Midnight is Perfect! (Egg Touching)

Monaco Bay Weyr - Hatching Sands
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 volcano 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.

Who wants to touch eggs at midnight??? Probably no one. And honestly /should/ they even be on the sands this late? Probably not. Is Szeta going to take kindly to this? Also perhaps not. But unfortunately for everyone, this is exactly when Reya is attempting to drag what candidates she could wake up onto the sands. "Guys, you have to be prepared for the /unexpected/. What if they hatch late in the night? You can't just be like 'OOOOO, I couldn't wake up!', that's not how this works." She has a surprising amount of energy for some reason. In any case she's leading the way onto the sands and waving the candidates towards the eggs, "Don't forget to bow. Make sure your hands are clean. No rough housing, blah blah blah. Just use your common sense ok? Not too hard! If you have any

Qhatiratrixth freezes as Reya enters with the Candidates and immediately drops limp against the Sands. Nevermind that the Half Moon bronze is all but draped across the Don't Be Evil Egg - he couldn't possibly be trying to steal it while Szetamirath and Seyunestudath sleep deeply nearby and Aeldhiyth is, oddly, absent. Right? Right. It's all good.

"Is it proper to hate you, Reya." Is it spite guiding Tyr's dropping of the ma'am? Does he realize it will probably make the goldrider HAPPY? Probably, and probably not, respectively. The candidate is the most rumpled anybody here has likely seen him — his hair isn't even pulled back! One leg of his PJs is hitched up to his knee. "The unexpected, you say." Ityrziel narrows his eyes at the rider, huffs, eyeing the motley assortment of dragons on the sands (and eggs) with trepidation. "Like dragons eating us for waking them up?" His tone says he doesn't believe what he says, but…you know. There he goes, bowing a vague, hitchy kind of thing, creeping along like he's actually going to fly under their radar as he inches closer to the eggs. Does he touch any, yet? No, no, he's going to let his peers take the first charge, like gentleman. Right.

Listen, y'all, this isn't going to go great. First of all, this is the first time Brohdan has even been on the sands, second of all it's freaking midnight, and third of all he probably got woken up by Reya. I'm not saying he still has nightmares about her demonic scuttle across High Reaches' caverns, but he still has nightmares about her demonic scuttle across High Reaches' caverns. He's extra jumpy as he follows the straggly pack of candidates onto the sands, putting himself as far from the weyrwoman as possible without being rude. "That dragon just moved," he whispers harsh, alarmed, eyes focused directly on Qhatiratrixth because maybe Tyr has a point about the eating thing!! "Or I thought he did…" Maybe a false alarm. It's fine. This is fine. Skirting wide of the thief and his egg-shaped teddy bear, Brohdan selects the most bright and garish egg he can find because he's heard things and isn't taking any risks with those dark bois over there.

< Brohdan touches egg 8 - That's MY Profile Song Egg >

There's an immediate eyeroll from Reya as she spots the bronze draped over the egg, "For Faranth's sake, these Half Moon dragons…you /should/ be able to touch all of the eggs." There's an amused smirk for Trix before she is making her way to the edge of the caverns. Apparently she is /prepared/ because there's a medium sized pile of pillows that she flings herself onto. "Please send all your hate in my direction! Hate is very very close to love. Or something…I don't know. Logic doesn't happen at midnight!" NEVERMIND that she literally just told them to use common sense.

Does Tyr look like the bronze would stop him from touching the egg? …yes. Yes he does. Absolutely, he does, but you know what. "I don't love anything at this time of the night." The harper declares, dramatic, still skulking along. He's definitely not using the others as bait, you're using the others as bait. It doesn't seem to work, though, since they remain unmauled, and — "Fine, fine." Sigh. Ityrziel inches closer to one of the eggs he hasn't approached yet, eyeing the bright spectrum of shades warily as he presses a (clean, yes) palm to the side of the shell. Slowly. S l o w l y. Just in case.

< Ityrziel touches egg 9 - You Have Connected Egg >

Ysabella as used to taking night shifts as she was, was not quite as perturbed to be woken so late. She was surprised about why though, and hadn't expected to be dragged to the Sands. Well, she wasn't dragged since it was really her own choice. Ysabella had gotten dressed for it quick enough, a sparkle of excitement in her gaze. It dimmed just slightly when her eyes swept over the eggs and landed on the Promises of Gold and Treasure Egg. She remembered the reactions of Wendyn and Ityrziel from the last Touching, and it wouldn't be a lie to say she was wary. Ysabella bowed, pausing for a moment. But then she'd step forward to touch the eggs, having seemingly worked herself up to it.

< Ysabella touches egg 1 - An Ominous Shade of Blue Egg >

Reya SIGHS oh so dramatically on her pile of pillows, "Fine Tyr, I guess only /R'en/ loves me." Of course, he is conveniently not here to correct her. This is definitely done on purpose. Poor poor Weyrleader.

Brohdan makes a noise that's a little less than a honk, a little more than a snort - it's a general wheezy unpleasantness that turns into a growl as he lifts all but one finger off the shell's surface. This is weird, thisisweird, thisisweird. But. It's. Not the terror-and-chaos everyone's gone and whispered about. Not yet. Brodie tamps down on the sweat he's got going on from more than just the sands, as he looks at someone nearby and says, "It's showing me things in my brain." …Yes, Brohdan. That is generally how eggs and dragons work, but he doesn't know that. This is all some measure of revolutionary, and so it is with equal inexperience that he answers the egg out loud. "I mean. If. If I had to chose it would be that one there. And that one over there. Heheh. Yes. He is that much of an asshole. I love it. Put it second." Is he poking the air with that lofted hand? He sure is. Booping and touching like a grandpa trying to use iPad technology. Nothing to see here. Once satisfied, he risks a look at the exchange between Tyr and Reya, snorting softly and muttering a low, "Does he though?," under his breath. Rude child.

Maybe he shouldn't have worried. Ityrziel doesn't relax, yet — he remembers the others — but he does hum a curious sound, eyes darting around, taking in whatever he's seeing. The harper's head tilts to one side, then the other, and his free hand comes up to feel around his neck. Whatever he's looking for, he doesn't find, and eyebrows crease briefly before something distracts him. "Oh!" Tyr murmurs on a sharp exhale, blinking rapidly at nothing. "I, well, it's — it's lovely, anyways." Can't bring himself to turn down even an egg? Talking to an egg? Again. MIDNIGHT. The candidate glances in Reya's direction with narrowed eyes, points the hand that had been flapping uselessly, accusatory. "Sleeping. R'en's sleeping, probably." Is he pouting, glancing sidelong at Brodie, too, with big sad eyes? You bet. He's not moving on from the egg, though, refocusing with a little tilt of his head.

"Oh he /does/ Broski, so much so that he's probably dreaming of me!" Sure - nightmares maybe. Reya rolls about in her pile of pillow for a moment before glancing back out over the sands. "You guys will have plenty of time to sleep…later. Maybe. What time is the morning shift again?" Lips purse slightly as the goldrider becomes lost in thought for a moment. Good thing Fuerioth is /also/ asleep otherwise she'd probably have the goldrider send all the candidates back to bed! How tragic would that be?

Brohdan is attempting to perfect enamored horror, wide-eyed and scared by the things this egg hath wrought in his mind, but also rather… enjoying it, in that strange way that people out of their depth often find themselves straining to embrace what they're experiencing. He even laughs, a singular deep boom as eyes move sightlessly, skimming something only he can see. "You make it sound so much more than it is. I was pleased, for sure, but this is just too much." He remains droll even as he glances away, gaze catching on Ityrziel's with a flickered grin and a waggle of pale brows. The good humor doesn't last. Reya addresses him, and he squints in her direction, offering a gruff, "He's not the only one." He ain't even gonna be abashed by those words - he focuses on the egg instead, offering it a sharp snort and a low, "No! That's rude. Wait! You're doing it wrong! I— Too late." Womp womp.

TRAGIC, maybe. Probably. Not that Ityrziel can appreciate that, on a baby firelizard sleep hangover, bless him. "Soon." The candidate mumbles ominously, looking for a second like he's going to lay down on the egg. It hasn't done anything wretched to him, yet, at least. Maybe it wouldn't mind being a pillow. "Morning's soon? Probably?" He continues, sounding distracted — caught up in whatever the egg's showing him now, more than likely. Given the way his jaw slacks, eyes scanning the horizon that isn't there and following one specific thing. "Faranth." The harper mutters, dumbstruck, second hand joining the first. "What is this. These eggs certainly — certainly have some imagination to them." To say the least, for some of them.

Brohdan isn't crying, YOU'RE CRYING. Just kidding. He's crying. "You're so right. They've always had my back, even when times were hard. You know me so well, hideous pink egg." Does he hug it? Yes. Yes he does. Listen, glomping hasn't been banned from everywhere, yet. Let him blubber for a second, second-hand emotions aren't exactly his forte. He can barely handle his own. SNIFFLE. "Don't worry. I will be sure to tell all my friends." So like. Two people. Listen shut up. "Goodbye, egg. You will always be just like an egg to me." One last patpat for the garish egg's shell and then, bolstered by this experience and his newfound, definitely-perfect understanding of how egg-brains work — "They're like those computers you showed me!", chirped to Tyr — he moves on to rest his hands on another.

< Brohdan touches egg 3 - Self-Proclaimed Perfection Egg >

Oh, she made a bad choice. A very bad choice. But as the sensations go on from the egg, Ysabella gets more irritated rather than downhearted. Focusing on her mistakes is not a habit she'd ever encouraged in herself and she doesn't appreciate an egg of all people (things?) forcing her to review them. It startled her at first, the colors made her eyes go wide and possibly a headache threaten behind her eyes. Ysabella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, briefly taking her hands off the egg. She collects herself, calms herself and then replaces her hands. Calm, she was calm.

Ityrziel's contemplation of this egg is soft around the edges; it seems to have improved his mood, even, since the candidate is almost smiling down at it. "Quite the tale." He tells it, quietly, head tilting, fingertips tapping along prismatic writing. "You've got a mind on you." That's an even quieter murmur, and is he reluctant to step away? Faranth's tail, he is! Giving one last pat-pat, the harper steps back, locks hands behind his back as he contemplates the eggies. "Computers? …full of information?" Tyr shoots for Brohdan, thoughtful, eyes roving among the others calculatingly. Just in case anybody's had to take a puke break, yet, y'know. Ysabella looks off, but Tyr seems to decide she's okay, moving closer to the egg Brodie'd hugged to tap gently. Anybody home?

< Ityrziel touches egg 8 - That's MY Profile Song Egg >

Brohdan is vindicated. Squinting, but vindicated. This isn't the same, exactly, but it is similar enough that his eyes move of their own volition, glancing around as though admiring subtle differences in the inner-egg architecture, or perhaps following the egg's motions. He clears his throat, an impatient noise, as though waiting to be heard. When that doesn't work, he shoots his harper-friend a look, one that's slightly puzzled as he says, "Maybe I was wrong. This one is not the same. It is…" Well. He doesn't know what it is, not yet. So he focuses back in and says, quite politely, "Excuse me!" Luckily he hasn't seen Ysabella's face. Yet.

"Ah!" There he gooooes, there he goooes again. He's squeaking like a squeaky toy, is Tyr, not quite as alarmed as he maybe was during his first round of torture. Touching. Whatever. "Ah — sorry, sorry, ah, friend." Maybe a little stressed, the harper pats down his sleep shirt, soothing rumpled bits with a free hand that can't quite sit still. He's watching here, too, eyes slowly widening as he takes in what's going on before him. "…how'd you. How? Do you know." He mumbles, maybe not quite so excited as Brodie'd been, bless. "Eh, well. Ah. Yyyyes? Yes. That's. Fine?" Tyr shifts, glancing around anxiously. Boy, he's a shifty one.

Ysabella relaxes as the sensations continue, her ire slowly fading. For whatever reason, that Ysabella didn't understand, this one focused on anxieties. And while it wasn't pleasant to be faced with those again, worries that she'd already buried or left behind, it wasn't as upsetting as it was the first time. Still irritating to have her faults examined like that when ever she herself didn't examine them that closely. But she appreciated the fleeting thought, that it might not be so bad. And maybe it wouldn't be, maybe her worries were for nothing. But she doubted it. Now curious about the mind inside, Ysabella lingers a moment longer by the egg.

Brohdan squints harder still, head pulling back to double his chins, nose crinkling dramatically, like a child looking into something bright without the wherewithall to actually look away. "Oh. I. Didn't know that was a— No, don't go out of your way I should… Well. I do enjoy brownies, now that you mention it. And snowdragons. And I do miss my mother's soup. But that would be very difficult to get right now." And yes, whether it's the egg's imposition or his own thoughts, he does consider the price, scrooched features scrooching further as he joins Tyr in being a shifty little shifteroo, waiting to be shown instead of digging for himself yet again.

Don't just stand there? Good, because Tyr jolts a little, here, eyes widening comically as he takes in something. "What is this!" The stressed out, sleep-deprived fellow mumbles, not sound angry, exactly, more deeply confused. As to how a being purely running on telepathy has access to this stuff? Look, nobody said he had to bring his brains out of bed with him. "Well, when you put it that way…" He's pouting again, maybe, then suddenly scowling, free arm curling protectively around his chest. "It's — they're not —" The harper doesn't quite flail, but his expression falls, right back into that pout. Does he move away, though? Nnnooo. "Why?" He wants to know, brows knitting.

Brohdan is uncomfortable. "I. But. What do you want. That's important too, you know. Don't you walk away from me mister! … Missy… Whatever you are! I don't like it, this isn't… equal…" Hrnf. It's a disgrunted huff he offers the egg as it powers down, fingers pulled from his shell as he says, "Fine, keep your secrets." It's sly, though, rather than upset, some of that excitement lingering in the quirk of his lips. He stands, dusting sand from his clothing as he passes back by his friend, giving the writhing harper a very sincerely concerned look. "Are you not enjoying it? Give it a chance. It knows you!," isn't creepy AT ALL BROHDAN. Honestly. THUMP THUMP, that is his hand clapping on Tyr's shoulder, supportive to the last as he lowkey trades out eggs with him in favor of another dark but colorful soul.

Ityrziel's eyes narrow, now, shoulders squaring. "I think not!" The harper tells the egg, still hugging himself. "I'm — I'm fine. Clearly." Clearly, because he's arguing with an egg that's off on an excited ramble and — "No, no, don't. Not sad. It's fine. I'm not, just, you've got it wrong. It's, look." Look at what? No, he can't actually seem to come up with an answer, stepping back and patting his hands down his sides absently. It looks, briefly, like he might try and sneak off, with Reya cuddled up on her pillows maybe back asleep, but — no. Then his eyes catch on the egg that sent him fleeing last time, and RESOLVE. HE IS RESOLVED. He is brave, and he is absolutely not going to run away from an egg just because it scared him. Tyr approaches the other, and sure, maybe his hand is a little wobbly as he presses it to the shell, but so what.

< Ityrziel touches egg 5 - Promises of Gold and Treasure Egg >

Ysabella is left feeling a little ill as she takes her hands off the egg. There were thoughts that she barely remembered thinking pulled forward, things she'd forgotten and it left her feeling a little unsteady on her feet. Though she didn't wobble, she did sway a little. Ysabella shakes her head before gathering herself and reaches out one more time to touch the shell lightly. She's not expecting a response just giving one of her own. The egg may not feel ready yet but someday she was sure it'd be ready for whatever life may throw at it. And then her gaze turns to the Promises of Gold and Treasure Egg. Time to brave what chased away two of the other candidates. Noticing Ityrziel at the Promises Egg, Ysabella changes her trajectory for now. Maybe it wasn't so bad? But first to greet this other.

"…..Ah. What." Ityrziel freezes, caught, squinting down at the egg warily. This isn't right. Like a scamp who's egged the wrong door, Tyr looks like he might try and inchhhh away, but — well. He's already here. The mind within, though, well. That gets a long, thoughtful kind of silence, lips pursed as he eyes the egg. "What's it to you?" The candidate finally murmurs, glancing around wildly for His Nemesis, The Egg That Scared The Crap Out Of Him. Brains? Out the window. Who needs brains, though, to keep a wary eye on the egg they're touching?

Tyr's frown grows as his shoulders hunch forward, hovering maybe a little protectively. "Settle, now. Hey. I know it's late, I'm sorry." He maybe mistakes the reasoning, a little, but it doesn't mean that he can't be wary and concerned at the same time. "Is that —" Yes, it sure is, and woah, isn't that strange. The harper gapes a little, fingers skittering in surprise across the shell. It takes a long beat for him to get the nerve up once he's re-settled; Tyr stretches the other hand out, now, tentatively. "What was that?" He ventures, glancing sidelong at Ysabella and shaking his head ruefully.

NOPE. NNNNNNNNNNOPE. "BLAHGH!" It matters not what the egg's intent was, or what his provided abilities are - Brohdan cannot bend his mind to cope with the ish he's seeing. A full-bodied backwards flail dumps him onto his own ass, hands held at the level of his head, eyes wide and horrified as he gasps for air. "Blahhh, fagh, how'd you even do that? How'd I even do that?! I was like-" arm paddles "-and the bubbles were like-" wooshing swimming noises "-and those… those creatures were like-" dolphin chirps. "It was horrible." Wonder, who? Not today! Nope. This is him, reaching max cans for one day, not even knowing what future DOOM he has awaiting him. Poor, sweet summer child. "I'll just be… over here." Is he doing to risk Reya-proximity to wait in comfort? He sure is. Write this day down while he curls his too-big self onto a too-small pillow and immediately falls asleep like it's a TALENT. Wake him when it's time to go.

Poor Brodie…falling asleep close to Reya? And such a deep sleep at that? "Bet I could carry him." Just like she tried and definitely /failed/ to carry Tyr. Hopefully she doesn't actually take any actions on this plan….

Ysabellas shoulders slump a little as she touches the egg. Letting out a breath she seems grateful even for the illusion of cool air. It's different from the others she's touched, so used to the sudden attention from the eggs that this lack of attention is a little surprising. But she doesn't let that deter her, almost preferring it a bit. Ysabella waits patiently by the egg to see if there'd be any further response.

"Tyr, Tyr, watch /this/." There is a 100% chance she told the archivist about her attempts to princess carry him. Now he gets to witness a second attempt. The goldrider is up on her feet and her hands, which are /very cold/ (think ghost-like Brodie) reach out for the candidate's shoulders and legs. "Ok ok…I /got/ this. I am a strong and muscle-y woman." Knees bend, back strains, and there's a grunt as she lifts his torso (and nothing else) maybe two millimeters of the pillow. "That was just a practice run. /Practice/."

Oh, Ysabella is a little startled. What she desires? Being offered so easily? Ysabella actually pulls away slightly by how readily it's offered. The bright and warmth is welcoming, but the potential cost. What did she want anyway? What did she desire in her life? And Ysabella was concerned to find that it was very little. She was just going with the flow, letting life pull her forward where it will without any endgame in mind. Ysabella was surprised to realize this, and falters slightly hands slipping from the shell for a moment before she's replacing them.

Ityrziel is hovering. Maybe. A little. "You're…are you alright, in there?" The harper murmurs, concerned, still frowning. Is he complaining about being dismissed without any sort of mental torment or otherwise? Faranth. Contradictory, this one. Thankfully for the egg, probably, Reya and Brohdan distract him from his concern. The harper takes a step back, squints at them warily. "Be careful, she'll draw rude things on your face." Did they actually? MAYBE. MAYBE NOT. "I — oh, Faranth, you'll throw your back out." Tyr doesn't quite squeak, inching towards Reya like he could possibly be of any help. "Sure. Practice. Aahhh…should I help?" Right. Like either one of them could manage that.

"Me? Throw out my back? Of course noooot!" Yeah, there is a serious possibility this may happen. Unfortunately her lifting has turned more into dragging at this point. "If I just slide him off the pillow and into my well defined arms…" He will probably just end up on the floor. She will probably end up in the infirmary. "If I /do/ hurt my back though, we can just wake up R'en to fix it." SO SIMPLE.

Ysabella pulls her hands back, letting them fold in front of her as she stares at the shell. Well now she was just concerned for occupant inside. Someone who wants to please completely can get into their own version of trouble. Trouble that can hurt themselves. Ysabella will just have to keep an eye out. She turns around, stating quietly, "I think it might be time to head back to bed for me." She seems to have a lot on her mind.

Tyr eyes Reya thoughtfully, like it's a totally legitimate point that she might not toss her back right out the window. Eventually something like sanity must assert itself, however, since the harper shakes his head. "Leave me here, then!" He calls, contradictiing Reya's cheer — but there's no heat in it, as he eyes Brodie. "He's a big guy." Tyr mutters, wary, but what is there for it? "Can't just leave him here, though, huh?" …can they? No, no, they probably can't. So he'll theoretically help carry the much bigger dude off of the sands. Maybe.

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