Hatching Sands -- Starmount
The Sands are spread out around you in a glittering display of heat waves, shimmering through the air visibly against the icy chill of the air drifting in from the Bowl entrance. Underfoot the ground becomes too hot to walk on comfortably with any footwear, and even boots leave much to be desired. The sands bear the lastest clutch, the eggs starting the rocking motion of those near hatching. To the west, past a sturdy, firelizard-coated railing, you can see the rows of benches where the watchers are sitting, cheering on the kin and friends standing on the sands. Above are jagged outcroppings and ledges wide enough for the largest dragons, and and a little way beyond them the wide aerial entrance to the Cavern. Past the sands themselves you can barely make out a dark tunnel.

Coriianna grins and stands up once more. "Well, if I actually get picked out by one of the beauties in these eggs, I will certainly be surprised," Cor admits, stretching slightly to get the kinks out of her back, then hopping to another foot. "Definitely need thicker soles," she murmurs half to herself.
I don't know that person.

Khavrineth, attuned to motion, raised her head from Candidate contemplations to regard the new arrival. Then with amusement thick-burning in her voice, she comments aloud, << It's the brat. >> Tamial colors promptly and blinks over. "Ah. Puokano." Perhaps unsure how to continue, she hesitates before adding, "Just don't go near that one egg of Krysanth's and you should be fine."

Puokano protestingly steps onto the sands, accompanied by a slightly bewildered bluerider. "Candidates are touching eggs," points out the affable S'lo, "and you've got a white knot." Puokano starts to reply, but the petite woman pushes him forward. "Go. Really. What kind of person would rather hide in lower caverns than visit the sands?" she wonders to herself, bewildered. Puo, for his part, glowers after the bluerider before reluctantly turning to Tamial and declaring, "Don't worry. I won't."

Coriianna moves away from Puokano, her dark blue eyes actually darkening almost enough to turn black instead of blue for just a moment, before she turns her attention on another egg, touching it gently and speaking to it softly.

Tamial's looking less than enthusiastic, herself. << Well, he -did- get Searched, >> the dragon comments, stretching her head forward to sniff at the boy. << There may be one here for him already. >> Then she flicks a wing, as if in a shrug, and flows down to lounge like a feline on the sand, still curled protectively half-circling the Blackest. Tamial just stifles a sigh. "Be gentle," she recommends, laying fingers lightly on Khav's favored. "Try to get near all of them. It tends to cut down 'accidents' at Hatchings, they tell me."

Puokano stubbornly crosses arms and stands as close to the exit as is probably allowed, fidgiting. "It's warm, here," he grudgingly admits: the Sands' only redeeming quality. Probably why he doesn't flee, too.

"Yes, it is." How noncommittal do you get? Tamial fishes a little bottle of oil from a belt pouch and shifts off Khav's foot so the dragon can raise it, a perch for Eftgan as her owner shakes up the vial and begins working daubs into the still-growing firelizard's hide. << Is this all I'm good for? >> "Oh, hush up."
Coriianna stands up and rolls her eyes at Puokano before moving on to another egg. "Of course it's warm here, do you expect the eggs to be allowed to freeze to death?" She crouches, puts her hand on the next egg, and starts murmuring once more.

"Whyever not?" Puokano snidely responds to Coriianna, mimicing her with a roll of his own eyes. "They're just eggs. Really. I don't understand you all. Who would ever /want/ to be stuck with one of these things?" He indicates the eggs with a thumb-jab. "They're not even pretty."

Khavrineth dips her head abruptly to stare Puokano in the face, eyes flickering oddly. << They're not? >> she asks him, evidently quite serious -- and worried, too. << Are you sure? Everyone else has said that they are. >> "And they're right." Tamial clears her throat, grimacing at the grouchy Candidate. "Thank you kindly, you've given her something else to fuss about." << Should we paint them blue? >> the dragon persists, hopeful. << Or with stripes, or spots, or what? >>

Coriianna stands up and glares at Puokano, her eyes turning a glacial blue that makes between look warm. "They are -hardly- ugly. You obviously have no taste in art."

Coriianna moves on to the next egg, having apparently dismissed Puokano from her mind entirely. She places her hand on the next egg and talks to it again.

Puokano transfers his foul expression to Khavrineth before responding to Tamial, tone sacchrine-sweet, "Anytime, of course." One'd almost think his mission in life would be to be nasty to as many people as possible. "They are too," the lordling intones to the other candidate, unfased. "Absolutely ugly. 'Cept maybe those two." He indicates a searingly-luminant egg and a dark-toned ovoid with flicks of his fingers. "They're /almost/ nice. But not quite. Eggs aren't art."

"You'll make a lovely Assistant Steward," Tamial comments, neither sweet nor foul; neutral, more like. << Are you sure? >> Khavrineth's attention transfers to Coriianna now, uncertain. << I like them. >> She cups claws around the Blackets once more, nuzzling at it fondly, then follows her rider's unconscious glance toward the indicated two. << Oh, yes, those are very nice. They're all nice. >> Content again, she goes back to studying the black shell of her favored egg with all the intensity she's given to everything else. "You're not going to find anything." << You haven't tried. How would you know? >>

Perhaps the first genuine smile since Puokano first arrived at Starmount graces his expression for an instant before he remembers his disposition and transposes his features into those of sullenness. "Mm. I suppose I'll like it," the youth decides from his stance upon the very edge of the Sands. "It'll be nice to be back in Boll."

"I did offer to arrange your return immediately," Tamial points out, ignoring Khavrineth's uneasy glance. "I don't suppose you're here because your father noticed that no one liked you there?"

Coriianna smiles up at Khavrineth as she stands back up. "They're absolutely beautiful, Khavrineth. Don't worry about him, he simply has no taste." She proceeds to the next egg, leaning down to place her hand on the latest. She has every intention of touching all 13 of Khavrineth's clutch today. A beautiful clutch, in her opinion, and that'

"I never heard anything from that rider," Puokano snaps back. "He obviously didn't care enough to find me and have me removed from this..this../Candidacy./" The last word is nearly spit out in utter distaste. "My father had his own reasons," the lordling intones presumptiously, "and they don't have to be shared with you."

"He obviously has duties that don't include you," Tamial retorts mildly. "Quite a number of them, in fact. As for your father--" She shrugs, and smiles. "Shall I have word sent to him? I'm surprised it hasn't been already, actually. Most Candidates' parents have something to say about it."

Coriianna stands up and moves to another egg and crouches down to touch and talk to it, ignoring the other conversation, ostensibly, though she isn't deaf to it, merely paying more attention to more important things.

Puokano grimaces before distastefully informing, "He knows." A sniff comes next, and he grumbles, "You'd think that if you were so willing to get me out of this, then you'd have a word with that rider." He suffers a sigh. "But I suppose I'll just be stuck in the barracks for another few days." Poor Puo. Poor candidates.

"Mmm, I did." Tamial tilts her head, matching Khavrineth's glance at Matrith. "Cam has no problem with your leaving. Unfortunately, Matty does." << Matrith. >> "Matrith."

Coriianna grimaces from where she's standing up from her one-sided conversation with the egg. "He was really anxious I agree, too," she comments. "Somebody refuse him before or what?" She moves on to the next egg.

If Puokano deigned to pout, he would. His expression comes pretty close as it is, eyes narrowing at the goldrider. "You've got to be kidding," he states sharply. "This is some cruel joke, isn't it?"

I mean.. Maybe it was a kind of self-medication for a disorder? Holmes practically had the whole set. ;) Depression, certainly. Okay, so he's a book character, but still. :)

"Refuse who? Oh, Matrith?" Tamial's mouth quirks. "Actually, I did. More or less." Looking back to Puokano, she just shrugs and shakes her head. "He's quite stubborn, Matrith is. Cam's a sweetheart, but if Mat thinks you ought to be here, neither one of us is going to contradict him too hard." Is this called a radical about-face? Or just turning sadism in a new direction? "I'd quibble about cruel, but I'm not sure who it's cruel to."

Coriianna mutters, "Us," before bending down to touch and speak to yet another egg.

Puokano would probably vote for the second option: sadism. "This is stupid," he exclaims heatedly. "I don't want to stay, and /you/ said you'd get me out of this." He points an accusing finger at Tamial. "I don't care about any stupid thing that happens to be called Matrith." Except with it concerns escaping his clutches, anyways. "I didn't even want to be here. I was forced. It's not fair."

"I said I'd talk to Cam and see if he'd allow you to step out of your promise," Tamial points out calmly, running a hand lightly over the Blackest egg again. "I did so. He did. The dragon refuses, and while I suppose you could argue with him, I wouldn't recommend it." She smiled again -- a little tight, is that? -- and adds, "I'd suggest you remember your rank, Candidate, and act accordingly." And with a grimace, "Faranth help me, I'm reduced to pulling rank."

Puokano rolls his eyes in a definitely disrespectful mannerism. "Whatever."

"What would you do," Tamial wonders, studying the boy with Khav's intensity, "if I spoke personally to your father?"

Coriianna rolls her eyes at the little lordling as she straightens to move down to the next egg. "What is that boy's problem?" she mutters to herself. "It's not like I don't have better things to do than mop and dust. I've got real work sitting around waiting to get done, for months now. Do I complain? No, I get it done, and then see if I can get the real work done in between."

Puokano's problem is ingrained nastiness, or something equally unappealing. "I suppose I'd have someone pack my bags for me," Puo smoothly responds. "If you spoke to him, then I assume I'd probably be going home. To Boll."

"In disgrace," Tamial clarifies. "Over disrespectful, disgraceful behavior. Because that's the only way you're getting out of Candidacy now, and you're getting very, very close to it."

"I haven't been disrespectful or disgraceful," Puokano notes with faux pas innocence. "So there's no reason I'd be going home because of that." He chooses to ignore the comment about exiting Candidacy, although a look of displeasure crosses his countenance.

"I suppose you consider 'Whatever' respectful." Tamial arches a brow. "And if you addressed your Lord father that way, he'd like it?" Khavrineth tips her head, nudges her lifemate's shoulder with her nose, and tries a curious, << Whatever >> at her that Tami ignores.

"Sure." Shoulders shrug while eyes flicker briefly towards Khavrineth and the egg she hoards. "My father probably wouldn't mind," Puokano responds, lying through his teeth with a fake smile.

"Shall I ask him?" That innocence is equally fake, and Tamial's matching smile. "I wouldn't mind visiting Boll," she adds, lying as well, but for other reasons entirely.

Coriianna snorts while she's moving to another egg. She doesn't believe either one of them. Especially Puokano. But she doesn't snort loudly. She thinks the confrontation is too amusing to miss because of someone noticing her. She bends to touch and whisper sweet somethings to another egg.

"Don't you trust me?" Puokano inquires with false sweetness. "How do you expect to get to Boll, anyways, when your dragon's sitting on the Sands?" He does, after all, pick up on a few Weyr-things. But only a few, mind.

"Are you worried?" Tamial counters. "Oh, Ephenth or Matrith could take me. I'm perfectly sure Cam or Z'ina wouldn't mind at all getting out of the weather." She sets shoulder to Khav's leg, arms folded neatly. "But of course, if you're afraid your father might-- Well. What do you say, shall I drop in at Boll? I'm sure he wouldn't mind a visiting Trader."

Puokano brushes off the first question with an easy -- and equally fake -- laugh, hitching thumbs into belt-loops. "Me? Worried? Why would I be worried about something like that?" He smirks. "I'd hate to keep you waiting for candlemarks on end, of course; he's awfully busy right around now. Never has time to visit."

"I'm sure he'd make time." Tamial just smiles. You don't trade for turns without having at least a guess at when someone's on the run -- so to speak. "I'm very persuasive."

"I'm not," Puokano states simply. "I expect you don't really know what Hold-life's like. It's busy."

Tamial tips her head a little. "Goodness me. I grew up in a Trader stakehold -- you don't get much busier than that -- and spend four turns riding route for Holds, about a turn for each major Hold. I expect I do. Try again."

Coriianna shakes her head. "That boy's going to face a real problem one of these days, and I hope to be able to see it, from ten miles away," she mutters as she moves to yet another egg.

Puokano's dubious expression shows his little faith in Tamial and her upbringing. "Riders," he reiterates, "forget how the real world is after they get stuck with a dragon. You probably just don't remember right." He pauses a moment before adding, "Mum said so." Mum, speculative information-bank of Pern.

"Not in three turns," Tamial says, tweaking Eftgan's tail lightly. Yes, she's slightly underestimating Khav's age, but who's to know? "Not after seventeen turns in Holds. Besides, you're dodging the question -- what will you do if I go to speak to your father? Because you and I both know that if I go, he'll see me."

Coriianna starts to bend down to touch another egg, but before she comes into contact with it, she mutters, "And Weyrs are -so- slow and empty!" Then she becomes involved with talking and touching that egg.

"I already answered that," Puokano coolly replies. "And I wouldn't be so sure that he would. You overestimate yourself, I think." A scornful glance is cast at Coriianna, and he murmurs to himself -- albeit a bit loudly --, "She's so sad. Poor girl, caught up in bits of shell and sand."

Coriianna finishes her speech to the egg, stands up, then looks sharply at Puokano. "Poor boy. Caught up in himself, nothing but hot air." She then moves on to the next egg.

"I'll be sure to drop in tomorrow," Tamial says decisively, to Khav's accompanying, disappointed croon. "Well, it's eggs or Hold," her lifemate points out, and the dragon chuffs a sigh. "Besides, you can keep up with Ephenth or Matrith, hmm?"

Puokano's slightly surprised expression gives away his uneasiness; he covers it up nicely, though, simply offering a tight smile. "I'm sure you'll have a good time," he remarks with a sarcastic edge. "Climate-change. Don't faint from the heat, or anything."

"I'm from Azov. Heat doesn't bother me." Tamial chuckles, adding, "I'm sure we will. Cam and Zi have been pestering me to take a break for ages now."

"Good thing," Puo drawls in his Bollian slang, "because Boll's not too pleasant for the average northerner in this time of year. Lots of nasty little vtols and spinners and things."

"Tsk. Thank goodness for a full fair of firelizards, mm?" Tamial straightens, thumping Khav's shoulder affectionately. "Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know that we have those down on southern, too. They do adore the weather. Now-- shoo. I'll have to get an early start, so off with you."

Coriianna sighs as she straightens from the thirteenth egg. She was hoping to get over to Krysanth's clutch this time. Oh, well, at least she managed 13. A lucky number for her, if no one else.

Puokano thankfully flees, turning and striding briskly away from the sands. "Ugh. /Riders/ and dragons and eggs," comes his mutters of disgust as he hurries away.