The time: Pre-dawn of the day after the hatching was expected. Most of the Weyr is still awake, the glows are all brightly lit, and there's still a crowd gathered in the galleries. Candidates are holed up in the barracks.

Candidate Barracks -- Starmount(#52RALM)
This arching cavern is more than large enough to house seventy or so inhabitants, though it'd strain to manage more than that. Cots are set up rather haphazardly in all directions, mingled with several very large, rather stained and sanded tables covered with hides and other interesting objects. Activity in this room right now is considerable. A clutch must lie on the sands, for this barracks cavern is currently home to quite a number of not-quite-frantic, but very busy recruits. True, unless it's nighttime, it's very quiet around here, as candidates are dragged off to various chores, but one or more can always be found here. At night, it doesn't get any quieter, though most candidates learn right away to sleep through the fuss.
 A single large tunnel leads out from this room, down a slight slope into the northwest quarter of the bowl that faces the curved niche that houses the weyrlings and their lifemates. To the southeast can be seen the huge opening to the hatching grounds.

Myca rolls over in bed, disturbing Scruffy briefly. The cat yawns and curls up again at Myca's feet and drops back off to sleep.

Coriianna is zonked out in her usual position in bed, on her belly with her head turned cheekdown on her pillow, draped with young flitts of various ages.

Ramaki sprawls over hers, pulling a blanket up to her chin where it'd fallen down to her chest. One of her pillows is mumbled into, as the girl is obviously in the throws of some dream -- what, don't /you/ talk in your sleep?

Riko rolls over in his cot obiously in a deep sleep.

Drekyn thumps in from the bowl, walking rather more heavily than is strictly necessary in a vain attempt to clear her boots of mud. Drat is quite happy aboard her shoulders, beaming at the world in general while he pulls at strands of Drekyn's hair: carefully bound at the start of the evening, it's now tangled and scraggly. Once inside, Drekyn settles onto an empty cot with a weary sigh. Glancing over the barracks, she snaps irritably, "Wake up. And just because you're moving out tomorrow is no excuse to leave this place a mess," she adds, kicking someone's unmentionables away with the toe of her boot.

Garrett wanders in from the bowl, shoving his shiny and new, if somewhat ill-fitting, glasses up the bridge of his nose. Then again, his old glasses didn't fit him too terribly well, either. He walks quietly, or, as quietly as he can manage, between cursing over stubbed toes and close encounters with cots, between the sleeping candidates, and flops down on his own cot. Unfortunately, just when he'd expected he'd finally have a chance to get forty winks, he hears Drekyn's order, and sits up again, pulling his boots on and finding his glasses.

Coriianna opens her eyes and rolls to a sitting position on her cot, flitts zooming every which way and vanishing between as they go. "Huh?" is her highly intelligent response.

S'ara follows Drekyn, face set in a scowl. She looks tired. Hagged, too. Puffy under the eyes, eyes red themselves. The whole bit. She does not look pleased, quite obviously. Her arms cross at her middle, and she simply Glares. "Get moving. Don't waste my time." Such a precious commodody as that is, after all.

Puokano, snug beneath his multiple layers of blanketing, sleeps on; still and silent, it's perhaps the one time that the reluctant candidate is standable. Drekyn's commands are unheard -- or, if they are, Puo cares not to awknowledge them from under the warmth of his coveres.

Ramaki twitches, making a noise very like 'snark' into her pillow before groggily sitting up right. "Unh?" Her pillows are reordered and she makes an attempt to make her bed -- around herself. Duh, let's wake up now, shall we? "What's happening?"

T'ela stalks silently into the barracks just a few paces behind Drekyn, finger combing her short hair down against her head, wearing the rumpled look of one just awoken. Crossing her arms in front her her chest, she stops just behind and to the side of Drekyn's cot and nods, adding her own near-bellow in a none-too-pleasant tone, "Best hurry. Eggs wait for no one".

Riko snaps awake in his cot, "Whhhhaaaa?" a sleepy tone comes from his cot.

Kaeralla was liying on her cot, blanket tucked up to her chin, but whether she was sleeping or not, one might never know. At the sound of Drekyn's voice, she glances up, blinking a little. Uh oh, here the teachers come, better to be up. Throwing her blankets back, she scrambles off her cot and into some clothing.

One sea green eye peers unbelievingly from under the covers. "You have got to be kidding me," Myca mutters rebelliously. "It's the middle of the night, we -finally- get to sleep, and they want us to wake up and do chores." The cover flips bakc over her head and she resolutely stays ensconced in her warm, comfortable, stationary bed.

Drekyn rolls her eyes at the world at large. Raising her voice somewhat in irritation at the lack of response, she says, "If you don't get out of those cots in thirty seconds I'll send the hatchlings in /here/ when they hatch. See how well you can avoid getting mauled brutally in a confined space, yes?" Drat giggles good-naturedly, slipping down off of Drekyn's shoulders and bouncing once or twice on the cot.

Coriianna stares dully at T'ela a moment, she's none too brilliant before her first cup of klah unless there's an emergency, you know, for a moment, blinks once, then goes, "Oh!" and dives for her clothes chest, coming up with her candidate robe, on top of everything else, thank goodness, which she immediately starts trying to struggle into.

S'ara just stands there. Looking fierce. Possibly.

Ramaki grunts something unintelligible, finally realizing that -- you know, she's tucking herself into the bed. Disrupting the sheets, she stumbles into a standing position, beginning to methodically make the bed again, this time having a better chance at it. Yes, she's still asleep, folks.

Riko rolls off his cot in his usual non-graceful method of ploping on the floor, "Ugh." Is the only word that comes out of his mouth as he begins to get up of the floor.

Kaeralla gulps at the mention of being mauled. Grabbing her boots, she sturggles into them. No way is she going to be walking across clod stone floors in her bare feet. "I'm up, I'm up." she insists loudly, pushing herself off her cot and pulling the blankets back into place.

Coriianna's unbound hair is, of course, flying everywhere as she attempts to get into her robe, wiggling and jiggling with all her might until her head comes out... the armhole. A muttered curse erupts from the nearly-strangled candidate, and she pulls her head back in again to finally emerge, victorious, from the right hole. She pulls her brand new white boots out from under her cot and starts pulling them on.

"Are the eggs actually HATCHING?" queries Myca, peering out from under the covers again. The redhead looks just as cranky as the weyrlingmasters, and there's a definate sleep-haze fogging her mind and eyes.

One side of T'ela's mouth curves up into a cruel little grin as she watches the havoc insue after that little comment. One booted foot taps inpatiently against the ground as she directs a nod towards various candidates as they scramble past. Leaning against the cot, she leans down to mutter towards Drekyn, "Was it this much fun when you got *us* scrambled?"

Garrett furrows his brow, and peers at Drekyn, then, figuring it'd be best not to cross the riders, hops ungracefully off of his cot in a somewhat controlled fall, and starts digging through the chest at the foot of it. Socks, spare boots, a scarf, and another tunic are tossed up onto the cot in a pile, then finally something white that vaguely resembles a robe gets tossed up to the top of the pile. He slips into it quickly, which is easy enough for him since it's cut a little loose, half-listening to the others mutterings and questions as he tries to get his trousers off without taking his boots off first.

Puokano struggles into a sitting position, a hand coming up to swipe across bleary eyes while a scowl appears upon his countenance. "Excuse me?" he manages to snort out. "I'm not going anywhere. /Especially/ if there's eggs and dragons and slimy, mauling things running about." Thing, perched upon the headboard of the cot, takes offense and lets out a shrill noise. Grimacing, Puokano amends, "Not you, stupid."

Drekyn waves a hand imperiously towards Coriianna. "Don't panic - they're not hatching." There's a menacing pause. "Yet. Take your time - we're just here to talk to you about the hatching, and what'll happen /when/ it happens." A nod towards Myca. "They will be soon." But then, that's what people have been saying all day. And all night, too. Drekyn glances up at T'ela, and smirks. "More," she says firmly. "Now," she raises her voice to carry to the back of the barracks, "How many of you have stood before? Show of hands, please."

Riko rubs his eyes and then raises his hands, and fishes around for his robes with the other free hand.

S'ara is actually fairly presentable, for a wonder at this time of the morning. Okay, so her hair is still braided from what looks like days ago, and her shirt is crumpled. But she's dressed. She has to work, anyway. Who needs to look nice. "No. It's a trial run." Duh. S'ara scowls at Myca, and proceeds in marching down the isles of cots, pulling back covers and the like to expose half-clothed (and some unclothed) bodies. Eek. She stops, as Drekyn makes her comment, and moves back. So she was wrong.

Ramaki stops in the middle of plumping her pillows to blink at Drekyn. No reason given, she just blinks for a moment before pulling the blankets around the lumps and falling onto the bed, beginning to search v-e-r-y carefully for her robe. There's one sandal -- oh, is that a sleeve?

Kaeralla finishes making her cot, turning her attention towards her clothespress and begins to pack her posessions into her old clothessack. Her robe and dandles of course are left draped across the end of her bed, ready for when she might need it. "I have." her hand creeps upwards at Drekyn's question.

Coriianna's hand is quite definitely not up. She nods to Drekyn and continues stuffing her feet in her new white boots at a slightly more dignified pace. Once that's done, she pulls out a brush and starts brushing her hair into some semblance of order as she listens intently.

"Drrrrrrkynnnnnn," mutter/whines Myca quietly. The covers flip back over her face for a moment as she gathers the internal fortitude to face the night, and then she crawls out from under the covers and twitches them into some semblance of order. She sits cross-legged on her cot, eying the weyrlingmasters sleepily. They want her awake? Fine. But they get her in her nightgown, for now.

T'ela chuckles, and follows after S'ara, poking the few remaining prone bodies mercilessly. "You won't be allowed on the sands if you don't pay attention, so better listen up." So maybe that isn't true... it certainly sounds good! Nearly at the opposite end of the barracks from Drekyn now, T'ela stops and turns, sharp brown gaze scanning over those candidates still in the process of waking up.

Drekyn smiles brightly at those few that raise their hands, or at least turns up her mouth at the corners and shows all her teeth. "Good. Then you know how dangerous it can be. /Is/. Those hatchlings are big, and they're ugly - except for Zatmenith," the bluerider corrects herself. "And they're fast. And we won't be offering changes of underclothes while you're out there, either," she adds, as an afterthought.

"And Pakath," comments S'ara mildly, doing anything but smiling.

Shannon teeders on her feet along with the others, looking less than nervous as this is her second time around. "Yes ma'am," she says quietly, nodding to all the riders talking to the group.

Coriianna gives a short laugh. "And that wouldn't look two good on white, either," she mutters, still trying to tame her long hair with a brush. Most mornings, it goes where she wants without a hint of trouble. Today, it wants to be difficult.

Ramaki has found her robe! The whole of it is pulled out of one of her baskets, rumpled and a bit askew, at least until she tries to exchange her nightgown for it -- the neck, wide as it is, isn't wide /enough/, for her head gets stuck. "Unrfmas." A tug, and she's through, pulling her arms into the sleeves and blinking at Drekyn again. Blinkblinkblink. Still not awake.

Garrett struggles back onto the edge of his cot, and sits there, dangling sandaled feet over the edge. One sandal hangs precariously from its toe-strap, and seems about to fall off as he kicks his feet a little, but somehow it stays on while Garrett sits listening to the riders' lecture.

R'ken slips in, fashionably late as ever, and adds, "And Nasmyth. To whatever was said. And don't scare them too badly, Drekyn, or they -will- wet their little whites from fear of -you-, 'stead of the hatchlings." Yes, he has to tempt his fate by teasing the jealous bluerider-type. Smart man.

Riko digs around and pulls out his robes, and then tugs them on, quite a nice fit for someone who isn't good at sewing.

"Corvaith wasn't ugly either," objects Myca in a quiet tone. She's found her hairbrush by this time, rummaging around the one open carrisack sitting atop the two closed ones at the foot of her cot. Her animated objects, that whole fair of firelizards, and the two cats have re-arranged themselves around the candidate. Scruffy amuses himself by glaring regally at the weyrlingmasters while Myca brushes out her hair.

Kaeralla has her clothes packed all her poessions neatyl tucked away into her knapsack. Grabbing her remaining garment on her bed-her robe-and slips into it, throwing her nightclothes into her pack as well. Kae seats herself on her cot, buckling on her sandles while her attention is riveted to the Weyrlingmasters.

Down went that suggestion. "Well, most of them are ugly?" Hazards S'ara, adding, "And mainly they're not ugly because they're -yours-. If you Impress. Or someone you're close to is -theirs-. It makes a difference."

Drekyn narrows her eyes, giving Shannon a sharp glance. "Ma'am is used when you don't know a person's correct title," she corrects automatically, before smirking towards R'ken. "If they survive this, then the sands will hold no fears, is that the idea?" She's in a good mood today, apparently. R'ken still has all his teeth. Drat bounces on the cot for a few moments more before lowering himself onto the ground with a joyous cry of "Kiyi!" He sets off across the barracks, arms wide open as he builds up a stumbling run towards Scruffy.

T'ela grins and nods towards Drekyn, fingers tapping absently against one arm. "Very dangerous. It would be such a pity if any of you got mauled by those sharp teeth. Hatchlings just don't know any better." Gee, from her tone, you'd think she might actually be *happy* if a certain person or two got mauled, and it's probably no coincidence that her gaze wanders over to Puokano... "Not *all* the hatchlings are ugly, Drekyn. Shepoth was gorgeous."

Puokano grumbles and glowers as he shifts to his cot's side to blindly rummage around until a neat package is found. Off goes the ribbon and wrapping, and the lordling pulls out a weaver-made robe: only the best, for him. He holds it at arm's length before plaintively glancing towards the riders. "Do I /really/ have to go? Can't I just sit around outside or something?" And then his tone changes, and he belligerently peers towards T'ela, chin lifted at a defiant angle. "I'm not moving."

Shannon snorts softly at Drekyn. "Assistant Weyrlingmaster," she states with a tip of her head and a grin. "Pardon me, I'm a little distant today. Tired and everything. It's really early after all...and my eyes aren't quite focused enough." She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

S'ara still manages to look grumpy. But with her lips half curled up into a smile? It's an odd look, but slightly effective. She steps forward slightly, arms crossed, but almost decent. Cheerful would be going too far. "On a more cheerful note, If you Impress, you'll know. Right away. It's amazing. And while you soak up all that," a pause, and she makes a face, "Soppy stuff, we'll lead you in to the small room off the sands. There: you can feed. And oil. And drool." What's more amazing is how she manages to speak about these happy things, and still sound like she got up out of the wrong side of the bed. Multiple times.

Ramaki merely nods at whatever the riders are saying, so totally focused on pulling on her robe and trying to not fall on her nose, that she nearly trips over her left out basket. A length of white cord is pulled from it, and she starts bullying her hair into a semi-neat state, in the middle of which she starts mumbling at Puokano. "Get up. It's almost over, you /lout/ -- stop being irritating, Puo."

"So they're beautiful if you have vision problems and a certain attraction to herdbeast-pats," Drekyn concedes. "And /yes/, Puke-something, you have to go. If you're tied hand and foot and thrown out there for hatchling-bait, that's fine by me, but I'm sure you'd prefer to walk there on your own two feet, yes?" she says, smiling. Again, though, it's more a baring of the teeth than an actual smile.

T'ela's grin couldn't get any wider, even if it is just a tad bit feral. Uncrossing her arms, she stalks towards Puokano's cot and stands over him, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Yes. You do have to get up, if Shepoth has to drag you there." That voice is deceptively sweet, though there's a definate dark undercurrent there. "That clear, Candidate?"

Kiyi? The cat watches the incoming short thing with a wary eye, while Myca chuckles at Drat. "Kiyi not like kids, Drat," she says to the little guy, deftly scooping up one of her blues and putting him between cat and child as a distraction. "Puo, all you have to do is stand there and attempt to avoid the dragons. I think you can do that much," she tells the bratling, though her tone holds a note of doubt. "If they come at you, steo to the side. They probably want someone behind you."

Garrett leans over to paw around in the trunk at the foot of his cot again, while trying to keep an eye on the riders. It isn't easy, and he only manages not to topple off entirely by holding onto the edge of the cot with one hand. Finally, he comes up with what he was looking for - a wide-toothed wooden comb - and starts running it through his hair. It doesn't make much of a difference in his hair, except that it becomes mildly straighter.

Coriianna nods, or is that the pull of her brush on her hair? Whatever it is, she manages to yank the unruly mass into some semblance of shape and ties it up with the same leather thong she's been using since before she arrived in Starmount Weyr, died white for the occasion. She grins evilly at the discussion with Puokano, though she sighs slightly. Too bad they can't leave Puokano -far- behind.

S'ara ignores Puokano. And any other annoying brats that need not get a name because it's not worth it. If you can't beat 'em: ignore 'em. Completely.

Shannon glances idly over towards the almost completed candidate quilt with a forelorn smile of sorts. "Maybe if I've got time after, I'll finish that up." There appear to be two or three empty squares. Slowly then, she turns about and peers at everyone, just curious to watch the bustling about.

Puokano transfers his annoyed gaze to his former fostersister, snapping, "It isn't almost over -- and I'm not the one who's irritating." But then he's back to eying Drekyn and T'ela, wary. "Fine, fine," he mumbles. "I'll just stay away from 'em." And flee as soon as possible. "Clear," he responds to T'ela, surly. "Now, if you'd excuse me -- I'd rather not have people standing right in front of me while I change."

"'M a big /man/," Drat proclaims proudly, puffing out his toastrack chest and beaming at Myca. He gives the 'lizard a friendly pat, but toddles around him to find the kitty. He's seen lots of firelizards, but Drekyn's feline doesn't spend much time at home. For the obvious reasons.

Kaeralla sits on her bed, fiddling with the final strap on her sandles as she takes a deep breath. She's ready isn't she. For what ever might happen. She glances over at Puokano, grinning a little. "C'mon Puo, get up, it'll be fun." Yeah, fun, when there's little newly hatched dragonets who have teeth and claws.
From the back of the caverns comes a tremulous voice. "What if we need to use the privies?"

R'ken just snorts in faint response, sidling over to stand relaxedly near Drekyn. Uncomfortably near to Drekyn. But then, he never was known for his smarts. "Puokano, there's more of us than there are of you, boy-o, and it wouldn't be terribly hard to strong-arm a little snot-nosed holderbrat out onto the sands. Quite easy, in fact. D'you need proof of that? Don't -run-, though. They're attracted to movement, and they'll chase." He'll be happy to provide it! And S'ara, the solemn silent one, gets a tongue stuck out at her if the brownrider can catch her eye. That's effective for candidate-intimidating, sure.

"You'll do it now, or forever hold your peace of course." S'ara snaps the words, scowling, "What else? If you dare make a mess of the sands..."

Ramaki shakes her head at her fosterbrother, muttering something impolite to herself as this motion dislodges her hair. The cord is wound through it again, this time secured with a bit of stick in some invisible location -- there. /Stay/. "What if we'd like about six more hours of sleep?"

"If you can lie down on the sands and stay awake," Drekyn says sharply to Ramaki, "I envy the thickness of your skin. If you can get trampled by a dragonet and still be /alive/, I envy your constitution."

Kitty doesn't see much use in children, it seems, for the cat plays ring-a-round-a-Myca, keeping her between him and the toddler. Myca glances around at all the people putting on their robes and then flicks a glance at her neatly hanging outfit. Puo's comment earns him a snicker. "Puo, you don't have anything we've not seen before in better quality or quantity."

T'ela chuckles deeply, and takes a few steps back rom Puokano's cot, then stops with arms crossed once more. "Shy? Of course, if I were you *I'd* be, too." But there's more important things to do, like torture *all* the candidates at once, so loudly, she declares, "And for Faranth's sake don't *touch* them unless a hatchling's spoken to you. Good way to loose some fingers... or an arm..."

Coriianna chuckles. "I don't think we're getting that, Ramaki." She starts winding her cord about her middle, cinching it comfortably tight, at least for her.

Riko leans on the side of his cot almost fully awake, really.

Ramaki mutters another impolite thing -- this one a bit more intelligible and involving the apparent ancestry of heat --, and collapses on her cot again, to start lacing up her sandals. Crisscross, crisscross, up to just below her knees and the end of the robe -- there.

Shannon finds her way back to her cot, and sits down gently towards the pillow, eyes drowsily fluttering in a threatening sleepy manner. "Can we get something to eat?" she querries.

Drekyn nods agreement with T'ela's words. "If they come at you, dodge. If they come at you quickly, dodge /quickly/. If you fall and twist your ankle and can't get out of the way in time, well..." Drekyn smiles brightly, her first real smile of the evening. She looks somewhat hopeful, in fact. "It was nice knowing you."

S'ara just beams. Honestly. Bye, bye, Louie the fly. Or not. "Oh, and have fun out there." Fun? Riiight.

Coriianna looks up at Drekyn. "How about -rolling- out of the way if you're on the ground?" Hmmm... sounds like she's been dodging something bigger than her.

Puokano changes slow as ever, threading arms through sleeves and pulling his robe over the thick shock of blonde while discarded clothes are left upon the floor. "That's what you think, Myca," he calls back, rolling his eyes. "Obviously your experiences have been limited." He critically peers down at his robed self before turning towards Ramaki and questioning, "Does this look okay? Baggy? Mum had the weavers make it, but I haven't been in recently and my size might've changed.."

Garrett pauses with his comb still raised to his head, and stares wide-eyed at Drekyn's rather graphic descriptions of what might happen out there. In fact, he stares at her for quite some time, until his senses get the better of him, and he stares resolutely at the corner of his cot instead. Much safer, that.

Ramaki blinks at Drekyn again, a touch more /slowly/ this time, before opening her eyes a bit wider and nodding just as slowly. "Uh, yes, assistant weyrlingmaster." See, she used the right title. Arms are hugged around herself, and she shivers a bit, before glancing critically at Puokano. "You look awful. Simply terrible." Pause, and then she calls out -- "Does anyone have a bag to go over Puokano's head?" Okay, so she's nasty when she's just woke up.

"If you insist," Drekyn says, with a sigh towards Coriianna. "Although, quite frankly, if you can't get out of the way in time you're not much of a loss to the weyr."

Kaeralla stays where she is on her cot, eyes flickering nervously about the room as she glances at her fellow Candidates. Her sandles securely fastened, she runs her fingers through her dark-brown hair, securing it back into a runnertail.

Coriianna grins and calls over to Ramaki, "I think I've got one somewhere, it'll even keep him from seeing!" Yes, she has fond visions of Puokano being trampled by dragon hatchlings. Ah, well.

Deinha emerges from somewhere in the crowd, to somewhere a little closer to Ramaki, "Why would they do that to Puokano?" So she asks, as she tugs furtively at the top of her robe. Of course, it doesn't change the fact that the white fabric is wrinkled across her chest, where the material is just too tight.

S'ara returns to a standing position, arms crossed tightly around her middle once again. "Any last requests?" Before you meet doom, no doubt. Never mind that the humming hasn't started yet. "You've got a little time. Pakath says there's no movement yet." The joy.

Myca snickers again at Puo, her green eyes glinting with amusement. "Ramaki, I bet there's some firestone sacks outside. Will that work?" Hair brushed, she puts the brush back in the carrisack and pulls out her cross-stich hoop, resuming earlier interrupted work. "Yeah, can we go back to sleep?" she quips to S'ara, attempting a smile that direction.

Ramaki gestures towards the boy -- "I don't know, why not? It'd improve his visage, I think. And then we could admire the robe that one of the poor weavers at home had to make." She tucks at her hair again, glancing a hopeful glance towards Drekyn: "/Can/ we put a bag over his head?"

Shannon rubs her stomach, which is grumbling quietly to it's self. Verdent eyes scan the crowd quietly as she stands and leans back against the wall. As an afterthought, she leans over and reaches into her press, retreiving a strip of wherhide. Making quick work of it, she winds her hair up into a bun and ties it neatly. Deep breath inhaled, she then proceeds to pace back and forth down one of the rows in attempts to wake herself. "Good luck everyone," she states in a groggy morning voice.

Puokano replies with irritation, "At least I look better than you. If there's a bag for me, there'd better be a bigger one for you." Vanity sets in as the youth carefully -- nervously -- smoothes down the creased sides of his robe.

Deinha frowns at the explanation, but also turns to look for the boy, the studious expression making it seem as though she's seriously considering the idea. Finally, she smiles a little and offers a soft, "I think you look fine, Puokano." And then she echoes his movement, tugging uselessly at her robe again.

Brianora dragged herself out of bed awhile aho and had spent the earlier time tidying up around her 'nest'. She finally sits down again and attempts to rebraid her hair, but the frazzled candidate makes a poor job of it.

Drekyn gets to her feet, calling to Drat, "Get back over here, won't you? That's right, little man," she says sternly, folding her arms as Drat moves to protest. "Don't you want to go see the eggs before they hatch? Tell you what, I'll even make sure and get you a shard from your favorite." Drat beams, running towards Drekyn and holding his arms out to be picked up. While Drekyn settles him on her shoulders once again, she nods towards Ramaki. "I don't see why not," she says, smiling brightly.

Aewen is, oddly enough, quite awake. Apparently she wasn't sleeping very deeply, and in her rode to boot. She gets off her cot, and stands, shaking the wrinkles out of her rode, hoping no one notices her mothers boots, one of her most prized possessions.

Riko gives his hair a ruffle or two just to make it look like it normaly does, defently awake now.

Ramaki just about squeals with glee, finishing off the knot on her left sandal before scurrying over to Coriianna -- "Cor, you had a bag, you said?" She grins rather maliciously at Puokano, noting with a large degree of happiness: "At least mine is comfortable. Besides, who cares what your robe looks like? It's not like anyone is going to notice /you/."

S'ara is looking more and more impatient, her head turning every so often towards the sands, and then towards the bowl again, nose wrinkling.

Coriianna stands up, straightens her robe, which is actually stretched to its limit, so doesn't have the length to produce wrinkles, and stamps to settle her feet comfortably into her new boots. She nods to Ramaki. "Yes, no problem, I carried my dirty clothes in it on the road." She moves to her clothes chest to rummage, pulling out a white sack with no holes in it, offering it to Ramaki. "It's been washed since then, of course."

OOC Announcement: Jindra announces "Attention everyone, Starmount Weyr's dragons have told their riders in no uncertain terms, with some rather noisy humming, that the eggs of the dual clutch currently on the sands are due to begin hatching quite shortly. Folks are welcome to join us in the galleries. ICly, it's is being considered pre-dawn, and potentially a rather late night at that. Come and enjoy the spectacle!"

And it begins. S'ara straightens, stiffening slightly, and commenting, "Here we go."

Puokano deftly fastens on his sandals and steps towards Ramaki, glaring. "I'll be the one to be noticed," he counters. "Not you -- you're just another speck on the sands. But I'm a somebody. My whole family's coming up from Boll, even. They'll have choice seating, and they'll all point me out to /everyone./ I'll go back to Boll with 'em after this whole thing's over, and you'll be stuck here."

Deinha blinks. "What's that mean?" She's addressing S'ara, and with a rather wide-eyed look on her face, at that.

T'ela smirks, shaking her head. "I'm sure we could rustle up a convenient bag for you, Ramaki." One full rotation is taken as T'ela surveys the entire barracks. "If you're *planning* on going out onto the sands dressed, I'd finish getting ready *quickly*. Shepoth-" Dark eyes unfocus for a moment before a triumphant grin splits her face. "Shepoth says the humming has started!" As if it wasn't obvious from the bone-jarring vibrations..

Shannon stops dead in her tracks, looking to T'ela, then the entrance to the outside. She skids over to her cot and quickly tosses on her robe. "Do we line up?"

Ramaki spins on her heel to cock an eyebrow at Puokano: "Who says your father won't make you stay here, and make up for how rude you've been to everyone? Last /I/ heard, you're still in his bad graces." Her hair is adjusted again, and then she checks the straps on her sandals -- yes, they're still there, even if it's sloppy. "And, like I said. No one will notice you.." Wait, what's happening? "What are we doing, now?" is asked of the air.

Drekyn glances up abruptly as the humming begins. "Finally!" she remarks, to no-one in particular. She waves a hand towards the other weyrlingmasters. "Handle this lot, will you? I have to find someone to watch Drat." One hand balancing the toddler atop her shoulders, the other desperately trying to smooth down her hair, Drekyn makes a hasty exit for the bowl.

Coriianna pales and swallows hard. The moment of truth is at hand. She still holds out the bag to Ramaki, but her hand shakes hard enough one can see how she broke all those dishes.

S'ara raises an arm, "Yes. Line up. Get ready. Now!" She storms towards the entrance of the sands, nodding to Drekyn. "Move it, people! The eggs won't wait!"

Shannon smirks, muttering something like, "But we'll wait for the eggs," before taking her place in line.

T'ela jerks her head towards Drekyn, then st arts rounding up candidates, shooing them off towards the entrance to the sands. "Line *up*, everyone in alphabetical order." Her voice is clipped and precise now - nothing's going wrong on *her* watch. "Now!"

As the humming starts, a slow smile crosses Myca's face. She tucks the needle into the fabric, hoop into carrisack, and slips off the bed. Not at all body modest, she shucks off her nightgown and slides into her candidate robe. Socks get pulled off, sandles slipped on, and then she's fastening her belt. She twitches the robe into more pleasing lines and then looks around to watch the chaos.

"But didn't you just tell us that this ... wasn't it? That the eggs weren't moving?" So asks Deinha, just before she seems to actually *notice* the rather evident signs that it is, indeed, time. And so she mumbles, rather stupidly, "It's actually happening..." A faint shiver follows, and then an attempt at a smile. "If we ever wondered how many dragons were at the Weyr...it seems they're all making themselves known, now..." This meaningless murmuring appears to be said for solely her own benefit as she joins the others in line.

Ramaki shakes her head at Corianna -- "Not now.." -- before slipping into line, leaving ample space for -- whomever is supposed to be in front of herself. "I think we're about to be busy."

Coriianna moves to take her place in line, dumping the bag on her cot as she goes, still quivering with nerves.

Puokano's eyes narrow as Ramaki's comments hit too close to home. "What do you know about anything?" The rest of his reproach is cut off by the humming and quick commands of the weyrlingmaster-type people, and he informs her nastily, "I'll let you know what you're missing out on once we're out there."

S'ara just rolls her eyes, ignoring various people, and glances at T'ela, "I'll go out first. You take up the rear?" A grin at R'ken, "You in the middle? Something like that?" The candidates are scowled at, and the brownrider heads onto the sands.

S'ara pushes past the curtain and walks down the tunnel to the sands.

Kaeralla slithers off her bed, taking another deep breath at the sound of the humming. "It's starting!" comes her muffled exclaimation, whether of surprise or anxiety, it's hard to tell. But she heads for the line with the rest of the Candidates.

Aewen pushes past the curtain and walks down the tunnel to the sands.

"Oh oh oh OH!" squeaks Brianora excitedly as she scrambles into her robe and boots really quickly and then scampers over to stand by Myca.

Shannon pushes past the curtain and walks down the tunnel to the sands.

Riko looks around, "line up time?" he makes a dash towards the line.

T'ela takes her place at the back, and nods. "Two at a time! Hmm.." A frown is directed after Shannon and Aewen. "Okay, Brianora and Coriianna, you can go now. Don't forget to bow!"

Coriianna nods nervously, takes a deep breath to settle her nerves, and steps out.

Brianora pushes past the curtain and walks down the tunnel to the sands.

Ramaki scowls at her -- hopefully soon to be /no longer/ -- fosterbrother, calling out "More then you do!" before shifting nervously in line. Oh gosh, oh golly -- guess who's finally realized what's going on.

Garrett tumbles off of his cot, shoving the comb under the blankets and shuffling into his place in line. He glances around tentatively, and leans over, trying to see out the tunnel to the sands and past the other candidates.
T'ela pauses a moment, then shouts out, "Deinha! Garrett! Go!"

Deinha just stands, relatively composed, in line. And picks at her robe again. But at the summons, she gives a faintly startled expression, smiles at Garrett, and .... goes.

Garrett almost jumps out of his sandals at the sudden shout, then follows Deinha out the tunnel with a slightly sheepish smile to Deinha.

T'ela stands up on her toes, counting heads before she announces, "After them, it's Kaeralla and Myca."

Kaeralla waits her turn, remebering to take deep calming breaths, although it may all be for naught when she gets out on the sands. Upon hearing her name, she turn slightly to grin at Myca. "Here we go again." she remarks.

T'ela advances to the entrance to the sands and sighs. "Okay, Puokano and Ramaki and Riko. Let's get moving! Those eggs are going to go!"

Myca nods to Kae, a bemused smile on her face. "Here we go again," she agrees. "No point in worrying..." The suddenly wild look that flashes through her eyes belies that statement and then she's calm again as she follows Kae out.

Ramaki jumps at the sound of her name, nearly bumping into the person in front of herself before she -- goes. "Yes, ma'am, right ma'am.."

Puokano looks disgusted, glancing towards T'ela. "I have to go out with /her/?" He jerks a thumb towards Ramaki before he reluctantly moves, muttering under his breath.

Riko looks up to hear some names get called out, "What?" then he realizes that he had just been called, and makes his way out throught the tunnel.

T'ela grins at R'ken as the last of the candidates leave. "Ready?" And with that, she's out, pushing the last of the candidates through.

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.
Contents:
Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling
Clutch

Aewen looks at the newly hatched brown, and a smile crosses her face, though she makes no move, she's just happy to see him set loose in the world.

S'ara raises a brow at the newest brown, considering it for a moment. She nods her head, saying to herself, "Well,it's not bad. Not like you. Kitten. I know, I know." She sighs, shaking her head once more.

T'ela walks out of a narrow tunnel.
R'ken walks out of a narrow tunnel.

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling
After standing tall for thousands of years, an ancient limestone monument falls, sending great chasms through the golden-brown rock where beadlest of moisture make their mark amid the sandy hide of this brown. Particles of golden dust fall amid pigments of blue and yellow, causing a conglomeration atop the curve of his muzzle, fragments of granite flecking the sun-warmed curves of his neckridges, landing amid the stony-battlefield of his haunches, torn into ruin. Devestation in grey dust -- beaded in droplets of azure -- mark his limbs, ancient secrets lost below the curve of his night-swept sand belly, and burnished gold ornaments piercing the butress of his talons. Murky browns -- as if a shadowed abyss -- fall across his wingsails, taunted by the cool aquamarine that dribbles across poinions, forever making rememberance of the damage now wraught.

Myca follows Kae out onto the sands, pausing to execute a graceful curtsy. She smiles tremulously at Tamial and C'drel as she looks their direction, and then she's heading over to stand by Brianora. "Pssst, Stand with us?" she invites Kae in a hushed whisper, that nervous look flickering in her eyes again.

Shannon blinks at the speed of things. "Once they decide to hatch, they decide to /hatch/." She pushes a fallen strand of hair beind her ear, too preoccupied with watching the newly hatched brown to even worry about tucking it back into her bun.

Garrett walks out onto the sands, his sandals flip-flopping against his heels as he treads gingerly over the hot ground. He takes his place near his fellow candidates, after pausing to eye the dragons for a moment. He finally remembers to bow, following Deinha's lead, and dips his head to the dragons before shuffling into place. Peering between the other candidates already assembled, the newly hatched dragonet is treated to a suprised, owlish look from the peculiarly bespectacled candidate.

Windbourne Dervish Egg gives another shudder, this one a bit more insistant, sending Krysanth stepping back a bit to peer at it and the others expectantly. Still though, she refuses to move much further than a pair of steps away from it, even when the first hatchling makes his arrival onto the sands. The candidates are greeted with a chuffed thrum of tolerant humour. So much to do. Meanwhile, the windbourne dervish egg seems to be doing its level best to make tracks for freedom.

Aflicker with ephemeral glimmerings of sunstruck sand caught up in a dervish dance on the dry desert winds, this egg rests neatly cushioned amidst the swelteringly hot sands, the fury of its stormy exterior a surreal contrast to the smoother expanse stretching all around it. Motes of pyrite mingle with truer gold in a spiraling cloud that seems to seek escape from its landbound cage, however gilded it may appear. Smooth in line, and much larger than its follow eggs, it is meticulously cared for, its position changing as often as its dam considers necessary to ensure an even spread of the heat which cloaks it. Indeed that very heat throws up a shimmering curtain that leaves the air dancing before it, bringing to life an illusion already possessed of an energy all its own.

Riko walks out minding the hot sands giving a quick and respected bow to the Gold's and bronzes, and the riders present before joining the semi-circle as fast has his legs can carry him.

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling emits a loud, and very much high pitched sound which could only be described as a cackle. Honestly. With an un-breakable certainty, this sturdy brown lifts himself to his feet, head in the air, and begins to pile through the shards of his egg? Oddly enough, once sorted into a pile, to the amusement of those around him, he straightens fully, brushing the air with his dark wingsails, and darts forward, his bulky form sending him head over heals. Well, that didn't work too well. Especially since it makes him land right in front of an as yet unhatched egg. Nononono. He wants a -candidate-. That's what he's here for. That's just a silly old egg.

Deinha takes in a deep breath, scarcely moving as she catches sight of the dusted brown. "Would you look at that..." comes the faint murmur from wide-eyed candidate. It is her first time seeing a freshly hatched dragonet, after all. But even her own awe doesn't make the heat go away. And she soon begins the side-stepping dance of the candidate-on-sands.

Ramaki nervously steps onto the sands, almost falling over -- she's still a bit asleep -- as she bends from the waist in a supreme bow: It covers the yawns, and most of her shivering. "Puokano! Where are you? I want to stand with you.." Okay, so maybe she's nuts. But she tracks after the boy, reaching out for his hand -- he's familiar, after all.

Kaeralla makes her way out onto the sands, her gaze flickering over the eggs for a moment before she bows, deeply and respectfully to the two golden queens, their majestic bronze mates and to their riders before taking her place in the semi circle of Candidates.

C'drel laughs ruefully at Tamial's whisper, leaning over to deliver affectionate kiss to her forehead. "Khavvi'll be glad to be off the sands -- as well as you?" Mouth quirks briefly as he glances up towards the dragons, before gaze settles back on the candidates. "Oh, shells! There we go!"

Radiant Nightshade Egg gives a little wriggle and a bounce, scattering sand in all directions as it flops over onto its side. From there it rolls back and forth a few times, coming perilously close to the ring of candidates.

Coriianna looks out across the sands cautiously, then sees the brown and her shaking gets worse, then stills. She'll save the nerves for later, this is really important. "Wow! He's beautiful!" she murmurs. She feels around for a hand as she takes the place the gold said she was supposed to be in.

T'ela tracks across the sands, away from the candidates and towards the other weyrlingmasters as she watches the first hatchling warily, standing on her toes to be ready for the first impression.

Aewen moves silently towards her cousin many times removed, Deinha, and looks at all the eggs, eyes shining almost as much as her sweaty forehead.

Puokano dips into a shallow bow, merely more than a bend at the waist, before he nervously glances towards the eggs and dragonet and sends a swift gaze towards the galleries in an effort to locate family amongst the milling crowds. "Ramaki!" He yelps. "What are we doing out here?" He reaches out for her hand, eyes wide. "Can we leave now?" he hisses quietly. "I want to get out of here. Please?"

Shannon's eyes linger on one egg, then move to another, then to the gold backing away from the largest of the eggs, finally resting back on that brown. "Wonder where he's headed to."

S'ara raises her head to nod at T'ela, commenting, "Was it that long that we were here?" She almost smiles. Maybe. "Seems a lot quicker, too."

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling is certain that these big, round things are just here to get in his way. He! Him! This just isn't right. But, then again, they are -his- eggs. Perhaps he made them to do that? That's an interesting thought. At any rate, he strides right past them, balance fairly much gained for the moment. He makes his cackle sound again, and sleepily wavers towards a group of candidates. All this work is making him tired. And hungry. That's what he wants. Foooooooooood. Upwards he peers, at the face of a young man. Nope. He doesn't smell like food. The small brown turns on his heals, flapping his wings, and darts off in some other direction. Puokano is approached. The brown sniffs. The brown snorts. The brown moves on.

Unwavering Night-scape Egg rocks faintly, then settles back down into the sands, not a crack marring its smooth surface. Yet.

Myca peers at the brown as it catches her attention and she blinks in surprise. "They're hatching -fast-!" she comments to Brianora who nods, then risks a glance up into the Stands before getting her attention yanked back to the Sands by a laughing Myca. "Loo, the brown doesn't like Puo!"

"I'll be ecstatic," Tamial answers, shifting foot to foot with fascination. "I hardly remember Khavvi's hatching, except the heat, and being terrified. Look at him-- he's -beautiful-." Only a mother....

Deinha turns as Aewen approaches, her own blue eyes brighter than normal as she grins, genuinely smiles. "Isn't it wonderful?" Her voice hasn't quite lost that breathy quality of awe, even as she pauses the next moment to tug again at her too-tight robe.

R'ken moves out near the end of the line, pausing to drop a thoughtful bow for show, prior to hot-footing it over with the other weyrlingmasters. "A brown." Smug sorta of fellow. "Browns first're good luck." Right. "'Lo Cam-darling, Tami." Even on the sands, he can't resist.

Ramaki clutches Puokano's hand in a very strong grip, before she shivers again and shakes her head. "We have to stay here until they're all done.. that should be too long?" The brown is blinked at, and then she shivers again, just looking around the sands quickly and a touch wildly. "The eggs are /moving/.. I wonder if they ever started talking to the lady?"

Shannon, grumbling stomach forgotten, just does her best to breath. In and out, gently and soothingly. An absent hand flutters up to her face, which she used to fan herself.

Kaeralla watches the brown hatchling curiously, even as she moves a little closer to Myca and Brianora. "He's rather pretty." Kae remarks softly. "And you're right, Myca, he doesn't like Puo, think any of them do?" her voice drops into an almost hushed whisper with her final comment.

Aewen nods, and grins at the little brown. "Don't blame him. I wouldn't want Puo either." This is said in a voice only bearly loud enough to hear over the insistent thrumming.

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling wavers his wings slightly uncertainly, and then with more determination, as his obvious strong-streak takes over from his hot-hungry-tired hatchling streak, and he pushes towards another group of white things. His wings are folded back with a determination seen through the very cocking of his head, as he runs towards them, weaving between other groups that don't look as...appetising? Something like that. Stopping stock still in front of this group, he stares. His muzzle contorts. Then, in utter disgust, he turns around again, and staggers, wings dragging, away. Nope. Just nope.

C'drel glances towards Tamial, laughing ruefully, "They all are," he agrees smoothly, flustering slightly as he hears R'ken's greeting. Concentrate on the hatchlings-- right.

Puokano squeezes hard, forgetting his usual hatred of all things Ramaki. She's Bollian, at least, which is more than he can say for the rest of them. "What's that thing doing?" he snaps, glowering towards the brown and shuffling back a few steps. "Make it go away." Plaintively, he queries, "Why do we have to stay? No one'll notice if we bolt out. Or edge out. Or something."

Radiant Nightshade egg hops and bounces a bit more, spinning back towards the clutch and sending candidates fleeing in fear as it goes.

Deinha impatiently brushes back the loose strands of hair at the corners of her face, then licks her lips nervously. But her cousin's comment gives her reason to turn. "But Aewen, I thought...." She trails off in obvious confusion.

 Flickers of golden sand pour down the sides of the small mound surrounding the windbourne dervish egg, glimmering in the light of the cavern, blinking out as they're cast in shadow once more. From within the sound of an insistant tapping echoes, the diligent and emphatic gestures of the hatchling inside decorating its surface with multitudes of cracks, minute spiderwebbings that weaken the shell to the point where, in one sudden and rather startling burst of movement, the wild storm of sanded gold shatters into a thousand thousand pieces, scattering across the real sands around it in a rain of shards that gleam like the wake of its namesake coming to rest at long last. All the remains is the damp hatchling within, her overlarge wings spread to catch the spinkling shower of gold and white as she tips her head up and surveys the spread of sands and the array of creatures before her with something akin to calm curiosity. Surprised? Oh no, not this one. Perhaps that could be to her advantage.
 

 Soft lines, slim lines, each feature delicate and yet possessed of a certainty in its placement, she is poised, smoothly gleaming in subtly striated ripples of honey and amber, her her hide glistens warmly, the metallic undertones flickering like few across the golden flesh. The hint of yellow tipped rose paints her muzzle trickles back between her eyeridges in a galazy-like sworling blaze, drifting in a clouded haze to tinge her headknobs with the faintest dawning pink. Her tail slips in prehensile fashion, slender, deft, and quite long, coiling snakelike behind her. Talons, dark like teakwood, scrape at the ground as she moves, and like her tail and her wings are overlarge for her petite frame just now. Her wings, yes larger than might be graceful at the moment, are lined with purest amber tones, the gemtone brilliance fading as it bleeds onto her wingsails into and, like a morning flower, blossoms suddenly to a gloriously warm dawning gold that is so tinted with veining red as to flare to rose when caught full in the light. And though awkward in proportion, still her movements are possessed of a certain natural grace, as if to say that someday, when she is grown, she will be something to be seen.

Garrett finds himself suddenly out in the open, as the other candidates gather into smaller groups. He edges away from the dragonets, carefully sliding his sandals through the sand so he doesn't look like he's moving.

S'ara clears her throat mildly at some unheard comment, and glares at the brown, and then at teh gold. "Not bad. She's rather sweet. Yes, I know you like her Pakath. Hush." Her eyes roll, and she smirks.

T'ela's gaze wanders from candidate to candidate sharply, following the path of the brown. A quick grin crosses her lips as he rejects Puokano, and she remarks, "I knew *these* hatchlings would have some sense." Agreement is nodded towards R'ken. "Totally a good sign."

Shannon wrinkles her nose quizzically at that brown. "What /is/ he doing?" She sidesteps a few candidates who've dodges the tumbling eggs. And then, her eyes focus on the little queen freshly tumbled from her shell. "Oh, she's pretty." But her gaze moves on, back to the unhatched eggs.

Coriianna watches the brown decide Puokano isn't right and grins. "Seems to have good taste, too," she murmurs. "Well, beauty and brains is a good combination." She catches the movement of the gold egg out of the corner of her eye, then turns to see the gold come out, her jaw dropping in amazement. "She's absolutely stunning!" she whispers.

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling is hungry! And tired. And itchy. And nothing here is doing anything about it. But with his head high, and his stance strong, the little rock brown storms forward, in search of that elusive white-thing that he knows must be here. Catching his eye on S'ara, he moves towards her, staring hard, and following her towards the weyrling room. She turns, stares, and says something unheard. He lets out a bellow -- rather loud, and high pitched -- and stalks away, ending up right beside a small group of candidates. Eyes raise, and slowly, red turns to blue, and impatient creels turn to silence as Cor's rock realizes who he is. And more importantly, who She is. Cor!

Water-Tortured Brown Hatchling looks deeply into Coriianna's eyes.

Aewen hears the crack, and sees the desert colored egg shatter, and she takes a breath deeply. "Wow. What a lady."

Ramaki's hand tightens on Puokano's and she shakes again -- "Puokano, the gold egg just hatched." The other thing her worry-post said is forgotten, and she gestures with her free hand, shifting her weight finally -- she just remembered it's hot. "She's pretty, gorgeous and.. oh my, oh shards. Did you know that the eggs are actually hatching?"

Drekyn steps deftly out of the way of the spinning egg, approaching the ring of candidates once again. She keeps a weather eye on the hatchlings, and the arrival of the gold gets a whistle of appreciation. "She doesn't half catch the light, does she?" Drekyn comments to the nearest candidate, who happens to be - of all people - Puokano.

Riko turns his head at the sound of an egg cracking, "Wow." is the only word that comes out of his mouth.

S'ara uncrosses her arms, and then repeats the gesture inversely. "Coriianna. Amazing. Who wants to take her?"

J'kan walks over from the Stands, wincing at the heat.

Deinha is too busy watching Aewen to notice the gold's hatching. But she does catch her cousin's enraptured murmur, and thus turns her head quickly to see this object... And her jaw promptly drops, just a notch, so that her lips part just barely. And then move long enough to echo, "Wow..."

In tummult, Alabaster Wastelands and Ocean Spray fall together, shards crumpling as two greens, dark and medium-shade, fumble for footing. Then one untwines from the other, leaving her sister sprawled on her back, squeaking, and goes wandering off to Impress a caverns girl. Eventually the other manages to right herself, only to fall onto her chosen's feet.

Myca chuckles at Kae. "I still say he needs a randy blue...." Her voice trails off as she spies the golden hatchling. "Ohhhhhh... -Look- -at- -her-," she breathes out. "She's all the colors of the sunrise, like some artists' idea of a dragon...." Her voice trails off again and she barely catches sight of Cori's Impression, warned by the cheering she's hearing.

Morning's Glory Gold Hatchling unfurls her wings, neck craning upward further to peer behind her. Well of course there are dragons behind her. Why shouldn't there be? Now, onto the real thing. Dropping her whirling regard to the semi-circle of candidates, she cants her head, blinking thin inner lids as she peruses the selection. Oh goodness. Well that one looks promising. Time to check it out. With a rather surprisingly graceful flip of her wings and tail, she steps away from the shards of her egg and starts a trek toward the white-robed candidates. No doubt she's wondering why her dam couldn't have stowed her egg closer, but she'll scold her about that later. Hmm. Where was that one? Oh yes, this way.

Kaeralla glances about in surprise, "What's all the commotion..." a pause is taken as Kae's gaze settles on the golden queen. "Wow, she is something to behold." Myca is agreed with. "So golden and bright. I wonder who she'll choose."

Aewen looks at the lady of the sands, but she looks on with a friends quiet pride, as if not expecting to impress her, just enjoy her beautiful countenance. She calls a congratulations to Cor, but her eyes stay glued.

T'ela hadn't even noticed the gold's arrival, but blinks at all the oos and ahhhs, sparing a glance for the little gold and an approving nods before she comments, "I'll go take care of Coriianna. Lovely brown." Booted feet are lifted high as T'ela twists through the rocking eggs, pausing several paces back from Coriianna and the brown to wait for a sign.

Puokano watches the brown until he's safely out of the way -- with Coriianna. "Hmph. One down," he comments. "Maybe we'll be able to leave soon." You know, legally. Attention is then directed towards the gold, and he declares, "No, she's ugly. All..wings. But who said dragons were pretty, in the first place?"
Drekyn recieves a smirk, and he replies, "If she did catch it all, it wouldn't make her nicer. Good thing it doesn't, I'd say."

Jindra flashes a broad smile for Coriianna's Impression, glancing up to Krysanth, then Anceth approvingly. It's a well known fact the woman's got a preference for browns. Fortunately, Anceth isn't the type to take exception, and Krysanth... well, she's got a mind of her own in all things.

Shannon reaches her hand about to wipe the back of her neck, sweat beads prickling up in an unfashionable manner. "Where's that brown?" She peers over the head of the candidate standing next to her, watching where everything is headed. The gold is payed no attention for the moment. "So many things moving...Faranth be."

Deinha blinks a few times, still watching the gold hatchling as she first begins to move about. It's probably a good thing she doesn't hear Puo's opinion, as she seems rather fond of the graceful, if misproportioned, young gold.

Ramaki follows the brown with her eyes, oohing softly but not voicing anything before she watches the eggs once more. "The eggs are really strange looking when they move, compared to when they were still, aren't they? They look very different." She babbles about anything and everything, not really listening to anything anyone says as she clings to that one hand.

Brianora shifts back and forth on the sands, doing the candidate TwoStepShuffle as she watches the rocking eggs, but her attention's also centered on the bright golden lady searching the crowds.

C'drel rises onto tiptoes, intrigued. "Is that brown over by Coriianna?"

Matrith's humming continues, barely changing pitch, as the bronzerider cants head to glance admiringly at the gold. "Mmm. Nice," is his comment, but gaze sweeps the sands, seeking to keep track of all the hatchlings as they move about.

Deinha shifts abruptly, one foot to the other. And tugs at her robe again, the sleeves this time. "It's hot," comes the faint sigh, as she fans at her face a moment. Nevermind that she's stating the obvious.

J'kan whistles appreciatively at the little gold, nudging his lifemate with an elbow. "Anceth, just /look/ at her." Then he uses the other elbow to nudge-nudge the WeyrWoman. "Jin, just /look/ at her." Maybe it's not too bad to witness the event sober, after all.

Coriianna's jaw drops once more, as she stares into the blue eyes, drowning in them. She reaches up gently to touch him, almost as though to make sure he's real. "His name is Khanueth!" she calls in a voice used to being heard over any din, but somehow the awe still makes itself heard. "You're beautiful!" A moment passes and she feels hungry. "You're hungry!" She looks around for help. "Don't worry," she assure the brown, "we'll get you food."

R'ken draws in an admiring breath, decides, "She does her dam proud." Attention shifts briefly, and a grin quirks the corner of his mouth. "Brown. Hah, Cor. Go figure." He does stretch up to his toes, neck craning -- before cracking a wider grin. "Khanueth. Lovely."

Morning's Glory Gold Hatchling pauses in her progress, but only long enough to affect a rather curiously sad look. Overlarge wings droop as she continues, a touch more slowly, toward Puokano, head tilting as if to say 'You don't /like/ me?' Do dragons sniffle? One might imagine this one is as she peers at the young man. Really now, there's just something so intriguinging about him. But really? Ugly? /Her?/ As /if/. With a huff, she tosses her head up, gives her tail a flick and marches off down the line of candidates, headed toward a few of the others. Maybe one of them will have better taste. Huff.

S'ara tests the name on her tongue, half smiling. "Lovely. Khanueth. Sounds...interesting. Delightful." Never mind that she's not smiling. Or anything like that. "I'll take the next Impression, shall I?"

Radiant Nightshade Egg ceases its revolutions, quivering gently for some moments like a leaf caught in a breeze. Finally there comes an ear-splitting *crack* - shards fly out in all directions, and when they finally settle to the ground a fat blue tail is protruding from the otherwise smooth shell. A lively struggle follows, sending the egg bouncing and spinning across the sands until a collision with another egg splits it neatly in two.

Without a shadow of a doubt, this little blue hatchling is round, round, /round/. A rounded head with a short, stubby muzzle and big, unusually round eyes sports perfectly rounded headknobs, the whole being set upon a thick, pudgy neck. His shoulders are small, for a dragon, disappearing into the bulk of his fat, rounded torso with a minimum of fuss. His stubby wings, too, seem somewhat rounded - they appear to have a permanent bend to them, even when folded, that adds a new element of roundness to his broad, blue back. Short hindlegs with rounded haunches seem too small for the job of supporting this ungainly creature, but hidden somewhere within those layers of baby-fat must be /some/ muscle, for the blue is able to walk. It is a bobbling, jerky gait that sets his head nodding, his tail swinging, and his wings flapping, however, giving the impression of a children's toy on strings.
 His markings make him appear worn and ill-used, even though egg-goo clings to his hide still and proclaims boldly his newness to the world. Scrapes and scratches he could never have acquired decorate his hide, most notably his hindquarters and tail, a pale gridwork over a darker, more vibrant blue. His wingsails sport dark, nearly black spots, especially around the edge, giving them a tattered appearance. A snowy white spot on the tip of his nose gives the blue a comical appearance, almost cross-eyed, and similar spots of various hue and size spatter his neck and belly. His forepaws are perfectly white, fading to blue up his arms with more spatters and speckles. /Round/ spatters and speckles, no less.

T'ela smiles down at Coriianna, probably the lone time she's ever going to be voluntarily gentle, and takes a step towards the pair. "Congradulations, Coriianna. Khanueth? He's lovely. He must be hungry.. Just follow me now, plenty of food." T'ela nods at the pair again, then takes a few steps off towards the weyrling area, glancing back to be sure the new pair follow.

Puokano stiffly moves his feet, sparing an annoyed glance down at the scorching sands. "Erf. Hot. But it's kind of nice, you know, after all that chill. But I'll bet the galleries are nicer right now. At least they don't burn you." And then: "Eggs are eggs." He makes a face after the gold as she leaves, before whining to Ramaki, "Why do they have to come bug /me?/ I don't want 'em."

Kaeralla shifts, the sand's heat trickling up through the soles of her boots as she trades looks between the queen and the still rocking eggs. A giggles exacpes her lips as she watches the young gold inspect Puo. "As if she'd choose him." the girl remarks in an aside to Myca before gazing at the gold. "Commanding little lady, isn't she?"

Jindra nods to J'kan, being a bit busy, having caught sight of the gold, in looking smug. No one ever said a Weyrwoman couldn't be proud, right? "Lovely as they come." She glances toward Krysanth, clearing her throat. "With few exceptions that is," she adds apologetically."

Aewen is, oddly enough, not moving. No one knew she had very little feeling in her feet, which, in this case, isn't a bad thing. Her arms are folded across her chest, and her head at a slight angle, appreciating the gleaming beauty of the gold with quitet pride.

Shannon snickers, watching Puokano and the young queen. "You've upset her looks like." Amused expression subsided, she turns to the blue who just made his first appearance. "Oh, now /he's/ got nice coloring."

Garrett flashes a quiet smile to Coriianna and Khanueth, but more motion from the hatching eggs draws his attention quickly back to the center of the action on the sands as Coriianna and her hatchling are led away.

More eggs tremble, toppling cacti and foam dissipating on a shoreline, bronze and brown staggering away from melting shards. Then more, brown and green, a rocky pool and sandy memories left behind. Impressions.

Myca continues sneaking admiring looks at the gold as she scans the rest of the sands. The newly hatched blue is pointed out to her stand-mates, and then she's watching someone nearby Impress and hed off the sands. The crowd of Candidates shrinks yet again.

Riko watches the blue hatch out or rather break out of his shell, struck in Awe for the whole beauty of the whole thing.

Ramaki bites her lip before she shrugs: "I don't know. Maybe it's because you're so easy to irritate." Then she goes back to mumbling to herself, shivering steadily as she surveys the sands again, before returning to track the gold with her eyes -- and notice that blue. "The blue is cute.."

Coriianna smiles lovingly at the Khanueth. "I feel your hunger." She blinks. "Wow." She moves, though, collecting herself. "This way," she says calmly, reassuringly, all that stuff she listened to coming in handy as she leads her brown off.

Coriianna walks into the side cave.

Lyric to Luminance Egg trembles slightly, tilting, and lies still. Bumped by its brother, perhaps?

S'ara does indeed smile this time. "Lovely blue. Not brown, but decent." Small smiles cross her face. Or rather, one does.

<*Amhaleth*> Privately, Amhaleth reaches, reaches across the screeching of the hatchlings and the cheering of the crowds: she reaches, feather light, to kiss your mind, her voice reminiscent of cool blue water lapping against a sandy shore: << Pay attention. >>

Unwavering Night-scape Egg shivers again, rolling off of its mound away from the candidates, then stops moving completely.

Morning's Glory Gold Hatchling continues her inexorable march across the sands, whirling eyes tinging deeper with the reds of agitation. Where /is/ she? Drat it all anyway. Ah ha! Wait! There she is! With a sudden burst of energy she starts into a loping gait, and one that her flopping wings make all that much more amusing, she heads toward her intended goal, creeling insistantly for her chosen to see her. With a slight hiccup that probably has much to do with hunger, she skids to a halt at the feet of one girl, looking up with plaintive chur at Deinha.

Morning's Glory Gold Hatchling looks deeply into Deinha's eyes.

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue Hatchling sets out across the sands, rounded eyes blinking owlishly as he peers at the white-robed candidates. He pauses, settling back on his pudgy haunches, and scrunches up his muzzle. His lower jaw drops open, and the blue emits a weak, tinny squeal. Not long after his cry begins, it ends quite abruptly in -- ach/whee/! -- a sneeze! Egg-goo dribbles down the blue's face, and he sits here, trying intently to stare up his own nostrils.

S'ara pauses. "Deinha. Deinha?" A long pause. She moves towards Deinha, half-smiling, "Congratulations, Weyrwoman." And that will be the last respect she gets for a long time. "Follow me?"

Khanueth walks into the side cave.

Puokano disagrees loudly, vehemenantly, carefully tracking dragonets with his eyes; he doesn't want to get mauled, after all. "Whatever." His gaze jerks up, then, and he peers around galleries and ledges and the like, jabbing Ramaki with an elbow and complaining. "These stupid dragons -- the bigs ones -- won't leave me alone, either."

Hatchlings here, hatchlings there; drifts and dust slide together, and a tempest in a teapot -- two greens and a brown, all wild, all confused, stagger like starpoints away from each other. One toddles past Deinha, oblivious, another near Puokano. This one pauses, little green head tilting up to examine him, then wanders to someone else.

Shannon nods as the gold finds her way to Deinha. "Congratulations," she calls with a smile to the new junior.

Deinha turns her gaze from the gold in time to catch an impression, and another hatching. A smile again rests upon her lips, as though these sights excuse the otherwise hardly tolerable heat. Of course, her gaze never strays too far from the young queen, but that can be blamed on a general newness to this sort of thing. And on a genuinely lovely young Hatchling. ... Who happens to be looking at her.... And ... "Sebayeth..." comes the faint, faint murmur. And then louder: "Sebayeth. I see you!" Perhaps an odd sort of exlamation, but she doesn't take note. She has eye only for this little one before her... And thus manages a dazed, "Huh?" for S'ara.

Drekyn nods faintly in recognition of the Impressions, ignoring Puokano. "A good match," she says, to no-one in particular, and not mentioning which of the several pairings she means. She smirks at the blue, and shakes her head. "Zatmenith was a brighter button, to be sure."

Aewen pats at Deinha, yelling over the din, "Congrats, Cousin."

Garrett watches Deinha and her new lifemate, flashing her a smile of congratulations before the rather pitiful squeal of the little blue catches his attention. He blinks back at the dragonet, and cracks a smile at the little thing.

Jindra lets out a whoop, teeth flashing in a huge smile as Krysanth bugles her own approval of the match. Nodding as S'ara takes up the task as well, she turns her attention back to the clutch and the waiting and expectant candidates. J'kan though, for his part in all this, gains a sidelong look and a wink. "Well flown, Weyrleader."

S'ara just smiles. And smiles again. "Glad to see that you can see her. Deinha," she says very slowly, "Please bring Sebayeth into the small cave over here, so that she can eat." Another smile. Very easy.

C'drel can't help but to burst out laughing at the blue, following his progress with much amusement. Matrith too, leans forward, head tilted a bit bemusedly as tail continues to lash back and forth. "That one's going to be a handful," he comments amusedly, glancing over in time to hear Deinha's words. "Oh! Lovely pairing!"

A flicker of disappointment crosses Myca's face, easily missed in the chaos, as she spies the gold stopping in front of another female. She resets her features to a excited look as she scans the sands for other hatchlings.

Khavrineth lets out a wild bugle as the Nightshade egg spills its -blue- hatchling. << I told you so! >> her ringing, fire-tinged voice comes over the noise of the hatchlings. << I told you! You owe me a LOT of stuffed runners! >> Tamial flinches away from the bugle, laughing herself. "All right, all right!"

<*Amhaleth*> Privately, Amhaleth provides a pleasant image of a brown dragonet, frantic in its frenzied hunger, staggering along; and then you, whining, not paying attention, and thus don't see him when his razor sharp claws, waving blithely in the air, catch your clothes and skin... << Pay attention, >> she reinforces.

Kaeralla grins in Deinha's direction. Whether the girl is looking her way or not. "She's a lovely queen." Kae remarks to Myca. "And Deinha will make a good Weyrwoman perhaps. Way to go Deinha, and congrats!"

Deinha flashes S'ara a brilliant smile, especially in comparison. And then she follows the woman over to the side cave, one hand coming to rest almost hesitantly, and with a faint tremble, on her new ... lifemate... her Sebayeth.
Deinha walks into the side cave.

Sebayeth butts at Deinha's hand, trilling gently as she follows along.

Puokano shrinks behind Ramaki, to a certain extent, holding onto her hand as tight as possible. "I don't like greens," he states, making a shooing motion with his free fingers until the hatchling moves off. And then, quieter, he grumbles, "I'm paying attention, I'm paying attention."

Brianora sighs wistfully after Deinha, but comments to Myca, "I wouldn't have the patience to be a weyrwoman, myself. They don't have as much fun."
Shannon reaches up to fiddle with her bun, eventually pulling the wherhide strip out; letting it fall losely around her shoulders. With a sigh, she just leaves it be, dropping the strip down beside her feet. "So very fast. Unbelievable." She turns to glance over at Myca, catching the look. She doesn't share it, but sympathizes with a halfhearted smile.

Sebayeth walks into the side cave.

Ramaki shrugs distractedly, oohing at the gold's impression before shifting to watch the blue. "I think they just like bothering you. You're so amusing when you're bothered.." She shifts her weight, pushing at the sand before glancing at Puokano. "You really are."

J'kan just....blushes, sheepishly reaching to scritch the back of his head. "Ah, heh. Well, it's a nice pairing, anyway." He mutters, giving a nod toward Deinha and the new queen.

Eat! Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue hatchling recognizes that word, for sure, and so wobbles towards S'ara with a petulant creel. He shoves his nose towards her, snuffling hopefully and swishing his tail, looking for all the world like a fat, expectant runnerbeast looking for a treat.

As if cued, another egg in Khavrineth's clutch breaks apart, spilling-- yet another blue. The gold whistle-warbles, looking delighted, and puffs toward her new hatchling. << Pretty color! >> she declares, then looks mildly disappointed as he wanders off toward someone else. << Why didn't you impress him? >> she asks of Tamial, who blinks at her. "Me?" << He's pretty. >> "He's -- that boy's, over there." << Yes, but-- >> "Khav, later!"

S'ara ohdears. There's a blue looking at her. This is a bad thing. She...Well...half smiles? "Um. That way!" Her hand points towards the sands. No food here. "Pakath isn't liking this. Honest."

R'ken blinks a touch, mouth slackening a little -- then just shakes his head musingly. "Deinha. And Sebayeth." He casts a glance upwards at the ledges, says smugly, "Good 'ole, fellow, 'Myth." A quick grin is darted after the goldling before he turns attention to the little blue still wandering. "Well. I'll get whomever Impresses next? Aw, S'ara, he wants you. Isn't he just too cute?" Cough. Brownrider, cough.

Puokano munches savagely upon his lower lip as he watches the proceedings. "I am?" he echoes, surprised. "Why do you think that? No one ever told me that before." The things one learns on the sands.

S'ara just sighs, "Alas, if you were green you'd be welcomed with open arms, my dear blue. But you're blue. There is a big difference." What is an AWLM to do? With such a blue as this here...blue.

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue creels once more at S'ara, snuffling her boots hopefully and even venturing to taste them with the tip of his tongue. Another creel, shrill as a piccolo and twice as piercing, and he looks hopefully up at S'ara. He ignores her words - he's /hungry/, and she's the one giving out food, as far as he can tell.

Shannon chuckles quietly, watching S'ara and the blue. She steps back behind another candidate quietly, just shuffling on her feet to disperse the heat some.

Lyric to Luminance Egg trembles again, this time obviously under its own volition, but only tilts over a bit and knocks into its neighbor, a glitteringly banded egg that promptly cracks apart. Its green occupant evidently hadn't expected the sudden dumping, for she wobbles quite a bit before tottering away.

Ramaki removes her hand briefly to plant both hands on her hip to stare at the boy. "Give me a break. Don't tell me you haven't /realized/ this by now?" She shakes her head, pivoting to reach for his hand again. "It's obvious. Why else would people continue to suffer you, when you're so.. snotty?"

S'ara puts her hands on her hops, "Those are my boots, I believe? Keep your tongue of 'em, perhaps. That'd be nice. Look. I'm sure someone will feed you. Just find out who is right, and I'm sure they'll do it." She looks impatient. It's amusing.

Drekyn hides her expression behind a hand, watching S'ara's dilemma. She can't, however, hide a snicker. "Every blue I've ever met was a touch daft."

Garrett still has his eyes on the wobbly, and evidently either nearsighted or very confused, blue dragonet. He's cracked an odd sort of sympathetic grin, and probably looks quite foolish, but he doesn't seem to be noticing much else at the moment.

Puokano hopefully replies, "Because they think I'm nice-looking?" He shoots a rather annoyed look towards Aewen's end, next, and indicates her with a pointed finger. "She thinks so, anyways. And I'm /not/ snotty. I'm a great person to be around. Really."

Jindra chuckles to herself, turning to watch the hatching continue, the blue's distinctly comical performance drawing a bit of more genuine laughter from her. Nevermind that vorpal hole in the sands that keeps sucking the eggs up to the ledges. No really, pretend it's not there. Please. "He'll be a real handful. Definately," she comments sidelong to J'kan, flicking Tamial and C'drel a wry look.

Aewen, who has gotten over Puo, sticks out her tongue. "I think no, lord wherry."

Kaeralla shifts her feet again, a hand stealing up to wipe at the sweat collecting on her forehead. Sweaty hair is pushed back as she watches the eggs, perhaps a glimmering of hope flickering in her eyes.

Starry Expanse Egg sits. Still. It was not in the ledges, really, it was here all the time, as silent as winter night. Only, suddenly, the stillness is shattered--but not exactly, more like quivered, as if stillness were jello that could jiggle when touched by a draft.

Brianora shuffles some more, watching the blue pester S'ara. "But she already has a dragon?" she asks her neighbors with amused confusion. A shake of her head, a tug of her braid, and she's doing some more of the shuffle.

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue fixes S'ara with a hurt look before shuffling around and wobbling away towards the candidates. Kaeralla gets a sniff or two, and another of those ear-shattering creels, but the blue wobbles away dejectedly without waiting for a response. Apparently he's not looking where he's going, either, for he runs right into one of his unhatched clutchmates. With a squeal of fright, he bounds away again.

J'kan chuckles more in Jindra's general direction, nodding vigorously. "I'm sure he'll be Spiral Winds material in a turn or so." He shoots a wink at the Weyrwoman before leaning casually against Anceth's foreleg, watching the sands.

S'ara is greedy. Very greedy. She wants two dragons. Maybe. Oh, phew. He goes away. The brownrider moves over to where the rest of the AWLM's stand, and crosses her arms. Thank Faranth for that. "Sharding blues."

Shannon blinks, watching the bounding blue. "That one's silly, look at him go." A quiver and shiver of another egg calls her attention.

Day yields to night, night yields to day again--so it is and ever shall be. Thus, the dark surface of the star-dusted egg spiders with cracks, and then splits into three nearly-even pieces, leaving a sun-bright green dragonet sitting in the shards, indignant to have been thus embarrassed.

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling
A lithe, vivid form of a young dragon; the brightest green, with undertones of sunshine, saturates her hide to the fullest. Distilled, that sunshine coalesces, brightens along her neck ridges and upwards to tumble in ringlets of color over her head and around large, whirling eyes. Where there is light, though, shadows must fall, and the verdant hues darken and cool, pooling along the underside of her belly and sinuous tail, save for a spark of white-hot flame hovering right on the tip. Small now, her figure is sleek and well-formed, though slightly elongated; narrow head and slender neck, coupled with that lengthy tail, conspire to give her more length than petite body would seem to possess. Her posture is straight, erect as an angry tunnel-snake poised to strike, head held high in regal fashion.

Ramaki snorts, ever so eloquently. "I doubt it. And you're only nice when.. uhm.." She's obviously hunting for an example of a nice and polite Puo, though it might be more out of sheer irritation-causing perverseness then anything else. "I can't think of any time when you were nice."

Blue; brown; bronze. A succession of eggs, though perhaps not immediately in a line, break and loose their contents. Trailing wisps of fogged-shell, the blue shakes himself sharply, then warbles toward his dam. Khavrineth warbles back, equally pleased, and gives similar (if not quite as enthusiastic) greetings to the other two. << Hello, and hello, and hello, >> she declares, trying to touch noses with each, though the brown is too far for her to touch without moving, and that she isn't inclined to do. She's curled up with Matrith, see. << Seek and find? >> Then a sidelong look at Tamial. << It's another pretty blue. >> "No!"

Drekyn eyes S'ara somberly once more. "Care to repeat that?" she snaps, folding her arms. Her carefully calculated air of menace is interrupted by the blue's progress, and she is forced to dart to one side before he can decide to Impress to /her/.

Aewen inhales deeply at the sight of the green, her friendly pride quickly turning to junior varsity lust. "My, my, all that wait, to the moon and back, green lady?"

S'ara shakes her head, holding up her arms hastily at Drekyn, "That blue! I'm not talking about Zat. Zat's spiffy. I mean the sharding blue that tried to Impress me." She's almost grinning. Maybe.

Kaeralla claps her hands to her ears as the blue lets out his creel. He was so close, close enough to sniff at her. She watches him wander off, her hopes falling just a little, he didn't want her. But then the new green is sighted and her hopes leap upwards again. "She's lovely."

Puokano ignores Aewen and her response. He's good at that. "Yeah, that's just because you're always trying to make me mad whenever you're around," he replies sulkily, reaching for Ramaki's hand again. "You just never see me nice."

Shannon does indeed look captivated. That green never leaves her gaze, the candidate's head moving to follow her every move. "Now /she/ is very pretty." Lacing her fingers together, she places her clasped hands behind her back.

Myca mmmms as she spies the proud and haughty green hatchling. "Now she's kinda pretty. Definately a stunner and charisma to spare," she comments to Kae and Brianora with a faint grin. Shuffleshuffle, blistering feet vye for attention, as does parched throat and sweat-slickened forehead.

R'ken flicks another grin up towards the ledges, though he can't neccessarily -see- anything, before snickering at Tamial. "Poor WeyrWoman." He can't help the laughing, of course. "And you -would- resist the effort, S'ara. You're just so mean." Sure. "Lovely lady green," he adds, voicing a thoughtful whistle.

Matrith nuzzles Khavrineth affectionately, breaking his near-constant thrumming long enough to croon warmly. << Many blues, >> the bronze agrees, pleasedly. Or probably pleased because /she's/ pleased, and thus he is. C'drel giggles, and glances to Tamial. "She wants a blue of her own, does she?"

Leapin' lizards scramble away from the scrabbling talons of a little green in Krysanth's clutch. Her melodious-- well, okay, rather hoarse-- squawk of protest drowns almost instantly as she looks up at her so-near lifemate. The blue who returns from exploration of depthless waters -- Khavrineth hasn't a monopoly on them, after all! -- isn't so luck. It takes him much wandering before he pairs to someone who'd been watching the -other- queen's clutch. So much for locale.

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue, spurned by yet another likely-looking bringer of food, speeds his wobbling gait a bit and approaches the other end of the sands, where Khavrineth is. A pathetic little sneeze escapes the blue, and he nuzzles the gold's foreclaw hopefully.

Wings fan out, head is held up, and the Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling... sits. If a hatchling could glare, she would--her eyes whirl red, and she regards the Candidates with something akin to contempt. She went through all that effort to get out of her egg, and here, she has /this/. A bunch of creatures in white. She makes a sharp, indignant noise, and then folds her wings again.

Jindra lifts a hand to her mouth, watching Tamial and Khavrineth with much amusement - and no small amount of sympathy for the former - as she ambles over to take up a spot near J'kan. "Don't mind, do you, Anceth?" Krysanth is all busy over there preening and playing fanfare for each of her hatchlings, after all. She won't notice. "In which case, you'll have your hands full with them as well. Sometimes, it's good to be the queen.. rider."

Khavrineth agrees brightly with Matrith. << Many blues. Many stuffed runners. >> Then she blinks and peers down with incandescent delight. << He wants me! >> She stretches to bump at Tamial. << Here! >> Look, ma, it followed me home!

Ramaki shakes her head, shrugging her shoulders before adjusting the sash on her robe. "Maybe. I could always try being nicer to you, if you'll promise to not tell me to do things?" The green is squinted at, but she returns to watching the antics of the blue. "That's an odd acting blue dragon, isn't it?"

Aewen grins, not a friendly look, more like a wolf stalking prey. She unconciously brushes back her hair, though it hasn't moved since she entered the sands. "My, the beauty is all so regal. My...." She glares shortly at Puo, and returns to stareing at the green.

Shannon slits her emerald eyes, nervously running a hand through her fiery orange hair. Note: Her hands have been in perpetual movement since the beginning, and don't appear to be slowing down any. "She thinks she's so...hrm. Well, little miss perfect?"

Garrett watches the blue still, although the green hatchling merits an appreciative look. He stifles a giggle as the little blue one approaches the gold, shaking his head a bit. "Hey, little guy," he says quietly, so the blue mightn't be able to hear, "we're over here, silly."

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue bumps his head against Khavrineth's side insistently, creeling all the while. His hopelessly stubby wings flutter in agitation - where's the beef?

Kaeralla watches the green intently, grinning a little at her attitude. "She's got a lovely color to her, and she's acting so imperial, the wrong color to be a queen though." her lips quirk slightly as she watches.

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling turns her head back, glancing up at Khavrineth--her mother--none-to-happily. She glowers, and sits. And sits. She's not moving, and nobody can make her, so there. The compliments, though, do seem to get through, and she peeks back in the direction of the Candidates. Maybe... but, no. She sits.

Unwavering Night-scape Egg rolls back across the sands, right at the candidates and *through* the line of candidates, nearly hitting a small lad from Ista.
Matrith tilts head to blink down -- /down/ -- at the Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue. Bemusedly.

Myca snorts in amusement as she watches the green. "Silly lady," she murmurs. "Aye, wrong color for a queen," she agrees, grinning at Kae. The rolling egg gets blinked at. "Wow. That's an energetic one."

S'ara is still standing there, talking to herself. Or Pakath. Or something. "That blue is just insane. I really don't want it in MY weyrling classes."

Puokano ponders a moment or so, gaze flickering from Ramaki to eggs to dragons. "Erm. Yeah. I guess so. But I don't tell you to do things, do I? Well..not much, anyway." Obligingly, he peers towards the blue, and agrees, "Strange." A smirk is directed towards the green, and he notes, "See? I told you greens were dumb."

Khavrineth purrchuffs happily, nosing down at the little blue. << Look, he wants to stay! >> Then something, some glimmer of memory, returns to her, and she abruptly rears way back. << It wants to EAT me? >> Tamial, approaching cautiously to shoo the little one back toward the Candidates, startles. "He does not!" << But babies eat mothers! >> "Where DID you get that idea? Come on, little guy, over -that- way."

Shannon peers over at S'ara, and laughs. "Hey, poor thing. Don't say that. I'm sure he'll shape up once he's been fed." The green gets another look over. "Pretty, but a handful in the long run is my bet."

<*Amhaleth*> Privately, Amhaleth reinforces her previous image threefold, except *this* time it's a green dragonet biting your head off. How...sweet.

J'kan just chuckles some more, commenting absently, "Well, after they all graduate, you've only got the one to deal with. Lovely one, at that." He blushes faintly as he sheepishly offers Jindra his hand, absently nodding toward the clutch. "I think this is Krysanth's best clutch so far, Jin..."

Chiming, with a crackle of brilliance, a forgotten verse rolls to its side. The light spills across its shell, rivulets breaking apart as colors separate and a shaft of blackness spears through. Angular body unwinding, the young-- black?-- dragon breaks loose and gathers himself to wobbling legs. The same light that rippled over his shell lights a haze of gold-dust and translucent green along his blade-fine throat.

Obsidian Blade Bronze Hatchling
In angularity this young one much resembles his dam, the carved planes of his body like volcanic glass chipped with a Master carver's precision. Whether his chiseled form was born of his long time in the egg, or heritage alone, only time can tell. Nowhere is this sharpness so apparent as in the head he holds with silent, near-menacing pride, where his muzzle narrows so exquisitely that the sheen of light gives him the look of a knife blade honed to perfection. Translucent green enamel and gold dust seem to overlay a core of darkness like the obsidian that gives him his shape; it lends him a hazy half-presence, not so much shadow as mirage.

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue cranes his neck up -- /up/ -- towards Matrith, creeling hopefully at the bronze. His tail flops back and forth in expectation, fat little feet dancing across the sands in excitement. Will /this/ one give him food?

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling glowers a bit more, since Khavrineth seems to be paying more attention to that ragged blue thing over there. The Candidates are paying attention to her. With a bit of hesitance, she steps forward, out of the shells of her egg and towards the Candidates. Pausing in front of one girl, she sniffs, then turns her head away, as if disgusted. Not good enough.

Kaeralla chuckles softly, amusement flickering in her eyes as she watches the green. "But she's so... so imperial. Just sitting there, watching. Think she'll be choosing anytime soon?" a wry glance is turned towards Myca for a moment and then back to the green. Mustn't let lose sight of her

S'ara purses her lips, "Bronze. Not bad. He's decent."

Aewen now laughs. Not the usual noise for a Candidate on the sands to make, and an exceedingly and decicidedly un-nice one at that. "Come here, little green who thinks she is a gold. Maybe you'll grow to fit your most regal attitude little one?" With that x-rated look of lust in her eyes, she, without actually moving, manages to look as if she is ready to pounce and wrestle the green to the ground.

Riko turns his head to look at the rather chosey green, "Picky, picky."

Ramaki tilts her head towards the green, before raising an eyebrow at the bronze. "You order me around, or try to, far more then you admit to." She adjusts the sash one-handedly again, eyes flicking from movement to movement before she notes -- "The bronze is nice looking."

Shannon lifts a brow curiously, just watching that green now. "Eh." Obviously she doesn't feel she needs to be speculated by that hatchling. Her gaze turns to the other eggs, and that blue. "Is he still undecided? Oh, look at that bronze."

Obsidian Blade Bronze Hatchling kicks a shard away from his hind claw with a savage jerk, then turns burning coal eyes on the Candidates. Against his dark, dark coloring they seem to glow with their own light, capturing the glitter of the hatching sands. His muzzle twitches, and his lips writhe back from tiny hatchling teeth, then settle again. He -needs- something, and slips forward a pace or two with innate assurance.

Matrith lowers muzzle a bit more, alarmed by his mate's concern. He whuffs emphatically at the blue hatchling, half-heartedly nudging him towards the candidates. There. /They'll/ give you food. If you pick the right one.

"But he would've finished the collection!" R'ken protests up at Khavrineth and at Tamial, barely stifling a giggle. "All colors, you know." He's moving out as soon as this hatching is over, like he said. He really is. "He still might. Cam, d'you think you could get Mat to Impress to him?" he wonders hopefully, grins, then turns to eye the bronzer thoughtfully. "Eh." He's a brownrider; forgive him. "I guess he's nice enough."

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue is rocked by the force of Matrith's whuff - it might just be a little puff of breath to a big bronze like him, but to the little hatchling it has all of the force of a gale. The blue bawls, this time, backing rapidly away from the bronze. You are not my mommy! You are a /snort/!

Puokano protests, "I do /not!/" Ramaki's hand is clenched harder still; it's a wonder he doesn't break fingers. "No it isn't," he contends, focusing upon the bronze in question. "None of them are. Can we please leave now, though? I wanna get out before any more of these dragon-things come over. My feet hurt. The exit's just that way - we can get out and no one will notice one bit."

"Easy, love." Tamial reaches up to soothe Khavrineth, watching the blue with bemusement. "He won't eat you." << He might! >> "He won't." << But he might! >>

Matrith blinkblinks after the Rag-Doll blue. Of course he's not /mommy/. That'd make things.. awkward. He's /Matrith/, see? "I don't /think/ so," C'drel answers firmly to R'ken. "The weyr needs expanding as is." Oops. Did he say that aloud? He flusters, shooting sheepish look to Tamial.

Jindra arches a brow in J'kan's direction, though she does take that offered hand without an arguement. After all it /is/ exciting out here. Nice to share it with someone. "Anceth's proven a good choice time and again, after all." She casts a glance out toward the candidates, watching the resultant chaos of the hatching, the reactions of some. She leans in a bit, murmuring teasingly as she watches the blue, "He must get that from Anceth's side of the family."

Obsidian Blade Bronze Hatchling suddenly strikes out, forward with an ungainly gait lacking only in practice. His eyes glimmer, whirling briefly with starstorms of white, then turning again to their bloody crimson. The shift and play of luminescence brings out the green-gold hue that overlays his darker shade -- some Master crafter's work in pottery, or stone. One boy draws a little too close, struggling to catch his eye, and with a lash of impatience claws rake his thigh. The moment his way is clear, the bronze moves on, indifferent, heading for a knot of Candidates remaining.

Garrett glances around at the other candidates, giving Puke a bit of an odd look, then looks to that one little blue again, frowning at the sound of his cry. Crouching down a little, he slides his glasses back into place on his nose, and watches the little Rag-Doll blue.

Myca chuckles as she watches the blue. "You'd think he'd be really hungry by now and wanting his lifemate instead of clowning around like that," she comments quietly to Brianora, "I wonder if maybe he got addled in the shell?"

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling continues along the row, pausing before a certain boy--but then turning away, again. Complains too much. She wanders along the line, her long tail trailing behind her, wings half-spread now in an attempt to keep eyes on her, as opposed to the others. A sharp bugle, and not a happy one, before another glance back at her mother. Please, you expect her to Impress to /these/?

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue seems more worried that Khavrineth will eat /him/, now - he scampers away towards the candidates, clawing the sand for some moments before he actually begins moving. A young candidate from Ista is bowled over quite accidentally, knocked backwards onto the sand with little effect save a bruised bum.

Bright eyes of shell break apart, revealing a fellis-dark green. She staggers loose of her shards, wandering across the expanse of dividing sand between clutch and clutch, away from Khavrineth's and toward Krysanth's. But halfway there she meets shoulder to shoulder with a bigger bronze going the other way, and the two support each other all unwittingly off to one side, where Candidates wait.

"There he goes," replies Brianora, looking at the Istan boy with a little concern. "Whoever gets him will have his or her hands full, that's for sure."

Aewen's eyes happily rest apon the green, taking in every curve and line. "Pretty, regal wondrous green shaded lady, please grace my unworthy soul."

Ramaki is a bit slow, but she shrugs. "It's almost over. I think we can go soon.. I think I want to get changed, too. There's sand in my robe, some how, and I'm hungry now." The dragonets are watched and she notes again -- "The bronze really is nice looking."

Garrett gulps, and stands quickly, so as better to be able to dodge out of the way in case one of the hatchlings heads his way. He looks almost as if he expects even the little blue to come at him with those egg-sharp teeth and claws of his, and a wavering glance at Drekyn points to the cause.

T'ela returns from helping a new pair off the the weyrling cavern, eyes narrowing as she spots the clawed boy. "S'ara!" A glance is thrown to the other weyrlingmaster as T'ela hurries off towards him. "Give me a hand!" Firm hands take the boy bends down to peer at the wound. "Not so bad..." She murmurs softly, propelling him off towards the healers.

Shannon covers her ears and peers at the green. "Hey," is all she states, glancing up into the galleries. "Hrm...well there's got to be someone for every hatchling out here, right?" She turns to reguard Tamial, hoping she said that loud enough to be heard by at least one of the riders.

S'ara glances at the eggs, at the hatchlings, and at the unhatched eggs. She tilts her head into a nod, and then strides back towards the Weyrling Room.
S'ara walks into the side cave.

Puokano impudently sticks out his tongue after the disliked green: "Ugh. Please, Ramaki? Hurry, hurry." He tugs impatiently, intent upon escape. "I want to leave now. Before one of the things tries to maul me. You wouldn't like that, would you? You'd have blood all over your robe. Wouldn't be fun." He attempts to entice Ramaki -- or scare her -- away from the sands. "It's ugly, and I wanna leave."

Kaeralla keeps her eyes on the green, just waiting and watching. Her hands have long since fallen from her ears to clench tightly at the fabric of her robe. "No dragons like Puo." she leans in closer to Myca to whisper those words. "Where's that green headed?"

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling lets out a soft breath that could almost be a sigh, and then her head swivels about, before eyes fix on the Candidate right in front of her. Someone, at last, good enough? And pretty, too, with that honey-gold hair. Pretty enough for /this/ hatchling, anyway. She noses lightly at Myca's hand, imperitive, yet gentle, and croons. Pay attention to her!

A dark head turns, pointing knife-sharp toward a sound. It heard the voice. Twisting angular and glittering, crimson eyes focus, and forward he goes. This time the young bronze seems to know his destination, and he comes up hard upon Ramaki, where he pauses. Lips writhe back from teeth again, and he gives a low, sibilant his of -- frustration? Anger? Certainly the wings flash like lightning as he draws back, and his tail lashes the sand.

J'kan gives another nervous chuckle, Jindra-ward, as he squeezes her hand lightly. "Ah, same family, clutchmate." He comments, one sky-blue eye winking. "Oooh, looks like that lovely Green from the othr clutch may have finally found someone..." He watches, quietly.

T'ela ducks her shoulder under the wounded boy's arm and leads him off to the small cavern, glancing back at the sands for just a moment.

Drekyn watches the wounded boy with - yes, that's a hint of concern lingering around the set of her jaw. That is, perhaps, even more frightening than the stalking bronze - or at least more disturbing. "Get him some hot water for a compress, but don't take him off the sands 'till it's over," she cautions the healers. One of them gives her a dark look, and Drekyn narrows her eyes. "If his lifemate's over there, you'll have /two/ deaths, instead of one injury," she snaps. And that, as far as Drekyn is concerned, is that - she turns to glance up briefly at the ledges before returning her attention to the hatchlings.
Shannon offers Myca a compliant grin. "Oh, she's so pretty.

Eclipse breaks, freeing a blue like daytime sky -- in parts other than the cloud-shrouded Starmount. So, too, does the egg like sun's splendor -- also blue. It seems Khavrineth's bet was accurate; many blues from the clutch. These two, light and medium-hued, barely glance before making tracks quite literally toward their lifemates, leaving a paltry two eggs left in the young queen's clutch.

Puokano hisses, "Now! Do you want to be next? Come on, Ramaki!" He pulls insistantly, nearly crouched down behind his fostersister. That way if the bronze attacks, he'll have something of a human shield. "Let's go!"

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue reaches the bronze hatchling, snuffling /him/ this time. Maybe he's a snort, too, but at least he's just a little one. The blue tries his signature creel on the dark bronze, waggling his tail hopefully.

Ramaki blinks at the bronze, tilting her head curiously. "I'm a girl. You can't impress to me. Go away, please, I'm trying to have a conversation.." She turns bac to Puo, shrugging at the hurry, hurry. "I'm sorry, but the hatchings don't follow my direction. Maybe you can ask the weyrwomen to hurry it up?"

Jindra pushes up on tiptoe, using J'kan's hand for balance, and offers up a merry smile as she watches the green, bronze, and blue, as well as the other scattered dragonets that wander the sands just now, make their rounds. "Hmm. We'll have to corner Oneah and Kor about that then. Goodness only knows which one of his grandparents he got it from then."

Shannon taps two fingers gently against her thighs in that semi-nervous manner. "Where /is/ that blue?" she asks, peering around the scattered group of what's left within the candidates.

The Unwavering Night-scape Egg rolls onto its side, though it has barely yet begun to crack. But with an incredibly loud *snap*, three fractures suddenly appear lining down the ovoid's surface, shattering the peace of its pattern. A pause is taken for a moment, as if the hatchling was gathering its strength, then a dark, color-splashed head rams through the tough surface with surprising force, followed by the rest of a sleek green body as the hatchling bursts from her egg amid a spray of shards.

Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling
Proud and tall, that this green knows her own worth is obvious in the tilt of her head and the measure of her paces, even as she seeks out one worthy of herself with that sharp gaze. For her gaze is indeed sharp - jeweled orbs have been elongated, stretched out horizontally into something of a permanent squint, and set wide in her long, angular face. The glint of her hide, now the dark shade of green of shadowed leaves, then melding to a paler shade of sunkissed olive, off-sets her leanly muscular body, the delicately proud bones obvious not only with hatching-starvaton but an inherent leanness. But the most spectacular feature of her unique coloration doesn't become obvious until she turns her back, for spread across her back and wingsails is a pattern of brightest golden red, like the setting sun with rays outstretched over olive wingspars and tough, transulcent wingsails. The pattern is rendered nearly invisible over the front of her wings, though slender traceries are visible wending their way down whipcord lean, short tail and criss-crossing over her spinal ridges up to her head, ending in a spash of bright coppery gold over one headknob.

C'drel lets out his breath slowly, eyes shining with delight. "Yes, 'loved. They're all finding their mates," he murmurs under his breath, glancing up towards where Matrith continues to humm, eyes whirling blue-green. He winces lightly as he watches one of the candidates injured, chewing lip thoughtfully before gaze flickers back over the remaining hatchlings.

Another hiss, this one sharper, then broken off. So it wasn't her voice. His muzzle stretches toward Ramaki, nostrils flared, then turns. The ruddy hue melts from his eyes, leaving behind an almost impossibly rich, crystalline blue. Ignoring his clutchmate with a surety of purpose direct as a striking arrow and abruptly still as the stone he resembles, he studies Puokano.

Resonant as a great bell, yet distant and dark, a voice interrupts thought, brings all to a halt like the ringing of a call to order or a -- dragon's bugle. << Ah. Ah, one worthy. >> Not so much arrogance as perfect knowledge of royalty sings clear in these words, in this voice that knows you. << You are O'kano, >> the young lordling declares, as much a Lord as any Holder man, and more, easily sliding your name into one that suits him better, a badge of honor. << And I am Jharzeth. >>

Flame-Crested Firebrand Green Hatchling looks deeply into Myca's eyes.

Drekyn glances up at the ledges once again, beaming up at the barely visible Drat. "Mummy sees you," she says, waving a hand. She glances towards the pudgy little blue, and shakes her head sadly. "Dim as a thirtysecond-mark candle," she mutters.

Aewen glares at the back of the Firebrand's head, and transfers her gaze to the possibly even more regal, heir apparent (she can only hope) to her soul. "Wow."
Shannon's eyes widen as she spots Puokano and the bronze. "My my..." The hatching green gets a glance, but by now the candidate's body is numbed from the heat. She does her best, shifting back and forth, to try and sooth her aching body.

Myca looks startled as the green stops in front of her and her hand reaches out autoamtically to pet the small hatchling, then she freezes -- the lesson not to touch hatchlings apparently ingrained in her psyche. Sea green eyes meet whirling ones for a split-second of eternity before she finishes the motion and delicately caresses the green muzzle. "Eilanth," she says slowly, testing the name, then more loudly in triumphant wonder, "Eilanth!"

Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue appears to have found a role model. He follows the bronze's example, making his own wheezing attempt at a hiss and snuffling first Ramaki, then Puokano. He keeps an eye on the bronze, however, as if awaiting further examples.

Fading Dew Egg spins over once, rocking against the remanents of shells, left by clutchsiblings who have already found their mates. Not /late/, precisely. An important date? Perhaps so. Movement is increasing, at least.

Ramaki wrinkles her nose, and steps back -- "I guess you aren't going home now, are you? At least he left me alone." She releases Puokano's hand, shuffling back a step to glare at the blue. "I really want to go get changed, and eat something, and sleep for a while."

Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling lets out a thin little wail as that egg shell gives way, sending her tail over head into the sand. With a shake of her copper-splashed head, she gathers herself and rises to her shaky feet, swaying slightly. Slightly narrowed eyes are blinked as the little green looks over her shoulder to hiss at the shards of her egg. Such shoddy workmanship. Simply won't do.

Kaeralla's eyes widen as she sees Myca being picked right next to her. "Oh, felicitations Myca." Kae grins. "She's lovely, and Eilanth is such a nice name."
Shannon turns to reguard Myca. "Eilanth, congratulations!" The new green is spared a chuckle as the candidate notes her retort pending the shell shards.

Aewen hummms under her breath, an old song that her mother sang to her. "Poor one. I shal comfort you, should you allow me to."

Garrett glares at Drekyn's comment, still trying to sidle away from any hatchlings that come near. He has a smile for the little blue, though, as he seems to be almost getting the hang of things. "That's it," he says quietly under his breath.

Riko watches as a Myca and Puokano impress, a whisper of "Congratulations." Comes out of his mouth.

Green and green break from shells in opposite clutches, a starlit scene and treasures of the deep both shattered to smithers by the hatchlings they can no longer hold. Tottering feet grapple with sand, and off they wander for the remains of the crowd -- still too many to choose from.

Fading Dew Egg shudders delicately, rolling over once in an attempt to get out of the small dip in which it's been ensconced. Out, out, damn spot. Over and over it rolls, now nearly at the feet of dam and sire.

Puokano's attempts to leave the sands come to direct stand-still as the lordling ceases his tugging upon Ramaki's hand; he freezes. "What -- what -- you like that better?" Uncertainty edges the youth's tone -- O'kano's tone -- as his full attention is laid upon the bronze, Ramaki forgotten, heat forgotten, desire to escape and return to his original home forgotten. "Of course it is, Jharzeth. Jharzeth.." Words fail him, and Puo stands limply, arms at his sides and expression confounded.

Eilanth croons again, looking up into the eyes of her new lifemate, and then her tail swishes back and forth, eyes whirling red, still.

J'kan gives the hand he's clutching another squeeze. "Look, look, Jin. That bronze finally stopped by someone." Can't see from here...Drat, drat, drat... Blue eyes squint as he leans forward, trying to see... "It's /Puokano/!" He laughs aloud, at that. Err, no offense, Puokano. The Weyrleaders probably had similar reactions when Anceth found him, after all.

"It only goes to show that some bronzes have no taste," R'ken comments slowly, nose crinkling. "I mean, some have very good taste, like Mat over there, but --" Lip curls, in briefly amused smirk, before he tells Drekyn generously, "You can go get Puke, lover-blue." It's really nice that he's out of reach, prior to moving on to Myca. "She's -lovely-. And probably hungry. Over this way?" he comments, gesturing towards the tunnel off the sands.

Drekyn frowns slightly, eyeing the pairing between Puokano and the bronze. "No accounting for taste," she mutters darkly.

C'drel blinks over in the direction of the bronze hatchling. "Did he just--?" he blinks up at Matrith, then quietly joins in J'kan's laughter. "The dragon always knows, right?"

You sense Jharzeth sends, << I do. >> He agrees without compromise, and stays, vision matched, mind and heart. << We fit. And I hunger, >> he adds with a savage need that is well a part of him. << I hunger. >>

Jharzeth holds his place, watching Puokano -- O'kano now -- with an intent gaze brilliant as broken shards. Only his tail sways slightly, and his foreclaws flex in the sand.

"Of course we can eat now, darling," murmurs Myca, still looking adoringly into Eilanth's hungr-hued eyes. She looks around and spies the doorway to the weyrlingroom and starts that direction hesitantly, then more decisively.

Jindra's brows dart up, though J'kan's laughter is infectious enough. Oh she remembers quite well indeed the way it all went back then, even if she wasn't out on the sands for that bit way back when. "Here's hoping the results are as good," she quips, giving J'kan's hand a light squeeze.

Drekyn catches R'ken's comment a beat late, and her frown deepens into a full-fledged scowl. "Right, then," she snaps, waving Puokano towards the side-cave. "Feed him, or be fed /to/ him, either way it's all the same to me."

Myca walks into the side cave.

"Oh, Faranth." Tamial peeks past Khavrineth, looking pained. "He chose /Puokano/? Good shells, I pity the Weyrlingmasters." She shivers, grimacing, and reaches up to caress Khav's muzzle as shards topple and scatter, the last few hatchlings. "They look a fitting pair, at least."

Eilanth walks into the side cave.

Rising, rising, risen. Or perhaps, more accurately: rising, falling, cracked, for the Fading Dew Egg has fallen into a pile of ruin, shards littering the sands about it. Perhaps it was trod on? Or fell on? But no, one nearby might have heard the gentle, musical pops as verdant fell into golden sand, and the seering sun set glistening onto the hide of the blue dragon left sprawled in its wake.

Discarded Velvet Blue Hatchling
The most ornate velvet robe of a royal king, worn down to a startlingly streaked shade of purple -- intermixed with the royal shades of its former life -- shrouds itself around this blue hatchling. A tableau of rampaging violet states its territory in no uncertain turns, wrecking havoc atop his finely turned muzzle, and the less certain shades of royal blue -- like pristine velvet -- that gently elongate his already gently curved neck, gently dusted with the finest covering of grey, as if a coating of dust. The dismal remainders of days long gone entrance the faded cobalt of his flanks, signalling blue-black swirls to take over the march of musical staccato down his lengthy limbs, and the bleached aquamarine of the dank curves of his gentle belly, dipped in long hardened mud. Dulled lackluster performs distant memories atop his wings -- playing at tunes unheard -- calypsoed in a gentle wash of syenite, performing into the vague unknown of navy talons.

Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling snorts and shakes her head again, nearly toppling herself with the force of it. Woooah. Not good at *all*. Crimson whirling eyes blink, then focus in on the line of white-things, eyes narrowing all the more as she holds her head high, putting on a rather haughty expression from one so young from the egg. Olive wings are extended and given an akward shake, the motion sending egg goo flying over the nearest candidates though she ignores it with disdain. Not her concern, those pathetic white-things.

Ramaki shakes her head, shifting backwards from the newly impressed thing-that-was-Puo, folding her arms in front of herself before glancing at the new blue and the other hatchlings still on the sand. "At least now I don't have to deal with him." She offers to the air, distractedly shuffling her feet on the sand.

Puokano reluctantly releases his gaze upon Jharzeth long enough to eye Drekyn, the well-known glare seeping through. "He's hungry, and he's not going to eat me," declares O'kano. But then, he moves as directed, slanting a glance after his former fostersister, and encourages Jharzeth along: "This way. We'll stop the hunger."

Dragonet Annex(#1507RJM)
Arching about ten feet overhead, the walls of this sand-and-wind smoothed cave gleam with an ancient sheen, the granite polished over centuries, even milllennia of weather. The only opening leads out to the sands, an overhang shielding this annex from the heat. Tables line the walls here, most stacked with old rags, paddles, brushes, and oil pots for the newly hatched dragonets and their lifemates. To another side is a bin for chunks of meat, that the new rider can feed his or her partner and still the hatchling hunger. From here the sands can be seen and clearly heard, a perfect place for the new pairs to stay and watch the rest of the hatching before going on to their new home in the barracks.

Jharzeth walks in from the sands.

On the sands, Shannon's lips curve down as she peers around to see where that pudgy little blue went. "Is he gonna be okay?" she asks quietly, face turning to the green, and away again upon the newest hatchling's entrance. "Attitude," is all she comments in the general direction of the sunset green.

Eilanth steps gingerly towards the side of the sands, pausing now and then to keep her adoring gaze on Myca, as if unwilling to look away now that she's found someone perfect. Now that someone has mentioned food, though, she stops stock-still, right where she is. Food can come to her, right? She's tired of walking.

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue looks crestfallen as he is ignored by both O'kano and the bronze, and wobbles sadly away with his head hung. He flops down onto a patch of sand, chubby limbs splayed haphazardly, and heaves a mournful sigh. Everyone seems to have found out how to get food but him - maybe it's a conspiracy of some sort.

On the sands, J'kan blushes faintly at that, though he does laugh again, leaning close to Jindra to half-whisper, "We'll just have to put him in Tempest Wing, after they graduate. I'm /sure/ Tia will be happy to have him." He's not even being sarcastic, either. Poor T'ila.

On the sands, Discarded Velvet Blue Hatchling stretches his wings, tentatively, flexing them experimentally. Hmm. Interesting. Wings. Maybe if he-- no, no. He can't fly yet. Siigh. But surely there's something better to be doing. Hatching is so /boring/ -- all that rocking and tapping and the like -- he's got to spice things up a bit. Abruptly, he lets out quite a loud, intense bugle. Hah! That'll get their attention. All that humming's so monotonous, you know. Gotta add a little variety.

Jharzeth moves after O'kano, edged head turning to inspect everything in passing, though he presses nearer the boy. The red seeps back into his eyes now: hunger returning.

S'ara raises her brows, staring at O'kano. There's a long pause. Finally: "Food. Oh. He'll be hungry. Come here, Puke." Yes, you make her puke. "Now."

You sense Jharzeth sends, << Red meat. >> He knows what he wants. << I would never eat you. We will hunt. >> Somewhere he's already gathered that notion, that knowing. << You suit. You suit well. >>

On the sands, Kaeralla turns to watch the green hatchling, the noble little one, now. Hands still clutch at the fabric of her robe, beginning to whiten themselves with the strain of holding herself there, with watching the remaining hatchling. She shifts again, repostioning her feet as she waits.

On the sands, Aewen smiles faintly at The Noble little lady, remembering her brother's impression, to a little lady so like this one. "Come on, beautiful one. You really should find someone to properly appreciate you."

On the sands, Riko dumb-struck the moment he walked on to the sands, he finaly realizes that his feet are now scorching hot. He wobles back and forth trying to keep the heat down.

On the sands, Shannon winces, not bothering to cover her ears this time. "If the harpers would accept dragons as apprentices..." The candidates around her seem to have dissapeared one by one, so now she stands by herself, a few feet seperation between her and the nearest little hand-held clusters.

On the sands, Garrett replies to Shannon's overheard comment, "I hope so..." then carefully walks over towards the sprawled figure of the rather rotund hatchling. "Hey, little guy," he says, half-grinning as he approaches - but not too close. "You look awful hungry..."

Myca shakes her head and chuckles at the dainty little green. "Oh, no, you don't," she says bemusedly. "I love you very much, but I refuse to spoil you just yet... C'mon, love. Just a few more steps." Myca heads for the nearest bin and scoops up a handful of meat and brings it back. "I'll give you a bite for every step you take."

Coriianna smiles. A croon only a mother, or a newly-Impressed weyrling, could love. She gets the oil rubbed in all over the tail, watching him stretch his wings. "You're beautiful. Anywhere else that's itching in particular?" she asks him softly, starting to rub the oil in up his spine, marvelling at the sheer softness of his hide.

On the sands, Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling folds damp wings to her side once more, and shifts that haughty gaze from the white-things to the nearest blue, and lets out a commanding, if thin, bugle in his direction. Come here you! Serve me! Dark legs fold beneath her wiry body as she attempts to sit and be waited on, until -UMPH! Apparently, she hadn't yet discovered her tail, for she attempts sit down on *top* of it, only to roll off and to her side with a distressing wail - Tail's *aren't* good for sitting on!

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue adds his own sympathetic wail to the green's, flopping /his/ tail dejectedly around the sands. Gathering his strength he rises to his feet once again, tottering - oh, no! In the wrong direction again, he heads back towards the clutchparents.

On the sands, Shannon snickers quietly at the green. A soft almost undeterminable, "Duh," is rolled off her tongue as her head tilts to the side, following the hatchling's movement.

On the sands, Tamial, for all she's trying to watch, keeps losing to distraction by Khavrineth. << There, >> the dragon insists, and her lifemate reaches to scratch as indicated. << Hungry too, >> she adds petulantly. << They're all hungry, it makes me hungry. >> "You -are- hungry. So am I." << We will go and eat? >> "Right afterward, dearheart. Not much longer." She glances to Cam, brows rising inquisitively. "Does this mean I can move back into the weyr? Have you left room?"

On the sands, Discarded Velvet Blue Hatchling takes a few steps, and immediately flops over -- and picks himself up just as quickly. No one saw that, right? You couldn't spot him in a crowd or anything? Certainly not. Hrmph. Head cants this way and that, examining with impatient curiousity. Hey, what're those white things? Maybe they'll enjoy listening to his voice? Careful steps become more certain as the blue takes care not to trip, again. Let's see, what to try now? Ah--- /crooooooooonwhuff/. Sly, sideways glance is shot to see how those white-ones react. The green's dismay -- and wail -- is noted, with smug amusement. Hah. He wouldn't fall over like that, now would he? Really.

Puokano affirms simply, "He is." For once, the lordling hops-to, failing to drag feet or shuffle or anything associated with Puke-normality. "Red?" he inquires of S'ara hopefully. "He wants red meat." O'kano glances down at Jharzeth, fingers lingering upon neckridges as he notes grimly, "Hunting means blood. Lots -- ew. I don't like that sort of thing much." A faint smile forms. "We suit."

On the sands, Aewen is also standing by herself, and worriedly moves a few steps towerds the green, but stops just as quickly. She looks out, helplessly, and thinks loudly at the green to choose her, regardless of the fact she knows it won't help. "I'll serve you, if you'll let me."

On the sands, Riko eyes the green hatchling sympatheticly, but his attention is brought to the moving blue.

Eilanth apparently considers this at least decent, considering how hungry she is, so she continues walking, towards the apparent source of food. After a few steps, she pauses, takes a deep breath, and takes a few more. Another croon, hopeful.

On the sands, C'drel turns attention from the hatchlings, flustering at Tamial's question. "Of /course/ there's room," he insists. Not looking at R'ken at all. Nope. "But ah.. maybe we should have a little talk about that. After," he adds wryly, as Matrith blinks down at the blue. Back /again/? Didn't I already send you away? Hatchlings have got to fly the nest /sometime/.

S'ara pauses. Red meat. Right. Slowly, she nods her head, and brings over a bucket of meat. "It's meat. It's all the same. Feed him. Okay?"

You sense Jharzeth sends, << That feels good. >> The touch on his neckridges; he isn't one to be sappy, but you -- you are an exception. << Do that more. Yes, red. Blood. >> His jaw drops, waiting as he scents the meat. << We'll hunt. You'll like it. I'll show you how to like it. >>

Coriianna nods, moving forward to his wings. "Well, then, they're next on the list," she assures Khanueth. "Could you spread them out a bit there? Yes, they're wings. Beautiful ones, too. I'll need to get every bit of wing with this oil."

Jharzeth opens his maw, a flick-quiver running down angular neckridges as he leans into his touch. Hunger apparent, his eyes whirl into deeper reds, though still mingled with blue and violet. Contentment and need.

On the sands, Kaeralla begins to giggle, perhaps it's just the noble green's antics of falling off her tail. But she quickly regains control, clamping a hand across her mouth as she watches the little green, her gaze also flickering towards the two blues. Who will they choose? Her other hand however remains tightly clenched to the side of her robe.

On the sands, Jindra shakes her head, smirking a bit, "Oh she'll love you for that, no doubt about it. Just remind me not to be there when the weyrling's are tapped." Still, there's dragons afoot, and that blue's starting to make her wonder. "What /is/ he up to?"

On the sands, Shannon spies the blue fall, but just bites her lip and hides a smile creeping up on her lips. "Heh," she states in appreciation for that garbled, whuffing noise. "Cute." She reaches back down to the sands, remembering that wherhide strip, and quickly moves her hands to tie her hair up in a runnertail, the heat almost becoming too unbearable.

Khanueth has a look at these wings of his. Oh. Wings. Interesting. He spreds them curiously, turning his head to look at them. Why, how interesting.

On the sands, But the poor Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue hatchling /can't/ fly, as is illustrated by a few feeble flaps of his wings. See? He steers a wide course around Matrith this time, headed for Jindra instead. A snuffle, and a sniffle, and a wail - /where/ can he get some food?

Myca rewards Eilanth just as she promised. Each step that the green takes, Myca gives her a piece of meat to chew on. "You need to chew, honey," she reminds anxiously. "Mash it between your teeth. Makes it taste better."

On the sands, Tamial eyes Cam, suddenly looking wary. "We have to have a -talk- about it? Cam, m'love, I don't like the sound of that...." But /he/ seems to be back again, so she peers at the blue. "He's really determined to move in, isn't he? Oh, good, he's going that way."

On the sands, Ramaki shifts her weight, tilting her head slightly as she reaches back to scratch at her back, before beginning to giggle a bit at the still roaming blue. As opposed to the more recently hatched blue, you know. "Dragons seem to be very, ah, confused when they first hatch.."

Eilanth tries this, chewing very purposefully, and then opening her mouth for more, with another little step just to ensure that more comes. Her eyes have lost a little bit of their red, at least.

Puokano eyes the bucket rather distastefully; despite himself, he inquires, "Do I have to pick it up?" In the next breath, though, he agrees, "Okay." He grasps the handle, and dubiously tells the bronze, "I don't think I'll ever like hunting. It's easier just to let people bring you stuff, anyways. It's beneath me to hunt." And then, he peers back at S'ara. "What do I do?"

On the sands, "Look, you two, I really can move out. 'Myth and I found a weyr that looks to our liking --" R'ken starts to protest, upon catching up with the conversation. "Well, it would complete -- though it'ld be uncomplete again, anyway." Hurried, that. "There the fellow goes again. He's got lungs, if nothing else," comments the brownrider with a twitch. "Whoo, Jin! He'd much such a cute little companion for Krysanth, he really would." Snicker.

On the sands, Jindra peers at the wayward blue oddly, "Nonono, silly. There!" She points imperiously out toward the candidates. "Pick one of them. /They'll/ feed you, you little ninny. G'won. Before you starve." Huff. Blues.

"Give him the meat?" S'ara suggests, rolling her eyes. "What else? Make him open his mouth, and put it in. Make sure he chews. And swallows." Obviously. She rolls her eyes a bit more, turning to watch over another weyrling, keeping an eye out for them all.

You sense Jharzeth sends, << Beneath you! >> This rouses his indignation. << Hunting is right! Hunting is -proper-. Proud. Biting, tearing-- >> He flares with hunger and reaches toward the bucket. << For me. Here. Give! >>

On the sands, "It's nothing bad, love," C'drel hastens to assure Tamial, "Really." Which is why he's being so assuring about it. Gaze flickers to the blue, wryly. "He's /still/ out here? Oh, no--" he begins to protest over R'ken's words, before he bits his lip. /Later/.

Jharzeth stretches toward the bucket, lips curling back as he reaches for it with hatchling teeth, wings spreading for balance and tail curling.

On the sands, Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling shrieks again, the shade of her eyes taking on a more orange cast as she staggers to her feet, hissing furiously at the Discarded Velvet Blue. You! How dare you laugh at me! Shaking her overlarge head, narrowed eyes blink as she catches sight of her sand-spotted hide, letting out a dismayed eep. That simply *won't* do! One step forward, then another, is taken towards the wall of white-things almost before she realizes it, but she manages to pull herself together, and, sandy and all, lifts her head high to peer down her nose at the candidates, walking down the line. Riko is paused by for a mere second, and Ramaki and a girl beside her, but the green just gives a little snort and moves on. They just simply won't do, either!

On the sands, "You most certainly don't have to move out if you don't want to," Tamial grumbles at R'ken, heaving a sigh. "Faranth," she adds, and turns on Cam. "You'd better believe we need to talk. I can't afford a second renovation, for Egg's sake."

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue creels again, nuzzling impatiently at Jindra's ankles. But they're so far away, and she's right /here/. Surely it would be far too taxing on the little blue's strength to force him to wobble /all that way/ across the sands! He squeals again, thumping his tail against the ground and scattering sand every which way. There's got to be food /somewhere/, and he already checked the candidates, besides.

Coriianna smiles. "Thank you," she tells Khanueth sweetly, moving to very gently rub oil in to every bit of wingsail. Can't have any problems there, they're delicate, must be strong to fly one day. "Could you move your head just a bit?" she asks Khanueth gently as she is blocked from getting to the other side of the wing by his nose.

On the sands, Riko looks over the green as she approaches then passes by.

Myca beams at her lifemate and caresses her cheek with one hand while offering up more piece of meat. Step by step they close in on the buckets of meat and can be stationary while feeding. "You are quite the lady, Eilanth," she murmurs admiringly, a half-dreamy look in her eyes. "S'ara, is there any food here for -us-?" she asks, looking a little embarassed. "I can't tell if I'm really hungry or if it's just her hunger feeding back on me, but..."

On the sands, Shannon tips her head to the green as she wanders down the line. "Well," she comments softly. "Two down. Not the luckiest number in the world for me." She edges a bit closer to Aewen and asks, "It's blazing hot isn't it?"

On the sands, Aewen stands a little taller, though it's not going to help, sleep is starting to catch up with her, and well, she's not the most clear headed one when tired.

On the sands, Kaeralla seems to have recovered her control. That and it's getting a little difficult to breathe with her hand clamped over her mouth like that. So the appendage is returned to her robe, griping the white fabric tightly as she watches the green's march. "Where is she going?" is Kae's soft question, perhaps to nobody in particular.

On the sands, Jindra reaches up a hand to scrub at her face, peering down at the blue. "I'm taken. Shells, I'm taken by her!" She jerks a thumb toward Krysanth, who cranes her neck to peer over at the blue as if to emphasize that. /Mine./ But thank you for playing. "A'ight, don't make me cart your little blue tush back over there. I will. Don't doubt it for a minute."

On the sands, Ramaki shakes her head at the passing dragons, and starts inching towards Riko. "What do you think about all -- this. Especially that blue?" She fiddles with the hanging end of her sash, again, tucking it up under the part of itself around her waist, after a moment. "That's not how I've heard dragons are supposed to act.."

Khanueth moves his head just like that, just in time for another screech of iritation. His feed begin flailing in the air, prompting him to quite obviously fall onto his side. Splat. Oops.

On the sands, Discarded Velvet Blue Hatchling :is definitely smug. See? /He's/ interesting and wonderful and would be ohso fun and bright for whoever he chooses -- er. He's not exaggerating. Just.. creative. Really! Hey-- what's that his clutchsibling's being told? Plaintative rumble is sent, before eyelids blink in mild surprise. Hmm. Food. Yeah! Lookatthat! Wow. Can he get food too? He pads up to the nearest candidate, and immediately begins snuffling at the poor girl's hem. Hmm. Maybe? He /could/ make her life quite interesting. Yes? Indeed. But you've got to pay attention first.

On the sands, Discarded Velvet Blue Hatchling looks deeply into Shannon's eyes.

O'kano nods, reaching into the bucket to reluctantly finger a bloody piece of meat. Ugh. "Hold on! You're impatient." But then, so's Puo. "Here, here -- just don't take my fingers, too." He offers out the desired flesh, which quickly disappears in Jharzeth's maw, and he hastens to replace his handful. "Of course it's beneath me. I'm not going to go bite and tear and all.../fine/! Fine. Maybe it's okay for you," he relents.

S'ara blinks, turning around, and smiling at Myca. "If you've time to eat, sure." She nods her head, moving away, and returning with a tray of somewhat cold meatrolls, passing them around. "You all should eat, really. Good for you."
On the sands, Riko grins, as he looks off to the blue again, "I think he rocked himself too hard in his shell."

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue whimpers, backing away from the big gold snort. He trips over his own tail and gets bowled over backwards, sprawled flat on the sands with a *whump* and a wail.

On the sands, Garrett shakes his head at the little blue, still wearing a silly, shameless grin. "Naah," he says, overhearing Riko, "he's just a little confused. Wouldn't you be, if you just fell out of an egg?" He winces in sympathy as the clumsy critter topples onto his back.

Coriianna ouches in dismay. "Oh, dear! I didn't mean to unbalance you!" she cries and moves to help him up. "Are you okay?" She inspects him for any damage. Just her luck, get a big wonderful dragon and she can't even keep him safe for an hour!

On the sands, Shannon pauses abruptly from mid snort, to turn her gaze upon the velvety blue. "Faravoth's your name? Well yes, I suppose you are perfect." Pausing, she kneels down before him and wraps her arms about his neck. "I'm hungry too, let's get you fed first shall we? You aren't going to starve to death silly. Come on." Smiling, she turns about and peers to see where those Weyrlingmasters went.

On the sands, Aewen calls cangratulations to Shannon, and returns to trying to subconciously impress the green.

Khanueth tests his feet, waggling them in the air. Interesting. But they itch! Itchyitchyitchy! He pulls himself up, slowly, crooning at his Cor. See, he's okay. Honestly.

On the sands, Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling continues on her march down the line, her strides growing bolder and quicker with every moment, and her chin lifting that much higher. But she's not perfected her stride well enough just quite yet, for one talon catches in the sand, sending her tumbling chin-first into the hot sand just before one female candidate's feet. Pride wounded beyond recompense, she lifts herself back to her feet slowly, with stately grace, and turns her gaze up to the female candidate wonderingly, then blinks, her eyes shifting from that orange-tinged red to bright blue, the color of the sky after the sun has set.

On the sands, Nobly Imperious Sunset Green Hatchling looks deeply into Kaeralla's eyes.

Myca smiles waveringly at S'ara and then murmurs to Eilanth, "You don't mind if I eat too, do you, sweetheart?" She grabs a patch of cooler sand and alternates meat to Eilanth with bites of meatrolls for herself. "Just a little bit more food and then we'll see how you feel... Mmmkay?"

On the sands, Riko a grin comes across riko's face, "Maybe, just a 'little' bit confused is what I would say." He watches Kae impress out of the corner of his eye, "Congrats" he calls out.

On the sands, Ramaki giggles a touch and nods, shifting her weight. "May be so, may be so. He certainly acts like it.." Sand is pushed with the toe of one sandal, before she smiles and oohs again -- "This is going a bit faster then I thought it would.."

On the sands, Shannon blinks as he, meaning Faravoth, speaks in the third dragon sense. "Okay, well let's get going then and we'll fill your tummy." With a smile, she follows the trodden path that the other weyrlings went.

Coriianna smiles in relief. "Okay, I've only got two hands. I'll go from itchiest part to itchiest part. Which itches most right now? Feet or wings?"

Shannon walks in from the sands.

On the sands, Aewen watches the green go, and calls out congratulations. She looks at the blue, and pityingly grins a rueful grin.

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue struggles to his feet, approaching the ring of candidates one more time with his wobbling, bouncing, stumbling gait considerably slowed. His creeling, however, has not tapered off in the slightest - that piercing piccolo-note is even more effective than a fan-fare for announcing his arrival.

On the sands, Kaeralla's eyes were on the green the entire time, throughout the entire march down the line of Candidates. A sympathetic wince is given as the noble little green tumbles face first into the sands, right at her feet. But Kae knows not to move, hands still tightly griping her robe. But then they loosen, and she raises her hands, reaching out to caress the sunset-green's headknobs. "Amentith, yes... yes, we are together. We belong." she gasps out at last. "Come, we'll move that blue out of the way and get you something to eat."

S'ara raises a hand to greet Shannon, smiling slowly, "Congratulations. Could you and--" She pauses, shrugging, "Whatever his name is, come over here? We've meat for him, and meatrolls for you. And oil, once you need it."

Faravoth walks in from the sands.

Khanueth waves his feet in the air. Itch! Ouch! Wince! The poor thing.

Shannon chuckles softly, scritching behind the blue's eyeridges. "Faravoth...Assistant Weyrlingmaster," she states, catching herself before another ma'am is spent. "We're coming." She quickly accompanies her new lifemate over to the group.

On the sands, Drekyn beams towards Kaeralla, approaching her with a friendly - gasp! - air. "She's a pretty one," the bluerider comments quietly. "And if you head towards the side cave there, you'll be able to make sure she doesn't turn into a skinny one."

Faravoth eagerly follows Shannon, muzzle canting close to her as he smells food. A plaintatively rumble seizes his belly, and a half-pitiful croon escapes him.

S'ara smiles, "Faravoth. Lovely. This way." Meat is produced, and the brownrider nods her head, moving on.

On the sands, "Is he ever going to choose?" Tamial wonders surreptitiously at C'drel, watching the blue with concern now. "He's got to be starving. Has he looked at everyone? Did anyone refuse Search?" Khavrineth catches the worry and turns to study the blue as well, breath puffing. << He will be all right, >> is her lazy verdict. << He was from -that- egg. >>

Coriianna nods. "Right, feet it is," she says, already moving to the nearest one, removing oil from the jar with the paddle and beginning to oil his feet, one by one, all over the top and up the leg and over the bottom of the feet and to the tips of his talons.

On the sands, Jindra shakes her head, eyeing J'kan sidelong, "Think he'll choose before it's time for the feast? I'm getting a mite snackish." Nevermind the big gold hulk somewhere off behind her.

Shannon quickly takes the meat and hands it down slowly to the dragonet. "Eat it slowly, dearheart. No choking now. I'm not a practiced dragon healer."

On the sands, "Stubborn?" C'drel guesses, running free hand through his hair as he lifts shoulder in sheepish response. "Maybe a bit like Matrith--" teasingly, and the bronze snorts denial. Hrmph. "I don't think anyone refused Search."

On the sands, Kaeralla beams proudly at Drekyn. "Thank you, I'll make sure to never let her get skinny." her hand reaches out to caress the green again. "C'mon love, we'll go quiet that rumbly in your tummy now."

Kaeralla walks in from the sands.

On the sands, Amentith draws herself up even taller, if its possible, and nudges Kaeralla gently with one clawed paw.

O'kano continues to shovel piece after piece of meat into Jharzeth's maw, chatting incessantly. "Shards, you eat a lot," Puo observes with bemusement. "One'd think.." The rest of the comment is cut off as the lordling eyes the latest additions to the room: Shannon and Kaeralla. Attention quickly turns back to the bronze, however, and he reproaches, "Don't you dare choke! Don't think I'd go and stick my hand down your throat or anything..well, fine. Maybe I'd do that. Maybe."

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue wobbles still closer to the candidates, whuffling each in turn. One, who had been standing near the bronze when he struck, dashes away, and the blue wails his unhappiness. He approaches another candidate and snuffles this one as well - his interest peaks, and he sets off with a far more hopeful air, towards Garrett. He snuffles Garrett's robes, managing to work the tip of his muzzle under the hem of the skirt. A curious puff sends them billowing outwards, thankfully only slightly.

Amentith walks in from the sands.

On the sands, Garrett giggles, and grins down at the little blue. "Hey!" he says shakily, clapping his hands down on his robe to keep it from billowing, then kneeling down closer to the little dragon. "Don't do that, silly! I'm no good to eat, I tell you..."

On the sands, Aewen nudges the sand with the tip of her boot, and she makes a faint 'mmph' sound that can't actually be heard over the chaos of the hatching.

On the sands, "Maybe--" Tamial watches closely, Khavrineth's head hanging just over her lifemate's, both intent on the last little blue. Only Khavrineth's stomach isn't gurgling loudly. "Ugh. That feast better be big." << Lots of fat herdbeasts. >> "-You- eat outside." << Awwww. >>

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue backs away hurriedly, wiggling his rump around in the sand as he tries to get away. Garrett /moves/ to fast! Still - maybe that means he can get food /quickly/.

On the sands, Raggedy Rag-Doll Blue Hatchling looks deeply into Garrett's eyes.
Khanueth curls up slightly, eyeing his Cor. He nuzzles her, moving one foot out of the way and presenting the next.

Shannon chuckles. "Open your maw now silly. I'll put it in your mouth." She hold a gob of the raw meat ready for Favaroth. "You're too heavy to be blown away in the breeze."

On the sands, T'ela rises to her toes on the sand and nods as the little blue finally impresses. Dark gaze takes in the remaining eggs and hatchlings, or rather, the lack thereof, and with no further adue, T'ela turns and hurries back towards the weyrling cavern.

T'ela walks in from the sands.

On the sands, Riko watches Garrett impress, "Congrats!" he calls over.

Coriianna smiles, she always liked water. "You're welcome," she says softly, still working the oil into his feet. "I'm glad." She doesn't want him to itch. She smiles again at his curling up. There is nothing about Khanueth that doesn't make her smile.

On the sands, R'ken just keeps the worried eye on C'drel and Tamial, absently, and shuffles feet. "Over soon? Oh, that'ld be the last one. Finally!" Snicker. "He's well-matched, I guess. And here I had him pinned for a green, too," comments the brownrider of Garrett.

Faravoth blinks a little, before dutifully opening his maw -- with accompanying rumble.

Kaeralla half-turns, to steady Amentith if she needs it, her all her love for the noble little green mirriored in that single gesture. "C'mon love, here's some meat, the sooner we get some in there, the sooner the rumblies will stop." she murmers to the green.

On the sands, "You wish," Tamial teases lightly, relaxing as the blue seems to make his decision. "So, brownrider," she adds, focusing politely on R'ken now. "Are you going to join us for the hatching celebration? I'm sure Cam wouldn't mind the company." Let him forget that dream? Goodness, no. "It's apt to be perfectly... dreamy." Not at all.

Shannon sets the bloody piece in his mouth neatly on his tongue. "Here we go. Now, chew." She grinds her teeth as an example.

Amentith is trying her darned best to keep her stride even, her head held high, but shardit, she's hungry. Leaning into Kaeralla just a tad, the green croons a faint acknoweledgement, practicing a high disdain for those hatchlings already here. They don't matter - only Kaeralla and her rumbly belly do.

On the sands, Drekyn glances up towards the ledges as the last dragon impresses, and blinks as if suddenly remembering something. She stoops, picking at the sands for some moments. "Shards and shells," she grumbles under her breath, before a faint cry of triumph escapes her. "Aha - /there/ you are, you little sharder!" She stands, brushing off her knees with one hand and inspecting the bit of shell now clutched in her other. "It'll do."

On the sands, Garrett's face splits into a huge grin, and he rubs the little blue's headknobs lightly with his knuckles. The sharp greeting leaves him speechless for a long moment, until Riko's call knocks him out of his own - now shared - thoughts. "Thanks," he murmurs, then kneels down, looking at the dragon and placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "Best of greetings to you, too, Gurgith," G'rett says. "C'mon, they'll show us where the food is, if you think you're up to it."

On the sands, C'drel /blushes/ -- if there were anything to hide behind on the sands, he'd probably be doing that right now. "/Tami/," he hisses, ducking head. "Not /here/. People might hear."

Faravoth swallows the meat in one gulp, contrary to instructions.
On the sands, "Hear what?" Tamial inquries, ever so innocent. Khavrineth drops her head to inspect the bronzerider as well, looking puzzled. -She- has been left out of all of this, after all. "You don't want people to think you're offering hospitality to R'ken? Even though he's been sleeping in our weyr?"

On the sands, Is G'rett kidding? Gurgith bonks his head against G'rett's shins joyfully, but squeals even more piercingly than before. This is nice, of course, but he's still /hungry/! His tail thumps the ground impatiently, and he nips at the hem of G'rett's robes.

Shannon blinks, waggling a finger at her lifemate. "No. You chew first then you swallow, or I'll have to give you smaller pieces to make sure you don't choke." Displaying her authority here, she gets out a little piece and holds it out for him.

On the sands, Jindra lets out a sigh of relief, her expression settling to a congratulatory smile for the newest, and unfortunately, final pairing of the rather hectic day. She offers J'kan a brief look, another quick wink of reassurance, then tugs her hand back, glancing toward Tamial briefly. Seeing the younger weyrwoman busy, she nods, turning to scan the remaining candidates with a smile that is at once understanding, and yet also meant to be encouraging. Rolling her shoulders back, she gestures them in, moving to approach them as well.

Faravoth eyes the offered peice of meat plaintatively. But it's so /small/. That won't do at all. Edging past, he tries to push muzzle towards the meat bins. There's /lots/ of meat there.

On the sands, Riko scans the sands, it's over the look his face expresses this as he walks over towards Jindra.

On the sands, G'rett grins at the dragon as he stands up again, trying to tug his hem out of little Gurgith's mouth. "Don't eat that!" he giggles, "it can't be good for you." A little unsure of himself, he looks around, then spots the tunnel the rest of the new lifemates went down, and gently nudges the young dragon. "This way," he says, "and I promise I'll get you something good to eat."

Kaeralla leans back against her 'mate, against her new love as she snatches up a bowl of meat, offering the first chunk to Amentith. "Just eat dear, we'll worry about words later. I'm hurrying, really I am, we'll have you fine in no time and send that rumbly away." she says soothingly.

Khanueth curls up further, rumbling quietly to himself. Sleeeepy. He looks up at Cor a moment, and begins to close his eyes.

On the sands, "Shhh," C'drel hastily insists, "No, no, it's not that at all." He clears throat, straightens, and glances to Jindra, quietening soberly. "Enh, love, I think it's time to get out of this heat, wouldn't you say?"

G'rett walks in from the sands.

T'ela winds her way throught the new pairs, bending down to listen to a problem from a blue pair, then rising to announce over the din, "I know your lifemates are hungry, but unless you want choking hatchlings, you *have* to make them eat little pieces. Break the chunks up."

On the sands, Gurgith bounds happily after G'rett - perhaps a bit too happily, since he still hasn't learned to look where he's going. *Thud* goes the blue's head into the back of G'rett's legs, but somehow they both manage to get into the side cave in one piece.

Gurgith walks in from the sands.

Shannon peers at the blue. "Now behave dearheart. I'll let you eat all you want, but you have to chew is all. I'll fill your belly if you'll just chew. Now that's a deal isn't it?"

On the sands, "Can't be soon enough." Tamial offers an arm to Cam, lips still twitching with amusement, even as Khavrineth turns away and leaps into the air, winging rapidly out toward the chill of the Bowl. "She really -is- hungry." And the other arm she offers to R'ken, with a flicked, daring look at C'drel. Comment?

On the sands, "Oh, jays. Cam, one'd think you'd be used to it, with me darlinging you in the Living Caverns, for Faranth's own sweet sake." R'ken straightens, stretches thoughtfully, then tells Tamial levelly, "And I'd be delighted to join you, in fact." Head turns, then, noting Jindra -- and lips turn down sympathetically. "Out'ld be nice. Funny, wanting to be back out to the cold..." But, bemused, he does move to accept the arm offered him. Innocent? Nah, he doesn't even try.

On the sands, Ramaki breaks out of a personal daydream, and squints at the eggs. "Can I get changed now, please?" She's awake, really, honest.

Coriianna says "Wait a second, Khanueth," Cor says softly. "We need to get you into your new home. Here's not the place to sleep, in your couch, that's where." She looks around for someone to help her. She can't remember the way to the Weyrling Barracks, for some reason."

Faravoth eyes Shannon, tail flickering back and forth. But-- but-- oh, /all right/. With heavy sigh, the blue retracts head and dutifully opens maw again, absently winding tail about Shannon's legs.

Eilanth slowly allows Myca to stop feeding her, in lieu, apparently, accepting soft caresses and applications of oil around her headknobs. "Mmmm, yes, you have smooth hide, sweetling," agrees the redhead with a smile, not at all caring about the oil that drips onto her clothing or the sand, for Eilanth has curled up on the sand, head in Myca's lap.

Amentith opens her mouth appropriately and waits with admirable restraint for the food to be placed into her mouth - a lady has people to wait on her, after all. Copper-streaked tail curls safely out of the way this time as Amentith sinks down to her hindquarters gracefully to wait for her meal, emitting an impatient croon just to speed things along. She's hungry, ya know.

S'ara moves over to Cor, half-smiling, "Keep him up for a little longer, if you can. We'll head to the barracks eventually."

On the sands, Jindra pauses at a spot where she can be easily heard by the grouping of candidates, "I know this is never an easy moment, and I won't pretend to imagine this speech is going to salve the wounds all that well, but I do want to let each and every one of you know that we have been truly glad to have you as candidates here at Starmount. You've been a fantastic group, and we've enjoyed all of your wonderful personalities since you've joined us here, and enjoyed getting to know those of you who've been here already a bit better. You are always welcome here, should you wish to stay. It's very likely that someday, there'll be a dragon shelled for each of you as well." She nods to Ramaki, including all the others in her last comment as well, "Of course. I do hope you'll be joining us for the feast after. The kitchen's been working hard to make it something special for us all."

O'kano turns a stern look upon Jharzeth, and queries, "Hear that? Little. No more gulping. I promise I won't unchoke you." That would require his arm getting all slimy, and Faranth knows that's not on Puo's list of Things To Do. Jharzeth doesn't take to that answer well, and lets the lordling know with a loud guttural. "Sorry!" And then it's back to pushing the remains of the meat from the bucket into the bronze's mouth.

Shannon blinks as her leg gets twined with. "Good, now here you go." She takes a much larger portion, and drops it into that maw. "Chew chew chew...then swallow."

G'rett leads his little blue closer to some of the food, and starts to tear up little bits of it into dragon-bite-sized pieces, just like the rider said. "Here you go, Gurgith," he says, smiling warmly at the hungry dragonet.

On the sands, C'drel says /nothing/. He's just flustered 'cos of the heat and all, truly.

Coriianna nods. "I'll try," she says softly and turns back to Khanueth. "If you stay up a little longer, you'll get to sleep somewhere much nicer," she assures him. "Will you stay up to help me?" She might be able to manhandle his weight into the Weyrling Barracks, but she couldn't say how well he'd fare, so she doesn't want to try.

Faravoth exercises his jaw as instructed, swallowing the meat as soon as he thinks he can get away with it, before mouth lifts again. More?

On the sands, Riko nods to Jindra, a mask of a null emotion on his face. He gives a respectful bow to the dragons and the riders before heading off the sands.

On the sands, "I think I stunned him," Tamial stage-whispers to R'ken, then with a brief, sympathetic look to the gathering around Jindra, she gives a little tug. "Let's go. I need a breath, and something to eat without worrying about being yelled back onto the sands. Khav'll be eating for a while."

On the sands, Drekyn trails after the last of the newfound lifemate pairs, still fingering the little egg-shard thoughtfully.

Drekyn walks in from the sands.

Kaeralla chuckles softly at her lovely 'mate's lady-like ways and continues to the green. "Here you go. Don't eat too fast or you'll choke." This is Kae, saying this to a /lady/ "And then we'll get you cleaned up, darling. I'm sure you must be glad to be out of your egg." she spares a moment to glance about and smile broadly to her fellow Cand-no, Weyrlings now.

S'ara nods. "If you can keep him awake, you'll have no problems. But I'm right here to help if you need it."

Shannon smirks, catching the attitude practically dripping off her lifemate. "Oh Faranth. Here, just stuff yourself. But if you choke, I told you so." The meat comes fast and pleantiful now.

Coriianna nods to S'ara. "Thank you, he says he can stay awake, and he doesn't need to sleep." She beams proudly at Khanueth.

Faravoth Oh. >> Vague puzzlement drifts though his mindvoice. << My hide is making sounds. It sounds like-- *intense itching*.

"He sounds lovely," comments the brownrider, with a touch more emotion than she might otherwise show. "Welcome to the world of riding brown, Cor."

"Congratulations," Drekyn calls, as she steps into the cave. "You've all found wonderful lifemates today, as I'm sure you'll all agree, and they apparently think the same of you. Once they're fed, we'll move you into the weyrling barracks - if they fall asleep when they're through, don't worry. It's normal hatchling behavior, and you can almost certainly carry them to their couches." She darts a glance at the remarkably pudgy Gurgith out of the corner of her eye. Almost.

Amentith blinks as the meat's placed into her mouth, and turns her gaze up to Kaeralla expectantly. Well? Jaws are left wide open, meat displayed, as the hatchling waits for *something*, practically twitching with impatience.

On the sands, Jindra watches the candidates head off, shoulders drooping just a bit, be it from her own disappointment in seeing the inevitable grouping walk away empty handed, or from the heat finally hitting her hard, and pads back toward Krysanth, motioning her toward the cavern mouth, offering J'kan a last smile before heading out. "Need something to drink. Definately."

Coriianna turns her beaming smile on S'ara. For now, the nerves are gone and she is truly enjoying herself. "Thank you, I can't imagine anyone more beautiful," she says honestly.

Shannon blinks reaching up to itch her own arm. Any chatter besides that of her dragon is lost to her ears. "Eh?" She scratches some more. "Where's the oil?" she asks pittifully.

S'ara clears her throat, glancing across at Drekyn a moment, and then nodding her head. "Except Pakath." A wry smile crosses her lips, "No, he's lovely. Solid, too. Pakath always was fairly scrawny. Has he eaten enough, do you think?"

Faravoth finishes eating, absently propping head on Shannon's leg, as swirling eyes focus on the Assistant Weyrlingmasters. He squirms lightly, muzzle shifting to eye a spot down his flank.

Coriianna turns to ask Khanueth. "I was wondering that very thing, he started itching and stopped thinking about food."

Drekyn grins at Shannon, almost sympathetically. Almost. "It's in the pots over there," she says, gesturing towards the row of jars and racks of rags and brushes.

"She has character," is Myca's satisfied response. "And -I- think she's wonderful."

Khanueth considers this development, and opens his mouth. Perhaps it will keep him awake some, and that's always a good idea.

Kaeralla glances down at Amentith. "That's meat dear, it's food. It'll stop the rumbly in your tummy." she says soothingly. "You have to chew it, like this." Kae desmonstrates, sans meat of course, and gnashes her teeth together. "Like this."

On the sands, J'kan heaves a whistful sigh as he follows after Jindra. "/Drink/? Certainly.. /Ceeeertainly.." He licks his lips at that, giving Anceth a fond scritch before he heads off the sands.

Shannon leans down to kiss the little blue muzzle, moving his head off her knee. "You can put it back after I get the oil." With a hop, skip and a jump; she's over at the pots and rags, gathering supplies. "Thanks," she notes back to Drekyn before returning to lather down her lifemate. "Lift your wings."

Faravoth spreads his wings, though doesn't really lift them high enough to be helpful.

Amentith stares at Kaeralla consideringly, then closes her jaws and opens them as shown, rumbling first in surprise, then delight. This *is* good! Jaws close around the lumps of meat once more, and promptly swallow, all that food disappearing in one large bulge down her throat before jaws are promptly opened again expectantly.

Coriianna grins. "I guess we'd have to say yes," she translates with a grin. She puts the paddle and oilpot away and moves to grab some more meat chunks, moving around the other pairs. "Congratulations!" she says softly. She was so involved in Khanueth and his needs she barely noticed the other Impressions.

O'kano lifts his gaze from Jharzeth, however briefly, to awknowledge Drekyn's presence. "No more," he reports to the dark-toned bronze, who apparently has had his fill and rumbles contentedly; Puke discards the bloody bucket and carelessly wipes hands on robe.

Shannon raises her own arms up in the air. "Like this silly. I need to be able to get underneath there so I can oil you good. To get rid of the itchies...help? Well, I'll try. But, I don't know if I can oil and hold at the same time." She tests this theory, gently grasping one of the outer spars, lifting it up. With the other hand, she dunks her rag into an oil pot and begins to lather.

Khanueth waits patiently for meat to make it into his gaping maw. Hungry. The meat is good, too. Yummy. His tail flicks thoughtfuly, his wings fluttering. Interesting. All so interesting.

T'ela pauses behind Puokano, studying him and the bronze with an appraising eye, then grunts out, "Nice bronze." That must be wha she considers praise, because no more in that vein is forth coming, simply, "Oil's over there on the rack, in the buckets."

Coriianna comes back with more drippy meat, she puts a chunk in Khanueth's gaping maw. "Remember to chew, now," she says in a voice that seems to be full of smiles.

G'rett scratches behind the round little blue's headknobs, gently holding his jaw to keep him from swallowing too much too quickly. "Easy there," he says, still with that dazed look that leaves him with eyes only for his new lifemate. << But my tummy's grumbling and rumbling! >> Gurgith protests in his mindvoice, as piercing as his whining kreel, which resumes as soon as he opens his mouth again, and isn't quieted until he's been fed another bite. "Okay, okay," G'rett says, "I'm feeding you as fast as I'm able."

Kaeralla smiles boardly, beaming proudly at her 'mate. "That's because you need more meat. And keep chewing." she offers some more. "Then the rumbly will go away."

Faravoth begins to croon, in sheer relief, eyes swirling as he half tilts head to watch Shannon work.

O'kano's response is simple: "Of course he is. Do you think I'd actually Impress an ugly one?" His opinion's changed drastically, it seems. "No, Jharzeth, of course I didn't mean it when I said you weren't nice-looking," he informs the bronze. "Oil? Yeah, that's sounding good -- I'll go get some."

Khanueth chews. Thoughtfuly, mulling over this meal with the air of one far older and wiser than he could possible be. His tail begins to curl around himself, his neck slumping a bit again. He's slowly getting sleepy.
Shannon can't look back at him, she's too focused on her work. But he does get an unseen smile. "Feel better?" she asks, working on the hide over the ribcage.

Drekyn glances out towards the sands, watching the hatchlings with a somewhat posessive air. Zatmenith might not have laid the eggs, or even sired them, but shard it all if he's not going to help take care of them. "It's best not to overfeed them, and you can't trust their judgement on this - after all, they haven't ever eaten before, so far be it from them to know when they'll get a stomachache or not. Let's get into the barracks, and if they're still hungry once we're done in there, the feeding buckets are always full." She waves the weyrlings towards the barracks.

Coriianna puts the rest of the meat away, he doesn't appear to be hungry anymore. "Anywhere else itch?" she asks thoughtfully, and also trying to keep him from going to sleep.

S'ara pulls herself up to her feet, nodding in agreement to Drekyn, "A good idea. C'mon."

Amentith certainly doesn't need to be told twice. Jaws close over the meat and chew, one set of eyelids slowly drifting down over red-streaked blue eyes. Meat once again disappears in a lump fisible down her slender throat before her jaws are held open again, lower jaw sagging just a tiny bit in exhaustion.

Khanueth obviously doesn't think so. He's eyeing S'ara. She's moving. Will that take him to sleep?

Shannon smirks, shaking her head as she continues to rub oil into the pesky itchy spot. "I think I knew when you finally came out of your egg. You've got a very pretty hide coloring you know."

Sleepy weyrling, sleepy dragon. Myca and Eilanth remain curled up, having snuggled closer together in the course of the oiling. Redgold head rests against sunshine&green side, and eyes slowly fall closed as the two drowse contentedly. Drekyn's words rouse them and there's a sleepy complaint from Eilanth. She's -comfortable-, and she doesn't -want- to move.

Coriianna smiles with relief. "Khanueth, let's go, we're going to get you into bed, where you can sleep."

Faravoth begins thrumming lightly -- in fact, come to think of it, he's barely been /silent/ at all. He lifts, with difficulity. He has to /move/? But he's so comfortable and warm and..

Khanueth slowly pulls himself to his sturdy feet, head lowered and innermost eyelids tightly shut. Was that a yawn? No, just a very stilted screech.

Kaeralla pats Amentith's shoulder lovingly. "Is the rumbly going away darling?" she asks soothingly. "You can have a little more meat, just in case it isn't. And then we'll get you cleaned up and get that sand off you. And then you can sleep."

Shannon glances over her shoulder towards Drekyn, her words finally sinking into her head. "Oh, yes well...think you can make it Fara?"
Shannon grins. "Well come on then." She finishes rubbing the last of the oil into his hide, then stands, proud of her meek accomplishment. "Not that far, right?" she concurs with the Weyrlingmasters.

Myca untangles herself from Eilanth and coaxes her to her feet. "C'mon, honey. There's a much better bed waiting for you, softer and more comfortable. C'mon, you can do it..." The green reluctantly gets to ger feet and trails along after Myca, preferring to be as close as possible to her partner.

G'rett feeds one more bite of meat to Gurgith, then shakes his head at some unheard comment from his lifemate. "No, no more for now...oh." He stands, blinking down at the rotund little dragon. "But I can't pick you up, not after you've eaten half a herdbeast!" The dragon just half-closes his slowly whirling eyes, apparently content to fall asleep right where he is, now that the 'grumblings and rumblings' have been quieted.

Cor smiles at Khanueth, and starts leading the way for him into the
Faravoth huffs out breath, and goes to the great effort of drawing himself up. He wouldn't do it, except /she/ is insistant. Muzzle tilts affectionately to Shannon. Where?

O'kano abandons his quest for oil and urges Jharzeth to his feet; encumbered by an enlarged belly, thanks to all the requested red meat, the bronze's steps are almost unsteady. "Careful - don't tip over or anything." Jharzeth just snorts. Never.

S'ara leads the way towards the barracks, stiffling a yawn. "Hard work this. Follow me, I suppose?"

Cor smiles at Khanueth, and starts leading the way for him into the Barracks. "Careful now," she says gently. Sleepy people often trip over things. Dragons might be the same way.

Weyrling Barracks -- Starmount(#47RAHJLa)

A massive cavern, larger by far than anywhere save the Hatching Grounds, the weyrling barracks are still filled to near-overflowing with the forms of dragonets, many almost full grown, as well as their stone couches lined against all the walls, worn into the floors by years of dragon bodies. Cots stand next to each occupied couch for the dragonet's rider. A huge oil bin at the back of the cavern is filled to the brim and often occupied with numerous firelizards splashing, chittering, and generally making nuisances of themselves. Another bin next to it is kept full of meat chunks for the smaller dragonets, those not old enough to hunt herdbeasts or wherries themselves.
 At any time of the day or night weyrlings can be found chatting and laughing among themselves, the dragonets joining in the conversations by their riders as proxy. Tables strewn with food and hides indicate just how hard these young people work. (+views)

Shannon wanders in with her Favaroth and notes, "See, not far at all. Here we go."

Faravoth tilts muzzle this way and that to examine his new surroundings. Here? With a half-rumble of pleasure, he begins whuffling at couches -- never straying far enough from Shannon to be more than a handspan's length away.

Myca coaxes Eilanth step by step and takes the first available couch. "C'mon, that's it," she mumbles sleepily, leaning against the edge of the couch and stiffling a yawn.

Shannon nods to the blue. "Yes. But I'm not sure which...can we pick any one?" she asks in a clear voice, this directed to S'ara.

Drekyn steps towards the center of the barracks, waving an arm in a gesture that encompasses the entire barracks. "Pick a couch, any couch, and mind you don't step on one another's tails. This place will get quite a bit cramped over the next few months as your dragons grow, and they /do/ grow, so mind you're careful with your things."
 

Khanueth pushes after Cor, obviously trailing at his heals. Now, what are these stone things? Does he get one? Is this where he can sleep?

Cor comes into the Barracks with Khanueth and looks around at the different couches. "We get one of these," she explains to Khanueth. "They're couches, they're where dragons are supposed to sleep." She looks around for one that ought to fit Khanueth and herself reasonably comfortably with room to grow.

O'kano decides, "We'll take a big one." The biggest and the best. Puo inspects each unoccupied couch until one meets his approval and he tells Jharzeth, "This'll do." Jharzeth voices no objections; it meets his, too.

Khanueth has no time to waste. Sleepy as he is, he just walks into the first couch. So it's small. Really small. He steps out again, finally finding one, and hoping, obviously, that Cor will follow.

Cor follows Khanueth readily enough, from too small couch to just-right couch. She nods to Khanueth. "I think it's just right," she agrees with him, stifling a yawn of her own.

Shannon nods to Drekyn and then smiles to Favaroth. "Why don't you pick out a couch for us?"

Khanueth promptly begins to curl up. Perfect.

Myca checks out the cot next to the couch and settles onto it. Eilanth immediately protests, softly, and rests her head on Myca's cot.

"You'll be in here for a long time, Weyrlings," Drekyn continues, stepping aside for a 'mated pair to pass in their search for a couch. "In fact, you won't be allowed to leave here unless your lifemate is asleep for the first few weeks - and no visitors, either. This is a place strictly for you and your growing dragons, and we don't want them to get excited by streams of visitors coming in to oggle."

S'ara stands up at the front, arms folded. Glaring. Well, sort of.

Faravoth takes his time about picking out a couch, despite protests that he's tired. He can't just get any old boring, mundane couch, after all. He has to have one that's /different/. He finally settles for one in the corner, slightly elongate -- and far too large for him, even full grown. Plaintative look at Shannon.

Amentith breaks away from Kaeralla's side to head down the rows, inspecting cots as she goes along. Finally, she settles in front of a rather small, cozy number near the back of the cavern, and clambers up onto it to wait for her new lifemate rather impatiently.

Shannon nods to her lifemate, sweet smile caressing her lips. "That one looks good to me. Lots of room to spread out." She helps him up into it gently and soon follows.

Faravoth settles in the couch, thrumming with pleasure. Squirming, he settles into place, and with heavy yawn, rests muzzle on the edge.
[Log ends]