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.
Given the gold pair on the sands, few are surprised when the dragons begin keening in the middle of the night. Their children were clutched in darkness, and it seems that Fuerioth and Elenth's offspring will be hatched into it as well. It is the night's darkest hour, when most have been soundly asleep for at least several hours. The dragons' humming reverberates through the bowl, calling for the….offerings. Reya arrives quite quickly, far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for someone that's been sleeping. It's hard to tell whether there is excitement on her face or just glee at the fact they've managed to rest many a resident's peaceful slumber. Despite the impending arrival, the hatching caverns remain dark. Only moonlight and the stray glowbasket brought in by those who wish to watch light the area. It seems whatever repairs were to be made to the sabotaged wires have yet to be finished.
In the darkness, in the gloaming, in the quiet moonlight filters a group, otherworldly and ethereal in white robes: there is a great deal of surreality, both in the act of viewing and in the act of being viewed. They scatter into a semi-circle, a dirge of lightclaimed ringwraiths, to offer the formal gravity of a bow to the clutchparents: take this, the first sacrifice, and may it be the last that these moonlit Sands see in this night of nights.
The fog over Paths Obscured Egg shifts. It definitely shifted! No wait, maybe that was the egg that shifted? Hm…
In the deep, dim shadows, it is hard to tell when the deep, gray shell of the Bridge Between Realms Egg moves, but perhaps it did just then.
Straightening from his bow, Xhaevyr adjusts his NOT MESH robe and leans down to adjust the strap on one of his sandals. Good thing it's low-light in here, his robe is short enough that he'd be flashing the galleries if it wasn't all… creepy low light. Who had time for underwear? C'mon.
Nodding to the candidates standing to either side of her, Cinnitha whispers, "May this day bring you all happiness."
Jazhira has invaded Reya's half of the sands, leaving Szetamirath and Ysgieuth to overwatch their own clutch on the far side without rider oversight. Is this a good idea? Of course not. But when has Jaz been known for her good ideas? "Someday, we're going to get to actually see a hatching," she comments dryly in the dark.
Brungin is among those candidates, his short stature perhaps standing out. There's a touch of apprehension on his face as he glances about and then a slightly furrowed brow. "Are there…more of us?" It seems odd.
This time there's no denying it, Paths Obscured Egg is definitely moving. A shiver here, a wiggle there, the fog rolling back from the grey-green-brown beneath as cracks as fine as spinner-silk splinter across the surface.
J'en enters last behind the candidates with the weyrlingmaster and other assistants, dressed head to toe in black leathers with a crimson tanktop beneath his open jacket. He keeps a close eye on the white robbed ones, making sure everyone makes it out there among the eggs okay. Once they have, he takes his place at the edge of the sands, crossing his arms loosely over his middle and watching the chaos unfurl.
"Should I have brought a knife?" that's Xhaevyr to Brungin, not Cinnitha. Though knives totally bring certain people happiness.
Another bit of movement in the general area of where the Bridge Between Realms Egg was, and it seems the darkness grows that much deeper.. Was that a cracking noise?
Her own bow a deep and graceful thing, Kaitlyn rights her back smoothly, then moves to stand near CInnitha, her husky voice soon returning the 'blessing' with, "Good luck to you all…" Brungin's words make her look up, look around…chortle. "Nope." And then those grey eyes move to the eggs wobblnig out beyond them.
L'kan is here, honestly, he's just not all that easy to see lurking in the darkness next to Elenth. Granted he's a bit easier to see once said bronze slaps him on the back of the head with one wing and 'urges' him out to talk to the others, specifically Jaz at first. "Ah but what fun is seeing. Much more fun to go with the screaming, and the running, and the tripping over people. Wait, no, your way is much better."
"We should have brought glow baskets…I can hardly see anything. But knives could help too…" Brungin glances at Xhae and then some of the more unfamiliar candidates while frowning.
A final shudder and Paths Obscured Egg is done. There's no mighty crash, no deafening boom to mark the end of the egg. Just the silent splintering of the shell as it seems to dissolve, evaporate and vanish to leave a sprawling hatchling in its wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Shade And Light Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What little light might be found touches just enough of this hatchling to provide a vague outline, the rest bathed in shadows too dark to discern more than the fact that this is, in fact, a baby dragon. Sleek and wiry, glittering in the sticky-wet egg-goo, there is not enough clarity to discern color or true size. Just the hint of a neck-ridge in moon-kissed white, the suggestion of a paw in ebony shadow, the length of a tail that drags behind.
The cracks can be heard across the sand, the darkness seeming to accentuate sound. Eggs, no an egg begins to rock. Frozen in place, knees knocking she tries a step out from the group. "Yes, Kaitlyn…thanks!" she squeaks.
Roriandor was one of the later ones to dip a bow down to Sire and Dame before walking down into the sands and immediately wincing and doing a hot dance to try and keep his feet cool. "Good luck. Knives? No knives!"
"It is /so/ much more interesting when they're flailing around in the dark…" Reya chuckles darkly, her eyes attempting to adjust to the dim lighting. There's a gleeful look as the first hatchling pops out and Fuerioth lets out a croon at the newest arrival.
Xhaevyr eyes the nearest eggs and then squints out toward the clutchparents again. He doesn't bother moving from his spot next to Brungin, secure in a Smith group. What's the collective noun for a group of Smiths? "Oh, f.. … … udge." That's a hatchling. "Can you see anything?" he asks, squinting closer but not, like, enough to make him lean any closer to the baby predator on the Sands. Er. Baby dragon. Right.
Amongst the shadows, suddenly the darkness is light - or at least lighter - as Bridge Between Realms Egg hatches, leaving the occupant behind on the sands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< A Leaf on the Wind Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even in the dim light, there is a certain lightness in the area that betrays where this hatchling is, though still leaving much to the imagination. While the curves of head and neck are defined, as well as wings, there simply is not enough light to determine what colors may cling to the hide that makes up said curve and shapes.
"You think they could've gotten the lights back on in a sevenday…" Kaitlyn murmurs around a deep sigh, the tall woman squinting out beyond them in the inadequate glowlight…and then the cracking and movement of shadows and baby dragons begins — it's own kind of eternal dance — and the Harper jerks backwards one step to Cinn's single forward one. Huh? "Knives?" is whispered intently to Brungin, as an aside.
Always Straight Ahead Egg gives a shudder, the tightly packed sand around its base giving way enough that it develops a rather dramatic list to one side.
The shush-shush of feet in the sand seems overloud to Cinnitha's ears. No time for talking now, as she glide steps through the hot sand heating her toes over the top of her sandals. "Shhh, no one can see, Xhaev."
"I can't even tell where I am much less anything else…and there we go." Brungin leans forward slightly in the dark, eyes going as wide as possible as the first of the hatchlings arrives. "I've seen this a few times before but I keep forgetting how big they are…."
Shade and Light Hatchling bounds forward, heedless of the dangers the darkness might hold for it. There is no containing this enthusiasm, no slowing of mind or body even if it means a tumble into the sand or two. Or three! Down it goes, tumbling head over tail, gawky body catching little bits of moonlight and throwing it across gangling limbs and wide, wet wings. Undaunted, the little hatchling launches itself forward and promptly careens headlong into… Brungin?! Down they go, wings and tail and talons smashing against the candidates back undoubtedly drawing a fair amount of blood, though its quite hard to tell just how much in the dark. But the hatchling rolls right along, leaving the Smith-candidate behind to finally settle at the feet of a girl from Keroon. "Of course you didn't, Koroth! You'd never intentionally hurt anyone…"
Golden eyes are cast out through the gloom towards Jazhira and L'kan, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth for the snippets of conversation he can make out, but not nearly as deep as he hears talk of knives. His chin lifts and dark lashes lower, despite the unlikelihood that it can be made out through the shadows in which he stands. "None of ya better be armed out there," he hisses, probably wishing now he'd thunk to frisk them all before they'd headed out.
With a triumphant cry the Shade And Light Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Seeker of Mischief Blue Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Small in stature and slim in build, there dragon exudes a sense of agility rather than strength. Foggy-blue from pointed nose to long, forked-tail, there is little deviation in his color. There's nothing brawny about him. Rather he is toned and wiry, long and skinny rather than bulky or strong. A saucy slant to his maw, a bit of mischief gleaming in those whirling facets, and with the sort of lean frame that allows for slipping out of tight places, this blue is made for mischief.
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
A Leaf on the Wind Hatchling lays there in the sands for a moment as its large eyes whirl in confusion. It's head moves slightly, glancing down at each of its limbs in turn with curiosity. A single forepaw is moved and the creature seems to startle itself. There's a long pause before that same limb is moved once more and this time the reaction earns a quiet croon from the creature. Of course…the sound only makes it startle /yet/ again. The bewilderment lasts only seconds before the caverns suddenly fills with incessant warbling from the young dragon…almost as if it were singing!
"Move your eyes back and forth, easier to see that way. By the Egg, someone has been…" Cinnitha can't finish the sentence. The moonlight glimmers on their white robes making the other candidates appear ghostlike.
Xhaevyr looks away for ONE SECOND and things happen. Obviously by that he means that he skitters sideways from Brungin when the hatchling just BOWLS him over, eyes wide in the moonlight. "Fucking hell!" he shouts, tripping over his own feet. Is he about to knock into Roriandor? Probably. Catch him Rori~ Do a fellow a solid~
Always Straight Ahead Egg almost seems to be moving back upright again, but another shudder causes it to topple completely onto its side with a loud cracking noise.
A Well-Woven Tale Egg shifts - or.. Does it? With the woven strands and the pale light, it is hard to distinguish exactly what happened - and just as quickly it is back to still once more, if it was ever moving.
Brungin lets out a groan as the hatchling bowls over him on the way to its life mate. The short dwarf is knocked back onto the sands for a moment and winces. He can feel something liquid, and metallic, dripping down his back, but he gets back up in the end. Only light will tell how bad it is.
Jazhira has no mind for frowns - even if she could see them. Which she can't, so nyah to you, J'en. "At least this time we're safely here, instead of out there." Her eyes strain as she seeks out the hatchlings and Candidates, searching for white robes. She tenses as the first hatchling approaches her friend, fingers crossed - then cries out, not in pleasure, but in shock. "Brungin!" Reaching out, she clutches at Reya's arm.
Reya frowns for once, that gleeful mischief disappearing now once it's apparent one of them have been injured. She sucks in a breathe through her teeth, hands moving rest on Jaz's. "This…dammit all." Fuerioth lets out a low grumble, but she holds herself in place, steadfastly watching as the first pair is led off the sands. "We'll have to call the healers, have them ready for the end of this."
Roriandor shuffles a bit over, to keep from getting bumped into by other candidates. Brungin is too far away to catch but he winces in solidarity with the fall. He will get there in time to scoop up under the man's arm and bodily lift him up into the air, give him space to find his feet again. "Brungin, on your feet."
There is a cascade of snaps, cracks, singing and was that a cry of pain? The healer candidate finds herself turning to that cry without thought. Brungin's voice! She turns in the dark, stumbles a step and sets out for him, trusting in her instincts.
Always Straight Ahead Egg can take the onslaught no longer. The shell disintegrates, blown away like a mirage, revealing the ghostly outline of a dragon briefly on the sands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Mere Analogy of a Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Where once was an egg now stands a faint image of a dragon. Just a hint of dragon-ness, the briefest flash of silvered talons, a suggestion of an elegant form wreathed in its own darkness as well as that on the sands. It takes mere seconds before it fades completely into that shadows and becomes a mere memory. A hint. A suggestion of things to come.
A Leaf on the Wind Hatchling continues its song as it finally begins to move from its spot. Its first steps are tentative, but soon the little hatchling is moving forward with ease. Its thin tail bobs in the air behind it, moving along with the tune its gracing everyone's ears with. For such a small thing it's /very/ loud and perhaps even grating to /some/ ears. Others may find it quite lovely. Perhaps its waiting to see how the candidates react to its song, because as it moves closer to the line of white robes the louder it gets. Where are all the candidates going? It will follow.
Muscles taut, there wasn't much that could keep J'en's eyes off the candidates now, not with people nearly getting bowled over and tripping over themselves. Arms are t his sides, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in preparation. What was he going to do? Something, probably. He takes a single step forward, but stops as someone grabs his arm and keeps him from going out there. Of course there's a growl, retraction from that grasp, and some harsh words exchanged. In the end, J'en remains on the edge of the sands, but he doesn't look happy about it.
Mere Analogy of a Hatchling eases through the shadows, the faint thuddity-thud of dragon feet on the sands the only real clue that it's moving any closer at all. What shadows it casts show an odd, high-stepped walk, legs lengthened to almost ridiculous proportions as it steals through the night. Almost without warning it darts forwards, wrapping a wing around a skinny fishercraft boy by the name of Corin, the movement more a kidnapping than a bonding as it tries to hurry him off the sands before anyone notices. Clearly the tale of C'or and Breehyth will be an interesting one.
With a triumphant cry the Mere Analogy of a Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Beyond the Pride Brown Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deepest maroon dapples the sienna base coat on this sleek, yet oddly equine, brown dragon. Elegant limbs of glossy black provide solid support to a slender torso, lean joints, and a set of stubby silver talons. The faintest hint of rose appears over sable haunches and tail, lightening his hide to a slightly more typical tint, while ebon wingsails melt into powerful shoulders, the spars freckled with just a hint of charcoal. Beyond a long chestnut neck and brow his forehead darkens to midnight, elegant perfection split by a star-splash of cream, faintly outlined in burgundy.
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
A Well-Woven Tale Egg suddenly jolts, something unseen affecting the stability of the scene, before a giant cracks suddenly appears on one side - the darkness visible against the rich hues, tearing the tapestry asunder.
"Not as big as their parents, that's for sure…" Kaitlyn murmurs to CInnitha, then squeaks as a blue 'baby' looms out of the darkness and Impresses some lucky individual among their white-robed group. Grin! then the boys get 'trippy,' and the flamehead chortles again, noting to Rori and Xhaevyr, "Case of the nerves?" *SHE* doesn't have those, though. Nope… Just ignore the incessant finger tapping of her thigh. And then Brungin's being accidentally mauled! "JAYS!" is barked out. "Get up!" Cinnitha's natural urge to heal the injured is followed by a hissed, "Be *careful!*" Singing dragonets? No imporatant, at the second. A blue, now a brown Impress in the confusion.
"How bad is it?" Xhaevyr, from the Sands: he shoves back to his feet in a taut line of motion, concerned not for the explosions of eggshells but for the mauled Smithcrafter. "Brungin, do you — Cinni, can you see how bad it is?" He moves to brace Roriandor's assistance on the other side, tilting his head back to vainly try to grasp how bad any potential injury is.
"I'm fine…I'm fine." Brungin's voice is a low growl, but there are thankful looks shot towards his fellow candidates and even a bit of a smile as they help him. "It's fine, just…keep an eye out. There are more coming." The smith bites his lip and glances back at the moving shadows. "Shards, I need a drink…"
Singing, singing fills her ears while she searches for Brungin in the dark. Two of the hatchlings now have found their lifemates. Cinnitha finds him and kneels putting a hand to his back, "Brungin. Hold still!" She pulls a hand away wet with warm viscous liquid. "He got you good, but you will live with a few stitches, my friend."
A Well-Woven Tale Egg has reached the end of its story, though in the darkness, exactly what that end is is left open to debate. However, where there once was a shell there is.. Something else. And that something is moving.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Behind the Hovel's Door Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Certainly, there is some shape to this shadow - and more than just shape, there is a certain bulk as well. However, darkness seems to cloak the details,showing little other than a rounded curve that may be a muzzle, and a large surface which catches the light rather differently - a wing sail perhaps? The faceted eyes, however, seem to catch the most light, at least giving a fair idea of where the shadow's true size - and the direction of it's gaze.
A Leaf on the Wind Hatchling begins to wind between the candidates now, swift like a breeze. One moment its nudging at a young boy and the next its moved away. Like a whisp, the hatchling seems ever present but just out of reach. Its eyes swirl with amusement, watching each candidate react to both it and it's song. As time goes on the melody becomes increasingly pleasant. Its high pitched warbling softens to a pleasant melody as its movements suddenly become more deliberate. This one. Its pause plant heavily in the sands, gone for the moment are those fleeting footsteps. /This/ one. Its neck cranes upwards, its face suddenly becoming bathed in moonlight as the hatchling finds its other half: a slender girl with thick auburn hair.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Leaf on the Wind Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Climbing the Skies Green Hatchling ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is as if the very essence of a spring breeze has been captured and molded, twisted and folded, until this delicate, spritely green was created. Pale mint dances around her nimble form, clinging to the gentle curve of her lean torso and swirling around each slender limb, like gauzy fabric shaped by the wind to her frame. Persian green pools upon the smooth hide of her belly, drifting lazily down the underside of her tail, and upwards to tickle her throat and chin, while a streak of of shamrock mimics the pattern upon her back. The shamrock hues begin with freckles upon her nose that increase in incidence as they near faceted eyes, before becoming the dominant hue that twirls around each slight headknob and meager ridge upon the center of her back. Translucent emerald sails stretch between the pale mint spars that support her oversized, powerful wings, while the same jewel tones appear upon her long, thin tail.
Lured By Illusion Egg doesn't actually wobble, but it does seem to move…in fact, it almost seems to be standing straighter.
Xhaevyr clears the space when Brungin's attitude makes it clear he's not about to bleed out in the moonlight. Only then does he lift his eyes and — "Cinni?" he half-asks, squinting at the head of auburn hair he can faintly see in the moonlight.
"He'll be fine." Roriandor quips after Brungin's needs and wants for drinks. He'll wait long enough for the man to regain his feet before stepping off to find space once more. Ya'know. To dodge hatchlings that can't see them very well.
Behind the Hovel's Door Hatchling is on the move! Or, it will be soon! First there is the matter of getting wings, and tail and those four feet in order. There's no patience for carefully crafted motions, so it is likely that stumbling will ensue. More shadow that dragon at this point, it's the shift of darker-black over less-dark-black that betrays its movements. Movements that have it heading on a rather swift and not particularly straight-forward path.
"Don't just /stick/ to each other…" Reya mumbles quietly under her breath, eyes flitting from one hatchling to the next as more start to find their life mates. Her brows are furrowed as she looks over each, "There are…too many. Or is it my eyes?" There's a glance to the side where several healers are now standing next to J'en, waiting for this to be over so that they too can move to treat the wounded.
Movement and sound is whirling about Cinnitha as she holds Brungin. Then she is standing, chills moving from the soles of her hot feet to her scalp as a voice calls her. "Yes? Yes! YES!" she answers aloud and in her mind. The sound of a heart cracking open is silent, the sound of light is the voice calling to her. Across the sand she stumbles to find Ysleth. "Ysleth, my heart! Hungry are you?" She kneels and gently wraps her arms around her neck, "Food, very very soon. Promise!"
It's those whirling eyes that catch her sight, the now-truly worried Kaitlyn, the Harper naturally moving closer to the little group with injured Brungin so she isn't alone out here. Safety in numbers, maybe? Hah! "Oh, good grief…" is murmured in some sympathy for Brungin's blood, the woman's fingers now tapping like a drum roll. And then there's lots of motion and that song's way too near…and the Harper squeaks once again as a green seems to just appear out of the shadows neaby. "Cinn?" Oh! "Oh, Cinnitha! SHe's lovely! Congratulations!" Smiiiile!
If there are a bunch of renegades in here with the candidates, Xhaevyr is going to formally submit a claim, REYA. Maybe they're the reason he has a mesh shirt in his trunk. "Oh. That… that is Cinni." Just in case someone was wondering. His smile is silent, but warm enough. Not an inch of smirking.
J'en appears more at ease once Brungin was on his feet and appears to be okay, breathing out an uneven breath that no one hopefully can detect. He's bound and determined to keep his attention on all the activity, scanning through the streams of moonlight and deep shadow. Distraction comes not with the healers surrounding him but rather with Impression and its finally time to step forward onto the sands himself, leading Cinnitha and her new lifemate off the sands, "All right, let's get Ysleth something to eat, ya?"
Lured By Illusion Egg shakes slightly, a low creaking coming from within as pieces of egg shell begin to fall to the sands.
Brungin grins despite whatever near-maiming has happened. There's a whoop for the newly Impressed candidate. "That's great Cinni, that's amazing!" But he can't keep his attention on her very long. There's another hatchling on the sands and the dwarf-smith is /wary/.
Behind the Hovel's Door Hatchling has managed to stumble its way through the dark and not crash into siblings or unhatched eggs. But it's also not found any of those white-robed candidates that it knows it should be searching out. That's the *proper* thing to do. But then again, this particular shadow-among-shadows is not very interested in doing the *proper* thing at all. It would much rather snuffle along and investigate the remains of another hatchling's egg, first.
Lured By Illusion Egg explodes all at once, the shell disappearing within a matter of milliseconds leaving a dragonet where its prison once stood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Upon the Woodland Throne Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A large, but slender figure emerges from the rubble of this egg. Within moments it's wings flare out, neck arching to look at the many offerings that stand before. Bits of egg cling to it in the darkness, giving the dragonet's hide a mottled appearance. Large paws sink into the sands, but not before moonlight glints off its quickly disappearing claws.
In the absence of light, Tumultuous Colors Egg is just a shadow among shadows, the brilliance of its shell reduced to tones of grey. Woefully, it shivers in the dark for the loss of its vibrancy.
There's hardly room for propriety in the current situation, but Xhaevyr still gawks briefly at the sight of a hatchling sniffing around at the ruins of another shell. "Oh, there's another one," he says, in case anyone needed a verbal reminder that another is out: his eyes land with almost mistrust upon Upon the Woodland Throne before he's trying to track Behind the Hovel's Door again. Too many things going on. His eyes stray back to where Cinni lead her new lifemate off the sands.
Once Cinnitha and Ysleth are settled, J'en returns, back to standing on the edge of the sands and prepared to see to the next round of newly Impressed weyrlings. S'van had been right when he'd teased him about the name of the weyrling wing, concentrating on that thought and it's truth just in this moment, even as he keeps his gaze ever moving across the dimmly illuminated cavern.
Upon the Woodland Throne Hatchling intends to take its sweet time. After all, the crowd is waiting for it, not the other way around. Its neck arches slightly as swirling blue eyes glances over the candidates. A quiet chuff escapes its maw, a scoff at the offerings that have been presented. Slow, deliberate steps take the dragonet towards the line of white robed humans. It begins to walk down the line, wings spread to show of their full glory. A long slender tail brushes across the leg of a young female candidate before moving to curl loosely around the wrist of a pale-blonde man. This one. A deep croon escapes its lips and soon the chosen candidate finds his words. "Simari…Simarilleth? Of course I'll be your V'alen."
With a triumphant cry the Upon the Woodland Throne Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< King of the Hidden Realm Bronze Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A sheen emanates from this dragon's hide with each slight movement and every speck of light that hits his frame. Despite his large size, there is an inherent grace to this large bronze. His slender tail is almost twice as long as his body and his wingspan almost equal to that. His long neck arches as dark umber vines crawl up the side of his neck. They coat his headknobs, both of which seem to fan out rather than taper at the top, creating multiple small spines. The rest of his body is covered in the palest of bronzes, their shades similar to that of the morning sunrise. A silver-green occasionally pulses through his hide in the forms of swirling whisps, adding depth and dimension to this proud creature.
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
There is another one, and Roriandor moves just a bit more to make room now. The minimal light might reflect from his broad grin as Cinnitha manages to impress and gets lead away. "Oh. That one looks /big/." Where was Xhaevyr now? Over there, still with Brungin.
Eventually, Behind the Hovel's Door Hatchling moves the investigation away from egg shards and much more appropriately toward the candidates on the sands. Because it *wants* to, okay? This was totally it's idea in the first place. Find a partner. Go on adventures. Discover things together… this is sounding like a fantastic plan. And with this in mind, that shadowy-shadow comes closer and closer to a particular knot of white-robed figures until, with a huff, plants its behind in the dirt and turns a bright-eyed face up into the human of its choosing.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Behind the Hovel's Door Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Explore the Enchanted Forest Brown Hatchling ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even from the beginning, the rough and unpolished nature of this brown's hide seems to create a false sense of age, as weathered hues gather upon his large, well-built form. Sepia dominates his body, present from head to tail, wingtip to talon, visible from each and every angle. And yet, despite this, he is anything but a solid hue. The slightest hints of burnt umber appear along the edges of his nostrils, the corners of his mouth, and here and there along the ridges that frame his faceted eyes, as if endless winds have begun to rub away the darker outer layer. A similar occurrence has also revealed tinges of tawny red-brown along his head knobs, and the uneven, rugged ridges that march with purpose down the center of his back, the brighter bits most prominent along the edges. Oversized wings are marked with dark chestnut spars, the rich hue stretching from leading to trailing edge, supporting the semi-translucent sails that stretch between, where the slightest flakes of gold, sapphire, and ruby appear in the right light, bright against the drab background. His joints - whether they are on his wings or his long, well-muscled limbs, are almost burnished, showing worn spots of blue-brown umber along their rough edges, a color that in turn highlights the curves of his talons, and the end of his thick tail.
Tumultuous Colors Egg shudders in rebellion for the darkness that cloaks it, the movements becoming more violent the longer it sits in the dark. A loud cracking sound suddenly rings out across the sands as the hatchling within struggles for freedom, forcing its way out.
Amidst the din of hatching, the grind of stone on stone echoes loudly across the Sands as the Unbroken Bastion Egg rocks in its sandy cradle, dust sifting across its shell in the pale moonlight.
Reya has no idea who is on the sands Xhae, not /her/ responsibility. Or maybe it is. In either case she's relaxing just a little bit and glancing over towards Jaz and L'kan. "Well…no one's dead yet?" Hopefully it will stay that way. Fuerioth is pleased at the moment, despite the events of the sands. She lets out a warble as another pair find each other. She sucks in a breathe as suddenly the sands are empty of unpaired hatchlings. It seems like a slight pause…for DRAMATIC EFFECT.
… It's totally Reya's responsibility.
"I got a bad feeling about this." - Xhaevyr.
Brungin is quickly shifting his gaze between the hatchlings that are quickly disappearing and he freezes in place at the sudden quiet. "This can't be good…" His gruff voice remains low, tension in his limbs as he strains his eyes.
WHat the snot are those wandering, potentially dangerous dragon babies *doing* out there?! Kaitlyn's deeply concerned eyes are roving the Sands once again, the Harper not wanting to get mugged like Brungin did, the woman quite concerned for her own hide. She's standing one pace behind the other canidates, perhaps using them as an unconscious shiled, of sorts…and then a flurry of action happens close — shadows and motion and not enough light! — and she backpeddling some, then noting in a strained alto, "You always have a bad feeling about this, Xhaevyr."
A final push, and Tumultuous Colors Egg bursts into oblivion, bits of shell raining down upon the sand to cling stubbornly to the hatchling that it has suddenly spilled out onto the dark and shadowy sands.
"You say that to me as if it's not a perfectly acceptable life trait to be naturally suspicious of giant, dramatic pauses," Xhaevyr snipes back at Kaitlyn, falling easily enough in to stand next to the lithe Harper.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Chaos in Motion Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bits of shell cling to the still-wet hide of this new hatchling, a riot of colors that have been reduced to shades of grey in the limited lighting. A glint of purple, then blue, then red as movement allows bits of the baby dragon to be seen. Or, rather, bits of the shell clinging to the baby dragon. It is hard to discern the creature's true shape however, the jagged edges of shell blending with the smoother edges of hide until the entire thing is confusing and chaotic at best.
The two croon to one another. Yseth rumbling about her hunger, eyes whirling as she butts Cinni. "Cinni? Is it, Ysleth?" The retort is quick, "Oh, of course! The other name is too much." Smiling through her tears she watches Rori meet a shadow in the darkness. "I am so glad for him," she tells her.
Granite chips and crumbles, cloth ripples and shreds, cracks tracing the mortar between stones as the Unbroken Bastion Egg shifts in its nest, under siege from within.
Ysleth grows ears and can now hear.
"That one looks like trouble, too." Xhaevyr's taking a big break from smirking to suspicion. What? He's been spending too much time around J'en. Don't judge him.
Elenth shuffles slightly to one side, no longer content to simply sit and watch things happening before him. As is his habit he looms slightly over L'kan, but his posture is very much alert. L'kan, on the other hand, seems relaxed - almost terminally so. "And quick. It's almost as if you're trying to drop me a very large hint that it's time to go home." At least there's a laugh that accompanies the tease, the darkness mostly shielding the massive smile that goes with it.
Roriandor was only looking away just a second, a few moments before something sprays sand towards his feet. To sit and stare up at him. "Moreth." Because of course R'and knows the dragon's name already. Its awhile before that young man's mouth shut once more. "Eggs, yes. We can eat. Lets do that now." R'and looks, searchs for whoever is supposed to lead them and starts to trundle off with them away from the sands.
Were the healers still gnawing at the bit on the sidelines? They could be, but right now J'en had other things to think about. Not about his weyrmate though, that wisp of memory lost for now in face of Impressions and hatching eggs. Regardless, J'en propels himself forward as another pairing is made, this time towards Roriandor, now called R'and. "This way, Moreth's gutta be 'ungry, so lets do somethin' 'bout that." And he leads the brownpair off the sands.
"Wait, did Rori just Impress?" Xhaevyr addendum to Kaitlyn, because in a total flip of characterizations he's the one chatting her ear off. Nerves. All the nerves.
Chaos in Motion Hatchling does not like the bits of shell clinging to its hide. It's pokey, and pinchy, and not at all comfortable for walking. Given that walking is a brand new activity only recently taken up, and perhaps it will be forgiven for the sounds of distress and upset that spill forth from that walking art-project. But despite the discomfort of jagged shells and the inherent difficulties with sorting out all those various limbs (what even ARE wings right now?!), progress is made and the sands are crossed! Frustration turns to elation as the hatchling moves unerringly from a weyrbred girl in white. "Onderath?" comes in speculation before, "Onderath!" rings out with joy, the young Elyce quick to break from the ranks and rush to her new lifemate's side.
With a triumphant cry the Chaos in Motion Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Inquisitive Traveler Blue Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blocky and blue is the best description for this hatchling. While not necessarily big, there is a hefty weight to his hatchling already, and the sort of big bones and broad chest that suggests he's only going to get heftier. His muzzle is short and blunt, forehead broad with large eyes and squat headknobs. His neck is thick, his chest deep and his wings wide and sweeping. Ocean blue lays over it all, frothy-white along the crest of each ridge, and depthless-dark down all four paws.
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
The Unbroken Bastion Egg shatters from the assault within, stone-hued shards flying sharply outwards in a glittering explosion, leaving behind a find mist of dust to obscure the massive form of its previous occupant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Shadow of the Mountain Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Massive, mountainous, without curve or arc to soften the blocky bulk, this hatchling hulks in the moonlight, awash in monochrome silver. Wing or limb, tail or muzzle, each piece is shrouded in shadow, indistinct from the next and making it difficult to gauge the true dimensions of the beast. With each movement, light glints and refracts, briefly defining a joint here, a spar there, before splintering into nothingness once more. Only whirling eyes remain steadily visible, the beat of red-orange hunger pulsing in that searching gaze.
"Oh, no doubt it is…" Kaitlyn smirks back nervously to Xhaevyr, the normally arrogant woman now welcoming any kind of 'support' out here on these 'dangerous' sands. Grey eyes flick out there to the supposed 'dangerous' shadow of a dragonet, and then she's jerking backwards as a bronzeling looms out of the shadows, and picks… "Roriandor!" Blink-blink-smile! "Congratulations!" And beyond them, yet *more* Impressions take place. Gulp! Must remain alert!
"Ror—no, R'and?" Brungin grins as the brown is revealed and finds his mate. Only…there are still /more/. "I feel like it's never-ending, there can't be many more, right?" The smith craft shifts from one foot to another, wincing with each movement as blood stain the back of his robe.
"I take it back, that one looks like much more trouble," Xhaevyr reports of Shadow of the Mountain, shifting to crowd Kaitlyn's personal space a little. Listen. When in doubt, the two super smug ones can band together and just pick out the flaws of everyone else, right? That's how this works doesn't it? Wait, this isn't a re-do of Mean Girls? Whatever, we still wear pink on Wednesday. His voice drops. "Want to get a drink after this?" It's getting close to the end. Maybe they'll both make it out without getting mauled!
Shadow of the Mountain Hatchling sits hesitantly amongst the shards of its former home, nosing at them with an inquiring croon, as if not quite certain just what has happened. A moment passes, and two, and inevitability calls out with its siren song, luring the hatchling from its contemplation of the silvery shards. Heavy head turns, whirling eyes glinting in the dark as it brings its hot gaze to bear on a clump of nearby Candidates. You. Did you do this?
The healers /are/ still milling about the sidelines, each one exchanging frowns with the other as they keep an eye on the candidates. There's also a small selection of dragonhealers appearing…just in case.
On the Eve of Rebellion Egg trembles slightly, nothing more nothing less. The movement lasts only a brief second before it becomes absolutely still once more.
Annnnnnd J'en is back, quickly trying to make out how many candidates and hatchlings remain among smatterings of broken eggshell. Was there even any eggs left that weren't hatched? It's difficult to tell, but he didn't want to spend too much time wondering about it. Those there were itchy feet, trying to keep himself from bouncing from one to the other in anticipation, but at least things appeared to be winding down and no one else had been run over. Yet.
Xhaevyr keeps a weather-eye out on the loom of Shadow of the Mountain, mostly because that one looks like it may just like to get another strike out there. "Is Brungin still out here?" He might need a human wall. Like the one Xhae and Kaitlyn are conveniently behind.
There are eggs - Szetamirath's eggs. Do those count? There are also candidates. Like. A lot of candidates. Hrm.
It should now be clear to most everyone on the sands, the Juniors, Bronzers, and J'en that there /are/ more candidates than there should be. And it's certainly unsettling. To be honest, the three or four that are extras look a bit terrified now. Reya leans forward as the dwindling number of eggs and candidates make the difference even more apparent. But despite it, there's a pleased grin on her face. "Look…there he goes." Her gaze slides to L'kan however and there's a slight smirk for the man. "Of course not, I'd be more than happy to lock you up here." It's accompanied by a wink. At least she's slightly distracted from her worries.
"Drinks sound delightful…" nervous Kaitlyn notes tightly to equally as smarmy Xhaevyr, her fingers now twisting within one another on and off. Wound tight a little? Never! Those new hatchling eyes glaring somehow accusingly out beyond them have her squeaking a little in uncharacteristic voice, "Oh JAYS…" Groan-eek!
On the Eve of Rebellion Egg shudders once more, pieces of egg falling into itself as if getting to implode on the sands.
Shadow of the Mountain Hatchling thrusts its nose into the face of one Candidate, hot breath sweet as it exhales through sharp, glittering teeth. What it seeks, it does not find, and it moves on down the line, its ponderous footsteps echoing across the sands as it waddles along with deliberation. Not you. Not you. Definitely not you. Snorting contemptuously at a young girl, it turns away, maw gaping as it roars its frustration as it fails to find that which it seeks so desperately.
Xhaevyr briefly rubs his hands against his robe-clad legs. "Don't they though? Don't ruin your fingers," he absently comments to Kaitlyn with her finger-wringing. "I think that one's looking for you," he does manage to tease, however, a more characteristic smirk limning his face as he jaunts that expression over toward the Harper-candidate. Whatever drama's happening with the other clutch and extra candidates is beyond his grasp, thankfully, else he'd have something ELSE to worry about.
Brungin swallows as the latest hulk of a hatchling makes his way through the candidates. There's a glance over towards Kaitlyn and Xhae, the two of them earning a bit of a grin. "Count me in on that part…." Suspicious eyes turn to the last egg now, but it doesn't keep his attention for too terribly long.
On the Eve of Rebellion Egg finally disintegrates, though it seems to take an agonizingly long time. Finally the pieces of shell disappear leaving the small dragonet on the sands.
Led away from the center of the shadowed turmoil on the sand, Cinni has no time or space in her thinking for more than Ysleth until the roar makes the two of them go still. A huge shadow for a newly hatched dragon moves on the sand,<Surely, that is a bronze> she tells the little green. <Soooo big.>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Child of Ash Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sand clings to the frame of this slight dragonet, coating it near evenly from head to toe. It almost seems to absorbs the shadows that fall across it. In all of that darkness comes two small glints, eyes that spark just barely as they take in the world around it. Rather than wonder there is suspicion held there and soon sparks of red begin to appear.
Roar? It must sound rather odd coming from a babe of a dragonet, but still it's enough to send Kait jumping about a foot into the hot air of the darkened Sands, the woman barking out, "*JAYS*!" once again in a mix of fear and accusation. "Oh *SHELLS, no*!" is snarked out to Xhaevyr at his words of a babe looking for her, Brungin's words of joinging them for drinking earning him a quick and suspicious sidelong glance before she's thinly grinning, and giving the short Smith a tight nod. And then more dragonet motion captures her attention once again. Must preserve own hide!
"And you wait til now to tell me that?" L'kan grins right back at Reya, "For shame, waiting til now to flirt. I'm not sure my heart can take it, you know I'll need to leave at some point." If he laid it on any thicker he'd need a trowel, or planning permission. While he may be distracted and not counting, Elenth most definitely is. And he's not best pleased. The noise he makes is something more than a growl but still low enough that it doesn't carry too far - for all his annoyance he clearly doesn't want to upset the hatchlings before they're paired.
Yeah, okay, roaring hatchlings have a way of garnering one's attention. Jae's golden hued eyes dart that direction, watching the source of that sound as best he can, getting only vague hints of form and flashes of unspecified limbs. A single glance is given the ceiling, perhaps wondering why it was that there wasn't more light available just then, but then he's dropping it back down again to survey the sands. Squinting, he assesses movement, and the hatching of the final egg. At least, it seems to be the final egg. Man it was hard to see.
Shadow of the Mountain Hatchling turns abruptly, its tail lashing out and slapping against the chest of a nearby Candidate, sending the shapeless white bundle hurdling to the ground with a thud and ominous crunch. Something - someone - has caught its attention, and no longer are its movements quite so ponderous, quite so deliberate. With startling speed belied by its mountainous bulk, the hatchling darts towards an ever-shrinking group of white-robed Candidates, barely skidding to a stop before it slams down upon one particularly striking specimen. Red-orange eyes meet pale green, and maw gapes again in triumphant roar as Impression is made.
With a triumphant cry it seems that the Shadow of the Mountain Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shield of Steel and Fury Bronze Hatchling ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gold-glazed bronze, awash with translucent azure highlights, has been painstakingly forged and reforged time and again, until from the flames has emerged a massive paragon of draconic form. Blocks and angles unite with nary a curve to be seen, a suggested stolid solidness belied by the bellicose glint in eyes that whirl beneath heavy-set brow. Forge-soot stains the ridges which march with martial precision from crown to the tip of his broad, blunt tail, darkening the warm amber with a dusting of ebony. A jagged streak of blue interrupts the burnished plating, creasing above and below the whirling left eye and across the broad cheek to create chink, a fault, a point of exploitation in his otherwise immaculate shield. Aureate armor encases brawny bulk, polished to steel-blue along the joints, the cool hue accenting his richly burnished complexion, glinting as to highlight the deliberation behind each precisely timed movement. Thick, meaty limbs never taper, only end abruptly in broad feet, the oversized argent talons tipping his paws with finely-honed blades. Only his wings flow and curve, broad and long and impossibly agile for one so colossal, the rich golden hues of his body darkening to brass along the long, thin spars, tattered sails brindled in shades of copper and rust and cream, striated with jolting slashes of electrified cobalt, staining his wings like lifelong scars.
Reya smirks slightly in L'kan's direction, "Well the night is…not that young anymore. But I'm sure you can manage another night of /convincing/." Her attention immediately darts back to the sands however as a roar rings out in the caverns. Her eyes squint, trying to find which of the many left have found a pair. Fuerioth seems to share much of Elenth's emotion at the moment. Her wings rustle, eyes sparking with a hint of red that mirrors the final hatchling, but she keeps herself at bay. Not yet.
Xhaevyr could give L'kan some tips — just get a mesh shirt, buddy! Or … or … wait, did someone … what … the journeyman-candidate lifts his hands in feeble defense, too-slow for the sudden speed of the bronze that's suddenly looming into his space. He just stares down at the eyes staring up for a long moment, a full eternity in a single moment. "Did you just say you need ten fat herdbeasts, Zaeldhiyth? Do you know how much that is?" Xhaevyr — no, Xh'vyr — replies, finally lifting his hands to brace his baby warrior-bronze's face. Then all the careful smugness, all the careless smirking, it all fades away as his laughter bubbles up unexpectedly, a gift, nearly childlike. He says it again for the people in the back. "His name is Zaeldhiyth!"
Across the Sands, Szetamirath and Ysgeiuth have picked up on the unease from the other clutch parents and quite deliberately stepped between their own eggs and the gathering of Candidates still clustered on the other end of the grounds. Under no such constraints as Fuerioth and Elenth, both bronze and gold show orange-flecked eyes, and, from her own place next to Reya, Jazhira tenses in discomfort.
Brungin cracks a large grin as his fellow smith finds a pair and the dwarf chuckles quietly. "Quite the loud one, rather showy…perfect for ya." There's another quiet beat as he looks over at the last remaining hatchling. It seems more dangerous than the others… "Shells, why'd I do this."
Child of Ash Hatchling stands in place several long moments, pressing its body down so that it nearly blends into the sands. Its red eyes glint as it takes in the crowds and soon a low hiss emerges. Soon attention shifts to the candidates and it begins to move forwards, one slow step at a time. Suddenly its gaze is caught by one robed candidate and the hatchling freezes in place. What comes next is very nearly a growl and it begins picking up speed as it moves towards the human. Claws reach out as it suddenly stumbles, the sharp talons making contact with the robe and ripping through to rake across the candidates legs. Even in the dark it's clear that blood has been spilled. The metallic scent fills the air, as does a cry of pain. But soon after those sounds comes a high pitched warble. Eyes meet with that of a terrified looking young man, a man that none of the other candidates will recognize, a man that certainly hasn't been part of the candidate class thus far but is quite clearly on the sands. And that's when Impression is made. The names of the new pair don't come from the new weyrling, but instead from two AWLM's that rush over. "Vinelsieth and….A'ti? This way." There's a heavy pause in the air before the two are finally led off the sands, but to a very different exit than the other pairs used. What glimpses can be seen of the AWLM's faces certainly look grim.
With a triumphant cry the Child of Ash Hatchling has found its lifemate at last and its color become clear.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~< Warrior of Mist Green Hatchling >~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There's certainly nothing larger than life about this dragon. It is diminutive to say the least, but agile as a result. Dark green covers this dragon's hide in an uneven pattern, like leaves in the forest at night they grace the top of her head. They trail down her back, enveloping each dorsal spine before dripping down her tail. Here, tiny sparks of color peek out amongst the shadows. The smallest hints of orange and yellow are found amongst the foliage, but when the creature shifts they seem to disappear from view. Her large eyes swirl constantly with red, as if to mask whatever emotions this dragon may be experiencing deep down.
After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.
It was that time again wasn't it? Sure was. As another Impression is made, J'en steps away from the side of the hatching cavern to collect Xhaevyr and his new lifemate, while giving a serious eyeballing to face he didn't recognize at all among those that remain. Who the fu… He had a job to do here, but that was downright unsettling. Still, diverting his attention away from those who honestly do not seem to belong, leasing the smith-candidate, turned weyrling, off the sands as he sucks in a breath, "This way for you and Zaeldhiyth, got meat barrels at the ready." A look is tossed towards Reya, and he jerks his head back towards the sands. Something was fishy.
"No drinks for him…" is almost peeped out in sudden shock as that behemoth of a baby bronze decides Xhaevyr is his proper match, Kaitlyn back away from the other white-robe quickly…and almost falling on her arse in the process. You saw it here, folks! The graceful woman was NOT graceful! Just get out of the way in case of muggings! "Uhm… congratulations to you both…" is called out to the pair as she places more room between herself and them. Bruging's left to his own devices as she winces as yet more sounds of pain and injury are heard beyond them.
A frown forms on Reya's face as the last Impression is made and her eyes narrow slightly at the new green, her whirling, and the AWLM's taking another exit. There's anger there. She seems almost to start in their direction, but stops herself at a quick mental word from Fuerioth. There's a deep breath as the Weyrwoman steps forwards, her voice raising to address the few left on the sands. "Thank you to all that have stood today, especially in the face of these…injuries." A short pause. "Unfortunately there are some of you that have not found your lifemates this time around, but that doesn't mean there isn't one waiting for you at some point during your future! For those still standing….if you'd please wait a moment for our staff to escort you off the sands. We've a few things to take care of." For a moment longer that grim expression lingers on Reya's face, but one deep breath later a smile is turned towards the sands. "As for the rest of you….food, drinks, and merry making will be available in the caverns. Please join us in celebrating the Weyr's newest additions!"
Brungin just…pauses. There's a small frown forming on his face as he looks around and it's impossible to hide the disappointment in his features. Perhaps it's the pain finally seeping through as the adrenaline disappears that leaves him vulnerable. He steels himself however as the healers rush forward as well as a few others. It seems that he'll be taken to the infirmary for now to be fully looked over. He won't be showing his emotions to others anymore tonight.