HOME FIRES MISTS LIFEBLOOD SPOKES
Igen Weyr Hatching Grounds - Stands(#228RJa$) These observation bleachers, hewn from the sandstone which surrounds the entire cavern, span the length of the western wall of the Igen Weyr Hatching Grounds. The cavern is of a tremendous size, stretching something like 10 dragonlengths up to its apex, and having a diameter of roughly 20 dragonlengths. The walls and roof are of rough stone, with long spires of lime hanging down. Just out from the bleachers, an opening gapes to the sky overhead, providing light and air for the dome. There are stairs at one end leading out towards the Bowl. One may simply 'observe object' to see an object on the sands. Contents: Catalina Lyndra T'dry Everin Obvious exits: SAnds Bowl Jaegon jogs in at a rapid pace, cloak flapping in the cold desert night. "Weyrwoman, T'dry. I was checkng on Siara. I apologize for being late." T'dry spins to scowl at at Jaegon. "I'm /not/ a weyrwoman, Jaegon." Catalina rubs her offended foot as she takes a seat in the front, muttering something about having a bruise for a sevenday. She crosses the leg with the injured toe over the other, her foot bouncing around a bit in anticipation. On the Sands, Faerysa laughs merrily, rocking back on Irianth's foreleg. "It could be amusing," she calls. Everin's attention strays from the sands, marks Jaegon, and he sitsup. "How is she?" Jaegon tries not to laugh at T'dry's misunderstanding. "Sorry, Tan. Don't know what hit me. Too much numbweed fume exposure in the infirmary, maybe." Jaegon glances to Everin and smiles. "Much better. She's thinking straight now." Isolated by her aloofness and physical distance from the others (some dozen or so feet), Lyndra allows Faerysa's laughter to bleed bits of her attentiveness from the eggs, curiosity asserting itself. Everin snorts. "Numbweed," he mutters, then clears his expression. "Well, good. No more talk about ... what I said the other day?" Jaegon motions to T'dry and mouths "Later" to Everin. On the Sands, Faerysa gives Irianth /and/ vroth a scowl; sighs. "Fine, fine," she mutters. "I suppose," she calls, speaking up, "that I should let you come onto the Sands to touch them. Since they're getting harder now." T'dry gives the candidates a quizzical look, but appears distracted by an unheard conversation. "WELL?" He calls over to Faerysa, then stands and heads to the sands. T'dry steps down onto the sands. On the Sands, T'dry walks over from the bleachers. Everin flushes then tips his head in acknowledgement. The weyrwoman's words can't come too soon. Jaegon follows Tan, after dumping his cloak on a bench. Lyndra hears Faerysa but the meaning doesn't settle, apparently, because she's simply not moving. You step down onto the sands. Igen Weyr Hatching Grounds - Sands(#1045RJQa$) An immense, vaulting expanse hollowed out of the rock serves as Igen's hatching cavern; uncannily hot, even the air lies thick and heavy in one's lungs. The gritty, black sand shifts beneath each burning footstep, as unsettling as it is uncomfortable, and its dark hue makes it difficult to discern the subtle changes in its surface. The arched entry tunnel is wide, leaving enough room for dragons to fly through it with relative ease, and the tiers of broad ledges provide space enough for far more than the Weyr's entire complement of dragons. Igen's galleries huddle against the west wall, raised several meters above the vast swath of sand below. Contents: T'dry Faerysa Avroth Irianth(#11790IJQaeps$) Nature's Precipice Egg Grace Denied Egg Unblemished Bystander Egg Desert Mirage Egg Daybreak's Thrall Egg Cozied Quilt Egg Moonlit Tranquility Egg Dusk's Gloaming Egg Obvious exits: Up STands In the bleachers, Catalina quietly rises to her feet, following the others. She looks petrified. In the bleachers, Everin pauses. "Lyndra." In the bleachers, Catalina steps down onto the sands. Catalina walks over from the bleachers. In the bleachers, Everin says "We're going." Jaegon stops at the edge of the sands, waiting for Irianth and Avroth's reactions. Faerysa looks antsy, but: "Come on down. She's fine with it." Rysa's the one who bites. In the bleachers, Lyndra hmms? at Everin, raising her chin from its propped position on her knee. "We're going where?" In the bleachers, Everin's expression shifts again, then he crossclamps his jaw. "Onto the sands. To touch the eggs. Come on." He does. In the bleachers, Everin steps down onto the sands. Everin walks over from the bleachers. Irianth doesn't mind; in fact, she lifts her head and gives a low croon. protective, but not... threatened. Although she eyes her mate askance. Jaegon approaches the clutch, grinning at Irianth. "Hey, you two do GOOD work," he comments, surveying the eggs. Everin hesitates on the stairs, not yet on the sands, and waits. T'dry turns around, a quizzical look at the candidates. "Is it OK if they come, Rysa?" He calls, striding towards the goldrider. Catalina stops right behind Jaegon, peering around him nervously. In the bleachers, Quin climbs into the stands. Faerysa holds a warding hand up. 'Just wait a moment, wait a moment. " Pause. "They can come, I suppose," she sighs. "But stay ther euntil I tell you to come closer!" In the bleachers, Lyndra unfolds herself and rises, descending the stairs toward the sands but not particularly anxious to broach the invisible barrier between the eggs (and their dam) and herself. Avroth rubs against the side of Irianth's neck, then turns to look at the candidates, eyes whirling a pleasant blue. Jaegon stops in his tracks, about two paces into the sands. Catalina blinks at Faerysa, her eyes widening. She was scared enough already, but this doesn't seem to be helping much. She quickly stumbles backwards several steps, biting her lower lip. Everin stays on the stairs, yes, he does. Well, perhaps one more riser down... Faerysa says irritably, "Come down here if you're goign to, Lyndra. I don't want to shout." Jaegon murmurs to Catalina "It's not too bad. Look at their eyes." He's obeying the weyrwoman, though, having no urge to see those head-size orbs turn red. In the bleachers, Lyndra steps down onto the sands. Lyndra walks over from the bleachers. T'dry shakes his head. "Ah, cripes, Rysa. Irianth already told Avroth it was OK. What's there to wait for?" Lyndra doesn't hesistant. That tone of Faerysa goes straight up her spine. Catalina nods at Jaegon, looking at Irianth and Avroth warily. She wouldn't ordinarily be intimdated by their presences, but something is different here. Avroth stands, flicking sand from his wings. A soft *chuff* is snorted at Everin, then he circles slowly behind Irianth to flank the clutch from the other side. Everin blinks calmly ... and takes the last riser onto the sands, after Lyndra this time. He edges forward towards the group. Stops. Faerysa bounces lightly on her heels. "Well, you can;'t just let them rush up to them," she says reasonably -- or not so -- to T'dry. As if they would anyway. She turns towards the candidates. 'I suppose I should let you touch them," she starts without grace, "but be careful. Don't run, or push, or really tap or anything like that. be gentle with them. If we tell you to move, move!" Catalina nods obediently, but doesn't move a muscle, waiting for someone else to take the first step. Jaegon nods to Rysa respectfully. In this, long as they've known each other, she's the boss. He makes his way slowly over to the egg that's drawn him for so long: the Moonlight egg. At his pace, at takes him a while to get there. Faerysa moves to the side, edging a bit unhappily, and watchful. "Go on." Lyndra nods to Faerysa and gives Irianth and Avroth nervous smiles that transcend into tenative bows to each. That done, she sidles toward the forlorn, beige and grey egg as if to give it companionship at last. T'dry stands next to Faerysa. An arm slides around her waist. Catalina takes a deep breath and begins to shuffle across the sands, her eyes locking on Daybreak's Thrall. She's nervous, yes, but intrigued. (Jae's favorite egg) A floating landscape smoothes the surface of this mid-sized egg like a blanket of clouds, all reflecting the brilliant silvered blue of moonlight. High patterns glow as if from within in untainted, inspired white blue; lower valleys are shrouded in dark mystery, greys and deepened blues vying for prominence. Serene clumpings lend a cold luminescence and rainbows reflect as if from water droplets as they scatter in the light, although any chill is dispelled by its utter sense of peace. Faerysa settles against the arm, though she's bow-string tight. Tense. Everin stays back, perhaps musing or just composing, then he follows Lyndra's example: head tips to both dragons, smile swifts nervously at the riders, and feet move him forward. That greyed egg, shot with gloaming's blues and greens, comes under his careful, careful hand. Jaegon sways from side to side as he comes to a halt by his egg of choice, unconsciously practicing the candidate's dance. He studies it, admiring the whorls and rainbows before daring to lay a hand on its hardened shell. Everin hisses. Hand retreats, held shocked as a gossamer spinner at his side. Lyndra raises her hand and holds it, splay-fingered, parallel to the curved surface of the beige and grey egg, as though testing its ambiance before touching the sand-heated shell. Her palm moves rightward, still an inch above the surface, not yet daring to touch. Catalina glances over at Jaegon to see what he's doing, inexperienced with this sort of thing. After what seems to be an eternity, she reaches the egg that's held her attention for so long, tentatively reaching out with slender (and shaking) fingers to touch the egg. But she hesitates, heart racing. In the bleachers, Sarai climbs into the stands. Everin shifts away from the egg, step by slow step. "Is it," he starts, low, "--are /they/ -- supposed to ... pulse?" Jaegon kneels and traces one finger along the egg's "cloudline." He speaks to the egg in a level, even voice. "Evening, you in there. I'm Jaegon. We'll get to know each other in time, I imagine." Then he lays a hand on the shell, before it can start to tremble. Lyndra gasps, taking a staggering step backward as she breathes, "It moved. It moved. Something within -moved-!" In the bleachers, Sarai races in, OBVIOUSLY having just gotten out of a bath of sorts. Her clothes cling to her speeding form, "Sorry," she pants, "Wouldn't *gasp* let me come *inhale* dirty, ma'am- Faerysa. *breath* Ma'am." Air, wind, diving and twisting. Blue abyss, casual and yet thrilling. A sensation of motion. Jaegon closes his eyes, catching his breath. He says something in a lower voice. Faerysa glance sover towards Sarai and says tightly, obviously uncomfortable, 'You can come down. Just be careful." A deep breath is taken in as Catalina forces herself to make contect with the large elliptical sphere in front of her, icy blue eyes dancing with excitement and anxiety all at once... The palm of her sweaty hand makes contact with the egg, and she freezes. In the bleachers, Sarai steps down onto the sands. Sarai walks over from the bleachers. Irianth senses "Jaegon says to the egg almost silently "I hear you. I feel you. You'll be fast, aye, and strong."" Sarai gulps as she steps onto the sands. Breathing heavily, Sarai tries real hard to look normal. Well at least her rushing made her forget shes standing on... *gulp* sands. Oh dear. Looking at Faerysa, Sarai offers a weak and hesitant smile, before taking a couple more steps onto the sands. "I'm sorry," she offers, lamely, thinking the... upsetedness is her fault. As the initial shock of discovery dies down, Lyndra penetrates that invisible barrier that had earlier resisted her approach and lays her hand against the shell itself. Reverence married with awe are shimmering in her bright gaze as she explores the ovoid's surface and the myriad tendrils within. T'dry moves away from Faerysa almost absentmindedly..he is drawn to Avroth. Moving to the bronze, he stands, leaning against the great bronze forelimb. A strange, almost glowing smile graces his face. Faerysa nods to Sarai, eyes on those touching the eggs. "Go ahead," she mutters. Jaegon strokes his other hand over the firm, but not yet rocklike, shell. He keeps his eyes closed, offering thoughts to the baby dragon within. Sarai's tongue peeks out of the side of her mouth as she looks at the eggs. Taking a couple more steps, she looks at the general grouping of eggs. They're bigger here. They're... well big. Everin waits, shaking, another moment and then uses a deep breath to push him to another egg, mottled pale yellow and cream. His fingers reach -- touch -- stay. Emotion and dreams, not consciousness. Formlessness forming, swirling. Unposessed, unattached, untamed. Lyndra's knees soften as her right hand joins her left in subtle supplication to the graceless, beknighted egg's melancholy and unique beauty. As her head turns, her cheek presses as well to the surface, and to the creature within she promises in a just-audible breath, "I hear you..." Jaegon resists the urge to hug the egg. Maybe in a sevenday or so. Not yet. Not now. Now it's time for gentle, caring touches. Brilliant green eyes open, regarding the mists of the egg. "You match your shell, you know," he comments, voice slightly unsteady. Faerysa hugs against Irianth's side, now, gaze slightly wild. She's just /sure/ they're going to hurt them. Everin lowers his head, removes his hand. Again he moves on, past Srarai, but he leaves her with a small, strained smile. "Come join us," he suggests with less than ecstatic delight. "Mind the pulsing." Sarai circles an egg, a plain egg that just hangs along there. Hands clasped behind her she doesn't touch. A nod to Everin and she looks at the egg he'd been touching. Slowly she walks back, looking at the egg with silent intensity. Amazing, they're not so... scarey now. They're like big chicken eggs. Tho Sarai's not going to say THAT out loud. Everin moves on, moves on; brushes past Jaegon and Lyndra's communions; finds a new egg, sheltered dark and deep in the sands. This one, he stays by, and he uses both hands to press palm to shell, fingers splayed like his eyes' wide concentration. Jaegon knows he's supposed to circulate. But something about this egg's drawn him since he first saw it, right before Jyrith tried to coil around him like a firelizard, and he can't make himself leave. The moons call him too, sometimes, to gaze in the desert night. He continues to pet the egg's warm, firm shell. Silence. Boredom. Unfocussed disinterest. Palms massaging a kiss into the beige and grey shell, tracing the spidery lines that break the colors' monotony, Lyndra continues directing sensitive words toward the hatchling still forming within the womb of his hardening shell. Her fear of the dragons -- and the weyrwoman -- is long forgotten in her discovery of a dragon egg's especial magnificence. Everin stays. He stays, although his gaze does skitter at the riders (is this proper?) and the other Candidates (is this right?). Slowly he rubs a hand over the dark shell, leaving his mark in the sandy, gritty coating defiantly. Jaegon grins to himself, a soft chuckle which turns into a grunt as he becomes aware of hot his feet are burning, even through boots. He rises, circling the egg, one hand trailing along its surface. Faerysa's glance skitters towards Sarai. Mutters, grudgingly, "It's safer to touch then than not, come Hatching." Everin shifts a step, sidewinding. He frowns. He rubs the egg harder, then flashes a panicked look at Irianth -- no, at Faerysa. Step around; use the body as a shield for touching the egg. "Don't go," Lyndra pleads softly to the dragonet within, her body curving halfway around the egg as she slides in evident pursuit of...something. "I'm still here, little one...." Sarai takes one hand away from her back and holds it a bare hairsbreadth away from the egg. Fingertips curling, she lets her hand feel the heat. Quiet, her eyes twinkle suddenly, the gold shining in the light. "I'm not afraid," she says softly. She's not. Mesmerized may be a better term. But her hand stays that scroll thinness away from the actual shell, and she barely recognizes that it was the /goldrider/ who talked to her, and not a candidate. Everin's shoulders twitch then straighten: a sigh's passage. He pats the egg gingerly and moves on, head high. A stray look does touch Lyndra, but that moves on, too, to the next egg: swirled marmelade-soft. Jaegon shakes himself, blinking and looking around. So many eggs. Glancing up to Irianth, he checks her eye color. With a gasp like the brush of a breeze against just-budding trees in spring, Lyndra remains stockstill, entranced, communing with whatever she feels or senses or imagines near the beige and grey egg, a solitary crystalline tear tracing the line of her cheek as it descends from her awe-widened gaze. Sarai's free hand tunnelsnakes up to her face, teeth nibbling on her thumbnail while she finally lets her fingers rest on the Dusk's Gloaming Egg. Her fingertips, gently and softly, like she was trying to touch a gossamer-spinner's web. Fragile. Sarai exhales softly, the rest of her palm sliding to rest against the egg. Her free thumb-nail is still being nibbeled. Jaegon circulates among the eggs. A large crimson and white marvel, one that has markings that make it appear to be in motion, cracking. Then back to his favorite. Moonlight and rainbows. Everin's fingertips trail across the jellied egg; he's already frowning his way at another one, near Jaegon. He nods to his fellow. "Favorite?" he divines, quietly. Catalina finally forces herself to tear herself away from the egg she's been standing in front of for so long, glancing at is one last time before moving towards the unblemished egg, her steps slow and steady, her gaze riveted on the ovoid. She steps up to it and gently rests her hand on it, some of her reservations and anxieties diminishing as she becomes more accustomed to the task at hand. Her heart is racing, her hands are sweaty, and she feels like fainting...and she's loving every second. Jaegon nods slowly to Everin. "Oh, yes. Isn't it beautiful? Touch it.." Some things you can't even think about getting selfish over, or trying to possess. They're too beautiful. Everin pulls in a breath and obeys. "--Beautiful," he echoes, but on a frown. "I suppose. I mean..." Sarai keeps her quiet intesity, one hand resting softly on the egg, her free hand running through tangeled, wet hair. A droplet of water, barely felt, trickles down the side of her face, soaking into her collar. "I thought they were hard," she wispers, half to herself, and half to whoever it is beside her. Green-gold eyes flicker to the person. The- er... oh. Sarai's face of studiosness snaps dramatically into shock. Faerysa. Her hand all but leaps off the egg and flies to behind her back. Egg? She's not scared. Goldrider? That's another harper tale. Floating, dreaming, relaxed. Fluid, rolling. *stretch* Jaegon grins, a quick flash. "They all are. They're not really aware yet, but they're in there.." He turns to a cream and white egg, leaving Everin to touch where he will. Lyndra inhales deeply, meditatively, and exhales with the expansive expressiveness of a sigh, her pulmonary rhythms placid and mellow. Her eyelids flutter closed, shuttering out any visual clutter so that her wideflung arms and the egg under their touch are all she knows. Faerysa gives Sarai a stressed look. She's still paranoid, though relaxing, slooooowly. Desolate waste. Burning, singed. Lifeless promise of regrowth. Cleansed. Jaegon stops petting that egg after a moment, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. Catalina inhales deeply, stars dancing in her eyes as she runs her hands over the warm surface, delighting in the feel. There's life in there, pulsing and humming in its own quiet way, seemingly taking its time to reveal itself to those who are so anxious to see it. But that time isn't now. To Cat, there is /only/ now as she continues to explore the unmarred surface of the egg that's so plain and so spectacular all at once. She could do this forever. T'dry is lost in thought, not really present at all. He wears his silly smile, occasionally even chuckling to himself. Everin stays with Jaegon's favorite only another moment; diplomacy spurs him back towards the clutch's center. Circling, circling -- yes, that one. He puts a hand to an egg livid with dawn's splashes, and his lips tighten, perhaps at the sight of fingers starfished dark against lurid color. Sarai's mouth works for a moment, and then she takes a half step away from the egg, saying nothing. Uh huh... Time to look at another egg. Pealing her hesitant gaze away from Faerysa, Sarai looks at the eggs. Well how can you know what's in any of them... well any of them except /that/ one. Her eyes glide up to the gold egg, and Sarai moves toward it, each footstep slow and measured. Stopping a good foot from the special egg, she tilts her head. Hair flops to one side, dangling and drying quickly in the cavern's heat. Lyndra murmurs against the shell, voice canted low for the hatchling alone, "I know you need to sleep...so sleep, little one. Hush...." Like a first-time mother willing her child to drowsiness, so Lyndra envelops the unseen inhabitant of this gloomy, graceless egg with a bounty of affection and protectiveness; it's as though she feels only she has realized a dragonet is shaping inside the shell. Faerysa's gaze flashes over, watchful. Irianth even opens an eye. Hers. And it's cradled between those talons. How brave? Everin's fingers wrinkle on the shell; he keeps them there while his head rises with a gauging frown at dam and rider. "We're still safe, aren't we?" he says to Faerysa, or perhaps to that opened eye. Catalina shivers slightly as endless possibilities race through her mind, her eyes intense now, her breaths coming more steadily. "You're so beautiful," she says in a hushed voice that contains something undefined. Not quite excitement, not quite awe..perhaps an emotion in between, perhaps neither the former or the latter. But there's definitely something there. Her hands continue their lazy exploration of the surface of the egg. Cat has nowhere to go, after all. Jaegon turns back to his favorite egg, and strokes it again, a gentle hello. Faerysa's glance skitters, pepples across water, to Everin. "As long as I'm here," she answers. Avroth stands suddenly, his wings flaring. Looming over the south end of the clutch, he leans, wings taught as a light rain blows in from the opening to the sky overhead. Sarai's not going to touch it. She just wants to look at it. Dragon's have never harmed a human, not that Sarai was ever told. However it's prudent not to test that, and Sarai's hands dangle beside her, in plain sight. The one egg that every one knows for certain what's in it. The one egg almost all of the girls in the barracks have whispered about. The one egg that Sarai's intense gaze is piericing, trying to see through it, to see it's inhabitant. Everin bows his head back to the egg. After a few breaths, some consideration scrawled across his darkened face, he kneels awkwardly in the sand beside, braced by the hand across the curved zenith. A pat. Good egg. Nice egg. Silence. Void. No presence. Lyndra has not left the egg that has beckoned her attention since its clutching, as though true to it and the creature within. Some familiar chord has been struck between the two, and quitting the sands will find Lyndra startlingly reluctant. Jaegon grins slightly again. He looks aroun for another egg to pet. Irianth settles, serene; the egg just glitters, sand-heated. Jaegon makes his way to the dawn-blessed egg, admiring the reds and oranges. Everin pats the egg again, less with palm than with harper-stained fingers. He's frowning again; his head's cocked. Not quite leaning his ear into the lurid shell, he nevertheless sways closer. (Good egg. Stay.) Catalina sucks her breath in as something plays at her fingertips, although she's hardly intimidated by the warm feeling that rushes up her arm, reaching and flowing up her spine like water. The girl willingly absorbs it, basks in it. There's something about this egg that's captured her..the exterior is so plain, but it's not the surface that matters, no. It's what waits inside that makes all the difference, and Cat is fully aware that she won't make contact, no matter how much rubbing she does. But it's comforting, somehow. Whatever it is she's feeling now. Lyndra's awareness of the heat occurs at last when her forearm is used to dismiss a drizzle of perspiration from her brow. Still, steamy sands or no, she is waiting by the egg, caressing its greyest patch with the affectionate flat of her hand. Sarai is slient, and looks up, slowly, at Irianth. Glittering egg, guarded bravely. How brave is the youth? Braver than she seems. Her stammering isn't cause by fear, only unfamiliarity. But now... now she's been looking at the eggs off and on for sevendays. They are as known to her as the stars in the sky, which she's watched every night of her life. "May I?" her voice reaches up to golden Irianth, and one hand lifts, in an open offering. Like trying to pet a runner for the first time, winning it's trust, showing no fear. Animals can sense fear, you know, and dragons probabaly better than anything Sarai's seen. Shiver. Recoil. Everin scrambles to his feet, and he scrubs his hand free of shell sand on his thigh. "Can we go yet?" he asks Faerysa, not quite looking her way. Jaegon keeps his hand a span above the surface of the shell, greeting the dawning egg in the same tone he did the moonlit. As he lowers his hand to the surface, he hears Sarai's question, and glances over to see Iri's response. Irianth merely fixes an unblinking eye on Sarai. No threat. No invitation. Just watching. And Rysa is fortunately distracted by Everin. "-- If you;re tired, yes." A stab, a jerk, a poke. Intangible, but real. Recoil. Everin serves his part well, then. He dips his torso to dam and weyrwoman, nods to sire and rider, and stares at the Candidates. And then he flees. Everin climbs up into the Stands. In the bleachers, Everin makes his way through the bleachers. In the bleachers, Everin heads out to the Bowl. Jaegon glances back at the egg. "I'm sorry. I was distracted." T'dry snaps out of his stupor long enough to watch Everin sprint off. Shaking his head, he looks up at Avroth lovingly. Sarai gravely matches eyes with eye (tho hers blink), and slowly moves her hand to touch the gold egg. Again, the gentle, soft touch. Smoother than the finest flower's petal is Sarai's touch. Young eyes return to the egg and Sarai reminds herself. Breath IN and out. Her second hand reaches out. Catalina suddenly hesitates, looking over the egg with eyes slightly narrowed in thought as she becomes aware of something else. Something that should probably be intimidating, but isn't for some reason. She's drawn to this egg, entranced...almost hypnotized, it seems. And although her steady rubbing of the warm surface has temporarily ceased, she doesn't move elsewhere. Yet. Irianth rumbles low and slightly protective, and her head lowers. Lookit the teeth. Content to familiarize herself with this one egg, Lyndra crouches beside it and strokes it with the most delicate, feather-light touches imaginable. Her cheek is as-yet still pressed to the curved surface as well, enabling her to speak with bare whispers to whatever is captive inside the eggs. Jaegon holds his breath, leaning against the Daybreak egg. He may have to come back to this one..depending on Irianth's tolerance level. Faerysa's gaze skitters over with her mate's rumble, alarmed. Sarai's interested in this egg, oh yes. Her voice is soft, and soothing. "I won't hurt her," she says quietly. Oh, for now Sarai's calm, however, there's a good chance her nerves will catch up with her in a few, and she'll shake herself to peices. But the golden egg has captured her attention. "Hello..." Purple in posession, that particular touch. Don't you see it? Feel it? All along the length that touches it, it readiates. Jaegon looks back to the egg. "I feel you. Hello. Feeling the need to stretch, in there?" His voice is conversational. Catalina tilts her head to the side inquisitively as she takes everything in, oblivious to anything and everything else. Two words suddenly come to mind, and are said before the Candidate can give it a second thought: "Not yet." She blinks, one hand leaving the egg to rub the opposite arm. She murmurs the words again, more to herself, retasting them. She continues to gaze at the egg, thoughtfully now. Faerysa finally really notices and scurries. Brightly, falsely, "She's tired now." Rysa's paranoid now, yes. "You can do it again later." Well, maybe you ca. If Rysa can be convinced it's a Good idea again. Lyndra's breaths are irregular thanks to the myriad reactions emanating from the hatchling. A fingertip follows the irregular course of a single jagged line toward the egg's sandy pillow, then moves upward to trace a different line branching away from the first. Jaegon regretfully strokes his egg once more. "I'll be back, beautiful. Grow well. We'll wait as long as you need." It fades away, that awareness. Almost as if it never awakened. Jaegon turns back to "his" egg, stroking a hand along the rainbows one last time and murmuring something similar. Sarai softly caresses the protected egg and then removes her hand. Taking a step back she looks up at the golden dragon. Again, green-gold eyes meet the very large dragon eyes, gravely and seriously. Sarai inclines her head, in a bow, eyes never leaving the dragon. Then another step back, and the girl looks at the gold egg... at her hands. Hands that are not starting to tremble. Tightly clenched fists, become the hands, and Sarai inhales, shakily, moveing away from the eggs, and almost into another candidate. Faerysa might as well be a VTOL for all Lyndra notices. She is physically pursuing the oddities of a line in the egg's coloration while mentally chasing the sensations she would swear come from inside the egg itself. Faerysa says briskly, making shooing motions. "Go on. Don't you have chores to finish up?" She casts nervous eyes at those who still touch the eggs. "Later. Later. yes. Later." Irianth rumbles in low... something. Avroth shakes, a cascade of collected water splashing against the partition at the front of the sands. "Rain's getting harder, Rysa." T'dry mentions, casually. Jaegon crosses in Sarai's path, on his way to the stands, and stops at Tan's words. "It's raining? Ah, SHELLS, we'll have flash floods in the pass.." T'dry chuckles at the weyrwoman's antics. "You tried to shoo me off like that once, Rysa. Look where it got you." Teasing, that tone. And caring. Catalina is suddenly robbed of words, her hands jerking back as she stares at the egg incredulously, almost alarmed. One hand shakily extends again, fingers brushing the outside again. "I'll be..be.. back," she stumbles, eyes wide. Faerysa's movement is caught in the corner of her eye, and she tears her gaze away from the egg to look at the goldrider. She still can't speak that well, so she doesn't. With a final glance at unblemished bystander, she walks off towards the stands. Faerysa glances somewhat distractedly towards T'dry. "It is? Oh, you're right. It is." Eyes turn to Lyndra, "C'mon. Wake up. /Leave/." Rude? Nah. Catalina climbs up into the Stands. In the bleachers, Catalina makes her way through the bleachers. Sarai's shoulders bump Jaegon as she continues walking, looking over her shouler, "Oh!" she exlaimes, softly, as if trying not to wake the eggs. "I'm s-s-s-orry..." Now she's looking a beet peekish. Rather green too. T'dry stands fully upright. "OK, folks. Rysa's right. Out." His voice somehow takes a rather commanding tone, well practiced with a turn plus as a wingsecond. He means /now/. Did someone speak? Lyndra emits a dreamy sound of bliss and stays where she is. She's either mesmerized or deaf. Jaegon catches Sarai's shoulders. "It's all right. Careful. Let's go." He starts herding her toward the stands, arm around her shoulders to keep her from falling over or anything. Avroth twists his neck, regarding his mate, then recrossing to scan the clutch. THere. Dumbfounded. FIrestone tinged breath is snorted at the silent one. Sarai bobbels her head, stealing a last glance. Eggs. Egg. dragon. Oh... Sarai was wasn't she? The youth gulps and let's Jaegon herd the herder apprentice as her shaking hands start to tremble her arms too. In the bleachers, Catalina staggers out onto the bleachers, nearly tripping over her own two feet. Quin doesn't get a glance, a greeting, nothing. She's not rude, just lost in the thoughts that race through her mind. Walking requires one foot in front of the other, right? Cat seems to have trouble performing an action so simple. You climb up into the Stands. Igen Weyr Hatching Grounds - Stands(#228RJa$) These observation bleachers, hewn from the sandstone which surrounds the entire cavern, span the length of the western wall of the Igen Weyr Hatching Grounds. The cavern is of a tremendous size, stretching something like 10 dragonlengths up to its apex, and having a diameter of roughly 20 dragonlengths. The walls and roof are of rough stone, with long spires of lime hanging down. Just out from the bleachers, an opening gapes to the sky overhead, providing light and air for the dome. There are stairs at one end leading out towards the Bowl. One may simply 'observe object' to see an object on the sands. Contents: Catalina Quin Obvious exits: SAnds Bowl On the Sands, Sarai climbs up into the Stands. Sarai makes her way through the bleachers. On the Sands, T'dry stands next to Lyndra. "Miss." His tone is rather forceful as he takes her by the bicep. Jaegon gives Sarai a reassuring squeeze. "That was very brave," he comments, low. "Next time, though, warn Rysa first. Apoplexy isn't good for pregnant women." On the Sands, Lyndra jolts out of her reverie, her commune with dragonkind, and flops backwards on her bum. "What?" she demands, indignation and sheer fright sharpening her voice. Sarai follows Jaegon's lead and gulps. Resembeling an unripe apple in complextion, Sarai's face starts to go from greenish to whiteish. "I as-as-asked Irianth..." She gulps again and then says, "I don't feel well..." She doesn't particularly look well, unless you think cleached parchment is a healthy color for a youth. On the Sands, Faerysa shifts from foot to foot, trailing T'dry. "/Lyndra/. Off. Go." On the Sands, T'dry makes a rather strong attempt to haul Lyndra to her feet despite his footing on loose sand. You say "It's all right, Sarai. Sit down and breathe a moment, all right?" On the Sands, Lyndra scrambles backward with a regretful final gaze at the forlorn egg, skittering away from T'dry, and bolts from the sands. On the Sands, Lyndra climbs up into the Stands. Lyndra makes her way through the bleachers. On the Sands, T'dry rolls his eyes as he turns back to Rysa. "Candidates..." He shakes his head. Sarai bobbels her head and thumps into a seat, inhaling swiftly. She was touching the eggs. Oh. her color doesn't improve much, "it's... hot," she gulps, sweating now. Jaegon grabs his cloak and fans Sarai with a corner. "Calm, Sarai." On the Sands, Faerysa worries at her lip, even though she nods. "I don't like it," she confides, low, for the bronzeriders ears alone. Although Jaegon's comment is directed to Sarai, Catalina can't help but follow his directions. *Plop* She stares out at the sands, her attention immediately drawn back to the egg she just interacted with..unblemished bystander. She sighs softly, smiling dreamily, eyes sparkling. Catalina has left the cavern. Well, mentally anyway. Lyndra catches her breath once she has escaped the sand's immediate heat and the wrath of the riders, then, another longing look to the egg she touched, she hurries into the bowl for mercifully cool desert night air. Lyndra heads out to the Bowl. On the Sands, T'dry nods, that arm returning to Rysa's waist. "Soon, though, you won't have a say. Some will impress. Others won't. The decision won't be yours to influence." Sarai's hands are in her lamp, still trembling, "I- I wanna go outside..." it's hot. Eggs. Sands. Hot. Yes, go outside. Outside is safer. Abruptly sarai stands up, and all of her tall frame wobbels. Jaegon smooths Sarai's hair back. "I'll carry you." He scoops her up withut a by-your-leave and goes. On the Sands, Faerysa crinkles her nose up. "Hatching's different," she says, mutinously. 'It's not wandering around and maybe tripping on them." You head out to the Bowl. Weyrling Training Field The long shadows cast by the tall spires above are matched in this area of the Bowl by a few long scars in the floor of the Bowl - a silent testimony to a few miscalculated landings. Overhead, the dragons seem to fly with increased awareness, perhaps because one never knows when a weyrling will try a new trick in this area of the Bowl. Enough groundspace for two full wings of dragons stretches from the walls of the Bowl, making this a perfect area for practice or drills. To the north, the walls of the Bowl part to make way for the Igen Weyr Pass, whereas to the west a glint of water betrays the lake's position. An opening into the bowl walls to the northeast fairly hums with the murmurs of young riders in training. Straight east a large opening seems to almost glow, and the hushed atmosphere surrounding it indicates it is the entrance to the Weyr's Hatching Grounds. A flurry of activity to the south points one to the main entrance into the inner Weyr. The center of the Bowl lies to the southwest. Contents: Lyndra The Fish Hatcheries Obvious exits: Stables Igen Weyr Pass Weyrling Barracks Hatching Grounds Center of Bowl West South Sarai comes out from the gaping entrance that leads to the Hatching Grounds. Lyndra heads south to the main entrance. Jaegon covers Sarai with a cloak corner as the rain hits and stops in the opening. "Shards. We're going to get drenched." Sarai is carried out by Jaegon, "I- let- me *hicup* down ..." It's actually forecfull, if you read between the stammerings. "Now..." You say "You can't stand on your own feet. You'll trip. Relax and calm down." Catalina comes out from the gaping entrance that leads to the Hatching Grounds. Catalina strides towards the center of the Bowl. Sarai gulps once and manages to get out, "Down, now, Jaegon." Very insitant, and she tries to get down. Jaegon reluctantly sets you on your feet, keeping an arm out to steady you. Sarai didn't want to stand, you see, and manages to lean on the bowl wall, and be quite ill to her stomach behind a rock. She shouldn't have eaten before her bath. Better the bowl floor than poor Jaegon. Jaegon winces and keeps a hand on your shoulder. "Was it that intense for you?" he asks softly. "She wouldn't have hurt you. Her eyes were still blue." Sarai spits a little bit, and stays leaned over. "I was... scared." she says, not particularly caring that she's getting wet. She was fairly sure she wasn't about to be eaten, but the general tummulant of teenaged emotions, combined with egg touching for the first time, and the heat of the sands... well they don't mix well. "I'm... okay." A shakey inhale, and her hands still, finally. Jaegon nods with understanding. "Take your time, all right? Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?" Sarai shakes her head, slowly, color returning to it's normal tanned tone. "No... I'm...' She lifts her head up now and takes a breath. "I'm feeling better..." Tired, soaked from the rain, and absoultly aghast at her gall to touch the eggs. "Did I really touch the gold egg?" Jaegon nods solemnly. "You really did. And she didn't eat you." Sarai runs both hands through her hair and looks up at the sky. Rain, no stars. "She didn't eat me.." This much is evident. "I thought Faerysa was gonna...." You say "Don't let Rysa scare you, all right? Listen to what she says, but I grew up with her and I know she's nothing to be afraid of." Sarai smiles at Jaegon, and stands up straight. She looks better. "I know... in my head... I wasn't..." She pauses and thinks. Then, ovinishly,s he looks at Jaegon, "I wasn't thinking." You say "You were just doing. I know. Did she talk back to you?" Jaegon offers you a chance to talk about what you felt, standing here in the desert rain. Sarai blinks and then asks, "The Egg?" Jaegon nods. Sarai ohs and exhales a bit, thinking really hard, "She... She was there... I knew it." Blinking suddenly, Sarai looks at Jaegon, surprised, "I felt her?" It's an astonishing idea. Hearing a dragon (however obliquely). Jaegon nods. "You felt her. Have any dragons ever spoken to you? Ever? Sarai shakes her head, still amazed, and deathly serious allin one. "Never. It- It's just me inside my head...Not even my father's dragon..." Well that she remembers. Jaegon nods. "But the hatchings aren't Impressed yet. Sometimes they answer, in a way, when you talk to them. Sarai ohhs, quietly and looks back to the sands. "It's... it's... Wow." there. Wow. it's a word that is a sentance too. Jaegon nods, grinning. "We need to be back at the dorm before curfew, Sarai." Sarai blinks a bit,"it's... late?" There was passage of time on the sands? "We're wet..." She regards herself and then Jaegon. Another blink. "Thank you." Jaegon chuckles and warns "Stay on the rock. The sand might get boggy." Sarai nods and looks at the sand, "Okay... It really rains hard..." desert rain storms. They're very pretty, provided you don't get flodded. You say "The weyr is pretty well protected against flash floods. I just hope the tithe train due in doesn't weather in any gullies..." Jaegon talks along those lines as he escorts you back to the caverns, wrapped in his cloak. Sarai stayes close to Jaegon, "It's the tithe from Benden too... My grandmum sent me something."
HOME FIRES MISTS LIFEBLOOD SPOKES