|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
 Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 10:03 am
Onie and Yokaith
Early Morning Labors
It was in the wee hours of Telgar Weyr's morning when Onie found herself sitting up in bed, wide awake. The transition between sleep and full consciousness had happened so quickly that it left Onie slightly on edge. It was rare that she wake so suddenly at such a strange hour, and she had the distinct feeling deep in her core that there was a reason for it. Not being the type to remain in bed once awake, she swept the furs back - all six of them, as it had gotten cold in the region fairly quickly - and placed her bare feet on the rag rug placed strategically to save her poor feet from the shock of a cold floor. The thin fabric was seeped in iciness, however, and Onie started, snatching her feet up and hugging her knees. Where were the fur-lined slippers Ch'har had gifted to her? They were so very cozy, and the fire needed stoking.
You will not need them. Yokaith murmured within Onie's mind. Again, the Weyrwoman started. She had not been aware of Yokaith's wakefulness.
I do need them, love. It's freezing. While I'm awake I may as well go over the supply report. Winter is setting in and we may need to purchase some things from the Southern region. They're still harvesting there because it's so much warmer, and there's not a Weyr for them to support . .
Onie trailed off, mindful of a strange shift in her dragon's mood. Onie's mind was clear and sharp with the crispness of early morning, attempting to twist around Yokaith's and discern the new . . feeling? It was something akin to readiness . .
"Yokaith! Why are you awake so early?" Onie cried, flinging herself out of bed. The cold was no matter now as she sprinted to her dragon's sleeping quarters. Yokaith's careful words and the dragon's strange feelings permeating her mind were giving rise to a certain suspicion, and with it came undeniable excitement.
It is time to be rid of this heaviness, Yokaith replied. Just as Onie arrived at her couch the dragon rose, egg-engorged belly evident even in the dim light filtering in from the ledge's opening. Rukbat would be fully risen soon. I go to the Sands. Yokaith said, finality in her voice. It was time for the laying.
"I - I can come too, love?" Onie said, the phrase far more of a question than she liked to admit. A dreadful fear had taken hold of her heart, even as she remained calm despite the suddenness of Yokaith's actions. What if Yokaith did not want her there? Some golds didn't . .
You must! Yokaith said urgently, a wave of affection washing over her rider. She had caught on to Onie's worries and soothed them, butting the Weyrwoman's torso with her beautifully shaped head ever so gently. Onie flung her arms around the gold and kissed the musky, metallic hide. Yokaith crooned softly, and for a moment they stood in the embrace. Finally, Onie broke away, aware of her dragon's steadily heightening eagerness.
"I will get my things, love. You go ahead," Onie said, breathless now with excitement. It was almost dizzying, as her emotions changed so rapidly in response to Yokaith - even as the dragon remained stolidly ready for the event that was drawing nigh.
The young woman ran from the gold's quarters, her long stride carrying her easily to the clothing she had laid out for the day ahead before retiring. It had been chosen with the expectation of Telgar's biting cold, but the cold would not reach her in the Hatching Cavern. Onie sorted out the layers until she found the simple tunic and a pair of leggings. Off came her nightgown, on the leggings were pulled, and over her head the dark purple tunic went. A belt to give it some shape (as suggested by Bethany, who personally saw to the Weyrwoman's clothing), some boots to protect her feet from the heat, a ribbon to hold her somewhat disheveled hair securely from her face . . It was all put together in less than five minutes.
Onie paused for a moment, catching her breath and looking around her. She was running about like a distressed wherry-hen, but really, what else was to be expected? This was the moment. Yokaith was about to do the singular thing that gave her her authority and differentiated her from the greens: she was going to lay eggs. The gold had already left for the Sands. It was far too early for her to be sighted, and for that Onie was thankful.
Not once had Yokaith complained about being egg-heavy. Flying straight was not a restraint; it was a precaution for her hatchlings, and she welcomed it. The burden of her heavy belly was never mentioned. Tsareth had taken to hunting for her near the end, and not once did she criticize his choice of bucks, though Onie knew they were far from the type she would've chosen for herself. Yokaith had been happier than ever as the time passed, genuinely pleasant to be around. It had been a surprise to Onie after hearing horror stories about clutching dragon-mothers. Indeed, she wished Yokaith's temperament would remain as lovely as it had been after the Hatching was over, but refused to get her hopes high only to have them dashed to pieces.
Assuring herself that she was ready (on all levels) Onie headed down to the Weyrbowl, to join her lifemate in the Hatching Cavern.
It was six hours later that Yokaith finally settled, tired, panting. Rukbat had risen but it was still early morning. Onie had stood for the entire six hours, finding her aching legs reminiscent of her own Candidacy and Impression. As Yokaith finally finished laying, adjusting, laying, moving sand about, scooting, and rolling the eggs into position, Onie took a tally.
Twenty-seven. There were twenty-seven eggs, wet and sticky, drying on those Sands. Onie's heart leaped with pride. It was twice and more than Elenneth had laid, even with the traumatic Flight. There was no Queen egg, to be true, and it wasn't the forty that High Reaches had boasted of late, but it was a fine result for such a small dragon and a bad Flight. So long as they were viable . .
Onie picked her way gently to the exhausted Yokaith, fighting the muscles in her leg which were wobbly after so long without much movement. "Rest, love. Shall I ask Tsareth to make a kill for you?"
Yokaith made no sound, merely closing her slowly whirling eyes. The exultation was coming off of her as a nearly tangible aura, but it was accompanied with a great tiredness. Onie smiled as the great love for her dragon welled up again, and made herself comfortable in her forelegs. She was nearly asleep when she heard the shout from the entrance of the Cavern, and then the fading footsteps as the shouter ran from the entryway. Yokaith's labors had been discovered, and he would be the bearer of the good tidings. Together, the pair slept.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 10:56 am
Onie and Yokaith
Moving The Immobile
The Hatching Cavern had been transformed gradually since Yokaith laid the twenty-seven, vibrantly colored eggs. One area had been curtained off and in it the portable bed that the Weyr possessed had been placed for the Weyrwoman's use. Onie had sent a note of fervent apology to the young guest healer who had been using it at the time; it would be returned to him after the Hatching. She'd heard he was quite large and felt sorry for him, but after having her bare feet and arms dangle over one of the smaller cots and onto the scorching Sands, she'd felt justified in requesting the bed. The Sands had only gotten hotter as things progressed. In the curtained partition was also a basin for washing up, and a few extra clothes. It was less than ideal but Onie would not leave those Sands until Yokaith did - and the gold wasn't going anywhere.
Up in the stands a small work area had been devised by a clever crafter. A spare desk had been cut down to sit on one of the step-like seating areas, in such a way that Onie could sit on the next one up and be in a perfect position to work at the desk, with her legs under it as they normally would be. A few supplies had been put in a small box and placed beside the desk. It was there that she sat, looking down in an exasperated manner at Yokaith.
The gold was sprawled in the midst of her eggs, snaking her tongue around them protectively. Her eyes were an irritable orange, whirling in agitation. She and her rider were having a disagreement.
"Really, Yokaith, you must relent! It is past time for the Candidates to be presented to you and the eggs. They will not hurt them, love, or else I would not be so adamant about them coming in. If they did, I would not stop you from seeking swift and full vengeance if you wanted - but you must at least give them a chance!" Onie set her writing utensil down, flexing her pale, thin fingers.
I have let many people in, Yokaith said, hissing.
"Only because they were necessary. Ch'har comes to deliver food, news, clothing, and issues for me to sort out. Ralia and Indira come in so I can delegate certain activities to them. Tsareth brings you food. Messengers come in, because their news may be for my ears alone. Those were all necessary visitors, and the Candidates are necessary, also! The eggs are so near to hatching, love," Onie said, her tone becoming more gentle as she continued. "Letting the Candidates in to look at them and even touch them is helpful to the eggs. The dragonets will be better suited for forming a bond when they emerge. We could see a less violence, and less distress for the hatchlings. Please, Yokaith. I swear on my love for you that no harm will come to your eggs," Onie finished, her voice taking on a pleading note at the very end.
Several days later, and after many hours of pleading with the stubborn Queen, and the Sands were opened for the eggs' exhibition. Weyrfolk and common holders alike were all invited to sit in the stands and ogle. Onie had made a promise to the fierce gold that only the Candidates, herself, and Ch'har would actually stand on the Sands and near the eggs. Onie fully intended to keep the pledge, threatening severe punishment to anyone who dared to creep onto those Sands without the status of Candidacy. It was the only way to maintain the gold's happiness - or at least her tolerance.
So together they stood at the far end of the Cavern, just close enough to the eggs for Yokaith to suitably watch over them, as the Candidates began to file in and the weyrfolk settled themselves in the stands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 11:47 am
The Eggs
 The Gladiolus EggThis egg seems to be far and away the most outgoing of the whole clutch. Certainly it's the one most candidates will notice first. Unlike some of the others there is nothing tentative about this one's touch. Waves of openness and generous sentiment seem to touch the minds of everyone nearby. Even the other eggs seem to respond to it. The Gladiolus Egg is exuberant, but not overbearing. The easing of worries and a boost in confidence seem to be the gifts candidates bear away from the egg.  The Hydrangea EggThe Hydrangea Egg is among the largest of the clutch, and the beautiful colors of its shell draw quite a few curious glances. It doesn't reach out to the candidates, simply waits patiently for them to come to it; secure in the knowledge that most eventually will. It's voice is remarkably poised and controlled, especially for an egg, even a touch arrogant. Despite this it isn't an unpleasant egg; and it seems ready to be friends with the candidates.  The Alstroemeria EggDespite its small size, the Alstroemeria egg gives an impression of unshakable solidarity. As firm as the earth, but with the warmth of a living being, it's different from the others in more ways than one. There are no subtle nuances or hidden emotions in this egg: it is as warm and as steady as a heartbeat, and just as simplistic.  The Daffodil EggThe first impression from this egg is a slick, soft, almost unnoticeable *snick*. It's so smooth, like well oiled pieces of metal, that few will even notice its touch. The egg's presence slides slowly back and forth, skating with an almost icy touch so that it's difficult to pin it down and identify it. Every now and then a deep, muffled sound almost like a gong - definitely metallic - seems to echo from a great distance away. The egg gives off a feeling that isn't menacing, but certainly not comfortable.  The Amaranthus EggThe Amaranthus Egg seems fuzzy. Any emotions or sensations it might be trying to project feel muted, as if a great, amorphous barrier lies between it and the rest of the world. Repeatedly, a warm, alive, fiercely determined presence seems to press against this barrier; pushing at it, testing for weakness, striving for connection. No contact will be made at this point in time, however; the hatchling is too weak, and the candidates have no ability to reach back to it, and it must stay in its isolation.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 11, 2010 12:24 pm
A Few Guidelines
o1.) Posting is mandatory for Candidates. Anyone wishing for their character to be considered as a Candidate for this upcoming clutch must post once. This thread will close December 1st, so there should be plenty of time for you to make at least one post. At the top of your post, please list the character's name, and the word 'Candidate'.
Ex.:
Mary Sue, Candidate
Mary Sue tried to touch an egg and was summarily eaten by Yokaith, blah blah . .
It doesn't matter if your character has another rank. Also, if your character is Weyrfolk by rank but you would like for them to be considered as a Stands-Impression, remember that they cannot come onto the Sands or touch an egg. Still you may post them ogling the eggs and whatnot from the Stands and the example above still applies.
o2.) Interaction is encouraged. In this Touching characters are encouraged to interact with each other as well as the eggs.
o3.) You do not have to approach every egg. The eggs are waiting and ready for a character to approach and react to them, but I won't hold it against you if you're more interested in one egg than another.
Questions? PM me. C; Enjoy!
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
Posted: Sat Nov 13, 2010 3:49 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Nov 13, 2010 7:30 pm
Diligan, Stands-Impression
Diligan looked at his reflection in the small round mirror hanging on the wall of his quarters with a critical eye. He nodded in satisfaction at the clean seam running down the sides of his dark brown trousers, and plucked at the cuffs of his tunic to make sure the powder blue shirt was just as straight upon his wide shoulders. He'd decided to put on his nice gather vest, the cut of it nicely accentuating his already formidable figure without making him look like a behemoth. The subtle embroidery on the vest picked up the pale blue of his tunic within the myriad of colors darting through the dark brown leather. He settled for a plain belt, not wanting to out-shine the vest.
Sliding his hands over his bald skull to feel for any stubble he'd missed when shaving that morning, he let his fingers trail down to smooth out his neatly trimmed black beard. Not bad, he nodded, grinning at the dark-skinned young man in the mirror. Chuckling at himself, he shook his head and made his way to the Hatching Cavern. Sure, he might look a bit too dressed up for such a routine happening, but he didn't think so. He'd never seen dragon eggs, and this was an occasion he wanted to enjoy and carefully mark in his memory. It felt like going to a gather to him, only without the food, dancing, singing, shopping, and random flirting. ...well, he wouldn't dismiss that last one quite yet...
Stepping under the archway that led to the Sands, he paused at the sight with wide eyes. It truly was an awe-inspiring visual; Yokaith hovering at the back of the Cavern, pale and glowing like moonlit gold, and the 27 brightly colored eggs nestled in the soft sands beneath her watchful gaze. Not entirely sure what the protocol was, he gave the Queen and Weyrwoman a deep bow before taking a seat in the stands. There weren't many people there yet, so he had the pick of the best seats. While he would have loved to take one near the front, he knew his looming build was a substantial obstacle to try to look around. So, he climbed to one of the higher tiers and settled in to watch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 6:54 am
Ch'har, Weyrleader
Yawning, Ch'har didn't bother even to harness Tsareth before jumping on the bronze's back. They made the short glide down to the bowl, Ch'har yawning and stretching and running his fingers through his hair. At least if it didn't work he could say it was mussed up by the wind...
Lazy.
You love me anyway.
While Ch'har was still mostly asleep, Tsareth was awake, aware and perky. He absolutely adored being the "doting father." And of course, the fact that Yokaith was so mellow with him only encouraged the bronze on. Big buffoon was as smitten with the eggs as he was with the rider and the mother.
"What're you nabbing for her today?" Ch'har said aloud, sliding down with a thud and, once again, yawning.
Wherry. Tsareth said decisively; his eyes following the progress of the flock in front of him. A big one, she will be stressed with the young humans touching the eggs today. Having chosen a target, Tsareth launched forward and dispatched it with efficiency. He disliked running the stock down making his choice - he said that it made them lose weight. Besides which, it stirred up the entire bowl with their squawks and protests.
--------------
We are late, Tsareth said disapprovingly as they entered the hatching sands, You slept too long. The dead wherry dangled pathetically from his mouth, flopping slightly as they landed and Ch'har got down.
We are not. Everyone else is just early. Ch'har slapped his bronze's leg fondly in a parody of the way herders got runnerbeasts to move on without them. Ignoring this with poise and dignity, Tsareth stepped over to Yokaith with his offering, crooning.
"Well," Ch'har said, stepping up to Onie, "That big clown over there is all set to assist in guard duty. So, if any of the nippers are plotting dastardly deeds - "
Then I will have my breakfast, Tsareth said pleasantly, his comment audible to both humans. Leaving the two humans and the gold, he flapped to the teirs above the entrance to the grounds and settled himself, watchful eyes observing the sands and the stands, waiting patiently and on the alert.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 8:30 am
Onie and Yokaith
The weyrfolk were already entering, and Onie watched a very large man bow to her. He must be the Healer whose bed she had commandeered, no doubt about it - the knots he bore made it evident enough. She nodded back to him, though Yokaith did not acknowledge him; the gold was still miffed that her rider had begged, coerced, and finally forced her to let people in her sacred hatching ground. She noticed that he was dressed well for the occasion, and smiled to herself. If anything proved his guest status this did, for gather-wear was saved for the actual Hatching by most Weyrfolk (Onie herself was wearing on her basic trousers and a clean tunic). Still, she appreciated his respect for the occasion and made a mental note to put a pouch containing a few marks beneath the bed's pillow for him. He was certainly a deserving man, having so graciously given up his bed.
Soon Ch'har and Tsareth arrived, the bronze with a gift of food for Yokaith. She crooned lovingly at him. He was the only being that received the good side of Yokaith these days. Even Onie herself had been slightly shunned since the disagreement over the exhibition of the eggs, though Yokaith still loved her as ever. The dragon had not reproached (in their entire lifetime she never would) her but nevertheless had not been too chatty of late. When Tsareth deposited the kill Onie winced, worried about the effect it may have on the Candidates. Some of them were holdbred.
It will serve as a reminder of good manners, Yokaith said with finality. The dragon thanked her mate for the wherry, indulging right away. She had not eaten in two days and found an appetite, though it wasn't as large as it could've been.
"Good morning, Ch'har," Onie said, her voice full of fondness. "Perhaps Tsareth would like to join Yokaith down here?" It might improve her tolerance, Onie thought, but in a tiny voice deep in the recesses of her mind - inaudible to the gold. "He is the sire, after all," she said. "I doubt anyone will disrespect the pair today. They were educated well, and will be reminded by Yokaith's meal at the very least."
Onie refrained to mention the teacher of the Candidates - B'ron. They had not spoken in a sevenday (or was it two?), and she had not repealed her hasty punishment for his words. Indeed, she'd refused to even think of the event, and being so busy kept it from her mind easily.
She looked at Ch'har and smiled, the smile reserved for him. Though Onie was not in love with him as he was with her, he was a great friend and the Weyrleader she would've chosen. He had matured in her eyes with the added responsibility, and even as she knew that he found it strange and even disconcerting to be the leader of the Weyr, she felt he was truly rising to the occasion - which was what Telgar needed. Desperately.
"They produced some beautiful eggs, did they not? They remind me of a meadow, somehow. They have such bright colors. I half thought they would be . . pale or solid, like the eggs that Yokaith and her clutchmates hatched from."
(OOC Note: Vattna, I hope you don't mind me taking such liberties. I figured that everyone in the Weyr of any craft or rank would wear knots, and graciousness seemed something Diligan would express upon having his bed carted off for the Weyrwoman. Consider it a compliment to your character and please don't be offended at me. ;D)
Vay (Healer) and Consecreth
It was with a vague feeling of excitement that Vay entered the Hatching grounds after being deposited by her blue, nodding at the Queen pair respectfully before climbing into the stands. She sighted Diligan - indeed, he was hard to miss - and angled toward him, taking a seat beside the guest Healer with a courteous, "I hope you don't mind."
Seeing dragon eggs always brightened her day. They have her a sense of hope and purpose. Of course, she didn't want any of the dragons wounded, but who else would stitch their wings when they were scored or soothe their wounds with numbweed? She knew she would develop a personal relationship with most of the little hatchlings, safely encased in their eggs, and it made her happy. The fact that she hadn't participated in the Touching of Consecreth's clutch made her even more eager to attend every one that she could. She always regarded the Candidates closely, wondering how it must feel to touch an egg as well as the mind inside it. Despite the persistent cough she'd had for four days, she felt excited.
"Yokaith and Tsareth make a good match," Vay said. "I thought it would be Umwarith or-" and here she broke off, interrupted by a fit of coughing that she (most health-consciously) directed into her elbow. "I'm sorry," she said to Diligan. "I've got a touch of a cold this week. But anyway, I thought Umwarith might catch her. If I'm right, he had more experience. There were also a few other dragons that were veterans of gold flights but no, it was Tsareth."
Flights were another source of fascination to Vay. Consecreth participated in very few of them and rarely won the ones he did. She glanced over at the blue, who was resting on one of the ledges provided for the dragons (after all, they loved seeing the eggs, too) and smiled a small smile. It wasn't that he was incapable of winning flights; he was so relaxed that competitiveness, even in the heat of lust, wasn't his strength. Besides, there hadn't been a rider so far that Vay liked enough for the dragon to really put his total effort in for.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 11:31 am
Puckett, Candidate The only good thing he could see in this was that he got to actually touch the eggs. Though he wasn't sure he even wanted to be a rider and put himself in that much danger. His aunt surely did it but she was . . . well a big, boring, serious grownup. He didn't want to be a dragonrider if it meant he had to be all serious all the time. He didn't want to be a meanie.
But he would get to touch the eggs. No one else would ever get to touch them. He beamed as he charged onto the sands, slowing down to a careful bounce once he got close enough to Yokaith and her eggs. He didn't want to get eaten, even though his aunt kept telling him dragons didn't eat people. It looked like they could eat people and that certainly was not going to be fun.
"Wow! There's so many eggs!" He gasped, his mouth forming a perfect circle as he gazed at them. Then he started rapidly counting them, pointing to each one as he did. He lost count at least twice, then he went back to counting them again. "27! There's 27 eggs!' He tossed his arms up over his head, cheering loudly to himself. "That's lots and lots of new dragons!" Then he started giggling, looking rapidly around. There were people in the stands but so far, it looked like he was the only candidate on the sands.
"Yay! First picks, first picks!" Then he paused, trying to decide which one he wanted to touch first. They were all really pretty looking and there were lots and lots. He thought for a moment, his round face squishing with his apparent frustration. Then he started walking again, this time with an apparent purpose.
He went towards the Gladiolus egg first. It was the one that really stood out the most. He smiled at it. "You're the same color as my hair," he said aloud, pointing to it. "So I like you a lot. Are you a boy dragon or a girl dragon?" He crouched down, tilting his head to look at it. Whenever he moved his head, it almost looked like the pattern did. If he stared at it too long, he could make the patterns move with his imagination. It was really pretty and there was a certain openness about it. It felt a little weird to have an egg almost seem excited about human company. It made him laugh and he reached out, gently brushing his rough fingertips over the smooth, hardened surface.
"It's not bad," he said. "I thought this would be cool and scary but it isn't. It's cool and nice." His legs threatened to send him toppling into the burning hot sands, so he quickly rose and bounced away. Already, his feet were starting to hurt rather badly from the sand. Though, he did feel better about standing. If this touching was so comforting than the hatching couldn't be so bad either.
He passed right by the Hydrangea Egg and continued wrapped his way through the sands, stopping by the Alstroemeria Egg. It was so . . . brown. He was rather confused by it, as its siblings seemed so much more colorful than this one. Puck walked in a loose circle around it, trying to figure out what it was. "You seem like a boy dragon," he muttered. "Girls don't like the color brown, but I do. It's not such a bad color." He didn't realize that the fledgings probably didn't care what color their shells were or really what color they were themselves. He touched it, bouncing between his feet at the same time. His feet were getting so hot that it hurt.
When his hand touched the surface it was like his heart had suddenly started audibly beating. He could hear the sound loud and clear in his ear, or was it rocking and pulsing through his core? He pulled his hand away and could swear he still felt the thrumming in his fingertips.
That was all he had felt, the gentle pulsing beat of this egg. it reminded him that there was something actually inside there. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget that soon something living would be born from that shell. He smiled, giving the egg one last gentle pat. He liked this one, even if it was brown.
He wandered about for a long while, brushing his fingertips lightly over the eggs. His fingertips slipped over the surface of the Daffodil egg and he had to go back and touch it again. It was as if he were touching a surface coated in metal. He had always been sure of his calloused grip, but now he was a tad shaken. He touched it again, being sure to plant his fingers carefully against the egg's surface so they wouldn't slip again. There was something within it that gently shook his core, echoing in and out like a musical instrument. There was something else too, some presence. Once he tried to focus on it, the force slipped away from him. It was giving him a headache and he was quickly frustrated by trying to chase it and pin it down. He drew his hand away with a snap, pouting at the yellow and green painted egg. How could something like an egg be so frustrating? He huffed slightly, continuing to carve his twisted path through the 27 eggs. He looked up, regarding the gold watching over her babies. Everyone said Yokaith was a small queen, but she was still uttery ginormous from his perspective.
He wandered over to the Hydrangea egg next. It looked to be nearly the biggest egg and it stuck out of the rest of them. Even though it did, it didn't really have the same tug as some of the others. This one was quiet and patient, he thought. Like the others, he gently placed his hand on the tip of the egg to, hopefully, connect with the hatchling inside. The presence that hit him was rather eager, which made him instantly like up like a glow basket. "You want to be friends?" he exclaimed loudly. "Well there are lots of people who want to be friends with you, I'm positive. You'll find your person before you even hatch. I'm sure you will." He gave it a little pat, feeling rather silly in comparison to the egg. They were opposites already, he could tell. This egg was poised and regal, much like the Weyrwoman. Puck was nothing of the serious sort. He looked about one last time, giving the egg a quick pat before bounding off again. He felt rather jovial now, finding the fun in this adventure again.
The last egg, Amaranthus, was the one with the least presence. It was small, certainly, but he realized that it was still as beautiful as the others. He admired the pink and white swirling across the surface. "Like a garden, we have a garden inside!" he chimed, looking over the bunch again. Then with a flick of his arm, he set his palm against the last egg he needed to touch.
He felt . . . nothing, though he felt as though he had just eaten a piece of wool. The sensation spread around him and he even sneezed at the sensation. It reminded him of a sheep. He was covered in wool; the stale scent filling his nostrils and making it hard to breath. It smelled of something alive, tinted with the heavy spices of the earth. He thought he felt something push against him, but it stopped almost immediately. He couldn't feel anything else, though he waited and willed for something to happen.
Now finished, the boredom set in again. Where were all the other candidates? He could see some coming now, but they all seem more interested in the eggs than each other.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 11:36 am
((OOC: Heck no, I don't mind at all! He'd have carried the bed down himself if he'd been allowed to. XD And dash it, I totally spaced the knots. Must amend that...))
Diligan, Stands-Impression
People were beginning to file into the Cavern, and Diligan was glad he'd made a point to get there early. It felt almost like a private showing, and he leaned his elbows back on the seat behind him as he absorbed the sight of all those fantastically colorful eggs. His dark eyes strayed back to Onie and Yokaith as Tsareth brought the petite gold a meal, and as she bent down to feed he caught sight of the corner of the bed he'd been...ah...”relieved of”. He still had the note of apology from Onie, and was honestly surprised to have received it. Shards, he had been surprised to have gotten a bed that fit him in the first place!
A thoughtful smile curved his lips. Crashing in a pile of furs on the floor was well worth it if the lovely Weyrwoman was sleeping comfortably above the scorching sands. He idly wondered if he would get the bed back. Knowing who had slept in it previously was a delightful notion indeed! Of course, it would have been even better if he had actually been able to stay with the bed... He chuckled at the fantasy. Ah well, can't have 'em all.
His musings were interrupted by a figure walking up to him, and he sat up as Vay took the next seat over. “No, I don't mind,” he said, brushing the dust off his sleeves and absently straightening the knots at his shoulder. His welcoming expression sobered a bit as the healer started to cough, but he nodded at her comments and looked up at the young bronze perched alertly over the entrance to the Hatching Grounds. “I remember hearing something about how rider preference, or the overall preference of the Weyr can affect the outcome of a flight. Do you think there's any merit to that?”
Pausing, he gestured to the empty seats below. “It's a bit chilly in these high-altitude seats, would you care to move down a few dragon lengths with me?” he asked, the concern in his eyes as genuine as the humor quirking at the corners of his mouth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 14, 2010 3:31 pm
Terrila – Candidate
The moment Terrlia heard that the candidates were finally allowed enter the Hatching Grounds and walk among the eggs she dropped the pot she was cleaning with a splash into the tub full of water. Washing and drying her hands quickly she waved to the kitchen staff and for the first time in her life, ran off leaving a chore unfinished. She’d heard that the queen had been unwilling to let them close so she was doubly grateful for the chance to see them so closely. She’d heard somewhere that the Touching of the eggs was a way for candidates to forms bonds with the unhatched dragons, improving their chance at Impressing; whether this was actually true or just fancy she didn’t know, but there was no way that she would let the chance slip by if it was. She stopped by her room, quickly stripping of her wet and dirty tunic and replacing it with a clean one, trying to simultaneously chance her shoes to sturdier boots that would better protect her feet against the blistering heat of the sands. She also grabbed a jacket, shrugging it on as she hurried out of the lower caverns and make her way quickly to the Hatching Ground.
Arriving at the entrance to the sands she took one bold step in then stopped, stunned into stillness by the view in front of her. Impossible to miss or overlook was the tremendous figure of the queen, watching her eggs protectively. Terrila had heard that Yokaith was a small gold but at that exact moment, looking up at her, she thought she looked far bigger. She also knew that without a doubt should anyone attempt to harm the eggs, they would suffer terribly.
And so they should! Terrila was amazed by the beauty of the eggs before her, she had seen firelizard eggs before and had rather naively thought that dragon eggs would be the same – just bigger; oh how wrong she was.
The eggs were beautiful, each different, with different colours and different markings. With a bow towards Yokaith and keeping one eye on the gold – better to be safe than sorry – Terrila slowly started making her way towards the eggs, not sure exactly what to expect but determined to do whatever she had to.
The first egg she approached was a pink egg, the pattern swirling in her eyes as she drew closer to it. She bent over to get a better look at the pretty pattern – with another quick glance at Yokaith – and received the shock of her life when she felt a confident touch at her mind. The touch was encouraging, almost like it was beckoning her to come closer, like it was happy to have a new friend. Terrila stared in shock at the pretty egg, never in her wildest dreams – which weren’t really all that wild – had she ever imaged the eggs would be so, so alive! And yet the presence in her mind was warm and welcoming and very real and she knew that it was the egg that was touching her mind. With a soft laugh Terrila stepped away from the Gladiolus Egg, still a little shocked by her first experience but bolstered nonetheless, and now curious about what sort of...personalities the other eggs would have.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 16, 2010 5:14 am
Ayna - AepethAyna sat in the front row of the stands, watching the eggs. It felt so strange to be all the way up here. Last time she'd been in here she had been stood on the stands staring out arcoss at the eggs. There were so many more of them this time. Did that make the candidate more nervous or less? More dragons meant more likely that yours was there, but it also meant more chance to be hurt by a hatchling looking for theirs. Ayna's hand ran up and down the top of her leg without thinking. Tracing the lines that Aepeth had left in her leg. She could never be mad at Aepeth for the marks. True, she had needed the injury bandaged and she'd walked with a limp for a while, but it was a small price to pay. In exchange for that injury she had gained Aepeth. That guiding voice that never left her. Even now as the hatchling slept she could hear it. Aepeth had refused to let Ayna go to see the eggs. She was still terribly jealous. The Weyrling Master said that all hatchlings were at first, but that they usually began to relinquish their hold. Aepeth seemed not to be much better than when she hatched. At least she tolerated talking to people now, but physical contact was still off the cards as far as she was concerned. She didn't panic, but the hiss in Ayna's mind intensified to a horrible amount. The strange hiss was a constant now, was as familiar to her now as the sound of her own breathing. At first it had been concerning, but now she didn't know what she would think if she couldn't hear it. Even when Aepeth slept the noise was still present, softly humming away in the back of her mind. Ayna had gone to see the eggs when Aepeth was asleep, the dragon was a slow waker, as soon as the green began to wake Ayna would leave. Aepeth would be angry, but she would get past, possibly even start thinking how the information could be an advantage to her. ____________________________________________ Kila - Camarith Almost skipping into the hatching sands. She had given the weyrlings a day off. Either to go see the eggs or just to spend the day doing whatever they liked. Kila raised her hand in greeting to her leaders and her queen. Looked like it would be a big class this clutch. The Weyr certainly needed it. So many bad things had happened, this was a large clutch. Just the what the healer order for a Weyr with the blues. Speaking of healers, Kila spotted Vay and the other Healer and nearly sprinted up to the pair. It was an often asked question how she managed to have the energy she did. She seemed just as active as her charges. Camarith was no different. He was lounging on dragon ledges by the time Kila reached the pair. She had never met the other Healer in person, her mind was running out of time to supply her with a name. Luckily none of the pairs from Elenneth's clutch had required such care that Kila had had to stay with them. Usually she only had to send them to the infirmary, occasionally sending Glow to be sure they got where they were supposed to. "Greetings Vay and-" The minutest of pauses before the name jumped into her mind. "Diligan." Oh yeah, saved from humiliation once again. There was a reason that Kila had approached Vay in particular, she put on a face known Pern-wide as the face people take when they are about to ask you something. "Vay," Her voice held the vowel in a very child-like way. "You know we had that green that got thicktail? From Amenth's clutch? Well, I'm beginning to worry that the current lot don't completely appreciate how bad that is. I keep telling them to not give their dragons too much, but you know weyrlings, they always think they know better." Kila waved her hand and rolled her eyes at the weyrlings attitudes. They always thought they knew what was better for their dragons. 'Cause of course, Kila didn't know a hatchling and growing dragon's needs at all. "So, I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk to them? You know, put the scare in 'em. Please?" Kila grinned and tilted her head to the side and held her hands clasped in front of her chest in what looked like a slightly tame begging way. She just couldn't handle another hatchling with thicktail, or anything that could be prevented. They made so much noise when they were in pain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
|
Posted: Wed Nov 17, 2010 5:32 pm
Vay and Consecreth
"Oh no, no," Vay said hastily. "We can sit here. I'll cough, chill or no chill, and anyway I wouldn't want to disturb the ones down there."
She thought a moment more before answering the first question he had posed. "Well, I think there has to be some merit in it or it wouldn't be said. I think it's more of a case by case thing. Yokaith definitely had a preference for Tsareth, even as a dragonet, and our Weyrwoman knows his rider well so I imagine he would've been her first choice. Now, Hannele . . " Here she paused, somewhat daunted, before continuing. Shards, but it was time to move on! Give the dead their due respect and don't forget them, that was her motto. Talking about Hannele was one way to keep her memory alive, and heal at the same time. "Hannele, our former Weyrwoman, may have had a preference in her dragon's last flight but I don't think anyone was ready for Ursidaeth - he was a big, strapping brown, fresh from Weyrlinghood - to catch Elenneth. It came out of nowhere and I don't think any preferences were involved, though I could be wrong." Vay shrugged. "It's all up in the air sometimes, really."
She let the silence settle between them for a few moments. It was a comfortable silence, reassuring somehow. Vay felt, strangely, that she had found a friend in Diligan. He was certainly one of the very few males she talked to so easily and so much, having a preference for women. In fact, had her preference not been as strong as it was, she may've developed an attraction for the fellow Healer. His youth was refreshing, and something about him (maybe the subconscious recognition of his very size) that implied sturdiness, reliability. He was the type of co-worker she needed in a Weyr so troubled.
The silence was broken by Kila's energetic greeting. From the tone of her voice Vay knew that the bluerider was about to ask something of her, but she seldom minded Kila's requests. Usually they had something to do with the Weyrlings and this time was no different.
"I don't mind scaring them a little for you, Kila. In fact, Diligan can help me as I'll be having him take over the Weyrling care. He's here for dragonhealing and new Weyrlings can provide plenty of opportunity. Perhaps we can gather all of them up, junior and senior, and we'll have a little session," Vay answered, raspiness creeping into her voice as she spoke. She cleared it vehemently, fighting the urge to start hacking away again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 17, 2010 8:48 pm
Mortificai, CandidateMortificai took a sniff of his forearm, fretting that he hadn't been able to wash off the stink of runnerbeasts well enough. His work in the stables had been a healing experience; it reminded him of the cothold he'd left behind. The chores were simple, if occasionally strenuous, and the beasts responded well to his calm. Nobody had asked him to do any of it, but he had the feeling that if he hadn't found something to occupy his time another task would have been found for him... one perhaps more onerous. At least his cinnamon-hued linen shirt and pants were clean, pleasantly warm, though his hair still hung in damp, chilly black strings down to tickle his neck. He was standing in the Living Cavern, feeling alone in spite of the small crowd of candidates he stood behind. Their voices were a low murmur, not exactly soothing, so indistinct he couldn't hear what they said. Morty tipped up the rest of his well-watered wine while he waited for the other candidates to leave, then toyed nervously with his empty cup until a smiling server took it away. He wanted to wait until the rest of the group left, since he still had trouble finding his way around the Weyr, it would be safer to follow them. Besides, he didn't want to be noticed especially. As a former farmboy, putting himself forward in any way went against the grain. At last, there was motion, and the others started to move. The glows were bright at this time of day, bathing the hallway - and the faces around him - in light. He quickly got lost, though they made few turns, in spite of his determination to mark the way in his memory. Then the Hatching Cavern opened up in front of them. Mortificai was so awed by the pale gold dragon guarding her eggs that he didn't notice anyone else's reaction. Those huge eyes seemed to be looking right at him, though logically the queen could only be looking at the early comers who were already walking among the eggs. For just a moment, he raised a hand to touch two fingertips to the bead on his memory necklace, comforted by the familiarity. The motion was so practiced, so characteristic by now, as to be utterly unconscious. Feeling more than a little ridiculous, he bowed like most of the others had done, more awkwardly but trying to convey the respect he felt for the dragon and the gratitude for the honor at this chance. Yokaith looked awfully big this near, and he would have to go even closer to touch the eggs. Since there seemed to be no real order to which eggs were being touched or by whom, he passed by the brightest egg ( The Gladiolus Egg ) that seemed to be getting the most attention at the moment to one much further from the entrance. The egg he paused at first ( The Amaranthus Egg) reminded him, color-wise, of a rosy red sunset touched with a smattering of clouds. Mortificai crouched beside it, marveling at how large it actually was. Placing his hand on the hard shell, he thought he felt... something... from it, something that made his head feel like it'd been stuffed full of fleece. There was a softly insistent pulsing from within that reminded him of a heartbeat. The enormity of what was happening to him, and all around him, struck Morty so poignantly at that moment his vision blurred with a film of unshed tears. Even if he didn't Impress, his life would be changed forever. He broke the spell by taking his hand away and standing upright, staring down at the rosy egg while he blinked away the moisture. How embarrassing. At the moment he felt much younger than his fifteen Turns. But then, several of the candidates walking around were younger than him. This realization was heartening, and his legs took him of their own accord to another bright egg ( The Daffodil Egg). This one, streaked with green at one end but mostly striated with sunny yellow, had a strange, almost wet sheen that he associated with metal. This one Morty bent down to; placing his whole hand lightly against it, he gasped audibly then blushed. He'd been startled by the presence inside the rosy egg, but the perception he received from this one was stranger if possible. It was as slick as it looked. Coupled with that sensation, he wasn't surprised much at all by the *snick* he felt as much as heard, followed by a sound like an underwater gong. He closed his pale blue eyes to help focus on the feel, and got a vague chill that made him feel as though he were wavering where he stood. It was unsettling, but intriguing. Somewhat more confidently now, Mortificai straightened up and paced toward the next egg, though still glancing back at the yellow and green streaked egg. This one ( The Alstroemeria Egg) seemed more solid than the others, perhaps because it was colored like soil freshly tilled then soaked with rain. The brown streaks were interspersed with a more tawny tan hue, pleasing to the eye in their graceful slight curves. This one he crouched beside because it was significantly smaller than the others, and Morty laid his hand on it with an instant smile. It felt warm, not just to the touch of his palm but also with that vague other sense he was barely aware of. The brown streaked egg didn't fill his head with fuzz, or vertigo; just a sense of calming strength. The youth looked around as he stood up, noticed that the bright magenta egg wasn't being viewed at the moment and started for that one ( The Gladiolus Egg). It seemed to be reaching out, wanting to be touched. He was happy to oblige, at this point aware that he was actually having fun. That sense of delight was foremost in his mind when he put his hand on the pinkish shell; as soon as physical contact was made, he felt a lessening of what nerves remained, that made him almost regret the experience was soon to end. The regret, too, faded away, leaving only a heightened confidence that was new to the youth. Mortificai had always been a bit shy, a bit backwards. Cherishing this memory would bring him strength in the future, he was certain; how many on Pern could say they had attended an event like this, much less actually touched an egg? It wasn't a source of pride, however, more of a humble poise that was as fragile a shell as the eggs' were strong. The last egg Mortificai chose to touch ( The Hydrangea Egg), since most of the other candidates seemed to be done, was a beautiful blue with darker and lighter swirls, and a hint of green at its apex. Now that he had a little more practice with this fledgling sense, he thought he felt a waiting inside the shell, friendly but a little reserved. The most fleeting touch had to be enough, this time, since a younger female candidate was waiting with barely-concealed patience to touch this particular egg. "Sorry," he murmured, avoiding her eyes as he stepped away. A familiar-looking lad near his own age was standing off to the side, auburn red hair making him stand out a bit. He looked so bored, Mortificai found himself walking over to introduce himself, though he was immediately tongue-tied and couldn't meet the guy's big black eyes. After so long being antisocial, it was hard to break the habit. The confidence of a moment ago seemed to wilt as soon as he opened his mouth. "Hello there. I've um, seen you working around the stables sometimes, but usually when I get there you're leaving and... um... oh yeah, my name is Mortificai," he finished with a faint air of desperation. Mentally he started cursing himself with all the flaming shards since the First Egg for being such an idiot. He'd had no trouble speaking back home; why here? Sure, the Weyr housed more people than he'd ever seen, but there was something more than that, something that had put Morty off kilter since the first. (OOC: That's Puckett, I went and glanced at his character sheet to make sure I was getting the physical details right. 4laugh )
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 19, 2010 3:58 pm
As Terrila walked away from the egg she had a proper look around her for the first time. There were a few candidates on the sands now, slowly wandering around the eggs, touching them like she was. She hadn’t met many of the other candidates yet so she wandered whether this would be a good chance to. She gave a small wave to a red-headed candidate near her as she headed off in the direction of the biggest egg in the 27.
It was a bluish colour, with multi-colour streaks and dashes covering the smooth surface of the large egg. As she walked up to it she didn’t feel anything as she thought she would. It wasn’t until she was right next to the egg, her hand reaching out to brush it gently, that she felt a very controlled, calm touch on her mind. She couldn’t help but smile, this was a clever egg, it was almost arrogant in its intelligence but why not, Terrila thought that it deserved to be; after all, how many eggs were as calm and smart as this one. She crouched next to it, suddenly feeling much smaller and younger as she stroked the egg again, feeling quite calm with the Hydrangea Egg.
Standing up from the egg she glanced around, looking to see how many candidates had made their way on to the sands yet.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
