Founder's Day Opening Ceremonies

Xanadu Weyr - Meadow

A large, slightly rolling meadow is set high enough above the riverbank on both sides to avoid suffering from flooding, healthy ground cover and grass spreading out from either side of the dividing river. Scattered amongst the meadow are a variety of buildings, each with a narrow path leading up to it from a main, winding road. Some are set under a few trees, while others sit by themselves.

Stables and a smithy are settled on their own plots, while trees border the western edge of the meadow, and a faint outline of a fence can be seen to the north.

On the clear, level part of the meadow, a large wooden, roofed hexagon-shaped dais has been set up. The light-toned wood has been polished to a satiny sheen and decorated with garlands of wild roses and forest lilies twined with green vines and woodland ferns looped around the base of the roof and railings that sweetly scent the air. A golden glowlit globe hangs from the apex of each loop, bathing all in a warm ambient light.

Before the dais, is a portable dance floor of the same light-toned wood. Slender metal poles with hooks atop to hold glowlit globes have been thrust into the ground around the dance floor; these too have the garlands looped from pole to pole and twined about each pole to the ground.

Forming a square around the dais are gather booths of varying sorts and sizes - some with awnings, others with seating areas, and some quite plain overall, all decorated with the same flower and vine garlands.

This evening at Xanadu, the perimeter of the meadow is lit with many lanterns and lights, while Rukbat sinks lower and lower, and the sky begins to darken. A group of Harpers meanders slowly onto the stage, as people begin to gather in the clearing, weyrfolk and visitors alike.

Uthine and her green, Caldeth, have found themselves at Xanadu just as the party is beginning. Having seen a grouping of people, they land on the outskirts of the meadow to investigate, and then approach the crowd cautiously. The two of them don't exactly mingle with people, as it seems she's just looking around for the time being.

What's a party without a harper or two? Or ten? At the very least, two such harpers are evident with the KX twins, and bother are wandering around the party, neither causing mischief yet. Seems like they're behaving for now. Xhaine in particular is behaving because he's one of the harpers heading for the stage. Dun dun DUUUUUN.

Upon the dais, the lights slowly brighten as Rukbat nears the western horizon, and dusk begins to settle over Xanadu Weyr. A group of harpers on the stage slowly begin to play, a pretty, rather upbeat tune, the music echoing through the clearing as the conversation slowly begins to cease. As the tune wraps itself up, Hisolda steps upon the stage, the Headwoman looking proud as she assumes the center of the stage. "Ladies, Gentlemen, Holders, Masters, and Weyrleaders.. Today we celebrate a hundred and fifty turns of Xanadu's existance, and today we offer a salute to all that we have become in those turns." And with those simple words, Hisolda steps back and the harpers begin to play quietly again, as attention drifts upwards.

Jessamin ambles on in to the Meadow, shrugging a slightly oversized riding jacket from her shoulders. A smile is on her face, tempered by a slight look of concern as she glances about her to see the state of her former home. But no matter, for the time being… it's a festive day, and one to enjoy thoroughly! A wave and smile is spared for those she knows, courteous nods for those she has not yet met. Under one arm, she carries a bulky, quilt-wrapped bundle, and seems to be searching for someone….

After the morning hunt F'yr had a long time to clean up and get out back out, this time with the dark lurking form of Zaruath behind her, just on the edges of the growing crowd. His wings drag on the ground, probably from recent exercise, and his eyes keep darting back and forth towards the Harpers' stage. "Well, if you say you don't enjoy yourself, I'm gonna have to hurt you," the short brownrider says with a sharp look up to her rumbly dragon, still sulking away from the growing crowd. At least Fy keeps near him this time.

Sigam's been seen here and there since mid-afternoon, maybe helping with the setup of this, or the greeting of that, or the settling of the whoobie to the whatsy. No one can really say for sure, except that at the moment, he's leaning against the stage, chatting away with one of the Harpers in earnest. About what, who knows, but his eyes are lit up the way they have been all day (deviously), and though he's trying to be covert about the message he's putting across, he's definitely sneering in a way that's most off-color. Run, hide, lock your doors! Eventually he backs off with a wave as the music begins and sifts into the crowd to mingle and be generally devious, loud, and happy, the speech from Hisolda earns nothing less than a whoop. And he hasn't even been drinking yet! Sigh.

Cenlia is out enjoying the party, the girl dressed in pale greens, the loose blouse and layered skirt a marked change from her usual garden attire. Guess she has girly clothes after all. She's accompanied by a rather tired-looking Eledri, who follows his sister and makes the occasional quiet comment. They both stop to watch Hisolda on stage, and then make their way further into the crowd, waving greetings to those they know.

Far, far overhead, a pair of dragons burst into existance, blue and green mingling in a leisurely downward spiral. Okay — that's a lie. A blur of inky midnight careens joyfully around the patient green, until they land, and he stretches out on the outskirts of the meadow. At this point, the blue sprawls bonelessly in the grass and croons brightly at those around him. From his back, his rider is swearing fiercely, glaring at the tiny green firelizard who's clinging primly to a neckridge. "/Make/ me, 'shay." The man growls, finally, then swings down, glancing around for his companion. "Lory, remind me why we're here again?" Grumbled absently as he rubs the back of his neck, eyeing the festivities with a jaundiced eye. "Other than to make sure they don't break my damnshardin' dragonhealer." So saying, he glances around with a sardonic grin for O'rly, then ambles (read: stomps) off into the crowd. "To Xanadu." Is almost halfhearted, but the man can't seem to stop the little smirk that flickers. "Even if you are all insane." Grumble grumble, cue absent wary look for visiting candidates and everybody else, really.

As the music begins anew, the first signs of movement appear in the evening sky as the greens begin to cross the sky, wing after wing, dark, light, mint and forest, markings rather indistinguishable at this distance.

J'ed has already been lurking around the grounds as he helped to set up for the days ahead. But now his booth seemed to be in good order, and the smith brownrider has decided to venture out and join the crowd. It was good for business, to make an appearance the day before and mingle, right? Plus he rarely gets any time to himself these days, with three girls at home and a weyrmate pregnant. Right now he's just wandering about, trying to get a feel for what's going to be happening.

For the moment, the harpers are playing background music, giving the party a chance to pick up speed before they inflict entertainment on the masses. Xhaine is meanwhile biding his time, waiting to debut a song he made just for Xanadu.

The patient green in question picks herself into a far more comfortable position, lying down so O'rly can slide from her back straight to the ground. "We're here because it's his turnday, Riah. I think it's safe to say that if they haven't broken him yet, they won't in the future." The woman tugs off her helmet and ruffles short hair into disarray before noticing that her companion has… well, disappeared. Cue overdramatic sigh. "Okay, I'll carry everything," she mutters to herself, earning a glance from her dragon that could be amused. Maybe. Taking a pair of wrapped packages, the woman scoots off into the fray, peering around for her overly-tall friend. "Oh, shardit all. R'iahn!"

Amongst the greens is the dreary gray-green Evelyth who, along with her rider participate in a dance in the sky, the smallest of the greens executing the greatest feats, looping back in on themselves again and again, spiraling before they shoot quickly upwards, fanning out while the other greens begin their portions of the display.

F'yr gives a glance briefly towards the skies, forehead creasing slowly in a deep frown before her blue eyes flash over to her lifemate. Zaruath on the other hand gives the greens a glance, ruffling his wings briefly but otherwise looks completely uninterested. Apparently dragons flying for any other reason other than a mating flight just doesn't interest him. There's a brief annoyed yet silent exchange between the pair before F'yr goes wandering away, leaving the grumpy brown sulking alone on the edges. "Hey Sigam!" she calls out, just for the sake of finding /someone/ familiar in the crowd. Blue eyes glance from the man to the Harpers he left. "Not gonna join 'em?"

Amongst the wings of greens, ribbons of orange and blue have been tied to straps, creating brilliant streamers that trail out behind the greens and their riders, as the wings dip and dive, each having its own set of moves, never coming out of position, as they execute their display before they quickly rise, leaving the lower sky clear for those to come, arranging themselves in a high hover.

Hisolda has removed herself from the stage, the headwoman's attention on the skies, though now and again she glances towards the harpers, and then to the crowd that is amassing. As there's a brief pause, she begins to meander through the ground, softly greeting those she knows, offering a smile to those she doesn't, and all together enjoying the atmosphere of the celebration.

Jessamin looks towards the sky, smiling wide at the intricate aerial display. She simply watches for now, quiet and keeping largely to herself, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her left ear, keeping that bundle tucked securely under her right arm.

Sigam's eyes are devoted to the sky as the green colors appear overhead. Pausing in the middle of the tandem, the Dragonhealer just sort of stares, mouth slightly open, and looking entirely too pleased with himself. A familiar name, not his own, catches his attention first, and the scrawny greenrider is given a puzzled look. "Lory? Yet, she seems to be hell-bent on finding someone, and so it's the whirling ribbon-laden greens that catch his attention again. Almost. "Fy!" A great big grin spreads across his face as he extends one arm to give the brownrider a sideways hug, if she'll let him. "How goes it?" Mischief floats through his eyes briefly before he shakes his head. "I asked to crash the party, but they didn't advise it. Can't blame 'em, really." His eyebows bounce ridiculously.

Amongst the visitors, originally with a candidate in tow from Western, L'ton has settled upon the outer edge of the crowd, distracted by the display that is taking place over head. Tilting his chin up, his eyes widen slightly, offering an entirely unprofessional 'woooooo!' as he claps loudly, glancing for a moment as if looking for his 'charge'.

On the heels of the departing greens, blues appear in their wings, sky blue and midnight, some blending in with the darkening sky, while others still out brightly. With a flurry of wings, they begin their own acrobatics, the loops and twists an example of their agility.

Jaesriuth's eyes turn to the sky, longing quite plain on his expression at the aerial dance of dragons. A glance at Sanldoth steels him, but the blue shifts a little all the same, crooning low. Then the blues appear, and he *almost* joins them, wings shifting. But no — Sanldoth would definitely scold him. There is a sheepish look for the green, one that, unknowingly, his rider mirrors, somewhere among the crowd. But the sheepishness is only there for the briefest of moments, before a scowl replaces it. "Woman! Shardit. Can't put a leash on 'em, can't ever trust 'em to not laze around until you're off…" The man eyes the stage and harpers briefly, pausing midstride to watch them. For a moment he just listens, eyes closing, smiling a little, before the scowl returns, and he's off again. "Sigam? I hear you, shardit!" A voice. Where did it come from? Right when he might have gone on to find his friend, Riah turns and heads in a different direction, muttering darkly to himself as he weaves through the crowd. On the sidelines, Jaesriuth watches with amusement for a moment, then turns his eyes back to the sky. Humans.

The speckled hide of Adenylath is visible in the fading light, hints of violet speckled here and there over form, the older dragon taking no issue with his role in this grand display. A dip of his wings, a turn on tip, and the blues perform as well as the greens, each wing shifting around, the flight patterns crissing and crossing, and yet they never collide.

Cenlia has acquired a glass something or other, and has plopped down near the edge of the meadow to watch the display of colors in the sky. Seems she's managed to ditch Eledri in the crowd somewhere, though it's unlikely to last. The girl's four firelizards are perched nearby, their eyes also on the skies, little bronze Charmer crooning at the display as if he could wrangle scritches from someone up there. Or perhaps someone nearby… But Cenlia ignores him. As usual. The gardener girl's eyes wide as she watches the dragons overhead.

F'yr is sort of trying to look comfortable in the crowd, but the further she goes the more obvious her paranoia looks with her eyes darting here and there. Even though she was aiming for Sigam, she only actually focuses on him at the spontaneous hug, not backing away but blinking up at him in surprise. "They ain't serving beer or booze or something here, are they? I haven't spotted the food yet." She can't help mirror his grin though. After all, she got some hunting done even with one workable hand. "Oh, you know, the usual 'round here. Not as good as you apparently. Having a good time even 'fore the party started?" There's a giggle for his comment on the Harpers, shaking her head at him.

Mionarracth doesn't seem all that happy to be out on display, and in essence neither does Kitty, but the pair are doing their duty as they fly with the blues in formation. Thankfully, they don't have to be in the lead in any of the formations, but as soon as possible they shift off to the side to hover, situating themselves amongst the other blues to hide it seems. Then as the word is given they're shifting and merging into the blues.

Once things have gotten underway, the harpers start up a song that Xhaine had written based on an old Earth poem. "In Xanadu did Kublakhanth…" and the song progresses into how the dragon named Kublakhanth discovered Xanadu's lake by falling into it after a night of drinking, and built a beautiful Weyr for all the greens and golds who were in love with him. Now, the song is nowhere near as long as the actual poem, just spanning a few verses, but on the whole is a completely amusing twist on how the Weyr was (fictitiously) founded.

Jessamin frowns as she cannot seem to find whoever it is she's looking for, either on display in the air, or amongst the celebrants in the Meadow. With a shrug, she turns, trying to retrace her steps back to her 'escort'; a wall of people separates the two, leaving her to shoulder, nudge, and otherwise try to make her way back to where she belongs, all with polite smiles and apologies, if she winds up bumping someone.

From a group of young adults lingering near the stage, the song performed by Xhaine is the receiptant of a number of cheers and whistles, high fives being traded as drinks are fetched, before a shot of something is slide onto the top of the stage, a gift for Xhaine after his performance.

As the blues in turn rise to join the greens, the larger chromatics appear, the browns of sandy hues and magohany appear, trailing various ribbons behind them as they create long loops, spiraling in large circles upwards, wings wide.

L'ton stands on his tiptoes, glancing over the heads, grinning as the words of Xhaine's song filter through the chatter of the crowd, and as he spots Jessamin giving a push here and there, his hand lifts to give her a direction to work towards, even as he heads the other direction, glancing upwards now and then, grinning at the browns that he somewhat recognizes, even as Dhonzayth offers a trumpet from the edge of the meadow.

O'rly's developing the sinking feeling that this is going to end up something like a cartoon. She heard her name here somewhere, but she isn't sure where. "Sig? Riah? Oh, shards." Arms folding (which is awkward with her heavy, cylindrical gifts), the greenrider stops where she is and listens. Or maybe she waits. Either way, has to be better than wandering around blindly in a crowd, right? Maybe Sanldoth is rubbing off on her. The dragon in question couldn't be more sedated, appearing to be no better than a statue looking out into the crowd. No guilt from Jaesriuth and no pretty colors overhead interrupt her quiet, calculating vigil, except to look over once at her companion. A lesser man would call the look in her eyes scathing.

Sigam has given up on keeping up with the R'iahn-O'rly chase, head shaking and resolving to stay just where he was. "Not that I know of," the man says, beaming down at F'yr. "Or, I haven't gone out of my way to find it, at least. This is me in a good mood. Be afraiiid," he purrs, lips curling up in a smile that would be pleasant if one ignored the half-wild look in his eyes. "Food's probably off on the fringe somewhere. I don't have any sense of direction with all the people here now, but… Yeah," he finishes intelligently. "The usual, hm? So you haven't moved into the dorms or a guest weyr or anything amusing? I find that hard to believe." The giggle proves infectuous, and Sig gives a chuckle of his own before eyeing the stage. And just what was that brilliant piece of music going on? It was vastly amusing.

Saenkarith is amongst the browns, Re're on his back, dipping and moving with the best of them, paying no attention to the orange and blue streamers that have been attached to the loops of his straps, that flitter behind him as he joins the circles, banking as he rotates around and around, always gaining altitude before they level out at the top of the 'twister'.

"Dunno if I ever want to be 'round you when you're in a good mood /and/ drunk." F'yr squints her eyes up at the dragonhealer suspiciously. "Any particular reason I should be cowering?" Her eyes give one of their rolls, not even putting on a show of being scared of him even with those looks. After a long break of studying the man she turns her eyes back around at the various faces, eyes always moving and barely resting. "Oh, shells, 'course I'm in the dorms right now. They got more important things to rebuild or people to place 'round here than me first." Blue eyes finally travel to the skies and she gives a sigh at the display of browns above.

The bronzes appear even as the browns are settling into their own waiting positions, the largest of the males sweeping in as a single wing which then splits, separating into two which then begin their own elaborate dance, riders and dragons shifting from formation to formation.

Moonkissed bronze glistens in the air as Ryunth and T'bear fly overhead in fluid grace. There is no mistaking Ryunath for anything but a bronze with his sheer gigantic size. From one formation to another, the pair shift in time with the other bronzes before they turn to hover and await the finish of the others. Then on a prearranged signal the pair shift and settle with the other bronzes.

R'iahn is muttering darkly (and maybe slightly wild-eyed) to himself as he stalks through the crowd, not in the least bit drunk, not in the least bit capable of /getting/ drunk. Damn being responsible. Damn his dragon. Da — "Lory?" A flash of a familiar face, but then the crowd near him has caught onto Xhaine's song and is singing along, and the bluerider groans, promising retribution. "Shardit shardit shardit." Muttered darkly as he stalks off through the crowd, going to sulk next to the stage, arms crossed, peering up at it. He doesn't smile. That's not a smile — certainly not. Not even for the funny song. And he certainly doesn't glance with amusement towards his dragon, rolling his eyes. But then he watches the dragons, expression distant and somewhat softer than a sulk. "They're not bad." Is muttered to nobody in particular, before he's off into the crowd again, resuming his search — and grumbling.

The green and orange bronze hues of Alhenaeth show the position of a particular bronze as the acrobatic bronze spirals with his wingmates, sweeping this way and that, pulling into spirals that are uncommon amidst his color. In time, he settles into formation with the rest of the bronzes, head turned in the direction they came.

And Jaesriuth? He's now watching the bronzes with amusement, fanning his wings and trying to look innocent. Any *look* Sanldoth might be offering him are ignored thoroughly, as he wiggles a wingtip at his companion, mischief evident. On his neckridges, the tiny young green firelizard looks like she might have an aneuyrism, and tosses a controlled look at Sanldoth.

The shot of something or other was greatly appreciated by Xhaine, who retired from the stand to watch the flying show and enjoy the something or other. Woot woot, it's great to be a Harper!

The final riders to appear in the sky are the wing of seven golds, each one distinctive in her hues, each one with her own ribbons as they appear in the sky in a line, and each with her own flight pattern to perform in this aerial display.

"You're right, you don't want to be there for that. That ends up with me in a man-skirt," Sigam agrees with a low laugh, head shaking. "Which no one here wants to see again, I'm sure." He remains firm in this idea, even though he's smirking, and perhaps considering the prospects. Abort! Abort! "Be… cause? Don't make me give you a good reason." The threat is rather idle, gaze sliding back towards the sky to eye the gathering color formations. Most of the dragons up there are familiar, and the Dragonhealer can't help but smile before he shrugs. "Figured. Still, seems like I haven't seen you much in spite of that. I'm going on vacation, so I doubt that'll improve." Ah, finally, the reason for his fantastic humor comes out. "Me, a beach, and a bottle for a week. It's going to be fabulous."

Kilaueth leads the line, the senior gold's darker hues even darker in the evening sky, the large gold's moves rather simple, but impressive never the less in their magnitude, each long, sweeping wingstroke carrying her through her display, banking left and right before executing a wide loop and moving out of the way of the other golds.

Merkabath, pale as the dawn's first rays, is amongst the wing of queens, each move, each shift of her wings perfectly executed as she progresses across the sky, soaring, a bundle of lean energy, before she sweeps upwards, settling into the group of golds.

"Oof!" O'rly has taken to moving again, and finally, after all this time, she's succeeded in walking right into somebody. A very tall somebody. "Oh, thank Faranth," the woman breathes in mild irritation, staring up (and up and up) into R'iahn's face. "You stay with me from now on. We're going back to the dragons - Sigam will find /us/ if he wants to go to the beach." Giving him little room to protest, the greenie shifts her packages and winds her fingers around the man's hand and hauls him off through the crowd, following her lifemate's visuals to take them there. Only once does she look up, mostly out of respect for the golds than anything, before she stomps right on back to Sanldoth, who is looking rather long-suffering in their absense with Riah's firelizard as her only sane companion. "No more of that. I do not fancy crowd-surfing for that boy." Grumpgrumpgrump.

Seryth follows at the end, the youngers of the Xanadu queens, her pale, rain-gilded hide reflecting the glowlight from below on her belly as she passes over. She follows the path set for her, banks on a wingtip to take her place in the ranks hovering in the sky. Eyes yellow-flecked amongst green, her Rider has had to talk her away from the eggs in the Annex incubator tonight, so the gold is a reluctant participant at best.

As the last of the dragons finish their moves, they all hover in still silenced. And then, at a silent command, the wings suddenly sort themselves out, each wing reforming itself before they slip off the way they came in neat triangles, leaving the sky free. And yet, the music continues, even as it takes on a new tone, one that is quite hopeful.

In a furry of blue and orange ribbons, the senior weyrling group flies through the air. Two separate groups, twelve of them in all, a mixture of bronzes, browns, blues and greens. Months of practice have them evenly spaced. The ribbon colors alternate amongst the group starting with blue with one group and orange with the other as the pairs get ready for their display.

Thea enters the meadow, having changed from her dress leathers to a more suitable outfit - a sweeping calf-length skirt of moss green and a matching blouse with intricate beadwork stitched across the front of it. Her hair is twisted up, a few tendrils hang down here and there on her neck. She moves into the crowd, stopping to greet people she knows and welcome those she doesn't. There's a familiar face! She spots Jessamin and stops beside her. "How's it going ever there at Western Weyr? Miss you."

F'yr opens her mouth, closes it quickly, and then her brows go hiking up high on her forehead. "Man… skirt?" Now she's grinning again, shaking her head slowly. "No, I think I /definitely/ have to see that someday. Gotta be interesting." She snorts at his 'threat' and raises her own wiggling finger at him, as if to retaliate. "Right. No reason. I suppose it /can/ put someone in a good mood." She finishes by flapping her hand around the crowd. Not her kind of thing by her expression. "You just haven't been looking in the right places," she says about her lack of being around. Her eyes swivel away from the queens and back to him, again surprised. "Really? Finally? Shells, that's nice for you. Maybe I'll do that too, and by the time I get back they might have a new place for me." She grins and gives him a light poke. "Well, congrats on your vacation time. Enjoy it. I guess I better return to Zaruath before he plows through this crowd." Or maybe she's just looking for her own exit.

Sunlight gleams off of the brilliantly cobalt hide of one Weyrling dragon, whose speedy wingbeats seem abnormally quick against his larger clutchmates'. Nevertheless, Cidheoth stays near-perfectly in formation, and Ontali shifts with practice-borne expertise in her straps, moving with the blue. A long ribbon, orange-copper in the sky, trails behind them, as they weave and twine in formation. Cidheoth only drifts into a more daring maneouver every other twist and turn, to his credit, and manages not to break from where he's supposed to be! He seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself, dancing through the sky like the acrobat that he is with less skill than one can expect of a dragon in his prime, but no obvious mistakes.

Niva has appeared in the meadow as well, just steps behind Thea, the weyrwoman's own leathers exchanged for a lightweight dress of blue and silver, the Senior pausing to exchange a few words with Hisolda before she's leaning against a corner of the stage, glancing upwards at the sky as the first weyrlings begin to weave their pattern.

Keziah runs her hands along Alosynth, so soon, only a couple more days left. With the ribbon in hand she watches the others and then it's their turn this time and there's a dip and a dive as Alosynth takes the blue ribbon across the others before looping back around, practically on a tail tip and tolling so they're upright so that they help complete the loop.

A flashy green dips out of formation far above briefly, but her rider has her stable in a few moments, as they weave around the pattern. A short chuff is all that marks the annoyance of one brown as she moves back into formation, while a dark-light blue wiggles his wings almost tauntingly. Their section of ribbons, bright Xanadu-blue, might be a little bit ragged, but they move with the rest of the wing with the teamwork that has been drilled into them for a turn and several months now. They could possibly do it in their sleep, you know!

Ilveriath and A'den are slow but steady, moving with precision in the exact pattern. Their slow pride in perfection, as it would seem from the ground, is played off of by Jelieth and D'ren's enthusiasm. A blue swings around and Jelieth dips down playfully, while Ilveriath keeps a steady course.

One can almost *hear* hearts stop as a midair collision is quite narrowly avoided, indeed. Brown and blue blur, before somehow both come out alive, and Nyela shouts incoherently for a moment. The excitement somehow dies quickly, but Nesyth sure is more careful as he wings back in formation, bright orange ribbon streaming behind him.

Sigam beams down at F'yr. "Yes, man-skirt. It's delightful." He won't say where, cough. "Maybe someday, though. In the meantime, you go see to him." The Dragonhealer lifts his arm off the brownrider's shoulder as she mentions Zaruath, nodding pleasantly. "If he settles, come find me. I'll be around." That said, Sigam lets his eyes drift upwards once more, where the weyrling wing is taking its circuit. They'll never hear him, not in a million years, but it doesn't keep Sig from hooting his approval from down here on terra firma. Gosh. He's like that dad at the game that shouts and embarrasses his children. Except for Sigam, it's his friends, for whom his concerns redouble at that near-collision in the sky. Eyes go saucer-wide for an instant, heart skipping, but as the dragons right themselves, Sig visibly relaxes. He's going to need a strong drink now, thanks.

Being tiny has its' advantages: Cidheoth spins and dances along with as much grace as he can muster, obviously very much enjoying himself. Tali doesn't seem to be having a bad time, and the others in the sky will note that she's grinning fiercely as they flash back and forth, barely holding onto the straps, confident in a way that Weyrlinghood has been good for bringing out, at least. Those who wing alongside Cidheoth might be able to do this all day long, but few can do it as quickly or precisely as the little falconlike blue, who dives and twists with a joyful bugle. Mission accomplished: Loop created. He waits on, wings shifting minutely as he remains somewhat motionless in the air, Tali's laughter trailing behind.

R'iahn blinks in mild surprise down at the person bumping into him, stalling a scathing comment as it turns out to be Lory. Of course, another just replaces it: "Well shells, woman, I was starting to think you'd gone off and left me for good with these lunatics." He grumbles, but allows himself to be pulled along, a wry grin creeping up across his face. "Agreed. We can open that bottle of red and drink to Xanadu's good healthy just fine over here." He makes vague 'here, here' noises at the greenrider as they disappear from the crowd back to the dragons — where things are saner. If only slightly. Jaesriuth is watching the sky avidly, crooning approval for the Weyrlings, only barely noting when his rider arrives back. He's busy! When the dragons manage to not die, he bugles a triumphant blast, heartily approving of the younger ones. Oh /my/.

Cenlia's eyes are still on the sky, and that glass she's sipping from is getting decidedly empty. Alas, time to find more tro drink, and reluctantly, the girl heads back into the crowd, glancing around and once or twice ducking out of sight of Eledri, who is off mingling with several other computercrafters, and looks dstracted anyway. Cenlia passes by Thea with a, "Hey," and then frowns a bit at the narrowly-avoided collision overhead.

R'owan claps a hand down onto the darkened stripe of hide along Nyunath's neck, beaming a smile towards his dragon before tightening his grip on the blue ribbon held in his free hand. The paler bronze flies side by side with his darker sibling, the two weaving in and out as the colors of blue and orange lace out behind them. Breaking off into either direction, the pair of bronzes, Nyunath and Ilveriath loop around and then sweep past each other, moving in echos as the strands of orange and blue are woven together. Then, A'den releases his end, and Nyuanth and his rider do a quick acrobatic motion with one folded wing and a quick flick of a tailtip to tie the two joined ribbons together with the others already forming the loop.

M'nol gulps loudly as the last of the wings finished their displays. It was time. Faraeth takes his place amongst the weyrlings, the single long ribbon dangling from his claws. This delicate maneuver is hard for the bulky brown, but he had been practicing for weeks with the other weyrlings and he is determined to give his best showing. The brown swoops, dives, then twists, twining his ribbon with the others'. He resists the urge to bugle in triumph… M'nol had asked him not to… something about decorum.

Flying high above the Weyr as part of the weyrling formation Kelioth and Vivian wait for the right moment with baited breaths. Eventually that time comes and with a light warble of happiness the petite green and her rider break from formation with their contrasting Xanadu blue ribbon clutched tightly in her claws, Diving down into the already present work, the little green starts to twist and turn her way round the existing ribbons, starting out with large sweeping loops and going through increasingly smaller ones as the length of ribbon, rapidly decreases with it's winding path. With one last flashy diving twirl, the green lets go and sweeps upwards, wings spread wide, a delicate bugle marking her achievement as she wings her way back to the rest of the waiting formation.

As the final ribbons of the large knot are tied in the air, and the final weyrlings return to their spots, Isobeth and V'dim appear, ducking through the knot, settling it over her shoulders, the green spiraling downwards with a loud trumpet, dismissing the weyrlings to enjoy the rest of the celebration.

Uthine has remained on the fringes of the crowd for the whole time she's been here, not liking the idea of getting lost in that crowd. Caldeth, however, gives her a nudge forward, rumbling faintly. Uthine blushes a bit, and replies softly, "Not yet…let's watch the sky show first…." She too turns her eyes upward to watch the display, a soft smile on her face. Only after it's through will she nod to Caldeth, and head into the crowd, braving it for a bite to eat and a drink of something.

At the climax of the airborne spectacle, the Harpers play an elaborate fanfare as a conclusion, and to bring the attention of everyone present back down to earth.

Faraeth lands at the edge of the crowds, M'nol remaining mounted for the moment. As triumphant as he looks, his eyes are scanning, scanning, scanning the crowd… for someone.

L'ton offers his own cheer, clapping loudly and offering a variety of happily shouts and whistles as the Weyrlings completely their aerial demonstration, and the riders begin to appear amongst the gathered crowd. The harpers are the recipient of a cheer of their own, a mug of something taken from a passing server, lifting it in a cheer to those gathered, before he's snagging some sort of appetizer in turn, munching on it as he meanders, letting Jessamin do some mingling of her own.

Display done, Cidheoth can't help but show off a little. As the Weyrlings descend, the blue does a neat wingover, dropping like a stone to land near the outskirts. Unruffled, his rider unbuckles herself and slides down, leaving her helmet and beloved jacket in the care of her dragon. Underneath are simple black pants and a clean, well-pressed grey-blue shirt, short sleeved but not quite informal. The girl heads immediately for the food and drink tables, and grabs a tall glass of fruit juice, downing it in one drink, and following quickly with another. Only when she's got something icy in-hand does she peer off into the crowd, a silly grin creeping across her face.

Thea turns her head towards Cenlia, but the girl is on a mission, she has spotte that nearly empty glass with a knowing grin. "Hey yourself," she says to the gardener's retreating back. She wends her way through the crows, pausing by Uthine. "Welcome to Xanadu, Rider." As she draws nearer to the center of the field, she spots Sigam and is within hearing distance as he's mentioning the delights of his man-skirt. There's an eyeroll from the junior. But then he's… hooting? Maaaaaybe she should just back away now. Instead, "Sigam." There's a wicked grin, "Still have that gift for you."

Hisolda disappears for a long moment before the headwoman reappears with a large basket, a basket which is settle upon the dance floor, the headwoman actively shooing people out of the way to create an open area. With a flourish, one of the kitchen workers deposits not one but two large bowls of meat nearby, and the top of the basket is removed to reveal a number of rounded firelizard eggs settled amongst the warm sands, though some of them are beginning to show signs of hatching. As whispers begin to slip through the crowd, people begin to creep closer, eager to try their own luck.

A mental exchange precedes M'nol slipping down Faraeth's side and giving the brown a loving pat. Managing to walk past the food as he heads into the crowd, he grabs a glass of a mixed fruit juice and a dainty before slipping through the crowd towards the eggs… and somewhat towards Thea, Cenlia, and Sigam…

Niva is caught by her weyrmate, sharing a long moment with C'ian, before they part temporarily with a grin, Cavin left with his father while the Senior begins to make her rounds through the crowd, passing by Uthine and offering her a pleasant nod and a smile. "Welcome, rider.. Enjoy yourself.." Niva's earlier edginess has seemed to evaporate as she continues to stop and chat here or there.

Uthine views the precedings with interest…and then she greets Thea in return. "Thank you," she offers quietly, giving a bit of a shy smile. And then she sees the basket of firelizard eggs. "Oh!" he breathes, finally giving the first real smile she's worn since coming here. Now heedless of the crowd, she moves with them towards the basket as well. On the way, she is greeted by Niva, and returns as she did to Thea, "Thank you." Then she moves towards the basket of eggs proper.

The Harpers strike up a dance tune for those willing to work up an appetite. At the same time, the dancers would provide entertainment for those who decide they're too hungry to make the attempt and would rather have dinner and a show. Xhaine is playing again, but by his twitching feet, he'd rather be one of the dancers instead. He's totally ditching for his turn off the dais.

The eggs begin to move more energetically, as if responding to the music, as one egg bumps into a second, which in turn tumbles into a third, starting a chain reaction as cracks cover shells, and firelizards are set loose into the basket of sand.

Every red line in the shell forms a crack and with a certain stammering urgency a splotchy brown flit emerges. Too much momentum and not enough balance sends him reeling and just before his chin smacks the sand he's up again and careening backwards, landing on his rump. Lightning quick he's up, again, you'll never keep him down.

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down Brown Hatchling
Every shade of brown is represented in the hide of the firelizard from dark to light, he is covered in speckles and splotches of all hues. Ebon claws poke out from strong paws and his long tail curls at the end, bearing a black tip, matching the narrow black edges of his sturdy wings. His body is thick and strong and bears a little bit of a swelled gut which is highlighted by the way his coloring shimmers along his underside.

A sudden crack, and a shot seems to practically explode as golden and amber flecks of shell fall away, and then there's another one gone, a hole forming, spreading, and then the shell disappears completely, leaving its occupant behind.

Gotcha Feeling Loose Bronze Hatchling
Darker bronze dances, mingling with lighter, red-toned hues, flowing smoothly over each and every bit of this firelizard's hide, red-bronze pooling most noticably along his stomach and tail. Darker bronze dominiates his back, his wing sails that hold gold-streaked tones, and his long neck and rounded headknobs. Nose is flecked with copper, talons with ebony, and the tip of his tail dip in liquid gold, each spot of coloring melding into the next.

The top of the shell pops off easily then when silvery-blue paws reach out and a head pokes up, the egg starts to lean. After a few moments of struggle the egg falls and pours out one gooey mess of firelizard right onto his belly.

B-Double EE Double RR-U-N, It's a B-e-e-r-r-u-n Blue Hatchling
Wide bands of dark grey circle the firelizard at the upper neck, chest and belly with pale blue-grey as the foundation of color for the rest of his broad body. His legs are thick and muscular as is his tail, balancing the roundness of his barrel-like torso. Iridescent hues shimmer in the mingled blues and greys, giving him a silvery sheen, the rainbowed hues more prominent at his paws and around his eyes.

O'rly looks much more content in the presence of her dragon, leaning bodily against the green's long neck. "I wouldn't leave you, Riah," she finally returns to the bluerider now that they're out of that mess, "though the sanity of your present company is still in question." Humor laces her words as she glances up at the man, eyes flashing smugly. Sanldoth has the good graces to seem offended (at least, Lory and company can probably tell she is), though an outsider would say she only blinked. "Oh, shut up. No one asked you anyways. If you're with me, you're crazy." Lory goes through the motions of an age-old argument before she notices the crowd breaking up in certain places. "Maybe we can find Sigam now. Come." The bottles are sat down, and off she goes, wending through the crowd with R'iahn very much in tote, for all the world her little (cough, very big) puppy tonight. "Oh… oh! Riah, look! They were making room for /babies/." Leave it to the greenrider to be oblivious to the fact that the parting crowd would mean /eggs/. Sigh. For having such a brilliant dragon, O'rly sure is stupid sometimes. And girly, for all that she tries to hide it. "They're adorable!"

Cenlia has managed to acquire not another glass, but a whole bottle. Yep. And some meatrolls. The gardener girl is making her way back through the crowd, booze in hand, likely heading for where she last saw her friends. The gardener girl peers at the stage with interest. She apparently was distracted by her quest for alcohol, and missed the eggs being revealed. So, as she moves closer, she looks only curious. From the edge of the meadow, Charmer and the rest of her firelizards have started humming merrily.

The dance was a fast one, and only a few couples were left standing at the very end. And now the Harpers, noticing a crowd gathering, decided to take advantage of the fact and go nab some food while people are distracted. Xhaine is off like a shot, curiosity getting the better of him as he goes to see what the ruckus iss. Firelizards are hatching, and he blinks at them in surprise. "Wow, that's… a lot of eggs." and some have hatched already, too.

M'nol's own fair appear, well, a few of them anyway, Bloodstone alighting on one shoulder, Jasper on another, and Fossil clinging to the front of his shirt, they hum a happy welcome to the newly hatched as M'nol approaches and mutters a quiet, "Wow that's a lot of eggs… and three hatched at once."

Gotcha Feeling Loose Bronze Hatchling shuffles, wings draping lazily from his back, a weird little sound escaping from him as he topples out of the basket and begins his quest for food, making it only a few steps before he begins to circle, not quite sure *where* he's going.

"Thea," Sigam returns, recognizing the voice before he even turns to spy the goldrider. "Oh? You know, I'm starting to worry about you and this whole gift business. It's going to end up being a tunnelsnake, and I'm just not ready for that," he cajoles with a sideways grin, waving to the weyrlings as they finally appear. The pause in music is received with a pout from the Dragonhealer, who showed no intentions thus far of approaching the warzone of firelizardom, though his own mini-fare was happy to poof into the circle and hum pleasant greetings. "When they start up, you should dance with me. That'd be a present enough." Not that he's /actually/ worried or anything, nooo.

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down Brown Hatchling is a rainbow of browns as it were, speckles and splotches all seeming to mingle as he flails in the sand, feet digging, before he flops over on the dance floor with a croon.

Jaesriuth is distracted, watching the dragons around them brightly, all but vibrating with excitement. His rider is — well. R'iahn's expression for Lory is briefly soft, then flicks back to sardonic, with a roll of his eyes. "I could say the same for you, girl." He growls. "You'n your dragon aren't the sanest…" But oh, wait. Who is he to talk? His dragon is batshit crazy. The bluerider gives that argument up for lost, and smirks up at Sanldoth. "I'm gonna agree with her there." He says sedately, but does make sure there's some part of Jae between he and the green — before he's being dragged off. Again. And yet again, Riah just looks longsuffering as he's pulled along behind the greenrider, snorting and swearing loudly when he stubs a toe on a rock. "Babies?" Does he…squeak? Yes, yes he does. "I — Lory, c'mon, I thought we were gonna dance…" The man mourns, eyeing the firelizards already present with apprehension. "He /made/ me take Ashaya, and look where it's gotten me. You think Sanldoth's bad? She's got such a high-pitched scold…." But obviously, this isn't going to help a bit against Lory's squealy girlieness. So Riah just looks put-upon, and sulks. Sulky sulky sulk.

Uthine giggles quietly as the firelizard eggs start hatching. Only firelizards could get her to brave such a crowd. She'll be back to her shy, quiet self after the hatching, likely. She looks about for something to feed the newly-hatched little ones. Oh yes, she's definitely going to try her hand here. Good thing she'd deigned to snag something on her way in, otherwise she'd be completely lost. So it is that she holds out some food to the confusedly-circling bronze, and the flailing brown, not getting too close to them. She remains quiet, since she's pretty sure the interested crowd is going to be offering catcalls, whistles, and croons to the newly-arrived hatchlings as it stands.

B-Double EE Double RR-U-N, It's a B-e-e-r-r-u-n Blue Hatchling is the quickest to his feet, and the quickest on the move, taking off from the center of the the basket, shooting towards the group. A loud cry, and he's shifting from foot to foot, anxiously looking this way and that, bouncing a little bit.

B'ky and Avideth have joined the growing crowd, the dragon heading over to curl up beside his weyr at the far edge of the meadow while the bluerider, dressed in his cromson and indigo riding leathers, moves toward the people, smiling greeetings here and there, and tilting his head to see what all the fuzz is about onstage.

Gotcha Feeling Loose Bronze Hatchling is bouncing a little as he continues to spiral around himself, before there's a bit of food invading his circle, a bit of attention paid to him. His circle spirals in the other direction, and he's snapping at a bit of food, missing the first time or two, but eventually connecting.

Thea tilts her head up at Sigam, "Well. Would it now?" There's a dance in her eyes already, "I'll take that invitation, but I'm afraid you're still getting what's coming to you." She's got a devilish gleam in her eyes as she says that. But for now she behaves. Uh, oh. There is no package in her hands, so he will just have to wonder about it. She remains away from the crush around the hatching, but eyes the chorus of firelizards welcoming the hatchlings. Shep hums from where is is around her shoulders.

Ontali is content in her standing off to the side, watching the festivities with amusement, for now. She leans against the table, eyes following the crowd, lazily sipping at her fruity-ice-drink. She's been withdrawn lately, but tonight seems to just enjoy the sound and sense of the crowd — no need to dive into it, just yet.

Xhaine eyes all three firelizards. Ok, that little blue he knows about, but… what are those? Xhaine eyes the bronze and the brown thoughtfully. Well, one's kinda shiny-looking….

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down Brown Hatchling does fall down, though, almost as soon as he even manages to get to his feet. However, he's righted once more, his own path taking him towards the gathered group, snapping at tis and that piece of offered food as he goes.

Whoa, snappy firelizards! Uthine's sure to keep her hands out of the line of fire, but make sure the firelizards in question can nab the food she's offering to them if they so choose. At this moment, she's more or less ignoring most of the crowd, her attention focused on the hatching in progress.

B-Double EE Double RR-U-N, It's a B-e-e-r-r-u-n Blue Hatchling is still moving quickly, ducking around his wobbling brothers, teetering this way and that, catching a hand as he goes by, getting a mouthful of meat as he does so.

Sanldoth doesn't show any good reason for R'iahn to be so scared, but the subtle tilt of one eyeridge had made Lory move that much faster in her tugging of the poor bluerider. He could chalk it up to her excitement, but she knew the deep-down thrum of her lifemate's irritation when it came. "Dance? No. I don't dance until /after/ a good bottle of wine. And I mean good. Benden good," the woman says distractedly, a rather motherly expression plastered all over her face that she usually reserves for Riah's children. "Just look at the move! Aww. Who said you had to take one?" O'rly lifts one graceful eyebrow up at the bluie before dropping his hand and leaving his side. "I'll venture forth, you can stay back here and grump." This she says with a knowing smirk, even as she approaches one of the bowls, sifting her fingers through it until she finds several pieces that suit /her/ fancy before she drops into a criss-crossed leg position. Now, about those little ones. Leaning forwards, the woman extends one arm towards the babies, adding more food to their line of vision. The bronze was closest, but she wasn't a picky sort.

Gotcha Feeling Loose Bronze Hatchling finds himself feed, with more coming, and as his attention turns upwards to its source, he croons, pouncing a little bit closer before practically scrambling onto Uthine's hand in his eagerness to get to the meal. A croon, and the bronze settles right in - provided his maw is filled each time its opened.

M'nol does grab a handful of meat, shooting Faraeth a glare as the brown rumbles. Clearly they have a different idea about how to deal with the boy's funk. He doesn't offer it to any of the hatchlings just yet, knowing that there were plently more to come and he should wait for one that really called out to him.

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down Brown Hatchling continues to wobble, crooning as that flash of blue makes its way past him, before he's falling over once more. However, there's a hand there, a knee for balance, and food is so convinient. A pleasent sound escapes the blue, and he clammors towards the food, stealing it from one woman's hand.

"It would," Sigam says with a nod, eyes glittering even as he affects an offended look. "What's coming to me? But I haven't done anything lately… Well. Nothing untowards, anyways." The Dragonhealer does indeed flick his eyes over her person, and seems to relax when nothing seems apparent that she's going to shove at him now. "They're creating quite a stink over there. I might grab a drink while they're preoccupied. Join me?" He extends one arm in a gentlemanly fashion as he aims towards the tables over yonder.

Uthine is almost surprised as she finds herself with a handful of bronze hatchling, and giggles softly. She does indeed feed the little bronze, collecting him and moving back so that others can come and sit in her place. She's not going to be greedy. Besides that, she's only got a little bit of food, and she's quite sure the little bronze will want more than she has on her person. So she's going to head to a place that has food within reach.

R'iahn's expression briefly clears. Oh, right! Wine! Brilliant, women. "Wine." He repeats, then disappears into the crowd, only to reappear at some point not long after. At his side is a skin — not something they brought with him, but the man looks relatively smug. "Benden. Red." He mutters, leaning down so that that creepy old man who looks like he might like to gnaw off his eyes for a good Benden red can't hear him. "Drink up. I'm saving myself for later when I don't have to go *between*." You know, when he's dragged the poor dragonhealer off to some deserted beach somewhere far away. Cackle. "You're disgusting." Is added as an afterthought, for all of the maternal cooing, but it's a fond statement. The baby firelizards are, admittedly, rather cute — but shardit, a man has to have some limits! Alas, those limits don't exactly work too well around this infuriating greenrider. He sighs. "Fine." It comes out as more of a whine than he intended, as the man snags some meat — but stands. Because he's got legs for a reason, you know.

B-Double EE Double RR-U-N, It's a B-e-e-r-r-u-n Blue Hatchling continues to run this way and that, until there's an offending shoe in the way, and the hatchling croons, shaking his head a little as he recovers. But, it seems that a leg will be no issue in this attempt, for soft, still wet talons are set into a leg as he attempts to get to that meat held so tantilizing, and yet out of reach.

Another bit of movement stirs in the basket, as yet another yet tips over, rolling and wedging itself against the side of the basket.

Xhaine hears the words 'Benden' and 'Red' and his attention is immediately diverted from the firelizards. He turns towards R'iahn hopefully, then takes note of the rider's disgruntled expression. Xhaine's not a grumpy old man willing to gnaw off his eyes, but he might be willing to use his Harper Wiles(TM) for a glass! Hmmm. Plotseses!

A jagged line forms in the stormy sky of the egg's surface then from it bursts forth a golden…flit. Her head held high and determined to escape, she lands on the sand with an unfurling of wings and defiant demeanor, though what she defies may simply be the pile of shell bits behind her.

Come With Me and Escape Gold Hatchling
Shimmering tans and golds swell up from the feet of the firelizard providing a sunlit-sand foundation of color that spans her body. Striking wings spill across her back in a more vivid golden hue that puddles out and down her flanks, fading at the edges where it soaks into her sandy hide. Talons of white with pale pink rings extend from slender paws and another pink ring forms a delicate collar-like band at her throat.

Thea just smiles a deceptively sweet smile, "Nothing is that easy." Does she mean the dance instead of… whatever? Or something else? Scared yet? She slips a hand in his arm, "Why not? Lead on, Condemned One." Smirk. Uh, oh. He's been tried, found guilty and sentenced already. The firelizards are viewed as a thing best avoided. And with Ruin to break her in, is that surprising?

Wastin Away Again In Margaritaville Egg does a little jig of its own, cracks forming, before it too is adding to the chaos.

Shimmy shimmy shake. Shimmy shimmy shake. And every shimmy and shake brings forth more cracks in the shell until finally a claw pokes through followed by a green snout. With a trimphant trill she leaps from the rubble of her too-small abode and fans out her wings then resettles them against her, surveying her new kingdom, yes, kingdom, now, where is my prince!?

Run-away Salt Shaker Green Hatchling
An exotic mix of green and white splotches covers the sleek, strong body of this little firelizard. On close examination the white splotches are made up of thousands of individual dots like salt thrown onto the vivid light green of her hide so thick in places that the green only barely shows through. Her tail is long and curled, bereft of white markings, as is one side of her face where a striated mix of dark and light green forms a fan of color across her jaw.

M'nol gasps as the golden beauty unveils herself. The bronze and browns are soon joined by a blue and a green, all humming even louder, welcoming the tiny golden queen into the world. For a few moments M'nol just stands there, staring at her. Then there's a soft rumble from the brown across the crowd and he jumps slightly, shaking his head, as he leans down, offering gobbets of fresh meat to the tiny golden princess.

Cenlia finds a gap in the crowd and moves through it, still looking curious. But as the girl finds herself near the stage, she blinks in surprise. It takes her a moment to spot the eggs, with all the people nearby. Eggs? Eep. The gardener girl attempts to backpedal, but alas, the gap behind her has closed off, and the girl is stuck watching the eggs hatch and little flits emerge with a bottle of booze in one hand and meatrolls in the other. Hey, at least she's got a good view.

Xhaine turns back to the firelizards regretfully when R'iahn doesn't seem amenable to sharing, just in time to see a firelizard's dramatic entrance. "Now that's what I like to see! Someone who knows how to make an entrance." Xhaine grins at the firelizard, snagging a piece of meat to hold out to her. "Um… bronze?" he mutters, sidling a glance to everyone else to see what their reactions are. Well, people are making a bit of a fuss at this one, so this must be a gold.

Run-away Salt Shaker Green Hatchling wiggles a little bit as she's set free, wings spread wide, before she's hopping down from the basket and beginning to roam, rocking back on her limbs now and then, as if to beg, wings trying to keep her balanced.

Come With Me and Escape Gold Hatchling remains settled in the basket for now, soft nose nudging the bits of shell that are stuck to her damp hide, shifting from foot to foot, trying to get the bothersome things from her feet.

O'rly glances back once, suspiciously, to where R'iahn has disappeared, but the man does this often. Daily. It's easy to ignore. A pleased smile is given to a fellow greenrider who impresses the bronze, and Lory is juuust about to wiggle a piece of meat towards another flit when— "Benden? … Ibriahn, who did you kill?," she demands softly, all thoughts of eggs forgotten even as she grabs the skin away from the bluerider. "Your mother's disgusting," she grumbles, torn between irritation and confusion even as more eggs crack. "So just you sit down and keep quiet." Xhaine's interested glance is met warily at first, but… well. Diplomacy has gotten her far in this great wide world. "Want some?," she offers, emphasizing the 'some' even as she turns around to find two more flit hatchlings. "Oh dear." O'rly is suddenly wary, eyes filling up as suddenly attention gets riveted in the young gold's direction. With her booze in one hand and meat in the other, she looks about ready to flee. "Maybe we should… I don't know." Hesitation, a glance back through the crowd to where a stolid green dragon sits, unmoved, then a quiet sigh. "She says we should stay. Wait it out. Some help." But Lory listens, and keeps her meat extended, flicking half-heartedly.

Weebles Wobble But They Don't Fall Down Brown Hatchling just can't let anyone flee. Particularly not someone with food that is so tantalizingly close. A pounce, and the little bronze is clammoring over O'rly's hand to get her attention back, snagging the meat, and if she's unlucky, a bit of hand too. Topple. Oops.

As if on cue, one of the Harpers starts playing a musical tribute to the ancient Terran song about a mystical place known as 'Margaritaville'.

Sigam twitches his lips into a pout, but with his mood, it's hard to keep up. "It could be easy, you just won't let it. You're too stubborn," he accuses teasingly, sneaking the elbow out to tap her side before angling towards the food tables. "Condemned. Now, why don't I like the sound of that," Sig drawls in a sing-song voice, lips curled in a wry position. "Oh, maybe because you're scaring me half out of my wits. Maybe I should run now rather than later." His eyebrows waggle, though, still visibly amused even as he reaches for a plate with his free hand.

M'nol can't resist giving a congratulatory nod to O'rly as she impresses the little brown. He did seem to have developed a special attachment to the buggers, but his attention remains rivetted on the little queen, whisting and humming softly as he holds the meat out to her, his fair humming a choruse welcome as well

Oh yes — R'iahn does exude a certain air of 'keep away from my wine and my Lory', doesn't he? But he can't help it! Honest! Here is a grumpy glare, but it's quickly whisked away by a somewhat wolfish grin. "I have my sources." His gruff tone softens in amusement for the woman. "And I didn't kill anybody." A beat, and eyebrow-lift for Xhaine. "Yet." Smile! See, he's kidding. Really? Well, one can hope. He probably is. He caves, eventually, and sighs, sprawling next to the greenrider and pouting a little. Sulk sulk sulky sulk. But wait — just what's wrong with her, now? R'iahn blinks at the woman, and stares a moment. "What's wrong?" Growly tone forgotten, he sounds genuinely worried, with a wary glance around — is he going to have to maul somebody? It's a little early in the evening for all that. "Wait what out?" A glance at the newest hatchlings, and a flick of the meat for the little blue who might have been eyeing him, and Riah is staring back at O'rly. "Drink your wine." It's sure to make things better, after all. And the little brown is eyed with amusement. "Oh, look." Snooort. "How cute." At least…he tries?

B-Double EE Double RR-U-N, It's a B-e-e-r-r-u-n Blue Hatchling has meat flicked at him, meat that is quickly snatched up before he's clammoring for more, crooning, rocking from foot to foot. Pay attention! And he scrambles for another moment, flittering away, before nails are dug in, to get attention one way or the other.

"Easy's boring, that's why." Thea says, her tone cool before she's jumping from that elbow Sigam is nudging into her side. She snickers, her eyes crinkle as she counters, "Might be condemned to something good? Like for instance… some kitchen gal could come up to you with a bundle of joy and say you're a daddy?" More snickering. "I'm scaring you?" She eyes him with glee. "My how things change."

O'rly is, of course, completely oblivious of this possessiveness. Her lips are pursed, brow arched, but she isn't about to relinquish her prize. "Why don't I believe you," she sighs after a long staring match, eyes drifting shut as her head sways from side to side. "Don't you dare. We're /visiting/. This is /not/ your weyr." A prim look accompanies the words even as his concern flusters her further, shoulders shaking in a shrug. "Nothing. Nevermind." She does as she's told and drinks impressively for a girl her size. The skin is barely lowered before something /pounces/ her other hand and proceeds to eat it. And the meat, though in the greenrider's mind, that seems to have been more of an afterthought than the other way around. "Owowow! … Oh!" Her eyes are watering even as the brown topples and clings to her finger, but she looks happy to see the wee thing beyond her grimace. I promise, she does! "Well, hi. Let's- let's get you somewhere else." Prying the wobbly little weeble off of her hand, Lory reaches back for the meat bowl to provide a more suitable dinner for the little brown, turning back just in time to see a little blue thing scrambling at R'iahn. "Awwwwwww, how cuuuute," she gushes right back, smirking as she strokes her gobbling little brownie. "You big fat hypocrite."

Xhaine shrugs one shoulder R'iahn's way when he shoots death from his eyes, then smirks faintly when a firelizard makes a BEERline(har har) the grumpy rider's way. Chuckling, he turns to look at the gold again.

Cenlia is nudged forward a little by those behind her, and is practically kneeling as somebody decides to try waving some raw wherry chunks above her head. The girl is half-turning, muttering something about her shovel, when bronze Charmer and blue Rogue flutter over to land on her head. With an 'ack' in surprise, Cenlia nearly drops one of her meatrolls, the food coming dangerously close to the floor before Cen manages to get her balance. Waving the booze bottle she's holding in an attempt to ward off her overly-friendly firelizards, it's only Once Charmer and Rogue settle down - on her shoulders - that Cenlia sighs and eyes the little hatchlings nearby. "Cute little things," the gardener girl grins, relaxing a bit and grinning somewhat as she spots some familiar faces. "Hey," she says by way of greeting to M'nol, the girl glancing around briefly, perhaps trying to spot the other weyrlings.

Run-away Salt Shaker Green Hatchling continues to beg, bouncing here and there, looking for a bit of attention, snatching a bit of meat from those hands that linger too long, her stomach slowly filling even as she's not yet attached to any one sort of food.

Come With Me and Escape Gold Hatchling seems content as she frees herself of the bothersome pieces of egg, toppling out of the basket, escaping from the old life to a new one. A dropped piece of meat is snapped up, and then she's bouncing once more, crooning at all those voices.

Sigam pauses, eyeing Thea as if in a sudden revelation. "And what, hardship's exciting? You're weirder than I thought." He unwinds the guiding arm from the junior's as he fills his plate, humming along with the cheery tune the Harpers are playing. Cue record screech. "What?" The Dragonhealer's face has gone from flushed with amusement to drained, eyes wide before he realizes she's joking. Or, at least, he really really hopes and prays she's joking. "Uh, haha, I've had enough of that already, I think. I'll pass on more baby threats for… the rest of my life," he concludes with a shaky laugh, humor slowly returning to his eyes. "Yeah. You get evil when you're in a good mood. Me, I just get frisky. Tsk tsk." The man's tongue clicks chidingly before he bites into a bit of redfruit.

Xhaine starts forward when the gold takes a tumble out of the basket, and holds the piece of meat her way. "Why hello there… you seem the musical sort. Would you like to come to the Harper Hall with me?" he humms a few bars of a song, his version of crooning back at the little damsel.

M'nol nods to Cen, half-a-smirk flitting across his face, "Hey, Cen, how's the garden doing?" A gentle clucking emits from his mouth, similar to the noises his older brother has taken to using to communicate with Hysk as he holds the meat out the gold.

Alarmed would be the best word to describe R'iahn, at this point — he's forgotten to aim laser-eyes at Xhaine, even! "Reilory," He uses his Wingleader Voce /and/ invokes the Full Name, stern, only a little bit growly. "What's wrong?" There's something of a longsuffering look, as he rubs his temples absently — women! Must they be so confusing? To his credit, the man doesn't bother to argue that he's grown and he does what he wants, just huffs and glares vaguely, making an irritable face. But then he's quite distracted from his friend, blinking absently at the little blue firelizard. Waiit. As O'rly gets up to go, he's left staring down at the little blue, wincing comically. "Aw, shells and shards." He doesn't quite whine, quickly stuffing the hatchling's face with more meat so he doesn't try and remove his hand. Sulk. "Your fault." Shot back to Lory, but it's carefully teasing, as he stands, careful to keep the blue from falling. "Shardit." Grumble. "What am I going to do — ow! Besides feed you, you obnoxious thing!"

"Weeeell, Prison wasn't boring." Thea resists the childish urge to stick her tongue out for calling her weird. The food at the table momentarily distracts her, "Hrm?" As Sigam is 'whatting' over there. Cue innocent surprised look at the dragonhealer. "You've had enough of that already?" She blinks at him, "Really? Why Sigam, how many-" She stops it right there, just snorts at being called evil, "I'm not wearing a kilt." She's amused but she stops there with her needling. Choosing something to drink rather than a plate of food.

There's a lopsided grin on Cenlia's face as she answers M'nol's question, "Garden's doing fine. Plants'll grow back, so long as no ovines got through." There's a pause, the gardener girl's brow furrowing a little in worry, "Shards, hope there ain't." The girl shakes her head, and watches those nearby offering food to the little gold flit. Cenlia looks more amused than anything. She isn't attempting to lure any of the flits to her, and instead takes a bite of her meatroll. Mmm. Rpgue, of course, attempts to steal a bite. Charmer, on the other hand, is crooning his little firelizardy heart out at the girls. Typical.

Come With Me and Escape Gold Hatchling croons back to those who are offering their own greeting, snagging a bit of food here and there. But, then it seems that that hand is linger too long, even if the meatroll already has a bite out of it, as the gold snags it, rather than going for the booze that is in that other hand. After all, she can't let that blue take what she has decided is hers.

M'nol's eyes fall somewhat as he watches the gold choose another, but he smiles at her, "That's good about the garden. Hope you treat that little queen well."

Xhaine sits back with a sigh, then notices the girl who the gold went to. Hey, she's cute. Hasn't he seen her before? At that other firelizard hatching? "Congratulations." he offers to her with a warm smile. Hiya.

Run-away Salt Shaker Green Hatchling continues to flutter, and then, as attention is diverted, there's a pounce to the hand of a young boy, tugging the meaty offering waiting there free before she trills, begging for his gaze.

Finally, Uthine's new friend has fallen asleep, having eaten all he can. She smiles, cradling the little bronze firelizard in the crook of one arm. Then she moves out of the crowd, back to her green, and displays the new addition to their little family proudly. Isn't he cute? She conducts most of the conversation with Caldeth mentally. However, Caldeth nudges her once more. There are still more eggs! "I know…but I don't want to seem greedy." That many? Uthine shifts as Caldeth speaks to her mentally. "Oh…well, all right. Might as well." She keeps the bronze in her arms and goes back to the group gathered around the hatching firelizards, stopping on the way to get some meat from a bowl.

The eggs continue to rock, sending firelizards free, some Impressing quickly, others less so, but nevertheless, the eggs continue to wiggle.

A wobble, a shake, and an awkward roll, and the With a Little Salt and Lime Egg begins to sashay, for lack of a better term, from its hold. Unsteady, uneven, cracks soon begin to form, and then there's a sound. A *pop!* and a bronze firelizard tumbles out, freed from its shell.

You Are a Friend of Mine Bronze Hatchling
An odd golden bronze hue dances over this firelizard's body, smooth and even as it consumes his tail, his limbs, his belly and back. Even his wings are unable to break free, as the golden-orange hues of bronze soak his sails as they stretch from spar to spar. His long neck and extended muzzle are a purer bronze, though a tinge of green slips into the bronze over his headknobs, a lime garnish.

Staggering slightly the little brown hops from the midst of cracking shell-bits, landing on two paws. A definite swagger ensues as he steps further from the mess, head cocked just so, point me to the wenches!

Captain Morgan Brown Hatchling
Like sediment settled in the bottom of the ocean floor this firelizard's paws are dark from the clawtips to the tops of each foot. A line of palest tan tops the dark color then a wide band of rich caramel wraps his legs and creeps up to his throat, underbelly and the underside of his long tail. Another pale stripe separates the dark caramel from the next layer of color that is a wide ribbon of sandy tan that stretches across his neck and flanks. Shimmering cream scales blanket his face and dust the top of his back and tail, like layered sand contained in the body of a firelizard.

"No," Sigam says with a crooked smile, "No, I suppose it wasn't. Still." He finishes off the piece of fruit and licks his fingers clean before attacking another. "I have, and I've already told you why. Goes without further explaination," the Dragonhealer rambles before promptly stuffing his face full of more food to avoid having to discuss the matter further. Not in public (again). After a moment of eyeing her slyly, Sig wriggles his hips and points down at them. "Neither am I. But I could be." He too takes a drink, one that is most certainly alcoholic, even as he eyes the gathering in the distance. "They're playing again. We should dance." Anything, really, to keep off the babies conversation.

Uthine returns to the crowd just as two more firelizards hatch. She's staying close to the middle of the crowd, not wanting to seem like she's being greedy. But while there are still eggs, she wants to try her luck anyway. She holds the meat she nabbed out to the newly-arrived firelizards, staying close to the ground.

Cenlia shrugs her shoulders, trying to keep both Charmer and Rogue from mischief, only to suddenly find a little gold critter nomming her meatroll! "Hey!" is Cen's surprised exclamation, and then the girl quickly has to juggle baby firelizard, booze, /and/ partially-eaten meatrolls. "Uh, thanks," Cen grins sheepishly at Xhaine. Rogue lets out a sulky 'gwerr' as the meatroll goes to somebody else, though Charmer croons even louder, ecstatic at the newest addition to the flock. The little gold, for her part, wants those meatrolls. Omnomnom. Cenlia nods absently to M'nol, and then reluctantly sets down the booze - Sunny Orchard peach brandy, judging from the label. "Shards, you're cute," Cenlia chuckles, shifting the baby flit so it isn't digging claws into her knuckles.

You Are a Friend of Mine Bronze Hatchling begins to teeter a little, toppling out of the basket and beginning to wander, snapping at those people who dare linger in his path, crooning little, as people have begun to filter away.

Captain Morgan Brown Hatchling lets out a rather odd sound before he too is following after his brother, weaving this way and that once he's on the slippery dance floor, overbalancing and correcting himself after a moment, catching closer and closer to those that linger.

"That's my gig," O'rly says quietly to R'iahn, eyes flickering with laughter as she attempts to diffuse his concern. "I'll tell you when we get back to Ierne. It's impolite." Using her secret weapon - an impish grin - the greenrider steps back a bit giving the man his space. "My fault? I didn't make you sit down, or take meat, or hold it out. Don't blame me for your soft heart, Riah." Fingers trail lovingly along the patchwork hide of the brown in her arms, the hard smirk of her mouth softening gently. "You're going to need a special name," she murmurs before her hazel eyes flick back to R'iahn. "You're going to love him and let your children take care of him, because lord knows they need to learn some responsibility. Shay is too headstrong and independent for that business." With that, the greenie turns and spies a familiar figure in the distance. "Finally. Hey, Ri, there's Sig!"

Thea's face loses the impish expression and she winces as Sigam speaks. She doesn't try to interrupt, but stands gravely by, sipping her juice. She half-smiles at his 'could be wearing a kilt', "Counting my blessings," she murmurs. The music playing has her tilting her head, "Sure you still want to?" There's a marked change in her demeanor, "I'm… sorry, Sig." She whispers the words, "I wasn't thinking." The voices of his friends coming for him has her backing away, "Oh look they're wanting you."

M'nol scoops up his second tiny green, cooing gently, though he doesn't make his egress from the clutch as he often has in the past, not wanting to stop watching the beauties hatch if nothing else. He pops several more gobbets of meat in her mouth, then taps her gently on the nose as the rest of his fair examines her, "Aventurine…"

Uthine observes the hatchlings carefully. The bronze seems a little too unbalanced temperament-wise for Uthine's tastes, given how he's snapping at people. So instead, Uthine tries to lure the following brown away with a soft, upward-lilting 'mrrr' sound.

Captain Morgan Brown Hatchling is attracted to an odd sound, keeling that way, curious. And then there's a little bit of meat too, and not just that weird sound, and with a pounce, the brown is quickly distracted, crooning happily as he lifts his little face.

M'nol pops a few more tidbits into Aventurine's mouth, watching the tiny bronze hiss and nip his way around the gathered. On a whim, he hands Aventurine a particularly large gob of meat to occupy her and holds a smaller tidbit out to the garrelous bronze.

Bits of shell fall away as if on cue from the inhabitant of the egg and her little head rises up then bobs forward as she steps clear. Bob, step, bob, step, a sort of strange little strut but by the time she's standing at full height the bobbing stops and she trills.

Salt and Lime Green Hatchling
Layers of green like overlapping leaves sweep the body of the pretty firelizard defining her lean shape with graceful strokes of pigment. A bold mix of dark and light hues takes a draping shape from her back down toward her blue-green belly, sweeping outwards over translucent wingsails. The intense shades fan outward toward her neck and tail and amidst the lush green foliage of her hide her eyeridges stand out with their dark, chocolatey color.

Uthine is almost surprised by the sudden pounce of the hatchling towards her, but giggles nonetheless at his enthusiasm. "Well, hello there," she greets the brown quietly. She picks him up, along with her sleepy bronze, and heads back to where she got the meat, so she can feed the hungry hatchling properly.

Xhaine regards the bronze biting at people and stuff, and just sits back, keeping his hands to himself. Nope, his four are enough for him, thank you. He needs his fingers to play his gitar.

Cenlia shifts to a sitting position, keeping her booze bottle close, and letting the little gold hatchling eat up the meatrolls. The gardener girl sighs, mutterimng wryly, "My food's never safe around here," though admittedly, she practically walked into this one. "Now what 'm I gonna call you?" the gardener girl peers at her newest firelizard with a thoughtful hrmm.

Sigam takes in the look on her face, actually serious for a second before he sighs. "It's okay. You just scared me. For real, this time." He reaches for her hand even as he heads towards the dance floor, not trying hard to take it, but he'll again lead if she'll let him. "Of course I still want to. If I can't terrorize you with a kilt, I have to frighten you off with my horrible dancing at least." The Dragonhealer hears his name too, and he's half-tempted to ignore it, but alas, the man has morals. "O'rly!," he calls, pinpointing the greenrider eventually. "Maybe we can make a detour," he adds to Thea before changing his course to stand by the rider from Ierne. "So, you did make it. I was starting to think I'd only seen a ghost. What's that you got there?" Though his smile is for O'rly, Sig pitches his voice loud enough for Riah to hear too. "I thought you didn't want firelizards." He glances around at the other youngsters, gaze lingering warily on the snappy bronze with an amused look. "Watch it, he's out for blood."

You Are a Friend of Mine Bronze Hatchling continues to snap here and there, getting meat sometimes, but not always, before there's a rather pitched voice, and the little bronze is started for all of a moment. But then, he's worming his way in that direction, determined to show that person exactly how much blood he's out for - unless of course, he's distracted with meat, first.

Moria is late. Which really isn't normal for her, honest. But she is here now, and wearing a skirt for the first time since she arrived several months ago. Mulgrave, her engergetic bronze firelizard, is squeaking and trilling in demand as he tugs the girl, by her hair, toward the hatching. "What are you going on about?" she demands of the flit as she aproaches the gathering. "And stop that already! It took me an hour to get my hair straight in the first place, and now you're messing it all up!"

R'iahn tries to keep glaring at Lory, he does, honest! But A) The little blue is currently trying to gnaw a hole in his hand, and B) How can he glare at her? "You shardin' well will." The man finally concedes with a longsuffering sigh. "Don't see why you've gotta be so sneaky." There is an almost-smile for the woman, then — but it's quickly smushed by another scowl. A scowly scowl. Not a fake scowl, honest, because who has use for those? "I blame you." He grumbles absently, watching her with the firelizard with the faintest quirks of a grin flickering. "Don't spoil him like y'spoil Briahla." And what a stroke of brilliance the next is! Riah eyes Lory for a long moment, then lets the slow smirk spread across his features, amused and pleased. "Your're right, Zan's old enough to do that. He sure ain't taking care of those sharding kittens, but a firelizard's more…sticky. Less easy to ignore." Deviously, the man grins, eyeing the wandering bronze and green warily — he's still got meat to spare, but he's also got this shiny little blue clinging to his hand like it's some sort of lifeline. "Well, shells, there you are." Drawled for Sigam and Thea, if she's with the man. "Ha! No, I was starting to think that /you/ were gone, sharding dragonhealer, off doing something responsible. Not today!" And he really would go on, but there's a lifted eyebrow for the little firelizard, and non-concealed amusement. "Happy turnday. That'n looks like a pain." Smiiile!

M'nol glances sidelong at Sigam as he impresses the bronze, "Congrats, Siggy… it's your turnday? Why didn't you tell me?"

Salt and Lime Green Hatchling trills again, continuing to bob up and down in the basket, before she flops out of the basket, the options for food dwindling, and the little green taking advantage of any little bit she can, crooning to see if it earns her any more.

Mulgrave is quite determined to obtain a new friend, and doesn't relinquish Moria's hair. As the girl approaches the hatching, she finally raelizes what he wants. "Are you serious?!" she demands of the firelizard, scowling at him. "I don't have time for another one of you! I'm already behing on everything." The bronze cheeps imploringly, settling on Moria's shoulder and rubbing his head against her face. Her expression softens and she stroked his neck. "Oh, fine," she murmurs, and edges closer to the gathering. "Ah, is there room for one more here?" she asks, glancing around at those who are clustered near the basket.

"Sure, here." Xhaine offers the meat he had grabbed earlier to Moria. "I think it's my turn again." he adds, finally noticing the pointed glares from the other harpers performing on the dais. Bah, Harpering is all work and no play! …well, that's a lie, it's fun to work, but whatever. If Moria takes the meat, he'll go back to the stand, yoinking a napkin to wipe the blood off his fingers. Can't muck up his strings, yo.

"Booze." Cenlia seems to have finally decided on a name, the statement saying it all, really. There's a pause, "Or meatroll," and Cen grins, glancing up in time to see more flits and more people being claimed by the hungry little things. Moria's arrival is greeted by a grin, Cenlia scooting over with a, "There's space here." Brandy bottle is transferred to Cen's lap, and as the little gold in her arms finally seems to have stuffed itself into a food coma, Cenlia grins and adds, "Grab some meat from the bowls, there's plenty."

M'nol chuckles at Cen, popping another tidbit into the creeling green's mouth, "Call her Mead."

"Or Brandy." Xhaine pipes up, unable to make one last comment on the scene. "Booze would be a good name for a bronze, not a pretty girl like that."

Moria smiles a bit shyly to Xhaine, accepting the meat with a soft, "Thanks." She slips over to the space next to Cenlia with another smile. "Mead?" she asks M'nol, curiosity evident in her voice. "What is mead?" She starts wiggling a bit of meat at the wandering green halfheartedly, and Mulgrave croons encouragingly from her shoulder.

Salt and Lime Green Hatchling seems to latch onto this new possibility, for as soon as there's a new person joining the fray, an encourging croon, that's the direction the little green is heading, snagging that little wiggling piece before crooning for more.

Thea's hand is taken and she finds herself pulled along towards the dance floor before she can say anything more, and then… detouring. She doesn't know O'rly, just nods silently trying not to look miserable and failing badly. R'iahn she gives a faint smile to. The man helped save Seryth's eggs after all. The little bronze's arrival has her blinking. Really she ought to be used to such things, but well, she isn't. If she were in the mood, she'd be quipping about him having a son. As it is she just keeps her mouth shut and watches with something akin to total helplessness. The man has a swarm now.

M'nol chuckles, if a tad humorously due to associated memory, "According to that book Phy lent me… it's an old earth alcohol. It was yellow."

Caldeth bugles from the edge of the crowds. See? Uthine blushes a bit as she hears her green bugle. Once the brown has eaten his fill, now she has two sleepy firelizards. She returns to Caldeth's side, giving a nod and a smile of greeting to Moria on the way. "Hello there," she offers quietly.

Cenlia hmms, eyeing her snoozing hatchling and nodding at first to M'nol, opening her mouth perhaps to ask something, but then laughing and sending a grin Xhaine's way, "Brandy's a good one." Says the girl raised in a brandy orchard. Her attention returns to M'nol's explanation of mead, Cenlia's eyebrows rising, "Old Earth, huh? How's it made? I wanna try some." Of course she does. "THink I could take a look at that book?" Cenlia asks, "Got a still, could probably homebrew…" Cenlia scoots back a bit, keeping Moria between her and the baby flits - five firelizards is enough, Cen's not taking any more chances. Now that the meatroll is all eaten up, the gardener girl settles down to just watch and listen to the music.

Moria makes a muffled sound of surprise as the green latches on to her tidbit and hurriedly offers another chunk of meat. Mulgrave sidles down her outstretched arm, stretching his neck toward the green and releasing another long, deep croon of encouragement. "Aren't you a a pretty little thing," she murmurs, lips twitching with a supressed laugh at Mulgrave's antics. "Oh, hello," she replies distractedly to Uthine, smiling at the woman briefly. Then she glances at Cenlia and asks, "What kinds of things have you brewed?"

"I'm not sneaky, I just don't like to be rude," O'rly says with a /look/ towards R'iahn, one he's surely gotten used to by now. "And I'll spoil him if I want to spoil him. He's mine, isn't he?" This last bit is crooned towards the baby, eyes glittering pleasantly. "Sigam," the greenrider repeats the name as the dragonhealer finally approaches, head tilting even as she nods. "We didn't know where you went - was that you that yelled at me earlier? Sorry. It's… crazy here." The crowd is glanced at, and she looks as though she's about to slink back to the safety of her Sanldoth again. "Yes, happy turnday. We brought you presents, but they're over there. I'll go get them." A polite if not confused look is given to the visibly upset Thea, along with a nod even as Lory makes her great escape, only too glad to tack herself back to her stolid green's side. "I brought a friend." Sanldoth was pleased. Way, way deep down inside.

Salt and Lime Green Hatchling has no concerns about conversation, instead as another piece of meat is hurriedly snagged the green nudges a little bit, crooning happily, settling in with a greeting for Mulgrave, and ready to be stuffed silly.

M'nol thinks for a moment, loathe to give up that connection to Phy, then nods, "Yeah… but I don't think we have what you need here… it requires something called honey."

Cenlia grins at Moria, "Brewed a lotta stuff - mainly tuber ale. My cousin Evi showed me how. Stuff could take the skin off yer tongu, but there's nothin' better for a drinking contest." There's mischief written all over the gardener's face, "Still got some left; was hoping to to get more soon. But.." she trails off, glancing distractedly at the meadow, then shaking her head, "Gotta find a rider to take me to South Boll." That last bit is tacked on rather lamely. It's not as if there's a shortage of riders here. Cenlia chews her lip a moment, and then furrows her brow, glancing at M'nol and saying, "Honey?" Nose wrinkle, "That a type of Terran fruit?"

Mulgrave's croons become a trill of delight as the green settles in for stuffing, and Moria is distracted from the conversation briefly to grab another handful of meat and continue feeding her. The little lizard has wrapped herself around Moria's hand and delightly chows down. "There, you have your friend," Moria tells her bronze, then returns her attention to Cenlia. "I'll take your word for it - I've never had much luck with drinking," she says with a smile. She too glances to M'nol for the answer to Cen's question - honey's a new word in her book.

M'nol shakes his head, "I don't think so… said something about bees, whatever those are…" He smiles, even if it's still empty of humor, "Congrats on the green," he pops another tidbit into the maw of his own.

"I've been here the whole time. You must be losing your eyesight, old man," Sigam cajoles, glaring over at R'iahn. "And, uh, tha—" Sig doesn't quite get his appreciation out before something bites down in the general vicinity of his ankle. Did I mention Sigam's wearing sandles today? I didn't? Oops. "Shards what the-" Luckily, the Dragonhealer's flits have more presence of mind than he does. Saoirse wings over and gives her best queenly demand for the bronze locked onto the tender flesh of her Sigam's ankle to let go. Hierarchy what it is, the bronze complies, but only just, continuing to snap at the man's toes. Squabble-snap, squabble-snap. "Enough! Here, eat this!" The man has moved at the speed of light, grabbing up food for the bronze before the bleeding ankle becomes a bleeding stump of one of his toes. "Some friend you are," he chides, but it's quietly. Definitely not amused, but not hateful either. "A pain is an understatement," the man shoots up at R'iahn before he ducks his head towards M'nol. "Yeah, it is. Sorry, I try not to make a deal out of it." A sheepish smile is aimed back at Thea, even as he cradles the food-gobbling flit in his hands. "I have the worst luck?" And by worst, he means best.

Cenlia giggles at Mulgrave, the gardener girl saying to Moria, "I dunno how this place ain't overrunby flits already." Sigam's bronze anklebiter over there gets a raised eyebrow, Cenlia just barely stifling a snicker. She sighs at M'nol's mention of bees, saying, "'S too bad. Still, bet I could find something similar." She ponders a while, apparently liking the challenge of making a Pernese version of mead. Too bad she doesn't know what bees are. Yet.

Moria hmmms softly, shaking her head in confusion. "What does a letter have to do with alcohol?" She gently pries the green from her hand, transfering it to the crook of her arm. "Thanks. I think I'll call her Trina," she adds with a tender smile for the hatchling. Mulgrave is inspecting his new friend with little nudges and chirps, obviously satisfied with the results of his work. Moria returns her attention to Cenlia once Trina is settled. "Well, so long as there is food enough for all of them, I suppose there will continue to be more."

R'iahn chuckles and shakes his head, rolling his eyes skyward at the futility of it all. Women! "Fine, fine!" He throws his hands up in the air. "Why aren't you drinking your wine? You're a lot nicer when you're drinking, Lory." The man grumbles, then smiles a little at Thea. "Evening. How is your gold? Her eggs?" He — somewhat remembers his manners, see? Even with the little blue trying to make mincemeat of his fingers. He's thoroughly ignoring the little thing, though, smiling blandly at the others. "Buck up, lad." Laughed for Sigam. "Got to keep your wits about you for a while yet. Wait til you see my beach." He's all but smirking, before giving a firm shake of his hand and glaring at the little blue. "/Stop/." Grumble. "Lory? Where'd she get off to?" He lifts an eyebrow and glares around slowly.

M'nol smiles at Cen, then nods to Sigam, "Congrats… 'course now I'll have to get you a present." His grin is nearly genuine, but not quite, maybe a carrying case for those flits of yours that you canine can wear.

Thea just takes a step back as Sigam obviously needs his hand back. Not much she can say except, "Congratulations." It comes out perhaps more dryly than she intends. A look at O'rly and she's extending her hand with a quiet, "I'm Thea. Sigam said friends were coming." R'iahn's question claims her attention, "She's well, thank you. And the eggs are fine." She fall silent, just watching the friends visit.

Jessamin has, all this time, stayed at the back of the gathering, even missing her escort's departure for Western. She looks a little concerned, but shrugs. "Shards… all that fun, and now I'll have to bother F'lirt again." Shaking her head, she laughs. "But first… M'nol? I don't want to be taking this back with me. It was meant as a graduation gift for you, just in case I can't make it on the day."

M'nol smiles, "Hey, Jess, I didn't see you there." he eyes the bundle, then blinks twice, "uhh… oh, sorry, I'm a little…" he points at teh green, then manages to disentangle a hand from his fair to reach out for the present, "Thanks, Jess, it means a lot."

Jessamin says "Oh dear…" She passes the very warm, quilt-wrapped bundle to him, chortling. "This could get interesting, very quickly…."

Cenlia's little gold may be full of food, but Cenlia's stomach is not, and the girl's tummy does a little rumble of its own, mimcing midnight-blue Rogue's growly sulking on her shoulder. With a sigh, Cen gets to her feet, letting bronze Charmer flutter off to begfor scritches from those nearby. The little creature crooons, but then spieshis favorite goldie and makes a trundlebug-line for Thea. Crooon! Crooooon! Cenlia, meanwhile, is glancing about, awkwardly holding her new flit and her booze bottle while edging toward the nearest food table, calling ack to the others, "You guys want anything? I'm gonna grab a plate." Just how she's going to do that with both arms full isn't explained. There's a smile and a cheerful, "Hey," for Jessamin as the girl goes past. But Cen doesn't stop to chat just yet. She's on a mission.

M'nol manages to unwrap the bundle, then grins, chuckling honestly, "Another egg? This could get interesting indeed." Poor M'nol, before he can even think about passing the thing off to someone else, it begins to wriggle in his hands.

Bit by bit, a hairline crack appears around the equator of the egg, widening as the hatchling within works his way free. With a sudden, abrupt -crack-, the two halves fall apart, leaving a Tabby Cat Brown Hatchling to step free from his confinement, creeling loudly for food.

Tabby Cat Brown Hatchling
This handsome brown firelizard carries himself with a sinuous, feline like grace right from the very start. From his snout on down to the tip of his tail, tone on tone stripes of burnt umber over mahogany wrap around his lithe little body. His belly, forearms, and hind legs are all an unusual shade of burnt orange, with each talon tipped in gleaming siena claws. The spars of his wings are awash in the same burnt umber as the dark stripes on his body, with madder-tinged fawn wingsails stretched out between each spar. His whirling, faceted eyes are ringed with a thin line of mahogany, as if he were wearing glasses and perhaps peering down his snout at you.

Jessamin says "Oh dear… I didn't think it was quite -that- close to hatching!"

M'nol scoops up the tiny brown, cradling him in his other arm and grinning stupidly, "Thanks, Jess, he's gorgeous, now I just need to name him, I'm all tapped for tonight, I think."

Moria urges Mulgrave back to her shoulder as the green hatchling, stuffed to bulging, murmurs contentedly and tucks her head under a wing, obviously intending to sleep now. With a poorly supressed smile at the gurgling of Cenlia's stomach, she shakes her head. "I'm fine, thanks." And then she's scuffing a toe along the ground, glancing at the soon-to-graduate weyrlings. "Uhm, about graduation, and presents…." She trails off, looking flustered.

Jessamin says "Oh shards… graduation… has anybody seen R'zel about lately?"

M'nol smiles, doing his best not to seem rude as he stuffs to starving maws of flit-ness, "I… I think I'd better get these two out of here… they're going to work up the others. Thanks again, Jess, I need all the friends I can get right now." He manages to give her a hug before running off down teh path to the forest, Faraeth winging along behind.

Cenlia returns shortly from her foodquest, with the little gold tucked in the crook of one arm and brandy bottle under the other. She's not carrying any food, however. Eledri, close behind her, is the one with with the plate of rolls and some glasses. The man look vaguely irritated, but seems Cen's promised him some of the brandy, as his glass is thefirst to be filled after Cen plops down near Moria again. She's just in time to spy M'nol leaving, with a second baby flit, and raises an eyebrow. There's a sigh at Jessamin's question, Cenlia shaking her head and saying, "Ain't seen most of the weyrlings since the hatching." Her slight frown is brief, however, as she says louder, "Who wants to try the new brew?" And she indicates the brandy bottle with a lopsided grin.

Jessamin frowns a little, looking a tad lost. "Shards. N'kor and T'eo are going to be pretty upset that I got separated from my escort… is there anybody who can help?"

Uthine raises her head at hearing the word 'help'. She didn't hear much else, but she did hear that, and looks for the source. Jessamin is looking lost, so she makes a beeline for the girl. "Pardon me…did you say you needed help?" she inquires.

Moria apparently won't have to finish her query, since the only weyrling nearby has departed. Looking both relieved and anxious, the girl turns her attention to Jessamin's request for aid. "I can help you look for them," she offers, gently transferring Trina to her other arm. "Who was escorting you?"

Jessamin says "L'ton. I got separated in all the excitement of the celebration. Now I don't see him or Dhonzayth anywhere." She shakes her head. "He probably went off looking for me and we just missed each other, that's all."

Taking a steeling breath, O'rly reaches down to the ground and fetches her helmet from Sanldoth's feet, digging in the green's side-packs before drawing out a spare she always kept there. Her return to the trio of Sigam, Thea, and R'iahn is quiet, hazel eyes telling her bluerider friend to quit worrying so much in the silent way best friends can before she shoves the helmet unceremoniously at Sigam. "Put it on, we're taking you away," her smirk returns with the brusqueness, turning meet Thea's hand with a shake of her own. "Ierne's best to Xanadu and her queens. I've heard about you. Good things, of course. I hope the kindness has been returned." This is for Sigam. "I'm O'rly, rider of Green Sanldoth. Nice to meet you." Eyes flick from goldrider to bluerider to dragonhealer. "Right. You, me, Riah, booze, beach. Pronto. Sorry to steal your pal, but he needs a vacation." With a laugh that borders on spritely, Lory heads back to Sanl and Jae without further ado.

Jessamin whispers "I might be able to find a ride back… but if you see R'zel… tell him he's thought of and missed?"

Moria shakes her head. "I don't remember seeing him, but I've only been here for a little bit. Do you want to look for him?" Mulgrave, leaning around Moria's face to better see Jessamin, offers a chirp of greeting. He's stopped obsessing over his new friend. For now.

Thea nods to O'rly, not that's she's heard anything really. "Well-met." Ah the plans Sigam spoke about. She remembers. She's backing away again. "Sigam." It's just a quiet word, "Come back rested." Her eyes blink back tears as she says it, she turns and runs through the crowd in the direction of the Annex.

Jessamin shakes her head. "L'ton's probably going to chew me out for getting separated when I get back. No doubt he's gone back to wait for me by now. I may have to send a flit to Western and see if I can raise an escort back."

Jessamin lets out a sharp whistle, bringing her little green flit, Sekhmet, winging her way down to her shoulder. "Remember that nice bronze flit and his human?" There is happy trilling from the little green, who dances about on her shoulder. "That's right. Go on, go find them!" With that, Sekhmet is off and up in the air again, disappearing *between*.

Moria makes a soft sound of sympathy. "Is there no-one else from Western here who could take you back?" she asks, glancing about the gathering. "I would think someone would be around…." She trails off, watching Jessamin send her green for a rider. "That's an interesting way to describe someone."

Cenlia hmms and glances around, telling Jessamin, "Am sure one of the other riders here could take ya back." The gardener girl seems about to say more, but her brother's frowning and tapping at some gadget he's pulled out. "We need to go," Eledri grumles, grabbing the booze bottle and heading off toward the weyr proper at a fast pace. Cenlia blinks, frowning with an, "Oy, hey wait," as she scrambles to her feet, trying to to jostle her sleeping flit as she nabs the plate of meatrolls and jogs after him.

Jessamin chuckles softly, and grins. "Well, Sekhmet is more interested in the flit than the rider, but where you find one, the other is usually close by. I imagine she won't be too long in returning."

Moria nods, causing Mulgrave to settle back against her shoulder so he doesn't fall. "I can understand that. I hope she finds them, then. Have you been enjoying your stay at Western?" she asks, curious. "Is it very different from here?"

"Yeah, thanks," Sigam murmurs over at Thea, jostling the squirming bundle in his hand. "Oh, will you settle?," the Dragonhealer grouses, pinning the little thing between his hands. This doesn't do much more than incite a holy war of cheeping, but it makes Sigam feel better. "Oof!" Or, well, it does until he has to release the bronze to grab the helmet. "Uhm, okay, but—" By the time he turns to face Thea again, she's backing away. Sig follows a few steps, stuttering over his words. "Well, yeah, but wait, aren't you… gonna… bye then." The man's shoulders slump, eyes following her until she disappears, head shaking. "That went well." The helmet is eyed carefully and turned over in his hands before he thumps it onto his head. "Well, guess that's our cue. Lady Lory has spoken," Sigam says in a dull fashion as he elbows R'iahn, attempting humor. "I'll… have to take care of that later." Giving the hatching and annex entrance one last look, Sigam follows after O'rly, more than ready for some time off at this point.

R'iahn would stare, but at this point, he's too used to the antics of people. The man sighs, and scrubs at his face, shaking his head. "Women." Is all he mutters, before saluting those around him. "Enjoy your party. To Xanadu!" There is a halfhearted laugh, and wary glance after the fleeing goldrider, before he's stomping back to his dragon, muttering darkly to himself.

Jessamin grins wide, tilting her head back and letting out a huge, contented sigh. "Vastly different. It's temperate here… but tropical there. The water is just as beautiful a shade of blue as a piece of turquoise, and the island lives up to its name. Emerald Island. Matter of fact… I really need to get the fruit some of the other Candidates and I gathered together to be sent here. When word got out about the storms, we wanted to help." A stray lock of hair is tucked behind her left ear, and she straightens, smiling. "It's a different pace there than here. You work hard, but play just as hard. I have to admit… the place has grown on me."

Moria's smile returns and intensifies at what she perceives to be passion in Jessamin's voice. "Sounds like you're happy there. I'm glad to hear it. This is the only Weyr I've been to, so thank you for sharing." She mimics the other's movement, pushing a strand of hair away from her face - Mulgrave's earlier assault on her hair left it in some disarray. "How do you like your fellow candidates? Are they anything like the people you stood with here?"

Jessamin says "Oh my… now how do I even begin?" She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. "Mynna's a stitch, really. 'Mischief' should be her middle name. Vora was so quiet and shy when I knew her here, but she's turning out to have a mischievous streak a queen dragon's length wide as well. Kyldar… she just got Searched within this past sevenday, so I haven't gotten to know her quite as well yet. Vaine… I don't know what to make of him. He seems nice enough, if maybe a little bit on the quiet side. Definitely a different group from the last time and yes, that is all of us."

Moria tilts her head, a guesture Mulgrave imitates. "Isn't that a pretty small group?" she asks, concern entering her voice. "Though I suppose there is still plenty of time to search more people before the eggs hatch." She gently shifts Trina back to her right arm, shaking out her left one with a rueful wince.

Jessamin nods. "Smallest group I've ever heard of, but then again, there's only nine eggs on the Sands."

Vinteth arrives from the Clearing

Moria nods in return. "I'm sure it will turn out just fine. Uhm, if you think your green firelizard will get your transport here, I'm going to slip off. I want to tuck this little one somewhere more comfortable than my arms, if you don't mind."

Jessamin says "Speaking of…" She takes several steps back as Vinteth lands, waving to the lovely green dragon. "Hello there, Beautiful!" A hug is given to Moira, and she smiles. "It was good to see you about again. Thank you for staying put with me this long, it's greatly appreciated."

Sekhmet pops out of *between* right behind the green dragon, flying down to her human's shoulder with a triumphant -cheep-

Vinteth trills with a friendly tone to the little Green cousin!

T'burk waves over to Jessamin as he dismounts and slides down from his dragon's shoulders. "Howdy!" he calls out to the two ladies.

Moria returns the hug, even if she looks a little surprised. "I'm glad I could help, even if it was just by being company. I hope you don't get in any trouble. I'll see if I can get a ride to the Hatching and cheet for you," she says before slipping away through the crowd. Mulgrave croons a farewell of his own, leaning around Moria's head to watch Jessamin with whirling blue eyes as his ride departs.

Jessamin waves a farewell to the little bronze flit and his human, chuckling. "I'll have to bring an extra meatroll next time. And do come to the Hatching… take some sun, it'll do you good!" With that, she turns her attention to T'burk, giving him a great big hug. "Hello there… I'm sorry I had to roust you out like that."

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