Xanadu Weyr - Hatching Arena
The hatching arena stands proudly at the southern edge of the clearing. Dark stone walls lead to a domed roof of tawny orange, an orb like Rukbat's glow or the shell of an egg. There's a footpath that leads along the outside of the building and passes along a hatchling-sized tunnel cut through the edge of the mountain to the west.
The foyer extends out from the front of that dome, a tunnel grand enough for a queen to enter. The central doors can be thrown open to allow massive amounts of people into the foyer with ease, the well-lit space both having many thick-paned windows as well as spaced lights along the walls. Smooth tile has carefully been laid on the floor, a variety of orange hues reflecting the pale tan of the walls. Wide areas have been left unadorned - perhaps for future artistic endeavors - on either side of a pair of low, bronze doors which remained closed the majority of the time, as they lead to the sands themselves. A pair of wide staircases on either side lead upwards to the observation level.
The Dragonhealers' Annex is a bulge on one side, entered through the foyer or through a pair of outer doors less adorned but no less massive, and to the other side, tucked against the side of the building, are Candidate Barracks.
Evening Rituals around the Xanadu hatching complex vary greatly depending on the day, sometimes they are reasonable and sometimes the absurdity that seems to breed like tunnelsnakes around this Weyr takes the lead, and things get bizarre. Today is not a strange day, really, except that Evangeline has decided to have some peculiar sleepover in the door to the hatching sands. The matress from her cot has been drug down, placed in front of the entrance so that one door is blocked. The door is being held open by a large rock, and the summer evening offers a small breeze that relieves the heat minutely. SItting on her mattress Evi has packed a full picnic, meat rolls, a thermos full of warm milk, cookies, and bread are all easily seen inside a basket next to the makeshift camping spot. The girl herself is wearing her day clothes, a white shirt that goes to her forearms, and a skirt of bright lavender, and she is lying on her stomach with her elbows bent hands being used as a chin rest for comfort. Murmurs of conversation can be heard, but only one voice, and it seems more like a monologue. "SO LIKE— get this, she said she would move to Fort and Visit, but had NO winter clothes so her first night she almost lost her TOES." A mischievous, gossipy giggle can be heard. Who she is talking to and why this elaborate sleepover set up is happening is anyone's guess, maybe she has finally lost it.'
Helping out in the infirmary is potentially one of Khavro's least favorite chores, so while he's no doubt relieved to be done with that for the day, he's still recovering enough that he's got the whole resting grump face on. Though, who are we kidding, that's kind of just his face. When he spies Evangeline in her little camp out sesh at the entrance to the Sands, he pauses to take in what's going on with an all too easy furrow in his brow. "Are… are you okay?" he asks the girl as his steps quietly work on bringing him closer to where she's talking to herself.
Every now and then a girl needs some girl chat, OK. SO what if your conversation partner does not respond and never remembers any of it. The point is to be heard. Evangeline happily kicks her feet in joy, grabbing a cookie and nibbling around it. The sound of someone behind her has her holding up one hand to something or someone out on the sands, "One moment, sorry!." The happy, overly perky sing-song lilt calls out to the unknown conversation partner. The dirty blonde weaver girl flips herself over on her butt and pulls her feet underneath her, all at once, she is criss-cross and facing Khavro, "Um, hi." For all her happy sing-song was a second ago, facing him, she sounds shyer, and the uncertainty that tinges her voice makes her quieter. "Um ssoooooooo, you see." Pausing and wiggling her head, thinking through her explanation, "Somedays, I come and talk to um- well to Ilyscaeth, she listens well, and Citayla says she likes it." With a small scoot back, she pats the end of the mattress, "I have cookies! Come watch the eggs!" As if enticing the man to join her late-night girl chat.
As Evangeline explains what she's doing, Khavro's pale green eyes shift focus past her toward the Sands where the dragon in question spends so much of her time. "Ah," is all he says in response, though, glancing now toward where the girl pats the end of the mattress for him to join her. "Are they doing anything interesting?" he wonders out loud, perhaps humoring the younger candidate more than actually caring what eggs might be doing. "I figured all the fun was in actually touching them." For some peoples' definition of fun, anyway. Maybe not his. All the same, the curly-haired young man comes over to settle down and partake in a cookie.
"They don't really do anything." Evangeline says with a shrug, as if that might not be the point of it all. "Every now and then, Xermiltoth will move one, or they will shift them. Um." As he joins her, there's a happy bounce, the ebullient girl more than glad to share her ritual. "Well, yeah, touching is good. Ma always said babies can hear in the womb, maybe my lifemate is here and like, MAYBE she or he can hear me." Both shoulders go up, and her hands lift towards the ceiling, the universal pose for 'Idk.' The cookie is some sort of nut and pern-equivalent coconut, soft enough to have been baked recently. Shifting her weight around to stare out at the eggs, she points out to one that is dark blue (Light of the Mother Moon.) "So that one is my favorite, do you have a favorite?" Asking while grabbing two mugs out and pouring the milk into them, she obviously prepared for the company. "Milk?" Offering one of the cups to Khavro and staring out into the sand.
Khavro nibbles at his cookie while he listens, thoughtful. Probably also tired, but still thoughtful about it. He glances from the eggs to Evangeline to say, "Sure," as he takes the milk he's offered. As for which is his favorite egg, he can only reason, "Some of them feel better than others when I touch them, but I don't let myself think I like one more than any of the others, I guess. If one of them is mine, they'll be mine whether I like one of them the best or not, I expect. Or not." Either way. He takes a sip of the milk after finishing off the rest of his cookie.
"None?" Evangeline's voice is skeptical, amused, and her lips purse in thought. "You could be right." The ways she says this hints that she is not overly convinced, "I have been reading through history, and touching eggs is important. I mean, nobody knows but if you were like. Lost. Or a searchrider never found you, your lifemate might not be yours at all." Her most recent thought rabbit hole is a big one, and she doesn't explain it very well. "BUT this doesn't explain how sometimes someone who has never touched or been near the eggs impresses." The mystery behind dragons brightens her eyes; she is staring out at those eggs like they might be filled with untold riches, all the secrets to everything she ever wanted in hard-shelled wrappers. Evi is peak comfortable right now, "I um, never told you I was um- sorry." A deep sigh, face turning red, "I did not know queen flights could do that. " The flight was months ago, but it must weigh on her, her hands go to her lap, and she spares a glance of brown-green eyes at the man. "I am Evangeline, by the way. I don't think we have met, or if we did, I sorta forgot." A tone of chagrin as she extends a hand for shaking.
"The first one I touched felt the best, I think," he points out the Kissed by the Wild egg. "But I wouldn't say it's my favorite." Because Khavro isn't saying that about any of them. He's obviously not quite as fascinated by Impression theory as the younger girl. If he knew what she was going to say next, granted, he might have tried to linger on all that stuff. Because her apology has him clearing his throat and shaking his head. "It's fine. Probably for the best you came along." Distracting and all. "Khavro," he offers his name in case she hasn't picked it up in the sevens they've shared the barracks, nodding at hers as though confirming that it is indeed her name, more than willing to move on from the Flight Incident.
Evangeline keeps quiet for a few moments post apology, the cookie still in lap pressing her hands underneath her rear and rocking side to side, possibly relieving tension. "That one- ." Pulling her gaze back to the eggs, searching for the egg, the man is pointing at and nodding. "That one, ok. Why?" Mentally marking it down so she can remember on hatching day. "I knew I'd heard your name, sorry." Sipping milk and allowing the silence to take over for a moment, lost deep in thought. Finally, Evi turns back to her sitting partner, "Can you imagine yourself? As- um. As a dragonrider? Do you see it? Like in your head?" The hand not holding the mug taps her temple, eyes deep and searching for something. "Some nights, I can almost do it. I almost see it." The proximity to the sands has emboldened her, an ordinarily quiet reserved girl. This might be more words then she has spoken around him ever.
Why? That seems to be a question Khavro didn't fully expect for whatever reason. He frowns, pensive, then shrugs. "It just felt right. I don't know. I don't give it all much thought. I guess I can see myself as a dragonrider, but I know I'm not picturing it the way it would actually be, so why waste the energy?" They are obviously very different people. Though for what it's worth, he doesn't talk much either, so this is probably the most he's ever spoken around her, too. "Like if I'm going to impress, I'm going to impress. If I'm not, I'm not." What happens will happen. "There's not much I can do to change it, so I'll show up and deal with whatever happens afterwards." Story of his life!
"That's alright. My egg felt kind of cat-like. She liked me." Evangeline has even sexed the poor thing, her voice fond. "I guess we do not have much control." Her head tilts one way, then the other. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she pulls out 6 folded squares of paper, unfolding one she smiles. The paper is COVERED in writing, ranks of everyone, and relations wrote out as a guide through life. Turning it over, the backside has drawings of each egg, "I'm going to put your name here." She indicates below the drawing of kissed by the wild egg. "Then, whether you're right or wrong, you can remember." All of this seems pivotal, writing and recording, examining details. "Do you- um, not get excited? Or feel like um- you WANT more?" The mindset of the candidate next to her has piqued her interest, "I mean, if like. NOTHING you do or um- think matters then why well. Why do anything?" It's a fair question, one that comes out in a babble of sound and could probably use revising.
"Okay." Khavro won't begrudge her whatever joy she gets from her data sets. Everyone has their thing, presumably, even if it's not his. Though what his thing is could be anyone's guess. Possibly even his, considering his reaction to her question. He's silent for a little longer than socially acceptable, like maybe he won't answer it at all. Then, with an almost self conscious shrug, "I don't know. I guess that's part of why I accepted this knot?" But he doesn't sound sure about that, either. "Sometimes just being alive and living in the moment is enough, I guess."
Evangeline nods several times, head tilting to one side and brown-green eyes taking Khavro in with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, a quizzical expression made comical by the over-exaggeration of features. Writing his name below Kissed by the Wild egg, she folds the paper back and places it in her pocket. The prolonged silence is noted by Evi but not commented on or treated as anything but an absence of sound. Worming her way off the bed and standing up, a big yawn emitting from the girl. "Thank you for coming. You know, if you need to talk, Ilyscaeth will listen." Yep, offering up the dragons listening ears instead of her own. Well, with draconic memory, your secrets might be safe. Though, with these dragons mouths, your secrets might not. "Want to help me drag it back in?" Hand motioning to the mattress.
"Thanks, but." There always a but. "I think I'm good." His secrets will stay in his own head until such time as his own lifemate can rifle through them. And if that's not in the cards, they'll just be safe forever. "Sure, I can help." It'd probably be rude at this point to just go back to the barracks and leave the younger girl to drag her stuff along by herself. And Khavro is only rude to people who are his size or bigger, apparently.
The food and beverage items are organized into the basket, and one end of the mattress is grabbed. When Weyrlingstaff complains about the weird wear and tear on the beds, well, at least these two will now why. A shrug is her only response to his secrecy, possibly because she has nothing to say and possibly because she has secrets too. Maybe both. "Thank you! Took me forever to get it out here." The two of them together will make short work of it, especially with Khavro being stronger and more coordinated then Evi may ever be.