Gold Leirith and Bronze Garouth's Eggs Hatch!

Xanadu Weyr - Hatching Sands
A domed ceiling stretches high above the sands, enough open air for a queen and her mate to be comfortable with their clutch. Thin slits of windows around the edges let in a little light, though more of the illumination comes from electric lamps diffused off the dome. The sands are ringed by the dark blue seats of the observation level, the first third exposed to the sweltering heat of the sands but those in the back glassed off for the comfort of those watching.
The circle itself is filled with a mix of red and white sands, deep enough to cover the largest of dragon eggs with ease. To one side, a small door is visible, hidden away behind a platform meant to provide a place for the clutch parent's lifemates to stand during the on goings.

Public Announcement from Risali: « WHY HELLO THERE. WHY ARE YOU THERE WHEN YOU COULD BE HERE, WATCHING MY PROGENY BE BAD - WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T SAY THAT WORD, RISALI? BUT THEY LIKE IT. FINE. YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT. COME WATCH MY BABIES! » 10 minutes until those eggs all hatch! If you want to come cheer on Xanadu's candidates, please +go xaw, ha, ol

There couldn't have been a worse time for Xanadu's dragons to start humming, not when the call to the sands came in the midsts of a snowstorm; not when the black of midnight was made deeper by clouds, and snow, and the troubling nuance of zero-moonlight-and-therefore-zero-visibility. And let's not even talk about the fact that the hot springs and half the kitchens are still closed because they're being sterilized from PLAGUE RATS TAKING BATHS, which means most the Weyr population is - in addition to being asleep - probably also hungry and SMELLY. But it came, Leirith and Garouth humming, the weyr's dragons taking up their song, Risali and D'lei both braving the cold and dark of frozen night to trek through the weyr half awake and make it here — to shiver as the heat of sands rises up to soak into chilled bones and replace some of the feeling lost to toes and the very tips of fingers… and glance at each other when a particularly strong gust of wind makes the overhead lights flicker before resuming their artificial glow. It may seem like the worst time, but it is time. Garouth's vigil is nearly over, and Leirith is on the move. The gold's excitement is tangible even if she is quiet save for that hum, those watchful eyes on her eggs as the lives within them stir and threaten existence while they wait — most impatiently — for the Candidates and their AWLM's to make their appearance.

Umbral Egg shivers on the sands, as if all that pent-up anxiety and fear has reached a peak and it can wait no longer, shifting onto its side and rolling closer to those other eggs in an attempt to blend in.

Embrace the Memories Egg twitches. A movement that may have easily been missed in the chaos of the hatching. But then there it goes again! Another twitch, this time powerful enough to cause some of the sand nestled against the side of the shell to slide away. Third time's a charm though and the egg no longer is coy about its movements as jerks viciously and then rolls onto its side a few feet away from where it was.

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these candidates from completion of their designated task… or more accurately, it's the weyrlingmasters who can take credit for keeping these candidates in line, ushering the group out onto the sands in the midst of a blizzard. Despite frigid temperatures and less than ideal conditions outside, it appears as though all of the candidates make it to the sands, with none left to sit outside as human popsicles awaiting the spring thaw. Although it's hardly in unison, the candidates do manage the basic task of bowing to sire and dam without supervision. They've got this, people. They probably won't even get maimed.

<Galleries> Tanit sneaks in and hides somewhere behind R'hyn.

<Galleries> Merek has come into the place after traveling, though with all the weather it means that he had to find a place to settle in at. Once he hears that the dragons will be choosing their riders, he cleaned up and has come to watch the people. He is dressed in his black attire with a scarf on, and a lot of things to keep comfortable such as a fur coat.

Meion takes a deep breath at the edge of the sands. Everything's a little bit of a blur, as she wakes up fast with equal parts klah and adrenaline. She looks out across the hatching arena, and pauses when she sees the parents - giving Garouth a quiet and respectful nod, and a grin to Leirith that implies a bit more kinship with the gold than she had back when she was last on the sands. Without giving herself time to doubt, Meion walks out onto them, looking for a spot where she can stand with some space about her. She gravitates toward Cielo, coming close enough to squeeze his hand and quietly remind him: "Everything is fine." Then she flashes him a playful grin that might be flirting, and takes a few steps to take up a spot that's not too close to him - or anyone else!

Sylvarin continues onto the sands with the rest of the candidates after bowing, but it's unsurprising that he's staying somewhere in Nessalyn and Rhodelia's vicinities. His gaze, however, is trained upon the sands and now apprehension is clear on his features. "Here they go already…" The words are nothing more than a quiet murmur amongst fellow candidates.

N'kon is totally recording this for posterity. Make sure he gets your best side! That is, if he stops taking pictures of the reigning couple long enough to actually capture the Candidates in action. Wut?

Elayne is as quiet as she has been for much of the last few days, her bow to dam and sire executed as manners would have of her before she flips the long braid of her hair back over her shoulder and finds herself a place to stand where she can keep as much of what's unfolding on the Sands in her range of sight with as little movement as required. She squares her shoulders and clasps her hands behind her, lacing her fingers together and levelling her focus on the eggs.

Umbral Egg splinters, a spiderwebbing of hardened shell that leaves intricate patterns throughout so much black. It shivers with more force this time, flecks of outer-casing falling away without leaving any real hint as to just what it is that tries to escape from inside.

Cielo does not drag his feet. There is a restrained hurry, a gait that is captured glee. Yet he holds one arm against himself as if to fend the cold, despite the comforting heat of the sands. Fingers curl close to his chest, and then release. This will be the last time he sees the view like this, one way or another. "Ah-" He feels a hand clasp his, and dares a half second look at Meion before holding tight. "Yes it is," barely even a whisper. Then eyes forward.

<Galleries> Xh'vyr is, quite appropriately, here on business: a heavy-duty delivery from Monaco Bay, and him in his Zephyr uniform of deepest blue and gold trim. He cuts a figure - nothing like a well-groomed man in uniform, and Xhae's picked the one with the colors that graciously complement his ruddy visage. The bronzerider picks his way through the crowd, eyes with fond nostalgic cant focused on the sands below. Evidently the allure of a hatching is enough to catch him, despite the stray and strange hour.

Nessalyn isn't thrilled that this is all happening so suddenly (didn't she have at least two more sevens to prepare?? no? okay), but there's some strange sort of comfort in keeping in close proximity to Rhodelia and Sylvarin. They, at least, are of a mindset she understands. "So… who can we shove out in front of us to prevent maiming?"

Rinian continues, after the bows, to find her place among the candidates. Her eyes go wide and she almost forgets about how nervous she is when she sees the eggs moving. She notes the spreading of cracks and tipping of eggs… How is she supposed to capture that sense of motion in the carving she is supposed to do? She takes a quick look around for Mathis, being sure to be somewhat near her Woodcrafting friend.

Meion stands with hands at her sides, fingers very deliberately splayed out, in the manner of someone who would be clenching them if she weren't so entirely focused on unclenching them. A quick grin at Cielo's reply, even as she's watching those eggs move, that dark one in such a hurry to hatch.

Rhodelia may have turned into an ice sculpture as soon as the bows are done with. She's even turning a bit white as she stares at the eggs and slowly, ever so slowly backs away and preferably behind Sylvarin. Don't mind her finding a meat shield after all R'eyn's bloody talk. "You can shove anybody as long as it's not me. I'll take you with me."

Ajral definitely waves at N'kon and smiles for the camera, in the event that he turns it toward her and not the clutchparents, but she also can't blame him for just wanting to take pictures of Leirith and Garouth. Her braid gets a little nervous tug — please stay in place — and then she takes a long deep breath. "This is insane," she says, just airing that for the sake of posterity. "We are all standing on sand that could cause third degree burns if anyone falls, with dangerous creatures who will claim some of us for life. It's nuts." JUST SAYING.


Sylvarin's muscles tense as the eggs begin to start dissolving before his eyes. His wrinkled brow doesn't keep his gaze from shifting from one ovoid to another. "I'm fairly sure we'd be kicked out, Impression or no, if we purposefully used meat shields…though I volunteer that odd weaver if we must." He'll glance to Rhodelia with a quick grin but it's likely not as reassuring as he'd /hope/. He's freaked out too!

Mathis releases his hold on Rinian's hand following that bow and makes his way out among the rocking eggs. Finding a place that seems relatively safe from whatever he's imagining might happen, he exhales quietly to himself and looks around. This was actually happening, wasn't it? Indeed it was and he ties not to look as nervous as he feels, as well as sending out positive vibes. He'd heard about maiming and he wants none of that. He might be edging back towards where Rinian had situated herself though and soon he's standing relatively near.

Kera helps herd the last of the candidates onto the sands, then sidles around to join the rest of the Awlm staff.

Umbral Egg vibrates with more energy — more, and more, and more — until it caves in a depression at the side, a soft-spot of shell that one nose pushes through, followed by one paw, then another, then another…

N'kon is totally taking pictures of Leirith and Garouth and not their riders. Of course. That's it. Excellent decoy, Ajral. For that - *snap*. And the other Candidates for good measure. Right. Yearbook.

Nessalyn briefly snorts a laugh. "I know you will." It's why she likes the bartender. "That's why I'm asking who." A considering glance goes to Sylvarin as he suggests the weaver, her gaze drifting toward their potential victim before she offers up a swift nod. "That would work. Or Boat Boy. I think they might actually reward us for using him as a meat shield."

The Riddle Before Your Eyes Blue Hatchling
Dark teal shadows are brightened by turquoise, blotches and spots that vary in shape and size - as well as hue, for those patches of more vibrant color against the darker background shift from cyan along his dorsal side to ventral aquamarine. The transition of hue is gradual, though with a clear overall gradient - but it's only when he's viewed from a distance that those individual spots of color combine to form a dragon in gestalt. He's overall slight in build, with a delicate muzzle but a prominent forehead whose brow arches over large eyes. The sweep of large head-knobs extend that brow-ridge and make it seem yet more prominent, their dark teal crackled with veins of platinum white along the curves and dusted by coal at the tips. He's short from nose to tail-fork - though neither neck nor tail are lacking in their curve, the whole body proportionate (if small) - and his body is lithe and lean, the sort of slender shape derived less from elegant grace and more from simply forgetting to eat. Along his back, a series of large cyan splotches follow the curve of his spine, while varied smaller ones make a space-filling pattern of his sides as their hue gradually shifts to the oceanic aquamarine of his belly. On his stomach, two larger patches of that greener hue might evoke twinned continents - one between his forelegs, one between the hind - but those vague shapes against dark ocean might as easily be a trick of the pattern-seeking eye. The turquoise-marbled teal of his wing-spars support sweeps of cerulean veined with marble-like streaks of light and darkness whose paths roam and intersect in another of the random-seeming patterns out of whose varied all-but-noise appears a dragon.

Meion breathes deliberately, eyes flicking to her fellow candidates in the sparse moments when they're not fixed on one egg or another. Now that the moment is here, she's not sure if she's hoping she'll impress, or completely terrified of the prospect. As the eggs are starting to open, it's becoming real that there's something inside each. SomeONE. And someone is coming out.

Kaellian is near silent on entrance into the sands, though if anyone can own this oversized robe, this guy can. As all part their ways into that white-clothed candidate ring around the eggs, he remains in shadow behind the mindhealer. Whatever faint grin was on that maybe-puffy lip has faded, and his jaw works in a bit of tension he wouldn't otherwise admit he has. "That's one way to think about it." He drawls in an almost-whisper in a slight lean towards her when they've come to a pause, "Or, that all of this is what you've been waiting for." His accented voice sounds unphased, his humor still alive and well in there even if it is a bit more gravel-touched than normal.

Sylvarin frowns as even /more/ eggs begin to move, "This…seems fast. What if they charge all at once?" Because this is a true concern for him. And then the first hatchling appears and suddenly his hands are curling into fists at his sides, knuckles going somewhat white. "Really? He looks like he could take a hatchling though…could be an experiment." But his words are quieter now as he /stares/.

The Riddle Before Your Eyes Blue Hatchling looks around him with a clear sense of curiosity and wonder, his attention first on those bits of eggshell that lay scattered all about his feet (what's this?!), then towards the towering, watchful attention of his dam and sire. WHAT'S THIS? Sorry, candidates; it seems as if he hasn't noticed you just yet. First he must press his hatchling snout against Leirith and Garouth alike, maybe seeing if he can eat them (nope, no such luck there), and then — what's this? His attention is snagged, and clumsy hatchling-feet carry him away towards discovery.

Mathis is drawn to the sound of something bursting into reality and that was the arrival of the first hatchling. There is was all right, bluer than blue. Gasping softly he prods at Rinain with his elbow, pointing him out. "Look Rin!" Oh yeah, this was real all right, can't fake that.

Cielo is the very picture of serenity. Who taught this boy to lie with his face? Once things start to get really wild, he should prooobably let go of Meion, but not quite yet. Eyes curiously follow the Umbral egg as it roamsandstarts hatching! Already he is awestruck, eyes wide and whatever tremble was in his fingers gone-. Though few can perhaps tell.

<Galleries> Teinon arrives with feet covered in slush and muck, and his clothing not much better. There's always plenty for the weyr's animal-tenders to do when there's a blizzard, as all those animals have to be protected (so they can eventually be eaten by dragons, of course). And yet… the dragons are humming. And here he is, shirking his duties, rushing up into the stands just in time to see the candidates bowing. He slips through the other onlookers until he can find a place near the front, almost leaning against the railing in order to get a better look.

Ajral has got your back, photographer man, no problem. Even if someone else has hers, because people are still breathing on her. "It's what some people have been waiting for — all of us if you take it literally," she agrees quietly. "I'm not sure if I want — " A blue hatching, that's definitely not the end of that sentence, but she did jump slightly when it happened. "Oh, I liked that one. That egg. The dragon is …" Something. Hand wave. It's a dragon. With an amazingly odd hide.

Embrace the Memories Egg has been there in the sand not doing much of anything for several minutes. Perhaps the occupant took a small catnap or needed to catch its breath. One may never know! A loud pop rings out as one jagged, solitary crack slashes diagonally from one side to the other. It stills for just a brief moment before the whole egg starts to vibrate causing more cracks zigzag across the shell. Bits of shell fall in on the occupant but movement has ceased yet again.

Meion stares, slack-jawed, as the first dragon emerges. Terror is replaced with wonder - though her heart is still hammering with excitement (and far too much stimulant to be good for her).

Nessalyn shrugs, blue eyes widening fractionally as she sees one of those eggs actually hatch. Oh. "So this is a real thing." It's muttered under her breath, almost as though she expected this whole process to lead to nothing. "I don't think they'll all charge at once." She's attempting to be reassuring, but it's not really in her wheelhouse - nor does she really know whether or not this is a real danger. "Just remember, we have meat shields decided already." So it's FINE.

The Riddle Before Your Eyes Blue Hatchling is distracted halfway through his march, coming to a standstill, ribs expanding as he draws in air and that tiny body vibrates with some kind of emotion. WHAT'S THIS? He ambles his way towards the stands, as if he might get a better view of all of the occupants there. And he does stare, inspecting every face, making a curious trilling sound and cocking his head to one side.

<Galleries> Percival is sitting in a chair, still donning his apron adorned with work related… things. He did kinda sorta dust it off a bit! It's just pretty colors, folks. He tilts his head to the side and spots the foreign Monaco rider, looking at him from heels to head… The butcher offers an amused snort, turning his crooked smile back to the sands. Everyone gotta try and be pretty. Percival gives himself a quick glance, smoothing his apron out all fancy like, then back to the dragons. The food is always better during hatchings. Suppose the baby blue dragon be 'aight, too.

Rinian was expecting something..well..something else. Like an eggshell slowly falling away and revealing a hatchling in pieces. But this..all at once! She ohhs softly, and then more eggs are shaking and she wonders the same. What happens if they all hatch so quickly?

Rhodelia shrugs to both Nessa's questions of who and the baker's question of when. "If they all charge at once, hope you're one of the lucky ones? I think the healers have some pretty good techniques for major cuts now." Although then she also notices the little blue and gives a gasp. "It's a dragon!" No duh. And Rhody here is captain obvious. "Is he going for the stands?"

Nothing To See Here Egg heaves left then right, tipping itself sideways in the sand without displacing itself completely.

Sylvarin hasn't realized he's holding his breathe, but he is…and the sudden whoosh coming from his lips coincides with a blink. "He's handsome enough." He may have been expecting monsters given his feelings about some of the eggs. "Right, plenty of meat shields." Again, just a touch of humor, and then he's staring a bit more. There may be a /touch/ of appreciation in his eyes.

Embrace the Memories Egg is having a party over here! Once again movement commences and little bits of shell go flying through the air like little pieces of confetti. Like a bomb getting ready to explode this egg shakes and quivers as mini explosions cause bits of shell to either fly up into the air or fall away like shattered pieces of ice. The finale is loud as egg shells burst in every which direction leaving a small hatchling upturned on its back in the wake of the disaster.

We Shall Have Spring Again Brown Hatchling
Smooth and silky caramel swaths this dragon's hide in sumptuous regality. This bold, leonine color starts at the tip of his nose, but as if it has been stretched tight, it is swift to grow palid as it inches towards bright, brilliant eyes. Creamier tones slide across his face, streaked here, freckled there, and one can almost see the colors shift and move as dark, medium and light twist, battle, and slip amongst each other, melting slowly into a rich, heavy loam that enshrouds a thick neck and strong shoulders in a ruff of gilded browns. This play of colors dances along his 'ridges and down stocky, stubby legs. It's these legs that will never match those of his peers, thick like trunks yet their length never amounting to what one would consider 'normal'. Caramel, chocolate and cream twine their way along his hide, spiralling along his sides before climbing like vines up an expansive pair of wings. These sails are what his limbs lack, expanding for what seems like days, billowing out behind him like they could have a mind of their own. Dark espresso can be seen peeking from beneath them as he moves, deep tones warming to rich milk chocolate when light filters through them. Finally there's his twitchy tail, long but solid as the rest of his form. One perhaps might think that this would weigh him down but it seems to bring him a sense of balance, sheer length and flexibility making up for any lack brought on by his body's sure, heavy steps. It is only when one inspects his hide closely does the nearly hidden flecks of pale white cherry blossom make their delicate entrance. Dancing down his spine like a light spring rain, these petal soft shapes start to dwindle half-way down his sides and are gone long before making it to the bottom of his belly.

Meion stares back at that beautiful blue hatchling, all colors and forms. She finds herself crouching slightly to reach his eye level, just so she can grin at him - remembering how scared he was in the shell, and now… So curious!

The Riddle Before Your Eyes Blue Hatchling finally loses his interest in the crowd and — what's this? There's a line of robed candidates just waiting to be found, and that blue does a stumble-trot towards them, clumsy and unsure of his footing but focused. He stills long enough to press his snout in against the hand of one hopeful, then draws back with a sneeze. Nope. That's not what he's looking for. Not you, not you, not you — wait a moment. He shifts on those paws to draw back in a shoulder-and-wings-and-paws tucked shuffle that ends with him staring straight at — yes. This one, with the brown hair. A press of that entire wedge-shaped head into her stomach seems to confirm that he thinks she is the most interesting one here.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the The Riddle Before Your Eyes Blue Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Ajral is absolutely, totally biased toward that one egg she loved THE MOST though, so even if it is not her dragon in there? She just wants to see that it goes to someone good, and so Kaellian at least can likely hear her breath hitch when Embrace the Memories moves. And then — oh. Hatches? Did it hatch? "Ooh, that one," there are the wiggling fingers again! "I really liked that one … But that, that is a boy dragon." So clearly not for her.

Mathis keeps watching them eggs, even with that hatching out, dividing his attention between them all and that keeps him quite busy indeed. Then suddenly there was another, a brown this time and again that nervousness grows inside of him.

Kaellian straightens, seablues finding the baker in all the nearby bodies. "Then you'll have to learn to dodge quickly, mate. Jump and roll, aye?" Right into all that fabulous sand and egg-shell remnants. He's fairly certain that is not how that saying goes, but distraction comes in the form of a blue dragon. His right hand rises, dragging bare fingers through forever messed black hair, and leaving it to sit even more askew than it had been. There's so much motion, it's hard to exactly pay attention to side conversations. Studious watch strays from blue to brown, the stillness of him denoting the.. caution of his being. That self-preservation that is waving some serious flags out here in front of teeth and claws.

<Galleries> Xh'vyr doesn't TRY to be pretty, Percy-dear, he EMBODIES prettiness. Masculine prettiness. Handsomeness? Whatever, he's aesthetic. Deal with it.

Sylvarin's attention is quickly bouncing this way and that, first to the blue and then to the brown, and finally back again. His neck cranes slightly to see where that little blue ended up. "It…really is all so fast."

Rinian oohs as another egg shatters leaving the brown behind. She is so failing to take good note of what the eggs look like as they hatch. She really is. The blue is making his way to the candidates about then and she can get a better look at him. She is ready to move just in case. She doesn't want to be between any of the hatchlings and whoever it is they want to get to.

Meion falls to her knees and goes wide-eyed, reaching her arms out forward, wrapping them around the head that's so suddenly there against her chest, and she's squeezing around it, hugging him, completely entranced. "Oh! Oh!" She nods emphatically, not sure how to reply to that voice in her head without speaking, so: "Euclath is a beutiful name. For a beautiful dragon. Yes, I'm Meion. I'm so, so glad to meet you out here, like this…"

We Shall Have Spring Again Brown Hatchling is a cocoon of wings and tail as it just lies there on the sand. It seems to be taking its time but eventually his long thick tail uncoils from the mess of limbs and extra long wings flop uselessly onto the sand. A lazy yawn tugs his little muzzle open before he rolls over into an upright position. For a moment he just stands there before he drops his head and stares at those little appendendages. A first step is taken but unfortunately that was a wing that his foot met with and he slips comically end rolls several feet away. Woooah. He lets out a surprised squawk and then finally turns to stare out onto the sands. What are all these things in white doing? Another step, this time more hesitant takes place, bringing him just a tiny bit closer to the candidates.

Scratches in the Night egg proves that the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And fall it does, with a great, exaggerated HEAVE-HO onto its side, splintering and fracturing as it rolls, and rolls, and rolls, and — THUNK. Stops.

<Galleries> Fine. Xh'vyr can have extra bacon in the morning. Maybe. Only if his prettiness can be used for evil purposes. Percival straightens up when the blue finds his chosen and he rests his crossed arms in his lap. Those babies sure move fast.

Nessalyn compulsively lays a hand upon Rhodelia's arm before quickly snatching it back, startled by the reality of impression actually happening. "This was a bad idea." Second thoughts, they're happening. "We need more meat shields. Or a door. A door would be helpful."
The Other Side of the Mirror Egg rocks and sways, teetering back and forth on the sands, the sides rolling as whatever it confines with in rolls, and moves, and attempts to escape. Just… maybe not yet. But soon. Soon it will be free.

Cielo goes oh-so-quiet, having long released Meion and even the phantom of her grasp. Lets go of all those fleeting feelings swirling for all around him he's shared such a flurry of life with in favor of this new, wonderful life. He tries not to dig a hole deep as he sees Meion and the dragon connect. Congratulations and well wishing and gushing and IMMENSE FUSSING will be had but for now, this is something he will only witness. At least until other marvelous hatchlings catch his gaze.

Sylvarin slips a smile in Meion's direction, "Congratulations." Though he doesn't expect her to hear him in all of this commotion! His gaze abruptly shifts towards the brown when his squawk fills the air. Eyebrows shift upwards immediately, "It'll be fine…" Now it's his turn to try and be reassuring, but the baker's voice honestly isn't that convincing.

Mathis pauses in the shifting of his feet from one foot to the other, "Did something happen?" And then he spies Meion. "Congrats Meion!" he calls out to her across the sands and maybe moves a little closer to Rinian. Safety in numbers and all that. But there were eggs still rocking and a hatchling about and so as happy as he was for his friend, he must remain vigilant. "Right. Eggs and hatchlings…"

<Galleries> Xh'vyr deserves extra bacon, because bacon is delicious. He curls his hands around the railing in front of him, disregarding rumors of plague rats, and leans forwards, his eyes tracking the dazed mess of a brown attempting to choose his future down there.

Scratches in the Night egg's surface rolls, the splintered fragments of shell bucking and heaving under the assault of whatever entity occupies its confines, the movements almost angry before claws and snout and dragon appear with a snarl — but there's something not quite right about this one. Something that says maybe it should get right back in that shell and bake a little longer.

Ajral is holding stock still because everything else is moving — this seems to be the best plan of action. She is breathing, and speaking, but otherwise, dragons. Eggs moving, and dragons. "What did she say his name — I don't know why I expect you to know," Ajral adds, because she would guess Kaellian of all people doesn't actually care. "That poor little guy," is said for the brown, "And also. This would be an awful place to roll. That's part of the problem." Too bad eggs need to incubate!

Rhodelia believes in no take-backs today and reaches out to grab at Nessa's arm even as she's drawing away. "Look, there are already two dragons out. We're halfway through and still fine?" She's being generous with fractions and forgetting the fact that she nerves might make her hurl her dinner at any moment. This is fine. As for Ajral's comment about boy dragons, she smiles. "He's a boy, but not a bornze…" So possiblities. "And was that… Meion?" Perils of meat shields, vision is limited.

Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling
Blackened, battered, and bestial, this bronze is brutal to behold. His is the hollow visage of a wraith made living, skeletal frame animated by some dark power, impossible and yet so hideously, viscerally real. His cheekbones are sharp and angular, jutting from his face like the crags of high mountains, making what remains of his features seem gaunt by comparison. The rest of his form is no less wretched, breastbone a gnarl-boned figurehead protruding against skin dark and mottled with age and decay. His chest sweeps back like the keel of a vessel once-fine, now ravaged by war and strife, sepulchral hide pocked with a faint verdigris crust that corrodes him from sternum to stomach. Gunport holes have been blasted into dingy brass sides, splintered void-black markings that shimmer with an eerie, oily sheen in the just-right light. This color is matched upon each 'ridge of his back, umbral tones pooling like so much pitch along the long, bony column of his spine before pouring down the length of each leg. Clawed paws end in silvery hooked nails, each viciously honed to a wicked edge. Wide wings fare little better, abyssal depths touched only by ghostly billows of smoke and ash, each a tattered sail that ends in ragged aileron. Only his tail shows any true promise of life amongst so much death, stygian depths etched with knots, twists, and leaves of near-gold along its bladed length.

Meion just grins, feeling that question in her mind and considering. She shakes her head after a moment. "I don't know. I'd love to find out, though!" She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, just feeling the solid reality of a dragon against her - of her dragon against her, and making her his. She's so completely consumed in the moment that she doesn't even notice Cielo, just moments after reassuring him. She can hear voices talking to her, calling her name - but they're all so distant, compared to the immediacy in her head.

Rinian can't help but smile as the first impresssion is made, but then she is distracted by more eggs shaking. The shaking eggs draw her gaze to the brown as he unwraps himself like a gift, and tries to figure out those adorably short legs and really large wings. She winces a bit in sympathy as he trips and rolls. Poor baby! In all the excitement she's even forgetting to be nervous.

We Shall Have Spring Again Brown Hatchling seems to be studying the sea of white that has been offered before him. Hes taking his time, looking each one up and down and when he finally gets close enough to one of the stragglers on the side he gives them a great sniff, seeing if perhaps his nose can determine which one of these things is his. His nose wrinkles and he lets out a sneeze before he shakes his head and moves on to the next candidate. Very carefully he wraps his wings around himself, like a great cloak that one may see someone very important wearing. And lets face it, hes important. Super important at least to one special candidate. He just has to find them and thats the real tricky part. But its so hard and his little head looks a bit droopy as he suddenly flops on the sand decides perhaps itll be a better view from down here. His long tail twitches behind him anxiously and he stares at it a moment as if it is being offensive with its lack of patience.

Sylvarin's jaw goes slightly slack at the appearance of the new hatchling and he runs a hand through his hair, "Now /that/ is what I thought they'd all look like." There's a slight shudder as he stares at it a bit more. He has to drag his gaze away from it to look else where, but…"Faranth…he's…" Words cannot describe!

Nothing To See Here Egg splinters, wide fissures running the length of matte black to form patterns that arc, and curl, bulging outwards as whatever rests within its confines tries to escape.

Nessalyn is definitely not nervous, Rhodelia. SHE'S NOT. "Right, and… that's a bronze!" It's spoken triumphantly, like his mere hatching has somehow been a win for her. "That's one less dragon for us to worry about. So we are halfway done." Gimme a V, gimme an I, gimme a C-T-O-R-Y! She eyes the bronze hatchling a bit longer, agreeing with Sylvarin's assessment with a mutter of, "Better hope he doesn't want you."

Ajral twitches her nose about as she notes the fact that that is a bronze, and thus — "They are all boys." This is a HUGE problem. Who would want a group of dragons that are all boys? Aren't most of them supposed to be greens? "Beautiful, yes, just like their parents," shh, they are, "But they are all male."

The Other Side of the Mirror Egg vibrates, fissures forming in hardened shell that spiderweb outwards, creating fingers of ruin that stretch, and deepen, and fall away in great chunks that reveal nothing, giving away nothing before it goes maddeningly still again.

Kera steps away from R'eyn and the other awlms, her steps leading to the blue hatchling's robed choice. "Congratulations Weyrling Meion. Let's go get him fed." The greenrider gestures and leads the new pair off to the side where vats of meat are waiting.

Cielo scoots as much as the candidate line will allow, offering Meion space to fall wholly and completely. He might not be able to hear Nessa and Sylvarin but he has reasons to look that way, tilt his head a bit, and peer long at the dragon they are slandering. Well. Cielo thinks he's beautiful. Somehow. Someway.

Rinian is with Sylvarin as the bronze shatters his egg and appears. That one….wow. Matches in looks at least what some of the eggs felt like. But she finds her gaze going to the brown again as he does his searching. When he lays down she gets a little worried, hoping he hasn't tired himself out so much from the hatching that he has trouble finding his mate. She's a bit relieved when he gives his tail that look. Surely he has to be ok if he can give it attitude, right? One of her hands absently twists into the cloth of her robe. Ok, so maybe she's still nervous after all.

Meion is spared having to contemplate the frightening countenance of the bronze hatchling by the all-consuming curiosity in her mind - the questions so intense that they aren't even forming, just skittering half-realized across her awareness. She's starting to realize how long it's been since dinner. How long it's been since she's eaten at all, really. Has she ever eaten? Really? Someday she will know her dragon's thoughts from her own, but this is not that day. She looks up at the sudden attention from Kera, nodding emphatically. "Yes. We're so hungry.."

We Shall Have Spring Again Brown Hatchling feels a great roaring growl rumble away from his stomach and that wiggling tail seems much less offensive than that empty cavern of a belly! Languidly he pushes up on those stubby legs of his and makes haste with a sudden dive into the fray of white! One can almost hear him murmuring apologies as he moves through the candidates, nosing at one, sniffing at another and hey, was that a nip at the hem of someone's robe? Certainly not! He's far too dignified to nip at someone, but perhaps taste would play a role in helping him locate his one? He had to rule that out but if you call him out on it, he will be in denial that particular even ever happened. Finally his trek seems to be coming to an end as his great paws slow and he stops at the feet of a rather small, brown haired girl. He looks up into her green eyes and then nudges at her gently with the side of his head. Ah yes, this is who he was looking for.

Kaellian lets his attention fall on the Impression, trying to see Meion's face to identify her among all the others swathed in white. He's not long on that, though, satisfied by the identification and yet.. says nothing. A flicker of his expression denotes something, of course, but it remains masked in shadow amidst the roguish outline and scruff of his face. The ripples of his own robe's left arm may indicate a clench of that hand- subtle, maybe nerves, maybe that ingrown need of getting lost when chance of injury is climbing ever-higher. Then more shells fall to the sands they'd been born onto, and the wicked bronze bids him pause unto his already too-still poise.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the We Shall Have Spring Again Brown Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling KNEW YOU WOULD COME. He sensed it in his shell, knew you couldn't resist, dared you to follow. And you did, here — all of you. That emaciated, skeletal body moves with jerks and dips that give rise to goosebumps if that insidious hiss that escapes him does not. Those eyes turn their wrongness towards the candidates, a still moment of assessment and cold, calculating — nope. Just kidding. There he goes, KERSPLAT, right into the sand. All of him crumbles to the ground in a heap of wrongness and skin and bones because somebody probably should have fed him wholesome thoughts and HERE WE ARE.

Rhodelia was just a bit early since NOW there is a bronze. She is okay with that and definitely not nervous. That's a figment of your imagination. "That one does look like he's not just going to eat a herdbeast, but roll around in it's carcass after he's done as a warning to the rest of the herd or something." He's FIERCE, just like his mama probably hoped for. "I mean, there are others not hatched… maybe the rest are all greens."

Mathis stares at the newly arrived bronze and he shudders a little, as if in visceral response. Much like Sylvarin, he can't look at him too long, and drops his eyes away, casting them off towards the brown and the other eggs that remain intact. He was probably a very nice dragon, he assures himself, never judge a book by its cover and all that. Taking a steadying breath, he looks back over and then away again. Reaching out he touches Rinian's hand in an effort to comfort but his was shaking faintly.

Sylvarin shudders again slightly and shakes his head, "I think I know exactly who is going to get /that/ one…" Or so he /thinks/. His gaze occasionally goes back to it but every time it does there's a slight frown. "Is it sick?" But he's trying not to dwell on it too long.

Nothing To See Here Egg crumbles inward, caving on its occupant in a way that's almost wrong, as if there was never any dragon within. But there was, and that silhouette rises almost explosively from the ruins, wing sails snapping out and sending egg flying in every direction.

Carry Me Above The Clouds Blue Hatchling
Azure blue and silver are his hues, this true-blue dragon masked in stormcloud black but bright where inner light shines through. His strong muzzle curves down at the tip, a sweeping aquiline profile darkened with a dusky mask. The tinge of jet along his muzzle continues up between his eyes, splaying along his brow-ridge and into the sweep of curved headknobs that almost resemble the horns of a mighty herdbeast. That dark mask is accented with white above his eyes and around the curve of his cheeks, a hint of blue showing through before that black resumes from the underside of his jaw in a dark patch along his neck and throat. Past the darkness of horns and mask is snow-white beneath snow-blue. The sapphire of his hide is tinged with a faint sheen of indigo iridescence, ready to catch the light when his broad wings are spread to catch the wind. Royal blue sails span between spars whose rounded tips cool to steely grey. The underside of those cobalt sails is the hue of white smoke, though it darkens to ash around his spars to make a dappled pattern of clouds in motion. The pale hue beneath his wings continues down along his stomach, tinged with a crackle of pale ice against the white. His hue darkens again on his legs, slate grey socks to warm those slender limbs and splay-toed paws. His tail is a long and graceful sweep, blue along its upper surface with an underside of cloud-white broken by streaks of darkness.

Rinian's green eyes go wide as the most beautiful dragon in the entire world nudges her. She looks into his eyes and..that's it. Her words are almost a whisper, and really just for him. "Kayinth…yes. I do know you. Thank you for finding me."

Nessalyn didn't feed anyone any wholesome thoughts, but she's not taking the blame for any of this. "Don't even," she growls in a low voice to Sylvarin, because no. She doesn't want to think about it. Instead, she turns her attention to Rhodelia, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Greens aren't so bad. I like greens. Browns, too. Nothing wrong with an all-male clutch."

Ajral, still unimpressed, though the new little blue gets another half smile from her. "Bronze that looks like he is going to eat someone, and blue that — those paws." He's cute enough that she can handle the fact they're all boys, even if it is weird. On the other hand: Leirith, so they are expecting weird, yeah?

Cielo winces as the skeletal bronze goes down onto the sands. His eyes go to the parents, the healers—goodness knows they'd have a better judge of all this. But he's been searching for answers in faces for so long, it feels, and finding silence. With Meion gone, he feels the urge to drift to other, familiar company but it fades just as fast when he hears another egg crack. Wide eyes turn and at attention once more. The faintest shiver? No, just finally catching up to the heat of the sands…

Sylvarin can't help but smile when Rinian finds her match. In fact, the smile is practically a broad grin. Of course that doesn't last very long because there's yet /another/ dragon and his attention switches, "All male, hm? That'd be interesting honestly…" He's casually letting the topic of the bronze's potential life mate slide. Oh so casual!

Carry Me Above the Clouds Blue Hatchling seems disoriented, wings drooping after his grand entrance, head lowered towards the ground, tail hanging useless behind him. There's a shift of one of his wings, a tilt of his head to look as that joint works just enough to move, but remains otherwise useless. He does the same with his other wing, testing it, and then takes that first step forward. No such luck; he stumbles going down with his little face planting in the sand. There he remains, shifting to sit, wings splayed to either side, as that head lifts to watch the hatching proceedings.

Meion sits quietly, handing little cut pieces of meat to Euclath off to the side of the sands. With that hunger subsiding in her mind, curiosity rises again, in time for her to notice the other blue hatching. She grins to him, eyes bright, watching to see where he goes with interest, inspecting the clutch's movements on behalf of their firstborn sibling, who has very important meal-related work to do right now, and requires his assistant to watch things for him.

Mathis steps aside as Rinian finds her lifemate, in absolute awe and yet tears gather in his eyes and they spill forth in happiness for his dear friend. "Oh Rin, I'm…" Speechless. "Congratulations…" Lips are pressed together, chin wibbling, and clasps his hands together before his face.

Too Late for Goodbyes Egg rolls and wobbles before wallowing deeper into its sandy nest, clearly quite content to stay exactly where it is, regardless of the inevitable pressures from inside.

Rhodelia tilts her head and cranes up onto her tippy-toes to get a better look at the kersplatted bronze. "Nah, I think he's just a baby. Sometimes they all look like that." She just waves a hand. What she means to say is sometimes baby anythings are a mess. "And maybe they decided there were enough greens. Or just luck or whatever? Ohhh, Riri!" There's a bit of a clap as another Impression happens.

The Other Side of the Mirror Egg comes to live with a burst of energy, one tiny snout bursting free of egg, pushing and clawing and fighting for freedom until where there was once vibrant egg, there now stands a living creature, covered in egg goo and perhaps to bits of egg that stick to newly-hatched wet.

Ajral can't help but laugh a little at that assertion, because it does seem like if any dragons were going to do that, these would be the ones! "So that's, what, two now, six shouldn't be so hard to keep track of but with so much going on," Ajral cannot keep pace. And feels dumb about it. "But yes. Maybe the Weyr just has enough greens and there'll be a few clutches without and then one will be all greens."

Sylvarin quirks an eyebrow, head tilting to the side. "Really? Human babies aren't exactly nice looking when they're born, those other dragons look ok though…maybe it is more human-ish." Despite his words there's definitely doubt in Sylvarin's words.

True Love Burns Bright Gold Hatchling
A creature of living flame, this queen's burnt orange hide is a dazzling thing to behold, marked for brilliance from the tip of her nose to the ends of her tail. Candlelight flickers along her sides, shimmering aureolin twining with roguish rouge in an incandescent dance down her neck and sides. Harvest-gold traces her from head to tail, a soft-edged streak that fades through bright gamboge, stunning ochre, to subtle sinopic depths against the chest where beat her hearts of flame. A wide muzzle is balanced by equally large eyes, the marigold dapple down along her nose just a touch lighter than her cheeks. Her brow-ridge is a brighter hue, a sunglow gold that pales further along her ovoid knobs into soft champagne. Daylight dreams and springtime flowers gild the strong lines of her back, sweeping down ridge by tumbled ridge along her neck to tuck between her wings. They're massive spans, those wings, the tawny spars whose sails swirl fulvous hues with marigold, yellow and orange in tangled mixture along wings large enough to shelter the world - or drag upon it. The golden streak along her back continues past those spans, arching along her hips before it sweeps the length over-long and rather-dextrous tail, the hue undaunted, narrowing until the forked tip is formed entirely from rays of purest light.

Rinian doesn't even realise she's crying, just like Mathis, if for different reasons. She stands there for the longest moment, her hands carassing either side of his perfect head, staring into his perfect eyes. Only when an assistant weyrlingmaster comes to take them away does she look away. "Oh..yes..thank you…hungry." She carefully helps her perfect friend deal with those adorably short legs and big wings to the side where she can get him fed.

Kaellian releases the fist he'd made so-slowly that there's no more ripples, no more waves in that too-white robe. So terribly not his style, but he was pretty certain they would find a way to chase him off if he showed up here in his normal dashing style. Anyway, that is most definitely not where his thoughts are- for those are still on the sands. His risen hand is returned to his side, while he watches the brown claim another of their line. There's no control to be had here, and the man shifts his weight slightly, a twist of unease claiming its stake on his stoic posture. "Aye.. that there is.." Comes low, slow, drawled. Almost a murmur, really, curled by the huff of a breath of amusement as the bronze on the sands fumbles into a heap, and a gold shatters shell.

Nessalyn seems to realize after a moment that Rinian actually did manage to impress. She glances over in the girl's direction, brows furrowed in a faint frown that ends in a shrug. "I guess that's it for her." It's probably meant to be congratulatory, but it comes out a bit flat. "Two more, right? We can do two more. No big deal." Aaaaand then a gold spills out onto the sands, and something in Nessalyn's expression twitches. "Where's that weaver?"

Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling will make sure that you do, in fact, die if you ever speak of his failure. As it stands, that not-quite-right bronze is getting to his feet and flicking a wing out with agitation to rid himself of egg goop (sorry random candidate #234; it was nothing personal) and one fantastically stubborn piece of shell. SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE. SHIMMY. SHIVER. … Down he goes again, right into the sand, going for a little roll this time that was obviously planned even if your FEEBLE HUMAN MINDS DO NOT SEE IT. See, back on his feet already. TREMBLE BEFORE HIS GREATNESS. Or… yeah, okay. That sneeze of sand was pretty cute. You're not scaring anybody here anymore, Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling. We're all onto you now. Try again.

Ajral isn't even proven wrong, because while a gold is a girl, she is not green! "Yes, it's just greens we're not having here today, but gold is fine." And DEFINITELY not for her, ohFaranthpleasedonotpickher, Ajral wants nothing more than to not end up on a gold, no matter how pretty she is.

Sylvarin's eyes go wide, eyebrows unknitting to raise high on his forehead as the newest hatchling appears. "Well, there goes the all male theory…" His words are merely a whisper, though he's glancing down at Nessalyn, "I'm not sure if even a dozen meat shields could save anyone from /her/."

Kera makes her way back to the other riders to see more hatchling wandering, and stumbling around the sands and a young queenling crack her shell.

True Love Burns Bright Gold Hatchling IS FREE! There's a squeak of sound that she emits, a shiver of that body as if to dislodge wet and bits of shell as she — wait a second. She hesitates, rears back as if suddenly unsure of whether or not she trusts the heated sands waiting for that first step. She places one paw down hesitantly, attention focused on the action before she tilts her head towards the other paw and repeats. Talons flex, those shoulders shift and — yes! Tappatappatappatappa. She lifts her paws and sets them down over and over in rapid succession, in the same spot. This is AMAZING! You can see the shiver of excitement in her as she takes one, two, three unsteady steps forward and then goes down, rolling in the sands with a chirrup of sound, coming down on her back and looking towards the candidates upside down with paws up in the air. It's just like she dreamed it'd be.

Rhodelia scrunches her nose up at the thought of human babies. "Sometimes they get those weird pointy heads because something or other… I don't know. Babies are weird." LIFE IS WEIRD. And there's the gold squeaking out and Rhody elbows Ajral. "Well, you were wondering where all the girls where…"

Mathis, now relatively alone in his patch of sand with Rinian off being awesome new weyrling, he tears his eyes off the newly impressed pair and returns to watching the remaining eggs and hatchlings. Two friends down, and more to go if these little ones had anything to say about it. Wiping at his face quickly he swallows and exhales a rough breath, trying to sooth himself. It wasn't a loss, it was more friends! Yes, that's what he was going to believe. The appearance of a gold hatchling to add to the color of the remaining mix is a good enough distraction, eyes wide as he beholds her. So pretty! Then that bronze sneezes and rips away his attention. Okay, yeah, that was kinda cute. He'll give him that.

Too Late for Goodbyes Egg pops and stretches as the hatchling within grows more restless in its confines, the dull grey-blue shell bowing beneath the pressure. Cracks begin to zag across the surface, marring the curve of the shell and distorting it further.

Meion grins quietly to Rinian as the woodcrafter approaches with her brown. She'd offer congratulations, but the look on her face of you feel it too says more than she could put to words anyway.

Cielo thought he might have lost that jolt of amazement and glee after the first. And the only thing that can pry his attention away from ONE lovely hatchling is another bursting into being. Little whispers for both impressed, waiting, and D'AWW. … Well he might be across the room but he does pry his eyes to Mathis for just long enough to acknowledge, offer a come-what-may-smile, and witness still.

Carry Me Above the Clouds Blue Hatchling slowly regains his footing, unsteady as his attention turns towards those white-robed hopefuls with sharpened focus. Slowly he takes another step forward, stumbling as legs disagree on instruction and direction, managing to stop just shy of face-planting once more. There's another long pause, and then a determination about this blue as he starts forward again.

Sylvarin can't help but let a touch of a smile appear on his features at the gold's antics, "She seems rather sweet." In fact there's a chuckle escaping his lips as well, though it's hard to tell whether his amusement is for the gold, the bronze, or both! It could very well be both.

Too Late for Goodbyes Egg gives up the ghost, shattering apart as the hatchling within gives one final, titanic heave, forcing the shell to split asunder. Squalling up a storm, an egg-goo coated hatchling tumbles onto the Sands, sprawled amidst the destruction it has wrought.

A Bad Ass Bronze Hatchling
Brilliant sunlight glides over rugged leather, evoking bronzen highlights from deep within the rich chestnut hide. It skims along hard, lean lines, sparking gold from thick eyeridges and long muzzle before dipping down along the curve of his jawline to be swallowed up in the five-o'clock shadow that rests heavy upon his broad chin and high-boned cheeks. Gilding continues, splashing down a sinuous neck, glinting across brass-button hued neckridges and stitching golden lines in looping patterns across a curious swatch of ruddy overtones that drapes asymmetrically across broad shoulders and down one muscled bicep. Scarlet shading swirls into the broad sweep of wings that flow outward from his shoulders, translucent coppery sails transfixed between spars formed of Rukbat's fiery heart. Dark bronze armor, awash with sun-patterned patina, molds itself to hardened muscles from mid-chest to the tip of his long, sturdy tail, joints picked out with the hard steel-grey of gunmetal where hide flexes and creases at each twist and turn. A thick band of roughened ochre, weathered and beaten by time and elements, encircles his waist, spilling down along his haunches, emphasizing the awkward jut of stifles bowed just enough to give an ungainly hitch to his natural waddle, a singular defect amidst the sculpted splendour overwashed with the rich golden light of high noon.

Nessalyn eyes that last remaining egg, because, "There could still be a green. Or another brown." Look, she's not picky. She'll even take not impressing. A sidelong glance goes toward that freshly-hatched gold, just to keep an eye on her whereabouts, and, "… what is she doing?" It's cute. And even Nessalyn can recognize that it's cute, which only furthers her frustration with the whole affair. And then a bronze hatches. "Oh, come on."

True Love Burns Bright Gold Hatchling rolls back to stand, shaking sand loose as the candidates draw her attention towards them and she ambles forward, getting caught up in the length of her wings, whipping that too-long-tail with more correction than is necessary but enough to send her tripping, stumbling, tipping over sideways and right back into the sand. But her head perks right back up, that obvious thrill of excitement almost infectious as she turns her head up into an imaginary breeze, scenting those candidates who gather in wait and those crowds who amass to see what she will do. And then she's back on her feet again, determined, and starting forward.

<Galleries> "Yes," Xh'vyr reactively says aloud, though his murmur is for his lifemate alone, "He does look like you, just a little." A bow-legged centurion against Aeldhiyth's argent-washed warrior, but all the same, cut from the same rugged lines. His lips curve and he watches the last bronze with especially fond attention.

Rhodelia may have dropped a little bit of her guard because that little gold rolling in the sand is just so cute. Plus, they've made it this long with no accidents, so things look good. "She looks like she's having fun. And getting on with it eventually." There's a glance as yet another bronze appears. "Was that.. the last egg?" Yes, she might be trying to count them on her fingers. It's been chaotic.

Sylvarin chuckles again, gaze breaking away the sands so that he can briefly nudge Nessalyn. "Wrong again, the dragons are throwing you for a loop on purpose I think." But even as he speaks, blue-green's eyes are resting on the new hatchling, "He's /very/ different from that other bronze though." He's still kind of warily eyeing that one.

Ajral will happily take not Impressing, both because she can go back to work and because she can go back to sleep. The fatigue is starting to settle in, no matter how attractively odd the dragons are. "It was," she confirms for Rhodelia. "So there aren't any greens, how about that, you were right!" Despite herself, she yawns. Sorry.

A Bad Ass Bronze Hatchling climbs slowly to his feet, his hind-legs scrabbling against the sand as he struggles to get them under him. As he finally plants all four feet as firmly as he can, he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a puff of dust. A'ight now. Steady as she goes. One step. Two step… As he strides out of the shattered remains of his egg, his hips swing wide, that long, thick tail stirring up a dust devil as it lashes across the sand, pulling him off balance. He stumbles forward, craning his long neck to peer at his hind legs as they swing wide, upsetting his equilibrium. Huffing loudly, he stubbornly waddles forward, leaving a cloud of sand and dust in his wobbling wake.

Mathis didn't know when the nervousness had melted away, replaced with excitement as there were suddenly more hatchlings than eggs remaining. With the appearance of yet another bronze, the teen boggles, scanning the sands and spots Cielo. The smile is returned, albeit faintly, with an inclination of his head. Yes. Hello. I see you. Then he's back to watching eggs and hatchlings.

Cielo looks at the Blue again and touches his arm, at habit once again. From the egg that he struggled to even look at, there's a certain amount of wonder as to what it's become. What he's become. What else can he do but smile, too? A sip of Klah is not enough to make him vibrate, but there he is. Sandal-toe sweeping a slight rhythm into the sand.

Kaellian lets his thumb trace over the back of his fingers where rings should be. It's a tick, like his others. Slow, just as thoughtful. Considering the bronze hatchling out on the sands that trips and falls a second time. If the amusement on his expression is a touch cruel, well, it's just his face, okay. His seablue eyes narrow a little at the sneeze, leaving him for a moment to look over the gold once more. To get out of her way if she were to come this direction. Oh there's many things the man would stand sword to…. whatever with. Dragons are not one of them. Not small, not large. Certainly not rampaging youths. Nonchalance amusement touches next as he adds towards the others, "What do you think, Sylvarin? Fancy being weyrwoman someday?"

Carry Me Above the Clouds Blue Hatchling manages by clumsy manuevering to make his way to one pocket of candidates, his attention sweeping back and forth among those curious persons as he stumbles forward another couple of feet. THUNK. He stumbles right into one of those male candidates, his nose pressed tight to body and momentarily relaxing in that sprawl. He just needs to rest — just for a moment. One moment of stillness.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Carry Me Above The Clouds Blue Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Sylvarin can't help it, when he watches that bronze stumble there's a quiet /laugh/ escaping his lips. How utterly rude. Only he can't himself because then it's not just falling it's /waddling/. Give him a second, he's composing himself as he takes in a deep breathe….really! Kaellian's words seem to help somewhat and a smirk finally replaces the amusement on his features, "I'm told I look nice in a dress, though…I'm not sure I could hold a candle to you."

Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling SEES YOU, VILLAINS. HE SEES YOU ALL AND YOUR VILLAIN MOUSTACHES. That sneeze was his allergy to you and you, and ESPECIALLY YOU MATHIS, ya dang landlubber. He is not cute. Watch him muster up all of the dignity that he has with another rattling grit of sound that escapes his throat as a low, continuous growl, one that makes it seem as if his fall-to-the-candidates will turn into some macabre display of hatchling blood frenzy. But no. Not today. Not yet. Destiny is at work here, and there's just no time to indulge in one's darker desires. One, two, three steps forward carry him to the darkest candidate on the sands, those hollow eyes meeting (from all the way down here awwwwwwwweee) in a challenge — one he expects to be met. Cease your ill-made jokes and pay attention. There is no tolerance for failure nor mutiny here.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Never Shall We Die Bronze Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Nessalyn shoots Rhodelia a look, because that is a dangerous creature capable of ruining lives and definitely not something to find cute. "Yeah, it's all fun and games now, until someone impresses a gold. And the next thing you know, Xanadu has been reduced to rubble." But as a reminder, that excessively dramatic answer isn't because she's terrified. JUST DON'T FORGET THAT. She nudges Sylvarin back, perhaps a bit harder than he nudged her. "So you can have that one, then. I doubt he'd get you killed." She even makes an attempt to shove Sylvarin a bit closer, because REVENGE.

True Love Burns Bright Gold Hatchling can't be stopped! She goes running, and racing, and dancing, and chasing, and leaping, and bounding! Wings FLYING, hearts POUNDING! There's so much for her to do, so much for her to see. Those candidates are so close, close enough that bumbling feet and too-big wings aren't enough to deter her because for the first time ever, she's completely free!. So she keeps coming, digging in clumsy paws at the last possible second but not soon enough to prevent a collision. THUNK! …Right into the brown haired, blue-eyed journeyman that will be where her new life begins.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the True Love Burns Bright Gold Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

A Bad Ass Bronze Hatchling is slowly getting the hang of this walking thing. He ain't quite got it mastered, and as he carefully inspects one row of Candidates, his flailing tail catches one across the chest, sending the boy sprawling to the ground. He pauses to whuffle thoughtfully at his tail's victim, before snorting wetly in his face and moving on. He pauses in the next group, eyeing another young man consideringly before rumbling deep in his chest, a muted basso growl that stops just short of his sharp, sharp teeth. Dissatisfied with his search thus far, he awkwardly swings his hips around and moves on, sauntering through the hot, dusty Sands.

Ajral will just stand behind Kaellian if the gold comes that close to her, because she is still Very No in that regard. But oh, that's not a bad idea! "Yes, Sylvarin would be perfect for it," she says with a tiny little smile. "Though I think that perhaps Mathis — " Hang on a sec now the first bronze is right here, and it is not her that he wants. At least it is not her the gold wants either, and — can she go back to bed now? Or get drunk and then go back to bed?

Sylvarin stumbles slightly at Nessalyn's nudge, but he doesn't quite fall to the sands. /Thankfully/. His robe might have a little stain but imagine the discomfort of having sand caught in it as well! He's about to retort but instead he pauses, as not one but /two/ more impressions are made. And then one of the candidate boy's is hit and now the baker is being /extra/ wary.

Cielo would be taken off guard were it not for the magnetic pull that seems to yank at his heart as the blue comes near, eyes widen and wettened and he whispers out a soft apology. For the nightmares, for the worries, for daring to believe that this one would be ANYTHING but—but you. The young dragonhealer leans down and touches the blue as his eyes almost shut. "Oh, you will. We will. If you…" He swallows and laughs out a soft cry. "Without question."

Rhodelia takes a step back and then another as there are suddenly dragons everywhere. "I think… I think I should be home." Although where home might be right now, she's not exactly sure. Wherever there might be booze is probably close enough for the night, although she'll drift over towards Ajral until they're given an all clear or… whatever.

Mathis blows off a puff of air as it comes down to the wire, hatchlings all on the sands but no longer any eggs. Somehow he hears his name in all the chaos and looks up, searching. Who'd said that? Then there's Cielo all impressing and stuff, and so he calls out his congratulations instead of looking further.

A Bad Ass Bronze Hatchling stops abruptly in his tracks, his hind-legs slipping in the sand and nearly sprawling beneath him before he manages to find his balance again. Those whirling orange-red eyes - so hungry, for food, for something more than food - light like the sun at noon, nearly blinding in their intensity. Nostrils flaring, he slews around, sending up a gout of sand as he goes from zero to sixty in point five seconds, racing across the Sands in the direction of a dark-haired young man. The hatchling skids to a sudden halt, spraying his target - and his target's companions - with a tacky coating of grit and dust. Orange-red eyes fade to match the green-blue of his chosen partner, and he spreads scarlet wings as he gives voice to a cry of exultation. Yee-haw!

With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Bad Ass Bronze Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

<Galleries> "So beautiful," Merek says, as he watches the dragons meet the riders.

Meion looks out across the sands, as dragons make their way to find their lifemates, and she's overwhelmed with wonder - who will they choose? What will happen next? It's almost unbearably strong, her natural sense of wanting-to-know amplified by the fresh-hatched dragon roaming and exploring in her mind. She sees the other blue find his mate and starts to smile until she's crying, grinning with stupid tears running down her cheeks, and a voice in her head asking her what they are, and what they mean. Everything is going to be so interesting. Everything already is.

Rinian is not doing well at observing the hatching at all, not after her Kayinth fond her. She's so completely wrapped up in this new..two-in-oneness..and of course feeding him. So very very hungry!

Nessalyn considers herself to be fairly quick, but she's not quick enough to escape the bouncing, bounding, ALL TOO ADORABLE gold who comes crashing directly into her. There's an angry shout of a word which shouldn't be repeated in polite company before blue eyes meet whirling ones and oh. The techcrafter's expression goes slack, somewhere between wonder and absolute terror. "Wha-" That's her first attempt at some sort of vocalization, but it doesn't get far before her voice cracks with something that's suspiciously like emotion and she falls silent again. For a moment she simply lays there, oblivious to the burning heat of the sands, oblivious to everything that isn't this unexpected creature before her. Finally, "Tineangranth." It's more than just a word; it is suddenly the single most important thing in the entirety of her existence, and there's nothing more she can think to say. The shimmer of Tineangrath's hide will no doubt strike her later, but for now it is only dragon and newly-minted rider, and the sudden wonder of never being alone again.

Kaellian takes a step back as a bronze hatchling comes closer. Closer. Too close. He will get out of the way. He- won't? That step back makes it only about a half-step. That half-step is frozen in time, frozen as the rest of him, as that intensity of his gaze leaves this place for somewhere else. He doesn't hear Ajral, can't even have the time to reply to Sylvarin's spectacular comeback. No, the man of the sea is abruptly at sea again, or so it must be, because his balance is off as if he can't get is landlegs back- and maybe nevermore. The look beyond the sands turns down to find those hollow faceted eyes. His brow furrows as his mind catches up to what he's seeing-not-seeing. The faintest of movements may be a flinch, a certain.. reaction that appears too visceral for not being touched, for that dragonet there to have not yet made contact. Through his shoulders filters tension, reflexive- a readiness that abruptly… melts. "Aye." Confusion, too, melts away, and a grin that re-opens that small split on his lip stretches into the makings of a sly, eerie smirk that befits them both. It's the only thing about him that moves. Probably the only thing that can, aside from the hand that reaches out- that completes a connection already made as skin touches egg-and-sand-tainted hide a'top the bronze beast's head. "Aye. Forever, Zyddagath."

Sylvarin instinctively throws up a hand as the dust of sand and grit wash over him, but moments later that hand is dropped to his side. Whereas a look of disgust would /normally/ cross his features at what just happened, instead there is…/respect/ and pure unfiltered adoration for the bronze hatchling in front of him. "Varequoth, ey?" An easy grin spreads on his features and for /whatever/ reason he's tipping an invisible hat in the hatchlings direction. Despite these movements there's utter relaxation in his shoulders, none of that tension and nerves that reigned over his actions earlier. "V'ayn it is…and as for justice? Well, I think that can be arranged." And then a pause. "Food as well." And moments later he's kneeling in front of the small bronze, hands reaching out to runs across those scarlet wings, as if V'ayn were still in disbelief.

Cielo keeps still for a while longer, until he is not. Just as the quiet took him then a restlesslness does, and he guides the Blue back up, or the hatchling guides him, and together they go with purpose towards the feeding area. To where the other impressed go. "Ceruadharth." Yes. Let him be the first to say it out loud, out from thoughts and for the world to know. "Yes. There was never any question. Yes, now and always." Slow, steady, they make it to where the others are feeding. They look as one at Meion, asking such similar questions. Why is she crying? What is that, and what is HE feeling now? There will be time. First there is 'us,' and then a hunger sated.

Nessalyn does manage to get up at some point, although moving and directions will likely be largely left up to Tineangrath, because she wants food, while Ness just wants to live in this wonder of this moment for a little longer without confronting reality.

Mathis calls out his congadulations to those impressing, thrilled for them says that expression on his face, and really all he wanted to do was hug them all in turn. That can't happen of course, new lifemates and all and so he stands there among the shards of shell and sands and smiles like an idiot. What an experience. What a night. Storm or no storm.

<Galleries> Tanit sneaks off to drink all the weyrwoman's booze.

The last dragon has tumbled from its shell, the last hopeful has found its match on these sands, in this time, and Risali's joy dims, quiets to something not quite sympathetic, but certainly empathetic as grey eyes take in each person remaining in white. She opens her mouth to speak, but it's Leirith who interjects with, « DO NOT BE DISAPPOINTED, MINIONS! » That maw gapes, that massive head tilts, and she comes forward to place herself within reach of hands, lowering her head to the ground once more. « TODAY WAS FOR OTHERS, BUT THERE WILL BE A TOMORROW, AND ONE OF THOSE TOMORROWS MIGHT EVEN BE FOR YOU. » It's unerringly gentle, carried on the whispered hints of spun sugar and funnelcake - perhaps distorted for the sheer fact that this queen's mind belongs to another. And Risali's stepping forward from behind her, running fingers along headknobs and eye ridges as another smile comes void of humor, full of something else that remains in her eyes even as the attempt at reassurance in facial expression dissipates. "Xanadu Weyr thanks you - for everything. For your time, for your courage, for you. We've enjoyed watching you all grow, and we know that you all have lives to get back to, but we hope that you will stay for the feast -" And here Risali pauses - maybe because she just remembered, maybe because D'lei nudged her. WHAT. SHE'S SLEEPY. "It, uh. May take a while." Closed kitchens make the cooks sad! Along with some missing shipments that will surely have them scrambling all the more. Besides, do you really want to be around all these unwashed Xanadu people? "We also understand if you need some time. For yourselves." And then, in tandem, queen and her rider both dip into bows - a return of all that respect that was shown them over the duration of this candidacy. They hold it for one, two, three moments, and finally Risali rises from the bow with an upturn of her face first. "It's been an honor. We can leave this way." And there she goes, apparently of a mind to escort people in one last show of camaraderie to the exit of the arena, out into the snow. Well. She'll let them linger in the warmth of the barracks for the rest of the night, at least…

Ajral will catch up with everyone she liked who Impressed later, surely, but there is sleep in her future, so — can they go now? She's hovering by Rhodelia, one hand floating in the air as if to gesture but she's not sure what gesture to make. "Feast after a nap," she proclaims, because that sounds just about right. Thank you Risali.

Meion reaches out with the hand that isn't carrying food to Euclath, and she lightly brushes Cielo's shoulder. Enough to tell him she's happy, certainly, with no dragon required to convey those congratulations. Everything has changed, now. But everything is - and will be - fine.

Rinian is brought out of that connection with her lifemate with the sound of Leirith's 'voice'. Its then that she looks around to take note of all that happened after she got delightfully lost in her connection with Kayinth. Her gaze finds Mathis and she can't help but look sad, waving to him.

Mathis can see that it's over and there are so many new friends paired off with his barracks buddies! As the call goes out, he grins huge and waves to Leirith, sending her thoughts of congratulations as well on a nicely made clutch and all those perfect babies before he heads out with the others so catch some much deserved rest. Sleep was good! Mathis also waves back to Rinian, big and huge and lots of arm waggling.

Rhodelia will certainly be feasting at some point. Whether that feast is any actual solid food or all alcohol is another matter entirely. But she clings to the healer's shoulder as she makes her way off the sands and to… other things.

Somehow, at some point, movement does happen. The tides move. The dead-wind becomes alive again and teases the sails of Kaellian and the bronze at his side, as they join the other new-weyrlings and their newest partners.

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