Hatching 47

07:38 PM
Logfile from Pippa.

Awkward girlishness in one very lanky package, this teen's current presence bodes well for a more striking figure come adulthood. Given testament is her untamed locks of coiled dark sorrel, highlighed with a reddish rust through nature's sun-bleaching. This girl's wind-blown curls descend to just brush her shoulders and are as wild as ever, near to overpowering a willowy appearance. Her eyes are lightened by irises of the color of a pale sea green, rimmed with thick lashes and bridged by dark brows. Rough angles cut the line of her hawkish nose, slash high with cheekbones despite the remnants of a child's babyfat, and bring her chin to an impish point. Her olive-hued skin is made even darker by a life spent outside, tanned by the tropic's sun. Gangly movements seem to characterize her tall form, as if this young girl isn't quite used to her latest growth spurt.
Adorning only one of her ears is a simple hoop earring. It is rather small, but sturdy, and glinting gold.
With a susurrus about her ankles, Pippa's rather traditional candidate's robe really isn't as poetic as it is about to sound. Copacetic actually, the robe is of fairly optimal proportions and a minimum of embellishment. In fact, there isn't anything at all that can be considered an embellishment upon it. Flippant stitchery along the hemline leaves things looking a little uneven, but not too noticeably so. Sleeveless with reason, there is a bit of antediluvian patterning along the V-neckline. Alas, a thin strip of cloth is used to bring the robe somewhat close to her waistline, a storm of cloth bunching here and there at her hips. Simple leather-thong sandals dress her feet as some barrier between them and the hatching sands.
Pippa wears the knot of a Candidate at Ista Weyr. She is wearing a silver chain Dolphincraft bracelet with the Associate and Apprentice charms. She is wearing a silver chain Dolphincraft bracelet with the Apprentice charm.
She is a teenager of about 14. She is awake and looks alert.

L'nin is heralded only by those candidates who've already heard the news, or indeed have heard the beginnings of the thrumming. The weyrlingmaster barges into the barracks, leaving no time for candidates to cover up any modesty, should it be required. Hands are cupped around his mouth, and the bellow echoes: "The clutchparents have started humming. Robes, everyone!"

Micail is still getting over the fact that Corona was all bloodied up earlier. Really, he wasn't really expecting anyone to come barging in, announcing humming and such. There's a tiny squeak that issues from the black-eyed sporting candidate, and he dives for his cot, scrambling to change clothes.

Sadi snatches up her robe from the foot of her cot where she had placed it earlier in the day and quickly changes. No regard for how much she will or will not upset her fellow candidates seems to be given as her skirt, shirt, and belt are quickly shucked and the robe donned in their place with a white scrappy looking sash quickly tied round her waist… And she's ready just like that.
Iosha is one of the candidates heralded in, her hair still damp and her eyes distinctly wide. Seeing as she is clad only in her towel it doesn't take her all that long to slip her robe over her head. Her sandals take a little longer, considering they require coordination and stuff.

Sanura has connected.

Mercutio is also one of those ushered into the barracks, his two firelizards flying indignantly above him. Their dinner time was interrupted, but for a good cause. Merc wastes no time in unearthing his robe and shrugging it on, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness.

Amid the hustle of the barracks, now an insane rush, comes Eleithyia from just around the Weyrlingmaster. The small girl is soaked, panicked, and clad only in a towl. A white towel, but definitely not her robe. She bounces between the changing candidates to her cot, tossing everything aside and digging her robe out from a pile under her bed. It doesn't take long to slip it on, though she's now frantically running her hands through her dripping locks.

Ditheran finished his robe just recently, lucky for him. Quickly changing into said robe, he looks around, unsure of what to do next. He remembers to slip on his sandals at least. Bare feet on the sands? Baaaad idea.

Romel was actually relaxing on his cot for the first time in a long time, but L'nin's bellow startles him enough to where he almost flips sideways right off of it, regaining his balance at the last minute. He looks wildly at the candidates in their mad scramble before he joins, yanking his robe from where it was convinently hung on the cotstand at the end. Without thinking, he gets naked before he realizes … oh, hey, he doesn't have any underwear on. He fights with his robe a bit, the cotton sticking to the moisture already forming on his skin, but he finally covers himself up. But still has no underwear. Sandals are tugged on and strapped, and he's ready for action.

Eleryn almost falls off her cot before she remembers herself and manages enough of a recovery to mostly ooze to her feet. Once standing, she changes into her robe with brisk efficiency, and slips on a pair of sandals. Luckily, her hair is already up. She looks around and decides to hover by Eleithyia. "Ready?" And Micail? Gets a long, slow smirk from her.

L'nin is jostled as candidates hurry to and fro. "When you're ready, line up!" is bellowed again, and indeed, those who've already been dressed. And the brownrider sets to inspecting the ranks, ensuring no one is wearing what they shouldn't. One girl pouts as she has to take off a necklace.

Micail wriggles into his robe, not particularly caring that it's..well..uneven. A lot. Oh well, who /really/ cares..as long as it's not falling off of him. He sits down then, grabbing for his sandals in order to shove them on.

Pippa is pretty much well here with everyone else. You know the drill. Whatever. The girl is idly twirling a strand of hair about her finger, making the tip turn a fascinating color of pink and everything. As the rider enters and the call is made, she breaks into a bright grin. Oh yeah, finally. Stripped, robed, and sandaled, she's all set to go. "Do you think we'll see some blood?" she asks nobody in particular. "Hey, nobody get eviscerated, okay?" Just livening things up, or something.

Iosha shuffles into line, her face growing more and more blank as things progress. L'nin gets a small glare, but otherwise he may as well not exist as far as Io is concerned. "Nice view." She smirks at Romel as she passes, the line moving forward in a mixture of excitement and fear.

Mercutio finishes with his sandals, moving to take a place in line. He grins nervously at Pippa, shrugging. "Hope no one looses an arm or anything." Cuz really, that would be something you'd need.

Sadi moves into the line and would comment, except all that comes out from her is a stifled squeak. Poor girl looks positively terrified.

Ditheran gets into the line at L'nin's command. Certainly better than just standing around. He manages to get somewhere in the middle of the line. He glances around at the other candidates, to see if they're as nervous as he feels right now.

Eleithyia lets out a loud yelp as she nearly slips on a puddle on a ground, formed by her lovely hair of course. She digs her shoes out next, slipping her feet into the sandals and, with a satisfied nod, she stands up again and runs back to the already assembling line. "Hatching.. hatching today, of all the bloody days!" And speaking of blood, the young girl pales and shudders, rubbing her still damp hands over her arms. "And we were just there this morning, too." She glances over at those surrounding her, trying to offer nervous grins.

Romel gives a goofy grin to Iosha, even daring to give her a wink in all the chaos, handily coming after her in line as he scrambles forward. Eleithyia's yelp elecits a, "You okay there?" from him, before he slouches in line, waiting for further direction.

Sanura follows up at some point, coming off of her cot, already dressed in her somewhat malformed robes. Standing neatly in the row that was quite slowly form.
Micail hobbles just a bit, trying to get that final sandal on..as well as get in line at the same time. It ends with him bringing up the rear, finally able to stand upright once he's got the sandal on.

Eleryn's eyebrows both raise as she listens to the conversation around her. "If you're not bright enough to move out of the way …" she murmurs to no one in particular, slipping into line just in front of Micail. No growling ensues. She merely waits for L'nin's ext instructions.

"Remember what you were told! Bow to the parents, watch yourselves around the dragons. Ready now?" And without waiting for any real response, L'nin points a flat hand toward the door, and shouts, "Follow me."

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.
Gliding about is a green firelizard.
Micail, Taelor, and Ditheran are here.
Obvious exits:
Sands Galleries Bowl

On the sands, A nervous shuffle announces the arrival of the candidates, moving without real confidence the group forms a semi-circle around the rocking eggs. The last stragglers settle into place and the solid wall of white bows to Ryazusith and Nverath and their riders before falling into anticipatory silence. They are ready.

On the sands, Rukbat's Flare Egg twitches in its divot of sand, not one to be left out. A ripple along one side of the egg falls still, though. Not ready, yet.

On the sands, Faranth's Inferno Egg gives a violent rock before falling silent again.

On the sands, Sadi eyes the egg's twitch nervously. And to think she had just been out touching that very egg earlier. The candidate takes a step closer to Mercutio looking decidedly pale as she does so.

Oh ho ho! You had better be a Rider or a Candidate to have business on the sands! Brooding dragons are not reknowned for their good tempers.
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 not 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 Nverath and Ryazusith's offspring (more commonly referred to as eggs). The echoes bounce and multiply, giving life to this heated environment.
Gold Ryazusith and bronze Nverath are here.
You see Mound of Eggs, IstaWeyrBldr, A Memorable Disaster Egg, Child of the Tropics Egg, Faranth's Inferno Egg, Frozen Wastelands Egg, Icefire Egg, Into the Mud Egg, Relentless Lahar Egg, Rukbat's Flare Egg, Scorched Savannah Egg, Toxic Soup Egg, and Volcanic Maelstrom Egg here.
S'eron, Martin, Sin, R'yn, D'baji, Lzi, N'ano, Mercutio, Eleryn, Eleithyia, Iosha, Isabeau, Sanura, Sadi, Ditheran, Micail, Romel, and Taelor are here.
Obvious exits:

Eleithyia comes up from her graceful bow, just as she had done this morning. Practice, of course! She finds herself near Romel and she offers him a few finger wiggles. And, just in case the older candidate doesn't know, she squeaks out a "They're hatching!" to him. Whee. Her grey eyes turn back towards the rocking eggs, and she suddenly pales as she finds them to actually be /moving/. Oh, Faranth..

Micail is a bit..slow in heading out onto the sands. He might have been bringing up the end of the line, but he's gotten more than a few feet behind as the candidates move onto the sand. Dopey grin? Oh yes, he's sporting one of those..for whatever the reason, and settles into place, clearing his throat a little.

Iosha sidles up to Romel, still smirking. "You're a brave lad." She comments to him in an undertone. "I'd hate to think what kind of injury you'd do to yourself if you were to fall flat on your ass." She's all sweetness and light really. But still Romel is someone to share the terror with.

Taelor shifts uneasily in his area of the sands, and as the first egg moves enough to be seen wonders if everyone around him can hear his heart beating right now as well. "Calm…Calm, be calm." He mutters to himself and then repetas in his mind over and over again.

Toxic Soup Egg wiggles within its sandy confines, bumping lightly into nearby neighbors. The murky surface bends slightly, and then quiets once more, still waters waiting for the time to be right.

Ditheran files out with the other candidates, somewhere in the middle of the group. When the bow is done, he turns to look at the other eggs. The rocking eggs get pointed out to the candidate next to him. Yeah, like they're hard to notice.

Faranth's Inferno Egg rolls forward, coming into scorching contact with its brother. The dark egg trembles between rhythmic knocks against its inside, the silver pinpricks seeming to grow as bits of the shell are shed by the insistent battery. Stillness after these first shards are shed, the creature within prompting a moment of suspense with its rest. Then, an explosion as limbs and tail push in all directions against the weakened walls, and the inferno shatters to reveal a blue dragonet, overly-long limbs splayed out on Ista's dark sands.
Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet
Cosmic swirls of mauve and azure wind nebulous over harsh 'ridges, sprinkling ethereal cerulean dust over the inky background of his sides in their wake. Inky black is the dragon's pointed muzzle, absorbing all surrounding light save for two bolts of electric blue along his eyeridges. The same darkness swells over precariously long limbs, interrupted at the joints by ominous flashes of powder-blue flame, haloed in auras of aquamarine. A flash of brightest white on his chest illuminates the chaos of his underbelly, cobalt and sapphire contracting into swirls and chunks to be thrown against the indigo marking the underside his neck, to assult the flares of palatinate purple curving beneath his tail. A heating golden light nestled between his shoulders shines onto the lowest parts of his long, thin wings, which, pushing upward before settling back, add to the dragon's abnormal height. Across his 'sails, order has been regained, and glowing orbs of carmine, orbited by pinprick satellites of slate, bask in the auric warmth.

S'eron follows the candidates onto the sands, tugging at his shirt and putting it in place. He rubs a hand over his face as he stretches his eyes and examines the sands in general. He makes a good bow to the clutch parents before he starts pacing the sands slowly. He's looking for sick candidates or trouble makers. Beware! S'eron is on the prowl.

Kieryn walks out onto the sands.

Pippa follows the others. She is a lemming, yep. Kinda need to be at this point in your candidate career. The girl shuffles out, occasionally tugging on the robe of a candidate before her and harshly whisper, "Oh sweeeeeeet Faranth, it is about time. Can you wait? I can't. Oh my! Did you see that? One just cracked and -Oh! A blue. Wow, look at his talons." Babble-babble-babble.

Romel was only just out here earlier! This time, it's different - it's *loud*. He winces as he enters, the reverberations on the stone walls causing him to tug at his earlobes uncomfortably. With Eleithyia on one side and Iosha on the other, his attitude is loads better than it was earlier, no doubt glad that Micail isn't within arm's reach. "They are, lookit the blue!" is said to the pair of girls, leaning into Iosha a little. Why yes, he /is/ a brave one.

Mercutio makes himself comfortable in his place.. or as comfortable as you can get on hot sands. A nervous grin is offered to Sadi, and he nods to the eggs. "They're alive." Duh. And then one hatches, and he resists the urge to point. "Not a bronze, but he looks healthy. That's lucky enough, right?"

Taelor starts to take a hesitant step backwards from the newly hatched dragon but still his feet at the last moment with another repeat of 'calm' in his mind. He shuffles across the sand to Micail, "Are you as /terrified/ as I am…?"

Eleryn expected the heat, but she finds that sandals and the Sands are a somewhat different story. If the former assistant headwoman is nervous, she hides it behind a calm mien. "Eggs do that," she points out, sidling over to join Eleithyia. A moment later, "Especially blue ones."

Sanura is awefully quiet compared to her earlier enthousiasm when it came to the hatching. She seems to have frozen up whilst looking at the eggs slow trembling and even the first hatching dragon. Her eyes are set upon the sands, and she seems to be almost frozen. Apparently forgotten everything she'd learned in her time as a candidate.

Sadi blinks as the first egg hatches and a blue is set free from his long imprisonment. Squeak, cling, "It's… uhm," and she falls silent as she watches the blue hatchling.

N'ano flags S'eron down with a little wave, thumbing towards his 'supplies' on standby, should the occasion arive. Yeah, he's totally a boy scout, or just a healer. Same difference. "Good luck!" is called out to the white clad ones just after before he slides back and leans against the wall.

Rukbat's Flare Egg rocks violently—as it is bumped against by another egg. It twitches, ripples, and falls still again. Jus' kidding! Not ready quite yet.

Micail scoots himself a little closer to the candidate nearest to him. Which..happens to be Taelor. Scootscoot. He does manage to look a bit less..goofy as his expression turns more serious, laughing just a bit. "Nervous? Uh…well yeah.. /Yeah./ Not as much as I was.. but.."

Ditheran quickly notices the heat; somehow, it was forgotten in all the excitement. He starts shifting from foot to foot, all the while watching the eggs. "Ooh, one hatched," he says excitedly. A blue. That's good, right?

D'baji is standing in front of his lifemate (Nverath, of course, looking exceptionally proud), the sleeves of his tunic rolled up, hairy arms crossed over his chest. The first hatched is trumpetted by the bronze. Ryazusith offers a proud croon.

Lzi lets out a cheer, even raising her fists in the air. "I /totally/ won! I bet blue!" Not that anyone really cares, and with that outburst, Lzi falls silent again. Outwardly cranky, but inwardly pleased with herself.

Iosha quirks a brow. "Really? I thought it was gold personally." Io lies. She does that when she is nervous. And she is definately nervous now. "A rather handsome gold, nice hips." And so on and so forth. And then the heat starts radiating through the soles of her sandals. "Ouch!" Yes it's hot.

S'eron makes his way over to N'ano, a smile starting to tug at his lips. "Oh, good. Glad someone thought ahead while I was candidate wrangling." He takes a swatch of linen and stuffs it into his pocket for immediate use. Hopefully he won't need it. He turns back to the candidates. "First'uns blue. Who had marks on that?"

Mercutio offers and end to sadi's sentance for her, "Pretty?" he says, shakily. "Lookit all those shades of blue."

Eleithyia beams up first to Romel, then Eleryn. "Yes, blue indeed. Pretty, ain't he?" And then the grin disappears as she turns back to the recently hatched dragonet. "You don't think he's going to come over here, do you? Cause, there's plenty over there." She bounces from one foot to the other, though less from the heat and more because of the excitement. "I bet a green will follow, too…" Her grey eyes travel to those eggs still rocking.

Taelor takes his eyes off the blue for a few moments to look at the other candidates, and slowly evens his breathing with something to distract him. When he looks back at the blue he's much looser, "It's a very beautiful dragon the blue is." The next part is muttered to the candidate beside him, "I bet a green would be first though."

Toxic Soup Egg wobbles, and then rolls slightly away from the others. The strain seems to show in dark lines across the egg's surface. Side to side, the dance grows in intensity.

Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet is free at last! A triumphant cry is let out before he realizes there are people looking at him. The candidates are watched in turn before he playfully charges at one small boy, falling on his face soon after. Aw.

Sadi gulps, "Yeah, blue," she echoes and stares at the hatchling then jumps as soon as the next egg looks like it's even thinking about twitching.

Romel tugs on the collar of his robe, beginning to sweat already - nerves and heat does that to you, you know? Unfortunately, in his lack-of-underwearingness, his robe starts to cling … in all the wrong places. He adjusts his stance, grappling with the fabric briefly to stop the cling. "He's a beaut, that's for sure. Bad tidings for a blue to come first, though." Not that they're in a Pass or anything, it might be normal.

Eleryn is, perhaps, slower on the pick up than is normal. Her gaze is darting around to check the eggs, but there's no sign of life from the one's she's noticed. "Not so graceful, though," she observes, and quietly inches closer to Eleithyia. Just in case.

Micail tilts his head just a bit, though his gaze goes toward that blue, watching it..fall. Well..oops? "I didn't bet, so I'm in the clear." He certainly wouldn't have bet on that color. "Heh..doesn't look like he quite has his legs yet though."

Ditheran bet on brown. There goes a mark or two. Oh, well. When the blue draognet goes down, Ditheran almost wants to go and help him back up. He doesn't, though, instead just watching with the other candidates.

Rukbat's Flare Egg thinks about twitching. It gathers itself, holding very still, ready to hop to the side and then…doesn't move. Not yet.

Toxic Soup Egg seems to still, as if the life within had finally been drawn down into the muck and mire. Then, almost when all hope is lost, a ripple passes along the surface of the murky shell. Frantic tapping echoes from below, followed by a resounding 'crunch' as a pale, rain-washed foot finally finds its way free. Tiny toes wiggle slightly as the egg begins to tip sideways, balancing precariously before finally falling over to land with a harsh bump. The remaining shell splits right down the middle, revealing an angled, storm-wracked hatchling.
Calm After the Storm Blue Dragonet
Fog softens a storm-wracked hide, hazy grey wisping over the darkling blue of misaligned headknobs and jagged neckridges; heather steals along rain-washed limbs, ghosting over inelegant angles and bruise-black joints. From narrow, twisted shoulders grow ragged pinions, wingsails of pale, pearlescent azure caught 'tween night-dark spars — battered, but not broken. Wings' spread adds color to the gaunt frame and lean haunches, swept back into the cloud-occluded blue of a whipcord tail.

N'ano has connected.

Mercutio looks at Sadi, offering her a little pat on the back. "You look like you're about to die from nerves." He says, not sounding much better himself. He looks back in time to catch the first blue's stumble. "Must be hard walking on young feet." He comments to no one in particular. Talking's good to do when you're nervous, right?

Eleithyia is following everyone in the sands-dance, but she doesn't try to focus on it. "Bad tidings? I didn't know there were /bad/ tidings." She stares at the first blue, then squeaks out at the next one to hatch. There's a nervous giggle, and she wrings her hands together. "I guess two mean that something real bad is going to happen, ain't it?" Eleryn is noticed, and the older girl gets a raised brow. What is Thyia, a shield?

Taelor can't hold back a wince as the blue falls, "Ouch…kind of a clumsy one isn't he. But I guess they all are at this age." One, two minutes? "Another blue!"

Iosha sways slightly, it's the heat, not an opportunity to check out Romel's cling. "Shame it is not all that coordinated though, doesn't bode well for flights." She comments. She has no clue. "Oh another! So much for an interval clutch."

Micail blinks, brows arching up. He does lift a hand though, rubbing slightly around the edge of his bruised eye. "Wow, /another/ one?" Flood of blue!

Frozen Wastelands Egg shivers a little, but seems comforted by the warm sands. No, not yet.

Ditheran oohs as another blue comes out. "Does that mean anything?" he asks any candidates nearby. Maybe two of the same color in a row means something special. Maybe it doesn't, though.

"How much did you make, Lzi?" S'eron waves a hand, enunciating so he can be heard, but not exactly shouting across the sands to her. That'd be awkward. Everyone's staring at the blues anyway. S'eron moves quickly over to the bowled over boy and checks for injuries.
Rukbat's Flare Egg gives a mamoth shudder abruptly—enough to push it right out of its divot, whereafter it starts rolling…right toward the candidates!

Sadi sways on her feet then clings to Mercutio again as she spots the second blue, "uh," wow, really quite the conversationalist isn't she? And here she thought this would be a breeze.

Another blue dragonet had broken out of its egg, and still Sanura had not moved an inch. Not from her position that was. She seemed to slowly snap out of the almost dream-like state and was looking around her for a moment, trying to find out where she was standing in comparison to others. She gazes over the eggs and suddenly runs away from the path of the rolling egg, trying to get out of the way, seperating herself somewhat from the other candidates.

Romel glances at Thyia, "S'posed to be good fortune to have a bronze hatch, brown ain't so bad. But blue and green hatch first, means that there's not going to be many larger dragons." The angly little blue that just hatched from the gross egg gets a doubletake - /that/ was what was giving everyone such sick phantom scents? "That one's cute in an ugly sorta way." More cling, more adjusting. Great, last thing he needs is to be adjusting himself in front of a load of dragonriders.

Pippa dances back a couple of steps, kicking her feet a bit to make sure no loose grains of sand slip into her sandals. "Oh my… another." There you go Pippa, stating the obvious once more. She flicker a glance askance to Micail, giving him a wry grin. What's this? Rolling eggs? Seriously? Maybe dragonets aren't the only things to watch out for.

N'ano starts to take a step, but given S'eron's injection into the scene, he sidles towards Lzi instead, giving her shoulder a little nudge in greeting before he releans against the wall. "Hey. Keep an eye out for me, eh?"

Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet picks himself back up after his fall, shaking as much sand off of his face as he can. Now. Where was he? Oh right. Those things in the white robes. A girl is sniffed over before he moves onto another girl. No, not there, but getting closer.

Taelor shifts again on the sand, not so much out of nervousness this time but because of the heat of the sands. "Nervousness isn't helping the hea-" A pause as the egg starts moving towards the candidates and he grabs nudges Micail /maybe/ a little to hard, "We may need to move if it gets this far."

Eleryn's glare dares Eleithyia to comment further. It's not hiding, it's … self-preservation. "Odd egg, interesting blue. How peculiar." And it's back to observing the eggs. However. "A stampeding egg? Good grief." Her sudden silence after that might have something to do with the sniffing blue.

Calm After the Storm Blue Dragonet looks right, then left at the sides of his former prison. He grabs onto one shell with his muzzle, trying to yank his foot free. In the process, he sends himself rocking backwards, landing on his rump as he tugs and pulls. Finally, the shell cracks once more, freeing his ankle, at least somewhat. The angular little dragon rolls onto his side, and then to his feet, one large egg bit still clinging to his leg as he turns eyes towards the white robed ones.

Micail just../stares/ as one of the eggs actually starts rolling. "Is..that /safe/?" It doesn't really look like it. He makes a faint noise as he's grab/nudged, latching onto Taelor a bit in order to steady himself a bit more. "Yeah..I'd rather not get smushed."
Iosha smirks, Romel shouldn't worry so much about the riders, he has an attentive observer right by his side. "What the…?" Io exclaims as the egg starts wobbling. And then it's loose. "Eggs should stay still. They're much nicer without the wobbling and rolling."

Ditheran watches the rolling egg warily… that could hurt. Pretty bad. "Is it supposed to do that?" They rock, but they aren't supposed to roll!

Kieryn has connected.

"Enough to buy myself a new wardrobe!" Lzi shouts back over to S'eron, smirking. Bet big or go home, baby. And since there's a N'ano suddenly by her, he's given a look. "What?"

D'baji peers up toward his lifemate, murmuring a quick, "Got an excited group of babies, 'Ver," to the dragon. There's a distinct pride in him, too. And surely some of that is there of his own volition, and not just reflected glow from the bronze.

Mercutio grins at Ditheran, being close enough to hear the comment, and shrugs. "Probably just luck." He says, watching the second blue for a little bit. "That one doesn't look to bad." he says, nodding fro mit. "Not for all the.." he pauses, looking for a word, "Teasing it did to you guys." Best not anger the clutchparents. Sadi gets a reassuring grin— as reassuring as nervous merc can get, anyway— /Then/ he notices the rolling egg and just yelps, moving to the side as far as he dares without knocking sadi over.

Rukbat's Flare Egg rolls some more, gathering speed as it comes to the bottom of a little hill of sand and starts up the next. Just at the crest of the sand pile it looks as if it will stop. But nope! It goes on to roll down the other side, still charging the ones in white.

Eleithyia tops the feet bouncing, staring towards the dragons that have already made it out. "Oh, I knew that," she tells Romel without looking up at him. "And I suppose that's to be expected during a Pass." She didn't notice any rolling eggs, but she definitely saw the blue. She gives a nervous giggle again, muttering "silly thing," softly. Just in case the clutchdad is listening to them. Eleryn gets to comment. No, actually, Thyia is taking her idea and sliding closer as well. Just in case, right?

"Help me keep an eye out. Injuries. Fainting. That kind of stuff," N'ano replies, giving a wave out towards the candidates in case Lzi's still unsure of what he's talking about. And then he stares… at the rolling egg. And stares some more. "Huh."

S'eron snorts slightly as he helps the first boy up, muttering under his breath, "D'baji would be proud." He's more amused than anything. He rubs his nose as he heads toward the scattering candidates, looking for more injuries. Just think of him as a rodeo clown.
Really. That's his job.

Sadi moves with Merc, so there is no worry there. She hasn't seen the rolling egg truthfully, and it's likely a good thing she hasn't, "But," and there she stops, unable to form complete sentences it would appear.

"Oh. Right. Sure. Yeah, sure," Lzi says, bobbing her head to N'ano before eyes go back to the sands. Awkward.

Taelor keeps his eyes on the rolling egg anxiously, "You think the rolling one is just really hyper and excited to meet us or something?" He makes ready to move if it comes any closer, gently trying to get Micail off of him.

Eleryn is potentially more interested in the rolling egg than in the blues. "Maybe that dragon ought to try moving /outside/ the egg," she suggests dryly, making sure she and her shield-ah, /Eleithyia/ are out of the way.

Micail does loosen his grip somewhat, although he tilts his head to /eye/ Taelor. "Or smash us into pudding. If that's your definition of 'meeting'." He does free his hands though, lifting them to shove his hair away from his face. It's already starting to cling a bit from the sweat.

Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet bobs and weaves through the candidates, looking more like he's playing than actually searching at the moment. Oh. Right. Down to business. The robed people are looked over before he finds one of particular interest. A gray-eyed girl that he finds worthy of investigating further.

Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet's reign of ungainly terror is coming to an end. The dragonet emits a final ear-shattering screech, dropping once more to all fours, the chaos of his underbelly hidden as his eyes find the one who will bring beauty and order to his chaos. The reds and yellows fade from whirling optics, his loping steps joyous as he passes by the candidates beside her to bring his lanky frame up alongside a small, raven-haired girl. Pushing his inky snout forward to be level with the candidate's, Cosmic Rebirth Blue Dragonet stretches out his long wings to bring Eleithyia, his one and only Eleithyia, into his universe.

Ditheran begins to slide away from the egg a bit. Even though it might not even get all the way to the candidates. No point in taking chances, though, right? Some of the candidates around him are scooting away, too. Hearing a screech to the side, he turns to see what's going on. "Congrats, Eleithyia!"

Rukbat's Flare Egg rolls right up to the candidates and right over one set of ten toes. Thrrrump it goes over Romel's feet. And pop! Those must be some serious toenails, because the shell goes crack!
Rukbat's Flare Egg has long housed a smoldering intention. But the heat has increased, the necessity burns now, and the ovoid gives a final violent rock to one side. The shell cracks, forcing radiant flares away from the underlying blues and greens. A few more kicks from within bring about a heated explosion, shards flying out in all directions to reveal an ashy dragonet standing unsteadily in the remains of his egg, the last bits of goo dripping from his charcoal tail.
Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling
Monochromatically ashen, shades of slate dominate this stout little dragonet's shape. Rolls which promise stocky muscle in his future show under iron blue hide so uniform that he might have been powdered with cinders, save where the color crackles away like blackly burnt paint across his ridges and wings and dip his tail charcoal. He resembles a leaden mallow held over the flames a touch too long.

Romel's attention is finally on the rolling egg, now that Iosha mentions it - he hasn't noticed his audience of his adjusting just yet, and instead prepares to move if the egg comes any closer. The first blue to hatch is watched as it inspects … Eleithyia, "Holy ****, congratulations! What's her name?" he demands, ever curious. His sweaty groin is temporarily forgotten in the excitement, and the new blue left unnoticed.

Calm After the Storm Blue Dragonet plods along through the sand, not seeming to pay any attention whatsoever to the rolling escapades of his clutch sibling. If they don't want to pay attention to him, he'll just have to walk right up and introduce himself, now won't he? So, with steady steps, the stormy dragon approaches, lifting his head slightly as he tries to stick his nose right inbetween some of the tightly knit candidates.

N'ano has connected.

Taelor heart speeds up again as he watches the egg approach Thyia. He gives the girl a bright smile along with her new dragon, "I'm glad she Impressed." He shivers in anticipation, the hope that he Impresses this day getting even stronger after watching it happen to another.

"Shards. Maybe I should've put my marks on /all/ blue," Lzi comments to N'ano, folding her arms over her chest as she watches the eggs continue to produce blues.

Iosha squeaks as the egg /hatches/ off Romel's foot. "Sweet Faranth. I think you broke it Romel." She jerks her head towards the newly emerged hatchling so very very close to where they stand. "It wasn't me." She informs the nearest weyrlingmaster innocently before stepping behind Romel, placing him between her and the creepy blue."

Micail blinks, eyes wide as that blue..the first one, anyway, seems to take Thyia. "Oh…/alright/ Eleithyia!" There's a wide grin afterward, both of his hands giving a brief clap together. And then..there's another blue popping right out of a shell. "Blue..after blue..after /blue!/"

Romel also — "OUCH." Okay, that was a lot louder than he's supposed to be, but what the heck? He just got rolled on! Fortunately it was only his foot, and the sand is soft, so no real damage done … but now he's left in a mess. His robe is starting to cling to all *sorts* of parts, now.

Sanura watches the pack from a distance. With the rolling egg now hatched and no longer posing a threat, and one of the dragons having found its lifemate, the girl begins to make her way back to the other candidates, however staying at a distance because there happened to be a very curious blue dragon nearby.

Mercutio watches the egg rolling down the sands, and shuffles nervously again, but it's past them now. He doesn't miss thyia's impression, though, and grins widely. "Did thyia just impress?" He asks aloud, and then grins wider. "She did. Go Eleithyia!" He says, offering her a few claps before turning his attention back to the other two blues. "Three blues in a row, what're the chances." He asks, raising his eyebrow at romel.

Ditheran stops shifting away as the rolling egg stops rolling… and breaks open. "Good save, Romel!" is called out. At least it didn't roll over any more than feet.

Eleryn doesn't get to snicker at Romel for long. "Congratulations, Eleithyia!" she calls, looking suitably surprised that the Igenite Impressed. This leaves her rather exposed, and she shuffles over to join Sadi and Mercutio. Each little blue triggers a little more nervousness in her expression.

"Oh, the little one," D'baji practically coos as Nverath's first dragon-bebe impresses. "Well done, Eleithyia," is called out in parade-grounds voice. And then a glance to the new egg. And the fallen candidate. And what does D'baji take from all this? "Faranth, another blue."

Eleithyia finally pulls her gaze away from the dragons at Eleryn's comment. "What?" She asks, but doesn't need to wait for an answer. Rolling eggs! Her jaw drops, and she bumps back into Eleryn again. Who's really the shield here? But her attention on the egg is pulled away quickly, which is rather difficult to do. Cause really, eggs just don't roll like that everyday! A screech brings her attention forward, only to find herself face to face with whirling eyes. Her jaw still dropped, she closes it and licks her lips before testing her voice.. "Phthongoth?" She stares a moment longer, letting it sink. "Right, together, of course Phthongoth."

Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling comes out upside down and blinks up at whoever it was that just /kicked/ him. And he's shouting at him! How mean! He flops around a little—and what is this thing looped around his neck? Tail. Right. He wobbles to his feet, turns his back on the one with the icky toenails, and looks around for the right one.

Pippa blinks owlishly at the scrambled dragonet that seems to be rather upside down. She blinks again for good measure and then elbows one of the candidates next to her, "See that look in its eyes… bet you anything it is Micail's." Sagenod.

Romel just sort of … stares at the blue at his feet, barely hearing Thyia announce her new lifemate's name. And he so did not kick the hatchling! Backing up suddenly, icky toenails and all, he gets away from the little blue lest the weyrlingmasters think he's going to do something to it. "Shoo, that way." The last thing he needs is to be run over with talons.

Iosha frowns. "The brat impressed?" She mutters to herself before using her more pleasant social voice. "Congratulations!" Yeah she's a caring individual. And then it's back to watching the blues and the eggs and making sure that Romel is between her and any potential danger.

Ditheran turns to Pippa, who just elbowed him. All his shifting around has put him in a new spot. "Yeah, I agree," he says, grinning. "It would've been funny if he were Romel's, though."

A Memorable Disaster egg gives a shudder as its inhabitant sets to breaking through the shell. Through that tree-like cloud of ash comes - not a blue! No, a dark bronze rolls out, with neckridges dusted with ash, and talons looking as though they've walked through volcanic mud. There's none of this flitting about and looking for him; he has a plan. A young man, just eighteen, with curly hair is picked out, and Ocarisar - now C'sar - gives a shout of, "Augustuth!"
Sadi just stands in place picking one foot up then the other and looking ready to faint. She does have Mercutio to break her fall if she does faint after all.

Taelor can't help but giggle inside at Romel, but doesn't let anythnig show on the outside except interest in the blue that's come over to the candidate side of the sands in such an amusing and tiny bit scary way. "Poor Romel. I wonder how much one of these eggs weigh?"

Micail turns his head a little, looking down the line of candidates just a little way..in order to stare at Pippa. ..And Ditheran for that matter. "What's that supposed to mean?" He gets the loopy, bowling ball one? His head shakes then..before he blinks at the sudden hatching and impressing of a bronze. "Hey!"

Eleryn's eyebrow raises right up. "That's a mouthful of a name, isn't it? At least I'll get around that. No dragon's that crazy," she ends up telling Mercutio, the moment before a blue dragon starts poking his nose into things, namely things with white robes on. She shifts around, trying to anticipate the blue's movements.

Calm After the Storm Blue Dragonet sniffs upwards towards one girl's skirt, and then blows air out of his nose. Something certainly didn't smell right there, that's for sure. His whip-chord tail lashes once, seeming momentarily confused as he stops to stare at a group of white robed figures, then moves closer for further inspection.

Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling is getting /shoo'd/! Of all the rude… He sniffs and flaps those dark things stuck on his back. Wings. Right, then. He folds them up for easier travelling, and heads toward a likely-looking candidate. A nice blonde boy. Who shouts! Nope. Wrong one. Definitely not the right one.

Ditheran raises an eyebrow towards Pippa. "Augustuth? Phthongoth? Oh, dear." He grins. "I prefer the short and simple names, myself." The other dragonets get his attention then, just incase one's heading in this general direction.

Romel doesn't seem impressed at being a meat-shield for Iosha, but it'll do. "No it wouldn'tve," he says to Ditheran with a smirk, hinting he's hoping for something bigger. As the first bronze hatches and impresses quickly, he seems a mite crestfallen at this, but offers his congratulations to the new pair, anyways. As the blue who hatched at his feet trundles off, he relaxes slightly. "I like simple names too, Ditheran."

Sadi is still keeping her eyes on the dragons, and was that a bronze that just hatched? Gulp. She is no longer worried about the other candidates, well except for Mercutio of course, he's her clinging post after all.

Icefire Egg quivers. But it's just a tease.

Mercutio gives a nod at eleryn as she makes her way over to them, offering her a nervous grin. "I suppose." He replies, grinning. "What if yours is crazier?" Then a nervous look is offered to sadi, "You okay?" he asks, concerned. He waggles his arm a bit, to make sure she's still consious.

Pippa arcs a dark brow at Ditheran, and then breaks into a dimpled grin, "Well…. I suppose those dragons just have so much going for them they simply can't be defined with a name like… Joeth." Yeah, Joeth. She shrugs her shoulders, and then glances after the others.

Calm After the Storm Blue Dragonet swishes his tail as he walks past a pair of candidates without paying them much heed, stopping only when something draws his attention. His head lifts, nose twitching as if catching some distant scent on the warm air of the hatching sands. He takes one step in the direction of the smell, and only then notices the remaining piece of eggshell still attached to his ankle. Curling his head around towards his flanks, the blue gives his rear leg a shake, sending the russet shard towards a boy with mouse-brown hair. Curiously, the dragon moves towards him, head tilted as he looks down at the shell, then up into Mercutio's green eyes. His grayed nose reaches out to nudge the boy's hand, claiming this one as his own.

Iosha is a tease as well as she steps a little closer to Romel and clutches his arm. "I bet you'd make an excellent bronze rider." Yep she's still nervous and lying compulsively. But alas it was not meant to be and Augustuth impresses that Oscar guy. "Congratulations." She calls out again. She'll just pop out congratulations at random from now on.

Taelor eyes the new bronze rider closly, for some reason not entirely sure of his name. "Okay…so that's three blues and a bronze by now right?" He turns around to watch the second blue approach Mercutio and waves to get the other boys attention, "Congratulations!"

Relentless Lahar Egg gives a shudder as its only signal before the shell simply begins to disintegrate. Gooey liquid spills forth from the top, mixing with a cascade of tiny pieces and rushing away from the form with in at an amazing speed. The mess mixes with the sand and starts to push it away, leaving the dragonet in the slight impression of the mess's wake, the brownish form stretching and unwinding to its full length.
Different Time and Place Brown Dragonet
White tipped peaks grace the brown ridges that run down his neck, along his back and down his tail. Thin, wispy lines of ochre and henna begin at the base of the icy caps and create even striation across the base of the ridges and spreading out over his shoulders. His head, sleek in shape and rounded in muzzle, rests on a short neck, the thick band of muscles wrapped in dark, burnt brown. Mahogany tinted eyeridges sweep back, lending a devious or perhaps dapper look to his expression. Beginning at the base of his throat, a splash of bright white sand sprays across his chest and down his flanks, sweeping across his elongated and bellowing wingsails. The splash of brightness out shines all else on his body, making his ridges look very small and distant. His hide is pebbled in such a way that the markings seem realistic, showing texture as well as depth. Beyond the wings, the body and legs are attenuated; thinning out as they stretch back. The pattern dissolves into darkness on his exceptionally elongated black tail and onyx claws.

Micail lets out a positively delighted sound as one of the blues goes to Mercutio, reaching to give Taelor's arm a light tug. "Look! It got Mercutio!" ..In a good way. Obviously. But since Taelor is already /looking/ there, he lets go easily enough, grinning quite happily at the entire thing. "Congratulations, Merc!"

L'nin and his minions are busily leading the newly-impressed from the sands. C'sar and Augustuth are taken by an AWLM. M'erc is approached by the weyrlingmaster himself. "Come on. We'll get him some food." Almost a pleasantry as he reaches to tap the new bluerider's shoulder, before heading toward the edge of the sands, expecting the pair to follow.

Eleryn shakes her head at Mercutio. "I doubt a — never mind. Yay, Mercutio! Or whatever," she finishes, edging over to Sadi. Their mutual cling post is rather busy now. "And we finally have some more color. No greens, though, that's surprising." She goes back to watching Icefire Egg with narrowed eyes. Tease, indeed.

Romel's eyes go dark as Mercutio impresses - it seems he hasn't forgotten the other boy siding with Micail during the cave-sleepover. "Congrats," he manages to say, at least in the spirit of things. Suddenly aware he's got a girl clutching to his arm, he looks at Iosha with the most goofiest grin he could possibly have and leans into her, "Y'think? It's what I was hopin' for." Aw, he thought she was actually giving him a sincere compliment.

Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling noses toward a girl who is congratulating…him? No, not him, someone else. He turns back in the other direction, and noses along the limbs available to him. What are they? Hands? Right. And feet. But he doesn't like those, and raises his nose to sniff along robes, instead. Where /is/ the right one? Wait, was that her? No, she said 'green.' He's not green…is he?

Sadi squeaks as the blue hatchling steals her clinging post… er Mercutio away from her and quickly finds another candidate to cling to. Poor Micail to be suddenly besieged by a frieghtened Sadi.

Sanura stared idly at the dragonets, standing still once more. She had nodded kindly at Mercutio, who was at that time being led away. Her gaze turned back to the eggs again.

Micail finds himself gaining a sudden..attachment. "Huh-what?" He stares just a little bit at Sadi, blinking for a moment at the girl before he simply lets her cling to him. "Um..are you okay?" He gives his arm a slight wave. Maybe he can dislodge her.

Taelor tilts his head to look around Micail and Sadi, "You alright there Sadi?" He smirks just a tiny bit, finding it great payback for Micail to be clung to now after not letting him go for so long. His arm was just starting to loose it's ache.

Ditheran grins and claps for Mercutio. "Congradulations!" he yells out. Three blues hatched and all Impressed, that quickly. That must be an omen of some sort.

Mercutio grins, wildly, as he reaches his hand out to scratch a grayed eyeridge. "Brothers?" He asks absently, "Sure." Then louder, for everyone to hear: "His name is Hydasnth!" And then back to the dragon in front of him, "And now, food." And with that, they follow L'nin off the sands.

Iosha smirks back up at him. "Yeah. Like N'ano." Cos she has miles and miles of respect for N'ano. "Hey look a brown." She points out for Romel's perusal. "He's rather pretty with all that lighter darker stuff going on." She'll just keep on clinging however. It's fun.

Different Time and Place Brown Dragonet streeeeeetches out, his front end slithering forward as his back end hops back, that long spine stuck inside a confined spacek for far too long. He lifts his head and starts to look around, eyeing his brothers on the sands and tilting his head to the side. The smaller figures are noticed moments later, his eyes narrowing as he does. The brown finally gives a squawk in annoyance since everyone seems to be paying more attention to the other dragonets and not paying enough attention to him! He huffs and moves from his crater across the sands, shaking nasty shelly-sandy goo from his foot-claws as he moves. Ew.

Romel can't decide if Iosha's being sarcastic or serious, because there's way too much going on. So, for now, he'll ignore it and continue leaning into the girl, because it probably makes him feel special. "Well, Mercutio's oddly … calm," he observes to Iosha before his eyes go to the remaining hatchlings and eggs on the sands. The brown is eyed, "The white on him looks neat."

Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling finds what he's looking for at last! But wait…he's not being paid attention to. Hey! He presses his charcoal muzzle against his chosen one's hand and peers up at him. Why is he looking at that other boy and girl?

No. No no. Definitely no. Wildfires Ashes Blue Hatchling continues to look over the candidates, flapping his wings in irritation of not being able to find the one. The patent blue /finally/ stops to further investigate a taller, blonde-haired boy who seems to hold potential. Yes. This one will do. His quest over, that's where the blue stops. At his Taelor.

Pippa drags her eyes away from the hatching dragons and instead she looks over to where some of her fellow candidates are impressing. She breaks out into another wide grin as someone finds their new lifemate. So much to watch out for!

Eleryn limps her crispy-footed way over to Sadi, which leads to a Micail, as well. What fun. "Loud brown, that," she says quietly. "Be careful, Micail. He might walk away and kick you. Oh, congratulations, Taelor!" She doesn't even bat an eye at Micail.

Iosha leans over to take a look at Mercutio and Hydasnth. "He's in shock. He's probably right on the verge of fainting or something." She answers Romel. "Congratulations!" She offers randomly once more. "Ow!" She exclaims. "I like the white, I don't like the voice." She winces, and shuffles some more."

Scorched Savannah Egg shivers, shudders, and cracks. Out comes a brown, dripping in goop. He can't sit still, but gets moving with a bit of a limp, wandering past a few lines of candidates before he finds his chosen: Dulain. The latter drops to one knee, cleaing some egg goo from the dragonet's headnobs, having reached some sort of Nirvana, staring into those eyes, as he pronounces, "Lamath!" And
D'lai leads Lamath from the sands.

Ditheran blinks as a whirlwind of events sees two more weyrlings Impress. He barely has time to congradulate one before the next Impresses. "It's kinda hard to follow everything!" is yelled to Pippa over the noise.

Taelor stands shock still for a moment, staring at his dragon before snapping out of it and holding out his hands in a placating matter to his dragon with a wide grin, "Slow down, slow down." He looks at around himself for whoever leads him to get food for his dragon, "His name is Kayganoth." He says it just loud enough for the closest candidates to hear, still in awe.

Micail stiffens faintly as Eleryn comes on over, his own eyes narrowing in irritation at her. He doesn't say anything though, foot giving a slight shuffle in the sand. Kickkick… There's a sigh, however, before he tries to pry Sadi's grip just a bit..looser, ignoring everything else for just a bit. "Sadi, my arm needs it's circulation."

Romel echoes everyone's congratulations for Taelor before looking exasperated, "Man! What's with all the strange names?" Either way, it's yet another blue that has gotten a 'mate. "What's left?" he asks absently, scanning the sands once more, and eyeing the brown.

D'baji leans up against Nverath's leg now. Aww, they impress so fast… "Blue, blue, blue, bronze, brown… brown… right?" The weyrleader holds up his fingers, counting them over, peering toward the weyrlingmasters who are still ferrying candidates from the sands.

Icefire Egg hisses as fissures appear on it's surface. Small streams of steam issue forth, as if what's inside is hotter than the icy exterior. Splinters create circular patches in the hard shell as limbs stretch to be free. All four feet appear first, bursting from restraint at the same time, the shell shards between the legs cracking at the pressure. A line almost perfect bisects the remaining portion that rests on the young green's back, the two halves sticking to goo-coated wings as they stretch outward, finally finding purchase to do so. She gives a shake and olive hide is revealed as the shards are flung away from her body, her neck curling upward and examining the world.
Post-Apocalyptic Pioneer Green Dragonet
Bright olivine lights caress gorgeous curves, sleek over compact musculature. Her features' cast is exotic, yet earthy still: subtle shadings of gold dust over upswept eyeridges, shimmering into tempered bronze along the sweep of a short, svelt neck. Beauty masks danger, pulling attention away from wickedly curving talons, from powerfully muscled limbs and tail; instead it is drawn to the wide fan of wings, gold-edged peridot that glitters 'tween olive-bronze 'spars.

Iosha shurgs. "How am I supposed to know?" She asks Romel in return. "Want me to tug on a dragons leg and ask?" She quirks a brow. It's not likely to happen however, given that would mean she'd have to stop clinging to Romel. "My feet are really hot." She makes the most fascinating announcement to Romel.

Into the Mud Egg shivers, shudders, boils, and pops! And out rolls another green dragonet. She blinks, looks up, looks down, and heads into the candidates. Not this one. Not that one. Maybe this girl. No. Maybe that one! No. Ahah! She latches onto a tall young man with dark hair, who drops to curl his arms around the dragonet's neck. "She says her name is Soylenth," Gareen says—now G'reen.

Eleryn doesn't pay the slightest bit of further attention to Micail, aside from a pronounced smirk. She narrows her eyes again, this time in concetration, shaping the latest name silently on her lips. Her gaze moves away from the newest pair and over to the eggs. "Oh, my …" It takes a green to awe an Eleryn.

Different Time and Place Brown Dragonet grins about as well as a dragonet can, his audience starting to amuse him. The moment is short lived though. A glance toward the parental dragons answers the nagging feeling in his stomach. He looks back at the small creatures with renewed determination, needing to find one. He starts walking in front of the lines, slowly making a circuit among the groups, not pausing to sniff or sense, but just eying candidates as he passes. Moments later, he starts his second loop, still looking.

Pippa grins across to Ditheran, blinking at him a moment and then bobbing her head to him in agreement. "That it is," she drawls, before looking back over to the cracking eggs. Yep, there is still some there.

Micail just rolls his eyes a little after a moment, his attention shifting back to where it should be. That is, if he doesn't want to get trampled or something by a wayward dragonet. Or egg, for that matter. Brows arch upward, however, giving the brown a bit of a stare..as well as the pair of greens that burst from shells.
Sanura follows the green dragon with her own same colored eyes, starting to come loose a little in posture. She takes a step back, trying to get a little away from the little one since it seemed quite indecisive.

Romel adjusts himself once more, having not done that in the past … what, minute? Stupid cotton, stupid heat. One green on the sands, another hatched and impress, more congratulations are sent, and Iosha just gets a little laugh. "Yeah, why don't you go do that? Ask 'em who's left." He stiffens as the brown dragonet does his 'rounds on the candidates, still eyeing it. The green is given a glance and he shifts his weight, growing nervous as the candidate numbers begin to dwindle.

Volcanic Maelstrom Egg quakes, bumps and jumps from the sands. Then it lies still. Preparation is key. With a rocking heave, it rolls twice towards the candidates, end over end, before splitting right down the middle. Expelled from the egg, a splindly green falls forward, nearly into the lap of a young man from the Harper Hall. Surfobin gives a shriek of terror that soon turns to a, "EEEeeee… uh?" Minstrelth has made her choice. S'robin is not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp. At least… not yet. He needs a new robe first.

Sadi just allows herself to be pulled, pushed and prodded wherever as she tries hard to keep from fainting at the sight of all those hatchlings. Yeah, she's scared alright, and Micail isn't much help. With her luck, he'll get stollen away too.

Iosha releases one hand from Romel's arm to wave it airily. "I can't be bothered. I'm lazy." She answers, her eyes keeping an eye on the hatchlings eggs and Romel's robe. She has very busy eyes obviously.

S'robin impresses. There is much rejoicing from the candidates around him. And there is L'nin, going up with a disdainful look to the candidate. "Meat. This way."

Post-Apocalyptic Pioneer Green Dragonet does not wait long to do that examination. There is too much to do. A flick of the tail gets the last of the hard shell off her body, then she steps forward. Ginger progress carries her away from the shell, and a tiny wobble gives away her newborn state, but she is focused. Now, to task. Whirling eyes regard the figures before her. She'll start over there, by the olive-toned boy. Hmm… maybe not.

Eleryn continues to hover by Sadi and Micail for the sake of hovering, but her green eyes are for, well, a green. "I'd wondered when we'd get a green, and that one is gorgeous," she comments, not caring if she ends up talking to herself. "She'd still have to be crazy," she murmurs, softer, and amusement tinges her expression again.

Romel only *just now* notices Iosha's facination with his adjustments, and … doesn't particularly seem to mind, at all! In fact, he gives a few unnecessary shifts and lets the robe cling a little more before he pulls it back again. The green and brown are watched with growing intensity, Iosha is leaned into more for comfort, and cue the beginnings of moping as his hope dwindles.

Searching the rest of the candidate ranks seems pointless once the Different Time and Place brown Dragonet catches sight of one in particular. His attention is immediately fixated by one heck of a shiner, causing him to slow his pace, but he doesn't stop walking yet. His head has to crank to one side as he studies the blue-eyed, blond candidate a little closer. He continues to move, his head directing him in a turn that takes him face to face, or rather, face to legs with the candidate in question, almost as if he were sizing him up. Is he really as tough as he seems? He tilts his head to the side a little as he examines Micail and waits… just waits.

Ditheran claps for Micail when the brown seems to stop in front of him. "Congradulations!" is yelled out. Turning to Pippa, he comments, "They're almost all done now, aren't they? It's been going fast."

Iosha smirks up at Romel, her eyes twinkling and her eyebrows arched. Mope not Romel, there is hope yet! Iosha seems thawed by the heat of the hatching caverns. One way or another Romel is likely to get lucky. "So…Oh my." She breathes. "Congratulations Mickey!!" Look its a genuine congratulations.

Frozen Wastelands Egg is shaken again by an inner force, rolling a bit to the side, and hanging a moment, suspended at the edge of its mound of sand. A final push from within sends the egg rolling down into a trench, whence the shadowed banks of the shell are broken by a point of golden sunlight. The dragon's head gives another heave, causing the shell to split, the cold tones melting away to reveal an awkward and golden-bronze dragonet clawing his way out of the crevice in the sands.
Post-Revolution Proletarian Bronze Dragonet
Golden bronze blossoms over an awkward, ill-wrought form; mellifluous, and uniform in both tint and hue, that aurous colour climbs over the angles and planes of a sharp-featured head, creeps across jagged 'ridges, and curls over a long and rawboned tail. Shoulders, knees, even the joints of his toes gleam, knobby and unabashedly bared to the light by his sheer gauntness. The sheen is lost in shadows cast by the stark lines of a lean underbelly and lanky limbs, his wiry musculature half-obscured by the angles of his weedy frame. Wings are near obscene in their size, massive pinions of dulled and darkened caramel fanning out from square shoulders, forcing the sun-gilded limbs and flanks of that meager body to a penumbral plane.

Sadi squeaks as she spots the brown and quickly stops clinging to him. The traitor, or maybe not. She still isn't going to cling to Micail any longer. One never knows about dragons after all.

Micail wasn't really paying too much attention, what with all those other dragons popping out of eggs in places. But then, there happens to be a brown at his feet, and he just../blinks/, staring at the dragonet in a bit of surprise. "Wh..huh?" Well hey, let him gawk for a moment. Hands do reach out then, stroking gently across the brown's neck before he nods again. "Y..yeah, okay. You can. He's Giavistoth!"

Post-Apocalyptic Pioneer Green Dragonet steps to the side to get a better look at the first candidate. No. Definitely not. She starts to study the young girl standing next to him, but then her head shakes a little. Cants to the side. Her eyes cast quickly over the others. There was something… there. The green dragonet takes a few hesitant steps towards a group of candidates, then with more surity increases the pace. There was something here. Something worth her attention.

Romel clears his throat and straightens, especially after Micail impresses. /Great/, but at least that boy didn't wind up on a randy little green, a proddy Micail is definitely not something he probably wants to see in his lifetime. As the bronze hatches, hope is suddenly resored in the boy, and he edges forward - dragging Iosha along with him - in some kind of effort to bring himself to the front of the slowly-dwindling pack of candidates. "Man, he's gorgeous." Watch it, you'll get drool on your robes there, Romel.

Eleryn steps back to avoid getting stepped on by Sadi, staring with some disbelief at Micail and Giavistoth. "You're kidding me, right? Uh … congratulations!" she says, louder, sounding mostly genuine. The bronze gets an brief, appreciative look, and then the green is watched. "Is, ah, she coming this way?"

Eleryn eyes Sadi, also. "Maybe she's coming your way. Because there isn't a dragon who could handle me," she adds, torn between calculating and smirking.
N'ano has connected.

Iosha is dragged along with Romel. "Whoa boy. Stand. Stay." She commands, sensing she is loosing his attention. Figures. "I thought girls where gorgeous and boys were rugged." She comments, but doesn't exactly expect an answer. Micail gets a finger wiggle as he and Giavistoth join the segregated impressee's.

Sadi just stares at the green hatchling and sincerely hopes she isn't headed towards her and Eleryn. Yet somehow she can't help but think the hatchling is doing just that and so she steps away from Eleryn just in case. Sadi pales noticeably at that thought. Oh, gee, thanks. You've just made her day.

Post-Revolution Proletarian Bronze Dragonet hauls himself from the trench, giving his scrawny self a shake. Wings are stretched out - and they begin to overbalance him, the little bronze tilting very much to one side, and indeed falling to his left hip. There's a creel of distress. How embarrassing. A look is shot to a few candidates, and then that big wing is used to hide his face as he rights himself.

Ditheran can't help but grin sa the bronze dragonet tips himself over, then tries to hide his face with a wing. "They're awfuly cute, aren't they?" he asks Pippa.

Child of the Tropics Egg has been moving for some time now, if slowly. Back and forth. There's a rhythm. Always a rhythm. At last, the tide turns, and the rocking ends to make way for cracks instead. A goo-covered claw breaks out of the shell, pushing, pulling, clawing until a dark green head peeks out. That's all the momentum she needs. With a heave, the dragonet bursts from the shell. Without a backwards glance, she weaves over the black sands and along the line of candidates, barely missing a collision with her bronze brother. At last, she comes to rest in front of young Joan. "Baezth!" the girl cries out, suddenly crying and laughing, and not caring if she looks silly as she wraps her arms around the sticky green neck.

Pippa smiles faintly at Ditheran, "I suppose, if you look past the awkwardness and goo and slime and sand and everything, they can be." She loosk rather wry as she says it, flickering a worried glance to the remaining eggs and hatchings.

Romel looks sorely torn. Girl or bronze. Girl or bronze. The bronze falls, and Romel looks pained, as if he wants to go help it. He stays still for now, obeying Iosha's commands. "Dragons can be gorgeous, I s'pose." In a manly sort of way, of course.

Iosha rolls her eyes. "Sure. If you say so." It's kinda like taking a girl out somewhere and ignoring her for a car. Io is not impressed, but she's also a little forgiving. The green is eyed, as is the brown. She's not taking any chances now that the pool of potential talent is shrinking.

Post-Apocalyptic Pioneer Green Dragonet finishes her examination of the candidate before her and moves on once more, her expression schooled and hopeful, though the air of disappointment marks her walking pace. Eventually, she comes upon a candidate with long, dark hair that causes her to pause. She plants her hindquarters on the hot sand and begins to stare the female down, her eyes narrowing then widening in delight. She bows her head and closes her eyes, giving the candidate a nod before she moves around to Eleryn's side and leans against her adoringly.

Post-Revolution Proletarian Bronze Dragonet attempts to fold those gargantuan wings along his back, neck craning to watch what little progress he's managing to make. He does find a balance, finally, on those knobby legs. He also finds himself alone, the last unimpressed dragon on the sands. But this is not a thing to be rushed. He makes his way carefully toward one boy, steps awkward. No, no, not you. Moving self-consciously, he passes to the next…

Eleryn's face goes completely slack with surprise, her mouth hanging open for a long moment before she snaps it shut with some consternation. "You … you're not serious! Except … food. Right. Advisable. And … Eryn, Imadrith? Food, right." Imadrith, it seems, broke something. For a moment, it seems more like the green is leading the newly-dubbed Eryn to the food, not the other way around.

D'baji reaches back to offer a pat to the bronze leg upon which he leans. "Last bronze. Seen this before, eh?" is sent mostly to his lifemate. Nevermind that Nverath couldn't possibly remember. The weyrleader's eyes are intent on the little one as he sets to inspecting the candidates. There's only a passing nod as Plat'o comes to help Eryn and Imadrith off to the food.

Iosha tugs gently on Romel's arm. "So. What are your plans after this?" She asks coyly, she's smart enough to know that with the green out of the picture she has no chance of impression. "Congratulations." Yeah another heart-felt random congratulations is offered and she's shuffling boredly.

Romel doesn't seem phased by Iosha, focusing on the bronze like it's a shiny new Mustang straight from the factory, complete with upgrades! But.. but, Iosha tears him away, "What? Oh, probably jus' going back to the stables. Taking care of the horses." More leaning - it's a wonder he doesn't topple over on her by now. "Why'dyou ask?"

The gaunt little bronze stumbles on a ridge, spraying hot black sand toward a tall, rangy man. This man captures his attention, far more than the sand shower. The first steps are exploratory. The final step that brings the bronze into a lean against the man's leg is solid. There can be no question, as Post-Revolution Proletarian Bronze Dragonet gazes into the man's hazel eyes, that Romel is his chosen.

Iosha smirks smugly up at Romel. "Oh, I was thinking about stealing off with some wine, find some quiet secluded place, possibly with some friendly comp….Oh Shards!" She drops his arms like a hot potato. "I guess I should congratulate you." She snaps, she's just been out sparkled, all that work for nothing.

Ditheran cheers for Romel as he Impresses to the bronze. "Congradulations!" he yells. Then peers around the sands… is that all of them?

Sadi blinks as the last of the dragons finds his match which seems to be her cue to just fall down. What a ride that was, but now it's over and she can go home. She's not rider type after all it would seem and she's very glad of that.

Pippa blinks for a long moment, and then flashes Romel a dimpled grin as now he impresses. Amazing who those dragons actually pick out. She smirks faintly, reaching up to drag fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. Sort of at a loss now, the girl wobbles back and forth upon her sandled feet. "Well, huh…"

"Oh Faranth," greets Romel's impression. The weyrleader casts a glance around the sands finding all the eggs hatched, the sands smeared with goo. "Congratulations," is called to Romel, before he's motioning for the remaining candidates to gather together, with broad sweeps of hairy arms. Official speech time. "This clutch has hatched, and your dragons weren't here this time. Possible they'll be clutched in the future, possible it's simply not meant t'be. Your restrictions as candidates are hereby lifted. You're welcome to stay at the weyr, or, if you wish, you may return to your homes. We will provide transportation for you. There will be a celebration in the caverns, which you're welcome to attend once you've changed."

Romel wavers, thankful that Iosha is rightthere, because he nearly falls over. He makes a choking noise, and as Iosha drops his arm, he grabs her and dares give her cheek a flirtatious smooch. His life just changed and he /still/ tries to keep her by? "You keep that thought in mind," he mumbles quickly before he releases her, staring at his dragon. "You're kidding me. R'ell? That doesn't sound /anything/ like my nam— okay, fine. Fine!" Realizing that only he knows his bronze's name, he says, "Sunevoth." It's a breathless moment before he leaves Iosha behind, leading the dragon to meat.

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