to his touch.

"Oh, wow, okay. You're a little full of yourself." But, like, Izobet doesn't make that sound like a bad thing. It's just a thing. And she definitely doesn't have a tail to tuck and run even if she was the sort of person to do that sort of thing. So, sorry little egg, she's just going to keep on touching on for now, not dissuaded so easily by disembodied contempt. "Let me iiiin." Figuratively, of course.

Ah, and so it ends on that note! Kyriel withdraws his touch, gaze still fixated on the egg before him, his expression now fallen to a more neutral mask; perhaps he is not ready to answer much of what was ask. He might not know himself, what those answers are, and he's not about to mull over it for long! Still, it nags a little, even as he straightens and takes a moment to orient himself. It doesn't take long for him to decide on the next — though he'll pause on overhearing Kyszarin. Instant curiosity lights Kyriel's eyes, a darted look to said egg giving him away. Only his path does not draw him there immediately; it's to another that he is drawn first and his hand reaches out to lay gently on the shell of the Light as Air Egg.

< Kyriel touches egg 4 - Light as Air Egg >

< Kyszarin touches egg 2 - Arrow of Fire Egg >

Risali, as is her sacred duty, also takes two sips. THANKS FOR THE REASON, BROTHER. "We have to chug if any of them run away." Because last batch there were quite a few monsters mixed into what SHOULD have been completely innocuous eggs. But EITHER WAY, Leirith is here for EVERYTHING that's happening, wuffling sand at Kyszarin as she settles herself under Xermiltoth's wing. « DO YOUR LEGS NEED ASSISTANCE, MINION?/ » But no, they do not, and Leirith merely laughs as Kyn moves along. « I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO GIVE UP, MY XERMILTOTH. YOU INJECTED OUR EGGS WITH TOO MUCH OF YOUR BADASS. »

"Oh. Hi. Hey." Breathless and breathy, Ligeia's wide-eyed throughout, her breath held and released as if following the course of some unseen rollercoaster. At least she's not screaming? (it'd be the good kind, but still.) Fingers spread a little more on the shell of the Unpredictable Winds Egg, fully braced for the hurricane that's yet to come - or will it be the eye of the storm? Whatever it is, she's clearly bracing for something, right down to the shift in her stance and the careful suck and hold of breath as she delves right back in - fearless and fierce, now that her blood's going and a hit of adrenaline's finally slammed home.

Almost instantly, Kyriel's brows furrow and he looks to be warring with himself between intrigue and uncertainty. "Oh, you're… different," says he, passing judgement of his own, based on second experience alone! He rolls his shoulders slightly, resolve set. "I think you know." Foolish, perhaps, to taunt but there's a hint of a smirk there too as he keeps his hand placed firmly against the hardening shell.

"And finish your drink if they throw up." R'hyn extends his hand for Risali to shake on these terms, chin pulling up just enough that his straw slurps noisily around the upper edge of his rapidly melting alcoholic slush. "I always wonder what they're seeing," is the natural result of their predictions, gaze flicking between candidates and their very different expressions. "It's been so long since Xermiltoth, but even he was so much different than any of his clutchsibs." He always wonders, especially when Leirith's comment is echoed by Xermiltoth's gonging amusement, laughter vibrating through nearby minds as he answers the gold with a droll, « I THINK THEY HAVE MORE OF YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR. » RIDICULOUS, INCOMPREHENSIBLE, UNEXPECTED? Check check check.

Do not taunt the eggs. Noted! Kyriel's features twist to regret, to a bit of wide-eyed surprise when he realizes that his labored breath is not just all in his mind. He takes a moment to cough, then breath in deep, before levelling the egg with a narrowed look; it's definitely a (not heated) glare. "More questions," he grumbles, going on to mutter under his breath once he's certain he's steadied himself (he'll ignore the way his heart is racing). "… and it's always the really hard ones!" Who even has answers to half of them!? Either he hasn't learned some lesson yet or he's stubborn determined to stick it out, so his hand remains. Just the one, which might tip off just how brave Kyriel really is~

"Shhh." Soft. Soft, soft, soft. What words Ligeia says are for the egg alone, reassuring notes being the only thing easily detected from a distance. A slight shake of her head precedes a shift of her hands, fingers and palms spreading all the more as if to embrace the egg - it's short of a hug, but there's a sense that she'd absolutely hug it. She's not running, apparently; she's here and here by choice, gauging from the face that she's doubling down and leaning in and has her Serious Face on.

Surprisingly, a faint smile tugs at the corner of Kyszarin's mouth, his fingers spread across the curve of the egg as he gazes down at it, tracing the curves of bold, bright color across the shell. "I am me," he murmurs simply. "Who I have always been. Just… me." There's little more to him, it seems - at least, in terms that he vocalizes. Exhaling softly, he shakes his head and waits with a healer's patience for the hatchling's return.

Risali takes R'hyn's hand and shakes to it, a hint of a smile lingering in the corners of her lips as grey eyes cast back out to the sea of color and candidates backdropped by the burnt-bronze and mustard-hued parents. "Me too." She always wonders. "You know, we are the Weyrleader and Senior Weyrwoman. We should make them all come to the office and tell us everything." AN ABSOLUTE ABUSE OF POWER, but one that Risali is willing to exert if it means that she gets answers. And then there's an inward draw of her brows, as if she's only just remembering what R'hyn said and circling back to it now. "It is weird, though. I remember when they were babies." Is that a hint of longing? Leirith, silent as she passes something back from Risali to Xermiltoth in the hopes that it will reach R'hyn. "I think I'm going to cry. Do we have to drink to that?"

For a little while silence had ensued up in the galleries while shirtless Zach and the littles watched. But really it's not all that interesting to watch people touch eggs and HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY SEE! So therefor the children of unknown number start fussing. Crying. Whining. Being loud. A voice drifts down. "That's it! I'm returning the lot of ya!" One must assume from that; that there is no more audience of Za'ariah and littles watching.

Shuddery, shivery, sighed; surely something's said, but Ligeia's voice is so soft that even her breath is enough to tear the words apart. She wets her lower lip and sucks it in for a moment, hands lingering on the shell even after the last thought is left to echo and the pressure in her chest lingers. Eventually, she does peel her hands away, but not without a muted, "Thank you." More words are murmured, for egg and egg alone, but the tone is one of understanding - the visceral kind that has her reaching up briefly to rub a fist to her chest as if to loosen something up. "Bye - for now." And then she's away, taking a few moments before stepping toward Exaltation Of The Sun Egg to lay hands on it.

< Ligeia touches egg 1 - Exaltation Of The Sun Egg >

Whatever it is that Kyriel experiences next, it's utterly unexpected. It's written clear as day, in the way he stares down at the egg, in the tension dropping from his shoulders and the slanted smile that eventually tugs at one corner of his mouth. "That's better," he muses, tone lightly distracted. His head tilts as if to listen, gaze now unfocused as he's lost to his own thoughts. Not for long, just a span of a few heartbeats and with a blink, his focus to reality is back. He gives himself a bit of a shake, though his hand sweeps oh-so gently across the egg in a parting gesture. Fondness, even! Kyriel is on a roll and he lingers just long enough for one last look at the Light as Air Egg before moving away. Does his ears be burning? Or is is coincidence that he glances sidelong to where Risali and R'hyn are? It's brief, because he's just as quickly looking away, his path now aligning him with yet another egg — this time his hand reaches for Unpredictable Winds Egg.

< Kyriel touches egg 5 - Unpredictable Winds Egg >

"Slow, little one. Deep breaths." Kyszarin's voice is as gentle as his touch as he strokes the egg comfortingly. He exhales and closes his eyes to better concentrate; if he is answering questions or offering up pieces of himself, he does it in the sanctity of his own mind, and without wasting his breath on words for others to hear. It's an interesting dichotomy - his restless irritability with the last egg, then boundless patience with this one. Shame it means his eyes are closed, his attention fixed on the egg before him - he might have warned poor Ligeia.

Izobet strokes her fingertips along her egg's shell and this seems much better. More pleasant anyway. Maybe whoever is inside the egg is full of themselves, but at least she can offer something to the mix to make it interesting for it. "I know you won't remember this, but I'll make sure to let you know how perfect you are when you come out to find your person and meet everyone, okay?"

All things considered, maybe Ligeia doesn't need the warning - but, then, she's only just acquainted herself with Exaltation Of The Sun Egg and who's to say a warning would even be heeded? There's a faint twitching of her forehead and eyebrows at something or another, but her eyes are shut for this one, and whatever it is- it's coming in fast. Breath is sucked in with a hiss and while the entirety of herself tenses up as if awaiting some kind of impact - there's also a deeper understanding that this, whatever it is, is not real. And yet- well, the body is a dumb thing, still controlled by a nervous system that can't differentiate between real and not real, so her heart races even while she holds on, Serious Face in place again while she rides it out.

"I envy you," Kyszarin murmurs, his voice just a bit hoarse as he draws himself up, up, and out of the communion, shaking his head slightly to clear it of the last vestiges of that touch. He lifts his hand away from the egg and absently rubs his fingers through his tight-packed curls, his storm-blue eyes hazy for a moment as they open, before they sharpen and focus in on the rest of the Sands. He winces to see Ligeia at that egg - but he says nothing to her, unwilling to interfere when it's already too late. Instead, he'll shove his hands in his pockets and wander off, mulling over these latest impressions - no pun intended - of the dragonets within these eggs.

Kyriel is caught off guard again, lulled back to being too relaxed by the last experience with the previous egg. There is a full grimace this time, even the flash of teeth, not so much pained as it is reflexive. There was a lot to unpack in that first introduction and enough that it's rendered even his absentminded mutterings to silence. Heavy silence, though even as he frowns, doubtful and not entirely certain on where this presence is leading — his hand remains.

R'hyn's laugh rings true, fingers steeping around his glass. "As far as abuses of power goes, that's one I'm here for," he says as though that isn't something he does in a dozen harmless ways every day, breaking the rules that need breaking for a better outcome. OR YOU KNOW. INDULGENCE OF BONE-DEEP CURIOSITY. "Either that or bribe a dragonhealer for their reports. One of them has to have a sweet tooth." He playfully contemplates this until Risali joins him in reminiscience and YEP KYRIEL THOSE ARE YOUR EARS BURNIN' because he's definitely amongst those R'hyn's eyes fall on as one arm loops around Risali's shoulders, gently pulling her in against his side before— NOOGIE. THAT'S ENOUGH OF THAT, R'hyn came out to have a good time and he's suddenly feeling so sappy right now, and we can't have that. "Maybe they'll regret it and wait for dragons that aren't… you know…" XERMILTOTH'S AND LEIRITH'S, intimated with a jerk of his eyes away from a wandering candidate, towards where his big dumb bronze is mleming his tongue over Leirith's headknobs. "Gross."

It is too late, but that's how it goes, sometimes. In for a thirty-second mark, in for a pound. Ligeia remains, though, all concentration and thought, contemplation warring with an impatience of her own that's slow to percolate and drawn from a place that may or may not actually be egg-adjacent. Breath is released, lungs fully emptied, everything squeezed out until she can recover her breathing cadence again. Calm is restored; balance reclaimed. Hands move a little, as if a new location will allow for a different result? But, no, that might be madness. Oh well. Exaltation Of The Sun Egg is the center of her world for now.

Who was betting on cursing? Because Kyriel does, while suspiciously sounding like he's emotionally choked up. TWO FOR ONE? Swearing and crying — okay, not that but CLOSE ENOUGH with getting all misty-eyed. Which he definitely tries to hide, once he's aware of it, by bowing his head. He won't touch his forehead to the egg, but his other hand definitely joins the other. He exhales, long and heavy, and appears a little more grounded for it. "Promise kept," he murmurs under his breath. He didn't go anywhere~

Izobet sneezes like she just got a faceful of something, but she doesn't even seem taken aback by the sensation. Rather, the girl seems excited by whatever has just been shared between the two of them. Or, well, at her, anyway. "I won't disappoint you!" she assures the egg, glancing over in Leirith's direction like she's somehow also involved in ways that aren't, you know, the obvious ways. One more little tickle of fingers and then Izobet is dusting sand off of herself and looking like she's not sure she has it in her to feel up anyone else.

A shake of her head follows, a half-exasperated laugh shaken loose. But, Ligeia bears through it otherwise, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness. It's hard to say. But then it seems to be done and she murmurs, "Thank you," because that only seems right, "but maybe- maybe learn to take a breath, eh?" A farewell pat follows, then a little shimmyshake dance to work the kinks out of her nerves. And while there are others around - Izobet and Kyriel and Risali and R'hyn and Kyszarin - she moves away to find a few moments alone to process, well, everything. It's a lot.

Oh, oh no. Kyriel was not ready for that, for any of it and in the moment, he is too stunned by the onslaught of the experience to truly react. By the time he's released, the details are already slipping away, but that echo remains — and it is enough. SO MUCH FOR NO TEARS! He's likely not aware they're even there, caught up as he is in staggering back as though burned. Yet he doesn't immediately flee turn away, straightening slowly, unnerved, his gaze locked on that egg. Not quite glaring, while he shakes off the remnants of what still lingers. Kyriel is D O N E now, definitely hitting and surpassing his limit of tolerance for this experience. Habit might have him turning to Risali and R'hyn by habit, but he stops himself midstep and turns to follow in the wake of the other Candidates instead.

As things begin to slow, Kyszarin draws in a deep breath. Now is as good a time as any to slip away. His eyes track towards Risali and R'hyn and he nods quietly to both of them before shoving his hands in the pockets of his swim-shorts and shuffling his way from the Sands. He's not the only one leaving; only one of several who have suffered enough emotional upheval and mental mania for one day. Two left to explore; he will. Someday. But not this day.

OH NO. THERE'S SO MUCH NOISE IN RISALI'S RL THAT THE PLAYER IS TRYING TO KEEP UP but Risali is getting noogied and making an NYAAAT sound as she shoves at R'hyn's side and then gives him some of these fresh SKIPPITY BAPS when she breaks free, hair a mess, glasses askew. "We act at dawn," she says, her conviction for abusing rules. Leirith? She's ENJOYING those knob-bleps, turning her face to try and lick Xermiltoth as he licks her until they're definitely being, "Super gross," and then her eyes are falling on Kyriel. Give her a moment of hesitation, and then she's shoving her drink into the Weyrleader's chest. "Hold this," comes just as she takes off after her son. WHO CARES IF SHE EMBARRASSES HIM? It's hard to override her need to be a mother. And anyway, it's time. The weyrlingmasters are calling to an end of the touching and shooing candidates off of the sands for the night. Risali leaves R'hyn to linger for as long as he wants, until Ila'den inevitably comes to retrieve him, too.

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