Visiting Eggs

Xanadu Weyr - Observation Level
Dark blue seats form a semi-circle around the sands below, the lowest row separated from the multicolored red and white sands by merely a railing. The seats climb upwards, each row a bit higher than the previous, and they are broken up into sections by three sets of staircases. Between the first and second section, a glass wall descends to separate the observers from the heat of the sands. Air is kept in motion through a set of fans, and so these seats are quieter and cooler than the rest… though the noise and heat of the sands is still present.

Lights are evenly spaced along the outer wall, lighting the seats and the sands easily, though they tend to be dimmed unless a major event is taking place. A large balcony overhead connects to the glass wall. Vents for cooling run along the bottom of it, and the ledge provides a place for observers of the draconic kind to watch without obstructing the view for others.

The sand below is variegated in hue, individual grains of red and white that have a pinkish hue when seen from across the circle of the hatching grounds but - up close over that railing - are clearly two varieties mingled.

The first time Shiloh was here, he entered with curiosity. The second time, with caution. And the third? He still casts a wary eye toward the sands and the dragons that (might) occupy it, but it's tempered with the confidence (however tenuous) that they won't actually attack unless provoked. Leirith he has met, and she seemed nice enough (though he would not stake his life on that by daring to approach the sands uninvited), but Xermiltoth is an unknown and, as such, cause for a little concern. Which is probably why he insisted upon them — him and Avi — climbing to the tallest tier in that semi-circle of seats, to put as much distance between themselves and the Sands as is possible to put. Does that make the clutch a little bit harder to discern? Probably.

Averil gets it. And while he thinks it is a little bit funny, he's still more then willing to entertain Shiloh's caution. At least enough that he's climbing readily to that highest row of seats and stretching the moment they are there. "This is a great vantage point," he decides as he turns on the balls of his feet and looks out toward the sands. "You can see /everything/ from here." Course it is the eggs ever so carefully nestled in sand that attracts his attention, his lips twitching in a faint, warm smile. Babies. Baby anything is going to make Averil smile. "So many and the colors…"

They can see everything! They just can't see it in much detail. But that's fine. This is fine. What details do they need to behold when it is just eggs? At least, that will be Shiloh's logic if asked to explain his seating choice. Besides. Isn't it a whole look cooler up there? And, being summer, every little bit helps. Dropping to a seat, he curls forward to rest his arms on his knees, one foot jiggling somewhat anxiously until he stubbornly sets it to stillness. "So many?" He lofts an eyebrow at Avi before sliding his gaze the way of the sands. "Suppose so," he agrees. "Last one was… three?" Was there a clutch after Inasyth's? If there was, clearly Shiloh doesn't remember. Probably because it was that fateful first one that scarred him for life. "Did you bring your sketchbook?"

Averil exhales a delighted laugh as he drops down onto a seat next to Shiloh. "Of course I brought my sketchbook." In the wake of the words, he pulls his satchel into his lap, adjust the hem of the short sundress he is wearing over his thighs. "It's a bit far to draw very well, but I can get the dragons." Which, for Avi, is just as exciting. Crossing his ankles, he tucks his feet under the bench, shift-shift-shifting until he is snugged up against the beastcrafter's side. "I think it was three," he admits as he flips to a blank page and settles right in to blocking out the scene on the sands. "I should have brought colors with me," he muses as his gaze sweeps up from the pad the eggs arrayed below.

Shiloh is just gonna sit and squint toward the sand and try to get his brood going. It's a bit difficult to do it well, given that Avi is sitting and grinning next to him, and looking so cute in his dress. But Shiloh will try, anyway. "Good," comes with a glance toward the sketch pad. There might be a little wince of apology for the mention of it being too far to see the eggs, but he won't actually apologize. Because that might result in them moving closer. Which would somehow be bad. Maybe? Sigh. "Do you want to get closer?" comes in lieu of comment on colors, the beastcrafter sliding another look toward his artistic companion. "We can go down a few rows."

Averil blinks at the offer, the sketchpad lowered to his lap as he leans up and kisses Shiloh's cheek. "I'm fine here," he promises. "I can draw the dragons today. Besides, eventually, we'll be much, much closer, so." He can wait. Some things just shouldn't be rushed, in his opinion. "Besides, this way, if other people come in to look, I can still see over their heads." And seeing over people's heads is not something Averil is at all used to being able to do. "Eventually," he notes as he blocks out the dragons with broadstrokes of charcoal. "We're going to have to go to the barracks and claim cots, though. The last thing I want is to be on the opposite end of the room from you." Pausing a beat, he slants a quick glance around them to make sure no one is close before whispers. "It's a very gloomy room despite the windows."

"Tiered seats help with that," teases Shiloh, for seeing over people's heads. But he won't push the subject. If Avi's content to stay so far away, he's not about to insist they get any closer. He shifts in his seat, sliding back until he's slouched against it, hat dropped onto his knee. He peeks over to watch Avi at work, finding the eggs far less interesting than the artist beside him. "Not till they harden," he argues with a snort. An eyebrow arched, he regards Averil with a longer look before asking, "You wanna move in sooner? I thought you didn't want to move in, but you keep bringing it up."

"What?" Startled, Avi looks up, mist grey eyes wide as he quickly shakes his head. "No. Absolutely not." The protest is breathed as he sets the charcoal down, his chin ducking as he takes a moment to compose himself. "I just.. I just don't want to be in the middle of the room, or surrounded by strangers. I know nothing is going to happen," he adds quickly. "I do. I just.. The thought makes me very uncomfortable." And while they will still be in a space full strangers, having Shiloh close will make that far more tolerable. "Do you think they'd notice if we still kept our room?" Having space to retreat to would definitely help with his anxiety surrounding the whole affair.

"You've brought it up at least three times," points out Shiloh, eyeing Avi beside him. "If you're so anxious to pick a cot, you can pick a cot." That might be a little harsher than he had intended, and a moment later there's a breath and a tip of his head to stare at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," comes as he straightens again, twisting to face him. He reaches for one of his hands, closing his own around it. "We're gonna be okay, Avi. You are gonna be okay. I'll make sure we have a pair of cots side by side. An' if it's anything like the other barracks," the craft barracks, "it's the ends by the door people wanna avoid." Because of the foot traffic. "So, you won't be surrounded." A little grimace comes with a pointed look as he says, "Yeah. I think they'd notice." Frown. "We're not giving up the rooms. We're just not gonna be there for a while."

Averil couldn't look more stricken then he does in the wake of those words. Still, he does level best to hide it, the tip of his tongue brushing over his lips as he lowers his gaze. It is only his hand being taken that has him looking back up, pale grey eyes searching dark brown. It is only when Shiloh has finished that he exhales a breath, his chin dipping in a faint nod. "Alright." That Shiloh is going to take care of it has him exhaling another breath, the sketchpad closed as he sets it aside and squirms in closer against the beastcrafter's side. "I don't mean to get so anxious,"he promises. "I'm trying really hard to take this all in stride. It's a lot though." A lot more then he is accustomed to dealing with.

A little tug seeks to bring Avi all the way into his lap, so Shiloh can wrap him in his arms. "I know," he confirms, apology in the words. "But it doesn't have to be." A lot. "Nothing is changing right now. You're still an artist. I'm still a beastcrafter. We still live in our rooms. Our routines are the same." Mostly. Maybe some minor changes, though Shiloh's not about to focus on them. "Those eggs…" The ones they're supposed to be looking at, even if they are a bit too far to see details. "They're not changing anything right now. An' they're definitely not changing us."

Averil winds his arms around Shiloh's shoulders as he's drawn into his lap, his head tilting to slant a glance toward the sands. After a few long moments, he dips his chin in a slow nod, his head lowering to rest on the beastcrafter's shoulder. "It's not their fault," he admits. "The eggs. We both know I was neurotic long before they were laid." He can't help smiling, though, a content sigh spilling past his lips now that he is settled in Shiloh's lap. "I do like that one," he points out as he gestures toward an egg that looks like it is a chaotic jumble of all things shiny, gawdy and fun. "It looks like the jewelry drawer in my studio."

Shiloh presses his face into Avi's hair, a quiet, short-lived laugh offered. "You're not neurotic. You're just you." And for Shiloh, he's pretty perfect. A little sigh and he lifts his gaze, chin resting atop blond hair as he peers down toward the sands. It's probably a good thing Avi can't see his expression, given it goes a bit stricken at the sight. "It's very… interesting." That's a nice way to put it, at least. Maybe it's for the best that they're so far away, and Shiloh can't quite see the details of all that gawdy disarray.

Averil doesn't /need/ to see Shiloh's face, that much is clear in the merry laugh that spills past his lips. "It's fabulous," he points out in teasing tones. Even from the distance, he can't help but be charmed by the jumbled mess of /everything/ wonderful in life in one place. "Clearly either Dame or Sire have an artistic soul." Something he approves of on all possible levels. "Makes me wonder if what if is on the outside is anything like what is on the inside. It also," he adds in wry tones. "Reminds that I need to tidy up my studio." Cause it is just as bad of a jumbled mess and he can't pretend otherwise. Twisting in Shiloh's lap, his expression softens as he looks up, grey eyes crinkling at the corners.

How could Shiloh resist claiming a kiss in the wake of that smile? He can't. Which is why he steals one, quick as it might be. "Sketch your eggs, Kitten," he teases, going so far as to tug on a lock of Avi's hair. "You can tidy up your studio tonight." Or forget about it entirely in the time between now and then; either way Shiloh won't complain.

Averil exhales a quiet laugh as he twists back around, settling his back comfortably against Shiloh's chest as he reaches for his sketchpad. He's cozy and safe and more then happy to remain firmly on his perch while immortalizing dragons and eggs in charcoal. "You'll have to remind me," he notes in teasing tones. "We both know I'll find something to distract me from the thought of tidying up." It's after a moment, or two, that he glances back at Shiloh and flashes a far more pleased smile. "Careful, Kittens have claws." That it's a /completely/ hollow threat is obvious from the twinkle in his eyes as he turns back to his rendering.

Shiloh's arms settle comfortable around Avi's waist, giving the artist free reign to sketch his heart out. Does it matter that the beastcrafter's view has been reduced to blond hair and pretty shoulders? Nope. He's not looking at those eggs in the first place, so he's not about to complain that he can't see them. And while he could peek over Avi's shoulder and either down to the sands, or to his sketchpad, a better use of his time seems to be nibbling at one of those shoulders and up the line of his neck. "Mmhm. I've seen your claws," he teases. "I'm not worried." But he's not going to provoke him, either. A final kiss to the soft spot behind his jaw and Shiloh settles back with a sigh, letting Avi sketch without distraction.

Exhales a sound that is pointedly feline in nature, his head tilting enough to the side to allow Shiloh access to his throat. "You know you have nothing to worry about," he murmurs in warm tones. Avi? About as threatening as a powder puff on his very best day. With Shiloh settling back, he gets back to work on his drawing, his gaze flicking between paper and sands before he finally gives a firm nod of his head. "I think that is it for now," he admits. "I'm starving," and it is about time for dinner. Setting the pad aside, he twists in Shiloh's lap, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'll grab us food and we can head home?"

Shiloh might have nodded off. It's peaceful. It's warm, even with the air circulating. It's quiet. So he startles just a little bit at Avi's works and takes a moment to recover from that bleary-eyed look of 'whut?' that passes over him. A little breath and a stifled yawn and he's back, aware enough to nod along with the offer. "Okay." A little tap has Avi up and Shiloh following, a quick stretch given before he's claiming his hand and heading them for the stairs. Food. Home. Rest. A routine that Shiloh can get behind.

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