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.
It is late - and that may even be an understatement. Even those of the Weyr that prefer to eat late have finished their meals and retired to bed - but that is hardly enough to dissuade Kiyaszaeth and Elsvruth’s eggs from choosing this particular time to hatch. The humming was quiet at first, growing in intensity as more and more dragons awoke to join in, and the massive floodlights were found in the Caverns to illuminate the eggs. Of course, with the curse of the white fluffy seed things floating everywhere, and everything covered in a fine coating of pollen, the bright lights do little but create harsh shadows and washed out hues. Kiyaszaeth has no time for pacing, instead she is settled near the eggs, head turned to watch the entrance from the candidate barracks. Wendyn? She isn’t late, honest - though her clothing is anything but matching and she looks rather out of sorts as she makes her way onto the viewing platform.
Cloaked by Magic Egg gives a little shake, the fine yellow grains of pollen that had settled upon the upper curves if its pearlescent surface falling away in a smooth motion, while those bits of white fluff that had landed float off lazily. With the pearly surface unmarred, the egg stills once more.
A'she is here. He's even dressed. He might be a little disheveled - but it's late. He has an excuse. Edging around the Sands to his sister's side, he glances at Wendyn, shaking his head. "She's just like you," he rumbles. "Inconsiderate to a tee." Then he grins broadly. "This ought to be good."
The candidates enter, as group in the pollen thick air. Together they bow to the Dam and Sire and then are to proceed onto the sands where eggs already wriggle.
Moonlight Legend Egg starts to wiggle and shimmy, sending a small spreading of pollen across the sand as it starts to quake. Maybe it’s a figment of the imagination, though, a skittering of shadow across black.
Most of them are sneezing. The candidates. Not the eggs.
Q'ton leads the candidates out onto the Sands, stepping aside to join the other riders, and counting to make sure everyone made it out.
Wendyn stifles a yawn as the eggs start to move, and Kiyaszaeth is shuffling a little closer to the eggs with a rumble of greeting as the candidates appear, and Wendyn's retort to her brother is thankfully lost to anyone beyond his hearing. "I think you mean beautiful and perfectly on time."
Elsvruth? Of course he's here. He's always been here. And he is staring at those candidates. I'aija, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. He's not late, of course, but he looks damp and is currently fighting with the fluff that's decided his hair is just perfect to stick to. "Jays, this stuff is terrible," is mostly muttered to himself. Of course, he abandons those efforts when he joins Wendyn on the viewing platform - taking the side that A'she isn't occupying. He casually hooks an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to the side of her head. "Definitely perfect timing," he concurs.
Bellamy does indeed move out onto the sands following that group entrance and bow, sticking close to Viren and Sonya and his hands are totally not shaking. Nope. It's your imagination. Putting on his brightest smile, he finds a spot that will work for now, silver-rimmed golden eyes darting from one eg to the next. The Ista born harper may not be sneezing, coughing, and hacking but, "I can't really see very well…" he mutters.
Cloaked by Magic Egg is suddenly shaken sharply, a crack appearing along one side, the smooth white shell beginning to separate, a large portion falling away from the top quarter of the egg. And then, it seems as if it is time to rest after such an expenditure of energy, for the egg stills again.
Zelien plods out onto the sands, trying to be careful of his footing on the giving grounds as he follows somewhere in the line of candidates, past dam and sire and on towards the clutch. He comes to a halt next to Tykel and looks up and down the line of hopeful faces before focusing to the moving eggs. Here he is again, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him he watches, and tries not to sneeze.
Moonlight Legend Egg makes a sickening sound, the /crack/ of the egg’s shell can be heard across the sands, but immediately any hint of what lies beneath the surface is covered up by a flurry of pollen sticking to the contents and settling once more.
Viren may still be half asleep but once that bow is completed he's making sure he moves in a clump with Bellamy and Sonya. The safety of the barracks now left far behind, and safety in numbers not entireely secured, his eyes are showing significant signs of redenning and wateriness, and even as his hands dig into the sides of his robe it's quite clear that the urge to scratch is Super Strong with this one. "Stupid trees."
Cloaked by Magic Egg can stand the assault from within no further, and the beautiful pearly shell gives way, shards falling to the sands beneath it, leaving a hatchling in the remains, even as white fluff already begins to settle and stick.
Sonya wasn't asleep despite the late hour for Reasons so she ambles along behind the others with a look of panic on her expression. She's been told it's time and the humming of nearly every winged thing in the weyr certainly proves it. Rubbing at puffy eyes two sneezes escape once they are in place on the sands. A few blinks and sniffles as she strains her eyes towards the eggs. "They moving yet?" she hisses a question as she nudges herself in between Bellamy and Viren.
| Just a Cloned Hatchling |
|---|
| There is truly nothing particularly remarkable about this hatchling, nothing to make it stand out from its peers - aside from perhaps the dark shadows that seem to engulf its hind limbs. A bulky shape, the white cottony seeds that have been floating around Monaco Bay have already begun to cling to damp hide, while the soft yellow of pollen seems to glow in the lights along huge wingsails and muzzle. |
Lilyera is mid-sneeze as she finds herself a place to settle, and it's by basically — everyone she knows, so you'll all have to listen to her commentary: "I think," she says, "That the robes aren't going to be white no matter what. Because they are yellow." The entire hatching is golds now.
Daybreak’s Bell Egg seems to shift, as if the tailor who assembled this fake egg upon the sands has snuck in to begin to disassemble their piece of art at the worst moment in time. A poof of pollen, and the egg shifts onto its side.
Suyi, another of the AWLM's, sidles up next to Q'ton before sweeping her gaze across the hatching caverns…as best she can. "It's kind of cute. Maybe they'll look like little fluffy stuffed toys when they hatch." There's a glimmer of amusement in the bluerider's eye, but not even a hint of worry. It'll all be fine!
A'she leans towards Wendyn, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Of course I did. What did you think I meant?" Teasing aside, it's clear the Weyrlingmaster is easily as proud of this clutch as any his own bronze has sired; his eyes shine as he stares out over the Sands, watching the Candidates with a sharp, clear gaze. Briefly, his eyes slew to the side, glancing at I'aija over his sister's head - but he says nothing, content to let the other bronzerider have his moment without bringing him on the familial teasing. For now.
Sonya agrees with Lilyera on that. "Yellow robes…I just hope the dragons can see us." she murmurs.
Bellamy squints, waving a hand in front of his face, "I can't tell, maybe…I assume? Probably?" Yeah, that fanning gesture does nothing to give him a clue as to what is going on. He does inch a bit closer to Sonya though. At least he can hear his pals! A chuckle trickles out of him for what Viren says, "Right?"
Wendyn is comfortable up there, despite the late hour, with her two favorite bronzeriders - shh, nobody tell A'she - and as she leans into I'aija's arm she sighs. "I wish someone would do something about the lights. I swear it is just.. shadows. Shadows and fluff." And yes, that is a complaint, if you missed it.
Just a Cloned Hatchling is here. It may be the first of this clutch, but not the last, and in the whole scheme of things, it is just one of many. And yet - there are choices to be made, decisions that will impact the future - if only there wasn’t all this *white stuff* floating around. An annoyed huff and the hatchling gives an awkward flick of its wings in an attempt to dislodge the worst of it.
Moonlight Legend Egg may have already hatched before this moment, because there are no more sounds of cracking happening just the slow movement of something escaping the shell and rolling around on the sands to collect so much fluff that it’s just a mass. A trill can be heard announcing the arrival of this dragonet.
Tykel is there as well, blinking sleep from his silver blue eyes, but all dressed in white robe and ready to go. He looks around keenly, bowing to sire and dam, and then taking up position near Zelien, leaving the other Candidate plenty of room to manuver though. One hatchling already out. Was it his? Sapphire fire blazes within his eyes at the very thought. And he smiles, giving Zelien a quick thumbs up before settling on the balls of his feet, ready to move if needed.
Q'ton snickers and covers his mouth with one hand, "Pretty little stuffies for our new weyrlings, huh" Suddenly he wrinkles his nose, "They'll need baths as soon as they've fed." And won't that be a chore? He sighs, "I am not looking forward to having to help carry slippery, wet, sleeping hatchlings in and putting them to bed."
| It’s So FLUFFY Hatchling |
|---|
| Rotund. No sooner than this little beast is hatched it’s out there rolling in as much fluff as its little body can hold. By the time it’s finished, it’s about twice the size that it’s supposed to be. Probably. Where is the head? How can it see? These are all very good questions which are found out as soon as it starts moving. There’s a flutter of what one might suspect are wings, but with how much fluff there is, they look like tiny little things flailing about in the fluff. The tail, however, still can be visibly seen, the shadowed length swishing back and forth and sending more fluff flying in its wake. |
Viren absolutely does not flush slightly when Sonya pushes in between him and Bell, nope, that's just a reaction to the pollen. "Honestly. Who knows." Is muttered back at her, then, "If I actually claw an eye out they can fix that, right?" his hands twitch but do not detatch from his robe… yet.
Daybreak’s Bell Egg cracks sharply, as if the seams have been ripped hurriedly apart from within - this pattern is all wrong, just all wrong. Tear it apart, and start over!
Zelien sucks in a breath as the first egg relents and its occupant arrives upon the scene. It's a, a, a hatchling. yes, that'll do as the back of his hand rubs at his nose. He flaces a nervous smile to Tykel at the thumbs up, gleaning a bit of confidence to face the coming hatchlings and whatever fate may be his at the, or is it the beginning of the day?
Lilyera makes a mistake, then, and takes a deep breath. And then breaks into a cough because she just inhaled what was probably dandelion fluff. "Okay. Nobody do what I just did. Some of it's white? And they can — smell us? I think they should be able to smell us, and they know us 'cause of the touchings, sort of." Which means a lower odds of dangerous collisions, but not a total lack of them.
Suyi shifts her attention from the snads to Q'ton with a slight smirk, "Bet I can carry more of them than you!" The little jibe fades into silecne as she turns to see the newly arrived dragons. Despite her easy going demeanor, the woman's eyes seem to be carefully examining each arrival. Juuuuuust in case.
Fifty Shades of Blue Egg does a little shimmy and then a little wobbling bob,, as if it is dancing to some internal song audible only to itself, sending little puffs of pollen and white fluffies into the air.
It's So FLUFFY Hatchling arrives out of the shell without the pomp and circumstance of some of the others, sliding out onto the sands and rolling a couple times before it finally tries to start moving with purpose. Unfortunately, that purpose is sending it in the opposite direction of the white robed candidates. Here's hoping someone stops it soon!
Sonya grabs Viren's hand. To help him resist scratching. Not at all because she's nervous. She um…also grabs Bellamy's hand too. Because….reasons. At the very least it occupies both her own hands to keep from itching her own eyes. "I see movement." she whispers as if afraid to be overheard by roaming baby dragons.
I'aija flashes A'she an easy smile, friendly and warm despite the fact that he's tired, damp, and sporting enough fluff in his hair to pass as a gosling. "Hopefully this lot won't be too much of a handful for you and yours," is tossed to A'she. It's sympathetic. Another squeeze is given to Wendyn and he grimaces. "Is there anything that can be done about them?" It's a genuine question, though not one that he's in any state to ponder at length. "The lights, I mean." As if he meant doing something about fluffy dragonets. That would be silly.
Just a Cloned Hatchling has lost the battle with the fluffy white things - even as it lingers near its shell, they cling to its damp hide, and a low rumble escapes - one abruptly cut off with a sharp sneeze. Wings flare once more, the damp sails doing nothing but picking up sand, and finally, it is time to move. A battle cannot be won if it is never begun, and so despite the floating motes, it is towards that ring of white - that ring of friends?
Bellamy waves a hand again to no avail, but hey, it's making him feel better. "I can hear cracking?" And maybe there was some basic squishy sounds, then shadows moving in the yellow tinted gloom. There is a side eye in Viren's general direction, "Oh, that's happy. Thanks so much for that image…" With his hand grabbed by Sonya, Bell gives it a squeeze and takes a long slow breath in and out and…something was coming closer. "Uh, guys…"
Daybreak’s Bell Egg suddenly seems to collapse in on itself, the crack stretching around the shell and the upper portion falling until the whole egg is nothing more than egg shards, and a dragonet is left sitting covered in shards and fluff and pollen.Daybreak’s Bell Egg suddenly seems to collapse in on itself, the crack stretching around the shell and the upper portion falling until the whole egg is nothing more than egg shards, and a dragonet is left sitting covered in shards and fluff and pollen.
Q'ton shakes his head, chuckling at Suyi, "You're on." And his attention returns to the seeking hatchlings and shaking eggs.
| Wavering Reflections Hatchling |
|---|
| With pollen and white fluff thrown in the air by the other hatchlings and the candidates, this hatchling has surely been dealt a poor hand - already white clings from the tip of its nose and along its serpentine form, and yellow pollen seems to glow in the harsh lights along headknobs and eyeridges. Certainly, the hundreds of tiny, sharp egg shards that cling to it’s hide do not help, as the shadows they cast and bright contrast of them leave any other coloration details unknown. |
A sudden crack breaks the silence and Fifty Shades of Blue egg is suddenly no longer dancing, freezing in place as all eyes are drawn to it, and the harsh black line along one side.
Lilyera wiggles her free-handed fingers about, not having done the hand-holding thing and now not sure if she should be or if she's okay as-is. She hasn't got pockets to put those hands in; instead she runs them through her hair, like that can stop fluff from sticking, and presses her lips together as the eggs really get a move on. "Lots of cracking."
Hm. Is Mysterious Mutagen Egg even moving? It's hard to say. Surely it must be - why else would it be nearly on its side now? Perhaps it's just moving particularly slowly. Watching it doesn't seem to hasten it along, so maybe it will just be a matter of time.
Viren must be very allergic because his face reddens even more once his hand is grabbed, and the urge to scratch must be very bad because he is not willing to let go. Not with that side at least. "Movement? Where?" With a whine of frustration is free hand lifts, knickles digging firmly into an eye as he tries his best to alleviate the itching there. His hand retreats, but that eye remains closed for a moment, eventually blinking back open as he tries to regain focus.
Tykel is watching everything, staying alert and trying to guess which way the dragonets are going to go…so he can get out of the way if he needs to. He steps a little closer to Zelien, trying, apparently, to ease the man's nervousness. Nevermind that his own hands were visibly trembling with a mixture of excitement and nerves of his own.
Lilyera will be sure to get Viren something from her mother provided neither of them get mauled to death.
A'she snorts softly, his gaze tracking hatchlings through the pollen and gloom as they trail across the Sands. He steps away from his sister's side, ready to move at a moment's notice should anything go awry. However, he's got two assistants out amongst the Candidates - one of whom he trusts implicitly with everything, and the other of whom… well, Q'ton's new. We'll see. Still, he leaves them to their job and keeps a weather eye on the goings on. "They'll be fine. We have a solid team." And if Z'tan ever stops being lazy and signs up for duty, the Weyrlings won't even have to muck out their own couches. Nice.
Just a Cloned Hatchling has a purpose, and it draws closer to the candidates without too much hesitation - stopping before one young man who simply cannot stop blinking. Pausing, it turns it head to peer at him quizzically - that shade of red doesn't seem quite normal.. But it is quite intriguing, and the hatching gives that dangling hand a sharp nudge with a fuzzy nose. More fun itchiness incoming!
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Just a Cloned Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
| Through the Ages Bronze Hatchling |
|---|
| Boots of weathered bronze clad the hind limbs of this stoutly built dragon, the dark hue ending abruptly midway past the joint, sharply contrasting the bright brassy-bronze hues that cover the rest of his hide. While not chubby, he is solid, the brightness of his hide doing nothing to slim his wide back, narrow his barrel chest, or obscure the muscles that gather beneath the hide of his short, strong neck - the richness of his coloring fading only along one forelimb - a forelimb that seems somehow smaller than its partner, a difference emphasized by its dull coloration. His muzzle seems too short, turned up slightly at the end and tinged with a reddish copper, a feature that allows his fangs to peek out in perpetuity. In contrast, his headknobs are entirely too long, and rather pointed rather than the smoothly rounded shapes of his siblings. Ridges of burnished bronze, warm and dark, originate here between those headknobs before they march down his back in a precise line, as if a well trained army on the move to invade the farthest reaches of his thick tail. Wingsails - large and brassy bright - are supported by copper-bronze spars, creating a cloak of mystery when they are folded to his sides - and a great shadow to spread upon all the lands when they are not. |
Zelien coughs as he inhales a bit to deeply and catches more of the fluff than his lungs want to handle. "Dear, at least this is a memorable one." he murmurs blinking watery eyes back to focus for as much as one can see. "I'll be curious to see how you capture this on paper." clearly to Tykel although his focus is in trying to discern movement to avoid any incidents with said hatchlings.
Wavering Reflections Hatchling stands quite regally on the sand where its egg once stood. Immediately large glowing eyes are turned towards the crowd of awaiting weyrlings. It takes its sweet time examining the group and the longer this dragonet stands there, the wider its maw opens - displaying a fearsome row of teeth that are both enticing and terrifying.
It's So FLUFFY Hatchling has walked far enough without hitting ANY candidates it decides to do an about face and make its way back towards the group. It's moving quicker now, trying to make up for lost time! Unfortunately, it takes another tumble and gathers even more fluff on its already extremely fluffy body and ends up bapping a candidate with its tail. Not /you/. Moving along, then!
L-egg-endary Defender Egg seems to glow from within, as if a life form is about to eme— on no, thats just a healthy dusting of yellow pollen. False alarm folks!
Lilyera offers up another sneeze as the Impression takes place — a bronze! to someone she actually knows! so how about that! — but it's too hard to even speak right then between the ability to take enough of a breath to yell and then, okay — she might have yelped JUST a little at Wavering Reflections. Just a little, because she's not sure those were teeth?
Tykel looks towards Zelien, blinking in the pollen swirl. "There's so much stuff flying around in here that I'm going to have a hard time of it!" he exclaims, his excitment betrayed in his tones. "But I'll do my best to make a rendering."
"I mean, as long as they aren't all blue, it can't be any worse than Chauth's last bunch. Hopefully." Wendyn offers a bit of a grimace at that thought, shaking her head, even as one hatchling seems to find its way to the edge of the sands, and the gentler light that is reflected upon the candidate. "See, not all blue!" She offers with an excited little bounce.
Finally! Movement! And quite vigorous at that. Mysterious Mutagen Egg is finally tiring of being a mere vessel for potential greatness. Great splits work their way across the shell. Yet, nothing is revealed; the contents still a mystery.
V'en's hand slackens on Sonya's, letting go and lifting for a second to scratch an itch that… doesn't belong to him. Even with blurry vision there's no mistaking the head against his hand, or the strange sensation of another voice within your head. "Izelyth." It's almost a whisper. A promise? "Yours. Definitely yours." His friends are forgotten, everything focussed now on this particular love of his life.
Sonya's eyes widen considerably as she lets go of Viren's hand quickly. "That's..he's….handsome." she hisses quickly as she steps sideways INTO Bellamy. Careful Bell, don't let her fall. Her puffy eyed gaze sweeps the immediate area to see if any other hatchling shapes are headed their direction. Ever vigilant! "I think I heard more eggs crack." maybe. It's all shadowy shapes and walking white fluff right now. Somewhere amongst all the chaos she remembers to breath and peeks past Bellamy to ask. "Lily, you okay over there?"
Bellamy thrums a mhmmmhmmmm towards Lilyera, barely able to make her, Tykel or Zelien out. Pals! Compadres! Then, something was happening? Through the thick yellow spiced air comes something to change everything, just caught by the corner of the harper's eyes and yes, indeed. Something has happened for sure and he catches a breath somewhere in the back of his throat, making his words come out slightly choked, "Congrats V…" Hey, it covered all the bases, right?
Fifty Shades of Blue Egg resumes its movement then, rolling suddenly backwards, the crack facing the sand before a set of legs emerges from beneath it, and then the shell is cracking the rest of the way, leaving a sandy, damp dragonet in its place.
Wavering Reflections Hatchling sways as it moves forward. There is one /single/ moment when its feet give out beneath it, but immediately the small creature is back on its feet. Finally it arrives before the line of candidates and begins inspecting each one more closely. Ah, such pleasant offerings! Surely one of them is up to snuff!
| It's a Monster Hatchling |
|---|
| Long but lean, the dark sands of Monaco Bay’s hatching ground turn this hatchling into a shadow almost immediately - though puffs of white settle long the edges of its form, bright highlights against the darkness - marking the edges of headknobs and wingsails, while pollen settles lazily over hide. |
It's a Monster Hatchling is stunned for a moment, as the remains of its shell fall away, before it shakes its head and gets on its way towards that ring of white. This girl? Nah, too prissy. That boy? Too scientific. Finally, it stops before one of the oldest of the candidates, Gargamel, a dark hair man not far from aging out of candidacy, considering before pushing through the mans legs knocking him over so it can settle a large head on his chest. "Azraelth?" The man - now G'mel - manages after a moment, finally getting a chance to sit up. "Of course, of course, we can get food."
With a triumphant cry the It's a Monster Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
| Master of the Forest Brown Hatchling |
|---|
| Dark brown bark clings to every inch of his long form - climbing up his slender limbs and curling upwards along his long body, and encasing his chest and neck. Hints of olive green tickle his muzzle and the leading edges of his wings, while dappled brown shadows cover his wing sails, like the canopy of woods caught in the fading light of a setting Rukbat. |
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
The Spark of Artificial Life Egg spins slowly in place, colors and shapes seeming to shift across its surface as it twirls within its sandy bed. As it stills once more, the pattern of line and hue seems to have changed, altered, and where once there were almost seamless transitions, now gaps show - faint thin lines criss-crossing across its bulbous surface.
Lilyera's next yelp is slightly quieter, but a response to the sound of the Sonya-Bellamy collide. A gentle collide, right? No injuries! "That was Viren, yeah? I think?" They were a little closer. Her attempts to speak are again drowned out by coughs, and, "I guess Mum can't get him something for the eyes yet but maybe late— " She cannot finish that sentence. Cough, cough, "I'm as fine as possible," is more squeaked. "Definitely gonna be scaring off dragons."
L-egg-endary Defender Egg /definitely/ moved just then! A circular piece of shell flops onto the floor and a single claw pokes its way out…only to be immediately covered by a barrage of white fluff.
A HA! The shell that was so stubborn finally gives way. Mysterious Mutagen Egg ultimately disgorges its contents directly into the sands. There is nothing left of that noxious green shell; instead, there is a sticky mess of a dragonet on the sands, trying to make itself presentable.
| Sticky, Sneezy, and Sneaky Hatchling |
|---|
| Egg stickiness combines unpleasantly with sand and fluff and pollen to produce a diminutive figure that positively exudes displeasure. Such dissatisfaction with its current state is practically toxic, matching the mottled mixture of whites and yellows that cling imperfectly to its hide. It's a spectacularly noxious blend of powders and dust and plantstuff, practically a perfect combination for stealth - if only because it is guaranteed to make anyone sneeze and look away, rather than look directly at the bearer. |
Bellamy slowly nods his head at Lilyera, a little stunned still and so he barely seems to register the whole gentle collision thing, "Yeah…" Another wave of his hand, still not clearing the air enough to see but he keeps tying.
Wavering Reflections Hatchling narrows its gaze on one particular individual and begins moving towards him…albeit quite slowly. The steps are careful, measured, and nearly tantalizingly slow. Suspense and tension build in the air just before the dragons eyes meet that one a young man. Hello, sweetie!
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Wavering Reflections Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
| Rivers of the Rainforest Green Hatchling |
|---|
| As if amongst the darkness of the jungle floor, leaves of phthalo and castleton gather upon this slender lady’s form, climbing upwards from each dainty, taloned foot, claiming each too-long limb, feathering at her haunches, before giving way to the sun-dappled brightness of the rainforest canopy. Certainly, shadows of hunter green still linger along her sides, dancing upwards along her slightly concave belly to her serpentine neck, even going so far as to tickle the end of her overly long snout, but this darkness is never truly able to gain the same foothold as that growing at her feet. Celadon, mantis and tea green leaves layer upon each other, like vines climbing up her lean sides, seeming to flutter in the sun, the bright organic nature of the pattern creating a sense that it is ever changing, chasing those shadows away as they dance unending across her hide. Amidst the brighter greens of the rainforest, a river of avocado winds its way from between her large, faceted eyes, pooling over her headknobs, and along the neat line of ridges that runs down her back, hints of sandbars appearing as golden markings that appear irregularly along its way - a bit of brightness on an eyeridge, a smudge on that ridge, a long streak darting down the side of her tail. The river of avocado flows outwards across her shoulders to each overly large wing before dispersing across sails of pistachio and olivine, in a million tiny tributaries, golden hued sandbars defining the spars that support each sail, high spots in the endless river delta. |
With so many hatchlings on the Sands now Tykel has his head darting everywhere, trying to keep track of who is where so there will be no collisions. He steps sideways to dodge and then tries to return to his position in line. "How you doing, Zelien?" he calls, wiping at one watering eye.
Q'ton picks his way across the sands to V'en and Izelyth, "Come on. We'll get him fed." He can't help but smile, "And bathed."
The Spark of Artificial Life Egg jerks and jolts, gaps widening into jagged fissures, splitting and gaping, flaws in the system. Whatever is within seeks to force its way out, straining the egg's capacity to contain the awesome power of its occupant. What was once a harmonious whole is now riddled with cracks, the illusion of solidity fading into the reality of a frailty that will not last.
Lilyera is doing her best to stay on top of things. But the meteorologist's instinct toward observation is muted slightly especially since she couldn't possibly write anything down, and how is Tykel meant to draw it like this? "I promise the reports," sneeze, "didn't mention this or I'd have warned everyone," especially in the middle of the night! The weather anomaly is getting studied to death … later. "I think I heard Izelyth? And …" And there goes someone else. Someone else she was talking to directly.
Zelien finds it hard to distinguish "You've got your work cut out for you." he continues softly. Is that a tumbling hatching over there, another camoflouged in the sands and fluff elsewhere. He sighs, glancing back amongst the candiates neough to realize that at least one has paired off. He flashes a quick smile to Bellamy and shifts his feet. The heat of the sands hasn't changed, even if the atmosphere of this hatching is its own uniqueness. "I, I'm ok i think. The sweat isn't helpign to try to stay clean. I think we'll end up being the least white clad things out here."
It's So FLUFFY Hatchling has eyes. It does. They're in there and whirling in colors of red and yellow as it starts walking along the line. Nope. Nope. Nope. Wait, this one smells interesting. /Nope/. Oh, wait. This one looks promising. The little hatchling flops its tired body right on the sand in front of a dashing young man with green colored eyes. /This one/.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the It’s So FLUFFY Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
| Kaleidoscope Dragonfly Green Hatchling |
|---|
| Shimmering and beautiful, this delicate green is as ethereal as she is grounded, phantasmagoria made real. Her headknobs are slender and delicate, sloping back from a wide, angular forehead. Tiny, silvered details glimmer faintly along the length of each arched prominence, bending and swooping in pale iridescence. A similar colour flecks high cheekbones in tiny, starry pinpricks, motes of pale color that make overlarge eyes seem quaint, doeish, dear. A long, strong nose ends in a gently rounded snout, nostrils sleek and streamlined, chin dainty in the extreme. Though the rest of her features are particularly elfin, her jaw is blocky and strong, belying a deep inner fortitude hidden amidst so much grace. The rest of her form follows in a similar vein, long, sloping neck edged with nigh-triangular 'ridges, their faint argent shine implying the rise of so many blades along her spine. Squared shoulders and hips taper to slim, muscled legs, paws dainty and narrow with prominent knuckles and sharp pearlescent claws. Faint netted twirls of bluish-purple sheen spin from wrists to toes upon each forepaw in the appearance of gloves. Though perhaps at first glance an unusual touch, given the soft sage that comprises her base, it takes only a ray of sunlight, a flicker of fire, or a moonbeam's caress to set her form ablaze, coruscating purples, blues, and other cool-minded colors for which there are not and never will be names rippling in fantastical billows and rises, the majesty of which is typically reserved for the birthplace of stars. This fey iridescence trails down neck and sides, twines betwixt ridges, alights in dew-dropped pools along her sides before fading into twinkling scintilla near her tail's end. Overlong almost to the point of dragging, this tail is nevertheless expressive, motions taking on a life, a mood, a meaning of their own. The same deep royal-phthalo that tips each end of her forked tail is reflected along the borders of her wings, leading edges and aileron both painted with a heavy hand before breaking in mirror-like shatters across the wing’s entire length. Each pale, silvered membrane beneath seems to have been stretched to the point of translucence, hide thin enough that green veins stand out at the finest points of her sails. No matter how seemingly-fragile this veil, the muscles that support her wings are toned and firm, the strength in their bulk a subtle reassurance: not only can she fly, she will do so swiftly, and often. The only question is, can anyone else keep up? |
"Even if they were all blue-" but they aren't and I'aija is torn between looking relieved and pained as a bronze and brown find their chosen ones. A look is shot to Elsvruth, who is still humming and staring at the remaining candidates rather than tracking the progress of his (and Kiya's!) offspring. The bronzerider turns his head away to utter a jaw-cracking yawn that promptly devolves into a coughing fit. Thanks, nature.
Sticky, Sneezy, and Sneaky Hatchling is just going to be, well, sticky and gross for a while longer. Any efforts at cleaning up are met with dismal failure and the young dragon briefly looks skyward with an air of long-suffering and despair. That misery is compounded with a trio of violent sneezes that ultimately compel the creature to start on its journey. Never-you-mind that Elsvruth's got his eye on the wandering ball of toxic fluff!
Bellamy was totally smiling at Zelien, really! But again, something was moving just out of the corner of his eyes, something sneaky and stealthy and oh HELLO! Silver-rimmed golden eyes widen to the size of saucers as it happens, "S…Sareth?" he stammers and swallows hard, again nodding his head slowly even as his legs threaten to buckle. "Uh, sure…I could live with B'ay…" Then, just like that, the once candidate breaks out in a wide and sharp-tooth grin, "Well, then…we should get you something to eat shouldn't we!"
Lilyera didn't actually talk to Zelien right before Impression, so maybe that isn't quite a family curse — but she's squinting really hard in that direction and balling her fists until they create fingernail half-moons in her palms to not rub her eyes or mess with ehr hair. Or make terribly loud noises, because there are some fierce little dragons out there. The hatchling sneezing as much as she is gets a smile in what she believes is probably the correct direction before, "Sareth!" She heard that one! "Congratulations, Sareth."
Sonya didn't collide. Much. Okay, a little but she straightens up quick enough. One hand tugs nervously at the end of her perfectly plaited hair. A sigh escapes her as she keeps a vigilant watch for unexpected….*squeak*. No longer is she holding hands with part time hairdresser part time harper full time candidate. And that's the second time she didn't see a large shape headed there way! Grrr. A sneeze. Then two and a third escapes as she backpeddles slightly. Abandoned by both Bell and Viren she sidles sideways towards Lily. And again keeps an eye forward.
L-egg-endary Defender Egg is hatching! Or…is that another gust of white fluff? NO. No it is definitely hatching! Amidst the plant-derived haze the L-egg-endary Defender Egg seems to be disintegrating before your very eyes, much like ash being carried away by the wind. In the end, what remains is a young dragon, tail held high, legs crouched, and intense gaze directed towards the candidates.
| Storm Spark Hatchling |
|---|
| There /is/ a dragon here, yes….but at the moment this creature looks more like a rather large yellow cottonball than a dragon. What should be a smooth hide is immediately smothered by pollen as it tumbles out of its shell. Only two eyes stand out amongst that fuzzy haze, one entirely black and the other whirling with a rainbow of colors. |
Sticky, Sneezy, and Sneaky Hatchling continues to sneak and weave as best as possible amongst the remaining candidates. A few are left sneezing in its wake; others pretend to be oblivious (to their watering eyes and itching noses, that is.) But none dare to lay hands on the noxious creature in their midst and it continues, unmolested, but with a mounting (and marginally melodramatic) sense of desperation. A feline flick-flick-flick of paws ensues when too much sand gathers between lengthy digits. A violent twitch-twitch-twitch of tail does little to dislodge a mass of pollenated fluff. Where? Where is the one that will cleanse it of this foulness?!
Tykel spares Zelien a look, shifting his weight to try to ease his feet. "Definately the least white clad things out here in the end of it." He raises hands to his head, checking to see if the silver barrette-style clasps that hold his hair behind his ears are still secure. He has silent applause for Bellamy's Impression before he resumes his shifting watching dance on the Sands.
Wendyn takes half a step away from I'aija as he starts coughing, turning to frown at him and wrinkling up her nose as she does so. "Thanks.." She offers with a sigh, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck, making a face. "Just because it makes -you- cough, doesn't mean you need to share." Of course, laughing at her weyrmate seems to come back to bite her, and she gives a little sneeze, sighing even as Kiyaszaeth gives a rumble from where she sits - a lovely yellow that is not her normal gold, watching the few remaining eggs and the wandering hatchlings.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Truly Outrageous Egg is not at all shaking. It might appear to have moved, but that's just an illusion. Truly, truly an illusion.
The Spark of Artificial Life Egg gives one last, echoing crack, then shatters apart, raining shards of color all about. It collapses in a dusty heap, clinging to the goo-wet hide of the mountain of a hatchling left behind in its wake. Even as the last of the egg falls to the sands, the plant-and-pollen coated mountain of A Dandelion's Destiny Hatchling rises ponderously to its feet, its thick wedge-shaped head swinging about to stare mournfully at the remains of its home. With a sigh, it lifts its gaze to the white-robed Candidates around it and sneezes thoughtfully, then sits amidst the ruins of its previous home.
| A Dandelion's Destiny Hatchling |
|---|
| Bold and blocky, a mountainous bulk, this hatchling is all over plant-matter and pollen, a mingling of white down and yellow dust that obscures any hint of the color beneath. Despite the coating of fuzz and fluff, however, there's a clear definition of muscle and sinew, of length and breadth and width that suggest size and power outstanding - for all the hatchling appears to be no more than a mobile dandelion pacing ponderously across the Sands. |
Lilyera still has the instinct for deep breaths, and she's going to complain about them now: "I keep wanting to inhale, and it keeps being the worst idea ever," she tells Sonya with the tiniest sigh. An exhaled-only sigh. "Look at the one with the — the shaking off the fluffs, can you see that? Am I hallucinating that? I think that's a dragon. And that is a huge dragon." That's about Dandelion's Destiny, that last one. A certainty of giantness.
A'she watches, lurking near the clutching pair, one eye on the hatchlings, one eye on the Candidates, one eye on the Weyrlings and his assistants, and a fourth on Wendyn, making sure his sister is holding up okay. Wait. How many eyes was that? Never you mind - it's the power of the beard.
Sticky, Sneezy, and Sneaky Hatchling stops abruptly, its too-long nose abruptly pointing toward one brunette in particular. No, not that one. No, not that other one. Another sneeze ruins any attempt at stealth as it marches right up to a brown-haired and blue-eyed Starcrafter, a young woman who will surely assist! The dragonet gently butts its head against her shins and sneezes (again and with great apology, no doubt) and is finally with the one that will be its partner in crime - forever.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Sticky, Sneezy, and Sneaky Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
| Dangerously Dapper Blue Hatchling |
|---|
| This diminutive blue isn't so much draped in Prussian blue as he is clad in it; the rich, dark cyan-blue cleaves to his lean and lithe form like a perfectly-fitted suit. His nose is a straight, noble thing - just ignore that it's a little too long for his handsome face and that there's a peculiar shadow of deeper blue that spreads under his nose and along his upper lip like a mustache. Jeweled eyes glitter - sly and secretive - beneath finely sculpted eyeridges, while his headknobs and neckridges are rakishly - nay, stylishly - slicked back. He carries himself like a distinguished gentleman, from the tip of that too-long nose, through his elegantly lengthy digits, and the casual sweep of his perfectly proportioned, if problematically prehensile, tail. His wings break the dark illusion of a singularly shadowy-blue figure; muted teal vapors haze over those 'sails. Drips and drops of aqua and turquoise are vexingly spattered on those wingsails, toxic and intoxicating in their splendor. |
Zelien stretches a hand to brush at his robe, departing some of the pollen he'd picked up wandering over. It's then he comes to realize the proximity of the quite fluffily covered hatchinglin adn eyes meet and widen in as much as surprise as admiration, joy, love. The tangled awe of emotions as his legs give out and he swipes some of the flluff from the hatchlings neck. Ze'n no longer needing to worry "Korith" he can barely choke out, and not just because he's having a hard tie finding his voice. A bubble of laughter and his hand goesto rub at her knobs, while he casts a glance back towards Tykel "Sorry, lets amend that last. I'm just fine now." but the little green isn't, the rumble of an empty tummy and he's looking abashed. "Hungry, oh food, right. right!"
Something is really happening with Truly Outrageous Egg! It's gone from pacing behind the stage to really starting to heat up. It's so hot, it's starting to crack! It shudders hard, practically vibrating in place with anticipation.
Storm Spark Hatchling rolls out of its egg and immediately stands on it's fe— oh wait, no. No, it's down. WAIT. It's up again. Chest puffed out the new dragonet casts its gaze towards the line of waiting candidates…and immediately looks confused. Perhaps it's the pollen that is messing up this hatchling's vibe, or perhaps it is the one eye that seems to be lacking the usual swirling colors.
Tykel gives Z'en a thumbs up and then steps clear to give him and his green room to move freely. Hatchling legs aren't always the most steady. He shakes his head, clawing the pollen out of his eyes, and strangles a sneeze.
Elsvruth is not about to touch Kiyaszaeth with all of that yellowness on her; as it is, he's going to be going for a bath immediately after those eggs are hatched and Impressed. Meanwhile, I'aija finishes his coughing fit (he tried to turn away! Honest) and shoots Wendyn a look that's quick to crack into soft, good-natured laughter when she sneezes. She gets a squeeze, a kiss, and then he's back to counting eggs and dragons and candidates. "Almost done. I think."
A Dandelion's Destiny Hatchling sits amongst the ruins of their previous home, gazing sorrowfully down upon the shards and shells that litter the Sands around it. With a hefty sigh, it lumbers to its feet, every movement deliberate, down to the slight curve of its tail as it gains a foothold in the shifting sands. Once it is steady, it raises its head and snorts out a great cloud of fluff and pollen, then begins to pace towards the nearest cluster of white-robed Candidates, step by careful, cautious step.
Lilyera has always been a bright and earnest person; there's not an ounce of secretiveness or stealth or shade that would come to her naturally. But maybe it's always been what she needed. Maybe she's still trying to hold her breath as her voice threatens to crack with a laughter that will only cause more harm in the end. But around the edges, she does appear to be breaking a little. From delight, from amusement, from — "I guess it is now," she tells her new partner-in-crime, wiping a little bit of pollen from his snout, "Yaszaelgith, Y-a-s-z-a-e-l-g-i-t-h," someone in her family is writing it down she knows she has to spell it helpfully, "I would be honored to feed you, sir."
Sonya is…lucky? For the third time she barely has any warning as a hatchling approaches and leaves her without someone beside her. Drawing in a deep breath she…lets it go in a loud, pollen burning cough. Backing up another step she stops before she's too far away from the candidates that are left. "Well…shards." she rasps after her coughing fit finishes. "Way to go Lily…he's handsome!"
Storm Spark Hatchling makes its way forward quite confidently before strutting up and down the line of…candidates. There /does/ seem to be something wrong with that right eye because that whole field of vision appears to be a blind spot. Unfortunately…the result is a SWING of the tail and a THUMP which leaves one poor candidate on the ground. WHOOPS. There's an apologetic rumble from the dragonet before it continues its search.
Finally! It's as if the limelight has settled on Truly Outrageous Egg - the egg grows still and waits for just the right moment before exploding, shards scattering far and wide. It's a mighty dramatic entrance for a- … wait, is that a yellow hatchling?
| Matte Mystery Hatchling |
|---|
| What happens when egg-sticky hide meets a cloud of pollen and plant dandruff? This happens. This is a flat, matte, yellow dragonet with some crazy floofiness that moves with an unquestionable swagger. The pollen clings to every nook and cranny of this one's hide, giving nothing away. What lies beneath? It is impossible to tell - the color is pure and unbroken, a pristine shell of pollen-yellowness over fluff that's one good sneeze away from turning into an impromptu costume change. |
Wendyn narrows her eyes to peer at the portion of the sands where the 8 eggs once stood, and as she does so, the last hatches and an 8th lovely yellow and fluff hatchling is there to find its lifemate. "I think that is the last of them. Shards, though, will anyone miss me if I spend a sevenday *anywhere but here* until this horribleness is over?" THe pollen that is. "I mean, my job is done, even if yours is just beginning, dear brother."
Suyi winces as one of the hatchlings knocks a candidate down, "That one…might nead to have that one looked at." There's a brief glance up towards where A'she is, to see if he's seen the same, and then one over to Q'ton. Thankfull said candidate is back on his feet so no /human/ healers needed!
No sooner than Matte Mystery Hatchling has, well, hatched than it's on the move. There is no hesitation, no quibbling over which one would be perfect for it. No. No, this one knows exactly what its hearts desire and that would be a tall, long-haired, blonde Techcrafter. She is perfect - and a perfect match for its perfection. "Roryleth!" Xingri's surprise is practically melodic and the young dragon lifts its voice with a delighted warble.
With a triumphant cry the Matte Mystery Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
| Musical Misfit Brown Hatchling |
|---|
| Brown is never a brash, bold color - which means this particular dragon carries himself in a way to make up for it. There's a wildness to the set of his tawny-hued neckridges that pairs well with the charismatic sweep of his eyeridges. Confidence and arrogance in equal measure practically ooze from every pore of this otherwise perfectly proportioned, yellow-ochre brown. Straight stripes in a much deeper brown race their way down his haunches and the length of his tail, coming in a curious contrast to the scattering of red-brown triangles that adorn his wings. |
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
A'she casts a brief glance down at Wendyn, his beard stretching in a slow smile. "At the very least, take a day or two and yon bronzerider and rent one of the cottages at the resort. Bring us some money and get yourself a little shuteye." Because he totally expects them to be sleeping, right? Suyi's glance is intercepted and he waves his hand in acknowledgement, his gaze sliding towards the Candidate left sprawling on the Sands by the hatchling. Seeing them back on their feet, he grunts. Disappointed? Maaaaybe.
Q'ton nods and waits a moment to make sure the downed candidate gets back to his feet, "At least it was just someone knocked down, not mauled." He steps over to another of the new pairs to help them out of the way and to food.
Sonya keeps doing little shuffling steps as the heat seems to increase with every moment out there. Squinting she tries to follow the progress of anything moving.
With everything happening so fast Tykel has no time to wonder about his own chances of Impressing one of the remaining hatchlings…he's thinking about getting out of the way, especially after seeing one of his fellow Candidates downed and than back on his feet again.
Storm Spark Hatchling stops at a candidate, one swirling eye looking her up and down. Nope. ANOTHER. This one? No. This one is too /puny/. ANOTHER. The inspection comes until Storm Spark Hatchling finally finds itself in front of a young weaver. Yes, this one, definitely /this/ one. With a rumble of delight Storm Spark Hatchling thrusts its head directly into the weaver candidate's chest.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Storm Spark Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
| Son of Valhalla Blue Hatchling |
|---|
| Aegan clouds roll over the chiseled snout and jaw of this blue dragon, bringing with them the full power of a raging storm. Glimpses of silver flash behind this dark blue shroud before finally erupting into a neon blaze over headknobs and spinal ridges. These beacons shine pale blue, appearing to almost pulsate with energy. Inevitably, this power is discharged as surges of lightning over billowing wingsails. Each claw is bathed in a metallic blue, speaking of danger to any who may draw this dragon's wrath. Though muscular, this dragon is well proportioned and would be a near perfect specimen…if it were not for his vision. A black scar mars the dragons eye and the area around it, and unlike his left one, it seems that this orb will never swirl with color. Here, the abyss has branded itself on this dragon, never to fade. Darkness has also left its mark on this creature's underside, but try as it might to take over this beast, it cannot. Pinpoints of celeste dot this midnight blue canvas, like stars serving as beacons of hope in the sky. |
With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Dandelion's Destiny Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
A Dandelion's Destiny Hatchling has wandered from group to group, rejected Candidate after Candidate - male and female, young and old, short and tall - it matters not, they all seem to lack the essential spark to jumpstart its heart's motor. With a bass rumble of irritation, it finally slews about, turning its nose towards yet another set of Candidates. Then eyes meet across the Sands, red-tinged-blue and sapphire, and that is that. With each step, speed grows and distance fades; like a lodestone to iron, it arrows in on its heart's true desire. Then, with a spray of sand and pollen it comes to a halt before a dark-haired Candidate, gazing firmly up into his eyes - and sparks fly.
| Master of His Own Destiny Bronze Hatchling |
|---|
| A blocky behemoth of a bronze is this, built to withstand all that life will throw at him. His entire build is designed with an eye for endurance and strength - his bulk is formidable and yet he carries himself with an unobtrusive sense of confidence. Wrought of gleaming, polished bronze, he is not a singularly colored entity - incandescent blue highlights race over his blunted muzzle and pensive eyeridges, before there is a bright spark and ribbons of aqua glitter brilliantly along short neckridges and tumble over his well-muscled shoulders. Scarlet-forged shadows shift within his joints and along his belly, further armoring his already well-protected form. Sparks of electric blue-bronze flare into life again along his haunches before jumping to the upper reaches of his tail, only to wink out by the time they reach the forked tips. And then there are his wings, vast pinions of rich, copper-bronze bound by sails hammered out of a blend of bright bronzes and seemingly affixed with steel rivets that wink and glitter, a timeless piece of construction work. Claws of dark gunmetal tip each wing, while talons made of blued steel emerge from blunted digits on each oversized foot, wickedly curved and ready to carve his place in the world. |
Tykelis caught off guard by the bronze's contact and he almost goes down himself, dropping to one knee to stroke the still wet bronze skin. "So it is you. I thought it might be," he says softly.
"I could leave the wing in the care of one of my 'seconds for a seven," I'aija considers aloud to Wendyn, with an eye toward the hatchlings that continue to wander in pursuit of their persons. "I think a vacation would be a great idea. Ierne?" It's just a notion, of course. And, just like that, the last of them are Impressed and Elsvruth falls silent, shifting his attention pointedly to his rider.
Sonya was on the LOOKOUT this time so when the shape lumbering over is closer she is ready. Or so she thinks. Honestly she was more prepared to avoid being knocked down so when a blue head is thrust into her chest she gives an 'oof' of surprise. Then she's standing still as can be, the heat of the sands utterly forgotten. "Rain?" Wait, it's not raining. "Oh Askaveth…." she croons throwing her arms around the blue. "Let's go feast!"
When it seems clear - despite the harsh lights, the pollen and the floating fuzz, that the eight eggs have all hatched and the eight hatchlings have found their eight new riders, Wendyn leans into I'aija for a second before stepping to the front of the platform to address the candidates that remain. "You're lifemate may not have been on the Sands here today, but the dragons saw something in each of you.. You are welcome to stay on at Monaco Bay, or we will return you wherever you wish to go. In the morning." And with a yawn as punctuation, she waves a hand in dismissal, returning to I'aija's side with a nod. "Ierne. Or Ista. Or anywhere that isn't yellow." She agrees, even as she heads off the platform, pausing to give her brother a quick hug. "Faranth help you."
Tykel strokes gently at the tender skin. "Szikrath," he mumurs. And then louder, raising his voice in exultation. "Szikrath!" The new bronzerider's voice cracks down to a low tenor…and seems content to stay there.
A'she folds his arms briefly around Wendyn. "Go. Rest," he murmurs, pushing her back towards I'aija with a nod to the other bronzerider before moving off towards the last of the Weyrlings to help gather Tykel and Sonya and their new lifemates and herd them towards the barracks along with his assistants. "Congratulations," he rumbles. "Let's get you - and your dragons - somewhere cleaner."
Q'ton can't help but grin at the new Weyrling pairs, helping to lead the last of them off the sands.
Sonya doesn't even notice the pollen and stuff…yeah, right. She's still sneezy as she follows towards food.