Igen Hatching 2022

Characters Oddisa, E'stel, T'syn, Apheli, Ava, Dannissin, Ligeia, Saverio, Xinra
Synopsis Oriapeth and Roheith's eggs finally hatch and delightful chaos abounds.
Out-of-Character Date October 01, 2022

Hatching Sands, Igen Weyr
As if temperatures in the rest of the Weyr weren't uncomfortable enough, the sands are positively blistering. The air shimmers from the onslaught of heat, leaving the area with a hallucinatory feel. Black sands stand currently empty but for the occasional egg-shard or 'print not swept clear. A raised platform of smooth stone provides a lounging-spot for queens or their mates, or a retreat for the lifemates that accompany them from whence they can cool their feet somewhat.


A dark and cold winter night had the Weyr quiet, everyone tucked into their beds, and calm ease settled upon the red desert. Eggs conceived at the very height of summer heat have not made so much as a wiggle in a whole day. A chill wind slithered through the cracks on the hatching grounds, jostling a particular blotchy grey egg. Like dominoes, motion from one has become motion from all. A placid night was loudly interrupted by the trumpets of dragons and a loud hum that skittered through the walls. Oriapeth settles behind her eggs, wings draped down like a fiery gold cape, and her head in the rafters to obtain the best view. Dragons with riders hastily dressed begin to drop spectators; everyone's attire can attest to the hour. A few guests arrive in their night clothes and a few sporting shirts inside out or shoes that do not match or are untied. Oriapeth croons to everyone as they're dropped off, thrumming taking on a deep throaty sound as the Jr.ww Oddisa arrives wearing a black blouse, a gold firelizard beaded from hip to shoulder, and clean black pants. Anyone behind her will have to be patient as she's in late pregnancy and waddling. Best to go at her pace and avoid being eaten before this even begins. Turning around, she instructs loudly, "Bow to the sire and dam, keep your whits an' remember they're babies. They don't wanna hurt you." Treading through the sands, she makes her way to her lifemate off to the side, bowing deeply despite the extra weight and grinning up at her lifemate. "You honor me, sweet-heart, as always." The joyful memory of their union is visible on the bright face of the junior as she prepares to watch pernese magic.

Ligeia is with the others, of course, engaging in the customary bow with an expression that slants flat and inscrutable. It's a mask that's turned by necessity up to the galleries, her gaze seeking something - or someone, maybe more than one - before her attention cuts back to the clutchparents. Fingers twist a bit in the material at her sides, the fabric being tested for a moment or two before her hands drop.

Xinra shuffles onto the sands with the rest of the candidates and quickly drops into a sweeping bow. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. The weaver nearly stumbles but manages to catch himself. He scrubs a hand over his features, trying to shoo away the drowsiness. It doesn't immediately work. "Course it's the middle of the night…"

Ava was all at once ready and not ready for this moment, especially not at this hour but that heat under the sands reminds her that one way or another all of this would be over very soon. Her hands anxiously tap on the side of her robe, a billowing pillow that hung down to her calves. She felt childish in this sack and it set a whole new, darker mood to her countenance as she set across the hot sands towards the eggs with a sudden determination she had not had a moment a go, hot footing all the way. A bow is given to the clutch parents as she passes and settles herself into a spot on the sands.

Apheli is still brushing sleep from her eyes as she stumbles onto the sands with the rest of the candidates and drops a bow and then finds a place on the sands to wait. Her hands are gathered in her robes, belying a bit of nervousness about this entire situation.

With a subtle shimmy and mild shake Plain Outside Deadly Inside Egg jolts as if it's being kicked from inside. Chrissy wake up, I don't like this.

E'stel is no stranger to late night emergencies just usually not ones with so much pomp. The dark green shirt he had on is probably from the last hatching really, and fitting a little tightly. He pulls at the collar as he enters the heat of the sands and watches the Candidates shuffle in. Roheith is as happy as he can be, preening and standing a bit back from his mate, a ghostly glow behind her brilliance. He huffs at each of the candidates like a benevolent king, slightly less lordly when his lifemate enters.

The Devoid of Color Egg tremors as if the ground beneath it and only it is shaking. Are the cloudy forms within moving?

Wasting no time, Plain Outside Deadly Inside slam forward with force, and the entire shell explodes with cracks, tiny pieces flying out at the other eggs making a tinging sound as whatever is inside is tired of being cooped up.

Xinra shoots wary glances at the riders and then the eggs. Too late to turn back now…not that he would. He bites the inside of his cheek and shifts his feet on the sands, letting the heat seep into him. This is fine. Toooootally fine.

Ligeia is untroubled by the hour, the lack of sleep, the sheer abruptness of it all; it's not her first time 'round, after all, and it's not like sleep's been on the agenda for a while gauging from the shadows under her eyes. "I'd rather it be the middle of the night than in the middle of lunch," is obliquely tossed to Xinra. "At least we don't have to worry about kids running here and sicking up on the sands with anxiety." Ava and Dannissin are spotted, her fingers lifted to wiggle a welcome - but the eggs are moving and there's precious little time left to think before it really begins.

With a ginormous smash, Plain Outside Deadly Inside splits in half, the shell being forced open from within by a pale muzzle that creels in anger at its captivity. Whatever is inside unleashes upon the sands with a haughty snort of indignation before lunging forward into the world.

Came on a Pale Horse Bronze Hatchling

Sunbleached in the palest bronze. This hatchling is shaded precisely like its father, almost golden; the washed-out fellow is long and graceful. Muscular and powerful, he's got a long face and narrow eyes that keenly watch those around with a stiff upper lip revealing a level of disdain for the proceedings. Dapples flourish down a compact back, and long wings of hammered copper stick up awkwardly aloft. Built like a young runner with primal patinaed bronze stripes running up all four limbs, comparable to wearing socks. The low set of his head and bully look give the impression that he's not one to play games. Death is supposed to arrive on a pale horse, after all. The fellow quickly goes about sniffing and lunging at anyone in his way, a growl for his damn, which earns him a hiss and push from Oriapeth lands him directly on top of an older homely, looking young man with moppy brown hair. "Ackk! Helpp!" the screams are cut off as the dragon gurgles in shared pain, his hand raising as the talon marks begin to bleed. "Pharochith, of course, I'll be ok. You can totally call me A'stur" Impression is made. The new pair assisted off the sands by the Weyrlingmaster.

With a triumphant cry the Came on a Pale Horse Bronze Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

Dannissin enters with the other candidates, last in line and still running fingers through the sleep mussed tangles of her hair. She bows to the clutch parents, red locks falling over her shoulders, before quickly tying a ribbon whiter than her robe to secure her hair in a tail at the base of her skull. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand and moves to stand a few steps away from the others, too tired to even scowl at anyone. Ligeia gets a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as the first egg hatches and finds his person. Oh good. Not coming for her, then.

The Devoid of Color Egg almost seems to undulate now, a small rotation on the spot making a spiral in the sand. There's a CRACK! with a long hiss like steam escaping from the hatchling within. Fissures break along the egg's oblong form towards the apex.

A sleepy wave is passed to Ligeia and a thumbs up to the fellow candidate as eggs begin to shake, rattle and roll. "I mean, if you really want it I can put on a repeat performance from the touchings." Ava calls half heartedly but there's a thin, wicked grin before her attention is drawn to the first hatch and subsequent impression. Well, that was quick.

Oddisa settles in next to E'stel and offers him a hand. "Fancy seein' you here." Not that they didn't wake up next to one another, but she's enjoying the night as the eggs begin to wiggle. Settling in beside her weyrmate there's a bright smile, hands thrumming on her thighs as eggs begin to jump about. Oriapeth grumbles at her bronze son, giving him some help but chuffing in pride all the same as he finds his partner. With an elbow Odi gets E'stel in the ribs, "We got a pale bronze, how much didja bet again?"

Xinra didn't just curse under his breath. Nope. He definitely didn't. Nor did he flinch when all those pieces of eggshell went flying. "Ok, you've got a point there." The weaver nods at Ligeia, "Last thing we need adding to the chaos is….Yeah, I'm going to lose track of them all." But at least he's more awake now.

Ligeia exhales slowly. "Here we go." Another look strays galleries-ward, but whether she sees what she seeks or not is a mystery. Her feet shift and stir, the first impression noted in the periphery. "It's how it goes. Nothing and then everything. Breathe. Just remember to breathe." Is that for Xinra? For herself? Hard to say. Fingers go white-knuckled, tight fists held along her thighs before they release.

Long Memory of Violence Egg rocks back and forth, burrowing deeper into the dark sands upon which it rests. The thick, bark-like shell begins to wriggle and writhe, almost as if drawing itself apart. Perhaps, though, it is simply an effect of the extreme heat of the Hatching Sands, for a second glance shows it simply sitting there, as whole and solid as it was before - if perhaps a few inches to the left.

if Apheli wasn't awake before she certainly is now, watching as the first hatchling finds his lifemate on the sands. Good for him. She dances from foot to foot, the movement not really keeping the heat from the soles of her feet, but it makes her feel a little bit better about it, at least.

From the Depths Looking Up Blue Hatchling

As pale as his egg, this blue is barely that. Taking the look mostly from his sire clearly, he's almost ghostly in his appearance, a faint aqua sheen barely made out when up against anything actually white or off white in tone. Long sinuous limbs and neck give him an almost insect-like appearance, coupled with over large wings he looks exceptionally out of proportion. He would look wraith-like and gaunt if it weren?t for the lean muscle and baby fat that rounds out his belly and haunches like sculpted marble. Traces of cloudy dapples in a dusty aqua float between his wing joints on the broad sails and along his cresting top line. Coupled with his notched ridges he almost looks craggy along the top, like a mountain range. His snout is long and here and there the teeth almost seem to over shoot his lips in a crocodilian fashion. But what most gives the ghostly look to him is the almost luminescent glow of pale cyan hues along his belly, like he's being lit from below.

The Devoid of Color Egg erupts! Literally, the egg cracks out the top like some strange flower, the cloudy shards falling away as a snarling hiss emits from the hatchling within. It tumbles out onto the sands looking most relieved to be away from all that pressure and pulls itself up to gangly limbs. Billowy wings reach out unhelpfully to assist only for a foot to be put through a wing sail and the hatchling tumbles further along with another angry hiss. The hatchling rolls into a group of candidates who all scatter save one, a petite girl. Their eyes meet and a piteous creel emits from the long snout. "Oh Abyssoth! Yes, it's me… Atlanta. Hold still, silly. You're all tangled up." She reaches forward to help the blue untangle, Weyrlingmasters coming to assist before escorting them off the sands.

With a triumphant cry the From The Depths Looking Up Blue Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

Xinra tracks the departing pair, but only briefly. "Maybe we'll be lucky and they'll just go one at a time. Nice orderly line." His tone makes it clear that he doesn't believe that for a second. He pushes up to the balls of his feet then. "Ok breathing and…being alert. Got this."

E'stel smiles at his weyrmate, reaching to put an arm around her and pull her close along side. The bronzeling gets a happy rumble from his sire, catching E'stel's attention. "Well look at that!" He tries to do the calculations, "Well probably not as much as I should have! Oh look!" He nods towards the pale blue that's out of its shell. "Man… I may have to bet more often." Roheith humms encouragingly to his offspring, especially the somewhat gangly blue. "Oh dear… he's all… oh, wait. He's okay." E'stel murmurs.

Dannissin looks a little more aware as the Devoid of Color egg hatches, blinking hard a couple of times to clear the sleep from her eyes. A deep breath, not at all related to the reminder to breathe, and she lets it back out slowly, forcing tense shoulders down so that she doesn't look like she's trying to do an impression of a turtle. Here we go. Everything's fine. It's not like she hasn't done this before, after all.

Raging Behind in the Egg shivers, trapped magma upon its shell seeming to boil as searing oranges and golds catch upon new light. Though it quiets, it never really seems to still again, as though volcanic activity - once begun - can never quite cease.

Ligeia runs her tongue out to wet lips that have gone both dry and a little numb. Better to lick again, just to make sure; better to draw her lower lip into her mouth to suck on, maybe chew on a bit before she blows out a breath that hitches a little at the end. "Bronze, blue," recounted just under breath, hazel eyes sweeping and struggling not to dart; it'll just make her dizzy. "Maybe, maybe," follows on the heels of Xinra's words. Maybe, maybe. She has her doubts, though. Still: "The end always seems to come faster than the start." Wry, that.

Long Memory of Violence Egg shudders abruptly, and this time it's no mirage, no trick of heat and light to confuse the eye and mind. The egg begins to shudder, gnarled, moss-encrusted shell drawing in on itself until cracks begin to appear, night dark and menacing, as though what is found within is worse than any possibility found without.

Not Even Birdsong Egg shivers, just once, before going still again. If one isn't paying strict attention, they might even miss it.

Xinra stands very very still…before deciding that's probably a bad idea. He unlocks his knees and rolls his shoulders back. Especially with the eggs being a touch explodey. "Think it'll end without one of us being stabbed by a flying shell?"

Oh, there's Saverio and Ava's already shuffling towards her deserted desert companion and if it happens to put the healer closer to Oddisa well then that might just be coincidence. Should she be more concerned with eggs popping and dragons hatching? Very likely but the need for companionship seems more important as she settles in next to her friend with a soft elbow. There, now she can focus on the proceedings.

Raging Behind in the Egg BOOMS, one entire side of its shell streaking across the sands, shattering shards striking more than one candidate about their shins. Luckily, the egg is not as hot as it appears, or surely whatever was left behind would be baked to death. It twists and spirals angrily within the eggsac as it is, a sharp wrench causing it all to pitch sideways, the shell's dark remnants covering the hatchling within like a dome.

Apheli catches the movement of Not Even Birdsong Egg but it's stopped almost as quickly as it starts and she looks away to other eggs that are making more of a ruckus. The explosion of Raging Behind in the Egg catches her by surprise and she jumps about a mile as part of the shell goes flying, yet manages to keep her feet.

Dannissin snorts at Xinra's question, muttering a response under her breath that might be lost in the sound of exploding eggs, "We can only hope." Sarcastic? Maybe a little.

Xinra lets out a snort, "There's my answer." A few of the shells hit him square in the chest and he quickly brushes them away. "At this rate, I think we're /all/ going to be stabbed by flying eggshells."

Ligeia huffs out a breath, a half-laugh that struggles against the tight clench of her throat. "Usually I'm the one getting the brunt of that kind of thing." Of course, she's juuust far enough away to have dodged that opening volley. She'd knock on wood, but there's none to be found. "Guess I've just jinxed myself, though," and the eggs are eyed with a greater wariness than before.

Long Memory of Violence Egg seems to pulse once, twice, then abruptly vanishes in place, as though immolated by the figure which replaces it. A few shards and slivers of shell litter the ground, blackened and twisted as if charred, but the bulk of what once was has been consumed by that which now is. And from the scant remains of this ephemeral prison unfolds a vision of ethereal grace, alight with an astral glow that rejects the encroaching darkness of sky and sand. Summoned forth by fervent prayer and desperate pleas and the unceasing importunings of the masses, she comes to light the way forward. And as with all journeys, the way forward begins with a single step. Or, in her case, an undignified tumble.

A Fantasy of Wind and Flame Gold Hatchling

Sunset's timeless splendor dances across a narrow, wedge-shaped head, fire-wrought glory flowing in a molten stream along her svelte neck until it spills, incandescently roseate, over slender shoulders. Delicate lines indelibly etched in ruby are engraved around the barrel of her torso, feathering outwards in scarlet-edged flames that lick slyly from breastbone to belly. From flank to tail, the rich rose-tinged gold deepens to almost scarlet before paling once more to the purest of pinks at the tip of her broad tail. Long, slim legs end in graceful paws, each finger and toe tipped by a pearlescently aureate talon that glitters with each dancing step she takes. From her shoulders fly free elegant sails of the purest rose-gold, stretching between tawny spars so radiantly luminous they are nearly white in hue. The trailing edge of each sail is gently scalloped, rising and falling in subtle arcs that tease the eye into seeing feathers where none exist. Amidst this fiery, sinuous glory is a single discordant note; the neckridges that march in almost mathematical precision from headtip to the base of her tail are blackened along the edges, shading from amber to a charred crimson along the edges. Yet, even this dissonance, however at odds with the rest of her aureate splendor, harmonizes with the captivating hymn that is this diminutive yet mighty being.

Oriapeth croons at her two new children, somehow the eggs seemed to have drained the color from the hatchlings. Ah well, maybe it's just due to being created during the height on an igen summer, sunbleaching. Oddisa leans back against E'stel and bounces up to nail him in the chiin with her jaw, not hard but enough to get his attention. "A bronze first, an' a blue… I don' think the rest are greens but they're decent looking beasts. Didja see the stripes on the bronze? Shards he was pretty." She's not one for formality and she isn't starting today. As the talk of flying eggshells occurs Odi snickers loudly, covering her mouth but giving the group a sarcastic-yet-loving eye roll. This is stopped mid-sentence as Long Memory Of Violence Hatches, "Look.. LOok!" Pointing at the gold, "Acck! I'm not gettin' pregnant every hatching for one but, good work loves." The junior smacks her lifemate and then her weyrmate and if there's anyone else nearby needing a smack she's got one for them too

T'syn is so not in range for a smack. He'll make sure of it. Nice try, though.

Xinra lets out a chuckle, though that immediately gets cut short. His mouth drops open slightly as he stares at the gold…and then quietly but quickly starts stepping away from the women. "Just gonna stand over /here/."

Too Great a Destiny Brown Hatchling

This big, stocky brown looks more like he was bred for rugged mountain terrain than a life spent coursing over dunes of sand, hide struck with wildling patterns both light and dark. They twist and twine over fine nostrils and a strong brow before going smooth, cloaking his neck and back in solid sepias broken only by shallow stoney pockmarks. Rootmarks creep in around clavicles, pushing up pauldron-strong shoulders and binding broad wings up in their thrall, an insidious sprawl that threatens to expose some inner dichotomy. Strong legs have been stained by his time in the shell, bleeding to black, smattered with smoke and ash. Molten copper veins burst from the space between toes, cracking up both wrists, magmic shards trapped, forever glowing, upon his paws. This same flaming shade slices across the lower lids of fierce eyes, marking this otherwise plain creature as one worthy of wary concern.

Raging Behind in the Egg is finally defeated, once and for all. With a screech, the hatchling previously trapped beneath its dark arch pushes out from beneath it, shaking hard in an attempt to rid itself of clinging sand. It doesn't work - if anything, it makes matters worse as the motion tips him back over into the sand's embrace again. HISS. "Ah, shards." A rather resigned young man parts from the crowd of candidates, summonned by the hatchling judging from the fierce meeting of their gazes. A beat, two, and then, "I know, Anarth, I know. I hate the sand, too. There's no escaping it here though, I'm afraid. Hmm? Yes, of course I'll be your I'ver. Let's get you fed." Before things can get worse.

With a triumphant cry the Too Great a Destiny Brown Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

Dannissin lets out a soft breath as the next egg hatches, "Oh." Well, isn't she pretty. The petite woman just stands there, though, folding her arms across her chest and trying to watch everywhere at once. All she really manages to do is go cross-eyed. Not the best idea.

The battle continues in the skies of the futures ancient enemy egg. What has laid in a still mosaic of color comes suddenly to life in a fearful tremble. Thread, /thread/ seems to lick hungrily at the shell despite the best efforts of Pern's defenders and the shell begins to crumble beneath such a feared enemies onslaught.

E'stel's brow furrows. "Are they all going to be pale?" An annoyed huff behind him. "No of course not, buddy. Just unusual that's all." Though Roheith himself had hardly been the only pale one in his clutch. The bump from Oddisa has him pulling his head up out of firing range, but not without a gentle squeeze of his arm. "Yes, absolutely beautiful." The appearance of the gold has everyone's attention though, the bronzer grinning ear to ear. "Haha! Good job, my boy." He pats Roheith's tail tip that's curled around behind them. The bronze preens again and rumbles softly to Oriapeth. They did good.

The pretty, dainty gold catches Apheli's eye as she continues to look around the hatching sands. "Oh, so gorgeous," she whispers. She keeps trying to look at everything happening but there's just too much to see, although she does wince as the stocky little brown falls over before finding his lifemate.

Xinra really enjoys this spot of sand. It's a wonderful spot honestly. The view's great! He scans the candidates, eggs, and dragons. Yup, /perfect/ view. A nice cocktail and lounge chair would be great though. Unfortunately, neither materializes.

Bits of the futures ancient enemy egg flick onto the sands, one piece singeing against the bare leg of a watching candidate. He cries out and shakes it off, retreating from the egg which surges in life in evils devouring. Is there no hope? What is about to be unleashed upon the world?

Ligeia ohs, though there's no sound to it; just the rounding of a mouth that's forgotten how to make sound. Another look to the galleries follows, dart-quick and wide-eyed, before she seems to remember herself and knot fingers into the fabric of her robe again. The brown's hatching and hasty Impression doesn't escape her notice, though, and she joins in those that send congratulations that way. "Bronze, blue, gold, brown." Seven to go, the number tapped out by her toes in the sand when they're able to be mostly still.

Saverio inches closer to Ava, lightly elbowing her in the side. "I pity who gets the gold, the new novelty makes all the weirdos come out and what to get to know the girl with a quickness." Of course, gold or no gold, Saverio wants to get to know all the girls. Equal opportunity and stuff. One after another, the hatchlings come and go, and they're is still safety in their corner. From what he's told, when the dragon knows who it wants, no amount of hiding on the sands is going to change that. So, with that in mind, safety corner is safe.

Not Even Birdsong Egg emits soft sounds that just might hint that its shell is cracking, but alas, its shell is so dark that it is nearly impossible to confirm this is true. Only those nearby might note that the red string that surrounds its entire shell has been severed, newly-parted ends now resting inches apart.

A Fantasy of Wind and Flame Gold Hatchling lays there, muzzle buried in the sands as she blinks in some confusion at the array of white-clad bodies clustered before her. Slowly, carefully, she extracts herself from the ground and pushes herself up, coming to her feet with a wobbly grace that quickly stabilizes into something more befitting her radiant splendor. Tossing her head back, she eyes the Candidates around her as if daring them to say one word about what absolutely did not just happen. No? Good. With a mutter that might be better called a musical squawk, she begins to pad in a rapid outward spiral, seeking something illusive that calls to her on the night wind.

Ava passes a hand across the back of her neck, lifting the mass of hair off of her skin in the sweltering heat. The egg and goo are at least not as bad as the bird poop incident but shards it's hot and there is entirely too much to keep up with at once. "Make sure you dont get turned into a weirdo then, or impress the gold." Her reply is a sly snicker, the troublemakers at the back of the class. "Or maybe.."

Xinra exhales, cheeks puffing up in the process. The heat must be starting to get to him because a few beads of sweat roll down his forehead. His gaze darts between the newly arrived gold and the eggs. The candidate's brows pull together, "That egg…" Maybe it was just his imagination.

What is left of the futures ancient enemy's shell seems to just dissolve, the hissing threads vaporizing beneath the defenders flame to a stalemate from which the occupant is released. It doesn't want to be a pawn of either side, angry red eyes and a defiant bugle mark this tiny hatchlings as fierce but independent!

Night of the New Moon Forest Green Hatchling

The quiet forest etched upon this tiny lady's hide belies the inner fire that burns fiercely. Long green poles of bamboo sprout from arms and legs, bending into the agile length of her neck and forming the frame of her wingspars. A few fallen pieces lay horizontal to the rest framing the slender length of her tail which is ever more dexterous than the patterning might imply. Amidst the common green bamboo variety a few stalks of rarer red bamboo sprout. These tender shoots wrap bangles around ankle and wrist, while more aged stalks form a thin collar about the base of her neck, cinch her waits and entangle like ribbon in the wind around pointed neck ridges. From her wingspars a tangle of green fronds mesh together to become the elegant stretch of narrow sails. The thin membrane and wing structure clearly giving this one a high level of agility to spin and dodge about the clouds. The hues of her body are rather dark and muted, for unlike many other greens so flashy and bold, the forest upon her hide echoes the quiet depth of a moonless night. A star speckled sky somewhere far distance above provides only a dim light through the woven wing membrane, kissing the largest of the bamboo poles and leaving the rest to fade into darkness. Depthless as her hide seems, it feels almost as if something unnatural is hiding in those shadows. The darkness is matched in ebon talons which seem to almost absorb any light. Lower arms, legs and her drawn underbelly also seem caught at times in a dark shadowy smoke leaking from the depths of the forest. However, surely its purely illusion, right?

Oddisa watches the tiny gold darling with wide eyes, "She's sorta bossy. Don't know where she'd get that from." NAh, no one knows where the attitude originates in this family. Comfortable where she's at Oriapeth leans down, head in the sand waiting for her gold miniature to stand. Once the little queen is up the clutch dam retreats with an approving whuffle, thrumming deep in her rose gold chest for the new addition to the Weyr. As a green appears there's a sigh, "Ahh, always liked the greens. Always wanted a blue when I was younger." Lucky Ori is busy, and T'syn will get his smacks eventually

Saverio tilts his head to Ava, smirking. "As confident as I am with the ladies, I'm pretty sure even that gold is out of my league." He laughs, returning his gaze to the new hatchlings taking the scene. He has nothing to worry about as far as the gold hatchling, golds favor female counterparts exclusively. The rest are still suspect.

Ligeia shifts her weight again out of necessity; she's starting to dig her feet into the sand and that's no bueno. She pulls her feet up and moves back slightly, leading to a stumble that might normally be a fall were it not for another candidate with quick thinking and quicker hands. "Sorry, thanks. Sorry," hasty apologies made to the face of someone who looks strung out on stress. Her smile helps, but then it's all eyes on the hatchlings and those yet to be. "Oh, look at her. First green." Will there be others? She's here to speculate, spectate, and participate. She has no marks in the game, so speculation is cheap.

Xinra scuttles sideways, causing sand to filter through his sandals. He wrinkles his nose at the sensation before finding himself near Saverio and Ava. "Aren't we all weirdos already?" He definitely is. What grown man /scuttles/?

Dannissin just stands back, shuffling her feet against the heat of the sands. Slowly, her shoulders hunch in on herself, cautiously watching the hatchlings and eggs. Nothing to see here, folks.

Haunted Wood Green Hatchling

A deep, lustrous green swarms this dragon's hide, dark shadows limning her every edge, as though she were a figment of her egg's own growing mind made flesh. Indeed, she stretches and sprawls into sometimes impossible angles, too many limbs double-jointed for comfort - but then, comfort is hardly what she is built for. Not a scrap of fat exists upon her lean body, sharp bones easily visible at her every edge, headknobs as hard and pointed as the bladed ridges that form her spine. Her only softness comes in the form of pale sprites and spirits that dance upon her hide, foxfire brought to shimmering realization over stark ridges and translucent wings. These marks are mottled around their edges, sometimes smokey, sometimes fuzzy, no two souls presenting the same, individuality important to the very end.

Not Even Birdsong Egg simply sloughs apart, allowing the hatchling within to move through it as though she were a ghost. Her every motion seems to support this claim, dark hide glimmering damply as she floats aimlessly through the throngs. A sandaled foot is observed here, a hand sniffed there, a long, oddly-jointed tail brushing coldly against the backs of knees, but she doesn't seem to know where she's going… until suddenly, terrifyingly, her head turns and turns and turns, body going stock still as she peers over her shoulder at one male in particular. Gulp. "Y-yes, Sphyrtath, of… of course I know what it tastes like. F-flesh, I mean. Except it's usually cooked, of course, ah… C-come along, your T'ish will show you where they keep it."

With a triumphant cry the Haunted Wood Green Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

A Fantasy of Wind and Flame Gold Hatchling is growing impatient, and with each moment, her gait grows faster until she's nearly galloping from Candidate cluster to Candidate cluster. Her head is shoved here, and there, and everywhere, and more than one Candidate has found themselves inadvertently flashing those about them as she drags the hem of their robe up during her inspections. She has no use for their histrionics, however, ignoring the chatter and cries of alarm as she wheels in place and dashes off to the next group. There has got to be someone out there worthy of calling to her service… doesn't there?

Swish, swish, Globular Expansion Egg subtly pushes forward with a gentle press toward better waters. The pink shell subtly tremors, the surface undulating before ceasing all movement.

E'stel chuckles at the burly brown. "That's a fellow… They sure are some opinionated ones aren't they?" This is no less of the gold and her demanding manner. "Like her momma." He muses, giving Oddisa another squeeze and a fond look to Ori. Roheith is continuing to rumble encouragement, watching Oriapeth's concern for their little gold daughter. When the dark green appears he gives his lifemate a look. "Okay okay! They're not all pale." But to Oddisa, "I got a couple though." An another green! "A blue huh? I could see that a little… but I think you got the right mate." A wink.

Night of the New Moon Forest Green Hatchling lands upon all fours digging into the sands as wings flare, relishing release from her long confinement. Confusion follows as eyes focus upon this new world, looking up and around she is silenced a moment before she takes a leap behind the nearest object, another egg. Her small form is momentarily hidden but she peeks out curiously with a soft chirp. Eh, she didn't do it, whatever it is, totally wasn't her.

Woosh ~woosh, Globular Expansion Egg dives forward, flopping back and forth like a fish on land. As it shimmies several inches through the sand, several pieces of shell flake off, revealing bits of the pearl inside.

Ligeia recites the colors to herself again, with a wary eye for those that haven't even begun to twitch. Better not to dwell on it, though, not with another green bursting free and hastily seizing her chosen. Scraps of conversation filter her way and while her nose wrinkles, there is a grin for the idea of what's said - and what's only implied. Terrible, terrible, but blame it on the author-to-be in her. Still. There's the gold and green on the roam - and the gold's nosiness earns a bark of laughter that's quickly stifled behind her hands. "Guess she's gotta check the goods somehow," is blissfully muffled behind her hands.

Xinra bites his tongue, and backsteps a bit when the gold hatchling starts dashing around. "Hope she doesn't trip. Again." His gaze darts towards the dark green hatchling and then over to that shimmying egg. "Some of them explode, some of them dance…."

Oh, confident is the word you're going with?" Ava's chin lifts with a careful lift of her brow, a sly grin crossing her face before her eyes shift and she give an accepting nod as Xinra joins their cluster. "Aye, landed here all together so we must be." And, why not, the new counterpart to their lot earns a friendly elbow from the healer as well, the other hooking into Saverio's.

Saverio snorts and preens, despite being hot/gross/sticky/discheveled on the sands. "Confident is definitely the word I'm going with." Just as confident of the fact he's on the sands in a fresh robe, only, the edge of it might be accidentally tucked into the back his boxers. Y'ALL SAW NOTHING. He turns to Xinra with a sigh. "Man, it's hot in here. Least there's a tiny breeze."

A Fantasy of Wind and Flame Gold Hatchling abruptly skids to a halt, spraying the nearest Candidates with sand as she draws herself up on her haunches, spreading her wings to their fullest. The night wind whistles along their scalloped edges, causing them to flutter lightly and creating a soft trilling sound. For the first time, she is still. Perhaps for the last time, she is still. There. There! Abruptly she wheels, kicking sand over a knot of Candidates nearby. Her talons bite into the ground as she sprints across the grounds towards a particular young woman with long black curls, hazel eyes, and a future writ large and bright in all of the stars of past, present, and future. As she skids to a halt before her chosen partner, she wraps those glittering wings about them both and gazes deep into the eyes of her One True Lifemate.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Fantasy of Wind and Flame Gold Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Flip, flop, BANG. Globular Expansion Egg falls apart, melting off its hostage the shards so minuscule its as if its disintegrated in the Igen heat. Shell pieces crumble in a neat circle around the seas hidden treasure. Fashionably late, she may be, but you could never accuse her of being anything but punctual.

Prismatic Phosphorescent Eternity Green Hatchling

Distractingly beautiful, the light loves this green. She utilizes every wavelength to maximum efficiency along her fluid deep jadeite frame; broad strokes of glassy seafoam flow expertly over broad predominant eye ridges and high cheekbones. Blooms of sun-washed pine darken her snippy muzzle that would detract from her overall appearance if not for the eye-catching shimmer of bronze and gold as if she were a living sunbeam beneath the surface. Swaths of mint subtly overlay a tapestry of yellow, red, and blue that roll, shift, and disappear like a sheen of oil is always in place across her body. Swatches of the finest pine silk flow effortlessly in marbled effervescent from pine to mint, a fabric half dyed and still wet clinging to her tapered neck. Narrow shoulders and high withers push her upright, the perfect model for an unparalleled outfit. Lithe, strong forelimbs allow for sweeping, ground-covering motion, and pistachio swirling with marbled emerald overpowers the subtler colors as each of the darker sections seems to glow with even the barest touch of Rukbat's rays. Long and thin, no amount of feed will ever hide her ribs, whose subtle outline undulates like liquid opal. Expertly sculpted from smooth ice, her pale green wings are sweeping and gauzy. The color washes out and reveals hints of chrome and silver along the translucent sails, each supporting finger lighter than the next creating an ombre effect when fully open. Moss begins to mingle with her pearly form along muscular haunches, contrasting to add balance to such a beauty. The color pulsates with inner phosphorescence with mesmerizing malachite talons and a slender tail of midnight fir.

The Birth of Mankind's End Egg rocks to and fro, spinning in a slow circle and pulsing in time with the efforts of the hatchling within. Every shudder causes the misshapen lumps to bulge and bubble, giving the sickening impression of something viscous boiling.

Night of the New Moon Forest Green Hatchling seems to be in the clear and moves with light steps towards a cluster of candidates. Don't they look /fun/! She slips around Ava's side, really are you paying attention now and gets a glance at the behind as she comes to rest between Saverio and Xinra. Are we dressed properly for the occasion now? The swirl of her red eyes picks up as she reaches toward a certain robe as if to give it a tug, while flailing limbs might just accidentally brush the other nearby candidates.

Xinra doesn't bother hiding the smirk on his features, "It is /definitely/ too hot. Looks like you made yourself a bit of a vent hole though?" He lifts his brow at Saverio's robe and then his gaze darts away. there are far too many things happening at once. His eyes trace the outline of the new green, which causes him to startle when the other appears behind them. "Oh shhhh….sho helpful." Another curse stifled.

Dannissin's eyes track the gold, grimacing at the sand thrown up in her hasty run toward… someone else. Good. From what she's seen since she first stepped foot into a Weyr, golds are too much work. Too big and far too many responsibilities for running things. If she'd wanted to have to do paperwork all day, she'd have just stayed home.

Saverio does indeed flail and he does his best not to smack Ava in the face. He reaches out, grasping onto Xinra's shoulder. "Hey now! None of that til you take me out to dinner first!" That's how it's supposed to go, right? Gotta keep it romantic. Clearly, he's alarmed and doing his best to keep a straight face, though it's twitching with some difficulty. Oriapeth is given an anxious look. Help!

"Oy!" Who goosed the moose and other fun stories brought to you by little greens. Ava jolts forward with a lurch as the green slip around them all. "Sweethear, -you can't have three now that's just greedy-" The redhead is laughing nervously as she skitters out of the little /darlings/ way. Then she notices The Robe. "Almost a full moon tonight, Saverio?"

At least he's wearing new and non-holey boxers!

Non-holey- /for now/!

Ligeia is, for a moment, frozen. Another look darts to the galleries, only to be arrested in mid-movement and leave her head cocked at a curiously canine angle. The slow return to center brings with it a different kind of alignment, one that locks suddenly wet hazel eyes with rapidly whirling blue. Her throat cramps in a contraction of emotion that can only birth itself through the sudden streaming of tears. The compulsion to kneel is less out of desire and more out of necessity; to stand is to fall. At least kneeling brings her closer to the wing-wrought embrace, sticky as it may be. Her robe is released of its duty as a source of comfort, for her hands are quick to stroke over egg-slick hide instead. "Verzhuqueth." Breathy. Soft. Reverence defines the syllables; a prayer in all but name alone. "There's food, it's- um. It's over- here, I have to get up to show you." Not that she wants to.

Xinra lets out a quiet bark of laughter and helps steady Saverio with one arm. "You sure you want her idea of dinner? I imagine it involves a lot of blood." And that's when he catches sight of Ligeia and her new lifemate. There's a bright from the pair…but apparently, he's decided to stay very /very/ still. No need to distract the green from Saverio's boxers!

Prismatic Phosphorescent Eternity Green Hatchling shucks off the goo force field that trapped her for such a long time, stepping out of the wreckage with her head held high like a Lord Holder's favorite child, she takes two steps with wet wings dragging and rocks back with displeasure. Swiveling her head around, body making a perfect C shape, there's a red-faceted glare at the limbs, a hiss to try and get them to cooperate with the program. That doesn't help, so she changes tactics; deciding that her cape for wings might be the newest accesory, she steps slowly and purposefully toward the group with small chirps that are intended to be comforting and kind. Each step is tricky as the wings aren't cooperating, leaving a trail behind the dragonet like a train on an elaborate dress.

Night of the New Moon Forest Green Hatchling looks totally innocent. What's a few holes between friends? Her gaze shifts between the three but as fun as this game is there's something lacking to which she must find elsewhere. She'll have to catch up with you all in the barracks later, but with your own partners should that be fates design. For today she slips away like a shadow, the red deepening in her eyes as she senses where she needs to be, with whom she needs to be ever so glad that person didn't decide to just stay home. Talons flexing, with a fluted note she reaches her chosen and eyes cast their bonding spell to be one forever.

Why's It Sticky? Egg trembles, quakes, tacky tendrils collecting sand as it tilts slowly to one side. It quivers there from time to time, undulating nauseatingly out of the corner of one's vision.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Night of the New Moon Forest Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

The Light Never Touches This Egg, and in the dead of the night, this has never been so true. In the darkness, it blends in with the sands, and there's barely a hint of where it lays upon the Hatching Grounds. And yet, there's a glint; not light, but something sharp and metallic. Did it twitch? Maybe.

Well, no one else is going to do it, so T'syn will. Muttering under his breath at losing the bet - and the apprentice - he hops down from the platform and trudges across the Sands towards Ligeia. Despite his grumpy expression, he's gentle as he gives her a slight bow. "Congratulations, Ligeia," he says softly. "If you would permit me, I will escort you and your lady to where the food is." Once a harper, always a harper.

Xinra's snark quiets, his eyes going a touch wide at the new green on the sands. A smile plays on his lips at the fashion show, and boy does he approve. "We should have capes too…though I guess that's a safety hazard." His shoulders relax a touch as the darker green slips away. It's a touch easier to breathe now, though still unbearably hot.

Oh yes, /that egg/, that sticky, sickly egg. Ava is recovering herself as it quakes and she's quick to depart as far away from it and its possible inhabitant as she can. She on the other side of her little group now, hands dusting the robe as her gaze falls to Ligeia with a warm smile. LAter, she would catch up and congratulate her later.

Oddisa begins to laugh at the poor candidate, shaking her head as Oriapeth is busy following the hatchlings to care about lost underpants. Calling out to Saverio she says, "I'd come help but I'm not allowed." She's far to pregnant to be saving candidates from showing their twigs and berrys to the world. "Shards, I'd of paid marks for him to lose his shorts." A small chuckle and she's back to watching the goings on, looking up at E'stel with a glassy look and wincing mildly before shaking her head and going back to the sands.

Saverio lets out a heavy sigh of relief, tugging his robe into MORE DECENT arrangement. There might be a few holes here and there, thankfully, everything meant to be private is still private. He shakes his head in disbelief, blue eyes glancing between Xinra and Ava. "She was a little too forward for my tastes. I like a little romance before hand." The other green is eyed suspiciously, he's less afraid of their appearance and more afraid of what these leading ladies are capable of!

Ligeia is ever-so-grudging about getting to her feet - but the shared gnawing hunger in her gut is as good a goad as any to actually get her moving. She returns the bow to T'syn, but her expression's at the far opposite end of the emotional spectrum. She's all delirious smiles at the moment, while Verzhuqueth cleaves tight to her side. "Thanks, T'syn. Thanks- I- her name's Verzhuqueth." Words? What are those? She's gone a little incoherent - perhaps understandably so. Where the man leads, she'll follow.

The Birth of Mankind's End Egg begins to open, webbing parting as the bulging bulbs begin to crack and craze. Egg goo begins to drip from the various fissures, only adding to the impression of a gigantic mass of pus-coated eyes staring crazily about them. Lovely.

E'stel chuckles softly at the green harassing the candidates. "Well better than a limb." He muses. That would have been an interesting turn, dragon-induced pantsing on the sands. The bronze looks about curiously but its too late. The green in question has found her match. Dignity crisis averted. E'stel does catch the look in Oddisa's eyes however, frowning a moment. "You okay? Need some water?" It's pretty sharding hot after all. He's at this point oblivious to the sweat.

Dannissin stops breathing. Just stops. And then a gasp, shuddering in her lungs, as she nods, "I hear you." Wait… "Danni?" Is that her? One hand tentatively reaches out to touch the little green and she. Is. Done for. "Oh, Xia. Yes. Of course. Hiraeth. We'll get you fed. Right away."

Xinra stares at The Birth of Mankind's End Egg with absolute horror. "Nope." He shakes his head, eyes searching around to find something, /anything/ more pleasing. Just NOPE. His eyes end up back on the newly minted pair and he elbows Saverio lightly. "Looks like she'll be taking someone else out to dinner. Lucky you."

Prismatic Phosphorescent Eternity Green Hatchling has swagger, moving with a stride suited for high fashion. She's made this mild blunder into a confident ground-covering stride with pearly head held high, stopping before a redhead; there's a squeak of greeting and a head tilt. Leaning up at the wild curls, she examines every inch of the girl, and there's a waffly sigh as she's not got any time today for a makeover; bouncing along the group, she pauses every few steps to get her bearings again and try and fix these darned wings. Props are so much work, and it's clear despite all the bravado, the shimmering green is feeling a tad lost on these big sands.

The Light Never Touches This Egg stays true to its name; there is little indication that its not simply another lump of sand. Then it twitches noticeably; the glint grows stronger, more malevolent, and there are far more eyes shining in the darkness than were there before. And two of them - two of them just might be whirling, tinged red from hunger. And yet the darkness still holds.

Why's It Sticky? Egg cracks long and ponderously, the terrible nails-on-chalkboard scraping of claws audible over the din of the sands. For all that effort, little comes of it but a single crevice, one that exposes hide that's pale and dark by turns. It's almost as if the hatchling within were signaling something, delivering a message in code.

"Oh capes, dinner lounge chairs, drinks. Drats did we find capes in that one tent?" Oh well, all of these can be obtained after this chao is over and by the way her pale skin has flushed as red as her hair, for the healers sake she hopes its sooner rather than later. One hand sets to fanning but it stops to shoot a thumbs up to Dannissin-Danni?

Saverio takes a moment to run his fingers through his messy blond hair, eyes glued to the sands. There's still a green out there to watch out for and a couple eggs left. He does take a moment to peer over to Oddisa, a look on his face complete with horror and morbid curiosity. What kind of dragons did you make, lady?! A sound gets his attention and his eyes shoot back to the sands. He does tilt his head towards Xinra, though, "Lucky, lucky, lucky me."

And it's back out again, this time to help Dannissin as she meets her new lifemate. T'syn smiles faintly at her and gestures towards the side of the sands where several new Weyrlings have already gone. "Congratulations, weyrling," he says, not quite as certain of this one's name as the other. "If you'd like to feed her, it's just this way."

Xinra can't help but wince at the sounds coming from some of the eggs. A shudder runs up his spine before he pries his eyes open again and rubs at one ear. "I feel like the dragons are finding elaborate ways to torture us." Some, not all. Another smirk is thrown at Saverio but then his gaze drifts back to a more pleasing visage. He'll just track the light green's progress…at least she doesn't seem to be leaving destruction in her wake? Yet.

Danni nods, jerkily, and takes a deep breath, "Yeah. Food. Food is good." She still looks stunned, one hand resting lightly on Hiraeth's head, "Come on. Lets get you fed." Before she tries to eat someone.

Oddisa is not responsible for the content of the eggs, and made sure everyone signed a form before attending this event. If yo udon't remember signing that's on you. To E'stel there's a shrug, "I'm fine, better than them that's for sure." Pointing to the candidates getting examined and covering one ear at the loud shriekish noise. SHeesh, there's a glance at both clutch parents who are totally the suspects to blame

Saverio turns to Xinra, tilting his head to the green. "If I'm lucky, she'll think you're cuter." Then he doesn't have to worry about losing the rest of his clothes!

Roheith happily takes responsibility. At least for the pale ones.

An Experiment Gone Awry Bronze Hatchling

Shadows chase themselves across hollows and through crannies, streaking along sides and slithering down shoulders and withers to encase this hatchling in the darkest bronze imaginable, one step shy of true black. Only the faint glimmer of shine beneath the sable saves him from being a being of pure fantasy. Faceted eyes whirl beneath heavy, brooding eyebrows, and the ridges adorning his head and neck spike every which way but up, tawny gold and shockingly bright against the obdurate obsidian of his hide. Bulky paws are tipped with ebony talons, and his tail is a massive thing, broad and flat and shining a dull gunmetal bronze that seems worn along the edges, chipped and tattered and just a bit threadbare, but still keen enough to cause some damage. His wings seem almost an afterthought, an extension of the shadows that make up the bulk of his immensity, inexplicably delicate and almost translucent in their thinness, as if they dont even truly exist.

The Birth of Mankind's Egg shatters beneath the pressures from within, releasing the hatchling within upon the world. Big and bulky and undeniably bronze, this hatchling bursts from his shell in an explosion of shrapnel and snarls. As the shards of his prison rain down upon the sands about him, he coils in on himself, brooding, ignoring the white-clad Candidates nearby as he sulks into the sand. Finally, however, the internal urgings of hunger combined with that inescapable need for a lifemate drive him out of the detritus of the destruction he has wrought. Perhaps to make up for time wasted in morose moping, he surges forth, knocking aside two Candidates and nearly trampling a third underfoot before slamming shoulder-first into a barrel-chested boy abducted from Igen Hold's guardsmen. "Strith!" yells Berat - now B'rat, "Watch where you're going, soldier!"

With a triumphant cry the An Experiment Gone Awry Bronze Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

Ava, still vigorously fanning, chuff slightly. " It- oh hello there-" The green is eyed cautiously, a clench in her chest cinching tighter before it passes with the little green. "What, not wanting to be confident with the green little lady?" Ava swallows harshly, her gaze following the little dragonette fumbling as she goes. "Poor little thing."

Xinra throws a saucy grin at Saverio, "All I'm hearing is that I'm cute." Very selective hearing he has there. His gaze eventually wanders away to the bronze and relief floods his features when that goes to someone else. Thank Faranth. That egg was…terrifying.

Prismatic Phosphorescent Eternity Green Hatchling wanders forward, examining every girl in the group and deflating when whatever she is looking for doesn't appear. There are a few moments of despair, sinking and staring up at the ceiling as if it could provide answers. When that doesn't work, the tiny sun sprite pulls herself together and strides forward past a few boys, shuffling backward and then raising with bubbly excitement. As the angular hair and high cheekbones bring sudden recognition, she extends her neck out and places her nose on the man, running her silken nostrils from the crease of his mouth to his earlobe and back. She would know him anywhere; he's the one destined to spend all of time with her. Everything stops, the world pausing as the two beings share this moment as if no one else exists. After all, every good weaver needs a second eye for clarity. Right?

With a triumphant cry it seems that the Prismatic Phosphorescent Eternity Green Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

E'stel winces a little at the shriek, giving the candidates a look. "Okay," He murmurs to Oddisa, "If you're sure. Don't push it though. I can get you something if you need." He strokes her back gently as a dark dark bronze emerges. "Wow." Dark and light… and a green in between it seems.

Room 237 Egg snickts and snackts and makes a generally alarming racket before settling back into the sand's heated embrace. Soon, soon

Why's It Sticky? Egg shatters abruptly outwards from its mysterious fracture, one clawed foot bursting from the hole made in its shell. Further splits and cracks weaken the egg with brutal precision, as though intent on not just freeing itself, but destroying the thing that caged it along the way. It lasts far longer than one might expect before finally dank, creepy tentacles slap sickeningly to the sands on either side of a damp hatchling.

A Scholar's Consequence Blue Hatchling

It is not this blue's appearance that defines him, a creature of lapis hide cloaked in celestial delights - it is his comportment of self that takes what would be whimsical in any other beast and lends it peculiar intensity. He appears to be carved from bold blue stone, a taut pull upon his features rendering him both striking and severe. Bands of ice-white and near-grey alternate dominance in their sweep over intelligent eyes, striating the long, proud arch of his neck before their meteoric streaks burn out upon the voluminous expanse of his wings. Starry candescence lights his lower jaw, swathing throat and belly in subtle brilliance. Limbs are deceptive in their slow descent into night-darkness, thin but strong and seemingly-plain except for the stark press of sinew and bone against hide. It is only when one observes him as a greater picture than his parts, however, that they might realize he's painted as a predator: marbled above, pale below, a mistake the unlucky might only make once.

Come and Play With Me Green Hatchling

Set beneath narrow, inward canted eyeridges, keen eyes whirl, observing the world about her with a slightly maniacal air. Her muzzle, slightly cockeyed at the edges, is cast in a perpetually amused smirk. The slender curve of her neck flows into a narrow, delicate chest, uniformly pale but for a ruff of mint and silver feathering about her slim shoulders. Pistachio hide is smooth and unblemished, with traces of lilac here and heather there, iridescent glints like oil on water. Broad, expansive wings are scintillatingly emerald, with hints of amethyst and sapphire tracing patterns upon the thin sails up to the trailing edges, which are dipped in the richest gold. Narrow waisted and unabashedly feminine among dragonkind, her slender frame carries through to the whip length of her tail. She moves with a remarkable fluidity, slender limbs wrought of grace, as though even as she walks, she floats, never quite landing solidly upon the ground.

The Light Never Touches This Egg, but the same cannot be said for that which is inside. All that is within must come out, and with a final heave, the hatchling within shatters through the oppressive darkness, spilling onto the sands with a forlorn cry. A tangled tumble of pale hide and iridescent wings, she remains still for a brace of moments, gathering her breath and her courage. Finally, she untangles herself from the remains of the egg, spreading a glory of multi-hued wings and giving voice to another lonely shriek, her voice echoing madcap from the arching stone of the Grounds. Around her, Candidates slap their hands to their ears, cringing - but one, perhaps with more bravery than sense, runs towards her. "Anlath! Anlath! Enough! The nightmare is ended!" Tyrbek reaches out bravely to touch her lifemate's face. "Now our dreams can begin."

With a triumphant cry the Come and Play With Me Green Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

Xinra's snark falls to the wayside. /Everything/ falls to the wayside. Everything except the green in front of him. His eyes drift closed and he reaches up, slender fingers tracing the dragonet's jaw. He quickly becomes lost in this new world, but the demand for food is more than enough to drag him out of their universe and back to the sands. "Right, we can /absolutely/ get you refreshments Klyssyneth." He smiles, one hand coming to light rest on the dragon's neck as he stands and looks around. "Should be around here somewhere." And off X'in goes, eager to quiet the rumble in his new lifemate's stomach.

Apheli is watching everything on the sands, missing very little but whether she comprehends it all is another question. The impressions happen so fast.

A Scholar's Consequence Blue Hatchling observes the world around him with an already-weary eye, head tilting, cracks of grey color giving him the impression of raising a brow. For a long moment he merely watches those that are watching him, gaze roving over sands, stands, and finally, his clutchparents. His gaze lingers there, flat, unamused as he emits a soft snort. It's a rather universal sound, that of a child asking mom and dad if they really have to do this right now. This is all so chaotic and borderline undignified, and he's waffling over the decision to embrace it utterly or avoid it altogether. Well. No sense wasting energy while he figures it out. Plop he goes, skinny butt dropping to the sand.

Saverio watches the bronze take the stage and immediate exit, much to his relief. "I prefer to take the lead, just saying." Nothing wrong with confident ladies, he just has a specific path in mind. That tiny green does startle him when she makes her appearance, and he holds his breath until he's certain she's picking her chosen one. Once he's sure it's not him, he exhales heavily, inching closer to Ava. Xinra is now officially a kept man, with a lovely leading lady at that. "Congrats, Xinra!" he manages before the pair leaves the sands. Now it's just a few of them and the heat of the sands.

T'syn had been waiting; as Xinra Impresses, he makes his way onto the Sands, his expression oddly more approving than it had been for the other two he's escorted. Then again, he would approve of a male on green. Biased? Of course. "Congratulations, Weyrling," he greets the newest greenrider. "Come, let's get her some food. I'm sure she's starving."

She back! Ava's grin beams as the little green bumps he snout right into Xinra right beside them. What a remarkable moment to see up close.. "Congratulations!" She says in the next breath and scoots in to filla the space left by the departing.

Room 237 Egg cracks hard and sharp. For a moment, these long, spearing lines follow the hexagonal pattern upon the shell - right up until they don't. With a sudden burst, a long, pale claw shoves through, raking a deep gouge from within the egg's shell before withdrawing. The sound it makes is positively eerie, a long slow screeeeeeeeeech enough to make hair stand on end before the egg settles into restless silence once more.

Oddisa twists about to talk to E'stel, "I'm like, really pregnant." Whispering as if this is not super obvious to everyone who has seen her over the last few months, "We can handle me once everyones impressed." There's a squeeze of her hand to his, "They've not even bloodied anyone up tha' much." It's almost disappointment from the young junior, there's a smile as the green impresses and to a young weaver. She's a fan of greens and weavers.

A Scholar's Consequence Blue Hatchling has finally reached a decision - of his own volition, thank you very much. No caving to peer pressure here - what does he care if almost all of his siblings eclipse him, have surpassed him? He'd rather take his time and make the exact right choice than blunder ahead full tilt and maybe get it wrong. So he takes slow, deep breaths, faceted eyes covered by both lids, head tilted upwards until a distant sensation occurs to him. This and nothing else drives him to his feet, finally taking his first steps towards the candidates. His gait is sure despite his relative frailty, thin limbs carrying him across the sand with great dignity. It's only once he reaches those white-robed figures that he pauses, the presence of so many jumbling his thoughts, forcing him to pause, head rotating as though seeking gravity's faint pull. His nose dips to sniff at a pair of shapely ankles, but with a sharp sneeze he backs off and moves on, positive that if nothing else, they were not his.

All Work and No Play Blue Hatchling

Listen, all we're saying is that there's probably saner dragons to have graced Pern's surface. This big beast is chaotic at best, hide a literal patchwork of various blues stitched together from nose to tailtips. Some are pale and ghostly, childlike ruffles and whimsical lace lining his wings, while others are hard, dark, lacquer shattered like weak wood. The wraithly remnants of a failed demise clogs the space beneath his chin, bathing neck and chest in grotesque drips of icy ichor. Pale scrapes and scratches shred gill-like crescents in the sides of neck and ribs, each welling with faint iridescence, drips of frozen lifeblood just waiting to spill over. The rest of him is thin to the point of emaciation, fanatical hunger to match forever shining in faceted eyes, eyes that bulge just a little too far from his skull. It's almost as though the world around him was one wrong move away from being caught up in lengthy claws, silver sickle claws glinting from the ends of long, dark-fingered paws.

Room 237 Egg quivers as the being within it twists and writhes, silvery claws once again jamming through the hole it's made in its shell. They wrench outwards, goop and shards of shell drenching the sand below, a bright whirling eye and too many bared teeth peering through the gap. Here's Blueie! Out and out and out claws shove, allowing the unholy— er, very definitely cute and not at all terrifying dragon within to spill to the sands… with mixed results. Screech. CREEL. Hiss! Drama overrides whatever terror his appearance might inspire, dragonet rolling over and over in the sand like a snake playing dead before he finally figures out how to maneuver ruffled wings over his eyes. "You know, Jakketh," sighs the Cromian boy - newly renamed Red'rum - whose feet the wraithly blue has wound up sprawled across, "you're gonna have to get used to the light if you're going to be half as scary as you dream to be. C'mon, let's find you some shade over there and we'll work on it."

With a triumphant cry the All Work and No Play Blue Hatchling has found its lifemate at last. After a few moments the Weyrlingmaster leads the new pair off the sands.

E'stel winces at the last egg's attempts at breaking open. "Shells." Roheith too seems to pivot around at the noise again, having been rumbling approvingly at the recent impressions. The squeeze from Oddisa gets a smirk. "Oh is that what that is?" He teases back, "Still, I'm here." The comments on bloodying up gets a chuckle. But just in time for another very dramatic blue to make their appearance. "Our blues are almost more dramatic than their greens. "Well, except that one." He nods to the darker more lapis blue. Almost seems out of place among the terrors so far.

Hiraeth is a terror, and proud of it, thank-you-very-much! Poor Danni…

A Scholar's Consequence Blue Hatchling stills once more, but this time there's a line of tension in his lanky form, stone-hewn head snapping sharply to one side, as though sensing the exact origin of that drag on his soul. There. How could he have ever lost it in the first place? Ah well, no time to wonder, to waste a second longer, unhurried stride carrying the careful blue straight to a spirited young woman's feet. Hello, forever-mine.

With a triumphant cry it seems that the A Scholar's Consequence Blue Hatchling has found its partner at last and impression is made!

Stars in her eyes, Aph gasps in wonder at the voice resonating inside her skull. "Of course, of course, my Sciath! We'll get you some food right away!"

Oddisa smacks at E'stel as the last of the hatchlings find their lifemates, leaving on egg shrapnel and disappointed faces at an hour that most would still rather be sleeping. "Thank everyone who got up to watch tonigh', Oriapeth, Roheith E'stel an' Myself could not be prouder of the clutch. Please stay; I'm sure we have breakfast foods available, an' we always have alcohol if you prefer a nightcap." Turning to the remaining candidates, her lips a resolute line and a nod to each. "Your lifemate wasn't here, but that doesn' mean you should quit trying. We hope you enjoyed staying with us, an' you're free to continue. If yu have homes or crafts you'd like to move onto then our riders will help yu get there once daybreaks. Remember to do yur pushups and drink water." Turning back to E'stel, she moves to leave, Oriapeth following behind them, giving small chuffs of encouragement to each candidate left.

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