VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 21:33:50 02/19/05 Sat
Author: Yima & Yimask; S'kar & Raskith; R'ven
Subject: >Now!<
In reply to: Manethenre 's message, "Found^My^Niche" on 18:43:07 02/19/05 Sat

((*pulls out her copy of Dragon's Kin, just to make sure she does everything right* Hatching! Yay! ^_^ Oh, and I'm going to assume that the blood-porridge thing is a good idea, simply because while the characters in DK suspect the WherMaster might have been joking about that, it's only a suspicion. It certainly didn't hurt Kisk/Nuelsk. And I can't believe I didn't bother to send Yima out for food or something before this. *headdesk* That kind of idiocy is not normal Yima, believe me, it's more normal "me". We'll just say she's really, really tired or something....))


Even Yimask, who's barely tolerating being told to take over the care of eggs that are not hers, can get caught up in the excitement of a Hatching. She wakes as the babies first begin to stir in their shells, and begins a low, rough, growling hum moments before Manethenre cries out. Brought abruptly out of her doze by the noise, Yima finds her watchwher's head already raised and craned to see the hatching, and scrambles to her feet and around the curved neck to kneel beside the children. "Remember, they don't Impress!" she shouts, not to be heard over the noise - the hatchlings' infrequent squawks aren't that loud, and neither is the sound of cracking shells - but because she wants to make sure her voice registers on the children, who will certainly be focused on the little ones. "Just grab the first one you see, and worry about whether it came from your egg later - they need tending now! They'll assume the first thing they see is their mother, and expect to be fed. They're stupid little creatures right now, remember that, they're not like dragons and won't realize or care if they hurt you, so be careful handling them. I'm sending for food, hold on to them and keep them from attacking each other or they might gang up on your little one, Clell!" Internally, she's cursing herself for not thinking of the food earlier. Shards, flame, and Threadscore, woman! You blithering idiot, why didn't you think? Self-recrimination will have to wait until later, though. Right now is a time for action. /Yimask!/ It will be a while before she can really get the watchwher to focus on certain dragons, but she'd telegraphed her distress to them once before, when they were drowning in the ocean. /Do you remember the water? The big water, Yimask!/ The memory-image she sends, of them struggling and spluttering in the ocean, is familiar to the watchwher, and the big gold groans in dismay. /Do you remember the blue dragon? The big blue dragon who heard you before?/ She remembers it - royal blue, nearly as big as a brown, and forever in her good graces as their savior from the ocean. Slow assent, mixed with confusion, accompanies Yimask's chirrup of confirmation. /Good! Call to the blue dragon, Yimask! Just call, like you're in the ocean again!/

A moment later, a deep draconic voice addresses her directly. She'd hoped Raskith would be willing to do it again, as he'd done briefly in the ocean to tell her help was coming. Dragons aren't often keen on talking to those other than their rider, but apparently Yimask's sense of urgency has made this one willing to override his distaste. Wher-woman, are you in trouble? he asks, deeply worried. He rather likes the grumpy, bad-tempered gold creature, even if she is of such a lower order than himself.

Yima breathes a sigh of relief. /Of a sort. My own stupidity, but- the wher eggs are hatching, and they need food now. Blood porridge would be best - hot oat porridge, with lots of blood mixed in - but fresh bloody meat would be enough if it's well-chopped. I've made do with that before. Just food, enough for four wher hatchlings - two dragon hatchlings, I'd say./

Is that all? I thought you were hurt! Raskith sounds affronted. Be hurt next time, not stupid. I'll talk to S'kar, he adds belatedly, just before vanishing from her mind.

"Food is coming!" Yima snaps. "Keep those creatures under control until then, just wrap your arms around their necks and hang on." She can pick up, a bit, on the general aura of hunger - without even the blood-bonds as guides, the hatchlings don't have anyplace specific to direct their feelings and are just projecting willy-nilly. For a moment, she considers slashing everyone's hands right now, then thinks better of it. They're too hungry. They'd drain the children dry. I hope S'kar hurries.

To her relief, it's less than a minute later, with the final egg only just now revealing a pale bronze hide, that there's rustling at the doorway, and a small slender man slips through with a minimum of disturbance. In fact, he isn't carrying anything, but only holding the cloth at the door and using his body to shield the watchwhers from the light while a much taller, more broad-shouldered man carries two heavy cauldrons of porridge. He sets them carefully down, a few feet apart, near the children and wher hatchlings, smiles briefly at all of them, and makes a quick hand gesture to Yima.

"R'ven! Thank you, that's enough," she assures her brother, and waves at him and the smaller man as they depart quickly. They can tell it's not a good time to stay and talk to her. "Thank you, both of you." Then Yima spins back to the children. "Mikhal, Telomm, that pot, and Manethenre and Clell, you take the other, " she snaps, pointing them to the correct cauldrons. The bigger whers will have the bigger appetites, after all. "Feed them by hand, I suppose. You'll get even more messy soon enough, with these creatures, so don't try to tell me how gross it is. Try to keep them fixed on you, because until they're full I don't want to blood-bond them or they'll suck all the blood out of you, but you need to have some measure of control over them until then and being the providers of food is the best way. Talk to them, keep your hands on them unless your hands are full of porridge. The earlier we get them fixtated on you, the better. Remember, they're not dragons, you don't Impress them, right now they can't pick your minds out from any of the others here so you can't talk to them mentally, but your voice is a very good start. When they're full, they'll fall asleep, and you get to stand watch over them until they wake up." Now that the brief food problem is resolved without ever having actually become a crisis, she's very sure of herself, and sounds it. There's definite authority and command in her voice, not to mention the suggest that anybody who argues is going to find themselves regretting it.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Post a message:
This forum requires an account to post.
[ Create Account ]
[ Login ]
Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.