[The setup: Ur'con and Syra find themselves alone in the Commons Caverns late one night, about a sevenday from Arolaeth's due date. S'dan's just left for bed, and the pair pick up conversation after he's left.]
Ur'con chuckles a bit, and notes, "I know I've only been here a bit over a Turn, but I still can't always tell if S'dan actually has a sense of humor or not."
Syra clucks her tongue, smiling in amusement at Ur'con. "You'll learn to figure him out, eventually. Though I've had a lifetime of it, and sometimes I'm still not entirely sure." She sets the empty wineglass aside, then sighs again. "With any luck, Arolaeth will clutch a queen next seven, and then we'll be done with this nonsense. Let S'dan and you other wingleaders deal with all of this; I'm /tired/."
Ur'con grins, affiably enough. "Indeed." Well, about S'dan. He moves to start packing his sketches up again, though. "And I hope for a good healthy clutch, gold or no gold…though I understand the issue of having to take the mantel up at this point in your career. I don't suppose it'd be impossible to interview a few young goldriders from other, more well endowed Weyrs. Just to get you some help."
"It's not impossible, no. High Reaches, perhaps, or Igen; both of those have pretty heavy Eastern-influenced bloodlines, since we sent Lonriya off to the desert. Perhaps they owe us one." Syra quirks a smile, slightly smug. "Svetlanath never did manage to clutch a queen, herself; I suppose we should be grateful for that. She'd have done a terrible job raising her."
Ur'con chuckles, "Ah, see. Now that's something I admit to lacking…following the bloodlines. I wouldn't know a Telgari queen from a Reachian queen…and that's to my shame, I suppose. I should take a stroll through the records some day." Yeah. When he's about J'em's age. "Darlth's from a queen that's more Benden than anything…though she was clutched up at Telgar herself. Explains why he's roughly the size of a small barge."
"Remind me to run you through the records sometime, if you've an interest. Arolaeth clutched all her queens young, so there was a time when we had plenty and more to spare." Syra tilts her head consideringly at Ur'con, as if she could see his lifemate through him. "He's a big one; but then, they tend to grow the males big, up north. Females too, for that matter. Every time Arolaeth and I are at Ista, we feel rather like midgets. Some of their /bronzes/ are the size of her, and she's not particularly short." Just scrawny-skinny, despite her the eggs swelling her belly.
Ur'con snorts, "You want a behemoth, the current Senior at Ista…she looks more like a monsterous bronze than a gold herself. That gold she lost as a weyrling…lot like her dam, too." He chuckles a little, "We sound like a pair of old grannies, worrying about bloodlines." He sips at his klah, contemplating where S'dan's left…or maybe just the slight sound of late night rain that dampens down the noises from the Weyr.
"Well /some/ of us have made a lifetime's study of the topic, you know," Syra teases, a little ascerbic in echo of her lifemate. "It's the perogative of a weyrwoman to keep track of matings and bloodlines and the health of the hatchlings. And… speaking of hatchlings, Faranth- already?" She struggles to her feet, tiredness shoved aside in favor of alarm. "She should still have another seven to go! At least a few more days."
Ur'con cocks his head, as the goldrider rises to her feet, "Arolaeth?" Ooh, he's a perceptive one! Sarcasm intended.
"She thinks she needs to lay," Syra confirms, brow furrowing. "I don't know how she managed to get herself into the caverns without alarming half the Weyr. I'd better— forgive me, Ur'con, I'd best see to this. Will you be around, tonight? In case I— need to call to Xanadu." In case Arolaeth is in distress laying and can't call herself is implied.
Ur'con nods at that, "Of course." There's a tad more…formality in his nod, his voice, than usual. "You've only to call…" And then, he rises to his feet, "I can accompany you to the Sands, if you would prefer." He chuckles, "No use getting everyone else wound up over nothing." Right?
"Would you? I hate to rouse J'em for this— he's such a worrier, especially when it comes to the babies. No need to get him all worked up." Syra smiles, but her expression is tight and she barely waits for Ur'con before heading towards the sands. "I forget, has Darlth sired yet?"
Ur'con laughs a bit as he waves the question off, "No. He's lucky if he catches a green once a Turn, the lump. It's not that he's not eager…he's just about as nimble as a chucked firestone sack." He makes a bit of a face, and then notes, "Apparently Darlth is both awake, and aware…as he's currently watching Arolaeth from a respectable distance. And that's something. The beast hates rain."
Syra walks over to the Carved Passageway.
Syra has left.
Darlth> <Hatching Caverns> Syra walks into the Hatching Cavern, from the Candidate/Weyrling Cavern.
Darlth> Syra senses that Darlth is a darkened, but pallid, presence high up in the gallery ledges, his eyes whirling in excitement, but no sign of distress, as he keeps his distance from the black-minded Arolaeth.
You walk over to the Hatching Cavern, entering the room…
Eastern Weyr - Hatching Sands(#9377RIJMQas)
The sand of the cavern stretches out to all sides, searing hot at all times of the day from the geothermal heat that this extinct vulcano provides. With only the very top of the cavern open to the elements, allowing vision of the sky and the occasional shower through, but little more. Thick with dark sand, imported and sifted for its extreme fineness and silken feel, this cavern is home to the Queens during their brooding and their multitude of eggs. Off to one side is a risen platform for the Queen's rider and her mate's rider, allowing them a rest from the heat their dragons endure.
========================< Room Contents >========================
People: Ur'con Syra
Dragons: Arolaeth