- Niagara Falla Hotel Deals -- Sanita Smith, 07:51:37 03/02/12 Fri
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among the best Niagara Falls hotels and motels and
that easily accessible from Toronto. We are close to
the attraction but far from the noise.
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- Memories -- M'klern(Creth), 23:40:59 07/24/05 Sun
M'klern was standing next to his dragon's left foreleg long after the Hatching was over, thinking. As the sun moved, so did Creth- he shaded his beloved rider no matter where the sun moved. ut it was getting pretty late, and shadows stretched long now.
~Are you done yet, M'klern?~ the dragon asked gently, unwilling to break the trance his rider had been on since- well, since the first egg broke, he guessed.
Wha-? Oh, yeah, I guess so. It's just-
~Yes?~
I just wish that there hadn't been that accident.
Creth knew without looking that his rider was looking at the scuffled sand, and the dried blood that marked the spot. He didn't even know the two girl involved, nor did he even know the healer, but M'klern still looked at that spot, not taking note of the queen's hatching, not looking at the beaming faces of the newly Impressed. Just looking at the spot that was marked by blood, from a dragon's claws, blood was spilt.
I'm thinking, if one dragon can do that muchdamage while their still young, then what would happen if that same dragon took an intense dislike to all other humans but her Impressed?
~Some dragons like a tough girl,~ Creth ventured carefully. M'klern had found something that he hadn't, and wasn't telling him.
But, suppose such a dragon could be removed from the Weyr. Suppose she and her rider got hospitality from a Hold. What would she be able to do to others, without a queen to correct her?
~M'klern, don't think that. And that one will soon grow out of her ferocity soon enough.~
Are you sure?
~Positive~
M'klern sighed, and turned towards his dragon at last, tearing his eyes from the spot where two young women could have died. He wrapped his arms around Creth's leg, and gripped it feircely, something inside of him finally letting loose. Tears trickled down his cheeks, dripping hot and salty onto the toughened hide of his great brown dragon's leg. Creth folded his wings down, shielding M'klern from eyes that might still be poking around.
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- 17, 18, 19, and 20. Ah, we get down to it! -- Primath, Quaroth, Zairith, Mezeth, Shrineth, and Wessae, 18:57:29 05/31/05 Tue
((Sorry, guys for the wait! Here, we'll get right back into it! If I mention candidates, I'm being indirect and they can be NPCs, so no one is offended.))
After a bit more of a lull, a tremendous movement comes upon the nest, a massive upheaval that makes Shrineth rise half onto her haunches in fresh startlement, for she had been slightly dozing. The candidates nearest the eggs had probably also been dozing, for a few are startled and jump back with the first cracks of the eggs. Again, it seems a quartet is most active, while the rest settle back to their previous quiet.
The first of them to emerge from her shell is a green, pushing her way imperiously free of the trappings of egghood. Tossing her glistening head to the sun, she leaps from the nest and embarks on her journey for the perfect lifemate, one worthy of her grace and truly inspiring presence. Casting a haughty, hunger tinged glance about the girls, she gives a slightly derisive sneeze. No, they were all too silly for her. Besides, they would detract from her stunning wonderful self! Spotting a boy with some sort of sword, she marches purposefully over and knocks him down without a thought.
L'nox, you are to dispense with that immediately,comes the imperious and very pleased command. For I, Primath am here, and you will no longer need it to protect yourself with.
As this bonding is going on, a larger egg splits to reveal a clean-limbed brown whose hide is so dark as to be nearly ebony, his eyes shining a hungry red in glowing contrast. With no production or undue sense of ceremony, the young one shakes himself free of excess egg slime and ambles out into the wider world of the hatching sands. Most of the boys had been chosen, or were waiting expectantly for any other color than his. Ah, well, it would just take a matter of moments to find...yes! There! Trundling to his new partner, the average sized brown looks down at the boy sitting, clearly nonplussed. U'maro, why are you on the ground? Stand up tall, so we may go and get food...Er, I'm Quaroth, by the way.
Almost obscured by Shrineth's huge haunch, one of the smallest eggs shivers, as though with cold or severe excitement. Just as the quaking egg seems about to take off the ground from its trembling, it bursts into a thousand tiny pieces to reveal a bright green dragon, still furled against herself. And then, the head rises from its tight curl against the forepaws, muzzle raising and sensing the air, jaws opening in a yawn to reveal a mouth still needing for teeth. Then the new eyes open, eyes that seem to take over the young one's entire head. Blinking against the harsh light, the green emits a squeal of disdain for it, tucking her head back in a moment. Slowly, though, she begins her investigations of the world, as the other hatchlings robustly emerge to find their riders, she takes her time. Step by cautious step she ventures onto the grounds, shrinking from some girls and stretching her neck to inquire of others. It's such a big task! She begins to tremble with the fatigue of the hot sands, stumbling with a shriek. But then her noise becomes a trill, high and joyous as she presses gratefully against the thing she had landed on, her human.
True! I am Zairith! Thank goodness I found you, it's a bit scary out here. Please, food?
Kicking free of a prison too long containing it, the fourth in the quartet does not emerge fully from his shell before beginning his quest. A vivid, breathtaking blue, he is still sporting a curvature of egg on his wingtip, as well as on his tail. It does not daunt him, however, and he lopes easily across the hot sand, kicking up sprays and dousing the dismayed unwary candidates as he parades about the collection of minds to choose from. A considering look whirls in his hued eyes, and it almost seems as though a playful grin flickers at his muzzle. With a flick of his large head, he charges his new lifemate, skidding to a stop before colliding with the boy of his choice.
G'ffin! I am Mezeth! Feeding would be a good idea.
Looking at the eggs left, Wessae shifts and eyes the large amount of Candidates still on the sand. It was always disappointing when people were left wanting, but the woman knew hope sprang eternal. Try telling that to a let down potential candidate, though. Shrineth regards her dwindling brood with some pride, talons still encasing the queen egg protectively.
"Is it shaking yet, Shrineth?" Wessae enquires of the largest egg, giving a nod to it. Shrineth merely regards her with a level aquamarine gaze before returning her attentions to her clutch. Wessae supposed getting a straight answer out of a dragon could be hard sometimes, but she was content to wait for the much anticipated hatching. However, waiting calmly was just beyond her reach!
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- Back from being MIA! -- Sanna, 11:30:29 06/21/05 Tue
She had watched each and every egg since her arrival hatch, the dragonets emerge, and the Candidates Impress. When nothing is left but slowly drying egg shards and prints littering the cooling sands, Sanna feels an emptiness take hold of her. She hadn't Impressed.
Face expressionless but grey eyes immensely sad, the young woman leaves the grounds.
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- Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen -- Shrineth ; Sioth, Tolgath, Oveth, Zeeth, 16:56:41 04/27/05 Wed
It's very hard to tell which egg hatches first, but most eyes turn instinctively to the one in the middle for the limbs flailing out of it are a distinctly dark shade of bronze. Finding his way from the shell is a dragonet that is fairly glowing with health and strength as he stretches from his long confinement. Not as big as the first bronze, and yet not as small as the second, this third fellow is the middle child, though that is the only thing median about him. His eyes whirl a pleased, good natured blue-teal as he leaps from the nest and meanders about the sands. Those who would watch might bite their lip in worry that he didn't know who he wanted right away, but it didn't seem to distress the hatchling! He looks from one male to the next, pausing at Dorat where he stands with Letimira before moving on congenially. The groups of boys were full of potential, and most were full of thoughts of him but nothing was right. However, before he can get too agitated, he blunders right into one young man, emitting a surprised squall as both go down in a tangle of legs, wings, and long dragon neck. Their minds tangle too, and suddenly the next thing the young man hears is,
C'nis! Feed me, I am your Sioth!
At the same time, mostly unnoticed in the glory of the hatching third bronze, an egg almost the same size bursts open. Shaking the dreck from his immense, burly body, the huge brown hatchling trundles out of the nest with an encouraging croon from his mother. He gives a quiet, muted noise in return, turning his dark, already thick neck to do so. He's going to be one of the bigger browns on Pern, and though no special shade of brown he manages to be eye catching all the same as he watches the bronze dragonet trail across the sands. But he had other plans. Taking great hopping leaps across the ground that leave deep divots and kick up hot spray-walls of sand, he arrives in front of Dorat and where the bronze passed the young man by, this brown pins him down and trumpets, immensely pleased with himself as his already gigantic head cranes to the sky before descending to touch Dorat's. The young voice in the new rider's mind is clear, forceful, and delighted.
I am Tolgath, D'rat! You are mine!
A smaller egg hatches at the same time, without much ceremony but with great efficiency. Tumbling from it is a blue that seems to ripple into a dark teal color, hide shining with the glory of new life. He's a well proportioned blue, ready to mature into a fast, Thread-flaming creature. Airing his wings makes him look a big larger than when they are tucked in, the thin membranes catching the sunlight and turning the ground beneath that same dark teal. With a toss of his slim head, the unusually coordinated dragonet strolls unhurriedly out of the nest, his wings splayed to give him added balance. Like the others before him, he finds that there are quite a few boys and men with much potential, but most minds are tuned to brown and bronze. For blue, the male mind seems only a little more aware than for green. And what a shame because he is truly an execptional member of his color. And speaking of color... The blue's wings enfold the younger dark-skinned man in a flap that matches the quick crispness of the mental link, and the eyes glow a bright, pleased green-blue with red hunger beginning to shadow their endless depths.
K'rat! Oveth!
The last of this batch to hatch,or maybe he's the first? The second? They're hatching at a blinding speed and the order is hard to determine, but this fellow's enthusiastic entrance into the world more than makes up for the uncertainty of his order of arrival. A large head which might indicate great size is followed by a thin neck and a somehow lanky frame. He's not as massive as the biggest, nor will he get as tall; but he's impressive all the same with unusually long claws and a somewhat golden tint to his wood-brown hide. Crouching at the edge of the nest, he launches himself an impressive distance away from his birth site and lands with his large eyes shut. Opening them, he meets the gaze of the most wonderful...the best...he fairly hums with the great one he has found, he's done a great job! He was the best on the sands, and he had discovered the best on the sands as well. Getting goo and sand grains all over the clean white robe, the brown presses his lanky self against Bomulf.
B'mulf, I have found you! I am clever, yes yes. I am Zeeth! We must go to the bowl for food right away.
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- Movin' out! -- Wessae~Shrineth, 22:10:37 06/16/05 Thu
((LG and Pup, I'ma move us all to the Rider Weyrs, y'all can continue the thread there. Forgive the PPing, it's only minor.))
I am hungry. Shrineth announces grumpily, rising and giving a loud roar as muscles too long held in one place tingle to life again. I will be at the Perches, for bathing. She adds as she rockets her great golden self into the sky, becoming little more than a speck before being lost to sight altogether. Sighing, Wessae turns to the small gathering still left on the sands.
"Get Sengaloth ready for flight, please, D'rai. If you could get the girl bandaged and bundled for a short trip adragonback, we'll move this little party to my weyr where it's calmer and cleaner. It's too sandy to do any good here." Wessae oversees the proceedings, before turning with a guilty smile to D'rai. "And I don't suppose you'd begrudge your Weyrwoman a ride to the Perches?" She asks with a laugh.
Soon Sengaloth is airborne, and the green takes her passengers to their respected locations.
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- Nothing greater, 24 -- Wessae~Shrineth, Xaloth, 21:05:29 06/01/05 Wed
Collecting herself after the hatching of Shrineth's golden daughter is an effort, what with all the other hatchings that had gotten her so emotional. The Weyrwoman sets her shoulders in an effort not to cry too much at this last hatching, and turns resolutely back to her tasks. With all the excitement, Wessae sends a silent message to Shrineth as she remains with Sahira, unwilling to leave the healer and the assistant in the crush of the people to come. Shrineth, ask T'bel to make the announcement of the feast, would you? Or ask Quil-
You forget! There is another! Shrineth's mind voice interrupts the woman's request, and Wessae blushes guiltily. She HAD forgotten, and turns once again without realizing she was doing it.
The last egg, as though it knows it has something to prove, begins to rock with twice the force of even a mighty earthquake. It's as though it knows of the reputation for duds and stillborns, afterthoughts of a queen's first clutch. But not this one, oh no! The strength with which the last dragon emerges into the chaotic world takes the queenrider's breath away. It almost erases the queen's momentous hatching, and the dragonet's pleased expression seems so aware of this fact. Everyone HAD to notice him now, silly queen be damned. As though to enforce his 'be aware of me!' personality, his thunderous voice bugles across the nest, demanding the recall of everyone present. He's got the voice of a bronze, it seems. His hide, however, is a complex tumult of blue. His haunches, which are in Shrineth's shadow, are cobalt, dark almost to voilet, yet his forequarters, compact and gorgeously smooth, are an arresting shade of azure that could put any fabric to shame. As he moves proudly into the sunlight, his hind end rallies to the same shade as is front end. It's as though shadow and darkness change his color to a whole new dimension, rather than just darkening it like in other dragons.
Everyone was leaving! No! Wait! Come back! With a dismayed bugle, he runs onto the sands, casting after the departing candidates with a rumble. Then his mind is completely arrested and the turn he does is spectacular. It is a female who has grabbed his notice, a female with her heart full of goodwill and assistance. Any dragon would be lucky to partner such a pure mind and heart, how the queen could miss her was beyond his limited understanding, but it was luck for him! She seemed busy, though, and he hesitates a moment before giving her a headbutt, some of the sand from her robes smattering his hide as an almost symbolic transfer of thought between the two.
Kuorisse, I am Xaloth! I am hungry, but if you are needed, I will wait until you are through for you are more important than food. He says with an oddly precocious tone to his voice.
Wessae, noticing the dragonet with wide eyes, mutters to herself before looking at Kuori. "It's alright," she nods to the newly-made rider. "Your dragon comes first, I'm sure Marja can instruct me in whatever needs doing as I'm not completely incompetent."
NOW I will tell Quilth. Shrineth adds smugly, her voice signaling the end of the hatching.
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- 21, 22 -- Fuereth,Nyraith, 20:34:31 06/01/05 Wed
The remaining eggs seem lonely without the prodigious company of their kin, and prompted by their absence, begin trembling. One emerges in a gasp of new breath, his fresh hide a strong, glowing shade of blue. Cracking free of the egg that had kept him too long a prisoner, the blue bugles defiantly at the candidates who would claim him. With a short, bullish toss of his head, he capers down the embankment of the nest, tumbling and flapping in alarm at the sudden absence of ground beneath his feet. Righting himself, he hisses and repulses the hands that would reach out for him, batting at a few boys with an impatient stroke of his forefoot.
It only takes him a moment to find his beloved, and with a happy whoop not unlike that of a young human male, he cavorts brazenly to his chosen human, giving the boy a sharp, insistent nudge, a gesture as patterened into him as his hide. The voice is as demanding, but filled with good cheer and love. L'kas! I am Fuereth! FEED ME!
As that egg is cracking, Shrineth mumbles to herself, for the queen egg has begun her tremors. However, she is not to hatch yet, for at that exact moment, a jolt to a nearby egg sets it into irrevocable motion. This egg begins to piroutte on the sand, the force of its movement almost lifting it bodily into the air. It bounces several times, regardless, rolling and displaying a sliver of cracks along the smooth, oddly pastel shell. With each spin of the egg, an indrawn breath from most attending is given, for it is almost like a show, the oddly colored egg could reveal...well...anything.
In a heartbeat, the willowy limbs of a dragonet emerge, hind feet first and agile forelegs quickly following suit. The young being inside suddenly writhes in alarm at being caught on its back, but righting itself proves to be a challenge. From the dark dreck covering the visible parts of the baby, it is hard to tell the color. But an experienced eye knew an acrobatic green when it was presented. And yes, as the slime shifts away with the shell, a veritable sunburst of green is seen, a hide glowing with perfect, opulent health. With uncanny grace for a hatchling, she unfurls her wings and lifts her face to the sky, opening wondering eyes to her great golden mother above her. With a friendly trill, she turns on her haunches as precisely as a ballerina and nimbly picks her way onto the grounds with the candidates. She is an exceptional little one, somewhat different from her sisters not just in size, but somehow in color as well. True, she is a green, but she's apart in a way that those eyeing her can't quite pin down. Is that a flash of gold, they see glimmering in her tender wingsails and setting the ground beneath her to glowing? It could be. Fussily examining each girl and dismissing her with a toss of a well shaped muzzle, the green prances amid those collected, carrying herself with the poise of a lady. Her mind casts about for that perfect one, the one with which she could truly be at home.
Amid the thoughts of heat and the complaints of fatigue, she searches, tirelessly. She needed someone as special and unique as she was. Someone maybe a little flighty, a little flirty, and a lot of fun. Someone...worthy. And finally, with a proud, musical little call, she locates her prize. Cantering toward the rider that will call her lifemate, her pleased contralto fills the girl's mind with a rush of feeling and need.
Mahiri! I am Nyraith, and we are going to be wonderful together. She positively croons in delight, enfloding the girl in a delighted embrace of wings and dragonet.
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- [Isabel, Sahira, Wessae, etc.] -- Marja; D'rai; Z'ni & Jesaketh, 11:01:50 05/29/05 Sun
((I'm sorry I took so very long to get back to you. I got attacked by school [my grades were HORRIBLE this year >_<] and a general lack of inspiration. El, I hope I haven't slowed anything down....))
As she waits for the fellis to take effect on Isabel, Marja prepares her equipment. The boiled needle and thread are wrapped in the same packet of paper, to protect them and keep the need for sterilization from delaying treatment. She moves quickly, needle flying as she stitches Isabel's wounds closed. Still, with these injuries, it's not a fast process, not if she wants to make sure it's done right. Sweat begins to bead on her forehead. "Wipe my forehead off," she orders Z'ni, knowing the danger of letting it get into her eyes or fall into the girl's wound, and thankfully he doesn't argue or ask why. Teeth gritted, her mind focused on Isabel's claw-marks and nothing else, the Healer is completely oblivious to the activity on the Sands as she ties off the last sutures. "There," she announces, sitting back and wincing a little as tense muscles protest the movement. The needle is wrapped in the cloth she'd been using to wipe her hands off, both to be either cleaned or discarded later depending on her judgement, and she reaches for a clean cloth and bandages. The lesser wounds on the girl's upper torso are quickly bandaged, and she wraps bandages loosely around her abdomen for the moment. A full dressing can wait a little while, while she takes care of Sahira. "Can you take her to the Lower Caverns and find her a room?" Marja asks Z'ni, tilting her head back to peer up at him. "I need to help her right now." She gestures at Sahira.
"Of course," Z'ni agrees, still not quite looking at Isabel. He's not a squeamish man, not exactly, but watching the Healer stitch her up had not done good things for his stomach. Kneeling next to the girl as Marja moves away, he slides his arms under her and hefts her with some effort. Getting her all the way to the Lower Caverns is going to be fun.... /Hey, Jesaketh!/
Launching herself from her perch above the Hatching Sands, Jesaketh lands nearby, a safe distance from the others. The green dragon bends her knee so that Z'ni can scramble on without using his hands, then lifts off with a powerful, energetic bound. Now Z'ni doesn't have to worry about dropping his unconscious burden on the way to the Lower Caverns.
Keeping one eye on the green dragon until she clears the exit, just to be sure of Isabel, Marja wipes her hands, grabs her bag, and hurries the short distance over to D'rai and Sahira. "Let me see your arm, girl," she requests, freeing it from D'rai's iron grip and carefully unwrapping the jacket. The Healer bites her lip, trying to decide whether this could be stitched, too, or should only be carefully bandaged, and only now really notices the other woman trying to help. "You know something about Healing?" she asks Wessae, belatedly injecting a respectful tone into her voice at the last minute as she realizes who she's addressing. She recognizes the Weyrwoman not because she'd ever been pointed out to Marja as such, but because she'd been hovering too closely over that gold dragon not to be Shrineth's rider.
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- Dreamers -- Letimira - Kamariath ( Admiral Stockings ), 00:13:49 06/03/05 Fri
Letimira stands by the clutch, half a dragonlength away. Seems like the Candidates had all drawn in upon the eggs as they dwindled, even after Shrineth’s initial warning against touching. Suddenly, the lass goes a bit misty eyed as she watches the fresh wave of hatchlings erupt from their mottled prisons. Three greens, two blues, a brown. The last green to emerge makes breath catch in the young Candidate's throat. Her demeanor is brilliant and her green hide glows like a Queen's! Oh, it would be so marvelous to Impress a dragon like that. The dark horse, the unexpected champion… more beautiful than the hide of the gold herself. But then again… she’s never seen a young, Impressible Queen up close before, who knows how she’d feel about it?
Letimira watches the elegant green go to an older girl, Mahiri. Ah, well… Mahiri deserved that beautiful little dragonet. The young girl had seen her talking to two unsure Candidates, and had given some self-confidence to both. One had Impressed a brown, hadn't he? Leti was sure she'd seen him around the lower caverns before. Sewing. He looked so happy with his partner… ah, but they all did. A little frustrated sigh escapes her. Was she too young, to fanciful? She swings her head from side to side and continues to follow the hatchlings.
The girl's grey-blue eyes trail the paths of the various young dragons, smiling at them as they bask in the presence of their new partners-for-life. One picks a young man she’d seen drudging in the caverns, that dark and strapping fellow. She lifts her petite hands to the sun and applauds as U’maro and his Quaroth walk out. A grin is left on her flushed face as both arms swing back to her sides. All remaining tendrils of angst and, yes, even jealousy, are forgotten.
But soon the hatching rush is over. Letimira lets her head fall, peering down at her white-robed chest and the toes of her neat sandals, which were almost too large. Admiral Stockings pokes his snout under her chin with a gentle quirr. In a moment of tenderness, she presses the bronze to her delicate collarbone. Full lips curl into a gentle smile. ‘Thanks, baby,’ she coos, tickling the admiral under his chin before hefting him over one shoulder. Though he’s a young flit, he still manages to dwarf the girl. Her fingers wander aimlessly upon his golden-brown-green hide, eliciting a series of happy squealing.
When the sound of another egg splitting open reaches her, however, her dreams soar uncontrollably and she whirls, eyes instantly darting to the smallish beige shell. But it wasn’t dancing. The noise was coming from elsewhere. Fog-coloured eyes sweep the sands, looking for any rogue shell that was missed… until a golden wing arcs magnificently into the air, displaying the largest egg for all to see. There is a universal intake of breath that Letimira can’t help but join. Her daydreams all flee her as she’s simply snared by the heart stopping moment. It seems an eternity, but the Queen is free in a matter of swift seconds. Her heart leaps into her belly, then into her throat, where it promptly pounds twice as fast as it should be, but only after skipping a beat. The gold floated around the sands, her pale hide glowing with the light of a thousand stars, a thousand possibilities, a thousand dreams.
The Candidate reaches forward blindly, hands outstretching to the Queen, lips parted and drying rapidly out. But the hatchling takes no notice, her eyes upturned to the sky, chasing the clouds that scuttle like crabs across a brilliant blue beach. Pale greyish eyes follow the dragon wherever her legs may carry… which happens to be right towards her.
Letimira stumbles for a second when a voice invades her mind. Knees hit the smoldering sands and burn, but not so badly. Arms are lifted above her head as light – golden and white – wells and surges before her. A tiny squawk brings her round. The Admiral’s bronze body cuts through the sky, glimmering, as his spot is usurped by the massive skull of a golden dragon. Letimira! I am Kamariath!
The girl remains perfectly still until little claws pierce her back. Again, the firelizard brings her from her reverie. Letimira shakes blonde locks from her eyes. Kamariath lifts her head from her rider’s shoulder and instead buts against her torso. The girl grabs the great, knobby skull and is shakily hoisted to her feet. A little yelp escapes her at the young Queen’s inherent strength.
Applause?
Yes, my heart.
They’re… applauding for me? You?
Us.
Letimira finds her hands roaming all over the body of her dragon, who in turn delves into the mind of her rider. Admiral continues swooping in dizzying spirals over his Impresser’s head, a bronze halo above them. He whoops and chatters excitedly before landing upon Kamariath’s back, dashing up and down her spine before leaping to Letimira’s arms. The Queenrider spins, hugging him close, the world turning to a blur of golden hue and brilliance. Without realizing it, she begins laughing.
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- To the Hatching Feast! -- T'bel and Quilth, 21:24:24 06/01/05 Wed
At the call from his lifemate, Quilth's muzzle arches upward, his jaw agape in draconic song even as his shining bright bronze wings flare to fling about the light of the sun. His soul sings with the bugle that erupts out of his body carried by the purest type of joy known. It is the joy that is love reflected in his great swirling blue eyes that though seemingly lifted upward by the tilt of his head, still truly hold the form of his beautiful mate in their glittering reflection. T'bel is swept up in the power of it, and emotions already reeling with the Impression of the Queen turn his eyes to Wessae. How perfect the newest matches are, how perfect their dragons are, how perfect their Weyr is! Everything simply seems and feels so right!
It is with this overflowing sense of sheer awe at all that New Isle had become and was yet to be that T'bel races to the top of the Stands, arms outstretched as his great tenor voice carries over the entire area.
"One and all must join us in Celebration of the Hatching! We feast in the Great Hall!"
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- Turn around, look at what you see/ In her face, the mirror of your dreams. -- Kamariath, 20:59:29 06/01/05 Wed
In another moment, barely a heartbeat after the last Impressions, the egg containing everyone’s hopes and expectations begins now to reveal its true mettle. It seems as though time on Pern has stopped, for the silence permeating the vast grounds. Those who had been talking or laughing, sitting or standing, or anything in between, stop. Wessae, who had been doctoring a fallen candidate, looks around with Shrineth’s pleased rumbling which has definitely changed pitch. The only other sound besides the golden queen's humming is the eternal one of sand rustling against shoes, robes, and walls.
She hatches? Wessae asks her dragon privately, daring not to break the silent ground with spoken words. In mute answer, Shrineth rises gracefully to leave the queen egg unprotected and fully visible to all. However, the protective matron is not even a claw’s breadth from her young one, in case anyone had an idea to do something foolish. Soon, to the straining ears of those present, a sublte sound is added to the layer. It is the sound of timidity, of hesitation, of new beginnings.
It is the sound of a dragon freeing itself from an eggshell.
And in a blink without further ceremony, she is free. Sprawled on the sand amidst the sticky trappings of her old life, the infant queen staggers to her feet with a splutter and a small sneeze that causes Wessae to smile endearingly. Remaining for a moment as though she knows exactly how special she is, she allows all present a good long look at her. Somewhat small, like her dam before her, she is a lighter shade of gold than most of her color, though her rank is unmistakable by her proud stance. Well formed and vital, her presence makes the very air around her sing, and her luminescent eyes take in everything with an air of rapture. So this was the world! Almost as though she had forgotten her purpose for hatching, she begins to meander off to the side as her gaze follows a cloud. It takes an infintely gentle and somehow indulgent nip from Shrineth for the youngster to come to her senses, which she does with a small blurt of sound. She had a job to do!
Eyes whirling with her choices, she wavers a moment, foot curled from the sand and body faintly trembling like a hunting hound on point. Not scared but thrilled, expectant, excited. She is searching for a companion to share her heart, her mind, the daring feel of wind and sun against skin. She's searching for a reassuring hand to scratch her eyeridges and a partner to clean her so she looks her best for any occaison. In short, a lifemate. But not just any will do, oh no. She takes a few steps one way, and then a few another. There were so many girls! Her head twists from side to side as she feels a pull one way, and then another. There were two pulls now, both equally strong, but only one would prevail.And suddenly she feels a release, the path shines clear and she flares her wings in delight, a gesture that causes a halo to descend on her head and neck. A mind and heart as free and imaginative as her own, racing with quick, thrilling dreams and a promising future. She had found her soul, and the joining was sweet. With a steady, measured step she makes her way confidently amidsts the quiet glances of candidates.
Laying her large head heavily on the shoulder of her girl with perfect love and trust, she inhales deeply, satisfied. Her heart bursts with joy in her discovery and a voice that can be heard by every single human and dragon present rings out. Letimira! I am Kamariath!
The grounds, which until now had been silent, erupt in a furious cheer of human and dragon alike.
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- *a place of one's own* -- Lukas, Ranee, Emilla, 00:07:28 06/01/05 Wed
Lukas'as heart had leapt at the emergence of the brown. Such a lovely dark shade he was too. For a moment, he'd barely breathed as the small dragonet scrutinized him. But then the brown had passed on and the breath had gushed out in a disappointed sigh. Perhaps it was not to be after all. He had never pictured himself as a dragonrider. Maybe he was right. But there had to have been some reason for the searchdragons to have picked him right? He tried to look hopefull. Anything was better than how Emilla looked. She was leaning on Ranee, looking utterly defeated. All of the Harper ballads she'd sang about riding dragons were going through her head at this moment. At the emergence of the greens, she'd had some hope, but they'd found worthier lifemates than she she was sure. She tried not to cry, there were still eggs left after all, but she believed right then that she'd never felt so unwanted. Ranee however kept watching, vigilant eyes ever present on the few remaining eggs. She'd really liked the last blue that'd hatched, but she knew how rarely blues Impressed females so she wasn't so dissapointed when the small fellow had found the boy he liked. If she didn't Impress at this Hatching there were more in the future. And there were still eggs to hatch yet.
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- Noooooooooo! *pant pant pant* -- Mahiri, 20:30:32 05/31/05 Tue
Mahiri was asleep.
Yes that's right. Quietly dozing away in a sliver of shade, her sweaty back molded to one corner; her robe clung to her in patches, wet and showing through to her clothes underneath. Short locks of deep brown hair plastered theselves to her forehead, temples and neck, and one of the three feathers had fallen and stuck right by her left nostril. A fine looking thing, most definitely, slack jawed and possibly drooling...errr...sweating from the mouth, heh. Her legs were tucked close beside he, sweaty and sandy as well, more tanned than usual from the long wait in the heat of the day; Mahiri's arms were folded amongst her robes across her lap, her head falling to one side as she leaned back against the not even moderately cool wall. What startled the young female into consciousness? Well first the two new hatchlings, but she promptly went back to sleep after that one. However, when four new arrivals split their shells and caused a tumultuous uproar, the sheer noise welling up from such a prolonged period of silence was enough to fully awaken the nineteen Turn old Mahiri. She snorted slightly, squinting and rubbing her eyes feverishly, blinking away offending eye boogers and straining to see the hatchlings as they found lifemates. A thrill of panic shot down Mahiri's spine and she rose to her feet in a flash. And in just as quick a flash she was back on the sand, dizzy and seeing spots from standing up so quickly after sleeping and being already overheated enough. Mahiri clutched at the wall and drug herself back up, sighing a little, frustrated with her weakness. Another sigh and she let go of the wall, running her fingers through her hair and fixing it at least to the point where it wasn't sticking to her. She shook free of her Candidate's robe, shaking it out a little bit to free it of sand and hopefully dry it off ever so slightly. She left the robe hanging from her shoulders, enjoying the feel of the hot wind against her sweaty arms and legs, as odd as it was.
Mahiri stepped out of her itty bitty alcove of shade and turned to look at the eggs almost dismally. Her bright green eyes darkened with anxiety. Four eggs left, the Gold egg and three others. With so many candidates, the mounting pressure seemed like it would crush the lithe female without a problem. She inhaled sharply, and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and attempting to free herself from the massive amount of stress. Naturally, this didn't work. Deciding to just live with the stressful situation, Mahiri smiled up at the Queen dragon as she presided over the remaining Hatchlings, as stoic and as protective of the Gold egg as ever. It had yet to provide any signs of hatching at all, had not even given a little shake to entice the crowd. Could it have possibly been a dud? Mahiri shook her head clear of the daydreams that threatened to turn pessimistic.
This couldn't possibly last all that much longer.
Mahiri chuckled at her thoughts. Of course not, there were all of four dragon eggs left that had to hatch. Unfortunately, it was not like they had been given a time limit in which they had to do so. Mahiri squinted up at the horrendously clear sky. If only it would rain...or get cloudy or something. Mahiri longed to go take a nice dip in the ocean and cool off her burning skin, to scrub away all the grime and dirt and sand that had decided to collect with her sweat as it dried, salty and sticky. Mahiri scratched at the back of her neck and stuck her toe in the sand, already bored after thirty seconds or so of being awake and walking around again. But this was to be expected, to be bored, anxious, scared, tense and nervous among eight million other emotions that did nothing but cause more and more tension to build between her shoulders. This would only serve the purpose of making Mahiri want a really nice backrub.
When would it end?
((OOC: bleagh, not that great, but it's a post))
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- Dreamer -- Letimira, 17:32:52 05/31/05 Tue
( This was just made in a desire to post her, so not very long.. >_<;; )
Letimira's legs are tired. There's just no denying it. She folds her little arms across her chest and shifts her weight again and again, from one foot to the other. Her golden-orange hair is becoming a bit frazzled out of its various ribbons from the heat, which has now totally penetrated the flimsy sandals and is toasting both her poor tootsies black. At least the Candidate's grown somewhat used to the burn, and even the ache in her legs and soles is now rather monotonous.
A sigh escapes her as her grey-blue eyes fiddle with the eggs, watching them carefully. It had been a while since one of them had hatched, was something wrong? She glances to to Shrineth, who doesmn't seem to be acting much differently. Nor are her rider nor Weyrmate.. maybe the girl is being paranoid. She shakes her head and pushes locks behind either ear, off her sweaty face and rosy cheeks. They could only wait..
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- Fifteen and sixteen! -- Riath, Brath, 00:13:57 05/14/05 Sat
After the long break, two smallish eggs begin to move about at the edge of the clutch.
The first is smaller, and it is torn asunder relatively quickly. The medium-sized green inside dances from the shattered remains of her prison, sashaying to one side and tossing her head about to dislodge a few remaining shards. She throws her head back and bugles, leaping clumsily from the nest of wiggling eggs and onto the sands themselves, glaring down the Candidates. A snort escapes the green's nostrils, and she shimmies around, inspecting each boy and girl frivolously, not daring to come too close. After passing back and forth a few times, the vivid, almost yellowy green dragonet makes her firm decision.
Yoshi, I am Riath! You have Impressed me, now let us feeeed!
While the green was hatching, a more stoic emergence was coupled with the large egg. It could be a brown, green, or blue, it's size was very neutral. Slowly, it rattles, rocking back and forth in lazy motions, before a muscular, dusky beige appendage bursts from the surface. It snaps around before the fellow limbs join it, and soon the brown is backing out of the orb, egg slime coating him head to claw. Red eyes whirl as they scan the boys from afar, though the small brown starts a steady pace towards one in particular.
I'm Branth, and you're D'van. I hunger.
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- *My Home* -- Botan Emera Bram Anak, 22:43:52 05/20/05 Fri
((Okay, Botan had an egg from when I had him before- that's blue Anak, for y'all's info.))
"Mother of modern wherries!" Botan muttered as he kicked sand out of his sandal- again. The teenage boy wore his slightly longer brown hair trapped under a sweatband, and a similar sweatband rested on his right bicep.
Atiyana had Impressed.
That was the main image he got from reliable bronze Bram. Green Emera was perched on the seventeen Turn-old boy's left shoulder, preening her well-oiled wings. A whiff of fish oil came across Botan's nose, and he waved it away, irritably. The hot sands, twenty-one nights of restless sleep, and an empty stomach all added to this. Then there was the fact that Emera's incessant, shrill humming filled his head, and Anak's deeper hum cut him right to the bones.
He watched the brown choose his lifemate- one of the aloof boys. The green chose a girl, and that was fine with him too. Atiyana had a green, L'van had a blue, and his friend Hythe had a green. His father- the thought of his father, Martan the ex-brownrider, immediately sobered him. He hadn't even seen his father before coming onto the Sands, having been busy with struggling into hisCandidate's robe- shift, really. But now, what kind of thoughts were this on a Hatching? That was crazy!
((He's any-colour. I finally remembered I had him, and decided to kick him down.))
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- No One Would Listen -- Lenox, 15:19:45 05/13/05 Fri
Garbed in a traditional candidate's shift, Lenox pauses at the edge of the Hatching Grounds. He unbelts his clumsy sword, and flicks his wrist sheaths off. The two daggers land point-down in the cooler sand outside the Grounds. He takes a big breath, and steps onto the Sands. Immediately, the scorching sand burns through his thin sandals.
No one but her
Long brown hair braided neatly, Lenox pulled it to the front of his left shoulder, tugging slightly. His masculine features made his hair look odd, and frankly, he was quite loathe to cut it.
Looking around the Sands, he sees several clumps of candidates, and the remaining eggs. Then, he couldn't exactly tell how he hadn't seen her, but golden Shrineth dominated his vision.
Her as the outcast Beas . . .
He made a somewhat awkward bow to her her, eyes slightly diverted, and as he stood up, something else grabbed his gaze. Apparently, one of the dragonets had been either viscious, upset, or blind, but two girls appeared mauled.
I tried to reach the world
Two bronzes were on the Sands, full grown ones. He wondered which one was the Weyrleader, or if either of them were.
Rise up and reach the world
Am I going to Impress? he wondered, eyes filled in awe.
No one would listen
((He's an any-color candidate. hands out cookies, and settles back to watch L'Phantome de l'Opera))
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- Eques! -- Taran, 12:30:48 04/25/05 Mon
I knew it! It’s unhinged him! This whole thing has made him insane! He’s totally, utterly, stark raving loony mad! He’s…ARGH! Taran’s jaw dropped in blatant surprise as Eques grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him. What on Pern was he doing? What did he mean, “What do I do?”. Was it if his wild theory came true, and he missed out on a dragon because of his happiness? Well that was a strange thing to think…
Taking Eques’s hands and removing them from his shoulders, Taran gripped the other young man’s arms in a frantic effort to make him stay still. “Nothing! Stop it! You’ll get us thrown off the Sands if you keep yelling like that! So just be quiet!” He looked up in time to catch the reproving glance of queenrider Rinali as she made her way out of the Stands to go to the Perches, and winced inwardly. Now he was probably classified in her mind as Eques’s friend, and some kind of troublemaker. Great, great. The loony picks me… But he didn’t really mind. If they both Impressed he’d have a friend among the weyrlings, at least. And this guy looked like he needed a bit of help on the “keeping out of getting eaten” side.
((*Cries* I know it’s tiny! But I have tons of coursework…))
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- ((Kovu)) -In Those Shoes- -- Mahiri, 16:31:57 04/28/05 Thu
She spends her days up in the north park,
Watching the people as they pass
And all she wants is just
A little piece of this dream,
Is that too much to ask
With a safe home, and a warm bed,
On a quiet little street
All she wants is just that something to
Hold onto, that’s all she needs
Mahiri shook her head and smiled quite sincerely, her eyes expressing nothing but happiness. Maybe she would do a little good just standing around waiting. She grinned and squeezed Kovu's shoulder in a friendly gesture, urging him to bring his head up. Her bright eyes were vibrant, friendly, welcoming his question as she sought to answer and relieve the slightly confused Candidate.
"That's alright, I can explain them, you se-"
She cut off in mid sentence as the tell tale sound of eggshell falling away under the straining of another hatchling drove the passive crowd once again into a frenzy of excitement. She grinned and watched as another bronze Impressed, and three more hatchlings in a blur of motion. Mahiri jumped up excitedly, letting out what could be deemed as a high pitched squeal as B'mulf Impressed a brown. She clapped and yelled, already becoming quite hoarse with the days events as her voice broke slightly. She cleared her throat and turned back to Kovu, motioning to the different colored hatchlings and explaining quickly.
"That's a bronze, they're the largest that males Impress. THe second biggest are browns, like those two that just hatched, and the smallest are the blues, but they're usually some kind of speed and agility that you'll never get astride a bronze, just due to size. They all have their strengths and respective duties. Boys can also Impress greens. Girls can Impress the Gold, greens or blues. Besides bronzes, Gold dragons are the largest, as you can see with Shrineth."
She grinned as she explained and pointed, recalling for a moment when she was much younger as her father pointed out a few as the walked or sat, explaining the colors and telling various stories to Mahiri and her brother between Gathers, reciting some of the songs or singing them horribly off key. She grinned as she thought back to her first questions pointed at her father...
"So there's blue, greeb, brown, bronze and gold?"
"Yes"
"What about red?"
"...no, there's no red dragons."
"Oh" Mahiri screwed up her pretty little 7 Turn old nose and thought a moment. "..pink?"
He chuckled softly, "Certainly not pink."
Mahiri sighed, "I want a pink one."
The young female grinned at her memories and the silly thoughts that occurred at those young ages, and how her brother had scoffed at the notion of pink dragons. Mahiri shook this thought from her mind and turned to Kovu with a smile.
"I can answer any other questions you have, if you'd like."
If I could be like that,
I would give anything
Just to live one day, in those shoes
If I could be like that,
what would I do,
What would I do
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- Sitting Waiting Wishing -- Ranee, Emilla, Lukas, Melynda, and /v'tan, 20:49:35 05/03/05 Tue
Did the sun seem hotter when standing on equally hot sands? Ranee thought so. What she wouldn't give for a nice cool glass of redfruit juice right now. She sighed, shuffling her feet and tryibng to keep hot sands out of her sandals. lukas took off his hat and fanned himself before putting it back on to keep the sun off. Would the eggs ever hatch? What was taking them so long? They'd been going at quight a steady pace not long ago and now they were just sitting there, burning in the hot sun as he was. "Not long now I think." Emilla whispered as if guessing his thoughts. "I hope you're right." Lukas murmured, nervousness mixing with discomfert.
In the stands, V'tan and Melynda watched too, willing the eggs to go on and crack already. "Poor kids." Melynda said sympathetically, looking down at the candidates. "Was it so hot out when ours hatched?" "I don't think the weather was really on my mind that day." V'tan answered with a small smile, fondly remembering the wonderfull day on which he'd Impressed Voltaith.
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- What do I do to ignore them behind me? -- True (Spirit, Reign), 15:04:58 04/30/05 Sat
((Ack... I've had writer's block! But, now I'm back!))
Do I follow my instincts blindly?
True shifted her feat again as she watched the newly hatched walk away with their Impressed. Great. She thought bitterly. The sands are hot, my feet hurt, my head hurts... and no dragon will Impress me. None have even bothered to look in my direction. She sighed. Technically, she shouldn’t be blaming the dragons for something that was probably her own fault—since when did a dragon choose to leave a candidate in the dust because they felt like it? Never, that’s when...
True sighed again as her wide-eyed emerald gaze searched the grounds. The boy she’d seen at the beach had impressed the first blue what seemed like so long ago, and she knew no one else here. These children were so young... how did they expect to become a full-fledged rider when she didn’t expect someone her age could? Well, everyone’s opinion was different, that was certain. True herself didn’t expect to Impress at all, let alone become a thread-fighting rider one day. Or—did she dare think it? —a Junior Weyrwoman.
She shook her head rapidly, sending a shower of black silk in every direction. What made her think that? Deep inside, True had the secret desire of every girl, to impress the golden egg that would make her Junior Weyrwoman of New Isle Weyr. However, as True had always seen disappointment in life, she’d learned to always try—otherwise others called you scardy-wherrie—and don’t expect to get anything out of it. That was just common sense. If you expect something, it’ll be so much harder when it doesn’t happen.
However, True didn’t want to think that. She wanted desperately to find the hope that a dragon, be it emerald, sapphire, or the blessing, would choose her, and would make someone out of her one day. She still felt the foolish sense of anticipation—many small eggs hadn’t hatched, and the gold was free! —that she’d so often wished the other girls (and boys, truly) would stop showing so animatedly on their faces. Didn’t they realize they would probably be left here on the sands when the last shard fell from the last egg? Didn’t she? True sighed, and looked out to the eggs.
Do I hide my pride from these sad dreams,
If one of you is out there, and can hear, me... please help.
True felt a burning sensation as her face turned a dull scarlet. A stupid girl, that’s what she was! What was she thinking, trying to call out to the eggs? It’s not like they could hear her... was it? And, if they did, what sharding dragon would listen to a cry from a pitiful dimglow like her? So, True was a great sap, just like the other girls she hated so much...
True shifted her feet nervously. Before she’d been in a bad mood after they’d restricted so much, like the clothing and weapons’ policy. Now, she was shimmering down, and was startled to find herself fearful.
Great... This is just too weird. Why do I feel so much anticipation?
True swallowed some bile that had built up in her throat, and watched as grains of sand splattered in every direction, both from rocking eggs and baby dragons. Her heart leapt slightly—what if she was to be mauled, like those other girls? True had a high threshold for pain, but along with the humming and the heat, her head felt ready to burst. Add to that deep wounds from a dragonling, and...
True shook herself again. She just had to remain calm. If she did that, she’d be all right... right?
And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?
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- Bored... bored... bored... -- Ash, Deceith, 14:34:46 04/30/05 Sat
((Yes, Pup, I AM aware that Ash is in two places at once... but shards, she's bored! We'll say this is after her talk with Cometer.
BTW, I contacted NC. We agreed that Eques is pointing at her. Check his post if you don't believe me.))
Ash was sitting in the very front of the Stands, watching the Impression. She was dressed proudly in her newest gather gown, a black kind of silk. After all, it was a special occasion, is it not? However, even with her dress she wore the shoulderknots of a brownrider.
This was what set Ash apart from everyone else. She mentally contacted Deceith, and the brown yawned wearily.
{Ash? What are we doing here?}
'Watching.'
{I can see that.]
'Well, is there anything else to do?' Ash stopped as she saw a boy in the sands point to her. She rolled her eyes. 'D? What's that boy's name?'
{Er... I believe his searchdragon called him Eques.}
'What?' Ash asked, turning to look at her dragon at the back of the stands. He was looking back at her.
{Eques. Do you know him?}
'Yeah. Kinda. But he doesn't know me.'
{Er... why?}
'Because he's my half-brother.'
{Oh.},/i> Decieth stated. That made sense, as Ash's father had abandoned many children, and Ash, being the only kid he kept, knew all their names.
'Hah. He better Impress.'
{Or what?}
'Dunno. I'll have to kill him.'
{What?}
'Just kidding, just kidding...'
Ash watched the boy, noting that he was friends with whats-his-name, that twin she'd seen in the Lower Caverns. Tar something. Taran? Yeah, that was right. Hm... Maybe that would be of use to her later.
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- Returning to the Stands... -- T'bel and Quilth, 21:59:44 04/29/05 Fri
Sea-green eyes linger on Wessae’s face for the brief moment that she stands before the Bronze rider, and a soft grin curls across the tanned face, a hint at the emotions cherished even in the few seconds that the busy Weyrleaders were able to share. One scar-thickened but gentle hand stretches out to her, fingers extending to touch her shoulder in a consoling fashion for the stress of the event. Then she is rushing across the Sands and T’bel is left to only exhale in defeat, his gaze following her as she somehow manages to weave through the chaos, determined figure unburdened by the stumbling confusion all around her. Squinting as Wessae reaches the other side of the sands, T’bel’s smile hardens into the recognition of a fallen Candidate, and the ever-constant dangers of a Hatching. His eyes close with the slightest regret that he was trained as a Harper before he came to the Weyr, and therefore could do little for the situation. But his solitude lasts for the shortest of moments, for the continuous flow of late arrivals to the Sands and the stands now requires his full attention. T’bel offers respectful nods to those who offer him the traditional greeting as he moves towards a better viewpoint in the stands, feeling the warmth of the Sands even through the thick leather of his boots, and a different kind of warmth within as a new group of four eggs revealing browns, a bronze and a blue find their life mates.
Twenty-three Turns pass quickly.
"I don’t know if I ever realized just how quickly until today." T’bel pauses mid-stride, suddenly recognizing something he’d failed to do upon arrival, he lifts his face towards the jagged rocks where his bronze arches protectively above the golden mother.
"It’s a fine clutch, Quilth. Healthy hatchlings and three bronzes so far!"
Many browns, blues, and greens have found life mates as well, T’bel.
The Weyrleader shakes his head good naturedly at Quilth’s unabashed paternal pride, "Indeed they have Quilth. My apologies for being a tad biased."
The soft mental rumble that touches T’bel’s mind is a well-recognized message of pardon, and thus forgiven, the Weyrleader runs up the stairs two at a time to get back up to the Stands. Sea-green eyes hover over the expanse of gold grains, watching mottled ivory shells wobble and shake, potential Impressions, and potential injuries, always foremost on his mind.
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- Late rabble.. ! -- L'meak - Marath .. B'mulf - Zeeth .. Letimira ..
U-boot Uamaro, 18:37:22 04/27/05 Wed
Lemeak rolls his eyes to himself, folding his arms across his narrow chest. He lets a pale, pointy chin fall to his collarbone and frosty eyes fall shut, a relaxed frown set about slightly-puckered lips. The gaze snaps to attention at the sounds of cracking eggs, but he tries to keep his cool.. this was a chance of a lifetime, right? Why not get excited? As he shakes his head, fluffy bangs swishing over his white forehead, the Candidate sternly reprimands himself. I am a Healer, not a rider. I'm only here. to. here to.. Shards. Hands clench into fists around either thin arm, and Lemeak fiercely shuts his eyes.
Then there's a fresh round of cracking coming from the mass of eggs and he finds himself watching them. A showy green, a bug-eyed brown, and a clumsy blue. Lemeak shook his head and leaned away, watching each hatchling pick their partner for life.
Then there was another.. her dark fury tearing down the unfit like grass beneath her dangerous talons. The Candidate finds his jaw dropping slightly, before his attention is stolen by a woman moving to tend to the girls felled by the green. Is she a healer, like himself? Unconciously, he fingers the knots over his robes, which are all immaculately tied. Lemeak turns, wanting to track the project of the stalking green.. only to find her right there, her eyes the colour of old wine and fire.
L'meak, I'm Marath. Please let's get out of here, I'm hungry.
L'meak pauses for a second, trapped between the worlds of Candidacy and weyrlingism, that goldbronzebrownbluegreen mindmeld called Impression. He pulls himself together, staring forward with parted lips and hazy, grey-touched eyes. Marath stands before him, patient and calculating. Are you ready? Think at me.
.. yes. Yes. You must be hungry. A narrow, bony hand for a moment touches a knobbly, dark skull, but the green twitches her head out of the way.
That's very undignified, she growls, though her mind is alight with cold amusement. L'meak gives a dark smile and drapes his arm over her neck, instead. Marath is still gooey and sandy from the egg, and he relishes privately in her warmth. Together, they exit, without a word nor wave to anyone.
-
Bomulf, at being unable to grab Mahiri's attentions, returns to his silent, grinning nature. Knobbly yellow fingers tap on his puffy white sleeve, both rolled up to the elbows in a rumple of cloth. A good deal of moisture has collected on him due to the heat, and his free fingers sweep beneath his blue headband, scuttling away the sweat. Dark eyes and pale teeth beam at various little things - a big sand dune with an odd shape, a dragon or two, maybe a pretty girl. It doesn't much matter to him.
The young man smiles up at the sky and gnaws the tip of his twig, nonchalant as ever. A few dragons pick a few boys. Cool beans.
Then a particular golden-brown hatchling makes his distracted way up to him. Bomulf crouches to put himself closer to the dragon's height, and flashes his teeth in a friendly grin. The brown cocks his head, eyes swirling a lazy and contented teal.
'And who are you looking for, then?' Bomulf whispers, sure no one would hear. He reaches out his hand to touch the sode hide, then remembers the dark green a few minutes past, and recoils. But the dragon presses closer, until they're touching.. rubbing against each other, even.
B'mulf, I have found you! I am clever, yes yes. I am Zeeth! We must go to the bowl for food right away. He churrs and tousels B'mulf's upturned hair with a happy, sunny chin.
B'mulf gacks, loses his balance, and lands back down in the hot sand. He's used to the heat, though, and pays little mind to it. Yellow hands connect with the neck of Zeeth, stroking up and down along it. Zeeth, eh? the new rider speaks while the hatchling squalls with dragonian laughter at the tickles. My.. partner, shall we say? B'mulf's grin switches from ever so slightly mysterious to joyful as he gets to his sandals. Zeeth remains close to his Impressor, and they head to the bowl together.
-
Letimira grins and folds her hands behind her back, tipping from heel to toe as she listens to Dorat. He had a big, strong voice, and she liked it. When he proferrs his hand, she accepts it, grabbing his index finger with one set of digits and his pinky with the other. The contrast is stunning - lean, big, dark, tough.. slightly pudgy, petite, pale, soft. The Candidate beams up at him, glad to meet someone properly polite and friendly. 'Greetings Dorat, it's a pleasure to meet you.' The Admiral croons and turns to face the dark young man, tilting his bronze head and shuffling about on his human's shoulder. Letimira nods justly, and strokes the firelizard's long snout. 'Thank you. I think so, too. And so does he. Don't you? Dooon't yooou?' she tuts and coos at the flit for a few seconds, who makes an embarrassed squawk. 'His name is Stockings. Admiral Stockings.'
Suddenly there's a brown there, and that brown is suddenly atop Dorat, and suddenly crying out. Letimira jumps three feet and prances away. But Stockings is humming loudly, and she'd heard the full-sized dragons doing that when some of the eggs cracked. She cocks her head, her orange-blonde locks flicking a bit. 'Did he.. ? Are you.. ?' At the look on both faces, the girl knows it to be true. She would merrily lean down and help Dorat - D'rat - to his feet. 'Congratulations!' she cheers and pats his back, before trailing her hand down Tolgath's massive shoulder. Now, the Candidate hopes he won't mind.. but she was very curious. 'Wave goodbye, mister,' she scorns the bronze, who blinks at her, then launches delicately from her shoulder to fly a lap about the brownrider's head, trilling. Letimira welcomes her little baaaby back with a cheerful hug.
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Uamaro remains by the wall. His olive skin is gleaming with sweat, but he doesn't seem to care. Feels like the beach, he thinks, before setting himself down upon the sand. It nearly burns his bum off, but the muscular lad shrugs off the pain to relax in the heat. A low grumbling emits from his stomach, and he winces, rubbing a massive hand over the soft swell of his gut. Wish I brought another pie. Suddenly, he laughs and his thick body shakes. This was a blast. Dragons crawled from the nest and towards their partners, wave after wave, and he had the best view of them all, didn't he?
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- ^Never^Here^Never^More -- Davan, 17:57:58 04/27/05 Wed
"Mrush, shhh," Davan whispered to the slightly squawking green. He inserted a morsel of meat between her 'lips', so to speak.
Fourteen eggs hatched. three bronzes, one brown, four blue, and six green. So far, none had shown any interest in him. Two girls had gotten mauled by a rather temperamental green. She had been Impressed by one of the boys.
He cradled the smalled willow-green Mrush in his arms, He knew he probably looked stupid, but he was no longer acting Lord Holder of Bitra. No, that had ended when his cousin took over. He should have known- no, he didn't want to go there. But he knew what he was thinking. He should have known that the Conclave would choose him when he parted with the marks that paid the assassins.
You killed your own father. What kind of person does that? he wondered to himself. Then he answered himself, Me, I guess.
He looked at the tiny green cardled in his arms, and smiled. The small change in his features looked alien on his normally scowling face. Now that he looked at the delicate female, his mind altered dramatically.
He had been brought up to believe that to Impress was bad; and doubly so if you got a green. But, looking at the little one he was lucky enough to have attached, he thought that a green wuld be just as great as a blue, brown, or even a bronze.
What would your father say?
Davan was getting tired of his concious.
His father would have said that he was crazy even being here. He would have taken away his son's runner, and forced him to work like a drudge. Probably out with the herdbeasts. His father had known of his innate dislike of the lumbering beasts.
((He's still a brown and broze candidate, but I think I'll include green with them. Ah, I'm feeling expansive today. Comes from feeling happy, I guess. I had a great date last night.))
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Pardonez Moi! -- C*W*, 18:20:45 04/27/05 Wed
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