Returning to the Stands... -- Hatching Sands

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Date Posted: 22:59:44 04/29/05 Fri
Author: T'bel and Quilth
Subject: Returning to the Stands...

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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