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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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 Posted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 7:34 pm
What was it that Ch'har had said the night before? Onie mused for a few moments to herself, sitting on Yokaith's forelegs. They were, as always, within the confines of the Hatching Cavern, observing the twenty-seven eggs before them. It was a rare moment of solitude for the pair. Since the Touching the sands had been open for access to visitors and Candidates alike, though Yokaith watched them with thinly veiled distaste. Onie's hands brushed over the nearly white-gold hide absently as she struggled to recall. It had been intensely interesting and more than appropriate for their situation, yet the Weyrwoman couldn't put her finger on his exact phrasing - or anything even resembling it. These days anything that did not directly pertain to Yokaith or her clutch was hard to remember, more than likely due to her proximity and how very much in the forefront of the dragon's mind it was. It was a constant shout in Onie's head, and it drowned out anything else. Even the ever pressing official business of the Weyr had recently been relegated to the back of her mind. The Hatching was simply too imminent to pay much attention to anything else.
Happily, it was soon to be over. Onie's mind turned to other things, such as the fast approaching Hatching. Yokaith had begun to . . rumble, periodically, as if practicing for the big event. It wasn't quite the telltale hum, but like a volcano readying itself to erupt, it was a sign of forthcoming action. The dragon had become quieter, more thoughtful, less prone to the broody sniping she had been exhibiting of late. She was very nearly back to her old temperament, and it was a relief to her 'rider as well as anyone within eyesight of the gold. The eggs themselves were hard, tough enough for Onie to rap her knuckles on solidly. Yes, things were drawing to an end.
It is not an end, Yokaith said to her 'rider. Her voice was tinged with exuberance, almost celebratory.
"It is not, is it, heart?" Onie murmured in agreeance. Something was pushing it's way through the cloudy haze caused by Yokaith's obsession with her eggs. "It is time, then?"
Past time, Yokaith said.
Onie stood from the beautiful beast's forelegs, turning to place a kiss on the wedge-shaped head. Yokaith's eyes whirled brightly, swirls of colors forming the rainbow of bliss and assurance rarely seen in the dragon. It was an intimate moment as the pair gazed into each others' eyes, and then, in the metallic throat, a hum began to form.
Some time later . .
The 'riders and dragons began to swoop in. The hum was deafening now, vibrating Onie's skull. From broad, muscled chests - gold, bronze, brown, blue, and green - it came, swelling mightily as if it was a tangible thing, reaching for the very jagged tops of the Hatching Cavern. Yokaith was the conductor of the draconic orchestra, and they rose in pitch as she did. It was still an awe-inspiring sound, no matter how many times Onie heard it. She had taken the time to change into her favorite deep blue gather dress, it's sleeves pinned up to her shoulders and the ruffled hem barely brushing her calves. Her hair was loose, the baby fine strands around her crown sticking to her forehead from sweat. Her thick black boots protected her feet from most of the heat, and what seeped through . . Well, she was used to it by now.
Soon the Candidates were filing in, their robes a stark white against the yellow-gold grains of scorching sand. Onie recognized the excitement tinged with fear in their reddening faces and felt a sharp stab of nostalgia. She remained on the sand beside her Bonded, a hand on the soft hide of the dragon's head.
It is not an end, Yokaith repeated gently. It is a beginning.
"Oh!" Onie cried, struck to tears by the dragon's deep rooted happiness. That was what Ch'har had said -
"Yokaith, it's a new beginning! It's the beginning of our era, heart!" Onie said happily, finally recalling what she had worked so hard to remember. It was as if the cloud inside her head lifted as Yokaith accepted the fate of her eggs - namely, that they were to Hatch, and to Bond, and that everything would be just fine.
The Hatching commenced.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 4:52 pm
Eggs On The Sands
Dragons On The Sands
The Generous Brown
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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 5:26 pm
Ch'har, awkwardly enough, was in the bath when the call went out. Being Weyrleader had its advantages: one of which was a private bath, which he took advantage of shamelessly. Onie liked to tease him that he was going to be permanently wrinkled if he didn't cut back, that his hide wasn't dragonhide and was liable to wear off, but he didn't care. Besides, hot water eased his leg to the point where, thanks to his frequent bathing and soaks, he hardly ever cramped up anymore if he didn't push himself too far.
While bathing has advantages, it is decidedly a DISADVANTAGE if your dragon suddenly bugles loud enough to split your ears, and declares that the eggs are hatching.
Onie's going to kill me if she sees the mess, was the only thought he had when he launched himself out of the tub: sending waves and huge splashes across the entire bathroom floor, slipping and doing a rather painful face-plant into the puddles he'd made. Picking himself back up, completely starkers and now bleeding slightly from his nose, Ch'har dashed into his quarters trying to dry off and stem the blood flow at the same time, grabbing random articles of clothing that looked fancy enough and hoping that they would match and were clean. Shards, forgot to straighten up in here... better find a way to do that before she gets back... Still wet enough that his clothes stuck to him and just barely running a comb through his hair, Ch'har made an awkward dash-hop to his dragon while pulling his shoes on. Tsareth was prancing with impatience, humming happily in his deep voice and only barely able to hold still enough for Ch'har to mount. A minute later they were off and gliding down to the hatching grounds.
They zoomed straight over the heads of other dragons, unable to resist buzzing low over the heads of the candidates that they could see entering the cavern. They were so cute the way they scattered and ducked. With a trill, Tsareth landed on the tiers behind Yokaith and began swaying, his eyes wheeling bright blue, his throat vibrating with a hum. Ch'har slid down, only just barely presentable but grinning nonetheless.
He wanted to say something intelligent and funny, but at the moment found himself unable to speak. A knot of pride in his weyrwoman and the dragons seemed to have stuck in his throat. Expelling his breath with a sigh, he looked out proudly over the eggs, then back to Onie, the to the eggs again. He seemed a bit dumbstruck, as if only now coming to grips with the idea that, yes, baby dragons were going to come out of the eggs.
"Whur?" He said, almost timidly, smiling sheepishly at Onie, clearly at a loss but very pleased.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 8:38 pm
Diligan was taking inventory of the infirmary supplies when a subliminal vibration itched at the back of his bald skull. Twitching his broad shoulders back, he tried to ignored it and continue on with the last shelf of bottled herbs. It wouldn't go away, though, and he finally drew his brows together in a confused thoughtful scowl before turning his head to listen.
He could feel the thrumming in his heels, reverberating its way up his spine to make the base of his neck tingle. While his first thought was that it might be an earthquake, he dismissed it promptly at the steady almost musical tone to it. It was as if the whole Weyr was humming a single note.
Wait...a humming Weyr? The eggs!!
Abandoning the inventory, the tall young man snatched one of the prepared healer's kits from a nearby shelf and made his way quickly to the hatching cavern. Remembering Vay's instructions, he placed himself clear of the entrance, shy of the sands, but within easy reach of anyone who might need assistance.
People were beginning to file in swiftly, jostling each other for the best seats and placing last second bets. Seeing their festive garb, Diligan was again very glad he'd made a point to dress up for the Touching. He was clothed in regular brown work trousers, his creamy white shirt a stark contrast to his dark skin.
Regardless of how much time he might have had to spruce up, he wouldn't have done it. He was on duty, now, and it was no time for wearing nice things. Shifting on his feet, he waited anxiously for the candidates, and the other healers. It was obvious he was excited from the bright glimmer in his dark eyes, but his expression was the picture of alert focus. Silently he begged a mental plea for none of the candidates or hatchlings to get hurt. This was the last place on Pern he wanted to have to use his learned skills...
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 10:06 pm
Puckett closed his large black eyes, pressing his face into the neck of one of the runner beasts. The creature shifted uncomfortably between its feet, its ears pricking up and moving about rapidly. A moment later and Puckett's weaker human hearing picked up the sound. It was the low pulsing hum of the Weyr as each dragon began to sing. He smiled, humming into the runner beast's neck before he pulled back. Humming meant that the eggs were finally hatching. It felt like he had only just done the touching, but it must have been because he was so busy. He gave the creature one more quick pet before he went running back to the barracks, pulling off his shirt as he ran to save time. Once he reached the chest full of his clothes, he started tossing things about as he dug for the white robes he was supposed to wear. He didn't really like the color white because it was so plain, but many different people had told him he had to wear white. He pulled the robe over his head before slipping into the sandals he was supposed to wear too.
Then he went walking towards the sands, the humming continuing to flow through the base of his feet and through his veins. He needed the last few moment to catch his breath and calm down. He knew being this giddy and jumpy wasn't going to do anything for him. He grinned despite it. His aunt had warned him that his smiling made him look foolish, but he couldn't help it. He was going to impress a dragon! He was going to become a dragonrider like his aunt! He took of, skipping to the entrance of the sands before he proceeded to hop the rest of the way. He couldn't walk normally, the sands were too hot! He could feel them burning through his sandals. "Hot! It's so hot!" He whined loudly. He took his place with the other candidates, but he kept hopping up and down. He wasn't sure if he could stay standing for too long. Still, he wanted to see the dragons so bad! Would they hurry up and hatch? He had asked his aunt that question once and she said that dragons didn't hurry for anyone and that dragons didn't wait for anyone.
Favian had spent the last couple of days asleep with a cold. The boy had also refused to leave F'ris side, so that meant the boy had currently taken occupation of F'ris' bed along with Hesperos and Vianna. It wasn't that he actually minded much anyone. He had simply taken to sleeping beside Ikadith instead, something he hadn't done in a long time. It made his threadscore hurt a bit more than usual, but the wounds were healing.
Ikadith picked up his head, his eyes shifting as the bronze began to hum. F'ris hadn't been asleep, just resting against his dragon as he watched his son keep trying to sleep away the cold. F'ris quickly bounced to his feet, over to the bed, and yanked his son out of bed. Favian didn't complain, just rubbed his eyes and yawned terribly and F'ris started fixing the unruly red hair that curled over Favian's head. There wouldn't be time to fetch anything decent from Favian's cot in the lower caverns, so the boy would have to go as is. F'ris fussed over his own hair for a moment before he readjusted his clothes before he picked up his son, Ikadith slipped off the hatching sands ahead of them.
F'ris mounted the stands, breathing deeply from rushing and carrying his son. He deposited Favian in a seat before he settled himself, Hesperos and Vianna fighting over his shoulder space. He looked sharply to the blue lizard as Hesperos dug his claws too deep into the rider's shoulder. The lizards eyes swirled apologetically, and finally they were settled. Well, mostly. Favian had his head propped against F'ris shoulder, half-asleep as he looked dully at the sands. He looked like he was going to fall asleep in any second but if F'ris hadn't taken him, the boy probably would have been rather cross.
"Ready Favian?"
"Mm."
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 11:15 pm
Terrila Considering that she had been waiting for this moment for almost a month now, and had expected it any day now; the humming of the dragons caught Terrila by surprise, causing her to drop the large tray of tubers she was about to start peeling. Not exactly the most exciting job in the Weyr but she didn’t mind doing it and the cooks were grateful to her that she didn’t complain the whole time that she worked. She stood rooted to the spot, tubers spilling all over the floor and earning her a few dirty looks from the kitchen drudges but she didn’t care – it had started! She had a brief moment of panic before she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down, there was no point in panicking, she knew where she had to do and what she had to do. With her clarity restored she hurried out of the kitchen, feeling bad about the mess she had left; but she was sure that the cooks would understand why she was in so much of a hurry. Her first stop was to the small communal bathing room the candidates shared, there she splashed at her face and arms, removing kitchens stains and marks, washing quickly but efficiently, with the practise born from long hours running late at the hold. She then hurried to her cot where she changed at breakneck speed, tugging the white candidate robe over her head, stepping in the sandals and pulling off the scarf she’d had tied round her hair all at the same time. She strapped up the sandals as she left the small room, not wasting a single second by staying still. By the time she’d hurried through the lower caverns and arrived at the entrance to the sands she was out of breath and panting heavily. Cursing her weakness she slowly made her way onto the sands for the second time, slightly amazed that this time the eggs were ready to hatch and soon would be looking for their riders. With another steadying breath she walked/hopped/skipped/ across the hot sands towards where the other candidates were standing, a little ways from the eggs, close enough to be in reach, but not close enough to crowd the hatchlings when they emerged. Once in place she clasped her hands in front of her and began to breathe as deeply as her weakened lugs would allow, focussing on steadying her breathing, ignoring her burning feet and being as ready as she could possibly be for when the hatchlings made their choices. Aleerna and Sidheth There was just something truly amazing about a hatching, Aleerna thought as Sidheth swooped into hatching ground. Wedged behind the greenrider were three guests who gasped and cried with amazement and delight at the sights of the rapidly filling stands. The lady right behind her had screeched loud enough to be heard between as they had gone through the entrance, she had been convinced that they were going to crash with a rather large bronze also entering at the time. Sidheth was slightly disgruntled at what she took as being a lack of faith her flying and when she landed on the stands she landed rather heavily, jolting her passengers. Now, now, this is a Hatching my love, a happy and joyous occasion. Aleerna soothed her green as she helped her passengers to slide to the stands before dismounting herself. Sidheth took off again to settle at the top of the stands with the other dragons as Aleerna found a good spot to see, watching as the candidates started to walk out onto the hot sands, remembering her own discomfort when she had been in their position. Settling back she glanced around, looking for her friends she couldn’t help but snigger slightly at what some of the guests were wearing. Some of the women (undoubtedly lesser Holder’s wives who had never been to a hatching) were wearing flimsy and wispy dresses and garments and were shivering whenever a gust of wind blew through the sands. Aleerna was perfectly warm, even after the trips between to pick up her passengers. Her dark brown wherhide trousers had subtle embroidery up the outside seams so they looked good and kept her warm. She was wearing a deep, deep green long sleeved tunic that looked almost black with an embroidered blue vest over the top, keeping her toasty warm. She had pulled her long fringe back from her face and braided the rest of her hair, seeing no point in leaving it down to get tangled by the wind.
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Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2010 11:43 pm
A girl in the much-padded, soil-marked garb of a gardener came running up to the wood shed, where Mortificai was taking a turn chopping sections of log into manageable pieces. It was bitterly cold outside, but the repetitive swing of the axe and methodical stacking had warmed him almost to the point of sweating. The girl was so excited she could hardly get her breath, and her teeth were chattering besides, so it took a moment for her message to come out clearly. "Th-th-th-the Ha-ha-ha-hatching. I-i-it's s-s-s-starting!" He straightened from the labor and leaned briefly back against the chill, comforting stone wall, axe hanging in his grip. The other lads working in the shed paused with obvious impatience for the old man supervising them to give them leave to go. The man grinned, scratched at the white stubby hair on his cheek and ordered the four of them to hang their tools neatly before they went, which of course led to a mad scramble. Mortificai hurried as much as the rest; each of them wanted to splash a little warm water on their faces and hurry to the Hatching Caverns. They would certainly have to take turns with someone; the kitchen staff would be busy creating the Hatching Feast, so they would have to find someplace else to wash. They were all sprinting at top speeds, Mortificai behind a longer-legged but younger guy, ahead of the other two. Before they were halfway to the door, the gardener girl pulled ahead of them all, laughing as she ran. She bent to snatch what looked like oversized shears from near a berry bush, hardly breaking stride, and whirled back toward the shed with admirable responsibility. For a few paces, Morti couldn't help remembering how her legs flashed so gracefully as she ran, even covered in several layers of wool. Washing up in the lukewarm water that was left in the candidates' bathing-room gave him a bit of a breather, and he debated mentally for a moment about whether he needed to change clothes completely, or just toss the Candidate robe over top what he already wore. It was the idea that eggs could be cracking on the sands right now that made him do that very thing before heading for the Hatching Caverns, running his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair a few times along the way. Morti felt the multitude of dragons humming long before awareness of it sank in. His stomach seized up with nerves, and he slowed to follow the last few Candidates trickling in at a brisk walk. There were so many people in the stands the hum of human conversation mimicked the dragons', but somewhat muted by comparison. Mindfulness made the youth pause and bow to Yokaith, the same as at the Touching, before he took a place standing near a much younger Candidate, who was hopping and exclaiming that the sands were hot. The heat actually felt good to Mortificai at the moment, but he could guess that would soon change. His silvery-blue eyes scanned around the stands, straining for a glimpse of B'ron, the brownrider who had Searched him, or of any of his acquaintances here... anything to steady his nerves. ~*~ Zanaiel was helping one of his favorite old aunties write a letter to her brother when he figured out what was going on. No thanks to Shirk, who lay across his shoulders watching the ruckus with interest. The Living Cavern was abuzz with the news, and it seemed everyone was filing out rapidly. The woman was straight and slender as a sapling; though stiff in her movements, she hadn't lost even a scrap of wits to her advancing age... only her manual dexterity. "We can finish this later. Weyr needs some good cheer to brighten us all up," she said firmly. "Anytime I'm not on duty," he agreed with a dazzling smile, folding the parchment carefully and capping the inkjar to place in his hardened leather writing pouch. Zan instructed the young firelizard sternly to take the pouch back to the room, then return. The vocalization from the little brown could only be described as sulky, but he did listen. This time. Zanaiel offered the lady his arm, though she carried a wooden cane, and together they walked sedately to the Hatching Cavern's entryway. The woman gathered her pride and let go his arm, thanked him politely, and went on a little more slowly to find a place to sit, while Zan paced over to stand by Diligan. As soon as he came to a halt, he straightened his posture automatically until he could have been standing at attention. It didn't help. The truth was, Diligan's sheer size made him a little intimidating, a feeling this journeyman certainly wasn't used to experiencing. They hadn't exactly had much time to converse, even about their shared craft, but in watchfulness for potential mishaps they were matched. "Good day to you, Journeyman Diligan." The greeting sounded a little too formal if anything, yet Zanaiel's self confidence dimmed around this large, (almost unbearably attractive) slightly-older (and more experienced) healer. As soon as he realized he was taking refuge in predictability, Zan added more conversationally, and with a hint of flirt, "That shirt was well chosen. It looks great on you."Momentary distraction came when Shirk popped out from between only a few feet above Zan and landed on his right shoulder precariously. The warm breath stirred a lock of bright orangey hair so it tickled, making the young healer's lips quirk into a slight smile. The little lizard had more than tripled in size since hatching, but seemed to be approaching the end of growth; this sevenday, he was no longer than the last, at least not noticeably. Just one more thing to be concerned about, Zan reflected ironically.
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 7:18 pm
Onie and Yokaith
"Whur indeed, my good Weyrleader," Onie said, feeling uncharacteristically mischievous - no doubt due to the festivity of the occasion. "Shall I call a Healer for you, Ch'har? You seem to have a nosebleed," she added, her deep green eyes sparkling. She knew very well that Ch'har didn't suffer from random nosebleeds, but rather from over-enthusiasm spiced with clumsiness.
"My mother and her new husband Halas are here," she said excitedly, gesturing to a special area reserved for rank. Malana was not, in fact, a ranking Pernese but she was Onie's mother, and she would sit there, all griping be damned between. The woman, beginning to show her age however gently, was a beauty, possessing the same wide eyes (though not quite as wide, and blue), the same creamy skin (though hardly as wraithlike), and identical heavy black hair with only her daughter's to rival it. The gray streaks in her locks merely accentuated her mature, nearly regal bearing. Beside her sat a large, brown-haired man (fat being considered a rude term), his face red with excitement and exuding an almost overbearing amount of joviality - Halas. The pair were on separate ends of the aesthetic spectrum, but nevertheless, they looked at each other with fondness. Malana had learned to love again, even after Werek's death, and it showed.
B'ron and Hath
Hath, patient, ever enduring Hath, was among the first to sweep into the Hatching Cavern. He had very much been insistent upon going to the Hatching, despite his rider's protests. B'ron, in a fit of temper, had declared it pointless for a blind man to attend such an event. Nevertheless, he had been persuaded, if only because his mother would be there as well.
Upon arriving the brownrider discovered via Gar where his mother was sitting and cursed. He couldn't just go sit with her, not being in Onie's graces anymore. He felt certain that she'd pitch an absolute fit and throw him out of the Weyr altogether; her temperament had been so uncertain of late. They still hadn't spoken since his outburst and the ensuing "consequences", and B'ron, if being totally honest with himself, missed it. Yet, her newfound haughtiness was quite unappealing.
He struggled to find a seat, grumbling the entire time. Shards, but wouldn't the mass of people part for a blind man? He pushed and shoved his way through, Gar scolding and chittering (and was that flame?) at the finely dressed people in their way. Finally, B'ron was alerted of an open area and he sat with a thump, fully aggrivated.
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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 7:22 pm
 The Gladiolus EggIt is with a singular, resounding pop that the Gladiolus egg splits, signaling the real beginning of the Hatching. the creature inside scrabbling at the two halves with his claws in an effort to remove his brightly colored obstacle. After a few moments of work the dragonet is revealed - a brown of a deeply rich shade. His ridges, a brighter red-brown, seem to stick out in contrast with his dark tones. Carefully he begins to flick egg-shell off of him, though it's a slow business as his hide is still sticky with fluids. Once satisfied and unencumbered by shell, the creature moves forward, eyes whirling in a rhythmic circle, only to stop after a few steps from his shell. He casts his head about, from the direction of the stands to the young people on the Sands, as if in confusion, before finally settling. For some odd reason he seems to hang back, as if he wishes to give his clutchmates the first pick of the half-circle of potential life partners before him.
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Posted: Sat Dec 11, 2010 11:01 pm
Jeska too was taking inventory in the infirmary when the humming started. Growing up in a Weyr, you got used to it, like a sixth sense, such that you could almost feel it coming before it started. One of the journeymen that had been working there picked up his bag and dashed out. "Oh. Shall I finish that.. then..?" Jeska asked, but he was already gone. She giggled to herself to see him run off like that. Confused, the sleepy Dozer cracked an eyes and looked up at her, flashing her images of the humming eggs, riders and dragons flocking to the sands. "I know, Doze, but there's still time."
On the one hand, she was technically supposed to be helping out with the other healers down there, but on the other Jeska was a perfectionist who hated to leave work half-finished. In any case, it would be a little while yet before the dragonets were out of their eggs, much less lumbering around injuring people. Jess leaned over and poked her half-sleeping flitt. "Go keep an eye on things for me, will you dear?" she told the firlizard. Dozer lifted his handsome blue head and gave her a most pitiful look, like all he ever wanted in life was a moments peace. But he did, eventually, sit up and take off between, reappearing high up in the hatching cavern, close enough to watch but far away from the frightening Gold.
Fortunately for her, the Flit had a good intuition and it was a few moments before the Gladiolus egg hatched that he warned her it was about time to come. And luckily, she was just about finished with the inventory. By the time she made it down, the newborn brown was just moving forward and beginning to survey the waiting Candidates. "Cutting it a little close, eh Dozer?" she teased as her appeared behind her and landed on her shoulder. He flicked his head indignantly, with a sort of 'Says you'.
Slipping the bag from her shoulder, Jeska took position behind Zanaiel and Diligan. She wondered if they would be too enthralled with the hatching to notice her, so she tried sneak up quietly. "Good day, journeymens." she said suddenly, when she was right behind them, seeing if she would startle them. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward, to peer past them. "A brown, eh? That's not a bad start. He is a handsome boy isn't he?" she admired. Dozer gave a jealous flick of the tongue. "Not as handsome as you, my dear."she murmured, scratching his chin.
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 10:35 am
"Uh..." Ch'har raised a hand up to his nose, feeling the blood there that was semi-dry, and now somewhat embarrassed given that Onie's mother and father were there. Shells, he'd wanted to make a good first impression - no pun intended. "Long story. No healer. Explain later." He grinned sheepishly.
Complete sentences, Tsareth advised, closing his eyes happily and thrumming even louder. Ch'har cleared his throat, stepped over to the pair, and executed a polite half-bow.
"Ma'am, Sir, it's a pleasure," he said, flashing his best smile. He was about to say more when his eyes were drawn away by the sight of the eggs.
"Woah, hey, there it goes!" He said, pointing down at the Gladiolus Egg, almost jumping up and down. "Look, look, that one, there!" He gave a loud whoop when the brown emerged, and this time he did jump - a very high jump, raising his fist in the air. "Onie, Onie, Onie, looklooklook, did you see him? Did you see? Oh, well done, fella!"
Tsareth, more composed and dignified, merely looked adoringly down at the hatchling, then to Yokaith, and hummed.
--------
"Down, put me down, down, down, down - " Was the noise that proceeded the two riders into the hatching cavern. Several lizards, two browns and one bronze, flitted through the air over their heads and added even more chaos to the struggling pair: one carrying the other over their shoulders, and one flailing and writhing all over the place, apparently trying to get down.
"Quit wobbling or you will get down; in the most unpleasant way possible." N'mar said, doing his best to blithely ignore the protests of the greenrider on his shoulders. "Where's that mate of yours?"
"N'mar, I swear I will have Ghinath eat your a-"
"Ah-ha! There he is! Aa-nd I think I see Aleerna too! Excellent, excelle- OUCH!" Ixiara, apparently, did not take kindly to being carried in like a sack of potatoes, and had finally managed to land a fairly solid hit on the top of N'mar's head with her elbow. The bronze lizard crowed approval.
"Oh come on, I'm only returning the favor from last Hatching," N'mar said, making his way around the spectators as best he could while carrying such an unwilling passenger, "Be a good sport about it. It's only a few more tiers - "
"Brownrider I swear if you don't put-me-down-right-now I'll find you when you're sleeping and cut off - "
"Hey there, B'ron! Got something for you." Unceremoniously dumping Ixiara in B'ron's lap, N'mar gave a cocky salute and walked off before the irritated greenrider had a chance to regain her feet. Struggling to get up, Ixiara yelled promises of dire retribution after him, which only served to widen the grin on N'mar's face. Once it was clear that he was not listening, however, she sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and shook her head. The subtle twist to her mouth, however, indicated that she was beginning to be amused by the situation rather than irritated.
Making his way back along the stands, with a few 'excuse me' and 'pardon me' comments, N'mar found Aleerna and plopped down next to her, grinning and throwing a casual arm around her shoulders.
"M'lady," he said, for all the world as if he'd only just arrived, "May I say that you look absolutely stunning?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 11:07 am
Diligan
Diligan watched as the candidates began to file in, bare-footed and sporting the traditional white robes. His brows drew down thoughtfully at the lack of sandals or boots, but quickly lifted in recognition as Zanaiel paced over to stand next to him. He honestly didn't know that many people in the Weyr yet, and he was glad the shorter red-head opted for some conversation while they waited for the hatchlings to arrive. Another thing he hadn't been sure of was if talking so near the sands would be considered tactless. It wasn't as if they were sitting in the gallery, after all.
“And a good day to you as well, Journeyman Zanaiel,” he chuckled, the formal reply tinged with humor. He brushed his hands down the front of his tunic, a grin quirking at the corners of his mouth. “Not as festive as I'd like on this occasion, but you're looking rather fetching. That little pink number you had on for the clutching just wasn't quite the right shade for your complexion.”
Speaking of pink... A resounding pop from the direction of the sands diverted his attention as the Gladiolus Egg cracked open, spilling out a rich brown dragonet. Diligan's dark eyes lit up, his face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of the new life. It helped that the hatchling seemed calm and alert, not charging at the candidates and eager to draw first blood. He had no idea how the rhythm and pace of hatching worked, and he had just turned to say something to Zanaiel when he caught the distinctly feminine bounce of blonde curls out of the corner of his eye just as Jeska spoke. Admittedly, he did start a bit, surprised to have someone sneaking up behind him, but he didn't jump.
“Ah, he is,” he nodded, looking back at the patiently waiting brown. With a shrug, he flashed a grin and rolled his eyes. “But they all look handsome to me, since I'm sadly lacking the turns of experience to base any kind of comparison.” Stepping aside a bit to give Jeska some room to join them, he swept her a little bow. “And I completely abandoned you to the inventory, Jeska, I apologize. I knew Zanaiel was busy elsewhere, and all these oldtimers have been taking far too much delight in filling my head with hatching horror stories. I thought I should get here as fast as possible, just to be on the safe side.”
A few more candidates zipped through the entrance, and proceeded a little more sedately to the sands. “So, everyone is betting up a frenzy, did you two put your marks on anything?”
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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 1:35 pm
 The Hydrangea EggIt was shortly after the Generous Brown's appearance that the Hydrangea Egg began to rock violently. It shook from one side to the other until finally falling onto it's side, rolling about as the creature within fought heartily to enter the world. It didn't take long for the shell to fall apart and big pieces of the blue hull flaked away to reveal . . the Confident Bronze. His hide was brighter than commonly seen bronze shades, akin to a piece of dark gold that had been put in the fire to melt - it's edges becoming orange in the heat. Away from the mess he stepped, flicking away the remains that clung to his tail courtesy of the sticky fluid all over his body. He eyed the crowd of Candidates for only a moment before heading toward the main knot of them, brushing past his more timid brown clutchmate (who was still hanging back, looking supremely confused), utterly sure of himself. His was there; he knew it. 
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 2:09 pm
Onie and Yokaith
It pleased Onie tremendously to watch Ch'har bow to her mother, and found an even greater smile at his enthusiasm. She walked the few paces to join them, standing against the railing designed to protect the 'important' figures on Pern from tripping over their finery and tumbling onto the Sands.
"He looks like he will be big, does he not?" Onie asked, gesturing. So it wasn't a bronze for the first hatchling, but that meant nothing. (Or did it? Look what had happened to Hannele . .) The Weyrwoman shook her head as if to physically dispel any negative thoughts.
Malana, having been silent, rose from her seat to stand by her daughter. They did not share the same height, and for a moment Onie merely looked awkwardly tall beside her mother.
"How can you tell?" Malana asked, speaking for the first time.
"Well, see the way he moves, mother? Dragonets are clumsy, obviously, but this one seems to have more bulk than he knows what to do with," Onie answered. "His haunches are thick already, and he can only grow into them from here." With gentle gestures as she spoke, Onie seemed to lose her physical awkwardness as she settled into a subject she knew something about. It was a switch, for once. Usually Malana was instructing Onie, and not the other way around. The Weyrwoman leaned on the ledge, nearly doubled over, to watch the eggs as things really began to . . rock.
A green and a blue burst from their shells, but neither of them made an immediate Impression. Onie wondered idly if they'd ever get on with it, when her eye was caught by the Hydrangea egg.
"Ch'har! Ch'har, a bronze!" She cried, grabbing his arm in celebration, completely unabashed. "Their first bronze! Oh, he's large! He moves the way Yokaith did when she hatched, and he's at least as big . ." Onie's eyes glittered as she looked at her Weyrleader. "Clearly Tsareth has shown up in this clutch. Look at him go for those Candidates!"
They are the sire and dam, and not us, Yokaith said sarcastically to Tsareth, in rare form.
B'ron and Hath
B'ron had been sitting, nay, sulking, when he heard some sort of commotion. He remained still for safety's sake but it didn't take him long to recognize Ixiara's voice making dire threats to someone. It seemed to come closer and closer, and for a frightened moment B'ron wondered if she meant to cut off his-
Ixiara was dumped into his lap suddenly, Gar's warning coming a few seconds late. The 'lizard chittered in apology, nuzzling at his dear B'ron, before hitting the air after the culprit N'mar. His screeches were uncommonly loud and he was so unfocused that it took several moments for B'ron to figure out exactly what had happened.
"Carried here against your will too, hm?" he finally said, reaching out to the greenrider after she had regained her footing. He yanked her down, effectively returning her to his lap, his hand travelling across her face for only a moment before finding her lips and putting a careful kiss there. He wondered briefly, as he had many times before, if it ever bothered her to have her face felt up almost constantly. He liked to touch her features, and it helped with his placement of kisses, certainly.
Your mother, Hath said mildly to both 'riders.
"Quiet," B'ron barked aloud to his Hath. He was still rather cross with being 'persuaded' to come to the Hatching. "She will meet Ixiara in due time, after all."
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Stark Raveling Mad Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Dec 12, 2010 3:50 pm
'Hot! Hot! It's so hot!' Puck's voice had gone dry a long time again and he didn't want to waste his energy complaining to much. The last hatching had been a good warning. if he wasn't careful and didn't pay attention he was going to get scratched up. He hopped back a step as a handsome brown popped from the pretty pink egg. He hadn't been expecting that. He thought it was going to be a pretty girl dragon. He had judged the surface too harshly it seemed.
A blue and a green followed next but all the hatchings seemed hesitant to push forward and seek out their candidates. It was a little scary and he watched them, still hopping slightly. These dragons were nice and quiet and calm, he thought. These three wouldn't be hurting anyone, not on purpose anyway. Well, his aunt had told him dragons didn't hurt people on purpose.
The next dragon that hatched wasn't like its siblings. The first bronze broke from the pretty blue swirly egg, and Puck immediately started back. The bronze, unlike his siblings, was eager to find his candidate. Puck was not going to get in his way and he wasn't that comfortable standing so close to the other candidates anyway. It was a good excuse to get away from them and a good way not to get hurt.
He searched the sands for his aunt, setting his eyes on her. So, she really had come to watch him. He smiled up at the stands, lifting his arm to wave. He didn't call out to her, knowing that she'd yell at him later for being an idiot. But she had come, and that was good enough for him. It made it easier that someone had come to watch him rather than no one.
He quickly turned his black eyes back to the sands. More hatchlings would be coming soon. He would have to be careful. "It's so hot!"
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