Clutch 21
Dam Gold Zuhth
Sire Bronze Eranath
Theme Colors
Number of Eggs 7
Clutching Date Aug 7, 2017
Hatching Date Sep 2, 2017

Definitions of Royalty Egg

Billowing cloth drapes in a multitude of overlapping cascades around this large ovoid. Upon the crown of the shell, it gathers in a rich vibrant tyrian purple that varies a bit in hue. Natural of the process which must be so precise to pick just that right moment to stop the shifting colors. To go beyond the blood curdling crimson to a deeper, darker, vibrant lush violet richness that rests so placidly in its sandy wallow accepting all adoration. Embroidered fleur de lis in golden thread emboss the richness upon the top, while tangles of gold and silver cord embellish along the plumped sides of the shell. Only the bottom third seems somewhat unfinished. The hue is darker there as if from the imagined dampness of the stained cloth still drying. It is not quite so rich and inviting, but patience will be rewarded to the one who can wait until it is ready.

Mind Touches

Regalitude frizzles as your hand strokes that boundary which seems so far away and yet close. A snapping sensation that alights upon your skin as mind, somewhere between goosebumps and static shock. It does not seem to much take notice, haughty and aloof you catch a hint of a 'hmph!' as the touch fades.

Regalitude sashays along to a rhythm you are not entirely invited to hear. Discordant notes drift through in an unchained melody that falls to the tone death. Perhaps if the whole story were revealed you could twirl along with the fanciful distracted thoughts of the one within this shell, but absent such connection you are left with only half of the story.

Regalitude sparks as you encounter it again. A soft static burst in blue and yellow that seem to surprise it perhaps as much you. Perhaps for the first time you have an echo of its attention. Something that exists beyond the developing breadth of its own being it seems unsure what to make of you before simply drifting back to its own self indulgences.


Blue Yianth impressed to Cass (Cass)

Irresistible Egg

Bright, cheerful, unrepentant this average sized egg simply gleams within its nestled perch on the sands. Lustrous and inviting a warm cherry apple red engrosses the entire smooth surface with only minor variations in hue. The tiniest of striations run lengthwise, serving to somehow make it seem a bit more round than it actually is. The striations come together at either apex, not particularly notable but a dark enough splotch to offset it from the remaining inviting perfection. It looks crisp and fresh and ready to eat, rather too good to be true. if only you could get past its brooding mother!

Mind Touches

The Evil Twin stretches in delicious irony. No happy fluffy, nor melodramatic creature does one sense from the slithering sickly noxious tendrils that grasp cruelly at your thoughts. Hungry for knowledge, and the power it brings. Hungry for conquest and dominance and perhaps a good evil monologue. Well, fingertips slip together, all in due time right?

The Evil Twin cackles in a hoarse, painful throaty way. So you want to know its plans? You desire to discern its not so upright intentions? The delicious swirl of conspiracy draws you in like a moth to a flame. Well, do stay a spell and it might just learn if you are malleable enough to consider.

The Evil Twin roars in a flame of green and black. Of fire and fury broken by malicious cackles as it attempts to draw you into its fiery doom, err plans. Plans, that's right it just needs to pause and find that good monolog here. There. No, wait it's somewhere around and it fumbles off groping in distraction and relieving you of that bone chilling decision of whether you'd really rather stay or flee.


Green Vilqueth impressed to Th'mew (Bartholomew)

Ghost in the Shell Egg

A rather small egg, this one is at first nothing quite so amazing as its colorful clutchmates. The shell is smooth and plain, dull almost in its singular representation of a hue which upon reflection is not quite so easy a task. One could say it is that gleaming reflection of a first winter's snow that settles frostily over the land only the shell doesn't exactly sparkle. It might be but the dusty plain chalk drawn from the earth and used in manners both practical and but for the natural tendencies to be speckled with tans and none of that is to be found here. Mayhap it is actually a bleached out cotton, or fine linen but that the texture to match the image lacks as well. The only break in conformance to the indescribable hue of its entirely to plainness is the vaguest tendrils of palest smoke gray upon one side that when rotated to visibility from its mothers care might look like a hint of a dragon etched upon the surface. Or perhaps it is just a mirage that the mind tricks one into seeing to put something into the expanse of blandness that otherwise mystifies the mind.

Mind Touches

Seeking an Identity reaches out in response to your touch, a soft presence that is only beginning to define itself. It is… something, someone, somewhere. In the moment, it exists in a world of dreams, a world of darkness and warmth, a safe place in which it is unburdened. Yet a place in which is has a need to define itself from its surroundings, a place from which it struggles, yearns, needs to know. Who am I?

Seeking an Identity swirls around the edges of your thoughts in a growing cascade. Of points of light that blur reality and imagination. It needs further input to understand and your presence is in that sense irresistible. It isn't trying to intrude, a natural curiosity drives it to flood your sense and seep into your mind in an uncoordinated fashion that works towards understanding the sense of your self in the hopes of understanding its own self.

Seeking an Identity swirls in confusion. It creates an endless intricate set of vortices in its passing wake as it puzzles over life, the universe and things. Nothing out of the ordinary for an unborn dragonet, surely?


Bronze Jizunoth impressed to Z'ki (Zevuki)

Who Needs a Migraine Egg

Neither large nor small, there is little one will attribute to average about this egg but its size. Perhaps it might be that it is among the more active of the eggs on the sands, frequently twitching, shivering, or even rolling a bit in its nest no matter the depth or sandy bracing that its dam may give. Most likely however what will be remembered is the horribly painfully bright electric blue that screams upon the surface like one touched a live wire. There are even flashes of electric yellow and white-blue lightning that glint and spark as one changes the angle to which one looks upon the egg. Almost as bad as looking at the sun for the spots that swims in one's vision after, at least one could say that the actual hue is not entirely unpleasant. It hovers between cool and warm for a blue, if unabashedly forward in its vibrancy it will certainly not be easily missed.

Mind Touches

Electric Dreams carries you skywards upon a slender colorfully painted board. Life you are surfing the clouds it hums a rather catchy and charged tune. The scene is pleasant and fun, an expression of exploration to open the story of a life just beginning. It slips away as you begin to plummet from this strange encounter.

Electric Dreams returns in a flurry of action sequences. Buildings which seem familiar and yet are unrecognizable suddenly disintegrate in a bold blooms of fiery red and gold. An invisible wind rushes in, and the reverses pushing out, blurring the destructiveness of creativity into a wall of fading hues.

Electric Dreams shifts the scene again. At first the hues and lines are to unfocused to make much out of but the music that swells carries you along in an energetic way. It twines with your core, drawing you into a fleeting story, a colorful tale that lasts but the span of the brush of your fingertips along its shell. Joy, pleasure, excitement, a strange artistic sort of inspiration that slips away again in the parting flop of a bunny's ears.


Blue Phikeyth impressed to Mera (Candimerah)

Sweetest Citron Egg

A delicate drop of dew slowly drips down the side of the pocketed surface. It slips along that perfection of orange, those tiniest of perfected dimples which engages in a random path of unpredictability. The hue belies one piece of perfection, whose flesh beneath is juicy and sweet, and which offers a respite from the burning heat of the sands. The fruit appears to have been grown and nurtured with love and care by one of elder age, with knowing gentle hands and deep experience. This depth of knowledge has produced perhaps the finest amongst the citrons, the most perfect of specimens that rest ever as carefully nestled by its mature dam until that day when it is precisely the right moment for it to be plucked, err hatch.

Mind Touches

Wisdom of Ages reaches out with slow deliberate motions. There is little unplanned about it, unabashedly unhurried as it slowly slips around the edges of your own thoughts. The pace might be to glacial to endure, or it might be just slow enough to seem unthreatening as opposed to others of its siblings. As if it runs out of energy, blue and silver tendrils of its thoughts splash up against yours and then fade without fuss.

Wisdom of Ages is already at the edge of your thoughts somehow, and now cerulean and indigo creep a bit farther in. There is a purposeful slowness, as though each step is considered and deliberate to start to tease out some of your own memories. It has little to understand in context but for your own reactions as small [pieces of your own life flash in bright bursts for some moments. Then it pauses, waiting to see if it might be wise, or allowed to continue in order to better understand and yet if your reaction is opposed it is as ready to slip away as easily as it arrived.

Wisdom of Ages is ever gathering information, processing, deliberating it may even be considered extremely /boring/. It is however what it is and deliberate, methodical it is also a sense of fairness in having viewed some of your thoughts previously it now shares a few flickers of its own. Of course, it doesn't have much to go on so it is almost more of a feel and sense than anything so much direct in pictures. A lulling comforting warmth that envelops in the softest of fashion, a reassurance of safety in a low hum that vibrates to the very core of one's being and then, then it dissipates again.


Gold Xerosaeth impressed to Kassala (Kassala)

All or Nothing Egg

Darkest amongst its peers, this little egg huddles, a quiet lurker in the presence of such colorful peers. It is downright an absence of them, or perhaps encompasses all that they are, into the seemingly depthless nothingness which broods beneath a perfectly smooth, nearly rounded shell. More like a marble of onyx than a living breathing egg, it defies the light which seeks to reveal it. There is no hue discernable and the surface is neither shiny nor matte, simply unrevealing. No hints of dark indigo or navy, no hiding sparkle of starlight, not even the breath of a shadow to compete with the ultimate pitch darkness. A terrifying endless darkness, the fate of all at the end of time. For now it simply rests there, an innocent egg of course, it has no particularly mad or nefarious plot, surely.

Mind Touches

Inescapable Abyss ROARS to life all around, about and inside you the moment your fingers brush the surface of its shell. It is LOUD in a cacophony of everything that simply overwhelms your senses. It surrounds you, overwhelming and inescapable threatening to encompass the very core of your being and pull you over a horizon from which there is no return.

Inescapable Abyss greedily pulls at the very essence of your being. Although the presence is very strong, persistent and unambiguous in seeking to ensconce your entire being by it's own self, drowning you out until nothing remains. It does not do so from a sense of darkness, from any sort of evil. It is what it simply is as it steadily pulses, pushes, pulls drawing you towards the inevitability of it all.

Inescapable Abyss pulls you ever closer to its mental horizon. What lies beyond there is only knowable one way, and at the same time a path you know you could never return from. A path that may have many avenues once the horizon is crossed but not a single one that will return you to your present state. Before you can really decide what you would decide a warm loving presence interrupts, soothing the willful dragonet back to a restless slumber. Looking beyond the shell you might notice Zuhth looking back your way with slowly whirling eyes.


Green Chawzscikath impressed to K'rl (Karl)

Of Life and Liberty Egg

Twisted metal wrinkles oddly across the surface of this somewhat irregular looking egg. An exact pattern is not easily discerned, the majority looks to be folds of metal, a smaller section towards one apex sprouts a handful of pointed spikes which dissolve back into the greater hue of this wrought egg. The surface bears not the shiny brightness of something new, but of that which is aged and worn, a copper green streaked by wind and rain and time. Weathered in heated sun and chilled in darkest moonless night it bears its burdens without complaint, enduring despite the tests time has given. It stands bold and firm, a rallying cry to those who might look upon this vision of something that is hard to render into words what the spirit contains in soaring brightness to light the land.

Mind Touches

One Life to Live takes in a deep mental breath rather dramatically. You can sense it is one strong of will and purpose as it strides upon and brushes along the edges of your thoughts. It does so in a way that is firm and curious, but not in any way bullying, pushing or forcing its way within. The edges of one's vision begin to go until the realization you might just be holding your breath along with the sense of the egg and in a whoosh air return and your thoughts are yours alone.

One Life to Live sweeps into your open thoughts at a hard gallop. A flurry of blurred color in all hues imaginable follow in its wake as if even light has a hard time catching up with the determination of this one. At least until it simply stops, puzzled a moment as if it lost the train of thought of where it was going. A crashing cascade of fireworks follows the rush of delight, oh yes, you! It was going to see what you were all about!

One Life to Live lingers as you do, but not for very long. There is only so much in the span of time it is allowed and there is yet so much more it must accomplish. It sweeps around considering the number of paths which lay before it. So many choices, so little time and yet there is a sense of faith and fate that it knows whatever choice it makes will be the /right/ one.


Green Reveth impressed to Tiansa (Tiansa)

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