Hatching 39


HT - Wednesday, December 28, 2005, 12:21 PM

D'baji doesn't even knock this time; he's crashing right on into the barracks with no regard for privacy, and noregard for greetings, bellowing, "Dragons are humming guys! Get your robes on, NOW!"

Ryran is lying on his cot, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to catch a few zzz's before ambling off to kitchenduty. Hey, at this stage in the game, you learn to take a nap whenever you can. So, that's what Ry is trying to do.. that is, until a rider crashes into the barracks and starts yelling. "Robe? What?" Blink. Ok, time to get up /now/.

Faulk is, as oft, on his cot and turned toward the wall. And, upon the bellowing, flips onto his back and regards

D'baji with apparent lack of comprehension. "What?"

Aisling blinks towards the intrusion, one moment, two, three. Then she's moving with no regard for decency, herclothing are coming off even as she moves towards the trunk to pull out her robe.

Relyssa is catching a catnap when D'baji bursts in, and sits up suddenly. "Huh?" She rolls over a second later,managing to roll right off her cot and land on the floor… gracefully. Nevermind that. Jumping up, the redheadsnatches her robe and yanks it on over her clothes. Yet, she somehow manages to get out of said clothes whilewearing the robe. Odd.

Syke gets up from his cot and moves towards his robe mechanically. Something in the set of his shoulders, or theglaze in his eyes suggests he may not quite believe what is happening.

Rivellis launches off of his cot at D'baji's entrance and studies the Weyrling Master for a moment, just to be sure itactually was time. Turning about, the young man begins digging through his things in search of his robe. Pulling it

out, the poorly made robe is scowled at before it is thrown on. Oh yes, sandals now. Mustn't forget those!

Talara sits on the floor next to her cot, calmly braiding her hair when she can't help but hear D'baji's yell. Could

anyone? She jumps and jerks her head up. "What? Now?!" Uh oh. Panic! She jumps up, leaving one strand of

hair half unbraided, rushing to find her robe. This sort of situation always seems to happen when you least expect it

doesn't it.

The walls. The walls are beginning to rumble. Very delicately, mind you, but there's certainly a feeling of urgency

and, possibly, earthquake. Or hatching. If you listen very carefully, you can hear a faint drum-like thrumming inthe distance.

Aylara is sitting in her cot as well. But as they are stormed in on she's up and changing in a flurry. Excitement wellsup in her chest, so much she's amost suffocating as she hurries to comply. Jewelry is stripped off, hair is let down,and as Aisling seems to be doing, clothes are stripped immediately.

Corona is, as usual, writing in her precious book. She fairly drops said item when D'baji bursts in, jumping halfwayoff her cot at the shouting. You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now, but no. She emits some sort ofquestioning sound before her eyes go frantically wide. She stumbles away from the cot, actually dropping the book

toquickly remove her clothes and get her robe and sandals on.

Sorcha isn't coming. Her robe and sandals remain in their position - neatly folded atop her trunk. Defiantly, she

crosses her arms. "What, time to be bludgeoned half to death again?" she sulks, glaring at D'baji in a half-

accusatory manner. "Bah, humbug." Still, everyone else seems to be moved to action, and she starts feeling a bitstupid. "Oh.. well.. fine. But if anything heads towards me, Deba, I'm putting -you- between us. No more infirmarystays for me!" Huffing around and making much ado about it all, she changes into her robe and throws her hair intoa low runnertail, just like last time. "Ugh, Faranth knows why I agree to this nonsense."

Neasan starts at the sudden sound, though he quickly stands from his cot and quickly changes. The boy takes deepbreaths, unwilling to let his anticipation and shakiness show as he moves with careful preciseness.
Through observation, Faulk is able to discern that it might be, in fact, useful to get a wee clad. He climbs slowly outof the cot, opens up his crate, shuffles on his robe without fuss. He yawns and scratches the back of his neck.

Syseron sits upright and stares at D'baji like he's speaking another language before he finally starts to move. Hepulls off his shirt and pulls on some white sack thing. Only after the robe covers his waist does he take off his pantsand ties a belt on. His feet are on their way into his sandals as he stands up and continues to look around, lost.

Isabeau flops off her cot and looks at Sorcha, "Suit yourself, stick-in-the-mud… You didn't HAVE to agree tostand, and no one's keeping you here." She pulled on her own robe and sandles and reluctantly pulled off the simple pendant she usually wore tucking it hastily under her pillow, as if that would actually provide any /real/ protection to it. She shuffles herself into her place in line.

Ryran stands up now and grabs his robe while trying to undress at the same time. Shirt is flung off, robe is pulled over his head and then the trous are removed. Sandals are then grabbed and he tugs them on before scrambling towards the rider. Ry's ready and sweating bullets.

D'baji manages to hear Sorcha, somehow, through all the hustle and bustle and whatnot. "Y'oughta've learned to dodge by now," is smirked. And then he's back into authority mode, waving his arm towards the door. "Come on, come on, we're going out onto the Sands now!" And… let's go.

Aisling shoves the robe on over her head, letting it untangle herself as she walks. The sandals also get put on as she walks, one, then the other, but as she shoves the other one, one half of the strap breaks off from the sole, leaving her to be clinging to the other half of the strap with her toes as she walks.

Syke quickly discards his every day clothes and shrugs himself into his carefully sewn robe. Then looking towards the rider he awaits for his turn to march out onto the sands

Hatching Grounds Entrance
The imposing height of this tunnel is a mere shadow of the cavern beyond. Worn smooth by time and touch, the walls and floor reflect turns of passage by candidate and observer alike, dusted gently by a smattering of coarse black sand; heat and excitement are palpable here as well, cooled somewhat by the breeze that filters in from the bowl. Broad, shallow stairs sweep up to the galleries for more general observation, while a broad, lower tunnel leads towards the sands themselves.

Hatching Grounds BROADCASTING
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 no even perceived respite. When empty, the vault of this cavern is hushed, still that echoes and rebounds; when occupied, it is intensified. Currently the sands are filled with the visions of Ryazusith's offspring (more commonly referred to as eggs). The echoes bounce and multiply, giving life to this heated environment.

The atmosphere of the Sands changes; the sense of expectancy is tangible. Suddenly, they appear - The Candidates, each displaying a different attitude about the event ahead, file neatly out onto the black sand. Some hold hands, others walk alone. They come to a slow, unorganized halt a few feet from the entrance, some stumbling into others as the ones ahead stop short. Then, in a single motion, they bow politely to the clutchparents and their riders. Some, like Syseron, are awkward in their anxiety; some seem well-practiced and almost bored. It can be said, though, that everyone has remembered to bow - Even Corona.

Mirror of the Moon Egg jiggles lazily, not quite ready to commit to anything too strenuous just yet.

The Imprisoned Wolf Egg gives a shudder, rocking enough to widen the imprint it's made in the Sands.

Sorcha steps out of the loose bow formation, one of the first to strike out away from the main group. There's a touch

of panic in her eyes, much like the others, and she seeks to calm herself by looking for familiar faces - Minka, of course.. D'baji, right there with the other Candidates, and.. A familiar rumble reaches her ears, and its relaxing effect is visible. She turns to see Azmaioth watching, and then quickly finds R'yn, who receives a nervous grin. That done, she settles in beside Siren and a few friends, watching the eggs carefully.

Paths and Crossroads Egg just kinda stays there. Still and silent, paitently awaiting it's turn in the limelight.

Cheyanna looks tense and unhappy as she walks onto the sands. She gives her standard deep bow to gold and bronze, then circles uneasily towards the eggs. She doesn't seem inclined to cling especially to any of the other candidates; mostly her eyes turn to the galleries, seeking the possible comfort of familiar faces.

Ryran finishes bowing with the group and feels the sweat droplets running down the sides of his face. He's about ready to have a melt down, so, he prods the first person he sees, which happens to be Corona. "Need some company?" Eh heh. /He/ needs some company.

Syseron stands up from his bow, his eyes falling from the clutch parents to the eggs, a determined look on his face.

He steps forward curiously, eyeing the other candidates and trying to stay upright as a shuffling bunch of clinging girls bumps into him. "We… should probably spread out a little bit, you know…" He mutters quietly at the girls and follows Sorcha's lead away from the crowd a little. He turns back and looks to see what Avery is doing.

Tane Mahuta Egg gives one solid rock before going back into dormancy.

The Imprisoned Wolf Egg pitches forward, the red of the shell flashing out ominously as a large crack finally splits the darkness. Heralded by a draconic howl, an angular grayish nose emerges from the depths of the egg. The dragonet's sinewy, ill-proportioned body slides almost frantically from the remains of the egg, a whip of the stubby tail flinging the last shards to the side.

Raider of the Lost Swamp Green Dragonet
Dimmed shades of grey and green leach and ooze across her sinewy, muscle-clumped frame. Headknobs tinged with a dirt-frosted blues squash onto a sharply angular head. A short, wide neck, highlighted with irregular swipes of pallid yellow and somewhat darker greens, leads into strong, bulky, verdant-pocked shoulders. Grey-tipped talon taper off of grass-stained too-short limbs, which in turn are sharply juxtaposed with a much elongated body. Short, blocky wings, brushed at the joints with splashes of fetid crimson, look less than flight-worthy, an effect worsened by

the jaundiced glow of the wingsails. Hints of faded cerulean seep into oily pools of sickly yellow-green along

rectangular 'ridges along her back. A giant splotch of noxious yellow swamp gas ends a stubby tail that looks to have

been pushed forward on her body, giving the appearance of a slightly hunched back, and a slightly round, and

misplaced, underbelly.

Aisling hobbles carefully on her broken sandal, trying to make sure it stays between her and the hot sands. She

finds a small opening between two candidates and gently elbows her way in so she can have a view of the eggs.

Aylara sighs as her stomach gives a nervous rumble. Her eyes dart to the clutch, then to the clutch parents, then to

those around her. The room seems to spin without spinning and all of a sudden, after the weeks and weeks of

candidacy, she feels nervous. So nervous in fact, that she feels slightly ill. But she forces her wayward body into line

and watches as the first eggs begin to wiggle. She's captivated by the sight, but she tears her eyes away to search

for someone, a certain trader. She doesn't seem to find Apholone, so she looks back to the eggs, standing slightly


Faulk is one of those standing alone, arms partially folded, eyes directed at the eggs with apparent boredom, only a

slight twitch in his heels betraying any nervousness. Or perhaps, that's heat. When the dragonet bursts out,

though, he pays his respects by taking a swift step backward.

Talara grins as she walks out onto the sands, glancing first at the eggs and then towards the galleries. She wants to

try and find people she may know up there, but there's so many faces, and the eggs just that more interesting at

the moment, she doesn't take enough time to spot anyone out. Instead she turns around to catch sight of fellow


Corona straightens from her bow to bounce from foot to foot. For once, it's not out of excitement but rather from the

heat. She's too scared to be excited, now that the big day is here. Her eyes are wide as she stares all about her,

from dragon mother to dragon father, even at the crowd gathering behind them. "Yes, Ryran, I'm scared," she

states, grabbing the man's hand and clinging desperately to it.

Rivellis rises from his bow and allows his eyes to fall instantly on the eggs. Well, this is it! A hand reaches up to

wipe away a bit of sweat from the candidates brow as a glance is shot towards his fellow candidates. "Shards, I

can't stop shaking!" Arms are held out in front of him so as to prove his point to anyone who actually cares.

Ryran eyes the eggs around him and can't seem to slow his pulse one bit. In fact, he practically goes into a heap

when one of the eggs actually hatches and out pops a green dragonet. Corona's hand is squeezed and he points to

it. "Look!"

"They're always /so/ nervous. Kinda funny, ain' it?" N'ano asides to whatever riders are within earshot as he stands

towards the back, rubbing at his chin contemplatively. "You'd think with /all/ of the practice they've gotten, they'd be

calm as cucumbers by now!" As if. "Corona! Stand up straight, girl!" Really, it was encouragement. And to Ryran,

he shouts out "Bring one home, boy! Not that green though!" He's not prejudice, no.

Neasan has barely had time to bow before the Imprisoned Wolf Egg, one he was positive would hatch bronze,

hatches… And the thing within is green. He stares in surprise for a moment before huhing softly. "I was /sure/ there

was a bronze in that egg. There's a sixteenth gone." Then he shrugs a bit, glancing at Rivellis to see how the boy

reacts to the hatching of the 'evil' egg. "Going to be a major handful for whoever gets her." His eyes immediately

flick back to the hatchling to see who the 'lucky' person might be, all the while shifting his weight and trying to cover

his own nervousness.

Sapha watches curiously. Swaying from foot to foot in the heat of the sands. He doesn't join in the speculation, but

rather waits with the same set of his shoulder, and the same glaze in his eyes.

Relyssa gulps as she straightens from her bow, looking over the clutch. She purses her lips together, determination

masking the gut-wrenching fear and anxiety she's feeling. A drop of sweat rolls down her spine, sending a shudder

through her body. The redhead blinks and glances around at her fellow candidates before stepping away a bit— right

into another candidate. Mumbling her apologies, the girl frowns in the direction of the clutch. Cursing her short

stature, she stands up on her toes in an effort to see over some tall person's shoulder.

Cheyanna's arms fold tightly and defensively across her chest as she edges sideways, semicircling away from the

others to leave more room. As Syseron edges vaguely near her, she offers him a tight, uneasy smile. And then, in a

row near the front of the galleries, she spots a familiar face. Her expression brightens instantly, and she lifts a

hand in a wave — that attention is swiftly knocked away by the arrival of the first dragonet. She swallows, stands

her ground.

D'baji, off on the sidelines, waiting to haul off the newly-Impressed, promptly smacks himself on the forehead with

an open hand. "Good," is murmured to any AWLMs within earshot. "'Ver's daughter is hideous."

Minka is proudly stationed at the edge of the sands, watching, and returning her own nod to each candidate as

they troop past. She leans against a foreleg of Ryazusith, arm hung loosely across the offered support. She grins as

the first egg hatches, patting the queen's hide with excitement, "Look, a healthy.. green!" Healthy, if not pretty.

Well, perhaps in time. Minka focuses now, seeking out familiar candidates, and certain friends. She finds Sor,

shooting the girl a reassuring grin.

Sorcha jumps in fright as a green appears - after all, it was green Laith who caused all the trouble last time. Her

eyes flicker nervously up at R'yn, and she's reassured by his presence once again. Her chin lifts slightly, and she

takes a step closer to Siren and the other candidates. "Ooh, what a little mutant," she says with a giggle. "Like one

of those canines, you know - so ugly, it's cute? Wonder if they're all gonna be like that."

Corona is standing close to straight, though she has pulled Ryran's entire arm to her chest and wrapped both arms

around as she moves closer to her almost brother. She peeks over her shoulder at N'ano's words, before shaking her

head quickly, fearfully at the green. "No, I can't ride green!" She tells Ry, attempting to hide herself behind him

without giving up his arm.

Avery clings to the last bastion of sanity in the suddenly narrowed perspective of hot sands, nervous candidates, and

rocking eggs. Her fingers clasped in the comforting embrace of a friend's hand, she rocks from foot to foot. She

takes a deep breath, taking her nerves in hand, and looks up at Syseron to gauge his reaction.

Rogue's Courage Egg shimmers golden and tangerine, offsetting and overpowering the obsidian. The shakes that

have overpowered it grow ever more violent until a muzzle pokes itself through the reddest part of the orb and the

shell explodes, sending shards left and right and abandoning Knight of the Rose Blue Dragonet within this world.

Knight of the Rose Blue Dragonet
Murky eddies of turquoise swirl along the skeletal thinness of this young dragon, twisting and winding midst grays

and tans as if his hide were marked by the waters of a desert pool and then bleached under a midday sun. Bluer

sky reflections sweep from unusually pale oculars to the expanse of a staunch neck, only to give way to a sunworn

cadet blue at the apex of shoulders, and across oddly creased-looking wings. This faded hue drifts along a slim back,

touching every well-formed 'ridge, only to be reclaimed by sandy tides along his sides and stomach. Emaciated ribs

emulate submerged driftwood, seeming ready to poke from the hide at any moment. There isn't an ounce of

bulkiness on this blue; he looks as if his entire body has been honed to nothing but the essentials. Even the largeness

of his seemingly dust-spattered paws do nothing to detract from his overall thinness, their mismatched size itself

somehow fitting, as is the length of his formidable whiplash tail.

Aylara is quite literally shocked when her favorite egg spits out a green. She has to smile though, the green is lovely.

Though, not her coice. She can't help but feel sorry for the green, whom everyone seems to hate, and it shows on

her face. Didn't anyone around here know what the word compassion meant? She gives a slight encouraging sound

towards the green and nods a congrads to Ryazusith.

Ryran can hear N'ano's voice in the distance, which seems to bring him comfort.. slightly. In fact, it causes him to

take a deep breath to try and focus a little better at what exactly is going on. He can practically feel the eyes on

him as he looks up at the crowds for a moment before returning his gaze to the eggs around him. "Faranth, it's hot

." Corona is then nudged a little. "Stay with me, girl. You need to catch me if I faint." Wink. "Try to relax.."

Easier said than done, yes. Oy.

Raider of the Lost Swamp Green Dragonet knows what it is she wants, and is immediately lurching towards a pair

of female candidates. The awkward movements across the Sands come off to be almost a swagger.

Syseron tears his eyes away from the green and looks over at Rivellis, chuckling to himself. "Well, it happens to the

best of us." He scratches the back of his neck for a moment and turns his gaze back to the green. "Careful or you'll

wave your arms around enough to call the green over to you." Chey is nodded to before he exhales and relaxes a

little. When he looks over at Avery once more, he smiles a little. "It'll be ok, Ave. Just relax and try not to let your

feet burn."

Talara stops in her tracks as the first egg hatches and she lets out a gasp. She turn to Rivellis at his comment and

grins. "I know. Kinda scary to be back isn't it?" Nope, no snide remarks here. She looks back towards the green

hatchling, and smiles widely. "First one!" Duh. Then as another egg hatches she jerks her head around and

towards the blue, but gets distracted as the green goes on the move.

Lzi definitely wasn't expecting to get dragged onto the sands to help out, but there she is nonetheless. Even if being

on the sands is definitely bringing back old memories, she has to maintain her grouchy exterior. Well, except for a

wink she shoots to Ryran for reasons only those could know about before arms are crossed, looking over the batch of

eggs and hatching dragonets. "Ugly bunch," she mutters mainly to herself, eyes narrowing.

Siren moves closer to Sorcha, snorting somewhat distainfully. "That one there makes even Cadge look pretty. Or,

like, normal." Palms are wiped against the fabric of her robe, and she shifts her weight from first the right foot, to

the left.

Faulk flicks his eyes to the side, and to the other side, and takes another step back. Then, flick, flick, another step

back. On the third flick, his eyes rest on Cheyanna for one heartbeat and flick away again. To the green. Who is

going in another direction. Nonetheless, one more step back.

Imperial Book of Etiquette Egg lingers in the background, shuddering and creaking, a scattered series of wiggles


Syke shakes his head, the reality of his situation finally becoming apparent. With a small squeek he heads off

towards a bunch of girls. "Mind if I tag along?" He asks of Siren and Sorcha

Raider of the Lost Swamp Green Dragonet's short legs move in double-time as she confidently hurdles her way

across the remaining distance between herself and her chosen companion. A sharp bark to ensure she has her

candidate's attention announces her arrival at the young woman's side, where she gazes challengingly into Siren's


Rivellis takes a single, involuntary step back as yet another dragonet hatches. "I think you'd be good on that green

Talara. Since you're so ugly and all." A mocking glance is shot at his fellow candidate before he turns back to the

action on the sands. "Blue and green? Shards, there goes a half mark!"

Knight of the Rose Blue Dragonet looks around, shaking shell fragments from an angular muzzle. He is not daunted

by the sea of white through which he must make his way. With a stirring of paws, he sets out on his life's journey.

Neasan is far too brave to cling to anyone, but still, he wouldn't mind having someone to talk to, as the dragons

hatch. The boy shifts somewhat, moving closer to Rivellis to offer more of his weyrbrat wisdom. He keeps half an

eye on the green, mostly to make sure she's not coming to him. As the dragonet pauses before Siren, he lets out a

sigh of relief, devoting his attention to the blue instead. If he's going to Impress anything, it'll be blue for sure.

Sorcha is about to respond, but suddenly the green is upon them and Siren's.. what? "/That's/ your dragon? I

should've called it!" she squeals happily, throwing an arm around her pal's shoulders and giving a quick squeeze

before backing away, giving her some breathing room. "Shards. S'pose I owe D'baji a mark or two, now. And I was

gonna buy myself a wine skein after all this, too.." Mumbling to herself, she looks for someone else to buddy up with.

Gotta have someone to put between her and those psychotic hatchlings, after all.

Relyssa looks around once more, her frown increasing as she looks over as Siren Impresses the green. Momentarily

forgetting the anxiety that's made her palms sweaty even as her fingers are cold as ice, she grins and almost

bounces before going back to trying to see over the taller candidates. She shifts about, trying to find a group of

smaller people she can see over.

Mirror of the Moon Egg shudders a bit, as if fighting some internal urge, but fails - quakes taking hold of it's surface.
Methodically, a small bronze dragonet emerges from the Winged Serpent Egg after sending bits and pieces of

shrapnel egg shards in every direction. A quick shiver through his body discards the remaining debris before he

takes a hesitant step in the direction of a couple of females. Helloooooo nurse! …nurses? Hi. Okay, he's starving.

They won't do. As if on a dime, the bronze spins, heading in the opposite direction towards one lone boy; a curly,

black-haired boy from Igen Hold. In sync, the young boy kneels down, hands outstretched towards the dragonet

who steps up towards him, crooning with each nuzzle offered. "Animaniath! I knew it! I knew you were there!" Alas,

an impression has been made and Mc'doo is Perns newest bronzerider.

Siren stares, dubiously, into the green's eyes. And, then, not so dubiously: "Fugly dr— Iqiazath! Her name is

Iqiazath!" She stumbles forward, hands outstretched — and then withdrawn. "Gawds, you're ugly. C'mon, let's go

get you some food."

Tane Mahuta Egg wakes up and starts to shake with a little more force now than just a mere wiggle. It's rocking

forcibly from side to side, determined.

Aisling shifts the one foot, then leaving her sandal on the ground, shifts the other before quickly setting it back down

before the shoe gets lost in the shuffle. Momentarily she borrows the elbow next to her for balance before quickly

retracting it back to her sides.

Talara shoots a glare at Rivellis but quickly loses it since well, there's a lot more interesting things going on than

dealing with him. Like, oh, maybe dragonets? She takes a deep breath in order to calm her annoyance as well as

nerves. They're everywhere! She turns her head around to catch sight of the green just as Siren impresses. "Look

Riv! Siren impressed!" She points, grinning gleefully.

Oh, blast. Now there's more of them, which makes it harder to guard against all of them. Cheyanna's eyes are

flickering back and forth between them, shoulders rigid. When the green Impresses to Siren, she flinches

involuntarily, then looks back at the blue, her fingers twitching with nervous energy. Her gaze flickers to Faulk, and

she — lo and behold — sidles over towards him uneasily. "Are you hoping to Impress, not to Impress, or to be killed

by one of them?" she asks in a mutter, tone acerb.

Knight of the Rose Blue Dragonet has made it to the far side of the sands by now. His eyes, oddly pale, raise to

appraise the folks in the stands. No. No good. His is not there. Not on the sands either, by the look of it… or

maybe. Maybe. Yes. There. Turning in a fluid movement, the young blue stalks back in the direction he came.

Ryran blinks a few times when he actually witnesses Siren Impress the green hatchling. This causes him to cheer

before a twitching egg close by startles him causes him to shriek like a girl. That is, until he quickly regains his

composure and clears his throat. No one heard that. "Hey, look.. a bronze and a blue." Ahem.

Corona may not like Siren much, but things are better since they've been in candidacy together. At the very least,

she pulls just far enough away from Ryran's arm to bounce up and down and hollar, "CONGRATS SIREN!!" Ok,

so the excitement has momentarily broken through the freight, which is a good sign. It allows her to back off of

Ryran a little, as she watches the blue to see where he goes and who is next.

Ah-Puch Egg twitches, all but imperceptibly, and then stills, fading into the background.

Syke blinks as impression occurs bare feet away from his location. "Woah." He mumbles before wincing. That's

one ugly green dragonet.

"There goes a great mind. Ruined. Absolutely ruined," Faulk sighs in Siren's direction as she goes and gets herself

all bonded. And, hello, what is this? Faulk sidesteps more out of surprise than aversion to Cheyanna's all being

there. He clears his throat and sidesteps back. Didn't move at all, here. "I'm really not sure. You?"

Aylara is lightheaded with all the excitement as her stomach turns when two have impressed. She's overwhelmed

with joy for them and lets it be known with a cheer or two. But then as if hypnotized her eyes are right back on the

sands. She has her fingers crossed and everything. Though she does idle a little more towards the group of people.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to. She idles very close to Riv and Syseron.

Mirror of the Moon Egg jingles slightly, and tips awkwardly to one side, movement fluttering within a dark shadow

casting itself against the walls of silvered pattern. All of a sudden, it falls into silence. Lines begin to crack across its

form like storm frenzied lightening, jagged edges traveling with alarming speed through to meet at its very base.

The pieces hang together momentarily as if stuck by some invisible force, then shatter into the air with a series of

audible snaps. Reserved, and unhurried, The Pretty Soldier Green Dragonet unfurls from her slumber and

emerges into the world.

The Pretty Soldier Green Dragonet
Midnights light casts itself atop this greens rounded hide, curling in frost-blown beams to cup chubby cheekbones,

descending into a muzzle of ivy-concealment. Head knobs exist in an unusual round shape, yellowed in lime

encirclement. Shattered rays of the moon refract and are sent forth, falling like shooting stars over a backdrop of

viridian. Lighter patches of wind-whisked olive dart amongst a wash of woodland, falling to snow-worshipped drifts

that coat pudgy forelegs. The same shaft of light falls across her torso and descends into verdant underbelly,

returning once more to forest stirrings and mottled by the chance fall of luminous leaves. Her tail winds in a final

salute of jade, a faint stir of starlit kisses sprinkled atop her hide, dissipating once more into a silvered tail-tip.

Isabeau reaches where her pendant normally hangs to fiddle with it, and drops her hadn again remembering it's

not ther. She clasps her hands behind her back for the moment looks to Neasan, "Don't worry about the bet… just

yet. I'm sure yo've got more comming…" She nodded to the hatchlings.

D'baji moves to meet Siren- err, Sin- and Iqiazath, ushering them a ways before handing them off to L'nin and the

awaiting slabs of meat. And then Deb's back, with a quick check to make sure Sorcha's still intact before his

attention drifts towards the newly-hatched, and, "Not so ugly," dragonets.

Neasan smiles faintly as the first dragon Impresses. "Congradulations, Siren," he calls, shifting his weight from one

foot to the other. He gives a little shrug to Isabeau, "I thought that one was bronze, I really did." His eyes glance

over the rest of the candidates, as if trying to work out which one might be next, while waiting to see where the blue

will go. "Another green," he murmurs with the most recent hatching.

Cheyanna casts a dark look sidelong at Faulk, then says, "Well, I'm rooting for no fatalities," she says. "I… dunno."

She shifts nervously, her eyes tracking the dragons, plucks at her robe (sticking with sweat to her torso), and says,

"If one of them runs at you, I'm moving away fast." Friendly warning.

Rivellis glances down a bit to find none other than Neasan! "Where'd you ceom from kid? I thought you were…

somewhere else! Talk to Talara or something, since you think she's cute and all." A glance is sent in Sin's direction

as she impresses her green. Another lost mark! Boy, someone wasn't doing too well on the betting game thus far!

Avery smiles up at Syseron, one foot shuffling through the sand despite the heat. She gives his hand a squeeze,

then peers out across the uneven grounds. "I'm okay."

Knight of the Rose Blue Dragonet slides over the sands with effortless grace, his unusual eyes trained on a certain

dark-haired lad. Yes. Yes, he will do. Letting out a quiet, joyful croon, he stands at full height and raises his wings

behind him in elegant greeting. His quest will never end, but at least he's found a soulmate to share it with: Syke.

Relyssa sidles up to Rivellis and gives him an elbow in the ribs and a dazzling smile after glancing at the dragonets.

"How're you doing in the betting so far, Riv?"

Tane Mahuta Egg gives one good rock and a crack forms in its shell, splintering more and more with every shake. It

won't be long now.

Syke is suddenly lost in the eyes of the blue dragonet at his side. Finally remembering to breathe he exhales "

Saikath" He chokes. "He says his name is Saikath!" is said more confidently by Ista's newest dragonrider.

"What? You're not going to lay down your life for me?" Faulk splays his fingers, palms up, his shoulders turned

slightly outward. "Oh. Hello, another one — another one lost." Another sigh. "Will any of us walk out with our

minds our ooown, I wonder?"

Aylara sidles closer to Rivellis more than anything and tilts her head towards him. "Two greens and a blue so far,

what do you think will come out next?" Her nerves are all in her voice as she stares at the clutch, hoping her

lifemate is there…somewhere. She sighs and idles from foot to foot, nodding a silent hello to Neasan.

Ryran doesn't show much emotion while standing next to Corona and trys to remain like a rock for her. Inside,

he's about ready to go into a pile. After a few deep breaths, he manages to focus on the dragonets around him. "

Another green." Point. "See?" he asks Corona. Ooh, another Impression. "Way to go, Syke!"

Talara watches Siren be led off the sands, almost in a trance before she turns towards Rivellis, raising an eyebrow

at him. "You just don't stop /do/ you Riv?" Grr. Her eyes are drawn first by Syke's impressionwhich gets a grin

and then by another green. Oh, pretty! She grins and nudges Rivellis. "Hey, an improvement from Siren's ya

think?" She giggles.

Syseron raises an eyebrow when Siren insults her dragon and gets escorted off the sands. "Well, that works." He

settles back into a stoic state and watches the blue and the new green begin wandering. He nods at Avery and

looks back to Faulk and Cheyanna. Sometimes, the candidates really are more interesting to watch. "Oy!

Congrats, Syke!" He speaks up and actually shouts his congrats to the new bluerider.

The Pretty Soldier Green Dragonet lies unceremoniously upon the ground, staring up at her surrounding with a

heavy-lidded gaze. A muted creel follows, and she shifts to her belly, casting a wandering, and somewhat wide-eyed

look about the sands, instantly locking onto the white-clad creatures. Tilting a bit, chubby body is hoisted from the

ground. Adjusting to her new lease in movement, the green tests the sand slightly, pawing it - then briskly shaking

her body to let loose the sand already caked upon her glistening hide.

Corona is now bouncing rather consistently, between the heart of the sands and her happiness. "Sykeeee!" She

screeches, likely breaking her hatching-partner's eardrums. "He got a blue, Ryran!" She squeezes his arm in a hug

of delight, finding it easier and easier to forget her fears as her friends Impress. "I don't want green and you don't

either, right, Ry? So we've got to run away if she comes over here."

"If I were a dragonet and felt that from you, I might just charge on principle," Cheyanna mutters at Faulk, not fully

joking. "You should have just gone home. Maybe I should, too." She shifts back a step as a dragon moves in a line

just slightly closer than perpendicular to her; her nerves are showing.

Aisling winces as her feet slowly cook, one would think with all the time they spent out here their feet might, just

might be used to this by now, but no, it's always the same baking on the sands. "What color do you think will hatch

next?" idle conversation with her neighbor.

Tane Mahuta Egg begins to disintegrate with every single shake, the slivers in its shell becoming deeper and longer,

pulsing vehemently. A fissure appears near the apex, a small snout poking its way out, smelling out the new world.

Soon enough, Heart of the Desert Brown Dragonet pushes the rest of its head and whole body out of its warm

home, stretching languidly with a low croon. Egg pieces stuck to his body aren't bothered with at the moment, since

he has something more important on his mind: FOOD!

Heart of the Desert Brown Dragonet
Gusting from sulphur tipped eyeridges to rust laden tail, unrelenting ochre dusts his length with a pervasive

tenacity. Inescapable, the fierce brilliance of his hide only dims in the midnight iridescence of his redoubtable talons.

He is wrought by harsh and unforgiving angles as sharp as his coloration, unusual in scope and surprisingly

prominent. From the dune-like expanse of his spine, spiky bleached ridges create a distinctive silhouette against the

sunset sails and skeletal spars of his wings. Spitfire eyes nestle darkly with in a craggy face, shadowed in umber as

if etched by the wind itself.

Sorcha shifts from foot to foot, alone now on the sands. Eggs crack left and right, and the excitement is almost

numbing. Curiously, she turns to look at Minka, looking for some sort of reassurance, though the poor goldrider is

probably swamped in Ryazusith's maternal gushings. "Brown," she murmurs, keeping mental tally. "I'm up two

marks, at least." No dragonet, but two marks. She can live with that. For now.

Ah-Puch Egg gives a more confident wriggle, rolling a little ways down the mini-dune upon which it'd been sitting.

"Let them charge. I will prove my bravery by standing my ground," Faulk scoffs and flips his hand out. "I'm not

actually worried. I live one day at a time, one moment at a time — but if you're concerned, we can go walk off the

sands right now, can't we?"

Ryran grins at Corona and nods. "Alright, we'll run over there is that green comes near us." Snicker. Yeah, and

he'd actually do it, too. Don't put it past him. The brown dragonet is eyed once it's hatched and he heaves a sigh.

"I need some water or something." Eh, it'll have to wait.. like, a long time.

Aylara jumps as her heart leaps at the sight of the little brown that's just hatched. She involuntarily takes a step

forward towards the little dragonette, her arms reaching out as if to hug it from afar. "come on little one…." She

murmers, very softly though. Her dream dragon is before her. But she chastises herself for hoping too much. She

has no choice in this. She smiles and looks at it and the other eggs. She feels dizzy, things are happening aso fast,

but her eyes remain locked on the little brown.

"Hah," Cheyanna says. She glances around the sands, then back at Faulk, uncertain. "If I said, 'Let's', what

would you actually do?" As an egg nearer to them shivers, she tenses again, but refrains from actually stepping


Mother of the Depths Egg really begins to rock now, as if an approching squall is slapping up against it's sides.

Neasan shrugs his shoulders at Rivellis, nodding back to Aylara. It's getting rather crowded over here, making it

difficult for Neasan to see. The boy moves away again, casually getting closer to Isabeau. "A green and a brown.

Any guesses who they're for?" The boy is watching his egg, since the Ah-Puch seems to be doing more moving than

not. If his dragon is here, it's inside that egg, he's positive.

Avery studies each hatchling as he or she emerges. Though her opinions are kept close, she emits mild — perhaps

even eager — curiosity with each hatching. One of those could be hers.

Jia's whole purpose on the sands is to make sure that the candidates can't just 'walk off'. In fact, a pair of holdbred

girls edge towards the door with, quite obviously, this very thought in mind: only to be met with folded arms and a

stern gaze by a bluerider who's still upset about her "promotion". Sharded having to feed the dragons, oil the

dragons, clean up after the dragons… sharded knot. "Pardon me, ladies," she remarks politely, attempting a smile.

"I don't get to leave: you don't either."

"Run. I'd even go first. I wouldn't make /you/ make the dash of faith," Faulk says lightly. "But somehow, I think

that fleeing the sands would be a tradition if it was, y'know, allowed." He glances at the door. "That girl guarding

the door is kind of hot, though."

Talara's getting a head rush or something, because whoa, so many eggs hatching and oh so quickly. She wipes her

forehead off quickly with her sleeve, or tries to anyway, they're a little short for that. "Shells, forgot how hot it can

get out here," she mutters to those closest to her. Namely Rivellis and Neasan. "Guesses?" she inquires, turning her

head to Neasan. "Uh…" Maybe she would if her mind wasn't so blank at the moment. "Dunno." She glances

between the current hatchlings, shifting her feet in the sand. It's getting hot alright.

From within the depths of the Lord of Destruction Egg, a small blue appears, fragile looking from the start. Wings

won't cooperate in keeping him balanced, and legs seem asleep from the time spent cramped up in his former niche.

Silently, he remains still, save for his slowly turning head as he observes the othersclutchmates, candidates and

riders alike. Within seconds, eyes seem to focus on one young girl, barely thirteen turns of age. Their eyes meet and

leisurely, the girl makes her way towards her new lifemate. Legs give way beneath her as she collapses in front of

him, arms clinging around the dragonets form. "Dartmouth… youre so little!" Alyssia squeaks, her mousy voice

barely audible above the gallery crowd and commotion around her.

Corona will have to be dragged by Ryran, since she's not letting go, but probably can't keep up with the older boy. "

I'm thirsty too. It's so hot in here!" Duh, as if she didn't know that was going to be like that. She does a little bit of

dancing, not in the least scared of portraying her emotions. She isn't making any bets on the eggs, but she does

point at the green. "I'll bet she's Neasan's! I think he should ride green." And so she told him, too, despite his strong

distaste for the color.

The Pretty Soldier Green Dragonet is driven, slowly at that, but driven none the less by some internal instinct,

towards the candidates. Her steps are slow, talons scraping the surface of the sand and leaving trails in their wake.

She pauses, tilting her head now and anxiously swapping gaze from group to group, hesitant in heading towards

any group. Though, after a long consideration, she makes a choice and furls drying wings to her midsection,

heading towards a certain section of females with a sluggish pace.

Heart of the Desert Brown Dragonet shakes off the last bit of shell from his head before he takes it upon himself to

look around his new surroundings. So many people. With a playful gleam in his eye, he charges towards one of the

male candidates. After the candidate fails to produce a girly scream, he becomes bored with his little game and

decides to get down to business. Now…who to play with next?

Rivellis takes a moment, no more, to glance at Talara and respond with a, "I don't know," before returning his gaze

to the eggs. Yes, hatching dragons were much more interesting than another candidate! Especially one who

constantly pestered him! "You think there'll be a gold in this clutch? And how many eggs are left?" Hmmm, still


Ryran swallows the lump in his throat as an egg twitches near by. "They sure do have razor sharp talons, eh?" he

says while eyeing the egg. "I don't suppose anyone's ever got mauled in recent hatchings.." Maybe he just shouldn't

bring it up. He's scaring himself more than anything. "Hmm. Dunno. Bet that green'll go to a girl." he says to


Aylara's eyes remain closed on the brown. She giggles at his charge when he chrages the boys and mentally urges

him towards her with muted audible commands. That's her color, her dragon of choice, her dream mate. She

sneaks a peak at the other candidates and sighs before letting her eyes land on the lithe brown once more. She

takes another step towards him, hoping her advances won't be unwanted.

Cheyanna glances over at the door. "Okay," she says of that Jia assessment, her tone very neutral, neither

agreeing or condemning. "I just want this over," she says, tense. Her eyes flick to Faulk, and she asks, awkward:

"Will you miss this at all? If you don't — they're kind of going for young ones this time, aren't they? Other than

Siren, I mean?"

"Yes, that's right," Jia remarks, gray eyes narrowed. "Please turn around and head back to the glorious moment

where you'll find your darling lifemates." Sarcastic much? Doesn't help that Sahruth lost /another/ flight this

morning. Sharded greens. Sharded riders' tempers. As she waxes melanncholic, another candie, this time a young

lad, scootches her way. With a toss of dark curls, the bluerider's head is turned towards him. "Now, now. Don't you

see the magic that awaits you on the sands? get back. /Now/."

Avery watches the pair currently scavenging through the line of white. She gives Syseron's hand a tug and tilts her

chin up to make a quiet observation. "Do you think I'll Impress, Ron?"

D'baji has led Dartmouth and his rider off the Sands, and returns in time to award Jia an amused little grin. "Way

to be," is mentioned to his, uh, minion.

Relyssa seems to be getting ignored, so she goes back to peering at the clutch, and the dragonets that are scurrying

about. Ducking between two tall lads, Relyssa scurries away, making for the front of the crowd, or at least

someplace closer.

"You need to learn aesthetic appreciation, Cheyanna. Even /you/ can learn to appreciate a woman in a purely /

aesthetic/, /theoretical/ way. Come, look—" Faulk breaks off and looks a little more focused on something besides

the sidelines. "Me? Miss what?"

Ah-Puch Egg shakes again, the movements becoming calculated and regular. Back and forth. It's building up to

something magnificent, no doubt.

Corona is getting scared by Ryran's words too. "I think Sorcha got hurt last time, but Eym was on the sands too

and I was so scared she'd get hurt." Well, way to go Ryran, you've killed Rona's excitement. The girl inches closer

again, holding tighter to Ryran. "Relyssa, come over here with us," she calls, spotting the girl in a momentary glance


Syseron's widen at the question Avery asks and his eyes avert from the dragonets and the eggs to the young girl

beside him. "uuhhh…" he blinks and looks awkward, falling silent and turning red (redder than he already was

with the heat from the sands). "Sure, Ave… but, you know… I didn't Impress my first time. You … shouldn't be

upset if it doesn't happen." He scratches the back of his neck and looks at the brown once more. "err.. I don't want

it to sound like I don't… I just… I … Don't ask me. You can do it. I know you can."

Talara glances around. "Uh…don't know that one at the moment either Riv." She's forgotten how to count! Okay,

no, not really but she's way to distracted. She bites at her lower lip, and pulls at her robe. She's getting a little

nervous or something here. "Still a few more, but they're hatching quick."
The Pretty Soldier Green Dragonet pauses in her search. Perhaps tired, or just lazy, she plonks herself down in

front of a group of girls a yawn shuddering across her muzzle. Too much effort. A high-pitched creel follows next;

this is just all too much work for such a pretty green. She lulls to the side; clumsily erring on a rapidly drying wing

sail, and rolls to the right and atop the feet of the perfect one. Talara.

Mother of the Depths Egg works itself into frenzy; cracks appear like storm-tossed waves disrupting all from light-

tipped apex to seaweed entangled bottom. The cracks increase in size and dimension, groaning and growing until

finally culminating in a crescendo of crashing as the shell disintegrates, leaving Equatorial Evolution Blue Dragonet

stranded upon the sands.

Equatorial Evolution Blue Dragonet
A glittering wave of deepest aquamarine spreads over a chiseled muzzle, crashing against the rocky spine of his

ridges to set eddies billowing o'er his hide. Across structured shoulders his shade lightens as it ripples outwards,

foaming into whitecaps of sky shades that scud across his wings. Sweeping his belly are the deepest tones of the

oceans, dappled with cloudy shadows. His curvy flanks are swirled like whirlpools, shimmering as if constantly sun-

kissed before melting to chartreuse shades on feet tipped with coral claws. Finally the crest breaks as it washes

down his tail, ending in a sandy tip. Long and fluid, he appears as if he is the currents of the sea made flesh,

muscles flowing into each other with consummate grace and power.

"Candidacy," Cheyanna says to Faulk. Her eyes track paths of brown and green as they move around — and

there's Talara with the green. She smiles at the other girl, but it's tight and not really natural.

Ryran would probably shriek like a girl again if Corona wasn't clinging to his arm. "Right.. well, um. That sorta

thing isn't going to happen this time." Cough. "Because I won't let it, see?" There. That ought to soothe some

nerves.. even though his are rather shot. "Talara!" Beam.

Neasan is getting more nervous as the Ah-Puch Egg seems to be closer to hatching. He can't take his eyes off it for

more than a moment, and then only to check on the other dragonets. He forces himself to breath deeply, though his

eyes flicker to the other candidates to be sure no one can see his slight shaking. A hand is rubbed across his face to

wipe away some of the sweat. "Talara!" He calls, managing to catch the Impression out of the corner of his eye.

Aylara wipes a line of sweat off of her forehead. "Shards it's hot…" She says, speaking to no one in particular,

though she waves at Relyssa. At the pinacle of her excitement a small doubt rises in her eyes. What if she doesn't

impress? She shoves the thought aside, looking at the clutch of eggs as another egg shakes, momentarily distracted.

But her eyes drone to the brown and back to the clutch, as if she's afraid to miss something.

Aisling watches her fellow candidates impress to the dragonets, grinning madly. Her mind off the heat at her feet

she settles in to enjoy the show. Just so long as no rampaging dragons come her way, she's content.
[Stripped!] Talara luffs on all!

"I suppose there was something to it. I can't remember what, though. Maybe," Faulk touches his nose

experimentally, "I found myself. Of course, now I don't really want to go home. So I … well, that's something, I

guess!" He glances over at another Impression. "Another one. Too bad. She had some sense."

Jia raises an eyebrow at her…um… master? Shards, no. Boss. Yes. Boss. "Grmph," she responds cheerfully. Yup,

she's guarding. Guard guard guard. And, apparently, being "hot" while doing so. At least she can just stand there,

giving whiteknots the evil eye, and she doesn't have to worry about the feeding etc… at least until next hatching.

Next… hatching? He eyes go wide as reality sinks in. Oh, no! She may have to do this for the /rest of her life/!

Right. Project. Must be a terrible WLM. /Must/. Demotion, here she comes: although, not just now. "/Back/!" she

orders a dark-haired lass who's gotten too close to freedom. "Back up now, please."

Sorcha is clearly a beacon for bad luck, having been mauled last time and what-not. In fact, her stunning (ahem)

Candidate's robe reveals the ugly scars on her legs. She hovers by herself, somewhere on the semi-circle between

Ryran and Neasan. It's hot. It's sweaty. It's quite uncomfortable, and there could be claws involved. Is it any

surprise she's not smiling? In fact, if she was confident that she could take Jia down, she'd make a run for it.

Ryran runs a wrist across his forehead to rid it of some sweat, though the action seems futile. The robe around his

middle is rather damp and clearly shows it. "Faranth, it's hot. My sandals feel like they're gonna burn.." Glancing

down at his feet for a moment, Ry's attention is quickly grabbed by a newly hatched blue dragonet.

Rivellis allows a bit of a shocked expression to make it's way onto his face as Talara impresses. Well, now she would

annoy him even more!! Not good… "Congratulations Talara." Riv mutters, maybe not even audible to the girl.

Hmm, where was Neasan? Had he impressed? Thoughts are momentarily banished from his mind as a blue

hatches. "A blue." Waita state the obvious Riv.

Equatorial Evolution Blue Dragonet shakes his head emphatically, ridding himself of eggshards and goo. With a far

too mature hrrumph, he slowly makes his way onto his feet, his long neck swinging from side to side as he tries to

ascertain the exact nature of those white swaying gibbering things.

Heart of the Desert Brown Dragonet looks languidly around the sands, appearing uninterested in most of the

candidates his big eyes observe. After taking a few distressing glimpses on all sides of him, a compassionate-looking

girl is spotted, and in next to no time at all, he's on his way head first towards her with surprising speed.

Unfortunately for him, he stumbles and falls multiple times in his journey to the blue eyed girl, so that now both

pasted egg shell and sand cover his dirty brown hide. Upon arrival, his croons become more loving than wistful,

nuzzling up against the blonde haired woman's legs as his eyes meet those belonging his new best friend, Aylara.

Talara blinks at the dragonet as she stops in front of her and gasps, standing completely still before slowly lowering

herself to her knees. Who cares if the sands are hot! She reaches out to scratch the green's head, a smile slowly

forming over her face and eyes beginning to water. Just a little. "Tsukiath…" And that's all she can manage to say at

the moment.

"Where else would you go?" Cheyanna asks, sounding a bit horrified by the idea. There is home, and there is… not

home. She glances again up at the stands, and the familiar faces in the front row. "Wouldn't you miss your family

and things?" She runs at her sweaty scalp, which is shining noticeably in the heat. None of the dragons are

holding her attention individually, just the mass of them as a whole.

Imperial Book of Etiquette Egg jitters, it's occupant moving within the shell and causing it to shiver in anticipation.

Corona's enthusiasm doesn't skyrocket with this Impression, as it did last time. Ryran's mention of mauling has

brought her low. She does call out, "Yea, Talara," though not nearly as loudly as for the last few Impressions. Her

eyes scan the sands repeatedly, now on the lookout to make sure no dragonets come near enough to maul, and even

more, to make sure some green doesn't try to Impress to them. It's during this motion that she sees Aylara's

Impression, which causes a big smile and a yell, "Aylara!"

Rainbow Serpent Egg gives way without any warning, a small fissure splitting either end even down the middle.

From within, a speckled brown glistens the area with his wet hide. Wings test their durability, landing him uneven

and falling to the sand below. A small cry emits from his muzzle, multi-faceted orbs swirling with displeasure and

hunger all the same. In a rush, a tall lad from Paradise Hold rushes forward, lifting the brown out from the itchy

mess and giving his hide a good wipe to rid him of the clinging sand particles, "It'll be okay, Queytoliralianianth…

we'll get you oiled and fed in no time!" With that, T'u and his new lifemate are escorted off of the sands.

Relyssa hesitates momentarily as she darts a glance at the clutch and frowns. The eggs were sure hatching fast.

They were almost gone. At least that's how it looks to her! But then she spies one of the hatchlings pausing before a

familiar form. Talara! A squeal of delight escapes the redhead before she realizes her name is being called. Wheeling

around to peer at Corona, she happily makes her way towards the other girl and her clingee. She pauses to glance

again at Aylara as the girl Impresses. "Yay Ayla!"

Aylara is stunned when the brown chooses her. So much so that she almost doesn't catch his name. "He says his

name is Jhakkarath!" She's amazed and throws her arms round the hatchling's neck. She's had her dream and

she's reeling from it! She hugs him and loves him till she's sure he's sick of her already. "You're a dream….."

Avery smiles as she gives Syseron's hand yet another squeeze. "It's okay, Ron. You don't have to try and comfort

me. I'll survive." She pauses as another candidate Impresses and frowns slightly. "I think," she says under her


"My family isn't at Heal— oh, okay, part of them are. But he won't miss me, I surely don't miss him, I can start a

new life all by myself in a … a little cothold. Which I suppose would have people." Faulk scowls and scratches

under his elbow. "People." Aylara's Impression is noted and lightly blatted at. "Hah! If Relyssa will get one too,

maybe they'll both leave me alone. I stand above all women! Er, except you, Cheyanna. You're much like a man."

Jia edges the newest escepee-hopeful onto the main area of sand. Task of the moment completed, the rest of the

candidates get looooong glances. Heh, like any of them could take a seasoned dragonrider. Let's see 'em try! At

least it would be a distraction. Sighing very slightly, the bluerider woman settles back against the wall. At the very

least, she reasons, it's a decent temperature in here.

Neasan is still here, though he's rather silent in his misery. After all, nervousness and extreme heat are enough to

bring anyone down. He calls out a congrats for Aylara, but otherwise remains quiet, watching the eggs that are left

closer than the dragonets already on the sands. "Jhakkarath, what an interesting name," he comments lowly,

nodding in approval.

Ryran grins over at Aylara once the brown claims her as his own. Though he doesn't shout anything, the beaming

smile on his face tells all. "Wow, they're going one by one.." Candidates turned weyrlings are being ushered off the

sands and he swallows another lump in his throat as he gazes at them. The heart in his chest is still beating wildly

and he takes a deep breath to try and relax. "I don't know how much longer I can stand this.. My nerves have long

left me."

Imperial Book of Etiquette Egg gives one final shudder, a myriad of cracks appearing all around its top, and the

head of a golden dragonet appears, complete with a crown of shards. Her attempts at further freeing herself are far

from queenly, hampered as she is by a lack of free limbs and after completing a few wobbly circles she and her shell

corset topple over. This does have the benefit of splitting the remainder of her egg, enabling the lady to spread out

and right herself with a slight croon, ready to begin her appraisal of the candidates.

Fortune on a Crown Lager's Froth Gold Dragonet
Earth-born red soothes a finely shaped muzzle, caresses cheekbones in sunsets crimson and pours down chiseled

neck to simmer in shoulders' golden-bronze. Marks, bearing no set pattern, flare across her wide chest and solid

torso in circles of crushed stone gray mottling gold territory and lend to whitened ash inclination, mirrored at each

turn by a shadow of stilted ebon. Dissipating back into the ochre-reddened gild that shrouds angular 'ridges,

charcoal takes its turn and flares in golden silhouette down dainty forelegs, departing in dangerous talons of heat-

hardened obsidian. Skeletal in form and whimsically dappled by means of pebbled tan, specks of stirred char cast

themselves over her wing sails of orange ember glow, vast stretches of membrane shrouded in a blanket of aureate

dust. A last glimmer of smoldering seared darkness dies, leaving in its wake the white of grained sands converging

in strips and waves of indiscriminate and time-carved formation. Curving, they erode in thick lines down her

hindquarters and legs, and follow the trail down whiplash tail, ending in an ultimate restoration to golden origin.

Sorcha turns to Minka as the gold appears, narrowing her eyes. Last time one of these things went running around

the sands, Minka up and became weyrwoman. With an analytical gaze, she peers around the group of candidates,

looking for someone.. well, she doesn't know. She never saw it coming for Minka, so who knows what will happen

now? She merely hangs back, waiting for someone to rush forward or squeal or.. /something/. The anxiety and

tension in the air is suffocating.

Aisling watches the blue, he is a beauty, one can't help but feel a bit of pitty for the poor creatures, they don't even

get sandals to walk on the hot sands with.

Corona jumps, pulling roughly on Ryran's arm as she accidently steps forward. "Ryran! Gold, it's a gold!" She

shouts, all fear gone again as she frees one arm to point wildly in the dragon's direction. This might just be her big

chance, though that certainly wasn't her egg that the dragonet came out of. There's a moment of hesitation and

fright as she has that realization. Her face falls and she freezes, staring sadly between the Maiden's White Flower

Egg and the golden hatchling.

Avery's jaw drops at first sight of the gold — how can one not stare, agog, at such a stunning figure of a dragon.

She licks her lips and swallows, her attention turning instantly towards the rest of the sands' occupants. Gold may

be gorgeous, but gah… the work!

Relyssa at last wanders up to Ryran and Corona, blinking at the two of them before frowning. Wow.. the eggs really

/are/ going fast. Eyes fly open, however, upon resting on the gold hatchling. Gold. How pretty. Her breath grows

shallow, and her sweaty hands fidget with her robe. Other hatchlings dart in and out of her vision, and her gaze

lingers on them before going back to her fellow candidates. Those that are left, anyhow.

*CRACK* It's another gold! No, wait. Its not. It's just a (very!) lightly tinted bronze hatching out of the Ishtar Egg.

He trips over his own feet, too, upon emerging into the new world around him. Pity that. He allows no sympathy,

however, since just as quickly, he's up and standing and making his way towards the new N'pol a very tall, goofy

looking boy with a mop of golden curls and specs upon his face. A sudden "Dynamith!" breaks any silence there

might've been as yet another impression is made.

Equatorial Evolution Blue Dragonet continues to scour the sands; he decides to investigate a cluste

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