Xanadu Weyr - DragonHealer's Annex
An entrance way which would allow admittance to even the greatest of Queen Dragons leads into a chamber which would house half-a-dozen of the same size. To one side is a shallow pool which constantly clears itself of grime and is used is washing wounds. Nearby is a shelf with a generous supply of clean bandages and clean sheets upon stone shelves. The other side of the chamber is taken up by an alcove with multiple banks of computers to house medical records and help to diagnose illness and injury in the Dragons who come for aid. Within this alcove is a small medical laboratory where medicines and herbs can be prepared and experiments can take place. The far wall houses two dozen Dragon couches, each separated above by a rail which supports a thick curtain allowing the patients an option of privacy as they rest and recover.
Stretched out across the floor near the dragon couches is a large metal box, as wide as a human male is tall, and perhaps thrice as long, give or take. Its riveted sides rise halfway up the shin and are lined with cords of various hues. Each cord has been secured to the side of the box, effectively keeping it out of the range of flailing hatchlings. They all lead back to the Annex's main incubator, leeching its power and technology, heating the sands to some obscene temperature. The metal box is filled with sand from the main hatching arena, and into it are nestled six eggs, their shells hardened to readiness.
The sun hangs high in the lazy spring sky, and the day holds the first inkling promise of summer's heat. It can't even begin to compare, however, to the temperatures radiating out of the open incubator. A long silver box takes up a portion of the wall next to the dragon couches, which have been emptied of what few occupants they held to make room for candidates and their families. Three Dragonhealers are currently clustered around the main incubator, checking and double-checking the wires fueling the box's heat under Sigam's beady gaze. When he finally gets the thumbs-up, switches are flicked and the heating units along the artificial sands kick to life. "Bless Faranth," Sigam breathes, earning him a little eyeroll from his assistant, a young mousey girl named Pol. "You've given that thing a test run five times already, Sig. You're worse than a clutchmother." Ignoring the jibe, the Dragonhealer glances around, tugging heavy gloves onto his hands. "Riah! Let's go, time to get these moved over." A bag that is padded and likely familiar to the overseeing gold- and bluerider is plopped inside the incubator, Sigam already gently shifting an egg into it to be transferred to the sands.
Seryth hovers a mite too close to that incubator, whuffing and snorting and being generally in the way as she tries to keep an anxious eye on the handling of her eggs. Normally serene, she is anxious right now with wings just slightly askew. Work around me, but I'm not budging seems to be her stance.
R'iahn is looking remarkably clean today. It's possible that he's showered recently, and those clothes are definitely on the new side of things. Probably not the best for hard work, but hey, he's not perfect! "Caution's better than getting it wrong, kid." The man mutters towards Pol with a snort, flashing what might either be a grimace or some sort of grin towards Sigam. "Right." Easily, he takes position opposite Sigam, thoroughly ignoring most else other than the other dragonhealer — who is his senior, so he doesn't even grumble. Will you look at that! He does, however, flash an exasperated look at Seryth. "Mothers."
Thea has been summoned by Seryth while in the office apparently. The sounds of running feet can be heard entering the Annex and it is a breathless junior who pauses to catch her breath just inside the door, dressed for work rather than riding. She skitters to a stop, taking a few long breaths before striding over to stand beside the young queen. "Come on, Seryth, back up and let them move the eggs. Then maybe you can nose them or something. Out of the way!" She not strong enough to move the gold, but that doesn't stop her from shoving at her anyway. Seryth reluctantly backs up a few steps. Well, it's a start? She does give the healers a brief nod, but they are busy and she lets them get to it.
"Easy, Seryth, we're being gentle." Sigam's voice is polished, professional. He's beyond ire, flashing a smile up to the queen even as he seals the bag and lifts it in time with R'iahn. "Thanks, Thea. She's just worried. You would be too, if you'd popped and raised six eggs." The last bit's for Riah; Sig might look harried, hair all askew, but at least the Dragonhealer's in a good mood. It's a seemingly long trip from the incubator to the open-air heating unit, but they make good time settling the rest of the eggs in place. Storing the bag, Sigam backs up, turning his head to nod at the great queen. "There. Now you can fuss over 'em all you want." He looks more than a little relieved.
D'son arrives on Thea's heels from the direction of the office as well, though a last minute thing or two held him back. "Good day all," he says and heads over near Thea, a close eye on the proceedings. "Everything okay so far?" he murmurs to the goldrider.
R'iahn is careful not to step on Thea — or Seryth — as he follows Sigam's lead. "M'am." He does grunt at one point, but is otherwise entirely focused until they stop, at which point he turns a vague smirk on Sigam. "Oh, they're all the same. Human mothers are just as bad as mother dragons. Only a little smaller." There's a snort as he follows Sigam back, watching Seryth with amusement. "She seems like a good mother, though." His own tone is as gruff and grumbly as ever, not in the least bit polished — and that likely can't be blamed on his lack of experience in his current field. The man stands, eyeing those already around somewhat warily, but keeps his expression relatively serene. "Sir." Is murmured for D'son upon his arrival, before he's turning a vaguely wary look back to Sigam. "What else do we do?"
Seryth hovers as the eggs are transferred from the incubator to the place prepared for them. Her muzzle is but a few inches from Sigam's head as he steps from the incubator and follows him when he steps across the room. Once the egg is placed, her whuffs hot air through her nostrils as if to say, 'step away from the egg!' Thea turns her head as her name is spoken, "She's… tense" Her voice shakes just a bit as she answers D'son, showing the mental strain she's under. The strain of keeping Seryth calm since her eggs have been moved has taken a toll on the junior. She's back to eyeing the gold, forcing her to be still by sheer will until Sigam gives Seryth the go ahead. The long neck arches and her head is in that box with a disgruntled snort.
D'son nods just once and hovers a hand over to lightly rest on Thea's arm. "It'll be okay," he says reassuringly and looks up at the gold, then down at the recently moved eggs.
"Yeah, well, you'd know that better than I," Sigam says, tugging off his gloves and giving D'son a low nod. "Good afternoon," the Dragonhealer says, turning to give Thea his best comforting smile before his gaze shifts back to his blueriding friend. "Now we wait. We're in charge of lowering the wall closest to the candidates so there's not an edge to trip over, but after that, it's all note-taking and making sure no one dies." It's said light-heartedly, but a certain tightness appears around his eyes.
Farrah's eyes are wide with fascination as she enters the dragonhealer's annex, stopping to swivel her head and take in the scale of the place. Nosily, she peeks into empty stalls, inspecting. Eventually, though, her meandering steps take her closer to the incubation unit, although she remains several paces back. Wide-eyes note the agitation in Seryth, and stay clear.
R'iahn's chuckle is faint and somewhat humorless, as he watches Seryth with her eggs. "Aye." He agrees faintly, arms crossing loosely across his chest, eyes narrowing at the box of sand. The golderider and Weyrleader are watched out of the corner of his gaze for a moment, but he doesn't interrupt, nodding to the seniormost of the pair of them, not even seeming to notice that he's a lot older than Sigam. "Good plan." He agrees, not managing to modulate his tone quite lighthearted, but he does flash a brief smirk, eyeing Farrah with wary curiousness.
Thea smiles briefly back at D'son as he places a hand on her arm. Although the smile is brief, it reaches her eyes and her tone is appreciative, "Thanks. I think… I think when this is over I need a break." Her voice sounds odd to her own ears and she shakes her head after they are spoken. Seryth is calmer nosing those eggs, allowing the junior to take a long breath, she leans back against the gold and is able to smile back at Sigam, her lips relaxing more naturally and she includes R'iahn and Farrah in it.
No sooner had the Dragonhealers settled to wait than the candidates appeared at the door, led by an all-too-cheerful coordinator. Though there wouldn't be any hot sand under their feet, they still wore the traditional robes, and were plenty glad for it in the heat that had consumed the Annex. Several candidates eye the glorified sandbox that kept the eggs warm while others are more fascinated by the eggs themselves. The appointed Dragonhealers guide them into position before the simulated sands, allowing them time only to bow their respects to Seryth before moving on to stand in loose clusters a fair distance back from the box. Families follow along shortly, giving the Annex a wary once-over, but in general, their attention seems to be far more devoted to those they were supporting. Trainees are quick to usher them safely out of the way, allowing children to stand on counters and parents to hover and fret.
"Well, that'd be our cue," Sigam mutters to R'iahn, flicking his gaze over the white-robed candidates. With the bluerider's help, he lifts away one shin-high side of the box, letting the heated sand spill forward gently as it would without disturbing the eggs. Setting the metal plate aside, Sigam nods to the blueriding trainee before taking his spot next to his assistant, Pol. "Here we go."
Barnacle Encrusted Egg appears to gently roll with the outgoing tide, but it is an illusion for it is rock-steady.
The Rock and the Hard Place Egg twitches, then slides to one side, it's red beacon marking tilting to and fro as if on a stormy wave. Slowly it stills, and then lapses back into silence again.
Farrah gives R'iahn and Thea a little bob of her head, something of a bow. She moves to join them, not wearing Candidate's white. She waits until the side of the box is raised to comment on the unorthodox Hatching: "Fascinating."
R'iahn manages something that isn't quite a travesty of a smile for Thea. Really, he's not a smiley person, so it probably passes the test. "Luck, goldrider." He calls quietly, not managing not to make it sound grumpy, but hey. Can't have everything. At least the smile lingers for a moment more before he's making an amusingly irritable face at the incoming candidates and muttering about children. "So it'd seem." The man mutters to Sigam, carefully assisting, then high-tailing it off to the sidelines to stand with the other dragonhealers, expression curious in spite of himself. He does, however, shoot Farrah a long look, expression unreadable. "You're going to get yourself maimed." The man growls helpfully, expression almost pleasant. Never mind that that's probably not the most likely of outcomes.
Cecron, ever the confident youth, raises his chin and eyes the eggs speculatively. "Wanna guess at what hatches first?," he asks of another candidate, perhaps a cronie or partner in crime. Stunned by the whole scenario, the other boy gives Cecron a puzzled look. "Oh, nevermind." Exhasperated, the candidate folds his arms and taps his toes, waiting and trying to hide his nervousness under a mask of impatience.
Seryth pulls her nose out of that box only with great reluctance to eye the arriving Candidates with more than her normal disfavor in relinquishing her eggs. The dragonhealers nearby get a snort for their troubles. Egg snatchers! Thea rubs her hands on the gold's hide. "They'll be fine, Seryth. Move your head back now." She's speaking aloud for the benefit of others. She frowns as Farrah moves in with the Candidates and seeks to catch Sigam's eyes. Her silent message is one of 'Get her back!' She gives R'iahn a nod and a gentle, "Thanks." Her brief rest is over - it is now back to the calming effort. She leaves her palms on the queen and her eyes slowly slide shut.
Could that be creaking coming from the Laid to Rest in the Depths Galleon Egg? But no, surely not. The egg moves, but the rolling motion seems more wooden than fluid before coming to rest once more.
Sigam seems to start a bit at the sound of Farrah's voice, attention having been so wholly focused on preparations that he hand't seen her come in. "Hi," the Dragonhealer says, attention divided between the eggs and the Healer. "Different, huh? Lightning knocked out the heater for the main sands, so… we're making due." The Dragonhealer rolls his eyes at R'iahn and shakes his head. "Oh, quit being so overdramatic. C'mon, we'd better get back anyways, even if it's just to make momma Seryth happy." The man eyes Farrah and Pol significantly, the latter remembering with a flash that she had a job to do, notes to take. Sigam angles an understanding grin towards Thea and her look before joining R'iahn on the sidelines.
Farrah takes R'iahn's advice and moves to his far side - squarely placing him between her and the eggs full of biting things. "I… I'm sorry, I'm just not sure where to stand to watch, I mean." She decides to stand near Sigam, as if proximity to the Dragonhealer adds legitimacy to her attendance. "Your /main/ sands are also electric?" she asks Sigam. "I mean, I suppose you don't have a choice, but it seems like rather having one's eggs in one basket. So to speak."
K'ael is leading a large dragon into the Annex. The two are looking lost, especially Azaeth, who keeps knocking his head into things as he tries to navigate in. The bronze isn't much smaller than Seryth, and thick to boot. And certainly not used to making his way inside. But here they are finally. Azaeth peers down at the eggs in… a box. This was not a hatching sands, and certainly a strange clutch to him. K'ael is staring off into space, trying to answer his dragon's questions about what is happening here.
A boy who can't be too much older than fifteen, clearly one of the Grade One's, stands off to the side with a tall woman who looks like she's one foot in the grave. It quickly becomes apparent that she's not, as she snakes a hand out to smack the young man firmly on the back of the head when he mutters darkly at his clipboard. "Focus, boy." The old woman growls, while glancing off around for something else. Not finding it, she focuses intently on the eggs, eyes narrowing vaguely as she notes something quietly to the boy. He scribbles on the clipboard.
D'son remains close by Thea as the eggs set to rocking. "Couple of days off, then," he suggests to the weyrwoman quietly, "things should be fine without you for that long," he offers reassuringly. K'ael and Azaeth's arrival though sees his head lifting up and swinging around and Thea might catch the soft, sudden inhale as the Weyrleader looks towards his best friend and clutchmate. It's Inimeth who passes along greetings to Azaeth, maybe a distraction from bumping and knocking?
The Rock and the Hard Place egg cracks suddenly, a lightning bolt spearing across its thundercloud surface and rendering the little red buoy in two. Yet, for all of this violence, it stills, seeming to hold its breath. The calm before the storm? Perhaps.
Pol crawls up onto an available patch of counter space, handling a carefully-kept chart on a clipboard on her lap. A stick of charcoal is poised over it and ready to record final notes on color, behavior, and approximated size that she will later program into the computer, adding to a database's worth of studies on each progressive change in the young dragon's growth. The arrival of Azaeth sends the poor girl to wincing, but the cracking of an egg tears her attention away before she can mourn over whatever the bronze might be messing up. Poor Azaeth.
R'iahn's attention wavers — Seryth, Candidates, Thea, Sigam, Farrah. D'son. K'ael. It's a lot to focus on, but he doesn't seem in the least bit unnerved, arms crossed, expression calm. Thea gets another nod and almost-smile, expression sympathetic (well…sort of), before he's snorting at Sigam once more. "Not being overdramatic." He grouses vaguely, but watches Farrah move off with amusement and an approving nod. Smart. See, he's not even too bright, standing here. But it'd look kind of bad if he went and hid behind Sigam. Cough. "Sir." Ista's Weyrleader is noted faintly, before he's turning a wary look on Pol. "Sigam, she's going to fall off and bust her head open." Sigh.
Thea's eyes open in time to nod back to Sigam, returning his grin with a small one of her own. Her concern for Farrah relaxes as the healer steps back. She's flashing a grateful look at D'son and it is while looking his way she hears the Weyrleader's breath, her eyes slide past him to spot K'ael's entrance. He's focused elsewhere, so she simply waits to say hello to him. Seryth doesn't however. It's far from her serene greeting however. The bronze gets a rumble rather than a croon. Mayhap it is a 'look what they've done to my eggs' sort of greeting.
The Skeletal Shipwreck Graveyard Egg doesn't so much rock as creak, the slow, steady motion of one set and resigned in its ways. It shudders then, once, and stills.
Barnacle Encrusted Egg is left high and dry as the others around have hatched, leaving only the shards to keep it company. As if sensing this, the egg drifts towards one side, before listing the other way, revealing a circular crack forming where it once rested.
K'ael finally snaps out of it and looks around at the gathering of people around. He's in his good clothes for a change lately and sends a wave in the direction of D'son and Thea, but stays off to the side by himself. There's a nod to R'iahn. Azaeth gives a rumble in greeting to Inimeth and Seryth, then stares down at the cracking eggs. They were hatching, and that was good. Though Azaeth doesn't seem to be too happy about the current situation. He's usually grumpy though, so no surprise there.
Sigam twists his mouth up in a smile for Farrah, shoulders bouncing in a shrug. "No worries, we're merely concerned for your well-being." Uhm, aww? "Yes, but then again, it was the storm of a century. No one expected something so out of the way to be the target of lightning strike." The man shrugs noncommittally. "Regardless, we're just glad we had the incubator. Seryth… not so much." The Dragonhealer gives the gold an appraising look, imitating Pol's wincing for Azaeth even as he aims a welcoming wave towards K'ael. They met once, that was polite, right? "You're never not overdramatic," Sig adds on for Riah's benefit, smirking even though his eyes are focused on the cracking of the eggs.
Thea nods back to K'ael, a grave look in her eyes, but she smiles in a faint sort of welcome to him as he looks their way. Her eyes slide to give D'son a quick glance before she motions to K’ael that he is welcome to join them if he wants, her hand idly stroking Seryth as she does so. The queen is calmer, but far from happy as she mrrs in her throat at the candidates, her tail twitches at the tip showing her disquiet.
In the span of a breath, the dragonet inside the Rock and the Hard Place egg rips its shell asunder, kicking it out of the way in a manner most vicious. Shards fly every which-a-way, unleashing the beast within. Engulfing Gyre Green is free!
Pol, for her part, aims a flash of her tongue at R'iahn. "I'm perfectly capable of holding my own, trainee," the normally softspoken girl remarks, dark eyes amused before the Barnacle Encrusted Egg cracks. Oh, right. She was supposed to be doing something.
Hatching or no, Farrah is distracted by the crashing sounds of Azaeth making his ungainly way through the Annex. To Sigam, she leans in and says delicately, "It, uh, does become a tight fit around the incubator with both of the parents here." There's a pause for reflection, and then: "Not that I'd deny them, though." Soon enough, there are shards to duck as a dragon hatches quite violently, and Farrah's attention is back on the eggs and their occupants.
D'son beams at K'ael and waves happily once his clutchmate focuses. He actually looks disappointed that the other bronzerider's settle over there off to the side, but Dels returns his attention to Thea, gives her a quick smile and a thumbs up.
R'iahn snorts at Pol, giving her a long look. "'course you are. And I'm a teenaged girl." Apparently, his sharp tongue's bridle only extends to…you know, Sigam? "Don't come cryin' to me when you're bleeding." Muttered next, with a churlish look for Sigam. But oh wait — hatching. Attention properly re-focuses on the event at hand, eyes narrowing faintly at the hatchling. Whatever notes he makes are kept to himself, a slight frown forming as he eyes the group of candidates.
Song From The Depths Egg broods, silent and still to the onlookers, but is it really? Perhaps things are not all they seem, for the egg, though unmoving to the eye, if one were close enough to lay a hand on its murky black-shelled surface, one would feel a constant vibration thereon and hear a faint keening that dances the range of scales, rising, falling only to rise once more. Movement? Of a sort, yes.
K'ael nods to Thea, but he doesn't make any attempt to move around over to them. Azaeth isn't going to be able to move around in here, and he'd just assume stay by his bronze, even if Azaeth wasn't going to pay him any mind whatsoever. Or at least that's what he'll claim later on. There's a nod to Sigam as well, though Farrah is given a 'look'.
"It's cracking!," a child somewhere in the back yells, eliciting a chuckle from adults and a sharp shushing from his parents. The enthusiasm is catching, however, and soon candidates are shuffling and peering, attempting to get a better look at this first hatchling. A green? Whisper, whisper. Someone's father makes a bet with his neighbor, who accepts. Even off the sands, traditions endure.
Sigam's smile endures, eyes shifting over to appraise Farrah. "Should'a seen it after the storm. You couldn't swing your arm and not hit a dragon. This isn't bad at all." Indeed, most of the dragons usually found in the Annex have been ushered out if possible. "Hm. Green first." The Dragonhealer's eyes go distant, matching the egg to the shell it came from and wondering if their studies and predictions had been correct. Others had their clipboards and their paper work, but he had left himself open to helping in case of an emergency, not to stoop over paperwork. He'd have to ask later. "Deny them? No. You wouldn't be able to if you tried," he says belatedly.
Thea doesn't seem bothered in the least by Azaeth's entrance. Used to being around dragons, she simply has her attention elsewhere - mostly on Seryth. D'son's thumbs up has her twitching a smile and her shoulders relax. But then, Seryth is behaving, greeting the first hatchling with a croon of pleased welcome instead of her previously anxious vocalizations. Her eyes shift to the box. As K'ael declines her offer, Thea just bites her tongue and stifles a sigh. She tried? "Sir, if you want to go talk with him, I'll be alright."
The darkness roars. Midnight green is limned with forboding depths of the blackest black and the sickening verdant of a storm-poisoned sea. Whorling in a vortex with splashes of angry froth is the Engulfing Gyre Green, eyes spinning madly, agitated. Hesistation is not her way - she is a slow and steady force, moving in the lithe manner that clearly assures you that there is no escape from her darkest depths. Bypassing the girls, she raises her chin to turn all of her insanity upon a single boy - Cecron - whose legs immediately crumple beneath him. "Charybdth, stop!," he cries, on the verge of tears until, at last, the moment passes. C'con stands slowly, almost as if in pain, but soon enough he leads his new lifemate outside.
"Yeah? Okay, just for a minute," D'son murmrus quietly to Thea, and takes a few steps back out of the way at a slow pace so as not to alarm Seryth then edges over by K'ael. "Hey man," he greets his friend amiably and reaches over to clap him on the shoulder. Manly style.
Finally, all their work is validated! Pol stares open-mouthed at the storm-colored green at first, eyes wide as saucers, but then her charcoal stick is flying across the paper, eyes skimming over the frothy green and her hastily-made notes alternatively. "Impressed to… Cecron…," she murmurs under her breath, taking a second to try and remember the candidate's name as she finishes filling out the dragonet's chart.
That circular crack on the Barnacle Encrusted Egg is now a web of interlaced lines that undulate in a wave of movement as the creature inside seeks release. Finally they simply give way, allowing Dines with Whales Blue Hatchling to slither out.
"They look healthy," Farrah approves, folding her arms across her chest. "If firelizards can hatch out on a beach, I'm sure eletric sands will do just as well for dragons."
Tebriqua, a litte wide-eyed with the usual wonderment, takes time out of watching the other candidates to review this first hatchling. A green, huh? Intriguing, especially considering she hadn't expected Cecron — C'con, now — to impress. She'd have to keep one eye on the boy in the future, that dragon looked dangerous. And now, a blue was out on those fake sands… Her nerves were jangling.
Azaeth watches the first pop free, he doesn't give any sort of vocalization though, just intently watching. K'ael seems to be doing the same, until D'son pats him on the shoulder. He turns to smile at him. "Hey, Dels. Keeping an eye on the eggs for me? It's a little cramped in here."
D'son nods an affirmative to K'ael's question. "Yeah. And Thea, because Seryth's been super antsy," the Weyrleader tells the other bronzerider in a low tone of voice. "This is old hat for you now though, yeah?"
Thea nods at D'son. "Yeah. Go on. Guess he thinks I'm gonna bite or something." Her voice quietly aggrieved by the bronzer's reticence. And she is on her best behavior tonight, too! Her hand is still moving in that slow rub to the queen's hide. As the green impresses, Seryth barks a short sound of disappointment, but the junior sighs in relief. One down! She draws a long breath, her hand patting Seryth, but before the queen can continue to berate the green for choosing someone, there is a blue to distract her. She trills at it. 'Come on baby!! Come to Mama!'
The Undulating Toxicity Egg shimmers and shifts, gaudy multi-hued fronds seeming to billow with an invisible wave. It moves to a music all it's own, deeply inhaling, subtly in motion before it stills, bated, breathless.
R'iahn snickers faintly at something or other, watching the greenling move around. It might not be a typical hatching, but a hatching it is, and he's cautious. And not a little bit tightly wound! The sound of an egg cracking has him starting a bit, then scowling, arms re-crossing after some earlier distraction. "Well done." The man mutters quietly for Sigam, with what might actually be a grin. "Look healthy. Obviously did it right with the incubators." He nods, attention flicking to the clutchparents wryly. "Though I'm sure they have something to do with it." If the gold or bronze are listening, they get the faintest of smirks — ballsy little man, Riah — before his attention is wholly on the proceedings once more, eyes narrowed in thought.
Sigam nods in agreement with Farrah, his own hands bracing back against one of the counters. "They do look good. I'm glad - who knows how things could have gone." Nervousness returning, the Dragonhealer chews on his lip, eyes trying to watch everything at once - Impression, hatching, candidates, fellow Dragonhealers - as if waiting for something to go wrong. "I just hope Seryth doesn't hate us for keeping them from her. She'll forget soon enough, but… It was a good idea in the end."
K'ael nods to Xanadu's weyrleader. "Well, yeah. But not like this." He waves around. "I can see why she'd be nervous, stuck in this sort of enclosed space." Azaeth stares at Seryth's barking. Has she lost her mind? Of course it was natural for the gold to want to keep her babies close by. For Azaeth, it just seems unnatural. Eggs are for watching, babies are for riders. The bronze gives a huff to R'iahn. He's fathered plenty of healthy clutches! Why should this one be any different, just because they're in a box?
As timbers will splinter under pressure, so does the shell of the Laid to Rest in the Depths Galleon Egg. The pressure is from within as the one inside seeks freedom from the confines that hold it. The shell does not crack or shatter, it merely chips along the side.
As waters stirred by an undercurrent, Song From The Depths Egg moves, a rippling crack surges as the dragon writhes within the enclosed space.
"Clutch looks good so far," D'son says and nods. "Yeah, it's not the usual, that's for sure," the Weyrleader agrees. Thea's earlier remark about K'ael only earned a little shake of his head and another reassuring squeeze for the goldrider's shoulder. "Azaeth seems pretty okay with it all though. Go figure."
Arms tucked around her stomach, Lisila watches the ons-going with a mild bit of trepidation. That last green hadn't looked the /least/ bit agreeable. She knew for a fact that all dragons weren't so… ill-seeming… but maybe the fake sands had addled these ones? Chewing on her lip, she studies first the next hatchling - a blue - and then the other cracking eggs, wondering who would be next. Fret-fret-fret.
"If I catch you ogling that Candidate again, boy, I'm going to backhand you." Comes the voice of the old woman from the sidelines, while the boy scowls up at her. "I'm not. M'am." He mutters, and she promptly assigns him to something involving the gathered just-in-case supplies on the sidelines. Looks terribly boring — and she looks smug, as she quietly makes a notation on the clipboard. "Healthy, loud, annoying as all children…" Muttered of the latest hatchling, though maybe not so much, as she casts a glance towards her errant pupil before focusing on the eggs once more. Can't look away from anything young for too long!
Thea can't help but smirk over at R'iahn's comment. She heard that! But the pair of dragonhealers get a thumbs up as not one, but two have successfully hatched and look healthy. Seryth ignores Azaeth and continues to try and lure the blue with sweet trills and whuffles sent in his direction. Thea just murmurs to the queen. Perhaps not words, even, merely sounds soft in her throat. It seems to be helping.
Dines with Whales Blue Hatchling lifts his nose, sniffing for something - over - that - way! And he is off with a smooth movment, almost swimming towards the white -robed figures. It is with an impatient squeal that he nudges a short dark-haired girl in a manner that suggests 'Feed me - I could eat a whole ocean!' Lisila, blinks in surprise, "Ceireath, yes. When you're older I'll swim with you. But food first, yes?" The pair move outside where the meat has been prepared.
One of the candidates shifts, nervously eyeing the Dines with Whales blue hatchling with a gulp. Well, can you blame him? The dragonet had looked entirely too hungry, and despite all assurances otherwise, he couldn't help but be reminded that he was meat, too… Looks can be deceiving, but the candidate is visibly relieved when the blue selects Lisila out of the crowd instead.
"So fast," Farrah says, almost under her breath. "No wonder people always say a dragon's first though is hunger - I can't even see where the placenta would be, if there's even any left."
The boards of the Skeletal Shipwreck Graveyard Egg crack slowly, time finally taking its toll and pulling its sides apart right down the center. Grey particles that have settled on its shell split and kick up dust, but at least for now, nothing emerges from within.
The Undulating Toxicity egg doesn't so much crack as part, a subtle little splitting of its whispering tentacles to one side or the other in a smooth, rounded line. Something moves in there, something with promise, with song, with a million whimsies and taunts and chants, something alluring, and on the whole, dangerous… Yet, whatever it is, it seems content with its progress so far, motion ceasing for the time being.
K'ael nods. "Seems alright, given the circumstances. I guess it's a good thing it was here in Xanadu that it happened." He shrugs a bit. "Azaeth had forgotten about it until he was reminded. He's not a very good clutchfather." Or maybe it was just him being his usual stoic self.
R'iahn grunts faintly at Sigam. "Only option, right?" He asks with a one-shouldered shrug. Azaeth gets an almost-grin for his huff, the corners of his lips twitching mightily in an attempt not to grin at the bronze. Instead, he inclines his head slowly, managing somehow to look mature. Thea gets a repeat of the nod, but the smile does faintly appear there, before it's replaced all-too-quickly with a scowl for the shifting candidates. /Somebody/ doesn't remember being a candidate, apparently. He's just getting old. Mutter.
"There isn't much at all left to sustain them at this point," Sigam agrees with a nod. Again he appraises Farrah, this time to eye her knot more carefully. "It's why it's so important that candidates be on the sands and /ready/ by the time eggs are hatching, and why we keep the food nearby." Ah, it was all so logical. The Dragonhealer's smile turns from tense to genuine at Thea's look, his thumbs raising in approval for the hatchlings thus far. Sure, they weren't the predictors one usually looked for - bronze first meaning a healthy clutch, et cetera - but they didn't seem to be having any trouble finding theirs, and that's what mattered. "Right," he nods towards Riah, lips lifting away from his teeth in a grin. "You were there, surely you remember." He doesn't /say/ the word 'Alzheimer's,' but it's implied.
This is too much! Seryth is disappointed by not one, but two of her babies going astray. She edges forward despite Thea's mental restraint, her neck ever so slowly stretches out towards those Candidates and the eggs beyond. Snort! Her hot breath must surely be felt by some of them. The junior sends a silent appeal towards K'ael if he can catch it, then her eyes slide with a significant look towards Azaeth. A hint. She misses both R'iahn's nod and Sigam's return smile while glaring at Seryth.
Finally, with a last ear-splitting squeal of old wood, the Skeletal Shipwreck Graveyard Egg crumbles apart into dust. The hatchling within lurks there a moment - hesitating, biding time? - before finally shaking free and moving to stalk the candidates. The Island's Doppelganger Brown is on the move!
Pol scribbles away busily, mouth moving as she wraps up her notes on the first green and flips a paper, moving on to catch up on the blue. One of the candidates notices her at work and nudges the another. "Look, Varaen. Isn't that a Harper's job, to record all this?" The candidate in question glances over, then shrugs, not at all interested in whatever the brown-haired girl was doing. "I dunno. Must be something for the Dragonhealers." Saying it in a way that ended the conversation, Varaen returns his attention to the artificial sands, waiting to see what would happen next. Then - WHUFF. Startled, Var nearly leaps out of his skin, eyes shooting wide as he backs away from the irritated gold. "Uh. Nice Seryth?" He bows again, for good measure.
Varaen's not the only one put out of sorts — another backwards-shuffling girl's foot wraps around one of the wires travelling between the glorified sandbox and the incubator. She goes down with a squeak, unharmed, but the plug clatters to the floor. While one onlooking Dragonhealer helps the girl to her feet, keeping a wary eye on that newly-hatched brown, the two posted next to the incubator move in tandem, one amping up the temperature of the other heating units to compensate until the other man can push the plug back into place. Nearby families look on, still and hardly breathing until the Dragonhealers share a look and lift their thumbs in a gesture that everything's alright. Crisis averted.
"Maybe," D'son says hesitantly. "I meant hot sand is hot sand is hot sand if it's got it's own you know, heat, instead of an electric mechanism," Xanadu's Weyrleader says thoughtfully. "Something to be said for nature there, huh?" He chuckles a little at K'ael's claims about Azaeth. "Can't win 'em all?"
The murky waters part as the dragon inside Song From The Depths Egg erupts from within, throwing off the shell with an ease that indicates its desire to leave. A transformed lean and lithe Hungry Like A Wolf Brown Hatchling, stalks its prey, movements deliberate, stealthy movements.
K'ael blinks a bit, happening to catch Thea's look out of the corner of his eye. The bronze steps closer to loom over at Seryth. Let them choose their own! It would be hard to take care of multiple clutches, let alone her rider if she had tons of babies hanging off her all the time, of course. There might be a bit of a grumble of warning there, too. If they had to, Inimeth and Azaeth could move mountains. "Well, that's true I guess. But not many places have an alternative, if something happens to the sands, is what I meant. Heh. What can you do?"
Farrah looks startled as one of the candidates topples over, but as no one seems to be bleeding, her interest wanes. "At least it wasn't one of the dragons," she points out, cheerfully.
Keiryn's eyes dart over towards the fallen candidate, frowning in visible disapproval. "They need to be more careful," she comments to Tebriqua, tongue clicking in the annoying manner most girls tend to adopt when around one another. "Certainly," the thinner candidate replies, distracted by the pair of browns. "I mean," Keiryn continues nervously, "they could scare a hatchling, and they could squish us!" Her fears seem to be unimportant to the other candidate, who merely shrugs. They lapse into silence.
R'iahn's arms cross and uncross as he eyes Thea, then Seryth, and shakes his head. It'll be over soon enough, and there's not much he can do — other than sit and scowl at the candidates a little. Well, the ones who insist on talking, at least. When the girl goes down, he quickly rights her, though he keeps far out of range of any dragonets, quickly moving to the sidelines after a remarkably quick scolding. "Of course I do." The man grumbles to Sigam, as if nothing had happened, rolling his eyes. "I'm old, but I'm not senile. You're the one on that route." Here, he flashes a smirk, before turning wary attention back to the hatchlings.
"Small blessings!," Sigam quips to Farrah, mouth twisting to one in a grimace. "That's the last thing I wanna patch up today - a brand new dragonet." He shudders at the thought, having clearly almost aneurysmed when one of the plugs popped out of the incubator. He knows he can trust the people he's left in charge… Yet, he still breathes a great big sigh of relief when the plug is back where it belongs. "Tell me about it," the man grumps at R'iahn. "Thanks for getting her, by the way." The candidate, he means.
Seryth is ignoring Thea for the most part as well as any influence Azaeth may try to exert. She continues that forward creep a few inches. The Candidates are ignored as well in favor of the two hatchlings moving nearby. Chirps and croons towards her offspring doesn't bring the response she's wanting, so she rises. Perhaps they can't see her? Thea, flashes K'ael a look of gratitude as Azaeth looms, but she moves to stand in front of the queen and leans against her anyway. Not that her weight can do a thing, but it is perhaps an outward expression of her mental effort to still the gold. She's missing fallen Candidates and the plug disconnect with her focus entirely on Seryth.
Laid to Rest in the Depths Galleon Egg is torn asunder by the occupant, who has lost patience with its restraint. Majestic Herald's Crest Bronze Hatchling stands and surveys the realm in which it finds itself for a breath before sailing forth grscefully with wings held high, proud flags that announce, « I am here! Adore me! »
"Bronze," Farrah notes, for the benefit of the note-takers or the mind-addled. "Bronze is good, yes?" Even if it did take a while to show up. She draws closer to Sigam as Seryth strains against Thea's invisible leash.
Poor Pol, in the meantime, is starting to regret being so adamant in taking this job off of Sigam. The hatchlings are coming far faster than she expected, and with parents pressing in around her and Dragonhealers scrambling to right candidates and head out the door to take measurements of the new hatchlings, she's quickly losing her vantage point. "Brown? Or is that a blue? Oh, shardit, well, that's definitely a brown, wingspan…" she's muttering to herself, eyebrows jerked together. She nearly leans off the counter and hugs Farrah for providing the next color, gratefully flipping another sheet to scrawl more notes. Poor girls' gonna have carpal tunnel after this. Varaen watches her again, silently amused, but the bronze is demanding attention, and it's attention he gets from the boy, all wide-eyed adoration for the majestic dragon.
As if pushed apart with a great exhale, the Undulating Toxicity egg melts, whip-cord feelers piling away from an egg-wet hatchling. The egg's insides cling in a long, stringy mess to Sirenusia's Smoldering Seduction Green Hatchling, much like an anemone to its most recent catch, but the dragonet tears away from these things with a strong glide, form rippling in the artificial light.
R'iahn's shrug is vague and his grunt grumbly. "Figure she would've made an even bigger mess if she'd thrashed around for a bit. Stupid girl." The man growls, absently rubbing the back of his neck. Pol is glanced at out of the corner of his eyes, for all his grumbling still worried that she might /actually/ fall and break her head open. Mutter. The bronze is noted with a raised eyebrow, then the newest hatchling not as much amusement, more clinical curiousness. The man mutters something quietly, then casts a glance around quickly, before re-focusing.
Azaeth lets loose a rather throaty growl. It was bad enough they were stuck in this tiny area, she didn't need to be crowding things anymore. « If you care to see another clutch, you'd do well to let this one alone. » What does she want with them anyways? They're out, they're healthy. They're impressing. Why feel the need to bring them home?
White-haired and terrifying, that old woman still looms, piercing pale blue eyes prodding holes in even the confidence of one of the candidates, who subtly shifts behind a companion. The woman's younger companion is back now, and he abruptly snaps to attention when she murmurs something to him. He promptly launches into a quiet report, heard only by the candidates closest to them — whatever he's saying, they don't look too comfortable by it. The old woman is calm, though, and merely nods in the end, handing him back the clipboard and focusing on watching the hatchlings toddle around instead of writing notes. That's what serva — er, students are for, after all.
Hungry Like A Wolf Brown Hatchling locks eyes with one certain Candidate. Drawing near, it pounces! « Mine! » Both go down in a heap of flapping wings and a billow of white robes. From the pile Keiryn answers, "Yes, I am yours, Akhluth and your claws missed me!" The pair disentangle and rise to be led towards the meat tubs outside.
Farrah watches the poor healer girl strugglign to scribble things down and notes - in the sotto vocce of Healers thinking aloud - "Couldn't it just as easily be done after the Hatching? Headcount and measuring and whatever else?"
"Yeah, a bronze is always good," Sigam responds in an offhand manner, his own eyes focus over on Pol as well. "I knew I should have taken that job from her, but she's so stubborn sometimes… I wonder where she gets that from." The Dragonhealer glares little daggers at R'iahn, fully blaming the man even though it was /Sigam/ that the girl studied under. Cough, cough. And then, a pounce! The man jumps, body going tense, but when Keiryn announces that the dragonet had done no harm, he relaxes and manages to look generally calm and definitely not irritated at all. Nope.
Seryth huffs and gives a growl-snort aside to Azaeth, ignoring the threat as she keeps her eye on the three hatchlings. Her pleading calls are unheeded, a fact that doesn't help her nerves. Her movement to rise has seen Thea taking a few staggered steps back and Thea is missing all the action in the hatching area. Seryth backs up to begin pacing in the background, berating her spawn for abandoning her. Thea steps after her with her eyes half-closed. Seryth's tail twitches back and forth as she seeks another spot to gain entrance. This movement brings her closer to where Azaeth, D'son and K'ael are standing with Thea following, of course. Poor K'ael. Seems he's not going to totally avoid the junior after all.
Pol flips back a page and adds 'Keiryn' to the second brown's notes, eyes lifting to glance at Farrah again. "Do /you/ remember which eggs they hatched out of? I don't, and I'm the one writing!" That said, she returns herself to her work, giving the new green a good once-over before taking out the last chart and setting to work on it. The end was in sight!
Is it a brown? A blue? It's nearly impossible to tell, for either color could be masquerading as the other. A sandy-textured tan leaks across the back of the Island's Doppelganger hatchling, sprinkling neckridges and heavily coating the top of his wings. He moves with the slow sluggishness of one with all the time in the world, the murky blues and browns of his body war for dominance, appearing to be the roiling surface of a dark lake or ocean. Speculations raise, bets are exchanging behind backs, and just when it seems the turtle-paced beast has passed everyone up, he turns to the girl nearest to him. Tebriqua's eyes fly wide with a soft gasp, vision going hazy until she turns a glare on all the whisperers. "His /name/ is Docheloth, and he's a brown, obviously. Come, Doche, your T'qua will take good care of you." She marches off, the Island's Doppelganger Brown in tow.
R'iahn tries not to flinch too much at pouncing dragonets, raking a hand through his hair and muttering darkly to himself for a moment. But then there's a smirk for Sigam, and a roll of his eyes, even as he keeps his eyes glued on the hatching. "I'm assuming, the ass she's got to listen to every day. Which one of you is that, again?" The man grumbles, not so much attentive and polite now that he's got a little bit of excitement from the day. Adrenaline! Can't help it! The clutchparents are eyed again, warily, and he's shaking his head, muttering darkly once more about parents. You know. Not that he acts out involving his kids. Nope.
Azaeth huffs at Seryth. At least she wasn't sicking her nose directly in the faces of any of the hatchlings. Calling to them wouldn't do much, they were pre-programmed to look for humans and their mind voices. K'ael didn't think he'd be able to avoid Thea the entire night, but wanted to try as hard as possible. He nods to her. "Seryth okay? She seems a little… testy."
Majestic Herald's Crest Bronze Hatchling's voyage ends before a tall, copper-haired candidate, finding in him a vessel for his presence and friendship. "His name is Wyverth! And he is hungry," announces V'raen. The pair are guided outside with the other newly-hatched dragons.
Farrah reflects on Pol's comment and realizes, "Well, no, not really. Perhaps it would be easier to assign one person to an egg?" Ever the Monday-morning quarterback. Already nervous around Seryth, she is not happy when the dragon rears, or begins pacing.
"It might be easier, but… Well, what she said." Sigam frowns up at Pol for her clipped tones, but he doesn't reprimand her immediately - she's working, and in a way, the quiet girl was at least standing up for herself, something they'd been working on for a while. "Hey," the Dragonhealer grumps, putting his hands on his hips as he turns to face Riah, "watch it there, buster. She's going to be old enough soon that she could be /your/ instructor. How about that?" He laughs his way through the threat, attention only diverting when one of the candidates speaks up again. "Ah, the bronze impressed. Good." Whatever relief was there is promptly wiped out when Seryth goes beyond crooning and begins to move. "Get back!" Moving forwards and depriving Farrah of her shield, Sig motions with his hands for the candidates closest to the gold to move out of the way. It wasn't that he didn't trust the gold dragon, but she wasn't exactly herself at the moment, either.
For the time being Seryth is halted by the crush of bodies around her eggs and the combined influence of her rider and Azaeth. She takes her frustration out on the bronze by sending him a rumble of ire. Thea steps closer to her, standing just in front of her right foreleg, placing a hand on her again. She turns her head to answer K'ael since she's standing right beside him. "She hasn't been able to cuddle her eggs in weeks and she-." She never gets to finish as the bronze impresses and any restraint on Seryth is overcome by Thea's brief inattention and the fact that there is only one hatchling left. The queen moves forward. Anyone in her path had better step to one side! The foreleg clips Thea sending her reeling backwards. And Seryth? She makes it to the side of the tiny green in an attempt to talk it out of leaving her. Momma loves you, baby!
D'son clasps hands behind back as the hatching goes on, nods at Thea's approach. "She's very protective, looks like," the Weyrleader says neutrally with a little smile for each of K'ael and Thea. When Seryth barrels by though, his eyes widen a touch and he reaches out a steadying hand towards the goldrider. "Whoa there …"
"That's not supposed to happen, is it?" Farrah remarks, in a strangely calm voice.
Seryth's rumble of ire falls on deaf ears. Azaeth has been host to a variety of dragons over the turns, and one young queen being angry at him wasn't enough for him to get worked up about. The bronze eyes her for a moment, but then turns back to watch the babies. K'ael meanwhile is blinking at Thea. "What does that mean?" Then he blinks as she's sent flying by her own dragon. K'ael moves to help her. "Azaeth!" The bronze moves to try to shove the gold away.
Pol's mouth opens and closes, head tilting down at Farrah, unsure how to reply when Sigam's 'get back!' catches her attention. "Freaking dragons," she mutters quietly under her breath, sliding off the counter and setting her unfinished clipboard of paperwork aside. "No, I don't think so," she murmurs quietly towards Farrah before she slides towards the crowd, attepting to drag some of the more foolish candidates away from the cruising gold.
R'iahn manages not to look too irritated as V'raen, chatty fellow, Impresses. He does snort a little, focusing a wry look on Sigam, before he's snorting once more. "You look like an old woman," Is commented, with a significant look for the Scary Old Lady. "First off. Second, the day that girl is my instructor, is the day I'm becoming a farmer. You're bad enough." Here, he snorts, before suddenly things are in motion and then Thea's sprawling. "Bloody sharding dragons —" Is all that can be distinguished among the man's muttering, as he keeps out of the way of the man helping her, and focuses on trying to help Sigam. And ignore chatty candidates and healers and young people. But he's not grumpy at all!
Sirenusia's Smoldering Seduction is the green mystic, the marvelous, the seductress. She is the illicit absinthe, the sparkle in celadon eyes. She is sheathed in forested lace, the electric shift of green silk against one's skin. Her movement is practiced, planned, viridian wings stretched wide to reveal the pattern of strong morning sun through a tropical canopy. Outspoken, she croons, reeling her darling candidates in with her siren's call. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Several become fascinated by this, eyes going dim as though in a trance, others turning to whisper and nudge to their companions… Yet, the green looks over each of them, fixing them all with her whirling, hypnotic gaze, and dismisses them all in turn. They are not hers. Her beautiful face crumbles with distress at her mother's interruption, then turns vicious, a hint of her inner nature flaring before, at last, her gaze focuses with a snarl. "Oh shards," one of the young Dragonhealers breathes, dark eyes flying wide. She is then shoving every candidate and friend alike aside, flailing like a dragonet herself to get to the green. "Peisinth, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't know you meant for me to- I should have- Oh, I'm going to be in so much trouble." Pol's gaze shifts nervously to look up (and up, and up) at the looming Seryth and the intercepting Azaeth, but something the green says makes her eyes fly wide and fearful. "Of- of course not! No. I'm - Right. Well, uhm. I guess we should… go, yes go. And uh. Sorry, Seryth." Head ducking low, Pol presses one hand flat to the green's side and shifts through the others on her way out of the doors, ignoring whispers, stares, and gold dragon alike.
Thea's backwards motion is halted by D'son and maybe K'ael. "Thanks!" It's a brief word before the junior is moving towards Seryth. The bronze's head looming distracts the queen and in that moment, impression is made. Seryth sends forth a plaintive reproach as the pair head off, whuffing her disappointment over that. She calms quickly, blinking at Azaeth. Oh, hai. Thea blows out a long breath, turning back to the Weyrleader and K'ael. "It means she's overly irate because her eggs were in that box for several weeks and I am worn out keeping her calm." This is all said with as much sweet courtesy as she can manage. Adrenalin indeed!
Farrah has abandoned Pol to her own devices as Sigam tells her to get back, so when the other girl Impresses, the Healer is watching from afar. "Congratulations!" she calls out, cowardly shrinking into the barest semblance of a nook.
Azaeth takes a moment to properly stare at Seryth. Crazy women! He doesn't actually say anything to her, though, just giving a general huff in appreciation that the hatching was over and all the babies were safe. K'sel meanwhile nods to Thea. "Well. Now you can relax. Congrats and all." Azaeth is already making his way out of the stuffy annex, and it's looking like K'ael is waiting to head out after him.
As family members dart forwards to grab up their candidates as well (See, this is why we have stands!, Sigam is thinking), the Dragonhealer merely grumbles and lets them go. "Thea, you okay?" Sigam asks, eyes devoted briefly for her even as a skinny elbow knocks into his side. "Ow, what the-" Peisinth? What? Sigam's eyes widen almost comically as his assistant - /his/ /assistant/ - apologizes to Seryth and marches off, the dangerous-looking green dragon in tow. "Wait, what?" Smart one, isn't he? Slowly it sinks in, a wide smile dawning on the man's face, and then he's whooping. Sigh. How embarrassing. "Yeah Pol!," he adds onto Farrah's congrats, turning to give the Healer and the grumbling R'iahn a wide grin. "Did you see that?" I mean, you'd have to be blind to miss it, right?
Thea inclines her head in response to K'ael, "Thank you. I intend to. Thanks for coming." She even smiles as she says it, although there's a slight flash of annoyance in the ice green eyes as she does. See? No biting and no crossbow shooting. Sigam's question has her turning her head with a quick grin, "Yeah, D'son caught me." Now why does that suddenly cause her to snicker in the Weyrleader's direction for a moment with mirth dancing in her eyes? Then she's watching the dragonhealer's enthusiasm with some confusion before her face clears. "Ah, your assistant? Well, she had to handle the eggs." She shrugs. Seryth moves past and on out. "She's gonna go feed. Good night and thanks for all your help." She includes all of the dragonhealers in that heartfelt and sincere word.
R'iahn's too distracted to do more than cast a concerned look towards Thea and a glare for the gold. Then he's scolding a candidate who moves too quickly (because apparently, it's his favorite thing to do and it really doesn't matter that he doesn't live here), briefly, before somebody whisks the boy away. Then he's left muttering darkly to himself, stalking back to Sigam's side. "Yes, I saw that." The bluerider drawls faintly, glancing after Pol — he did, too, though at the time it hadn't really registered. "Apparently you did well with her, Sigam." This is muttered somewhat less-gruff-than-usually for the younger man, with what might pass for a grin. Then he's nodding to Thea. "Enjoy not being stuck in here, goldrider." Muttered with a vague snicker, as he glances around warily.
D'son shoots Thea a little amused look, though his ears actually get a little pink for her joke. "Well congratulations, all set," Dels says happily as things wrap up. "And Seryth can relax now and you can get out of here and take a break, Thea." The Weyrleader turns to K'ael though with an offer: "Beer? Buy you a drink?"
K'ael nods to Thea. "Sure thing." There's a bit of a brow furrow at Thea's look of annoyance. K'ael turns to D'son when the weyrleader offers him a drink. "You should take your weyrwoman out." It's not meant to be sharp, but it's definitely showing the signs of an exacerbated K'ael. He wasn't used to having to work so hard at a hatching.
"I think she's going to bed," D'son notes about Thea as the goldrider exits, letting that sharpness roll over him though there's a brief, hesitant look towards the other bronzerider. "And it sounds like you could use it, Mike?"
"Was it?" Sigam, done being a proud, proud peacock (for now) turns to beam down at Farrah. "I'm glad you, er, enjoyed yourself, then. Maybe you should be a Dragonhealer." He's teasing, of course, rolling his shoulders to relieve tension he hadn't realized was there. "Well? I did /fantastically/. Never expected her to Impress - she's always said she was scared of being Searched, but… I guess dragons have their own way of taking care of such things." Quick, shut him up before he starts gushing like a teenager! Ruuun! "Sounds good - I'm glad you guys can leave now. Bet you didn't know what you were in for, when you said you'd be willing to come up here anytime," Sigam murmurs to Thea, amused, before someone else's bar talk bings a little lightbulb up over his head. "Hey, we should celebrate, too. It's a perfect occasion. I think I might have a wee spot of rum left over from the beach." He leaves the offer up to Riah and Farrah both, his eyes watching the other Dragonhealers packing up the abused sands.
K'ael turns towards the exit, then sighs a bit. He relents. "Alright… I guess I could go for a beer, in that case. Lead the way, Dels." He makes a motion towards the door after stretching out a bit.