Egg-touching again (clutch 1)

April 30th 1998
Logged by Leshil

Heat rises - ripples - wavers in a stifling curtain that envelops dragons and eggs while smothering riders and visitors. The black sands have been raked into ruts and dips, an alien, uneven surface for anyone trying to walk across them. Some say tension seers the heat: residue of hope, fear, relief, sadness, pain and ultimate joy staining high grey walls and lurking about the many viewing ledges that speckle the walls. Ancient murals of dragonlore fade across the walls near gallery and entrances.
Bronze Rennth and gold Tiareth are here.
You see Clutch of Eggs here.
Jh'ral, Nuff, Annie, Tavim, Sefren, Shaela, and Toren are here.

Clutch of Eggs
Eggs. Scores of eggs spread 'cross the sands, some in clumps, others buried, others set out on their own. This is Tiareth's clutch and be warned not to get too close; golds can be a bit protective. And hungry.

Sefren flashes a broad smile, unusually unguarded. Tavim's display over Shaela is taken with a grain or two of uncertainty before it is dismissed along with most everything else but the eggs, the heat, and the guarding parents. After bowing respectfully to gold and bronze, he moves over to the larger clump of eggs.

Tiareth glances at Toren, then goes back to watching Rennth and the egg, choosing another smaller one for herself. She tucks herself around the nose-cold Herder egg and draws it close.

Nuff chuckles, shaking her head. Don't want me no C'dar, thanks. She moves over making room on the purple carpet for Shaela where its cooler, you see, and offers the child a slice of chilled fruit. "HI kid." And beyond. "Toren! Leshil. Eggs to be touched, if you're careful."

Leshil runs in after Toren, nearly touches his toes when he bows to queen and clutch-dad, and starts peering at eggs.

Tavim chuckles softly, and gently nudges Shael. "Follow me if you want, or keep out of trouble." A wink, as he squeezes her shoulder, then meanders over to the closest egg. Which happens to be that Comet one. The one he rather liked before. And got a response from. Odd. Anywho, he kneels slightly, and presses his hand to the side of the leathery surface, gently feeling.

Toren is taken aback by the heat fromt he sands, she blinks her eyes agains the change in temperature. and stands there dumstruck for long moments before comeing to mind and bowing a greeting first to Queen then the Bronze.

Annie's nose wrinkles, a bit disappointed. Eyes squint, then, becoming a pair a muck-green slits. Candidates are inspected by her self-proclaimed keen eyes. Lessee. She'll find /someone/ to wager with her.

Leshil makes his way gingerly over to inspect the tiny star egg. "Are…we supposed to choose favorites?"

Aife moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.

Ooh. Purple carpet. Smart Nuff. Another toothy grin spreads across Shae's face before she steps onto the cooler ground. She watches Tav carefully…if he says it's okay, it must be, right? So she follows along and makes her way over to the egg as well.

Tavim blinks, hand pulling back again, before gently pressing back. Always an odd feeling. He gently strokes the side of the egg for a moment, feeling the throbbing, but the strange second one. The coolness… A brief hesitation, then he glances over his shoulder towards Nuff. Umm. "Weyrwoman? Could you come here for a moment? I want to ask ya something…"

Sefren moves towards the white shapes shimmering in the heat like mirages of snow. Drawn to one tinted like citrus, he reaches out to move his palms across the leathery sheen, finding himself submerged in the cool, glassy colors and patterns. Leaning close to it, he whispers something inaudible then smiles, perhaps just a greeting, perhaps something more.

Aife is always late when it comes to looking at eggs…she's scared of 'em, you see. Not scared of Tiareth guarding them, and totally oblivious to the heat of the sands under them…it's the /eggs/. They're scary.

Annie's sharp-poking elbow again finds its way to nudging at Nuff. "He's calling you." Isn't she helpful?

Toren gazes upon the sand quietly and her eyes move over each one and then her eyes settles on one in particular..the Witner Snowstorm Egg. Yes…that one…she walks slowly over to it forgetting all about the heat and gets drawn to the coolness of color and smooth surface of the egg.

High above on a crescent-moon ledge, Niraneth just watches on in abject fascination. Look at them all. Cavorting about, feeling up the eggs like that. It's.. it's /dirty/, that's what it is. Tiareth. That hedon.

Nuff eyse the sands, eyes her carpet, eyes the sands, eyes her carpet. After a moment she chuckles and steps back onto the sands. Turning, she adds, "Aye, well if you have a favorite, sure. But mostly you just try and make aquaintences with all of them." She moves up to Tavim, "Whuzzup?"

Daleva heads in, from wherever she was, though from the looks of her that was the baths. One of these days she may just get to come see the eggs without sopping wet hair. A slight nod/bow to the parents, must work on that, and a nod of greeting to the riders.

Nuff waves in Daleva and Aife as well, "Eggs, yes yes. Stay away from Tiareth, but be good if you all spent s'more time with them." Rennth, him witht he big egg, is there too - watching.

Toren squats near the egg and watches it but not touching for a long moment. She looks up and blinks and says, "may…may I touch it?"

Leshil runs a finger lightly along the tip of the starry one. "It's warm!" he bursts out in a surprised way, and scurries to a marbled greeny one.

Annie just hangs cool on that scrap of rug, always eyeing the candidates, making mental marks about who she might just wager on, come hatching night. How dignified, no?

Whuzzup? Hrm. A pause, as he moves his hand back slightly, then looks up to Nuff. "I… this egg… it just… isn't like the last one… it sorta feels cold… almost… sorta lifeless… is there osmething wrong?" He doesn't want to suddenly find out there /is/ during the hatching, and feel bad then. Eyes turn to Nuff, hoping she has alll the answers.

Nuff nodnods to Tore, "Aye, yes. Carefully. LIke don't bang on it or anything." Tiareth, behind, makes assorted noises about a certain purple-clad weaver bang-bang-banging on /her/ egg. She remebers, yes she does. As well as all those assorted comments about omlettes.
Aife skirts a wide birth around 'her' egg…the sparkly wine-looking one that felt so weird last time. And the other one that…was even stranger. She's looking for a nice, harmless egg that doesn't do any funny stuff.

Leshil saw: Warm? Of course. And as you move away from that starry-dappled egg, it gives the faintest of pulses - a definite sign of life within.

Rennth proprietarily keeps that egg close, too. No see, no hear, no touch. Hah.

Sefren caresses the citrusy one a moment longer before moving on to one a bit larger, at least in scope. All the cacophony of a blizzard twists around this egg, streaking gusty patterns of color. With the barest touch of fingertips, Sef traces the colors on their whimsical as if seeking to understand the hues of weather. "They're much harder than they were last time," he notes quietly.

Daleva wanders her way across the sands much like the last time she was out here, avoiding the parents by a fairly good distance. Eventually settling in one area and looking more carefully at the eggs there.

Well, if you /have/ to wager on someone, wager on Shae for sure. Just look at the comfortable way with which she stands on those sands, as though born for the heat. And the way she runs her hand along the egg, as though she already had a link with it's inhabitant. Then again, you could blink out of your dreamworld and see reality. She's hopping like a crazy person and running for that carpet, away from those big eggs. What if were to roll over on top of her??

Nuff eyes the egg in question - but being no expert turns to Tiareth for help. The mother-gold, idly revisiting life in Her egg wtih Rennth, eventually drags her attention back towards her Rider. A look, an enigmatic blink, a flexing of her talons in the sand. Tiareth looks thoughtful and somewhat confused. Nuff, who usually looks that way, grins. "Well now, not sure really. Tehre's bound to be more than a few du… er..", she eyes the Lump warily, ".. ones that don't hatch, y'know. Not sure how to tell though. I don't think the dragons particularly like to think about it."

Annie never came near Serath's egg. And the large - even then! - thing still found her.
Toren is drawn in full concentration to the Winter snowstorm before her…reminds her of something that she can't put her finger on. But that is silly its an egg after all. Tenatively she puts her hand onthe warm shell and pets it as she would a furry feline.

Tavim notices Shaela out of the corner of his eye, and can''t help but chuckle softly. Isn't she the one who's convinced she's going to be the 'Reaches next goldrider? Quickly, he looks back to Nuff, and nods slightly, taking one last look to his egg, then back to her. "Okay…I… I guess I'll move on, then." For now, at least. A quick thanks to Nuff, then he heads towards another. The one that seems to come from the depths of the ocean, his hand dancing over the top of it. G'afternoon.

Don't bet on Aife. There aren't any dragons here for her, she's only out here 'cause she never learned to say no to Nuff. She's creeping around an egg now, hands brushing along the smooth shell…

Sefren moves on to another egg, going from one to the next, entranced. This next one glistens patterns like icy rainbow spires, shimmering pastel vibrancy in hues he never guessed existed. Fingers reaching out to touch leathery surface in wonder, Sef is surprised when the colors seem to shift even under his touch, like prismed light.

Annie usually bets on whoever says Serath is the /most/ lovely dragon a few thousand times.

Leshil puts his nose to the moss-looking stuff, and sniffs. "It doesn't seem soft, but it sure looks it! And this smell. What /is/ this…oh! It's coming from over /there/!" A skipping dash, from a whiff and rub at citrus to the rapt stillness at forest quickly ensues, and then a period of brief quiet, before his voice, now hushed, comes again. "It's snow. Fresh fallen, before it's been marred, mangled, muddied. And it's like nothing else I've ever seen, smelt, felt before, and is, somehow, like everything I've experienced. Don't you think so, Sefren, Aife, Toren, Tavim?"

Toren looks dreamy… Toren dreamy?….. as she caresses the egg then puts her other hand on top of it with fingers splayed out. She feels the surface…eggs always looks mooth but there are always subtle textures to the surface. A slow smile creases her face and she is unaware of the hot sand beneath her feet or the ache in her legs as she crouches. All that she is aware of is the coolness of the egg…the calm coolness and even the voices around her fade out.

Daleva finds her attention grabed by one specific egg that she never saw last time, one that looks like, well like some of the Blacksands mines Deep and dark. Glows illuminating the path but beyond that light, darkness and the unknown. Hand reaches out and slowly traces across the dark parts wondering what sort of mysteries lie in those depths.

Nuff hehs, turning to Toren and shuffling through the heat towards the young girl. She passes Leshil and his mossy egg, chuckling, before stepping up near Toren. There she stands, waiting to be noticed, though why anyone would with eggs in the way is questionable.

Just 'cuz you're gonna be a goldrider doesn't mean you can't be afraid of eggs. Shaela reaches the carpet and breathes a sigh of relief, her violet eyes straying towards Annie. Perhaps those lessons are doing some good after all - she recognizes the knot, and her eyes widen. She glances away again. How embarrassing.

Aife jerks back…this one too? "They're all…." she starts, and falters, Leshil's question either unheard or ignored. But she can't quite bring herself to pull away from this one for long, any more than she could the others.

Sefren looks up to Leshil with a quizzical tilt of his head. "Er…"

Annie seems not to notice Shaela, for this one goldrider is wrapped up in picking her best bets for impression. That red-headed one? The one with the dangly bit of snot? That knobby-kneed girl? Hrm. Choices.

Toren turns her head and puts her ear close to the shell trying to listen to the cool egg glistening ont he hot sands. She holds it gently in her hands feeling for movement, that goofy smile still on her face. wonder what is wrong with the girl getting all gooey over the egg.

Tavim hmms softly, his fingers gently brushing over the surface of the ocean's most desolate wastes. He pauses, then kneels down beside it, the glowing colors attracting him to it. Fingers run along the pebbly surface, eyes looking about the eddies of color, then he closes his eyes slightly. Wishful thinking, yes, but he's hoping to feel something from this one, as he has from a few others.

And Shaela would prefer it that way. Her eyes turn back to Tav and she watches him carefully. And slightly protectively too - at the ready to run to his rescue just in case…well, just in case.

Daleva traces some more finding her mind wandering back to the times when she went exploring down in those secret filled caverns, and a slight smile remembering the way her light bounced off some of the gem filled walls. Back to the sands her mind finally finds it's way, and she stands after noticeing that she's crouching in quite possibley the most akward manner.

Leshil saw: The shell indulges, as it will. Despite its rocky surface, the egg shifts and stirs wtihout moving, merely whispering through the shadows. Time wears at the shell, making it both harder and more brittle.

Aife presses fingers against leathery skin - not skin, shell, she shakes her head to clear those strange thoughts that being so close to the eggs imparts….There isn't one there for her. There isn't. And it's chanted, like a litany, under her breath.

Toren beams almost delighted as she feels the faintest movement within and splays her fingers out wider…all the better to feel the vibration. She can feel the warmth fromt he sands floating around it…but somehow it remains cool, calm, collected… It makes her smile…this winter storm egg… she's always said she preferes the cool to the warm…. the glacial to the stifling heat. Odd girl … and she goos over the egg oblivious to anyone else.

Nuff isn't noticed, so moves on to pester Daleva then. She stands behind the young woman, watching.

Tavim blinks, feeling the whispering tendrils within the egg, pressing his fingers down a bit more, but quickly eases up, feeling the egg depress a littel too much. He 'listens' for a little longer, then finalyl stands, brushing himself off. A quick glance, seeing where Shaela is, and smiling again. She's watching him. Shaking his head, he picks an egg nearer to her, the Timeless Crystal one. A wonderful set of colors, white light flashing along it's surface, as he watches the beams darting about. These eggs are mostly breathtaking. A pause, then he finally presses his palm to it, kneeling again.

Annie? Oh, she's still leeching about on that scrap of violet carpet, shifting from one booted foot to another, slight hands fanning at her loosely-clad torso. Even the Istan's cotton blouse seems to heavy. A gaze catches Tavim's own inspection of the eggs, and it lingers, faint smile stretching 'cross thinnish lips as she watches.

Daleva streches her leg out to get the feeling back in her foot, and turns slightly sensing that there's someone near her and doesn't wanna step on them just in case they're one of the engrossed ones. Seeing Nuff standing behind her, she smiles "Oh. Hello Weyrwoman,"

Nuff grins, nuffishly, which is nothing like wolfishly. She steps up beside Daleava and peers at the egg in question - "Y'like this one Daleva?"

Daleva nods and looks back over at the egg "It reminds me a bit of the mining tunnels at Blacksands and Crom, suppose mainly it just reminds me of home." Not that the girl ever gets homesick, just nice to see something that reminds her of it.

Nuff nodnods, fingers skiffing the grey and brown of earthen shell. "Y'think? Kinda looks like a big round cookie…" But then Nuff thinks everything looks like a big round cookie. "This one your favorite then?"

Leshil has lasped into silence again, or nearly so - for he whispers bits and pieces of this and that to the egg, his sanctuary, scattered little snippets that wash over it like the tiny prints of the smallest creatures.

Toren rubs the egg as if trying to commit every bump and curve to memory…thankfully she is coming back to reality, prodded to it by the aching in her legs.

Still young, Annie's attention always seems to have a way of faltering - and redirecting itself just as quickly. Letting go her lock on Tavim, her eyes sweep 'cross the sands once more, then back.

Off that purple carpet she goes, wading across the sands to that gift-of-a-candidate (courtesy of Serath, o'course). Taking Nuff's way, she hangs 'round behind him, silent, though boots' tips scuff at the sand

Gold-riders prowl candidates. New at 11.

Scuff. Hrm. Tavim blinks, interrupting from his trance from feeling the egg, and looks over his shoulder. A smile, straightening, though he leaves the egg where it is, as he stretches his other arm. "Hi there… spying again on me?" Wink. He looks at the egg one last time, then finally removes his hand, turning his attention to the Istan goldrider. "What's up?"

Well of /course/ Shaela's watching him. Who else is she going to watch? Leshil? Eeeeuch. Not to mention, she wouldn't want to face Mins's wrath if the girl ever caught her staring at the boy of her dreams. Nope. Shae'll just watch her old man.

Daleva smiles and nods "I think so, yeah. and that one over there is too," rasied up on tiptoes she glances around then points over towards another one that has bright light playing across it, like timeless crystal.

Tiareth watches everyone. She's got big eyes, so she can do that. She also guards big egg with Rennth, sprawling back furtther against the wall. Her hide shimmers with the recent oil, despite her growing gauntness, and her eyes are alert as ever.

"Not spying," Annie retorts, grin tugging at her lips as she peer up at the candidate, expression truly innocent. Really. "I just had a question. When you're done with that egg, of course." This said, she takes a pointed step backward, hands clasped behind her back.

Well. It seems like a dud, so he shrugs with a smile, taking a step away as well. "Go for it. I could use a brak from kneeling down all the time." Wink.

Toren blinks still with one hand ont he egg, and looks around… "Aife…hello…" she says looking a bit dazed from the heat.

"You have any marks to your name, Tavim?" Her smile remains so-sweet and so-innocent as greenish eyes travel up and down the candidate's frame - looking for signs of wealth, no doubt. Annie awaits response.

Wealth? Tavim? Yeah. Right. But he has a few, a smile slipping across his lips, as he offers her a shrug in return. "A few… why do you ask?" He /doesn't/ like that look.

Aife has long since stopped paying attention. She's thinking, she is. Listening. To the eggs. Humming, sort of, under her breath.

You don't, Tavim? And Annie's been practicing it, just for you. Spoil sport. "You wager?" Her voice sticks to that too-sweet, too-innocent tone. Be fooled. "I'm new to such things." Liar. "Want to let me practice on you? Wager with me?" How could one resist that smile? She's like Baby Spice, she is.

Whoa. Lil Sef spaced out for a moment or two there. But he's back now. More or less.

Annie turns from where Tavim once was, and now gives the other candidates a rather peevish stare. Enjoy.

Sefren is innocent! Or at least, he can't figure out what's going on. Tentative smile is sent in Annie's direction from where he kneels near one or another icy egg, fingers splayed across its leathery surface.

Annie's fingers go to swipe at a dribble of sands-induced sweat. Nothing said, she shoots a quick smile in Sefren's - and the other candidates' - directions, and tromps away, whistling off key. Oddball.
Annie escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.

Shaela frowns, watching Tavim leave. And he didn't even say goodbye. Hmph. Her lips form an infantile pout as she crosses her hands over her chest and strolls out as well.
Shaela goes home.

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