Kairoikyriath's and Saburath's Clutching, June 28, 2015

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.

<Sands> It's midday at Xanadu Weyr when an egg-heavy Kairoikyriath abruptly ceases to lounge and begins lumber to her feet, nosing about in the sand in her immediate vicinity. While repairs are still ongoing, a patch of sand just large enough for the gold and her eggs has been thoroughly dried. Is it cramped? Yes. Does Kairoikyriath seem happy about the extra confinement? Of course not. But repairs are still ongoing, and while the fractured ceiling seems near to complete, the layers of sand still hold the dampness of flooding. The heating coils which rest beneath the sands are next on the repairs list but it seems that workers won't have the luxury of an extra seven to dry the sands completely. Kairoikyriath is ready, so the cramped corner of the sands — sadly not the best view from the galleries — will have to suffice. As the pale queen begins digging out a spot for her first egg, her rider is nowhere to be seen. But eggs wait for no (wo)man, it seems, as the queen wastes no time in producing her first.

Raise Your Hands to the Sky Gods Egg
A barren wasteland of lifeless, arid desert stretches seamlessly around this shell. Every so often the parched and cracked terrain show signs of the world that was. Mostly intact skeletons of sea creatures that are long ago extinct, jut out of dunes in the ever shifting sands. Shattered and scorched remnants of piers and pylons remain where the water's edge used to be. A sandstorm rages and churns onward, creating havoc in its wake and trying to obscure the decaying husk of what once was a large hulled ship. A massive storm brews near the apex of the egg, vivid splashes of liquid silver lightening zigzag through the dark gloom to threaten even more destruction, or promise the return of the rains.

Hair damp and twisted up into a sloppy bun, Esiae all but sprints her way up to the observation level, and almost immediately regrets it. Wincing heavily, she presses one hand against a very bandaged shoulder, rolling it gently as she finds herself a place to sit. The view is, indeed, not great but it's hard to miss Kairoikyriath down there on the sands. Leaning forwards interestedly, the junior goldrider squints as though she might be able to make out details down there. Yeah, right.

<Sands> Kairoikyriath shifts around as the first is laid, sniffing at it gently before she begins to pile the sand up around the already sandy egg, protecting that still-soft shell. When she's satisfied that her first is safe, the vanilla queen digs another wallow for her eggs, this time depositing two at once.

Ignorance is Strength Egg
This egg is small and unremarkable, with no bright colors to give it any sort of distinction from the rest. Indeed, the entire shell seems to have been bathed in a shade of grey which mutes the reds and yellows that speckle between dulled black lines. If looked at more closely, those black lines almost seem to form the shape of small squares, the reds and yellows coloring each one like miniature posters. Their meaning is unclear — after all, this is just an egg — but the strange shapes formed by those primary colors are bold and seem to declare /something/. But even more strange, if one looks closely, there seems to be a shape that looks distinctly like an eye amidst all of that propaganda. But it couldn't be, could it? This is egg is just an egg. (Big Brother is Watching You.)
Tears In Rain Egg
With myriad onyx fragments sprayed on its imposing flesh-coloured dome, this egg floats in a mist of blurry lines. Sharing the same shades with the sandy ground on which it is settled makes it very hard to discern. Both close and very distant, a soft streaming sound seems to want to escape that crystalline prison and slowly becomes hypnotic, catching minds as they pass by. No touch is needed to feel the yearning inside.

Azchel is on the heels of a slightly older 'brat — excited enough to almost trip over her feet as she skids into the seating area. "Woah!" The girl huffs, wide-eyed as she stares out towards the best-dried corner and Kairoikyriath. Her friend goes bouncing up the stairs, but Chel elbows and ducks through the crowds until she can snatch a seat. Victory! And, oh /shells/. Just. It might not be the best view, but this is probably the first clutching she's been to and — "Oh, /ew/." A beat. "/Neat/." She…still sounds disgusted, though. Oh well.

<Sands> A redheaded blur streaks onto the sands, nearly tripping over the undone laces of her boots as she races to join Kairoikyriath on the sands. "You couldn't wait?" Innes demands loudly, in a voice that might very well carry all the way up into the galleries. The limp, damp state of her hair suggests just where she was when her dragon kindly passed on the news. "Where's E'tan?" Her gaze darts around for the Weyrleader, and then in a seeming non-sequitur, "I keep hoping one of these times there won't actually be eggs…"

Kiena joins the influx of people hurrying to get to the observation level in time to glimpse the clutching but she's slow going on the account that some folks chose to pause midway and gawk (even if they can't quite see). "Keep going!" the bluerider grouses while slipping around them. A difficult task, as she's also leading her youngest by the hand. Her twin daughters have more freedom and bound off ahead, chattering animatedly between each other as they go to stake out the best spot to watch (or at least, join others around their age).

Ligeia has been here. Long? It is difficult to tell. Long enough for the Fortian Dragonhealer to have made a nest of notebooks out of her seat. One is perched upon her knee, and she is scribbling in it furiously. Lips pursed, jaw tight, she ultimately ignores the people around her in favor of taking very detailed, very specific notes about what little she can observe of the clutch below. Hazel-green eyes narrow somewhat when Kairoikyriath's rider enters the sands, but if Ligeia passes judgment, it is kept to herself.

Darsce doesn't much care about viewing the eggs. In fact, she isn't even present - yet. The headwoman, having heard the commotion of the exodus from the busy lunch crowd in the caverns from her office, knows what's up. She has to make a hasty stop in the kitchens to set in motion the preparations they've made for the clutching celebration. Once they're underway she makes her way to the observation level, navigating the stairs in her heels much more skillfully than she did the ice in the clearing last winter. Once here, she'll size up the crowd, make mental notes who will need special treatment (or heckling), brush absently at the collar of her suit, tug her short skit into place and find a seat where she has a good vantage point to eye the seating area. She might glance a time or two at the eggs. Maybe. Maybe not…

<Sands> As one egg is laid after the other, Kairoikyriath takes a moment to inspect both, whuffling her still-shelled offspring. She's gingerly shrouding them in sand as her rider appears, and she pauses in her task only long enough to engage in a moment of silent conversation. Whatever is said, Innes heaves a dramatic sigh and waves her hand in acknowledgement, while Kairoikyriath gives a quiet warble and moves on to preparing for the next egg.

Thank You for Your Childhood Egg
There is nothing spectacular about this egg but what might draw attention to it is the distinct lack of color to its shell. It holds nothing but a sombre palette of white, grey and black and from afar the mottled patterns hold nothing of note, giving it a simple and tidy appearance, almost peaceful and serene rather than outrightly depressive. Perhaps if one were to look long enough, they would pick out some subtle details. A hint of grass here, structures not unlike buildings and other curious things and yet all in grey shadow without a hint of color to discern one from the other.

<Sands> E'tan is here. Not very far. And he's been here from the start. At least his body because his mind clearly isn't. Due to the extreme diligence of his very meticulous lifemate, he's been dragged on the sands just in time. And it's exactly what happened. The ripples on the Weyrleader's right cheek is a blaming clue of his extremely busy schedule. Yeah. Saburath pulled him out of his nap. "Am here…." comes weakly out of his mouth as he reaches Innes's side. It will take some more time till his brain works properly for sure.

Esiae glances up when familiar voices start to emerge from the general hubbub, brown eyes scrunching when she spies Azchel over yonder. "Hey!," the goldrider calls, lifting one hand in case the girl doesn't quite see her. A snicker is given for her disgusted, but interested, observations. "Indeed. They're… kind of awkward until they harden," Esi drawls, undoing her bun to shake out her hair in the hopes it will dry. She snickers somewhat when Innes runs in, having likely passed the weyrwoman on her way in. Waves of greeting are offered to Kiena and her kin, as well as Darsce when the headwoman eventually arrives, but for now her attention is returned to the sands, peering out as the egg-mounds multiply.

<Sands> Kairoikyriath pauses after this last, her whirling eyes focusing on this latest egg, so devoid of color. The queen seems somehow bothered by this, as she backtracks to her three already buried eggs, snorting gently at the sand. So many muted tones, flesh and sand and greys amongst her eggs thus far. But whatever she finds upsetting in this, her eggs must be laid, and so she retreats back to her last to cover it protectively before digging a ditch meant for three eggs, which she lays in slow succession.

<Sands> "E'tan!" It's hard to say whether that's delight in seeing him, or just pleasure that she isn't alone here on the sands. Either way, Innes offers a hearty greeting that only becomes more enthusiastic as she realizes the Weyrleader's half-awake state of mind. "Tell me /all/ about your day," she demands, but her smirking falters as Kairoikyriath frets. "They're still good eggs," she insists to the queen, voice quieter this time. "Those're just the prelude."

Borrowed Time, Borrowed World Egg
Hewn of ash and smoke, this egg has a dark cast to its shell. A streak of asphalt grey, as broad as the curved base of the egg, stretches onwards towards some unseen horizon. Above is only ash and dust and smoke, a sky choked by it and foreboding. Weak sunlight filters through, casting sickly shadows below and skewing details. Vaguely there are impression of ruined buildings on either side of that stretch of cracked and blasted asphalt and in the far distance are spots of fiery orange and yellow. Streaked through all of this are lines of black, reaching to the skies and joined by sloping wire-thin lines. Some stand straight, others tilt drunkenly to the side but it lends a clear image of desolation and destruction.
Is it Cold in Here, Or is It Just Me? Egg
At first glance this egg has surely seen better days, a bland, flavorless vista of a cityscape observed from above. Muted hues of grey and tan spread like little drapes across the shell's surface, connecting and forming a grid-work of building and streets. The ordered perfection implodes, sending firey explosions shooting gouts of flame and inky black columns skywards from many spots around the bumpy textured egg. Some of the once pristine buildings are now gutted ruins of charred embers with tendrils of smoke wafting with the breeze. Destruction and chaos thrive, creeping closer and closer to the few remaining untouched areas.
Hope is a Mistake Egg
Odd that this egg appears to be made of sand but it is just that. Reddish brown in hue, it seems to be primarily made of this hard, sun baked substance, a barren wasteland and desert where little survives. Curving across the broad point of the egg's shell is a startling bright band of clear blue sky with a few faint wispy clouds that do little to blot out the harsh sunlight boring down on the land below. Near the base appears to be a cliffedge, formed from the same sun blasted rock and sand. Below it stretches more sand and empty land… all save for the faint impression of an age-worn black hued road.

Azchel doesn't — quite — bounce, but it's a close thing. Her neighbors are less focused than she is, talking over the girl's head, but she doesn't pay them much mind. "Go, go!" Chel mutters under her breath, a quiet encouragement that isn't likely to do a whole lot. Or maybe she's talking to the belated E'tan. It's hard to know. The girl waves excitedly to Kiena's twins, and turns to Esi, eyes very wide. "It's so *gross*." She exclaims, either delighted or horrified, waving a hand and turning back with her jaw slack as three more hit the sands.

<Sands> E'tan tries to be discreet and walks like a shadow, nearly hovering above the sand. "Ask me again in about an hour?" The scratching of his neck is meant to both hide his embarrass and wake him a bit more. Everyone knows how busy a Weyrleader's life can be, right? He does returns her smile with one of his own, eyes drifting to look at the gathered eggs so far. "Healthy ones…" He's an expert now? Maybe just a touch. It's his second time after all.

<Sands> Kairoikyriath gives a loud snort as she turns around to survey her three latest, and there's something slightly accusing in the stare she turns on Innes. The Weyrwoman, for her part, gives a vague wave in the direction of the eggs. "There's some red and… look, they're /fine/." is all the woman can offer the queen, who snorts again before beginning to pile sand up around those three. When the latest of her bleak eggs are buried, she prepares for the next two which are laid quickly in spite of the strain, perhaps due to Kairoikyriath's eagerness to see what else she can produce.

David 14's irremediable Crash Egg
If perfection was part of this world, this egg would have been the ultimate masterpiece. Its oblong pale form, nestled in that sandy frame, absorbs the surrounding light effortlessly without any refraction, allowing hours of bewitched staring. Because, yes, this egg attracts more than the light, it craves for attention. It is made to be noticed. From apex to bottom, it is uniformly covered in a deep matte orange shade that emphasizes its soft silky surface, making it even more flawless. But every gem, as perfect as they seem, has a bit of ugliness. Just like the hidden side of the moon, a rippling flame of black smoke seems to devour the back of it, carrying ashes to the top.

Kiena has just enough time to wave to Esiae before her attention is pulled away both by the impatient child tugging at her hand and the commotion down below. Scooping up Keruthien so the boy can see, the bluerider also takes a brief peek at the eggs. "First time I've seen so many almost the same hue…" she remarks before trying to find her own seat. Oh look! There's a Headwoman. Here, Darsce. Have your (half?) nephew! Granted she doesn't go as far to plunk the boy right in her lap (she knows better) but she will sit down next to her with the boy perched on her lap and happily babbling away. "Any bets?" she drawls with a crooked smirk.

Big Bada-Boom Egg
A chaotic scene of a busy, whizzing future, this egg throws colors and shapes across the galaxy on one half of the shell. Colors blur together, dull in some places and bright in others. The other half of the shell is simply darkness, black punctated by the occasional burst of red or yellow from whatever flames hide inside that shell. It seems almost to be creeping up upon the life that characterizes the other side, threatening to claim that as its own. If one looks closely, there's a pop of bright orange capping an almost human form swathed in white, right in the midst of that lively chaos. Everything seems to radiate from that small, single being, as though it is the cause of all that life and the only thing holding back the darkness.

Ligeia, too, has noticed the rather lack of color displayed by the clutch on the sands, excepting the last two. Her hand pauses its writing, thick brows lowering with another purse of her lips. Tap, tap, tap goes her pen against the paper of her notebook before her gaze lifts to survey people in the crowd near her. "Were any of you present for her last clutch?" is asked without preamble, "Were the majority of those eggs monotone as well?" No time for nicety with this one.

<Sands> "No, tell me now," Innes demands with a cheeky smile that suggests she's well aware of how exhausted her Weyrleader is. There's just no mercy for the sleepy. As these latest two eggs are laid, the petite goldrider stands on her toes to inspect. "Look! Orange." That's… not exactly flesh or sand-colored, right? "And that other one has some color, too. See." It's a rather weak argument, but Kairoikyriath does seem somewhat mollified by the appearance of the Irremediable Crash Egg, as she takes extra care in nosing sand around this one. Then she digs once more, making space for several eggs to join the others.

Deception in Pretty Packaging Egg
This egg perches prim and proper on the sands, as pretty as a present if you please. The majority of its shell is ensconced in glimmering shades of silver and white, never quite the same hue depending on the angle of viewing or time of day. It's only the egg's far side that reveals its inner turmoil. As though torn asunder by sharp claws, small rips in the egg's delicate argent verneer provides glimpses of grey stone and blue-green glass just beneath the surface. Parallel scratches reveal similarly narrow streaks of loamy earth, fiery coals, and blurry blue waters. There's a certain sense that even the egg isn't sure which of these future selves it might become, its destiny muddled by duty and responsibility, and so it hides behind its polite, sophisticated finish, biding its time.

Fingers flutter to her brother's weyrmate as Darsce's iceblue eyes scan the crowd. There are empty seats around her (it's a thing - she's scary). One slim hand pats a seat for Kiena to take. And yeah, thanks for not handing her the spawn. She'll appreciate him from afar, though give him an absent cheek-pat. She's missed Kiena's girls in the melee, but most of the weyrbrats are missed - unless they break something. Then she'll DEFINITELY see them. Somewhere in the horde, likely near them - or Aschel is four turn old Dariel, likely eyes up at the roof, wheels turning about the repairs. The headwoman has wound up in a seat just behind Esiae. She huhs to herself, leans forward to peer at the junior. One polished nail taptaps her on the shoulder. "So… what happened to you?" Concern? Nay. That woman is TOUGH. Just idle curiosity.

The Eyes of the Oracle Egg
Opalescent blue, pristine azure and sparkling star sapphire, this egg is all of that and so much more at the same time. Playing with lights and reflections, it is hard to keep one's gaze on its bright surface more than a couple of seconds without blinking furiously, because of what it is: a set of piercing eyes melting into the shape of an egg. The bright waters of the twin pools see everything, know everything. No one can hide from that radiating light, a light that can solve the mysteries of universe and discover the true nature of one's soul.
Treasured Trash Heap Egg
Overall, this egg is less than entirely impressive. Mid-sized, it's a little rounder than most, nice and rotund for extra sand cover. It's a grimy, gritty kind of brown — flecks of yellow and speckles of red here, patches of peeling taupe there. Shadows dominate, cubbies of strange shapes in smudged colors barely visible. Is that a shoe? A fan blade? A pink avian with a long bill? Maybe it's your imagination, since the shadows seem to shift from every new perspective. A patch of wavering blue sits bright on one side, a strange rectangle of bright in the dim egg, while multicolored ovals line up in fanciful sprays in a smaller rebellion against the grime and grit. They're haphazard, the lights, but seem almost lovingly placed, weaving around the shadows and strange smudges of color.

<Sands> Kairoikyriath warbles in delight as she shuffles about to face these three, the sapphire blue standing out among the rest. She has a particular fondness for that shade, and it's clear from the way that she spends an extra minute nosing away at this one that the gold is already playing favorites. In such cramped quarters, Kairoikyriath is rapidly running out of space in which to both adjust her body and make room for more eggs. With a huff, the pale gold begins searching out another place, and then abruptly stops.

<Sands> And here Tani was doing his best to fade in and be unnoticed. A rather poor attempt, it's a fact but then he tried at least. Turning his gaze to his merciless Weyrwoman he does manage to look more alert, though his smile just a tad tensed. Quick. Find something. Oh look at that bright egg? Err…no. Won't work. Finally his voice raises. "Oh…you know…." And he takes time to talk, casting glances at the new eggs. "…the usual…paperwork…" And that's it. "Oh…Shards…okay….another needy Holder drained all of my diplomatic skills ad strength…I confess…" The grin is this time genuine and he points a thumb at the nearby Saburath. "This one is as merciless as you…."

Esiae has to laugh for Chel's exclamation, though she holds any parental comparisions she might make in. "Just wait 'til they hatch. Egg goo everywhere," the junior says, fingers wiggling forebodingly. "The sands turn into a hot mess." Not that they aren't now, despite their best efforts. Turning when she's tapped, Esi smirks, shrugging up at the headwoman (which she immediately regrets all over again). "Tunnelsnake was harrassing the herds up near the corral. Sony and I gave it a piece of our minds, but not before I gave it a piece of my shoulder," she says far too cheerfully to be entirely sane, but then, that likely won't surprise Darsce in the slightest. A shrug is given to Ligeia for her questions, lips twitching off to one side. "I wasn't around for the last one, sorry. I'm sure there's records, though," she offers before returning her gaze to the sands, the better to peer at that pretty blue egg. Ooh. Shiny!

Azchel has an impressive vocal range of distressed noises; ughs and eeewws and woahCOOLs in a constant barrage. "This's the first time I ever got to one. Ma never let me go! Said I'd end up on the sands and get myself ate." The girl reports rapid-fire under her breath, possibly up to Esiae above her, smiling broadly at little Dariel nearby and wiggling her fingers. "I dunno." It's a loud report for the scribbling woman, and Chel's head twitches to the side, watching the gold come to an abrupt stop. "Egg goo." She repeats under her breath, wrinkling her nose. Awesome.

<Sands> There's no such thing as unnoticed when it comes to Innes — at least when the goldrider is paying attention. "Mmhmm," she acknowledges with an amused smirk, her attention only halfway on her tortured Weyrleader. The rest of it is focused on the pale gold as she carefully lays each egg. "Paperwork, needy Holders… is that why you were taking a nap?" Those creases on his cheek didn't go unnoticed, it seems. But any further teasing is put on hold as Kairoikyriath pauses, and Innes' brows draw together. "Are you-" No, not finished. "I'll be right back." This is said to E'tan as she strides across the sands to join the pale gold. "Here, let's… you take a step to the right and one back, and dig carefully." And thus it's with step by step instructions from her rider that Kairoikyriath ever so carefully makes room for two more eggs alongside the rest.

A Handful of Berries Egg
This egg is built upon hard ground, coal black mixed with concrete at the solid, rough-hewn base. The dull colors whisper their way up the sides, half obscured by a forest of deep greens around its midsection. There's something dark about those woods, as though the hues of green disguise some hidden danger waiting for any who venture into their depths. When looked at from the right direction, it's possible to see a strange marking on one side. There's a deep purple, almost black mass on the shell which glistens when caught by the light. If one looks closely, that mass takes more individual form, with small round shapes becoming clear in the dark coloring. In the right light, it almost appears to be a handful's worth of berries staining the shell. From there the egg catches fire, reds and yellows licking their way up to the apex. There's a slight sheen to the top of the shell; a hint of gold amidst the flames right at the very peak.
Sudden but Inevitable Betrayal Egg
Of all the eggs you've seen, this one's the nicest! It might look like an ovoid hunk of junk at first, a metallic shade of grey rough and blackened over time as though from multiple planetary reentries, but it has a certain rustic charm about it that manages to be alluring all the same. The egg's base is decorated with motes of lemon and chartreuse, the colors so eye-blinding against the sand that they appear to glow in the dark. A hard, gritty splash of blood red across the egg's near side hints at a dark past, or perhaps a shady future, but for now it remains docked on the sands, awaiting its next big adventure.

<Sands> With this last egg laid, Kairoikyriath shuffles her way around to inspect these latest, giving an extra moment of attention to that hint of gold, and then those eye-blinding colors on the second egg. It seems these two meet with her approval, as she turns whirling eyes upon Innes for a moment and the goldrider's face breaks out in a grin. "I think she's done," the redhead announces as she steps away from the clutch of fourteen. To confirm this fact, Kairoikyriath awkwardly shifts until she can curl herself protectively around her eggs and take a well-deserved nap.

<Sands> Quick! An escape window! Innes is moving away to Kairoikyriath's side. E'tan shakes his head, stifling a chuckle at his silly temptation. He may be stealthily taking naps when he can but he's not the kind to escape nor flee. A sudden grimace makes his brows furrow a bit a that thought, one hand stroking his tuned chin for a brief second. But then, everything seems to settle by itself and he flashes another grin. "The recent blizzard was something unusual enough to face I…overestimated my strength?" Looking with envy at the dozing Queen, Tani adds. "Hard work always deserves rest…"

<Sands> Once Kairoikyriath is fully settled, Innes returns to E'tan's side. "If I thought you were that weak, you wouldn't be Weyrleader," she points out, before giving him a more forgiving smile. "Go rest, we're fine here." Her thumb jerks in Saburath's direction. "But /he's/ staying here." Because while Innes may be willing to let her Weyrleader off the hook, even a sleeping Kairoikyriath isn't so forgiving.

Darsce positively SHUDDERS. "See, now that's why I never go out there." Or into the woods. Or off the meadow path leading from her cottage to the clearing. Tunnelsnakes, avians, insects…critters be they creepy or cute, she'll avoid encountering them, thanks! Near Azchel Dariel catches the finger-wiggle and drops his head shyly before pointing to one of the patched areas of the ceiling. "My papa says a glass dome and metal gridwork would be technically feasible." Big words for a little tyke! "They were colorful, not that I noticed, though I was here for it," says the headwoman to answer Ligeia with a shrug. "I remember people moaning that the pretty shards got trampled." Her attitude seems to be: Dragons. Pleh. And the crowd is dispersing. "Finger foods in the caverns to celebrate," she says hastily and rises to see they've served properly. "Later!"

Ligeia nods, but the relatively uninformative answers receive little more than a "Thanks" from the taciturn young woman. She goes back to writing, hazel-green eyes moving constantly from sands to papers and back. When Kairoikyriath lays the last of her eggs and settles on the sands, the Dragonhealer gathers her things and wastes no time leaving the galleries. Those looking for her will see her beeline for the Dragonhealers' Annex, though considering she's a little nobody from Fort, it's doubtful anyone will be in pursuit.

Esiae snorts for the idea of Chel getting eaten, one brow raising over at the girl. "Shells, isn't your momma a rider? You'd think she'd know better," the goldrider chuckles, but then, it is Azchel. If anyone could get eaten at a clutching, it'd likely be her. "Well, congrats, it seems you survived your first one, then," Esi says with a twinkle in her eye before glancing back up at Darsce. "Aw, it ain't so bad. Just a little chunk of skin missing. Wanna see?" Cheeky! She nods, though, for the offer of food in the caverns, waving the headwoman off. "I'll catch up!" There's about a million other things to do between now and when she can let herself party, after all, and she heads off to do them post-haste.

Had Ligeia asked a detailed question, she might have gotten a more informative answer? Perhaps not from Darsce other than 'none of them died or anything' and an eyeroll. But she's gone - and in the opposite direction of the dragon annex (duh, anyone who knows her won't wonder about that). The word will spread regarding the invitation to join the party and that there'll be fancy edibles and wine to be had.

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