Xanadu Weyr - Candidate Barracks
A long, low ceiling room opens off the entrance hall to the arena, one wall slightly curved as it is set against the outer wall of the arena itself. Cots are set evenly the length of the room, in two rows, each with its own small press at the foot, for personal belongings. Wide windows are spaced along the outside wall, letting sunlight in, while other lights are available for the night time hours.
Kirilla throws open the doors and enters with a harried expression. "Candidates!" the weyrlingmaster barks. "Robes! Pronto! Can't you hear the dragons or are you daft?" She stalks through the barracks, kicking a leg here or there to wake up lazy candidates.
Merola enters the Barracks, her dress soaked completely. Her gaze sweeps to her cot as she grabs her robe and swaps the dry fabric for her wet dress without bothering to look for cover. A Wherbrat through and through.
Bryndarelle quickly pulls shut the curtains around her cot and changes into her robe. She comes out clad in white with her curly hair pulled back in a tail. Obviously homemade sandels adorn her feet.
Aryann is sitting on her cot, dragging a comb through her curls - painfully. The fluffy mass is slightly damp and obviously knotty and Aryann is muttering to herself in terms that young ladies should not use. She, at least, is already in her robe. Just with hopelessly messy hair.
Messev had hidden the evidence just in time, for here comes Kirilla. As she starts kicking people randomly, he squeaks a bit. "Now?" Ooh, he got the eggs just in time it seems. Ahem. Grab at big….white…thing. Pull it over his head, jam shoes on his feet. Hair all messed up, he gets to his feet, watching Kirilla with wide eyes. "Are they really?"
Kirilla continues on her impromptu inspection and waking spree, going from cot to cot to check on things. Sour expressions cross and uncross her face - she's searching for soemthing inparticular, and then she notices Messev. "Yes boy, they're hummi-" eyes narrow, catching something on the floor by his bed. She flips over the cover, and stares at the sheets, not saying anything for the moment - but her eyes are unfocused: she's talking to Pheriannath.
Bryndarelle figits with a fold of her robe as she awaits inspection.
Rhesoe suddenly jumps under his bed, looking for his robes. "The red haired little man took them I know it!" he says, and he stands up, throwing stuff out from out of his bed…ball of yarn. Peice of chalk. Yesh. "Too much stuff…".
Merola slips her sandels on before joining Jaamor beside the exit which will bring them to the sands.
Messev nervously watches Kirilla as she seems to head over and examine his cot. He shifts in place, glancing at the others standing near the entrance and heads over there. Blend in with the crowd?
Aryann mutters some more then gives up, drops her comb and moves to assist Rhesoe by grabbing a stray glow and peering under the cot with it. "Isn't that something white there?" she asks, pointing at something pale coloured.
Kirilla frowns, and whips around - but too late, she hears an order from her dragon from the sands, and her scowl deepens. "Into line, candidates! Alphabetical." She hurries to the tunnel's entrance, glare settling on Messev for a moment as she passes.
Bryndarelle quickly moves to stand near the door just behind Aryann. She brushes a small bit of brown lint off her robe as she does so.
Rhesoe looks at Messev's sheets for a moment. "Oh, the red haired man struck again…" he says with a soft coo, and then gets in line. Rs are near the end, of course. "Ohohohohohoh! I'm so nervous!"
Aryann squeaks then, drops the stray glow and breathlessly scampers into her spot. Lucky lucky her. She gets to be first in line.
Messev shrugs, heading over to Merola, getting into line behind her quietly. Kirilla's glare gets noticed, and he hunches his shoulders slightly.
Merola gives Jaamor's hand a quick press before she moves to stand in the proper place in line. Her two ladies chitter toward her before they leap from her cot to go *between*. She smiles. "Gone to see the show." Jaamor laughs as his bronze settles upon his head, still as a statue. "No, Amigo. Go see the ladies and watch with them. You can't go with me this time."
Kirilla eyes the candidates again. "Go! Out, pay your respects, and we'll deal with the /prankster/ later." Pointed look is sent in the suspect's direction, but there isn't time.
Immensity yawns in this cavern, the space vast in every dimension. Rough walls of natural basalt with the odd intrusion of harsh granite rise up from a carefully leveled floor, arching up into immeasurable darkness that can never be fully banished. Yet, the attempt is sometimes made, with firelizards and the smallest of the green dragons depositing glows on a thousand little ledges until the effect resembles a starlit sky. At ground level, big permanent torches have been built, designed by clever smiths to burn for hours if enough fuel is provided. On those occasions when there is something happening in here, those torches are lit and their bright illumination can be almost as powerful as daylight. Sand covers the floor of the cavern, a wide sweep of sand that is deep enough to bury the largest dragon egg twice over. That sand, however, is unique: a mixture of red and white grains that combine to form a distinctive shade of pink.
There are two obvious exits. The first is the dragon sized tunnel that leads due north, long and gently curved so that the outside is not visible from within. That tunnel is large enough for dragons to fly through, although none but greens could do it abreast. The other exit is the steps that have been built against the wall, leading up to the galleries and ledges where spectators can watch.
People: Bryndarelle Niva Aryann Elia
Dragons: Ezventh Zoith Branwynth
Eggs: Tangled Dance Explosion Egg Strong Young Warrior Egg Lonely Mother Bear Egg Ancient Guardian Egg Hiding Double Fish Egg Unfaithful Prophecies Egg Infinite Proliferation Egg Misty Figurine Egg Winged Runner Egg Four Hooved Hunter Egg Celestial Throne Egg Feathered Messenger Egg Guardian of the Golden Apples Egg Weights in Balance Egg
Objects: Hatching Controller
Tori shuffles out onto the hot sands, nervously smoothing her robe down over and over. A bow is given to the dam and sire as she moves into place around the eggs, watching them curiously as they twitch. Whoo boy. Now the fun starts.
Weights in Balance Egg shifts here and there in its sandy wallow, stilling almost as quickly as it started to move.
Merola steps onto the Sands and gives a low curtsey to both Sire and Dam along with their Riders and any WeyrlingMaster Staff who are in sight. That done, she moves to stand near the center of the Clutch, a few places away from Jaamor, her eyes upon the Eggs, watching the moment with great excitement and interest.
Messev heads out onto the sands, his gaze catching on his..ah…handiwork. Smile. Then a blink, and his gaze darts over to the dam and sire, bowing hastily to them. He glances about to see where Rhesoe went.
Rhesoe bows to the dragons on the sands, then squeaks. People! People everywhere! A nervous squeak, a sort of shivering stance, and he takes a step back. Mwa! Stage fright! And his parents are there too, looking all proud and confident in him. He gives a frightened squeak, and hides behind the boy in front of him.
Aryann patters out, nervously trying to finger comb out a few more knots from her hair. Taking her place in the slowly forming semi-circle, she bows politely to the dragons and turns her attention onto the reason for being here. Those eggs.
Bryndarelle moves out onto the sands. She lifts her feet quickly as the heat begins to soak through her thin soles. She gives a deep bow to the gold and brown hovering over the eggs and joins the other candidates near the eggs. She gasps as the first egg begins to move.
Branwynth eyes the candidates as they walk out, hissing softly at a few of them. Nasty things, drawing all over her lovely eggs. How dare they try to Impress them after that. She stays well away fom them, but you can be sure she's watching them closely.
Guardian of the Golden Apples Egg twitches ever so slightly, then stills. Nope, not it's turn yet.
Ancient Guardian Egg shudders gently in its sandy spot, the shell flaking and peeling away as the yellowed paper finally gives up its long life, revealing a skinny little runt of a blue, covered in egg goo with a fine crust of shell. However skinny he may be, he's lightning fast for one so young, and he knows exactly who he wants: Daermon, a willowy lad from Fort with a shock of blond hair. As the two collide, he cries out, "Pantalaimoth! Yes, yes, you're my perfect other half. And I'm your D'eon." The stand together, one now forever, and head for the exit and food.
Kirilla follows the candidates out, shooing a late boy in front of her before hurrying to the side to join Pheriannath and show the new Impressee what to do.
Bryndarelle cringes away from the queen slightly as she hisses, but the rocking of the next egg snaps her attention back. Her head turns back and forth watching both eggs and eyeing D'eon enviously.
Messev jumps a little as the first egg hatches. "Wow. It's….really happening!" he says, eyes wide. Pantalaimoth and D'eon get eyed as they get partnered up. "Wow! Congrats!" Blink. Eye the other eggs, with a nervous glance at the hissing gold.
Infinite Proliferation Egg hadn't really moved much, but now it certainly is, shifting the sand away from around it.
Infinite Proliferation Egg gives a final shake, one fit to destroy the mightiest opponent or to knock the stars out from the sky, the shell first cracking once, each crack then propogating itself hurriedly until a dragonet is left amidst the infinite specks of shell, the final creation of the egg's life.
|Brilliant Phoenix Green Hatchling|
|Slender and trim, but not too thin, this robust dragonet is far from a attention-grabbing medley of greens, the hues merely range from a near medium shade over most of her body which fades to a warm yellow-green along her wing sails. Generally well proportioned, her coloration varies only minutely over the muscled back, whether it is where the serpentine neck smoothly melts onto her torso, or at the tip of her long, elegant tail. Wings are jointed seamlessly in coloration, spars appearing slightly too-large while they are held to her back, though while they are extended they appear a perfect fit, lighter, yellow-tinted wing sails stretched tautly. Limber limbs extend from a slightly paler-patterned underside, hide appearing as if it has been painstakingly highlighted to draw attention to the muscular appendages, and the dark ebony talons on each. Her muzzles extends, dainty in form, nostrils, faceted eyes, and head knobs balanced perfectly, unmarred by a splotch. Her darkest hues reside in her ridges, as they run down her back, starting on the top of her head, spaced and orientated just-so all the way to the very tip of her tail.|
Aryann squeaks as the first dragonet appears and stares at the newly impressed pair with obvious fascination. But a moveing egg snatches her attention back and one hand creeps up to her mouth as she falls back into nibbling on nails. Bad habits.
Merola's eyes flash to Branwynth and she offers another, deeper curtsey to the Gold. An appology of sorts for what her classmate dared to do. Jaamor moves closer to her as the boy beside him Impresses. "Congratulations, D'eon!" He cries happily before he spots the Green and turns his attention to her.
Rhesoe squeaks at the hatching and impressing of an egg, then the hatching of the next egg, and looks befuddled, confused, and downright lost. What does he do? He stands there, figiting, shivering from head to toe, and watching with a sort of frantic gaze. Eggs are easy…dragonets…a bit hard.
A green hatches, and she makes no obvious movements to pick right away. Messev looks about, sees Rhesoe, and heads over. "You ok?" he asks, then glances over at the eggs. "A little scary, but…not really, right? Wonder who she's gonna go to." he comments, nudging the younger boy.
Brilliant Phoenix Green Hatchling is rather surprised to find herself suddenly out of the confines of the shell, and sitting on the sands. A moment later, the undignified position that she is, indeed, in registers, and she quickly manages to get to her feet, snorting loudly as a petite muzzle is extended in the ring of white around her.
Tori shuffles closer to the others, eyeing the appearing dragonets nervously. "They're moving awfully fast, don't you think?" she whispers to no one in particular. Alright, all she has to do is keep from getting mauled. Shouldn't be hard.
Aryann squeaks again as the next dragonet appears. "Uh. Green." The obvious, indeed. Without looking away, she hops a little in place, lifting her one foot at a time off the sands to try and let them cool down a fraction.
With a loud crack-bang the Four Hooved Hunter Egg falls to pieces. Flashes of copper greet the light over the feline-frame of the newly-revealed bronze beast, the dragonet sitting for a moment as he attempts to clean off the goo and sand attached to his body. But wait, his facets whirl faster as he catches upon the white forms over there. After removing what he could of the goo, taking his time about it, he lowers his belly to the sand and slinks over to those litttle white things. With an agile gate, he straightens as he comes forward, stopping in front of the oldest male candidate on the sands, Fardecoram, after passing and knocking over a few of the other candidates. "Well well, Sophonath, back in my day, a dragonet had to catch his own food!" Fa'dram proclaims, raising his creakish voice in announcement of the bronze's name, before heading over to the food supplied.
Merola looks at Tori and grins. "They don't move so fast that you'd get hit if you're paying attention." She replies, catching the Impression of the young Bronze. "Well done, Sophonath!" she calls, unable to remember the man. "See? If they'd payed more attention they wouldn't have been knocked over."
Messev jumps a little in startlement as one of the eggs breaks with a loud noise, and he looks over at it as it hatches into a bronze. He hurries out of the dragonet's way, trying not to get trampled. "He's…big!" Gulp. And gets taken. Whew. "Er…congrats." he calls over.
Rhesoe is a little startled, and quite nervous. "I'll be fine," he squeaks to Messev, then squeaks as the bronze hatches, and Impresses. "Its going rather quickly now…" he squeaks.
Bryndarelle begins dancing slightly in place. Glancing only long enough to realize the new dragonet is bronze before ignoring in favor of the green she has a chance at. "Congrats Fa'dram" She yells when the roar of the crowd alerts her to the impression. "Rhesoe, you'll be fine." She says comfortingly, but without taking her eyes off the little green.
Brilliant Phoenix Green Hatchling isn't moving that fast. Yet. Muzzle remains extended as she begins to carefully pick her way across the sands, each limb placed carefully to avoid any ugly mishaps as she nears the group, beginning to make her way down the line, examining those presented to her for suitability.
Tori gives Merola a weak smile. "They're moving fast enough for me." She just manages to catch the Impression of the bronze, adding her cheers to the crowd. "I just need to stay out of their way."
Quietly the Lonely Mother Bear Egg shatters, shards falling to reveal a lovely, dappled green. Slinking across the sands, the green hatchling takes no time to find her prey, though slowly she saunters. With little distance from her, she jumps out in a flight across the sands to Kaisa, a tall lass with feathery blackish-grey hair. Sand spurts up at the green dragonet's halt infront of the girl, and Kaisa bends down to acknowledge the eyes beset upon her. "H-hello S-Stelmariath…" Kaisa pats the green's triangular head, looking ever joyful. "Of course w-we shall feed you, d-dearheart."
Aryann blinks and blinks again at the rapid bronze pairing before smileing weakly when a fellow candidate moves closer.
Feathered Messenger Egg rustles a little sand around it's base. Maybe….maybe…
Messev nods in agreement with Rhesoe. "They /are/ going fast! Dragons hatching all over the place!" eye all the eggshells. "Cool, wonder if I'd be allowed to keep some of those, the shells were really pretty." He made them prettier. In his own way. Green is watched again. Then another green hatches, and he watches her find her lifemate quickly. "Congrats!" he says, worriedly fingering his robe.
Merola smiles and nods, her eyes locked upon the Green, as she happens to be the only Hatchling moving about at the time. "You'd better not let your Lifemate hear that you want to say away from him or her." She grin, spotting Kaisa's Impression to Green Stelmariath. "See? Can't keep them away if it's meant to be." Jaamor nods in agreement, his gaze sweeping over the Eggs before they rest once more upon the Green.
Rhesoe looks down at the eggshells with a sort of hungry look only a kleptomaniac can get. "I think they're pretty too…" he says softly, watching all the comings and goings as if in a daze.
Feathered Messenger Egg rolls out of it's spot and manages to go a few feet before it pops open with a sharp crack. A wing appears first, then an arm, swiftly followed by a whole hatchling, dripping egg goo onto the sands.
|To The Heavens Blue Hatchling|
|Deep steel blue hues take hold over this average sized blue dragon's smooth hide from head to tail. Wedge shaped head and sharply pointed eye ridges are enhanced by pale sky blues that almost fade away to nothing against the darker shades. His long neck and wide chest bare the brunt of a collision between medium and royal blue hues which continue down along his underbelly and up slightly over his haunches. The darkest hues are found near his talons and the ridges along his back which are a solid midnight blue, giving a strong contrast to the ghostly light blue that starts along the back of his neck and spreads out over the top of his wings and ends at his lower back, as though the blue carries a light film of ashes. Large, wide wings are, overall the same steel blue as the rest of his body with the very tips darkening into medium and then royal blues.|
Bryndarelle speaks softly to the little green as she she approaches the group. "Come on little darling. I won't hurt you. I can get you food." She looks up as the other green breaks shell, but it impresses another candidate before she can decide whether to keep trying with this one or make an attempt at that one. In her peripherial vision she sees a blue crack shell, but has decided to focus on one hatchling at a time and calmly ignores it.
Tori shuffles back and forth, watching the green most closely. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose I'll just try to keep a safe distance, then. But not too far off." She wipes her palms down on her robe and sighs. At least she'll be safe again soon.
Brilliant Phoenix Green Hatchling makes its way the rest of the way down the line, pausing momentarily before Messev before continuing, settling herself primly infront of a golden haired, pudgy candidate, watching the girl haughtily. It would certainly not be appropriate for her to run, now.
Merola turns as she hears another Egg hatch and lets out an audible gasp. "He's beautiful…" She whispers. Jaamor smirk. "Handsome." Merola frowns, "What?" "Males are handsome." The young man correct with a soft laugh as he nods towards the Golden ClutchMother and her young Green daughter. "Females are beautiful."
Messev nods in agreement. "Of course they are." Then a blue hatches, and he looks over curiously. "That one's got a lot of colors. Of blue, I mean." he comments. He glances from green to blue, blinking as the green pauses in front of him. The green moves on, so he shrugs and watches her a bit longer to see who she decided on.
Tori blinks down at the little green before her. Who knew her safety would be in the form of a little dragon? But there she is, and Tori's on her knees, wrapping her arms around the damp neck. "Emoryith" she whispers the name like a prayer. "Yes, yes, love, we'll find you some food. This way." She heads towards Kirilla, a radiant smile on her face.
Aryann fliches, squeaks and fidgets some more before her attention zero's in on the green who has stopped before "Tori?" Hearing the name, Ary promptly squeals. "Tori!"
Kirilla beams at the newest Impressee. "On over here, Tori! We'll get you set up with some food." The weyrlingmaster waves the newest weyrling over to the side.
To The Heavens Blue Hatchling slinks forward in slow motion, casting his eyes this way and that. Which one, out of all these, is mine? With a stretch of his wings, he's on the move, pausing at a female candidate. This one? No, not quite. The quest continues!
Bryndarelle as the green passes her by she scans the group of eggs and candidates quickly, trying to identify any other likely possibilities. And sees the blue again. She watches it carefully. "Come here, little blue." She whispers softly. "She yells "Congrats Tori!!"
Merola jumps off the Sands as Jaamor lets out a woop the moment Tori speaks Emoryith's name. "Don't _do_ that!" She hisses, her fellow Candidate just smirks before his emotions slip behind an unreadable mask as he watches the Blue. "No shame in being happy for a friend." He replies firmly.
Rhesoe squeaks, at the Impression so close bye, and then turns his head to watch the rest of the hatchlings. He can hardly thing. Tori impresses, and he near faints. "Oh my!"
Strong Young Warrior Egg shakes slightly, almost fluttering, before it vanishes once more.
Messev watches the green pick, and he beams. "Congrats, Tori!" he says cheerfully. "Emoryith? Take good care of her." he says with a nod. Tori take care of green, or green take care of Tori? Shrug, and look over to see where the blue went. His heart should be visible by now through his robe, it's thumping so hard.
The Winged Runner Egg rocks from one side to the other, bounces twice, then shivers lazily and seems to split lazily into several large pieces, which fall away and reveal a Prancing Petite Pony Green Hatchling.
|Prancing Petite Pony Green Hatchling|
|Green, the color of shimmering emeralds, coats the back of this petite, slender green, feathering out to lighter colors as it coats her side. Stretching out to her long, agile wings, the green gently verigates lighter and lighter, until a glittering jade sweeps along the very outside tips of her wings. Her wingspars are tipped in the same emerald green of her body, and the trailing edges of her dainty wings echo this same color. As the emerald feathers down her belly and to her extremities, it seems to pull color from her wings, perfectly echoing them as they shade lighter and lighter, until along her belly and the inside of her legs runs a stripe the same fierce, sparkling jade color as her wingedges, the stripe seeming to grow larger and larger until it envelopes the tips of her tail, muzzle and toes. Lithe, strong limbs end in talons so deep of an ebony they seem to reflect the area about her, the tips sharp enough to rend hide with no power expended at all. Her somewhat blunt ridges seem to favor her emerald hide, but they are of so deep a green that, unless one is in quite dim light, they seem black. Her muzzle is often tilted slightly upwards, sharply defined features seeming to take in the world around her with a tinge of arrogance. Her eyes are large and shimmering, reflecting her moods with a rapidity that gives her absolutely no time to hide them. All in all, she is a petite dragon, of somewhat meduim size for her color.|
To The Heavens Blue Hatchling pads along, his movements deliberate. C'mon, where's his one. Again, he pauses at a promising young girl, looking upward for a moment before shuffling off. Nope. Maybe he's barking up the wrong tree. Seems so, because he makes a beeline for several boys. Maybe that's more his style.
Messev blinks at this new green that hatches. Glance about, then look towards the blue again. Heading towards boys? Look hopeful. "He doesn't seem to like girls much." Well, of course not, why would he? Girls are icky. Unless they're older.
Bryndarelle looks up quickly. Her attention jerked away from the blue by the loud crack of an egg nearby. She gasps as the most beautiful green dragon she's ever seen emerges. She remembers her earlier descision and turns back to the blue, but not without frequent glances at the green. As the blue moves towards the boys she focuses even more on the new green.
Prancing Petite Pony Green Hatchling trumpets a greeting to her clutch parents, extending her long neck out, wings stretched experimentally, muzzle nuzzling her egg shards for a long moment, reveling in being the momentary center of attention. Of someone. Perhaps. And then, her hunger becomes evident, and she starts making her way with less grace then her clutch sister towards the candidates.
A testament to its in-shell attitude, the Tangled Dance Explosion Egg explodes. From out of the shards, crawling as if wracked with pain, the brown dragonet makes it from his shell in a few steps, glaring outwards upon the candidates present. With a stalking allure, the midnight brown crests over the sands towards the white robes. Finally, in a speedy attempt, the brown makes a racing jump towards a lad, passing him up as he trips upon his wings and lands right in front of a tall slender lad known as Metatron. Pushing blonde strands from his pale face, he bends down to help the brown dragonet up and locks eyes with it. "I shall have to teach you a few things, Bolvangarth." Metatron, now M'tron, states, helping his brown companion toward his first meal.
Rhesoe just darts his eyes back and forth, back and forth. Hatchlings, candidates, new weyrlings. Where does Rhesoe come in!? He's…shuffling his feet in the sand, and sending nervous waves to his parents in the stands.
To The Heavens Blue Hatchling screeches to a halt in front of the group of boys, moving more slowly towards one in particular. Ah ha! That's the one! With a soft croon, he pushes his head against Messev and looks up in total agreement: Yes, girls are icky.
Merola's eyes slips towards the Blue as he continues to look at girls and finally turn towards boys. She grins towards Jaamor. "Maybe you have a better chance?" She whispers, spotting a Brown Impress another boy she never really got to know.
Aryann squeaks yet again and is almost down to chewing fingers instead of nails. "Green. Messev!" No, she was just looking at the green before she saw Messev Impress. "Messev!" she repeats a moment later, her tone rising to another squeal.
Bryndarelle's prancing stop as her attention become more focused on the new green. She steps forward to help her walk, but stops suddenly remembering how dangerous unimpressed hatchlings can be. So she simply watches, not even noticing as she starts muttering under her breath again. "Come here little one. You're just hungary I can feed you. Come on I'll love you forever."
Prancing Petite Pony Green Hatchling pauses half way to the group, tail flicking back and forth momentarily as she regards the boys on the sands, before snorting at them and simply ignoring their presence. Who needs them? Another bit of an attention getting stretch and she's on the move, attention only on the girl's now.
Rhesoe squeaks at the blue that is next to him, butting against Messev! "Oh! Mess!" he squeals happily, and anxiously. "Yay!" then he turns again. Oh, greens and blues mostly, and the bronze that was impressed. He bites his nails.
From the Unfaithful Prophecies Egg, a tiny green erupts from her shell, bright colors of emerald leaping over her hide in the light. For a moment, she stands there around her shattered shell, before making a dive towards the candidates. Ooo. She struts amoung them until she locks onto a short young lass, almost looking to young to even be present. With a gasp, the little girl locks her fingers around the green dragonet's head, beaming. "Oh, my Belacquath!" she crys, the little girl, known as Lyra, leading her charge over for some meat as indicated by the weyrlingmaster. "Lets go feed your tummy, okay?" Lyra sqweeks happily, the green trailing along.
Messev just…blinks. "Xhonovith?" Glance about, shake something dazzling out of his head. "Oh!" startled glance at the blue. "Xhonovith!" BEAM. HUUG blue. "Sure! Food! Anything you want!" he says, delighted.
Guardian of the Golden Apples Egg twitches a little, then a little harder. Almost…
Merola can't help is, she gives a snort, then starts to giggle. Now it's Jaamor's turn to sush her, "What's so funny?" Merola snickers, "A Blue who doesn't like girls and a Green who doesn't think guys are worth it. Quite the pair." Her attention then turns towards Bryndarelle. She has her theories about Impression and only time will tell if trying to call a Hatchling does anything. For herself, Merola remains quiet and watches.
Kirilla glowers when she notes Messev's impression, but waves him over. "Over here, lad!"
Bryndarelle watches the little green carefully. Her lips moving swiftly as she focuses on drawing the little green towards her. "She's so beautiful." Her voice comes out in a tone of soft awe. Messev's exhultant voice reaches her. "Congrats Messev," she yells quickly.
Weights in Balance Egg rocks back and forth before finally settling into equilibrium for a long moment. And then, a crack appears, severing the shell into pieces, a sky blue dragon left. Standing tall for a moment, he examines his choices before moving forwards. And then, judgment is pronounced as a muzzle is shoved in to Zohariel's midsection. A moment later, the boy, now Z'hare, wraps his arms joyfully around the dragon's neck. "Of course I'll be fair and get you some food first, Alethiath!"
Messev grins at everyone, then heads over to Kirilla, assisting the blue. Beam at her even though she's glowering.
Prancing Petite Pony Green Hatchling knows she's gorgeous, too, as she stops infront of Bryndarelle, trumpeting rather mutedly at the seamstress, a muzzle nudged into the female's midsection. Guys certainly aren't with it.
Swirling chaos envelopes your mind, tickling it daintily with feathers of blue, purple, gray and white. «B'relle? About time.» She snorts softly in your mind, the color and chaos intensifying almost to the point of complete confusion and tension. Then, suddenly, it is soothed away, brushed softly into oblivion by the tickling feathers. «B'relle, this has all taken too long. I tire of this excitement and all these people. And the ache in my belly, B'relle. You /must/ relieve this ache.» The voice, sounding like softly tinkling windchimes, seems so together, so incredibly self-assured. «I am here, B'relle. You do not have to worry about being alone again.»
Merola smiles at the Impression. "Congratulations, Zohariel!" She eyes Jaamor oddly as he lets out what sound suspiciously like a relived sigh before she catches sight of the Green near Bryndarelle. She watches to see if her theory will be proven or broken.
Rhesoe can't help it, he squeaks. "Oh! I'm so nervous and excited!" He's having fun! But…looks like he might throw up any minute, and pulls a frilly looking hankerchief, with what looks like an embroidered name, 'Jella', out of his pocket to put to his lips. Now where did he get that?
Aryann is looking quite amused as Messev escorts his new dragon off the sands and quite misses seeing Bryndarelle's Impression until she looks around for the green. Only then does she greet the pairing with -another- excited squeal.
Guardian of the Golden Apples Egg twitches in it's place as flakes of shell chip away, the coils of the great serpent relaxing it's deathgrip on the hatchling inside until it falls away completely. With a stuttering bugle, the hatchling shakes off the last of it's shards and regards this new world.
|Subtle Smoke and Flowers Blue Hatchling|
|Rich cornflower blue blossoms over the stout torso of this dragon, waves of color rolling across his wide, bulky chest and strong neck. His whole body is compact, but heavily muscled, built much like a draft runner. The same bright blue frames a fiercely angular face, a softer smoke grey hue settling over each line, framing glinting jeweled eyes. Wings are slightly too short, contributing to his overall stocky apperance, but each sail and 'spar is dappled with various shades of deep cobalt and Prussian blue, overcast by a smokey haze that billows down into each sturdy, lowslung leg, tipped by brawny paws not the least bit gangly or graceful. A thick, blunt tail balances out his body, a powder blue down it's length into the very tip of his spade-shaped tail.|
Hiding Double Fish Egg gives one final push and splits asunder perfectly, spilling a fat little brown onto the sands. He staggers to his feet and promptly begins to bawl loudly as he walks around the candidates slowly. Thankfully, it doesn't last for very long, as he soon spies his choosen one in a young Lescorby from Ista. The young girl wraps her arms around the little brown, and cries out, "Joparith! Of course I'll feed you!" She stands, now Lee, and heads for the Weyrlingmaster.
Bryndarelle throws her arms around the neck of the small green as an expression of sheer joy comes over her face. "Gwynaleth, my dearest. Of course I'll get you some food." The newly named B'relle assists the small green off the sands steadying her with one strong arm.
Rhesoe watches the shattering of eggs, and their contents spilling forth into dragons that Impress and go off to others. Whens it his turn? He keeps the hanky to hips lips, eyes wide, and sort of dances on the stand. "Oooh, isn't he a handsome blue!" he says, eyes catching on the newest unimpressed hatchling.
Merola smiles, "Congratulations, Bryndarelle!" She calls because she looks thoughtful and turns to Jaamor. "Remind me to find out who changed their names." She whispers, beginning to shifts her feet due to the heat. Beside her, her fellow Xanadu Weyrbrat joins in the Hatching-poka.
Subtle Smoke and Flowers Blue Hatchling creels softly and clunks forward, not a bit as graceful as the others. He'll work on it. Dragging his tail behind him in an undiginified manner, he pauses before a young lad from Eastern and whuffles. You? No, not quite. Something a little be more unusual, perhaps.
The occupant of the Celestial Throne egg is ready. No more waiting or wondering. The shell shatters, and out from the midst is a dainty, delicate spring-hued green. She steps away from the shards and shakes herself off, then moves toward the candidates, her pace smooth and elegant for one so young. She glides in and out of the rankings of candidates, then notices a tall, handsome Lord's son standing with some rather pretty girls. The green is forceful now, butting his legs. Asamariel leans down - just as poised as she - and smiles. "Yes. Marisath, you're more gorgeous than any of these. Come along, then." As'riel leads the green toward food, the two unable to keep from physical contact.
Kirilla continues to herd the newly-impressed toward the food. "Come along, B'relle, As'riel. Food's this way!"
"Isn't that my hanky?" says a girl near to Rhesoe, but suddenly Marisath impressed nearby, and the girl is distracted long enough for Rhesoe to stick the hanky in his pocket again. He watches the blue now, distracted away from the other goings on. "He's a bit wobbly, but he'll get the hang of it, I'm sure…" Yep. Slow and steady wins the booty.
Aryann calls congratulations to As'riel and looks around the rapidly diminishing group before focusing on the blue still looking.
Merola grins as she overhears Rhesoe's comment. "Dragons tend to gain gracefulness as they mature. With a few rare exceptions."
Subtle Smoke and Flowers Blue Hatchling stops in due course at a young man, leering at him for a moment before moving on. C'mon! Where's the good stuff? Hearing Merola's comment, he heads for her, head tilted curiously. Whose isn't graceful? He's plenty graceful! Just for that, nothing for you! He sticks his nose up in the air and shuffles away.
Strong Younger Warrior Egg explodes with a bang. The shards fall around the feet of a huge, bear-like brown. Deepest forest browns cover this dragonet. He shakes himself off, releasing a rumble in the process. The big brown lumbers slowly toward the remaining candidates. He takes his time picking his partner, though. They're all glanced at, some even given a shove or two before he settles in front of a scruffy, pudgy lad from Xanadu hold, named Inoreak. The boy's face splits in a wide beam. "Brynisoth! Yes, Brynisoth, you're the other half of my soul!" Iorek and Brynisoth heads toward the edge of the sands, both perfectly content having found eachother.
Merola glares at Jaamor as he bursts out laughing. "Not funny." She mutters, a deep blush comming to her cheeks. "Not funny," He agrees, "_Priceless!_"
Rhesoe giggles at the blue's behavior, and claps. "Bravo!" he says. "Good form!" he giggles, and whirls in place. Thats the way! He watches the Impressed of the brown, and pouts. He's getting anxious, and pulls out the hanky again.
Subtle Smoke and Flowers Blue Hatchling perks up at a voice and bounds away, huffing loudly as he goes. With a triumphant creel, he thumps into place infront of Rhesoe and seizes the hanky the young man just produced and whips it out of hands! Ah ha! After all, a klepto deserves a klepto for a partner. And this blue is the master, even if he's obvious about it.
Patience, patience. The Misty Figurine Egg remained still throughout the hatching, but now, striations begin to cover the surface, breaking the soft surface apart. Soon the egg shatters, unable to stand the pressure, and left on top of the shards is a regal ginger-bronze. He stays in place for several minutes, daintily picking at bits of shell and goo. At the same time, his head is tilted, eyes whirling as he looks over the candidates. Satisfied with his neatness, he rises, and quickly makes his way to the robed-ones. He wastes no time in picking out a rangy holder boy named William. The boy falls to his knees and is immediately butted by the bronze. will stands back up and beams around, leading his new life mate toward the weyrlingmaster and food. "Yes, Kirjavath, we'll find some tasties now."
Aryann mutters to herself and says slowly, "Brown. Iorek? The scruffball?" Then she looks back to the blue and grins. "Oh, good choice."
Rhesoe squeals at the snatching of the hankerchief, and bursts into tears. "Oh Siyamath, but you have found me!" he hugs the blue tightly, and wipes away the eggy goo and bits from his new lifepartners eyes. "My big blue protector," he says, crying, and kissing Siyamath on the nose.
Merola catches the Impression of Rhesoe and his Siyamath and gives two quick, soft claps. "Well done, Siyamath, you've stolen his heart like a master."
Kirilla beams and waves the last two weyrlings over. "Excellent pairs. This way, Rhesoe, Will. Food's over here."
Elia watches the last egg hatch, sliding off the gold's leg as the bronze find his match. She makes her way to the remaining candidates, motioning them over. "Well, it seems your lifemates were'nt in this clutch, but don't worry. You were Searched for good reason, so they are out there. Until you find them, however, you're more than welcome to stay at Xanadu, or we'll arrange whatever transport you need to go home. Either way, thank you so much for Standing."
Merola smiles and offers curtsies to the ClutchMother and -Father. Then she turns to Jaamor. "What will you do?" She whispers. He looks down, his face an unreadable mask one more. "I don't know. Maybe talk to my parents."
Aryann beams some more as Rhesoe departs with Siyamath and looks around and ohs softly. "All gone." Yep, all those eggs are now in shards as far as she can see. Hearing Elia, she blinks at the junior weyrwoman for a moment before smiling. "I think I have to stay, at least until my Hall says otherwise."
B'relle looks sadly at the unimpressed candidates. She congratulates her fellow impressees. "Congrats all. I can't believe it. I couldn't even impress a firelizard."
Rhesoe, now R'soe, is too distracted by leading his stumbling blue counterpart away from the sands towards food, perhaps even too distracted to notice his parents waving happily. Yes, Siyamath is hungry! And so, R'soe must feed him! "You'll like Xanadu, well, most of it, don't go to the latrines they smell, but wait until you meet my Mother, she's a Harper, and all the people here are so nice, and ooh, I think you have egg goopy in your eyes, let me just wipe that away…" And so it goes.
S'sev is busy hugging Xhonovith, but looks over belatedly, looking a little sympathetic towards the others. "Sorry?"
B'relle quickly grabs a handful of meat from the bowl being passed around. "Yes, dearest I hadn't forgotten." She says as she begins handing her pieces of meat.
"All right. Enough of the party. Don't let your dragons gorge themselves, weyrlings." Kirilla directs the fourteen new weyrlings, then leaves them in the charge of assistants, and goes toward Niva and Elia. "I found evidence of the chalk-artist's identity before we moved onto the sands."
S'sev gives a rather guilty start. Oh, right. Dutifully give Xhonovith meat, smiling delightedly at the blue as he does so. "You're wonderful, Xhonovith!"
R'soe reaches for a bowl, and takes a couple peices of meat, feeding them daintily to Siyamath, as if to a little baby…which he is. "Chew slowly now, thats…what? Mash the teeth together," he demonstrates. "Swallow, yeah, thats right. Your doing good! Oh, are you still goopy? Itchy, hmmm…I think we should do your tummy firsy, my love, then we'll oil you…" he scritches the blue on the ears, and smiles in pure delight at the creeling happy sound the blue makes at that. Just the right spot!
B'relle takes a bowl of meat in one hand now that enough have been brought out for everyone. She feeds Gwynaleth more slowly than the little green would like. "No, Gwynaleth. You must chew. I don't want you choking to death before you learn to fly."
S'sev rubs a hand caressingly over Xhonovith's head as the blue eats, smiling tenderly at the young dragon. "Yes, we'll go outside soon. The sky's really great. It's all..blue and everything." he says. "Like you!"