2012 Ryssim Searched / Egg Touching

09:37 PM
Logfile from Pippa.

Living Cavern
The smooth, rounded walls cavern sweep upward from an oval base, two dragonlengths long and one wide, large enough to seat every member of the Weyr at mealtimes. The soft blackness of the lava which forms these caverns swallows glowlight, so shelves for glowbaskets abound, dotting the walls every three or four paces and casting gentle greenish light toward the sparkles of gold volcanic glass embedded in the ceiling. Ancient, lustrous tables run along the axis of the cavern, and at the far end rests the raised dais and high table, where Weyrleaders and honored guests eat during formal occasions. Behind the high table, the Weyr's symbol is embedded into stone: a smoking mountain in black on an orange shield, trimmed in gold.
Perched near the food are sixteen firelizards.
You see Firelizard Tapestry, Living Cavern Notice Board, and Intra-Weyr Games Trophy here.
Ashkir and Ryssim are here.
Obvious exits:
Northeast Caverns Kitchens Bowl Southern Caverns

Lean and lanky, Ryssim has the rangy look of a teenager mid-growth-spurt. His limbs hang too long on his ropy frame, hands and feet awkwardly larger than necessary at his unimpressive height of 5'5". His calloused hands and wiry musculature are emblematic of a labor-intensive profession; these hard edges to him are offset by the elfin delicacy of his features. Wide green eyes, a dusting of freckles across his straight nose and high-boned cheeks, narrow face tipped off by a slender pointed chin. His deep auburn hair lies short and feathered over his lightly tanned face.
Clothing is, apparently, not something Ryssim pays very intensive attention to. His is clearly chosen out of pragmatism over style. His ankle-high boots are sturdy and in good repair, if rarely polished; his legwear tends towards cut-off shorts or plain trousers, his tunics are serviceable and neat, but rarely elegant.
He is a teenager of about 16. He is awake, but seems rather distracted.

Feathery light blond hair falls from the top of this young man's head and falls in uneven lengths about his head. His bangs are usually pushed off to the side of his head and hooked behind his ears, but they do have a tendancy to fall in front of his eyes every so often. Blonde eyebrows arch over his light blue eyes that seem to twinkle with unseeen mischief. The young man has a light tan to his skin, suggesting that he spends a lot of time outdoors, he seems to look a lot younger than he really is, suggesting that he never quite grew out of that awkward teenage faze. He also is rather short for his age and looks to be rather lacking in the muscular department. One's attention is usually drawn to his hands which are usually covered in various paints, and when they aren't covered by paints, they are covered by thin silver-colored scars from cutting himself.
Ashkir can usually be seen wearing a light brown leather shirt that looks like it has seen a couple of turns of use. The leather has long faded and and multiple patches can be seen sewn in. His pants aren't in any better condition, what used to be a black color looks more like gray colored with dust of the road.
He is a young adult of about 20. He is awake, but seems rather distracted.

Ashkir tilts his head and stands to his feet, shoving the rest of his food into his mouth, "Well, it wouldn't be so bad. I'm thinking of just putting down some large piece of wood, wrapping it in rope or something like that. It'd have to be dug in really deep and have a bit of support. Maybe build a wall like that, it could work." He takes a moment to swallow down his food, "I should get back, I was just gonna grab a quick bite to eat. Maybe I could run some ideas against you some other time and have you draw it down for me?"

"I could do that." Ryssim's smile stretches genuinely wider, head bobbing once in a nod. "And if you need help. With the digging or anything. Maybe not the planning. But I can dig just fine." His stylus waggles at the other man, perhaps a gesture passing for a wave. "I'll see you 'round, yeah?" He does not really wait to see an answer, turning his attention back to the sketchpad in his lap.

Pippa sweeps through the cavern like a whirling dervish… or maybe just Pippa upon a mission. Her wrap floats about her tanned calves, fluttering with her movements. Sandal-clad feet patter across the hard rock flooring, "Come along, kiddoes. Time to touch my eggs. Get along now. UpUpUp." Pause. "I see you over there Ashkir, you better be talking about my fence. But right now, you'll be touching some eggs. Come along." The woman continues along, only to pause as the sight of Ryssim, frown slightly, give the teen a look from scalp to toes, cluck her tongue, then snap her fingers. "You know what. You come too, kid. UpUp. No. No sketching. Don't get your nose in there so quickly. Come touch some eggs." Yep. She means you too, Ryssim. Clear by the finger pointing at right at him, then wiggling as if in a 'come hither' sort of move.

Ashkir perks up as he hears his name, his eyes flicker up to glance the weyrwoman whirling into the living caverns. "Oh, hey Pippa." Blinkblink, "I was talking about the fence, trying to figure out how it could work out." He rubs at the back of his head, looking from the weyrwoman to Ryssim behind him. "A touching? Now?" Well, at least it's excusing him from chores! "Sure, I'll come look at the eggs."

"Me?" Ryssim's eyes open wide, though this stare is, initially, focused down at his sketchpad. It takes a second for him to lift it, tucking his stylus behind his ear as he does so. He slides slowly off the table that he sits on to stand on the floor, hugging his sketchpad against his chest. "Touch — your eggs?" This earns Pippa a very bemused(and perhaps a little wary) look towards her midsection. "Okay but — aren't those — don't those live inside you?"

"Aye, now. Did I stutter? I mean what I'm saying here. You come with me. You touch my Jeyth's eggs. You get familiar with those shells and some folks sometimes get… well, I'll just leave that unsaid. You feel what you feel. So aye, come now and touch the eggs," Pippa responds, leveling a look first at Ashkir and then over to Ryssim, "Touch. My. Eggs." Beat. "On the sands. Just, out…" She trails off, stops, stares, stares some more at Ryssim, and then stares some more just because she can, "Oi, you're a literal bastard, aren't you? I can either come over there and smack your bottom or you can get your arse up and move it towards the hatching sands before I plant my foot in a place so no eggs anywhere will do you any good to your future generations." There is a moment, then she continues, "So, you wanna go or not?" It isn't until she is done speaking that a wry grin touches her lips.

Right, Ashkir is moving his ass! No more talking from him, instead, he eats the last of his food and quickly follows on the heels of the weyrwoman, "C'mon Ryssim, she invited you, let's get going." He flahses a grin at him, laughing loudly at the weyrwoman's reaction, but he's certainly not going to comment. The jury's still out on that decision. "I'm ready to go ma'am."

Ryssim's wide-eyed stare gets even wider. "Your /Jeyth's/ — oh. Oh! /You're/ the — /oh/." He swallows, shrinking slightly back, and lowers the sketchpad he holds juuust a little bit. "I'm coming!" And the teenager does, scampering quickly after the weyrwoman. "I didn't know that — I mean I've never seen — I mean, I'm new here," he says with a duck of his head.

Pippa's dark eyebrows lift after Ryssim's word. "Aye, that I am. Best you make a note of it, kiddo. Good thing you are at least quick on your feet here. I'll give you that." She flashes both of the boys a broad wink before clicking her fingers and striding out to the bowl. "Best get you right involved in the Weyr then kid. Nothing like an initiation by getting to touch what is most precious to us. No, you aren't going to get to touch T'ab. Just Jeyth's eggs." And with that said, she heads out.

Hatching Grounds
The heat here is stifling, encompassing, swallowing mind and hazing sight into waved oblivion. Sparkling, coarse black sand simmers with volcanic urgency underfoot, its hillocks and dunes arranged to queen's liking; reflected light filters in, offered not even perceived respite. When empty, the vault of this cavern is hushed, still that echoes and rebounds; when occupied, it is intensified.
Gold Jeyth and brown Ruenalth are here.
You see Mound of Eggs here.
Obvious exits:
Ryssim walks out onto the sands.
Ashkir walks out onto the sands.
Rocco sashays out onto the sands.

A hatching cavern is a hatching cavern is a hatching cavern. Dark sands, a small number of eggs littering the sands, a BIG DRAGON stationed over there, on her haunches, looking to those coming out onto the sands. Yes, Jeyth is watching. Pippa leads the candidates (and Ryssim) along towards the sands, waving to Rocco as they move along, "Come along with! Touching eggs. Any of you done this before?"

Rocco was heading back to the barracks when beckoned by Pippa, and he's more than happy to fall in line and be marched out ont othe Sands. "I've done it," he says, raising his hand like a good Harper-taught kid. "Though it's been… Faranth, well more than a turn now since I was last on any hatching sands." And he'd forgotten how hot they can be too, as he looks gingerly down at his sandal-clad feet.

Ashkir is hot on the Pippa's heels though his pace starts to slow as they actually enter the sands. His eyes dart around the area, "It doesn't look much different down here than it does up in the gallaries," he observes, his attention turning to the main reason why they're there: eggs. "I've never done it." He shifts on the sands, it is rather hot on the sands, after all.

Ryssim arrives on the stands still clutching his sketchpad to his chest, every bit as wide-eyed as he was when the Weyrwoman first spoke to him. The teenager shakes his head, slow and a bit awed as he looks around the hatching sands. Maybe also a bit sweaty, perspiration beading on his forehead. Possibly from heat. Possibly from nerves. "No'm, I've never — I've only even been at the Weyr a few -" He frowns in thought, but then, distracted by another thought, asks instead (murmured somewhat quieter, to Ashkir), "— are we supposed to touch /T'ab/ some time?" His murmur fades away into a heavy swallow as he looks at the clutchmother. "Wow," is all he manages, nervous-small and wondering.

Pippa turns her head to look back at Rocco, grinning to him, "Well, must like anything… not much to it. Just watch yourself around the eggs. If you suddenly feel some pain and it all goes dark on you, you've clearly done something bad. I don't want that. You don't want that. Don't do anything bad and it'll all go well. Go ahead and check out them eggs." So it is with those words that Pippa peels off and heads for Jeyth, clucking her tongue, "Hey, girl. I know, they ain't much, but we'll let them cop a feel here to get used to 'em."

Rocco looks up to Jeyth with a cautious smile, remembering enough from times before to offer her a bow before he takes a step forward - though it's not without giving Ashkir a wink first. "Slow and steady," he offers the blonde, with a little finger-waggle of hello for the unknown teen beyond him, grinning at his question. "I can't say I'd be so opposed to copping a feel of the /Weyrleader/." Then the once-beautician is moving out amongst the eggs, making a beeline for the My, You Look Fletching one.

A quiver. A breath of wind. It is the whistle that tickles like an exhale of a breeze across the nape of your neck. It is the pause, that pregnant pause where all is still, all is centered on that touch. Where the wait seems to take forever, and ever, and ever. And… THERE. The release is another exhale but the response is quick, fast, sure, and heart-striking. BOOM.

Pippa makes a comment from where she is, near to Jeyth, "Long as it is only a feel, kid. Don't let T'ab try to get you to do any more than that."

"Um, I don't really like feeling people up that I'm not really familiar with." Ashkir chimes in as he eyes the eggs, trying to decide which one he's most interested in. Rocco gets a little wave in greeting, "Don't say something like that, you're going to make me even more nervous!" And then he's moving slowly forward, making sure to move carefully. He pauses before the Splish Splash Egg and brushes his fingers against the shell curiously.

Synchronized with touch comes… touch. It is a mirror of feeling. With each brush, there is a brush in kind, a sweep across the senses to copy, to mimic, to return in perfect response. Nervous? No. Not that though. But sure. Sure in mimicry. Ashkir see - Egg Do. What you do, this egg will do. Do. Do.

Ryssim is distracted by Rocco's finger-waggle, giving a rather puzzled look between Rocco and Ashkir. And then another one. His brow furrows in confusion, but rather than make comment, he turns his attention back to the eggs. "Will he try?" This idea seems to intrigue him, or perhaps he is just trying to distract himself from the Very Large Dragon nearby. He approaches the eggs slowly, splitting his attention between them and Jeyth. In the end he heads towards Flame On Egg, placing a tentative hand against it. Very tentative.

FLARE. Sparks. Embers. Glow. This is fire. This is the life and the heat and the light. Orange and red and yellow are typical, the blue is fainter, flickering, tickling the senses with a hint of what is within. The longer the touch, the deeper the singe. Touch too long and you may get burned.

"Ooooh." A gentle shudder runs through Rocco, who slowly draws his hand back from the egg with a strange sort of grin. He leans down to whisper something quietly to its coppery shell, stroking a fingertip delicately across it before stepping back and moving on to the next one - the Trinity Egg. He stands beside it, contemplating it for a moment, before reaching out to place his palm on the smooth shell.

There is a quiet serenity to this egg, a stillness that surpasses any sort of quiet to that of the mind. Dedication is here. Training. And there is one fine set of reactions. For just as quick as you touch, that within responds just as quick. It is a flurry of images, a flurry of bluring actions that seem to attack your senses, hitting here, there, there and here again, striking to score points in your mind and soul. Take that! And That! And THAT!

Ashkir blinks at the egg and he quickly moves to drop his arm, "Whoa, wierd." He stands to his feet and peers at the egg, as if contemplating it. "That is certainly not what I was expecting." He seems to pause a moment to gather himself together and meanders over towards the Open to Interpretation egg, tilting his head at it and brushing his fingertips very tentatively at it.

The cavern may be silent but there is a music here. Rhythmic. It sounds from somewhere else, maybe somewhere exotic, maybe somewhere familiar. But there is music, lyrical and beautiful, perfect in symbolism and artistic in ways that can hardly be quantified. A silken touch, a glossy shine of a sphere, a perfect hoop that circles all, circles your mind.

Ryssim can't help his quiet gasp a moment after contact. Despite the initial surprise, the smith apprentice actually seems to relax, some, his palm brushing gentle but less nervous over the egg's shell. A small smile pulls at his lips, and his hand lingers on the shell a long moment — until abruptly he pulls it away with a hiss of breath between his teeth, shaking his hand slightly and wiping his palm against his shorts. Swallowing again, the sweat is beaded just a little slicker on his forehead as he makes his way over to the next egg. He hesitates a moment before brushing his fingertips down over Sweeping the Competition Egg, lightly.

Swish. A sound that seems to come from behind, sliding towards you, through you, scrubbing your mind to make everything slide that much more perfectly into place. A little more. A little more. A little… there. What touches back curls right into the idea spot, clicking against your thoughts, bumping them out of the way so what is in that egg can settle itself right there instead. Hi.

Rocco jerks in response to the egg he's touching, almost pulling away - but holding back enough to not break the contact just yet. He doesn't linger long though, looking down at the shell as if it's… well, as if he's wary of touching it again. Moving away, he edges past Ashkir and gives the Reachian a quick wink before settling his hand in a delicate touch against the London Calling Egg.

Is this foreign? Is this different? Is this the home away from home? A curl of smoke, maybe of steam, licks across your senses, a little sooty, maybe a little yellow, maybe a little grey, but it licks, easing in like a fog. Mysterious? Familiar? It is a layer of industry upon a layer of something far, far older. An old soul in new clothes.

Ashkir's hand cants and he seems to look around, as if searching for something. Finally he lets his hand drop and considers the caverns again. His arms cross over his waist and he taps at his arms thoughtfully. Rocco gets a quick grin as he passes by and Ashkir looks at the other eggs. Finally he's moving again, this time he heads towards the You'll Never Skate Again! Egg and brushes his fingers against it.

Skating on thin ice here. As fragile as that shell. On the surface, on that first touch there is beauty, serenity, a swirl of sequins and lace and smooth delight. Is it a facade though? CRACK… what was changes to power, deception, a triple axle of blues and pinks that spiral into your senses, chilling with how precise, how planned it was to draw you in and then CRACK. Again. Right to your gut, or lower. What are you made of? Can you take it? Do you want this that much?

This egg just makes Ryssim blink, intrigued. His head turns slightly, as if listening to something, and then he examines the egg with a deeper note of curiosity. He pulls away from the egg slowly, a quiet thoughtful hum escaping him. The Open to Interpretation Egg gets his attention next, his touch still slow and careful.

The cavern may be silent but there is a music here. Rhythmic. It sounds from somewhere else, maybe somewhere exotic, maybe somewhere familiar. But there is music, lyrical and beautiful, perfect in symbolism and artistic in ways that can hardly be quantified. A silken touch, a glossy shine of a sphere, a perfect hoop that circles all, circles your mind.

Pippa comes away from where she is with Jeyth, looking up at momma before looking back to the candidates. "I'm thinking you all have just about touched enough here before she comes to bully you out. So make your last feels here, then we'll be going. You all did real well."

Rocco smiles down at the egg beneath his touch, eyes half-closed in happy contemplation. "I like you," he leans down to murmur softly to its smooth surface, before giving it a delicate little pat and moving on to the Flame On Egg. He's only just pressed his palm to it when Pippa announces the end of the session, and he nods at her to confirm that he's heard, understood, and will follow orders.

FLARE. Sparks. Embers. Glow. This is fire. This is the life and the heat and the light. Orange and red and yellow are typical, the blue is fainter, flickering, tickling the senses with a hint of what is within. The longer the touch, the deeper the singe. Touch too long and you may get burned

Ryssim looks a bit transfixed by this egg, staring at it wide and wondering as his fingers trace across the shell. Pippa's voice cuts into his reverie, and he looks up with a faint touch of colour in his cheeks. "Did well," he echoes half to himself, as he nods at the Weyrwoman's words. "What's doing badly?" As if it will, perhaps, answer his question for him, he turns to Careful of the Current Egg, touching it curiously.

The second there is a touch the rest is white. It rushes at you, splashes into your mind, fills you up from toes to scalp and all of the little places in between that deserve to be drenched. Splash after splash, endless cascades of adventure and excitement, enough to make your heart race, take your breath away, steal it and never give it back 'til you release the touch. Drowning. Taking.

Ashkir winces and quickly drops his hand to grip at his head. The candidate pauses, holding his head between his hands and massaging at his temples, he peeksup to glance at the weyrwoman when she speaks. There's slow movement from the candidate, as if trying to collect himself together. "I think I'll stop here, I feel a headache coming on." He ambles away from the eggs and massages at his temples.

Rocco pulls his hand back from the egg he's touching quickly, shaking it out as if he's touched something hot. That's the end of his touching, and he backs up to join Ashkir, hovering by the candidate's side. "Thank you for letting us out here, weyrwoman Pippa, Jeyth." He's got a polite bob of his head for the two, and then waits to be dismissed.

Ryssim gasps, but it is not the happy kind that the first egg prompted from him. It sounds a little strangled, a little short of air, his face somewhat too pale beneath its smattering of freckles. The breaths he draws in afterwards are slightly struggling and slightly panicked, until he jerks his hand away from the egg with a relieved expression. He eyes it warily, backing away from the clutch. "Yes," he says, still a little breathlessly, "thank you. Both of you." He joins the candidates, shifting a little awkwardly on the hot sands.

Pippa's smile curves the slightest as she looks from one candidate to the next. Her gaze lifts though, moving to look at Jeyth, offering her 'mate a wink. "Looks like your kids, once more, are leaving them a little struck there." It is with a chuckle that the woman moves away, arms extending out to either side as if in a herding gesture. There is a lick of her lips, then she is looking to Ashkir, "Buck up, candidate. Headache is the least of your worries when all is said and done. Bit more will be aching before you finally get to see these things hatch." The woman flashes a broad smile to Rocco, her head inclining the slightest. But her eyes fall back on Ryssim, "You accorded yourself well out there, kid. I'm of half of a mind here to make you an official candidate. Those eggs there interest you any?" Oh yes, it is a secretive, if self-satisfied grin that she has.

Ashkir closes his eyes and continues to hold his head between his fingers, seeming to take a moment to himself. When he hears Rocco pad over, he cracks an eye to peer at the other candidate, and then his attention is going back to the weyrwoman and he lets his arms fall to his sides. "Thanks for letting us touch the eggs." However, his curiosity goes towards Ryssim, blinking as the weyrwoman asks him to be a candidate. "I'm alright, just…it was a little too much, I think." He finally mumbles to the weyrwoman.

Curiosity has Rocco's light blue gaze travelling over to Ryssim, his head canted slightly to one side. "That sounds like a pretty sweet offer, y'know. It's not /half/ as bad as what it could be." He winks at the Smith, then grins over at Pippa. Ashkir's given a gentle nudge - one that's wary of the way the lad looks a bit… iffy.

It seems that Ryssim is not getting a break from his wide-eyed surprise; he turns that look on the Weyrwoman again, hugging the sketchpad that he still clutches just a bit tighter. "Really? I mean, I could — be a —" He glances between the other two candidates. "The eggs /are/ really very interesting," he says slowly. "I mean, I think that would be — really — thank you. Really great." He ducks his head, cheek tinging a little pink again. "But I don't know how to build fences," he confides.

Pippa slants a look across at Ashkir, but it isn't sympathetic. Oh no, it is far more amused than anything else. The kid is lucky she doesn't reach out to give him a good ol' chuck on the shoulder. Her eyes move away though, grinning some more at Rocco's words, then the woman is focused back on Ryssim, "Aye, you could. We'll even let you touch T'ab. Imagine all the perks of that." *cough* "Ah, I'll give you another project if you come along with me. You know anything about getting rid of bugs?"

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