High Reaches' 10th PC Hatching

Pyrene's gold Cadgwith x Sii'kyn's brown Sidramuntalath and Vaeli's gold Nissionath x B'ane's bronze Aboleoth
2nd August 2003
Logged by Donis

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.
Gold Nissionath, gold Cadgwith, bronze Aboleoth, and brown Sidramuntalath are here.
You see Mound of Eggs here.

Cadgwith's 6 PC eggs:

Acid Rain and Toxic Spills Egg
A deluge of acidic nature pours over this unfortunate ovoid; sweeping gusts of queasy puce and electric green mar a delightful liquid-blue background; piddling and pooling, the noxious liquids melt their way through the icy coloration. Mutated tadpoles of neon purple and a really odd brick-red color swim through the muddied waters, a nice counterpoint to the gold-toned salmon-looking creatures. Bile pours from above in polluted condensation, attacking the apex of this egg with fervor, the tinged-yellowgreen glassiness fusing with puce and green puddles to spiderweb over a serene background, toxins and filth being sole mire of pristine, crystalline waters.
Celtic Pool Egg
Otherworldly darkness blesses this egg for a time, yet out of the heavy umbrae steps a figure weighted with the knowledge of water. Mountains of gold coins and the weapons of men fall at her feet, and a waterfall cascades behind the figure like the cape of a goddess. A spring, frothing with the secrets of life, nourishes a grove of brilliant green and all who quest for a drink - and truth. Sacred is this image and egg, perhaps you'd do well to make an offering.
Fountain of Youth Egg
Ancient but forever young, eternity has become captured in the soft blues and foamy off-white that whirls and swirls around the shell of the egg in a soft crescendo. Darker tones twist across the top of the egg, a silent temptation. Undiscovered, it awaits nothing, only offers itself. Stripes of white travel down towards the base, where gray takes on stone-like texture. On the small side for an egg, the subtle shifts between shades of blue and the creeping white add to the secret of its hidden depths.
Into the Toilet Bowl Egg
Pale blue washes across the smooth eggshell, streaks of delicate white swirling in a clockwise direction around its surface. Little hints of golden yellow - slightly similar to the dam's hide - pool at the base of the egg, offerings to the porcelain gods. The whirr and twirr of serene latrine waters remains as slightly darker blue whisks across the top of the egg.
Ocean Crest Egg
The crest of the egg radiates a soft ocean green on one side, a tiny trail of white colored foam dances across the upper surface of the egg, leaving a shimmering trail of creamed colored innocence in its wake. Upon the other, fierce wisps of creamy wind patterns send a torrent of rushing white froth and foam to crest on the top of this silvery white egg. Circling around the bottom of the shell, with sinister intent, a blackened gray radiates tendrils of anger around the middle, before tingeing the purity of the surface with the darkness of the approaching storm, wave after wave rising from its very depths.
Sleeping with the Fishes Egg
Dastardly and dark shades of ebony sit at the base of the egg, a murky swamp with lighter gray hues meshed within. Dark blue and a paler counterpart of sea green shift and sway as the pulse of the ocean. Decaying bits of brown and fleshy pink are scattered across the egg. Occasionally, a bright flash of color appears - violet, jade, orange. All swirl around, darting in and out of the deep, unfriendly shades.

Nissionath's 8 PC eggs:

A Flicker in the Dark Egg
An egg warmed by fire and made beautiful with but a few flashing flames is shadowed by a velvety looking shell of dusky dark gray, deep greens, and a fine-grained rocky brown. Deep red flames flicker and climb the rounded sides from the bottom of the egg, as if its bed of coals were continually sending sparks towards the top of the shell: mesmerizing, hypnotizing, enthralling, engaging.
Firefly Crashing Into Chinese Lantern Egg
This ovoid is the distressing recipient of many, many different features: from scarily burning strips of kid-cut construction paper (multicolored, from pink to orange to black again) to the odd insect-looking figure sketched out between the near-burnt-up swath of white and the quickly-ashing purple and back again, it spells out Odd with a capital O. A merry strip of peach-orange ranges over the top, while the incessant lick of orange-red flames try gutsily to combat the white-hot light of the burning insect-scribble. Childish non-harmony of colors is disrupted, burnt to a crisp, and generally abused - but who can't feel for the plight of the poor firefly?
Flame-forged Steel Sword Egg
Flash! Spark! Zjjing! The roiling red waves of crackling fire immerse this egg in hellish hue, the efforts of the forge spiraling ever upwards, never ceasing demanding pace: crackles of vintage silver and a backdrop of glowing-orange fire-fresh steel offer little compensation to this eyeblinding terror of the sands; it's red, it's fire, and when it burns, it burns - can't you already feel the sizzle?
Forged from Hate Egg
The surface of this egg gives one the illusion of a heat so intense that it's molten lava. Variants of deep crimson bleed languidly as they crash together with streaks of black, anger and hate coinciding in a demon's playground of anguish. Turmoils of unrelenting fire twist and wreak havoc among pulsating spots bursting, solidifying and melting again, the dark emotion bitterly sweeping towards an eternally moving destination.
Glory of the Sun Egg
Overshadowing its kin with pulsing heat, this egg may look as if it belongs up in the sky with Rukbat. Flamenco reds, neon orange and bursts of pale yellow radiate from the crown, to the bulging equator and down to the bottom. Solar flares, explosions resulting from the intense mixtures of colors, ignite in a shape like the tails of runners or your traditional tongues of flame. Consuming itself, it will burn with unrivalled intensity but will eventually be its own demise in the end.
Out of the Ashes Egg
A panoply of color rises from the ashen bottom of this small egg like a phoenix; scarlet and saffron edge every dusky hue as the feathered tones ripple and swerve from the darkish base to the flame-seared upper reaches. Gold and green, magic's blue, wand's brown, copper's bronze: all the colors of Dragon are here in a phlogiston of brilliant tones and spirited spirals.
Shot Up Pink Flamingos And Burning Trailers Egg
Blaring pink and rusty metal provide the not-so-perfect backdrop for enraged licks of orange-red flames and blank dark spots, the latter clearly outlined by crisps of cream and darkened circlets of pitch. Indeed, the eyeblindingly bright, obnoxious glimmers of pink are terribly outstanding, badly hidden behind the feverish lump of rust, corroded metal and the ever-present, brightly beaming flames, rising from the base to top the egg off with all the subtle nature of a solar flare.
Spirit of Courage Egg
Incandescent in the heat of the sands, this blazing white orb is almost perfectly spherical in shape. Its surface bears no markings except those cast by shadow and light, a shifting interplay of glittering rays refracting off the sands and darker shadows that never quite succeed at subduing the courage within evident in its stance, if an egg could be said to have such.

Cadgwith's remaining 15 NPC eggs:

Backpacker's Water Bottle Egg
Sturdy is perhaps the best word to describe the appearance of this egg. While it definitely is just as fragile as all other eggs, it has an air of durability about it, as though even the most rough and tumble efforts could not crack it. Taller and more slender than most, it is more cylindrical than ovoid. Its smooth shell is marred by numerous small scratch markings, and muddy brown prints that track like a band around the middle.
The rough shell of this short and misshapen ovoid is smothered in an exuberant yellow, so cheerful it almost burns the eyes of onlookers. This caustic backdrop is splattered with blotches of olive, which, although two-dimensional, seem to penetrate into the depths of the egg. These pores emit an unnerving air of innocent folly and reckless bliss, like bone-chilling laughter that seeks to entrap all who are willing to join in it.
Cool Watery-Effect Wormhole Egg
Blunted silvery metal, etched and whorled with undecipherable runes, arches around this egg in a broad swatch of color. From bottom to top and back again, the snug-fitting band frames two proportional pools of rippling liquid blue. Indeed, the very image of light dancing across the top of slowly moving water is reflected within the two circles; mesmerizing and deliberately balanced, the shell appears both mystical and enigmatic. Combined with the strange symbols and the glinting silver of the banded meridian, the egg balances beguiling invitation with the brooding foreboding of an intriguing taboo.
Day on the Beach Egg
Sea-tossed surf covers the inky indigo surface, flecks of foam showing the exterior and glittering like water caught in the rays of the sun. Generally receding on another side, the ocean spray discloses intriguing shapes like those of scalloped and conch shells which serve as the ocean's gift to you. Not any mere flotsam or debris, but treasure for those beach-combers who take the time to look for it.
Dog's Water Bowl Egg
It's vaguely round, in the eggish ovoid sense - and metallic looking. A dull chrome plates this rather boring egg from head to toe, figuratively speaking: the monotonous color is broken only by scribbles of blocky mock-writing at the very top, oddly akin to some sort of engravement. Shinyshinyshiny breaks out over half the egg - slippery-looking and very watery, the slosh of extra veneer doesn't come without contrast: a few brown smidges that look oddly like bloated canine kibble are littered here and there, along with a milky schmear down at the edge. Hey, wait - is that slobber?
Fish Abuse Egg
Stagnant and stale greens mixed with murky patches of mud brown sway over the height of the egg's grainy hull, underneath which choked, phosphorescent light strays down to more smudges of seaweed. Dabbed upon the surface are a few points of tropical color: neon blues and reds near the pink of silvery cherries, all belly up and tucked into slim vines of lime-hues. Near the sand-line, milky-brown specks like gravel unevenly coat the base of the egg, a putrid sludge coating the upper crust like a mishmash of fall's dead leaves.
Goldfish Bowl Egg
Speckled swirls of rainbow and refracted light play along the vitreous surface of this large egg in a dance of colors; frosted white, weaver's lavender, a flash of blue, a hint of teal, a flush of pale pale rose. The glassine shell holds no castles or kelp, but only the occasional flash of dancing devious carp-orange gold. Then it is gone.
Guardian of the River Egg
The curves of this pearly egg take on a firmer, more confident line than its clutchmates. Highlights of a milky sea-green wash across it in sinuous patterns, curls upon curls in a tight embrace twined with slender ribbons of white. At some times they darken mysteriously, but at other times they dance, floating in an almost joyous manner over the blue-tinged backdrop.
Morning Dewdrop Egg
Undersized and seeming plain from a distance, the surface of the egg is doused in ghostly white. Almost glittery, faint touches of silver slide down the surface. A faint, almost unnoticeable glimmer of green is present at the base of the egg, lines striating upwards like grass. Spring's sunrise shimmers in almost invisible hints of pink and orange, just touching the silver to create a subtle rainbow sparkle. Drip, and day has begun.
Mountain Waterfall Egg
A cascade of pale blue and white crashes upon a shade of green that holds the bright hue of leaves after rainfall. The silence of high peaks finds itself in winding, slow spirals of white across the top of the egg, which fall into the dark tones of the earth - brown and stone gray. A hint of green mingles with the blue at a dense pool of color at the base of the egg, fresh flecks of coral and yellow to reflect water's shade.
Puddle on the Floor Egg
Shades of gray and black pebble this egg, random patterns giving it a stony appearance rather like that of the living cavern floor. One end, however, seems to have encountered an accident of some kind. A liquidy area distorts the lines, blurring them and tinting the color slightly. This anomaly spreads out from one end, encompassing a good portion of the egg in a suspicious puddle.
River Rafting Egg
Deft, twisting shades of pale blue, gray, and white mingle and mix in rapid succession. Splotches of tan form odd barriers to the pattern, winding upwards from the base, with white splashed around them. Chaos reigns at the base of the egg, stone-gray and lively blue clashing, before it comes to a strange serenity. Closer to the top of the egg, soft swirls of color exist without conflict, the river gone silent.
Rockpool Egg
Bright, sunny, reflective sky-blue lies restful over the serene shell of this average-sized egg. But seaweed green lays a slippery trap across its base, crab-orange scuttling in and out of the algae-patterns; shrimp-pink and fish-silver dart and flicker along the egg's sides, toying with the undercurrents of wavering anemone-red.
Sewage Tank Overflow Egg
Green and brown splash wildly across the surface of this egg - not pretty, forest shades of green and brown, mind you, but nasty, sticky, oozy shades that fade sometimes to black. The colors glisten wetly, giving them a liquid sheen reminiscent of the deepest, most disgusting regions of the latrines, the association so strong that it's almost surprising when there isn't a smell to accompany the sight. Something this incredibly putrid-looking can induce the gag reflex just as effectively without smell, though.
Watery Watcher Egg
This little egg is split in two, a perfect pairing of black on one side and a pale blue on the other. From a distance it would appear that there're no other colours at all on it's surface, but closer inspections show hints of green around the joining edge; little leafy patches of colour that offer cover to whatever mystery lurks inside the dark half and casts only a faint shadow of grey along the base of the egg.

Nissionath's remaining 16 NPC eggs:

Beach Bonfire Egg
Sizzling and crackling, flecks of amber and orange dance across a vast, swirling blob of midnight blue and light tan. Sky, ocean, and sand mingle together, pale white spots scattered across the surface. A blaze of scarlet and amber bursts from the base of the egg, a celebratory dance of color and shading that finds contrast with the darkness. Eternal night's glory is reflected in the oversized egg, not hint of dawn's rosy pink to destroy the revelry.
Campfire in the Woods Egg
Darkness enshrouds this egg - not the paltry, shrinking darkness of an unlit moon, but the absolutle black that can only be found in the depth of the wilderness on a moonless night. The uniform inkiness is alleviated only in one spot, near the middle, where color flares abruptly. Red and orange and yellow blossom, flames licking across the shell in a battle with the night. Vague shapes can be seen immediately around them, reminiscent of weary faces huddled around the fire's warmth.
Desire the Fire Egg
Smoke rises in thick plumes, hot and heavy, fluidly snaking through every possible free space. Coils, like that of a viper, slither onto the surface and out again in clandestine pursuit. But wait, the veil parts only for an instant to flaunt a lead-grey base played down with throbbing pulses of maroon red and enticing tangerine flames. Coals, sharing the heat of the sun, really make up the heart of the ovoid's exterior pattern, but masking its creator, the wisps of smoke soon invade once more. Better move fast if you want to remain unscathed.
Flaming Cheese Egg
Melted butter slides gold across the creamy cheese-hued surface of this large egg, pooling grease and flavor into every softly porous cleft and crack. A pale yellow fromage claims the shell itself, almost devoid of color until it explodes in a conflagration of crimson and azure fire, virulent, vibrant oranges, eclectic, electric blues and the delicious flashing of burnt bronze and umber that smoke down the darkside of the egg. A true delight, this delicacy, bold and bright and beautiful.
Flaming Lamborghini Egg
The smoothness of cream, the jolt of coffee, the raw-gold of whiskey; all these blend in a soft swirl of delicate brown across the base of this egg. But bursting up its sides is a furious mix of white-hot aniseed and flaming blue-orange, to test the bravest of souls.
Foom! Pyromaniac Egg
A single flame bursts into a cacophony of frenzied laughter, a dance of primal joy that manifests in volcanic shades of red and orange spilling down the surface of the egg. A fizz of pale gray dusts over the shades, acting as a smoke-like curtain, obscuring the vibrant colors. A mocking giggle, a touch of flame, and oval-shaped splotches of yellow blaze across the base of the egg. A flick of a match, and brilliant yellow and orange splatters the top of the egg, sizzling into a few black-scorch specks of oblivion.
Glowing Embers Egg
Gritty shades of dark gray, ebony, and faint ash dust the base of the egg, with the touches of black scattering upwards. Hints of deep crimson accent the darkness, peeking out here and there, while further flecks of brilliant orange dance across the surface, ensnared in pale smoke. A flash of midnight hints at the top of the egg, sky through the shadows, into which the gray and vivid orange swirl carelessly.
Hurricane Lamp Egg
It is a petite, rather innocuous egg, yet there is a subtle glow that surrounds the leathery surface. Radiance emanates from a lustrous blemish, seemingly from the core of the glowing egg. The shell frolicks with a jade hue, picking up the light in fragments, like an artist composing a mosaic. A flicker of orange glitters here, and fades to a darkened shadow towards the base.
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire Egg
Fwoom! Up with the smoke, down with the trousers. On the large side, the egg is drenched in corduroy brown, with licking, lusty shades of red that dance up from the base. Taunting shades of yellow and amber dust the surface, a smirking line of gray that curves upwards, a fierce grin after the flames. Vengeful shades of deep crimson find their satisfaction as appear in small, sparking flecks across the top.
Melting Marshmallow Egg
Red and orange intermingle across this shell, turning it's fragile surface into an explosion of colour so intense that it should burn any who dared to touch it. A large blob of creamy white marrs the tip, its edges blackened where it oozes down and meets the bright flames of color and a battle of will begin.
Nuclear Boom Egg
Ka-boooom! Shock waves ripple across this egg, its plain brown surface disrupted in explosive, concentric circles. The origin of the disruption? A large splash of red and orange and yellow, an epicenter of color amidst so much plain gray-brown. The jagged mushroom cloud virtually screams "duck and cover," a warning to any who might be too deceived by its otherwise boring appearance.
Reign of Fire Egg
Fire reigns down the shell of this large egg in an inferno of color: crimson and black, flame-gold, sear-blue, explosions of green and ashen grey. A blaze. A conflagration. A burning pyre of civilization destroyed in a dragon-born blaze of incandescence. Every curve and crack in the leathery shell is kindled with fires, banked in ash, and smoked to a crisp, Crom-coal black at the very edge.
Trogdor the Burninator Egg
It is an egg. It is a dragon egg. 'Neath a strange, scaly-type pattern of V's - consummate V's! - and even a few physical ridges bumping along the surface, this egg is a flat shade of green, except for a streak of fire-orange that screams all the way around it, a narrow band of flame burninating its way through the plain surroundings. Burninating through the couple of thin, arrow-like splatters of brown near the apex, and burninating through a few silvery freckles like the tinted, dented armor of some pathetic cavalry at the base. Yet, all told, this is a pretty plain, lame-looking egg that seems to be resting perpetually askew, always off-kilter in the Sands.
Walking on Hot Coals Egg
Crimson sizzles along the base of the egg, popping shades of orange and yellow creeping along to create a strange, heated mess of color. Dark shades of brown and coal-black are mixed into the bright shades. Smoke rises, sharp swirls and thin, pointed shapes that pattern across the near white of the rest of the shell. Dangerous patterns dance together, a rite of passage that gives way into the flames.
Windthrown Fireweed Egg
Whorls of silver and white spin across the shell of this small egg like a summer storm: grey-gold sky, flashes of blue, the pale soft fluffiness of distant (and more friendly) clouds. But it is the winds of ethereal hues that spin the field of fireweed into an endless cascade of green about the egg. The rich weedy green of leave and stem is tossed hither and tither beneath the crimson and purple cap of new bright blossoms.
Will-O-Wisp Egg
Elven greens carpet this bantam egg, laying down a forest of moss and rowan from one rounded end to t'other. A path of pebbles in silver and grey meander about the sweeping suggestion of branch and leaf, while the rippling greeny depths of the swamp melt away to either side. But hold. What's this? Flashes of fairy-fire and will-o-wisp in arcane emeralds tempt the traveler from the path and into the murky depths of the unknown.

Candidate Barracks
Serviceable, this low-ceiling'd room runs right and left from the heavy canvas curtains that function as a door: relatively bare of ornamentation, tidy glows light the few worn tapestries that adorn the walls and depict a variety of dragons in flight or at rest. But it is the cots, lots and lots of cots, that distinguish this room from the others, their blue or black coverlets tucked neatly over relatively fresh rushes.
Candidate's haven, this is their escape from the bustling world of chores and Weyr; visitors are welcome if invited.

[Candidate descs logged because there was a challenge/dare to include the words 'buns', 'uuuh', and 'naked' in the robe descs.]

Shaggy brown hair falls haphazardly across Adrin's forhead, and hangs unevenly into his brown eyes. A pronounced nose draws the most attention of his features, long, narrow, and kind of crooked when looked at from a certain angle. He's short, and more on the chubby side than the thin, although the more generous would call him stocky. His complexion is dark, scattered with a few unexpected freckles across his large nose. All in all, he's more awkward looking than anything, almost out of place in his own body.
It's another white, white, white candidate robe. Boring. The pillow-case white makes up Adrin's neatly stitched robe. It's a snug fit to his stocky body, ending just below his knees. He must be attempting to prove his bravery to someone - a pretty girl, perhaps, with cute… uuuh, buns? - because no sandals clad his feet, leaving them naked to the heat of the sands.
He is a teenager of about 15.

A small, heart shaped face is surrounded by a cascade of sun-streaked, slightly wavy blond hair that falls to the small of her back. Pale, thick-lashed hazel eyes waver between a light blue and green, depending on the quality of the sun, and a smatter of freckles cover the small nose and cheeks with full lips resting underneath. Soft pale skin rarely tans or burns, and the sun seems only to add more childlike spots. She stands a petite 5'4, but looks smaller at times because of her small bones and tendency to round her shoulders rather than stand up perfectly straight.
Someone's been going a little, uuuh…overboard on her candidate robe. Although it follows the basic pattern for a piece of cloth meant to cover a naked body out on the Sands, there are little embellishments here and there on the white cloth. Wavy, interlocking patterns are raised in white thread along the neck and hemline, and it is extremely well put together. It is a snug garment that Alasse can snuggle into if she's frightened, much as a child might hide their head under a pillow. A white belt hugs the cloth to her waist, and it skims over lightly over her buns. Unfortunately, it only accentuates curves that could be curvier and unwomanly muscles made hard from Turns of riding and
months of hard labor as a candidate.
She is a teenager of about 16.

A sweet youth, this lass, with hair the color of sunlight on sand and eyes of summer-sky blue. She is middling, in size, middling in shape, and neither too pretty, too tall, too short, or too dumpy. A few cheerful freckles mark her nose and cheeks. Overall, she is naught but a regular girl just into her teenage turns, with her bright hair usually caught up in a simple ponytail.
Dressed like a dream or at least like a pillow, a roll of once white but now faded to an 'uuuh' shade of newsprint-grey fabric wraps around her, somehow tacked into snug position while leaving arms and lower legs naked. Sticky handprints down the side suggest pre-hatching activities involved buns. Hopefully buns, anyway.
She is a teenager of about 14.

The gray of a winter dusk lurks in those deep-set eyes, placed as they are above fairly prominent cheekbones. The barest snub of a nose leads down to her small, pouty mouth, and a strong chin completes the shape of her face. Tresses of unruly, auburn hair have grown as long as possible and curl their way almost to the small of her back, and spill over her forehead and into her eyes. She stands a bit short for her age, with thin arms and frail legs - one may suspect she's taking after her father's height. However, there is a stubborn strength in her that speaks of a temper, contrasting her physical appearance.
Uuuh… it's a white robe. Obviously. The naked white snugs her skinny frame as it hangs loosely from her shoulders to her calves. It looks neat at first, but upon closer inspection, the rough, uneven stitches can be seen - and the clean fabric isn't very /new/. Actually, it looks like it could've previously been an old pillow-case that has been snagged for the purpose. Her hair is not set in buns, but rather it's been gathered into a long, simple white band that leaves it hanging like a llamatail down her back.
She is a teenager of about 14.

Caeran is a lanky young man that is already very tall. A mop of tawny brown hair, clean but in need of combing, tops his peculiarly high forehead. This and his lengthy limbs give him an appearance that is more unusual than it is handsome. Bushy eyebrows, a square jaw, and large ears compose his facial features, along with a generous dotting of acne. He is tanned by long hours spent outdoors. There is a glint in his viridian eyes that seems to denote a challenging nature. His thin lips are almost always pursed into a smile.
The white robe he wears is a little, uuuh…abnormal. It is far too short for him, and it is very snug on his thin body. Obviously, it was tailored to a much smaller Caeran. A thin white belt, made from a shredded pillow case, adorns it. The whole ensamble is covered with stains (from sticky buns, perhaps?) and the stitching is uneven. Nonetheless, it is better than going naked.
He is a teenager of about 15.

Honey-gold curls are pinned back on both sides of Celeste's round face, the ringlets hanging to just past her chin. Her wide eyes are a deep liquid bronze color, framed by honey-light lashes. A smudge of freckles sweeps across her plump cheeks and round nose, and small dimples bookend her wide mouth, predisposed to smiles. Although adolescence has added a touch of grace to her movements, Celeste's body remains short and pudgy, and seems to have never lost some of it's baby fat. Her chubby hands and feet lead to chubby limbs, which in turn lead to a pleasantly plump tummy and torso.
Celeste's apparent lack of sewing skills have left her with a white gown more closely resembling a pillow-case than a robe, with wide holes for the arms and head. It fits the, uuuh, 'pleasantly plump' Healer girl snugly, especially around her hips and buns, before abruptly ending with an uneven hem just above her knees, leaving the rest of her legs naked to the heat of the sands. Simple sandles, who's soles don't appear up to the challange of keeping out the heat, are strapped to her feet.
She is a teenager of about 17.

A round face is eternally youthful, bordering on cherubic with proud-appled cheeks that are quick to smile and bright mud-brown eyes. Small pink lips are a splash of color on pale skin, as are beetle-black eyebrows; his matching black hair is close-cropped now, all his ringlets shorn away - revealing the shiny new scar just below the hairline and above his left eye. He's getting taller and leaner, but still has that short stature, attributable to genetics and age; legs and arms are faintly wiry from the movements of restless muscles.
Donis is wearing a Candidate robe… well, uuuh, presumably that's what it is, although it could very well be just a long white pillowcase with a belt around the middle. The armholes are perhaps a little too snug - Donis's arm movements may be restricted - while the neck is much too loose. The robe isn't as pristine as it should be, either, with more than a few marks (probably from klah mugs and sticky buns) down the front. All in all, Donis would be better dressed if all of him was naked, not just his feet.
He is a teenager of about 15.

Silken black hair and sea-blue eyes suit this lanky young man, as does his shy smile and easy manner. His straight and inky hair is cropped short at the back, but left longer in the front to get into his eyes and tickle his ears and cheeks. Just slightly tall, Rish already manages to carry himself with a certain flair and flourish, as if a Harper's blood ran in his veins.
Uuuh, shouldn't someone have told this guy what a robe is supposed to look like? He definitely just tore holes in someone's old pillow case and threw it over his otherwise naked body. But the pillow case was white, at least, and isn't quite as snug as a more tailored garment might be. Another towel-like thing has been sewn onto the bottom, so at least his buns won't be naked for those viewing from the Galleries.
He is a teenager of about 19.

Straight strands of dark black hair fall to just beyond her shoulders. Sectioned portions of braids fall from various positions on her head, swept back to the base of her skull where a dark blue band draws them into one main tail. Her brows arch above big, blue eyes. A pert nose resting beneath with a dusting of freckles across the bridge. Her lips are of a rosy shade, cradeled just above a rounded chin.
Naked. White. Yes, naked white covers Kaesa from her neck to just below her knees. A swirl of fabric coming around to snug her knees in a billow of of soft fabric. The pillow of white continues upon her shoulders, leaving off only at the open bare-holes that appear there. Uuuh… bare armholes? On a robe? You betcha buns!
She is a teenager of about 16.

Trimmed hair flows to her earlobes, the gold-blond hair poofs out slightly around her long face. Slightly longer stripes curve around her cheeks and are tucked behind delicately formed ears. The change in length draws attention to the light flush that always seems to inhabit her high cheekbones. Pale lashes cushion golden-flecked eyes of emerald, while arched brows racing across her high forehead. A small, yet proportionate, nose is covered with renegade freckles, while full lips bloom with the color of pink carnations. Rather slender, having muscles rather then just skin and bones, she reaches almost 5'10. Her tanned body is graced with womanly curves and a slender waist, as well as a few pale scars that never seem to go away.
A robe resembling something like a white pillowcase with holes cut in it is tossed over her form, keeping this candidate from simply being naked. The cloth is snug around her form is certain places, although quite loose as it falls past her buns to her knees. Her hair is pulled back simply in a ponytail and thin white sandals clad her feet, which will more likely then not cause her to whimper 'Uuuh' throughout the hatching as the heat gets to her.
She is a young adult of about 23.

The slightly tousled brush of this teen's hair tickles at the nape of his neck just as the dark fringe cascades in a fallen rush over his forehead to oft overshadow a rare, yet vibrant gaze. Light wrecks havoc along those ebony locks of his, often shining to sloe-black at the least provocation. Irises of a glacial blue are set in almond-shaped eyes and framed with lashes just as dark and fine as his hair. His youthful features are finely angled, and nearly perfect in their beauty; the lines drawn with the same subtle touch that grants his skin its pale cast. With his nearly aesthetic features and despite the almost gaunt appearance, a lithe grace characterizes this youth's slightly less than average height as the low swell of toned muscles leave his wiry form distinctly svelte.
Virgin white cloth drapes over this young man's form, denying any fangirls a glimpse of naked chest or anything else that might just tempt their fancy. Despite being sleeveless, gentle folds slip over his shoulders, seeming to pillow upon them some before cascading down so that the cloth is drawn close to his waist with a not-so-snug fit by way of a braided robe. The tasseled ends of the rope bump slightly against a clothed leg. Uhhh… Of course, if one where to notice such things, the drape of the cloth seems to accentuate those tight buns of his just so. Leather thong sandals adorn his feet, having just a thick enough sole to hopefully keep most of the direct heat from the sands at bay.
He is a teenager of about 17.

Darkly blonde hair falls in soft waves to curl about his slender shoulders, a golden frame for a face more fair than young. Almond shaped eyes of vivid green and flecks of golden brown contrast nicely with gently wide lips the color of a tea rose, Kodi's usually relaxed countenance quick to show whatever emotion may be playing behind that delicate face. Slender almost to the point of willowy, Kodi's lithe body reaches a height just shy of six feet though his stature often makes him appear larger.
Simple white adorns Kodisan at the moment, though it appears to be stitched with a knowing hand. Uuuh… more than some, anyway, which resemble a pillow more than anything else. But not Kodi's. This one billows quite nicely over his shoulders, as soft as the frosting on a fresh batch of sticky buns. A closer look will show its snug lines as it hugs what little it can on the slim candidate. The robe does come a bit short, however, leaving his knees stark naked, though he did manage to remember sandals, for what little good they'll do.
He is a young adult of about 22.

Straight near-black hair hangs over her features as a silken night sky hangs ominously over the earth. Light shimmers only faintly as sloe fingers tickle no further than the crook of an elbow and the small of her back. A paleness draws the light towards her long face: sans freckles, sans blemishes, sans any sort of markings or coloring that could make the skin differ at points in texture and definition. Deep pools of pitch black sit as large eyes set above a small rounded nose and weatherworn lips. Eyebrows are defined as black streaks. She is taller than others of her age can be, around five foot seven, though her frame is mere bones and lanky muscle.
It's the naked truth: Lauria is dressed in a candidate's robe. Probably made from sewn together pillow cases, a long robe is draped down to her ankles. Not too snug, the only curve and form the robe takes is around her knees and her rear. Her hair is put up into a bun, but as her buns have been doing lately, it droops to one side of her head. Sandals are strapped on her feet. This uuuh… tuber-of-an-oufit… is tied in the middle by a white cloth belt; the only holes in it are for arms, legs and head.
She is a teenager of about 19.

With a light step and radiant presence, Lexia's glistening mahogany eyes sparkle and dance to portray each emotion with the skill of a starlet; chestnut locks, streaked with auburn and tawny highlights, seem eternally to fall into perfect ringlets that cascade and tumble to the small of her back with delightful nonchalance. Hints of mortal flaw cross her cherubic cheeks and upturned nose in the form of freckles, faded since youth but still apparent to those who come near. Roseate lips curl above a firm chin and slender neck, bottom lip eternally jut forth into a pout. Body is lithe and lean, legs gifting her with paternally endowed height, a bit taller than girls her age, and effortlessly sculpted into perfected curvature.
Uuuh, baby. The Smithlette temptress is draped in her snowy gown which fits snugly over her contours, from full bust to perky buns. With the tightness of the cling, it makes you wonder exactly how naked the candidate is under that gown - it /is/ hot, afterall, so she'd have an excuse. The top ties into a halter behind her neck, and the bottom hem is fashionably jagged. Embroidery has been added to the bottom by tedious work of her own hand: a dragon of each color in flight.
She is a teenager of about 17.

Curly sandy blonde hair covers his entire head and is usually closely cropped, but not overly so. His entire body is fair in skin tone and nicely built for his age. A pair of amber hued eyes always seem to portray his jaunty mood and compliment his facial appearance, along with his hair color quite nicely. Freckles sprinkle across his cheeks and nose as well, and the sides of his face are free from any sort of facial hair. Masculine features reveal a lad who has yet to fill out, although he's not too lanky and stands approximately 5'11 in height. His overall physique is also lean but not quite as toned as a Herder's.
Well. He's certainly not naked if that's what you're looking for. In fact, this candidate happens to be wearing a plain looking white robe for the time being. With absolutely no ruffles, frills, buttons or bows on it, the poor garment looks as simple as can be. It's pure white.. uuuh.. what would you expect? Since it was sewn by him - probably from the fabric of pillow cases or something, no doubt - it's not too snug in certain parts and thank /Faranth/ those cinnamon buns he dropped on his cot didn't get on his robe. Phew! A pair of sandals cling to his feet as well, making sure that he burns nothing.
He is a teenager of about 17.

The fellow before you is a tall and slender man. He's a bit over six feet tall, his legs making up most of his height. He moves with the grace of someone accostomed to being taller than everyone else, and he holds his head down a bit, looking as if he'd rather not bump it on a doorway. He looks almost too thin to support his own weight, despite the tone looked of his wiry muscles. Deep brown hair that is almost black falls in front of his eyes. His hair looks to be perpetually in need of a haircut because he wears so he has to flick it out of his way when he talks. The eyes that peer out from behind those slivers of hair are a bright mischevious blue, set deep in his face. The feral look in them gives the impression that he'd take almost any risk if it got him what he wanted. His smile is renowned in it's many existences. Be it grin, beam, or or just a regular smile they all end up quirky because of the tiny scar that pulls his upper lip to the side.
Made of the lightest and brightest white fabric Monty could finangle, these Candidate robes are fully functional and none too beautiful. The stitching is wide and the thread is thick, almost thicker than the fabric itself. In places, the stitching is so bad, it seems that you could read the word *Uuuh* written in the seams. The robes drape around his thin frame, causing his shoulders to stick out, *naked* and at odd angles from the sleeveless top, reaching just past his knees. That's where he's decided that they shouldn't go any farther and he's instead created a rather odd looking pair of pants. These have leather strings that tighten *snug* around his ankles and tuck inside, just in case he has to take a flying tumble to avoid an overanxious hatchling. The legs of the pants billow out, so that it's barely noticable where the over-robe ends and the under-pants begin. The neck of the over-robe is deep, leaving as much skin as possible exposed, showing off the few muscles Monty posseses, leaving nothing on his arms to *pillow* him in case he slips on the hot sands. On his feet his is wearing absolutely nothing, luckily, though the sands are certain to be harsh on his bare soles, perhaps to make a smell like baking sweet-*buns*.
He is a teenager of about 18.

Errant golden locks curl lazily in haphazard waves, falling to mid-back of this splendidly figured young woman. A relatively clear complection and straight features add to the general feel of loveliness, bright almond-shaped hazel eyes another 'pretty' point, if not perhaps as intelligent as they could be. Her face is a collected jumble of pert, upturned button nose and coral lips, angular chin and high forehead, all settled and placed in the proper manner. Of middling height and voluptuous curves, this one's chubby about the edges but not overly so, simply a rosy-cheeked youth of her generation.
Uuuh! Leave it to Pycia to have a robe that's perfectly made. It's a flawless white in color, as one might expect a pillow to be. The fit is excellent: not too loose, not too snug. Even the white belt loosely fastened around her waist is more of an afterthought than a necessity, though the sturdy sandals which her feet rest in surely are. The naked truth is, even bitter old aunties who wear their hair in buns would be delighted with such craftsmanship.
She is a teenager of about 18.

Tall and gangly, this young man is hard to miss in a crowd with his full head of pitch black hair cut in an unruly style, each strand seemingly going its own way. Mahogany eyes, so dark they appear black set in deep sockets shading the orbs even more so and giving him a shifty sort of appearance. Still only a teenager, he's already starting to grow beard, though it's still only stubble on his chin and not much to brag about. Long limbs gives him an uneven, unfinished appearance as if he still has some growing to do until he fits into the 5'10 body.
Fitting snugly to his body like a pillowcase around its pillow, Reuben white robe is sewn with expertise not expected of a male Candidate. Sleeveless, it leaves his arms naked and reveals intricate white lines painted on his flesh down toward the wrists. Looking very traditional, this robe has neither belt nor rope to tie around the waist and comes down around his buns in shapeless folds, the hem ending just below his knees. Thick-soled sandals cover his feet, to give some reprise from the heat of the uuuh-so-hot Sands.
He is a teenager of about 19.

The nearly talc-white sheen of her face is echoed across her body, indicative of the near-translucence of her skin. Sharp edges on her skeleton jut out as knobs at her cheekbones, shoulders and wrists; her tall, willowy figure arcs so that she seems as if she is eternally bent, swaying in an omnipresent wind. Only some pink sunburn across her thin forearms and the sharp edges of her cheekbones give a clue as to where she's from, besides the knot on her gaunt shoulder. Curtains of long, sandy hair surround her angular face, brushing her wide cheekbones to droop to a virtually non-existent bust. Her eyes would be considered hazel, but the grey-green shades are somehow deepened by sun-bleached lashes and pale, gently-arced eyebrows.
The ceremonial uniform of the candidate plainly drapes Ulimi's otherwise naked body. However, this robe seems to have been made with as little effort as possible, a white pillow sheet with three hemmed holes at the top for her head and arms. The robe, snug and long, hangs to the middle of her thighs, hiding backside and a pair of… uuuh… buns that seem almost non-existent. The robe is so thin, and the white cord of a belt is so small that it enhances her skinniness to the point where she seems as if she would fall off her thin sandals at the slightest pushing.
She is a teenager of about 17.

This young woman stands at around 5 foot 8 tall, but is no skinny delicate thing by any stretch of the imagination; her physical appearance is best described as stocky. Her round face is framed by dark brown hair that falls to just under her jaw and is tucked back behind her ears in an attempt at keeping it from getting in her way. Her eyes are a rich chocolatey brown, topped with dark eyebrows that almost meet over her thick, hooked nose and wide mouth, which is generally pulled up in a smile.
Yards of white pillow material have been tailored into a candiates robe, more accurately tailored to fit Zarelyn. Miniscule sleeves end just below her shoulders, leaving her arms naked, and the scooped neck boasts two little points - one stretching up from each shouler seam and slightly up her neck. The base seam swishes around her knees and to complete the ensemble a belt has been made from the same material and is tied snugly around her waist. Her seemingly perfected robe is marred however by a faint footprint just at her backside - stitching may be good but storage obviously wasn't.
She is a young adult of about 22.

Hatching Sands> Nuff leaves Tiareth to a ledge and hops down onto the Sands with a cheery wave. "Vaeli said I could", she says, up front to Pyrene. And, because its unlikely the Weyrwoman will beat her up on Hatching Day, "I want to watch the Weyrfolk from right in close."

Amehgani blinks at the stamped foot. "OK, although I'm not sure what I can do for a dragonet. But I can put my robe on…" A little unnerved by the bluerider's vehemence, she hastily shucks her clothes and pulls on a candidate robe, with neat sandals replacing her usual boots. "Are you sure we can't wear boots?" she asks mournfully, regarding the flimsy things.

Lauria's go wide, as the many candidates around her are jumping out of their cots in panic. "Wait. What?" She's rather belatd. "Robes? You mean, those… white ones?" Well, obviously. She rolls out of her bed, grabbing at the nearby pillowcase - which seems to be her robe. "Robe. Robe…" Out of the pajamas, into the robe. Sort of like 'out of the frying pan, into the fire'.

Sii'kyn rocks back on his heels, seemingly serene to watch the chaos. "I'm talking about the -hatching-," he replies smoothly to Monty- Lucan gets a slow beam, because Ike remembers not being able to find his sandals. Lauria earns a narrowing of the eyes. "Hatching robe, candidate. I didn't expect even -you- to be /that/ daft." Twitch-snigger. He nods slowly at Celeste. "Yup, that's the hummin'," he acknowledges. "Good one, Tye," he approves. Good yell.

Pycia squeals in a mix between terror and excitement. "Oh! Dragons!" That /is/ why she's here, but the blonde girl seems surprised nonetheless. "Isn't this ex/ci/ting, everyone?!" She beams around her, hoping for an enthusiastic reply from all her fellow candidates.

Donis fumbles under his cot, giving up and reappearing to rummage in his locker. Careless of any modesty, he flings shirt and trousers aside and pulls on his mangled robe before diving back into the locker. "I can't find my sandals!" he whines.

Hatching Sands> Pyrene wrinkles her nose at Nuff. "Just remember you're relinquishing wing-command as of right now," she tells her. "Now, who brought the wine?"

Monty dragged on his robes as fast as he could. Or once he had the bottoms on, he pulled the drawstring tight. And then slipped on the overtunic. "Okay, okay, okay… " The only one that had actually mentioned the word Hatching… "Gah, I didn't get sandels!" And after all that time… and now… "Shards!" After Pyrene and Vaeli had made sure he *knew* how hot those sands were.

Hatching Sands> Sleeping with the Fishes Egg jerks a little bit. Coming soon to a Hatching Sands near you…

Adrin looks startled for half a second, and then smooths his features to disguise the momentary look of panic that crossed them. "About time," he comments idly. Nevermind that he's only been here a sevenday. He takes his time gathering his robe, and changing into it.

Zarelyn tosses her comb down and gets her sandals on. A strange order to her dressing she looks round panicy and then spots her robe - under her feet. With a squeal she gets off it and begins to brush at the footprint on her bum, pulling her robe on and turning round and round to see if it still shows.

Hatching Sands> Nuff folds her arms in a sulk and huffs softly. "I didn't lose nobody", she points out in an almost unheard mutter. "It wasn't all that bad." But soon she's all wrinkles and smiles again, "Still, less work for me? It's a deal. Esprit is all yours." Including the new purple scarfs Nuff knit for winter. "Oh look, some of Nissionath's Eggs are moooving."

Hatching Sands> "Cadge hummed first," Pyrene says loftily. "And you may not have lost any dragons, Nuff, but the groundcrew came close. Although, that was to be expected with Esprit so small. Don't tell him I said so, but Donis did a sterling job in keeping them together."

"Yes." Tye snaps out to Amehgani, "It's the sandals or nothing at all. Your choice. Though it is mighty painful to step out onto those sands for an extended period of time without anything protecting your feet. I don't suggest it." Her own boots are looked down at for a second, before a beam is sent over to the weyrleader. "Why thank you, Sii'kyn." Tye chuckles to herself and goes over to stand by the side, watching the chaos with amusement. "Are any of them actually ready yet? Shards and shells, my group didn't even take this long."

Kibai stifles another yawn, and then leans over to offer a firm kick to Kaesa's cot. "Wake up, dimglow." Naturally, spoken in his cultured tones. So polite -or not. He slides off of his cot and to the stone floor. Clothes press is opened and held open carefully so it doesn't snap shut on his fingers for about the millionth time. Robe is pulled out and *SMACK* shut goes the lid, so very close to his fingers.

Alasse stands in her white robe and sandals, looking pale as milk while she waits for additional instructions. She's breathing very heavily in her nervous state, and wringing her hands as she looks at the riders. As an afterthought, she reaches back to tie her hair up in a messy knot, which keeps it sort of out of the way.

"I can't find my sandals!" Donis whines again, overhearing Tye. Most of his belongings are now strewn over his cot and there's no sign of the footwear. "Oh, shells…" He scowls, and heads barefoot towards Tye and Sii'kyn. "Guess I'll just have to be brave. Or stupid. Or something. Hey, Lucan, Caeran - want to stand with me?"

Zarelyn keeps on spinning. "Can you see it? Can you see it?" For one so determined she's not a hope this side of the red star, she's definitely in a panic. "I can't go with a footprint on my backside. They'll laugh."

Amehgani stares at Zarelyn, a trifle dizzily. "I can't see it," she declares finally. "And the dragonets will only see your front anyway."

Lauria is always pale, and therefore resembles a ghost as she stands, dark hair up in a very sloppy bun. She has sandals on - doesn't want to damage those pale little feet - and is standing, shaking slightly.

Lucan pulls the white robe on and gets situated with it on as best he can. It better stay together since /he/ sewed it with absolutely no help from any seamstress. His heart is beating wildly now as he shoves his chore clothes and boots underneath his cot, slipping on his sandals as he does. Ike's knot is then gently plucked from the shirt and placed on his cot.. he has to return it to him after this. "Sure, Donis.." he manages to reply with a small grin.

Sii'kyn grins slightly at Donis. "You're gonna be slathering on numbweed for sevendays," he warns. "Candidates, line up, line up! Two lines, please, and try not to jitter too much." Grin, grin. And when he doesn't think that works, he, uh, yells. "-Candidates-! LINE UP!" Bellow. There. That works. (Hopefully.)

Caeran gets the robe on finally in all the excitement, it's hard not to get caught up in it all. "Umm yeah sure Donis." He moves to stand with Donis in preperation for going out. "So how long do you think this is gonna take?"

Monty nods in agreement to Amehgani, "Naw… no footprint." He shivers at the sound reverberating from the walls, "Hey, Lauria… you okay?" She was looking a little bitty bit pale, but since Monty'd given up on the whole sandals thingy… He then blinked at Sii'kyn and tried to figure out where the line was.

Flourish is staying in his little corner of the barracks where he's attempting to make his robe look more like a robe. Giving up with a dramatic sigh, however, he simply sits on a cot, folds his hands on his lap and watches the others. He's not nervous one bit. Nope. That's why his entire body is shaking.

Sii'kyn tacks on, "From the door, y'know."

"It'll be over before you know it, Caeran," Donis replies to his friend, shuffling into the queue with a rueful look at his bare feet.

Ulimi sits for a moment, but simply has too much nervous energy. So she stands. And paces. Pacing near Donis, Lucan, and Caeran, she stops before them and says, "Can I, you know, Stand with you guys?" Gulp. "P-please?" And then the call to line up comes and she's already scooting into place.

Lucan makes sure his sandals are on just so and stands up straight now. He then leaps into line with the rest of the candidates, Ulimi and Donis close by. "I can't believe we're gonna go out there now.." he says to them both.

Zarelyn nods to Amehgani and Monty, calmed a little. "Good. My father would never have let up if he could see it."

Lauria turns towards Monty, with wide dark eyes. "I'm. Fine. It's just the dragons, they're shaking the floor…" Excuses, excuses. Striding towards the lines, she scans the crowd for someone to stand with. Or perhaps hold onto. Just in case she decides to faint.

Kodisan jumps a little at Sii'kyn's bark, but he's as ready as he ever will be. His sandals are tied a bit tighter, the robe is checked for… gaps. But all seems well, so he nervously shuffles into some sort of a line.

Kaltia clambers into line with the rest of the candidates, words of luck and excitement leaving her lips. She smiles some, but she can't help her anxiousness. And hope.

Celeste, now neatly robed, shuffles into line, apparently beside Lauria. "Can I stand with you," she half-whispers toward the other girl, her nerves clearly visible.

Lauria nods, quickly, immediately grabbing Celeste's hand. "Yes."

Alasse moves into line with the other candidates, face set to keep herself from shaking too badly. She's unaware of the other candidates as she moves, ignoring those who are turning to other for support.

Amehgani ducks into line near Llewellyn and Pycia. "Stand with you?" she whispers, fearfully.

Reuben slips into his robes with the rest, suddenly quiet and very very still. He takes his place in line with the rest, just as quietly. Only his wide wide eyes and his obsessive rubbing of his palms betrays his excitement.

Monty nods at Lauria, grinning when she snatches Lauria's hand. Then he's found the line! Yay!

Adrin is still doing his best to not look nervous, and saunters into the line, arms crossed in front of him. He will /not/ be holding hands, thanks. That's for silly swoony girls.

Hatching Sands> Trogdor the Burninator Egg shudders, the consummate Vs starting to show hairline cracks. Time to burninate.

Auryn grimaces at Sii'kyn - no need to yell! - and she moves towards the line, ending up near Celeste and Pycia. The latter girl grabs on to the nearest candidate, which happens to be Monty, and clings to him. Tightly. "Eee, I'm so nervous!" Her nails digging into his hand speak for themselves.

Kibai drags on his robe, wrapping a rope about his waist to bring it close to his form. Feet slip into the leather thong sandals, and he gives another jolt to Kaes' cot to try to rouse sister-dear once more. "Get up, Kaesa. It is time." And he doesn't mean time for a potty break, but now would be a good time to do that if necessary.

Hatching Sands> Firefly Crashing Into Chinese Lantern Egg begins to shift, just a little bit, faint cracks gleaming on its surface.

"You heard him! Line up!" Hands are clapped together as Tye makes her way over to the assembling candidates. "Wow, this is easy. And to think I thought managing all these candidates would be hard." Yelling is all there is to it. "Good job, the lot of you. Your all more quick witted then I gave you credit for." The bluerider winks and then stands up straight, eyes going from Sii'kyn to the candidates and back again.

Monty yelps at Pycia. "HEY! Girl, careful with those *nails* of yours." He tries to unwrap the poor girl from his body. "I think…" He frowns at her, then gives up. "Alright alright, You should be fine. You gonna cling to me the entire time?" He raises an eyebrow at the controversial girl. Sometimes she was just too much.

Llewellyn agreeably takes Amehgani's hand, whether out of compassion for the girl's nerves or because she's a reasonably attractive blue-eyed blonde, we'll never know, but he takes her hand.

Sii'kyn lifts his eyebrows and assesses the lines. Solid uniformity of white robes, white faces, and fear and optimism combined. "They'll do," he announces at Tye. "Lessgo." So, that's what they do.

Hatching Sands> Sii'kyn steps from shadows to sand, joining the eggs.
Hatching Sands> Tye steps from shadows to sand, joining the eggs.

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.
Gold Nissionath, gold Cadgwith, bronze Aboleoth, and brown Sidramuntalath are here.
You see Mound of Eggs here.
Pyrene, B'ane, Nuff, Ciera, Lylia, Sii'kyn, and Tye are here.

Candidate Barracks> Ulimi is pale, so pale. She reaches out for Lucan's hand, not even knowing really what she's doing. It's not quite Ulimi up there at the moment, it's just her shell that's doing all these actions. Swaying a bit, she only stops shaking when her muscles go rigid, tense. And then they're off.

Two by two, the Candidates file in. Some nervous, some calm, some pale, some… well, not pale. But gather they do in front of the four dragons and four riders, forming a semi-circle of white. Then all at once, there's a coughed signal from Monty, and the Candidates bow in rough unison.

Firefly Crashing Into Chinese Lantern Egg shivers, just slightly, before falling over on its side. Bang! …Did it scare you?

Monty finishes his bow, clearing his through after his deliberate cough. He gives Pycia a little shake, as her fingernails are still digging into his arm and hand. "Gah… girl, loosen up will ya." He then stares at the eggs, he hadn't realized they were rocking yet, either. But why wouldn't they be, after all.

Sii'kyn hops up onto Ram's foreleg, standing on it instead of the Sands themselves. Ram's next to Cadge, so Ike beams over at everyone. "Aw, Py, look how -cute- they are," he grins, before saluting the candidates en-masse. Good luck, good luck. Ram growls at the bunch of them. Only, uh, two are good enough to be here, really. In his opinion.

Pyrene nods in benign approval to the candidates. "Always nice to see they've rehearsed," she notes to Nuff and whoever else is near. She gestures to Ike to take his place next to her. United front and all that. "Does Ulimi look like she's going to faint? I've got a mark on her to faint, and…, Adrin to throw up, I think it was."

Zarelyn moves quietly out onto the sands, joining one end of the line of white and clasping her hands behind her back. Her gaze flickers to the eggs and then down to her feet, a safer view.

Lucan makes his way across the Sands with his small gang of friends. Caeran, Donis and Ulimi are then given a nervous glance as he blinks at an egg that moved near him. "It /moved/!" he says, pointing at it.

Alasse looks around the hatching cavern, swallowing hard. Was it this big when they came for egg touchings? Were the dragons this big? To distract herself, she tries to look up in the galleries on on the dragon ledges. Thinking she sees her brother, she gives a small wave, spinning around as she hears the eggs beginning to rock. N'ano forgotten, she gazes over the clutches, unable now to hide her shaking.

Kaltia looks all around her after her bow and just smiles happily to herself. This is finally it after all. She looks at the other candidates and again wishes everyone luck quietly. She looks at the eggs and just holds her breath. Beautiful.. even more so now than before.

Sleeping with the Fishes Egg jumps suddenly, then settles back to to sand, quivering.

Llewellyn swallows hard as he feels the heat hit him. This is it. This is real. And suddenly he's not quite so sure he wants to be here. Maybe Amehgani will make a useful shield…

Adrin is not going to throw up, thank you very much. He's quite calm and cool and collected. Or so he'd apparently like everyone to think, by the carefully arranged 'calm' expression on his face. Don't mind the anxiously wide and darting eyes. Really. Don't.

Lauria looks completely petrified. And is staring at one egg in particular, though others are moving. "I hope we don't all die, I hope we don't all die, I hope we don't all die…" She mutters to herself, the hand holding Celeste's squeezing tightly.

"This is it, this is it…" Donis minces across the Sands in his bare feet, joining the gaggle of white-robes. "They do move," he replies to Lucan with a certain amount of weyrbred insouciance… then gasps as he spots another egg that indeed moves, a look of wonder and panic appearing on his face.

Glory of the Sun Egg gleams, just giving a little twitch before once more falling into a burning stillness.

Kodisan shifts a little closer to Auryn, giving her a nervous grin. "Ready?" he asks quietly, nodding over to Pycia as well. That's about as far as his attention span can reach in the current conditions.

Caeran shivers, despite the fact that it's extremely hot out here. This is it. it's time. The eggs are MOVING. He Clenches his fists. This time he's not expecting anything. He's just going to let it be, and if he goes home…Then he does. But it's still so exciting. "I wonder what color that one'll be," he muses.

Shot Up Pink Flamingos And Burning Trailers Egg wriggles, it does. Its an egg. So perhaps it is not the prettiest of eggs. But it is an egg, and so, what with all the Thrumming going on, it work at hatching? See the minute little teeny weeny cracks?

Kibai moves along with the herd. Move along, candidates. Move along. He shoots a glance back over his shoulder and towards the way they came, as if hoping to catch sight of someone, and then it is back to the matter at hand. Well, not literally, that is. Of course, he really should pay attention to where he is going, for the boy nearly blunders right into Lauria's back. "Sorry," he murmurs in apology, and then looks over her shoulder to the eggs.

Amehgani shivers, but otherwise seems quite calm now that they're here. "I don't think it's going to happen this time," she says almost conversationally to those around her. "Not for me anyway. After all, what can I do? I doubt those dragonets will be celebrating when they see /me/."

Spirit of Courage Egg gives the tiniest little shake. It's yet to consider if it has enough guts to move on from a wriggle.

Celeste clings to Lauria's hand on one side, and Auryn's on the other as she walks out, staring up at the galleries with plain fear. "Stop it," she half-hisses at Lauria. "That's not helping." She shifts from foot to foot - both nerves and heat - and turns to look toward the exit. "Well, that was nice, can I go now?"

Zarelyn looks up again as voices jerk her attention to where it should be, unfortunately she's neither close enough or quick enough to see any of the egg movements and instead settles to rocking abck and forwards on her feet, muttering, "Hot. too hot."

Ulimi is nervous, so nervous. Paler than pale, she doesn't even know that she's bowed, she's so out of it. She grips Lucan's hand and can't help but look nervously about her, casting unreal-seeming half-smiles to Donis and Caeran, giving Lucan an extra squeeze to his hand. "It… it did move…" she says quietly, only loud enough for her small group to hear. But does she actually know she said anything, nope. She's now too busy focusing on all the eggs to realize she even has a body. (Which would explain why she's clutching onto Lucan's hand so hard.)

Firefly Crashing Into Chinese Lantern Egg gives a final little shake, the cracks darkening suddenly. Whatever hideous monster emerges… Oh, the world shall be terrified! They should cower!

Firefly Crashing Into Chinese Lantern Egg is ageless. But even eternity is not forever. Wait, eternity /is/ forever, but the shell of this egg and its time here on the Sands has come to an end. Without much ado at all, really, the swirls of white and blue melt away like bubblebars in bathwater. What is left is a newly unwrapped and freshly minted dragonet.

My Little Paradise Pony Green Dragonet
Toy-sized, she is, this petite dragon, with a creamy-pale hide of the paradise greens: the softest shades of palm-fronds and jungle tickle her lower extremities, greening her chin, neck, and belly with a light wash of color. The rest of her small, pony-sized frame fades almost to white, a maiden's hue matched by the light wash of pink across the tops of her claws. Only her wings are bright and bold, their sails aglow with brilliant neon oranges and golds that match the fiesty orange crescent moon marking her left flank. Delight dances in her green-limned eyes, a storyteller's rapture for a tale as yet untold.

Auryn grins brightly at Kodisan. "Yes! Just a matter of time now," she announces, glancing around the eggs with great confidence. Pycia clings on to Monty, giggling girlishly. "Tee hee. Sorry. I'm just really nervous. I've never /been to/ a hatching before," she half-whispers, her voice rising excitedly.

Flourish tries not to bump into any of his fellow candidates as he shuffles behind them after the bow. "Do we just… stand here?" he asks in a quavering voice before jumping suddenly, the movement of an egg reaching his peripheral vision.

Alasse can sympathize with Lauria's wish not to die. Nevertheless, she looks like she expects it, rooted to the ground in the back of the group of candidates. Frightening as the eggs were before, when they move, they're a lot scarier. All she can hope for is to stay toward the back and hope she escapes notice. She peeps between heads long enough to see the new dragonet before ducking back with a small whimper.

Monty gives his arm another shake, Pycia having made him forget about his poor burning feet. He then blinks at his favorite egg. Erm. No, Monty's favorite egg isn't hot pink, right? But it is. He then blinks at the newly hatched green, all thoughts of trying to find Fawn or wave to Solaria in the stands forgotten.

Pyrene looks a touch disappointed as one of Nissi's is the first to crack shell. "A cute little thing," she notes graciously, before glaring hard at the nearest egg, which happens to be Bob. Crack, durn you.

Lucan looks up at the people watching and blinks, wiping the sweat from his brow right afterwards. "Wow.. it's hot down here." he mumbles. Pause. Another egg near him moved. "/That/ one moved too.." Gasp! Please excuse his babbling.

Forged from Hate Egg shivers too, perhaps in reaction to the first egg hatching. Its shell crinkles just a little bit.

Kodisan laughs softly at Auryn and nods once… until a green catches his eye. "Here we go," he informs the two girls next to him.

My Little Paradise Pony Green Dragonet prances free. Terror! Fear! Oh wait, she's not scary, is she? With a little shake of the tail and a toss of the head, she scampers forth from her shell. Playtime! Isn't it the sunniest, sweetest, most happy-dappled day, like, /ever/? With a swish-swish of the tail she prances along the sands, wide eyes staring up at the candidates. Ooooh.

Sleeping with the Fishes Egg spasms, the small network of cracks, giving way and condemning its occupant to the oblivion of Davy Jones' locker. The tip of a wing appears, bony and eerily skeletal, and for a moment a shift of the light gives the impression of gaunt death. A sudden, violent shatter sends the rest of the egg flying in dangerous, shrapnel shards, and left adrift and marooned in the middle of the Sands, a blue comes to his feet in an instant, and begins to sashay forward.

Shiver Me Timbers Blue Dragonet
Cool, he is, like moonlight on silver, with pale and fickle light gleaming along the blades of his spine and up the swift-drawn scimitars of his flashing wings. Shadows brand his belly and tail, burnt smoke and gunpowder that likewise boot his legs to black and darken his feet and claws. In contrast, the rolling, swooping, slooping Caribbean blues of his hide are seabright and brilliant; cerulean blazes across his muzzle, chest, and smooth sleek haunches where a dappling of cannon shot in sterling and brighter galleon's gold score his wave-tumbled hues. A swashbuckler, a rogue, a pirate king: nothing daunts the cheerful swagger of his step and flight, nor the wicked confidence awhirl in this scallywag's faceted gaze.

Amehgani ohs, in startled admiration. "Look, Llew, a hatchinig dragonet!" she gasps, squeezing the boy's hand. "And she sure is heavy," she looks over the ruins of the egg. "And another one!"

Donis's mouth gapes slightly open. "Pretty green…." he manages to stammer out, watching the little dragonet dance across the Sands. "Ooooh, blue…" is his next breath.

Kaltia glances over her shoulder at the stands for a long moment before turning back to look at the eggs, eyes widening at the emergence of the green. Yes, she's been here before. But yes, she's still nervous. Glancing from side to side, she slips next to a fellow candidate, shifting from foot to foot. "Look at 'em all…"

Lauria squeals as she's rammed into - fearing the worst - but relaxes as it's Kibai behind her. "Oh. Oh, it's you - you - where's Kaesa?" She turns back towards Celeste, and laughs lightly. "It's the one. The one that's going to explode. I'm afraid it's going to explode."

Caeran tries to calm the others, though his own heart is fluttering. "Don't worry. You're supposed to enjoy this. After all, it's a once-in-a-lifetime thing. No matter what happens, you'll always remember it as an amazing event." He's making himself worse. Shards. He idly toes the sand, hoping this all will just go away.

Zarelyn looks between blue and green, comments once more havign caused her to notice them. "Blue. Green." Her voice is low almost as whisper as she keeps note.

Alasse can only think of escape because My Little Pony greens are scary enough to her. Still, family honor and all keeps her from moving more than a few steps back, and she refrains from running when a second dragon hatches. "Faranth, oh shards!" she mutters to herself, looking up in blind panic.

A Flicker in the Dark Egg gives a violent jerk, hopping into the air and landing back down with as much ease and grace as an egg can muster. With another few shakes, it becomes motionless once more.

And blue! Monty's officially creeped out by now. He going to go crawl into a corner. Except no… He's got a Pycia clingin' to his arm. He growled at her, hoping she'd move… or speak. Or something!

Celeste is apparently only half-listening to Lauria. "What? Huh? What's exploding?" She's distracted by staring with awe at the new hatched dragonets. "Look," she breathes at Lauria. "They're… well, gooey," she wrinkles her nose. "But /kinda/ cute."

Sii'kyn just blinks innocently. He's not aware of scary goldriders who mix up messages; awh nawp. "I've got two on Lucan and one on Zarelyn, thanks to Ram, and - I think I had one random event bet, but I can't remember what it was." He stares at the green. "That's one scary green," he announces. "Ram, don't even think about it. I don't care how much she looks like Pixie." Grr.

Auryn sniffs critically. "A green. That's a bad sign for the clutch," she mumbles to Celeste, quirking an eyebrow. "Hrm. And a blue. Should've been a bronze from that egg." Next to Kodisan, Pycia squeals againj, this time loud enough for a few other people to turn heads. "Ohh! A /green/! Oh, she's so /pretty/, right, Monty?" Say yes, say yes.

Shiver Me Timbers Blue Dragonet sweeps to his feet and swaggers forward, his sashaying, hip-swinging walk making him look even more awkward than the normal clumsy dragonet. A deep breath is drawn in and whuffed out, and then attention is turned to the white-robed things. There have got to be some in there who're crazier than he is.

"Sleeping," Kibai murmurs in response. "Somehow, I'm not surprised that Kaesa would be sleeping through this." Actually, he really isn't. But, for now, he will simply stand behind Lauria. You know, as some sort of shield to protect him from all of that flying good and… well, the dragonets as well. He squints after the green, and then the blue. Scary.

Llewellyn stares twitchily around. Dragons. All baying for his blood, he just knows it. He idly wonders how long this is going to last… He can probably duck and dodge for an hour, but he never really struggled to keep himself in shape. What a time for all that skipped manual labour to come back to haunt him!

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

Lucan winces as Ulimi squeezes his hand, but, lets her do it any way. Girl's gotta let out the nervous feeling some how, eh? "A blue.. a green.." he says, eyeing the dragonets and keeping a close watch on them. "Easy, Uli."

Kaltia makes a face as she just blinks at Pycia, sliding in the opposite direction as she does so, sidestepping a few of her fellow candidates. "Right…" Glancing from one side to the other, she keeps an eye on the wandering dragonets.

Pyrene sniffs as the first egg from Cadgwith's clutch hatches blue. Typical, that. "Somebody pass me a drink?" she asks, resigned.

Lauria is still staring fixedly at one of the eggs, though does catch some of the hatching hatchlings. "No. It's that one. Remember? The one that explodes when you touch it? I hope it isn't moving - " She turns back around towards Kibai, and chuckles. And then goes to grab Kibi's hand. He's not going anywhere. "Stop hiding."

Out of the Ashes Egg shimmies. Shimmyshimmy. Whirlwhirlwhirl. Then, it quiets once again, to contemplate what fun -that- was.

Adrin continues to try and look cool and collected. But it's hard, when one is jumping around like an idiot as a result of wearing no sandals.

Alasse sidles behind Monty, twitching a bit. Monty's big, he can hide her, right? Well, that's the hope. And if a dragon comes toward him she can always, well, run. Still, its as good a spot as any for the moment, cause she can't see the dragons, and hopefully they can't see her. That's how she'll make it through the Hatching.

Zarelyn rocks - forwards and back, forwards and back - trying her best to not look too much like she has any interest in the hatchlings at all. "Waiting, waiting." She's almost chanting a mantra, "Over soon. No more waiting."

Kodisan nods dumbly as his eyes follow the newly hatched dragonets. "It's not always unlucky," he says, contradicting Auryn in a distracted voice. "Not always, I mean. And… she's so /pretty/," he adds, echoing Pycia.

Monty gives Pycia an exasperated look. "Um.. yes… pretty." Okay, now he knows why no one talks to her much. She's… annoying! He glances over at Lauria to see how she's doin'. Apparently fine. Good good. He peers down at Alasse over his shoulder, "You okay, girl? You lookin' a bit peaked…"

Ulimi stares down the dragonets that have hatched, especially the green. She's harmless-looking enough. Dancing - more like skittering - on the sands, Ulimi's jaw clenches, and she just watches, incapable of speech. Hop, shuffle, gulp, shuffle. Squeeze. More squeezing. Is that dragonet coming near them? Another squeeze. Maybe Lucan's words help, though, because she eases up on his hand a smidgin.

Celeste has apparently decided to ignore discussion of exploding eggs. "Right," she agrees absently, instead staring with her mouth slightly open at the hatchlings. "If they come this way, Lauria, I'm running." She's heard about those maulings. Celeste refuses to be a statistic.

Caeran's eyes flit from dragonet to dragonet. Okay, so he wasn't going to look. He can't help himself. "Explodes when you touch it…" Explosions. Now there's something else to think about. Like all those explosions Llew caused over the course of time. The living cavern sill feels a little sticky. "Maybe somebody should cause an explosion now," he says, wondering what havoc that would wreak.

My Little Paradise Pony Green Dragonet is just /so/ pretty, isn't she? The tail flips again, and she shakes her rump, with its odd patterns upon it. And pranceprance she goes, managing a decent stride as she trots across the sands. Sniffing here, sniffing there… That's a /boy/, ew. She's for little girls only. And maybe a big buff handsome Clydesdale o' Love. Those wide rainbow eyes scan the group. Ooh, maybe that one… She'd trade her gold dragon for a cute little green, right? Nah. Better not. But something catches her eye, and the little green nearly falls over. Ooh!

Pyrene flicks a look over the candidates, trying to locate Pycia and Donis. "Those two had better not be standing near our clutch," she murmurs to Ike. "I made it quite clear that they were candidates for Nissionath and Aboleoth only."

Flourish actually shivers a little as the dragonets begin to make their appearance. He can't possibly be cold. Maybe he's trying to keep his last meal down. It's hard to tell. The young man jumps a little once more, then scurries over to Reuben's side. There we go, he looks strong… er. Well, he's someone to hide behind should the dragonets get hungry too early. :shakes his head at Caeran. "We've got enough explosions, surely, with all those eggs hatching…. oh, what's that green up to?" He prances himself from foot to foot as the green wobbles. "Where's she going, where's she going?"

Donis shakes his head at Caeran. "We've got enough explosions, surely, with all those eggs hatching…. oh, what's that green up to?" He prances himself from foot to foot as the green wobbles. "Where's she going, where's she going?"

Kibai squints and is immediately protesting, "I'm not hiding." No, he is just standing behind Lauria, or something like that. Pathetic, really. His hand might be taken, but there is still some method as he works to keep Lauria between him and any immediate threats. He glances over to Celeste, quickly sizing her up. If she runs, he runs too, and he is probably faster which means… she'll be the first one hit. Yeah, it cold work. Disinterested features remain though, "This isn't so bad."

Oh hi, Monty. Alasse gives the other candidate a nervous grin. Or a panicked one, take your pick. She doesn't attempt to offer any explanation, as her mouth has apparently stopped working. Still, her hiding place seems to be a good one, an concentrating on a reply to Monty means that she's not worrying overly about the dragonets.

Auryn gives Kodisan a lopsided smile. "Naw, not bad. Just, bronze would've been better," she argues. crossing her arms over her chest to distract her from the now-dominating heat from beneath her feet. "Ooh, pretty," Pycia echoes, sighing deeply as her glance follows the little green on the sands. "Aww… you think she's coming this way, Monty?! Do you? Huh?"

Sii'kyn quietly shifts a look over at Py, and nods slightly; he's bemused. "I'll keep an eye out for them," he states, shifting to sit on Ram's paw - especially when Ram decides to move. Lurch. "Ram, that wasn't funny," he growls upwards, but dutifully keeps his gaze out on Pycia and Donis.

B'ane scratches his bicep, the new leathers mostly stiff and confining. "I've got a bottle, just a sec.." Pyrene's request will be honored, but give him time. "Let me see, I've got Tillek, Hold ale, crude beer, some clear stuff that packs a major punch, fizzy water, liquor and.." a particular bottle is held up to the light, "Harry's fermented redfruit juice." Yes, B'ane is a wine cabinet and rider in one!

Shiver Me Timbers Blue Dragonet swivels his head at the sound of havoc in the making. He likes the sound of that. Dodging around some of the less desireable candidates, he ducks and weaves through the crowd until he comes to Caeran's feet. He sniffs deeply, then exhales with a snort, turning and starting to sashay the other way. Maybe not.

Lauria frowns, immediately. "If you run, I run." All three will run. "I'm sort of attached to you, Celeste, and I'm not letting go. Not for anything. Unless the egg explodes, and then I'm only letting go if your arm is not longer attached to you…" She takes a deep breath, and her shaking diaphram is heard loud and clear.

Reuben straightens a bit, as the other Candidate comes closer. He manages a wather weak and watery sort of grin. "Amazing, aren't they? Just look at them Flourish." And, looking closer at the other Candidate, "You'er not scard are you?"

Lucan grins at Ulimi and watches the green dragonet close by. "She's a pretty one, eh?" he says, nodding his head towards her. "That blue's around here somewhere.." Hrm. Now where did he go? "Caeran!" he belts after the blue sniffs his feet.

Amehgani glances worriedly at Llewellyn, who is obviously nervous. Sending a quick glance to the ledges, she points out a bronzerider to her fellow candidate. "That's my Searchrider, T'jay. I don't why he picked me though. Said he thought I'd make a good rider… And I'd like to ride, but I'm not so sure about /flying/." Babble babble. Maybe it'll calm Llew's nerves, but she's not paying attention to the Sands.

Monty smiled back at Alasse, a deep reasurring grin. "Hey hey, don't worry. I'll make sure you get picked up if any scary dragonet comes right your way, alright girl?" He chuckled, glad to find something amusing to laugh about when he was trying to hide his nervousness. He blinked at Pycia, giving his arm a little shake, "Maybe Pycia, maybe it is." He gave her a smile, anything to keep her busy, eh?

Spirit of Courage Egg shudders again. Shudder; maybe it will, maybe it won't. It has to store up courage, first. Yes, it does.

Donis takes a nervy jump back as the blue gets /really/ close. "Caeran?" he murmurs hopefully, edging towards the relative safety of Lucan and Ulimi. Just in case.

Flourish blushes as Reuben asks whether he's scared or not. "Of course not," he lies, though his eyes grow wider when the blue stops in front of Caeran. "They… they eat /after/ they impress, right?" he asks Reuben, or anyone else near by. Perhaps the lad isn't too keen to watch, just in case.

Flame-forged Steel Sword Egg shifts too, just a little bit.

Ulimi shivvers. The blue was so close. At Cae's feet. Anyone playing 'light as a feather, stiff as a board' would have no problems lifting Ulimi right now, as she's stiffer than Skybroom. Gulp. "He was just right there… ss…so close…" she whispers.

Celeste wrinkles her nose again. "Ew. If my arm comes unattached from me, I'm /definitely/ running." She gestures toward the green with her Lauria clinging hand. "Does that one look kinda…. scary?" She narrows her eyes at it suspisciously.

Glory of the Sun Egg gives a little twitch, once more finding activity. Gleamgleamgleam. And a tiny crack appears, before the egg once more stops. Made ya look.

Reuben manages a short laugh. "Aye Floruish. After they impress, or so we're told. Though do remember to get out of the way if one heads at you really fast? I hear they sometimes run people down in their eagerness to get at someone else." Reuben is so helpful.

Zarelyn lifts a foot and uses it to scratch an itch on the back of her leg. Unfortunately all that does is sends a shower of hot sand down her bare skin and she lets out a hastily stifled yelp.

Kodisan is gradually losing his nervous edge as the dragonets stumble about. "They /are/ kind of cute. You know, in a… a little sort of way." That's eloquent.

Lucan stares as the blue passes by his small group and just blinks. His heart is /racing/ right now. "Wow, that dragonet was.. close." Too close for comfort is what he's thinkin'. Ee. Ulimi's hand is then given a gentle squeeze. "Breathe, girl.."

Caeran is almost unaware of the dragon heading toward him, until he feels a strange sensation on his feet,. He gulps. The dragon just sniffed him. "This is neat," he comments, laughing. Must not be mine, he comments as the blue begins to stagger away. It's a shame. That was a pretty one. ** maybe missed a couple of poses here **

Lauria snorts, immediately. "You're not helping, either! They're supposed to look -cute-. It's -cute-. It isn't scary. Not scary at all - did the exploding egg move, yet?" She pulls her hands to her sides, probably pulling both pairs of other-people's arms closer to her. "Still jittery, and I've done this before."

My Little Paradise Pony Green Dragonet wants a good rider, and taking off at a gallop, the tiny green dashes over to Amehgani, crashing at her feet. The dragon tumbles over herself, but her wide, adoring eyes never leave her chosen. A good rider! That's what she wants. And her muzzle nosing against the candidate, she lets out a little 'rawr'. She's claimed the best in all of Ponyv - er, the 'Reaches! Ha!

Kaltia glances over the eggs, swallowing as she realizes one of her favorites is twitching. But after only a short moment, she glances away, attention drawn by various shrieks and calls, the Starrie attemtping to identify the sources, grinning as she does so.

Auryn giggles at Kodisan. "They /are/. But they're much better once they grow. No brown out yet," she murmurs, mostly to herself, and glares hard at the unhatched eggs. Hatch! Even a brown hatched from Cadgwith will be better than nothing at all. Pycia sends Monty an adoring look - be careful, maybe she's tired of F'ish. "Aww, you're so nice, Monty. I'm sure you're going to Impress the first bronze hatching!"

Kodisan's head turns quickly to regard Lexia before he can refocus on the green over there… or the blue. His eyes move too quickly to figure out what exactly he's looking at. "Hey, first impression," he murmurs in reply. Was that comforting? "Do these usually last long?" he adds, swallowing. No clue who he's talking to at this point.

Llewellyn shakes his head nervously at Amehgani, refusing to take his eyes off the approaching dragonets. That green looks as if she could turn nasty in a pinch. "That's nice," he mutters to her. "I think we should take some cautious steps back and slightly to the side now. The green's coming our way. Llewellyn. Knight in shining armour to damsels in distress everywhere. That's not sweat on his brow, it's… the shine from his halo.

Shiver Me Timbers Blue Dragonet pauses again, once more craning his neck back over his shoulder. Awwww. He's pretty? Well, that changes everything. A glint enters his eye, and in a blink, he doubles around, looping behind Caeran and pulling the boy forward with his tail even as he looks up. See that cheerful gleam? Learn to fear that.

Into the Toilet Bowl Egg gives a slight sort of whoooshing kinda of noise as it flushes off pices of its shell.

Shiver Me Timbers Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Caeran, and steps forward.

My Little Paradise Pony Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Amehgani, and steps forward.

"Caeran, Caeran!" Donis bounces up and down on his toes in sheer delight. "He wanted you, he's perfect… oh!" There might be just a tinge of jealousy there.

Celtic Pool Egg shivers violently now, and earthquake in a shell, a life-shattering shift that has to end soon. Something has to give, here.

Ulimi blinks, and then opens her mouth. *Whoosh*, fresh air. Good for the brain. Glancing at Lucan nervously, she nods quickly five or six times, and then wipes her forhead. She's getting sweaty, now, too. "J…Just, help me move out of the way if one comes over here," she says to the guys standing about her. Her legs only move to ease the heat off her feet… and now to keep out of the blue's way when he doubles back on Caeran.

Monty had held his breath when the blue sniffed at Caeran, only letting it out when it moved away. He resists the urge to hug Alasse, but that would require him to turn away from the hatchlings, and he couldn't protect her and watch to see who impressed at the same time. He nods at Alasse, keeping an eye on her over his shoulder. She'd be perfectly fine, and if he could help it, she wouldn't faint on his watch. He frowned at Caeran then… woaahhh… was that…?

Mehgan stares stunned at the little green as she suddenly advances towards her. "Talking dragons!" she cries shakily. "Your name's Sundanceth? I'm Mehgan. But I said I could ride, not fly…." However, she tugs her arm free from Llewellyn regardless. She could always rise to the occasion.

Lucan blinks at the dragonets and then at that blue. "Caeran.." he says to himself as the blue looms around him. "Faranth, Uli, /look/!" And Impression takes place right before his eyes. His first onlook of it.

Sii'kyn points. "It impressed! It impressed!" 'It' being the green. "It reminds me more of Zhestie, not Pixie, Ram. See? Zhestie." He points. "Pretty- ah - er - wait. Did the blue just come back to Cae? Did Cae just Impress? Py? Ram? C'mon, I need some answe - " He's told, of course, 'Wait'. Sulkingly, he does. Sulk.

"Cute?" Kibai echoes Lauria's words. Okay, he sounds a little skeptical, but he'll just go with it for right now. "If you say so…" Oh look, there is Kaesa. Finally. Sleepy head decided to join the group. He reaches over to take her hand and yank her towards their little group. muttering admonishment in her ear, only to get punched in the shoulder for it. Ow. Sibling abuse.

Zarelyn glances along the line as names and caongratulations are called out. Addign her own to the mix though from where she stands she can't entirely see who impressed what.

Nuff just laughs delightedly at the first impressin. "Oh I do love this part."

Celtic Pool Egg seems to hum as it violently vibrates in place, shudders rippling down the egg's spine, forcing it to rock this way and that until the momentum causes it to fall to its side. With a final, wild jerk from the dragonet inside, the egg shatters into two distinct pieces. A green emerges between the discarded shell, head help up high and eyes staring in bewilderment and confusion. Indecisiveness only lasts for an instant; as the hatchling takes that ever-eventful first step forward, ready to begin this new adventure.

Drinking Tea with Alligators Green Dragonet
Milk touched by evergreen, jade melting with mint, absinthe softened by cream - these are but allusions for the soft purity of green that coasts along the contours of this dragon, and none give it the justice it deserves. The melted hues churn up and over her ample rump and sculpted haunches to slipslide down the concentrated coil of her tail. Those creamy colors continue over her stolid shoulders, struggle briskly along the spars of upswept wings and drip back down her sturdy limbs to coat forepaws a touch too petite for her robust conformation. Her hide is as smooth as the green tea which shades it, a herbalist's hue that climbs up artlessly nondescript neckridges and tumbles over her blunted 'knobs to envelop her classically wedged head.

Lexia nods as she stares in awe, teeth gnawing at her normally pouty bottom lip. "It's a big decision, Kodilove… plus - oh, Caeran!!!" Voice raises to a squeal, and she reaches over and hugs Kodisan rather tightly. This is the good stuff here. "Look! Looklooklook!"

Alasse looks relieved as several dragons Impress. So that's a few down, out of a lot. Her elation lasted only a second as she realizes that fact, and she closes her eyes. But it seems she's found her voice again, only it seems to have created a running "Shards, shards, oh shards," monologue.

Celeste examines the green carefully for a moment. "It is not cute. It's kinda gooey, is the best I can say for it. Maybe it'll be pretty when it gets a bath." She lets her arm be tugged toward Lauria. "Ooh, look, the scary one Impressed!" She glances toward the new Sundanceth. "I'm glad she's not mine," she confides to Lauria quietly. "She's scary."

Kaltia hears the mention of a name, glancing around without much look of where it came from, settling for a general congratulations, which are she starts to repeat for the blue's new lifemate before its cut short by the emergence of another green.

Caeran stumbles forward, unable to stop the momentum the tail caused him. For a brief moment, he is paralyzed. He can't hear the calls of his fellow candidates, or anything else for that matter. From his sprawled out position, he gazes up at his new lifemate. After what seems to him an eternity, he smiles. "Hello everybody!" the lad shouts. "I'm A'ran. And this is Taiith!" An arm shoots upward to present the blue to the masses.

Llewellyn is quite happy to let Mehgan get claimed by scary scary green. "Better you than me," he mutters underneath his breath. But now he's lost his dragon-shield and so quckly! He wanders across the Sands, seeking a dragon-free area with a friendly face.

Lucan watches as a green dragonet hatches near by this time. "They're hatching all around.." he says, blinking and staying in place this time. "Front, back, side.." Pause. "Everywhere!" Ulimi's hand is then squeezed once more. Nuff laughs again. "Well done A'ran! Well done Meg!"

Donis's shoulders sag in a heartfelt sigh. "Taiith. Well done, A'ran… and Ameghani too, I guess?" The lad looks across to the newly-Impressed green and shrugs his opinion with one shoulder (which makes the neck of his robe very skew-whiff). "Another green," he perks up, moving closer to Lucan and Ulimi.

Lauria stares wide-eyed as Caeran Impresses, pointing. "Look. Look. Caeran's - " And then she notices the other green that Impressed, and clings closer to Celeste. "I think I'll run if they even look at us."

Sii'kyn seems to catch up; Ram quits being evil to him and just passes on the names, and Ike perks up at the sight of the new, pale green. "/She's/ pretty," he states with a beam. "So pretty." Ahhh, sigh. Beam. "A'ran. Good boy, he'll be a good bluerider." Yup.

"A'ran?" Lylia's eyebrow raises, but the assistant weyrlingmaster manages to do a rather loud call. "A'ran! Amehgani! Over to the side of the sands with your dragons, /please/." By please, she means 'now'.

Zarelyn blinks. "Did someone say Caeran? What'd he get? I can't see." Finally she's interested.

Eyebrows climbing right up over Monty's head, "Alasse, girl, don't worry, don't worry." He's still got an arm surrendered to Pycia, but this time he does turn away from the hatchlings and tries to comfort her. "Alasse, girl, you'll be okay… don't worry!" He grinned, even though he was repeating himself. He then blinked up and over at now-A'ran. "Fantastic, A'ran! Faaantastic!" He cheered. Another bluerider to torture Pyrene. Mu ha ha!

Flame-forged Steel Sword Egg crackles. No, seriously, it does! One zigzag of that vintage silver is suddenly cracked open, as if a blade was unexpectedly broken. The egg crumples from that, the crack encompassing the shell until it neatly falls open, the zjing of steel giving way for stone, old life for new. In the crmpled folds of the shell she emmerges.

Statue in the Deeps Green Dragonet
Seawater submerges the chiselled form of this expertly carved dragon with every brilliant shade of ocean's depths: from the easy craftsmanship of her royal blue 'ridges, colors fade through sandy greygreen and sun-filted aqua to finally submerge her hide in a bright and clear seagreen. The clarity of hue spills across her back and rump, bubbles up the drifting arches of her wings, and sloshes across the fine stained glass of her sails. With dusky grey wingspars, murky, silted talons, kelp-entangled paws, and craggy forepaws and legs, her stony and statuesque physique anchors the liquid brilliance of her colors. Indeed, a jig and reel in rainbows and light dance across her chest and sides, and scramble up her neck; prism's fire overlays the glossy polish on her headknobs and brow and heightens the fitted stonework grey of her cobblestone muzzle. A statue, a prize, a treasure lost in the depths of the sea.

Drinking Tea with Alligators Green Dragonet is free! And.. this world is so strange. So very unlike the shell she just left. Still, that's no reason to sit here, waiting for the worst to come. The dragonet steps forward, a few dainty steps before she finds her stride, and a weighing gaze is cast toward the blurry sea of white. An overwhelming need to find the one person who fits - who can make this strange place make sense - floods her, more intense than even her hunger. There's someone out there. She simply has to have the courage to find them. Tail trailing whiplash behind her, she picks her way carefully over the sands.

Kibai blinks as suddenly one of their number is taken, actually two. Wow, this is getting to be a rather dire circumstance, isn't it? He gives Kaes something of a nudge though in response. "Behave." Yeah, right. Caeran is looked after though, eyes opening wide as marks as apparently that one has impressed, and to a blue no less. "Did… did he just impress one of the dragonets?" Duh.

Auryn pouts in disappointment as another green hatches. "Oh, a green!" the girl exclaims sourly, shuffling her feet about. "Ohh. A'ran. A blue," she mumbles, shrugging her shoulders. "Better him'n me." Pycia practically bounces, probably shaking Monty as she does. "Ohh! Impressions! Oh, how wonderful! I didn't think it was so beautiful!" she squeals, her face almost splitting under her beam of delight for her fellow candidates.

Celeste follows Lauria's point. "Oh! Caeran! Yaaaay!" She wasn't scared of that dragon, so she can cheer happily for him. "Yay!" She glances at Lauria. "We could run right now," she offers. "But maybe some others won't be so scary. If a scary one looks at us, we'll run." She pauses. "Where are we runnin? Just out?"

Lucan nods at Donis and Ulimi close by, watching the eggs closest to them. "It's so hot down here.." he says, wiping the sweat from his brow once again. "Can't hardly breathe." And it doesn't help much when his heart races either. Poor Luc. "Look! Another /green/.." Point.

Statue in the Deeps Green Dragonet follows the green siblings before her and slides out onto the Sands. Blockier than some, and sturdier than most, she soon settles herself on broad feet and starts forwards: muzzle first, head, shoulders, sides, tail. Oh good. Everything is in the correct order, with even he wings held out for balance. She seems to know just where she is going.

Pyrene watches unenthused as Caeran Impresses. "Well, he's been left standing once. He probably won't mind a blue," she supposes aloud. "And I can't tell which dragonet is from which clutch anymore… I do wish they wouldn't move about so." Cadgwith snorts over her serenely. She knows. But if Py can't figure it out, she's not telling.

Alasse tries to believe Monty, but it's so hard when there are rampaging baby dragons out on the Sands. If anyone wants to make a bet on the candidate most likely to faint, their money would be well wagered on her. The elation of most of the other candidates at the appearance of more dragonets is lost on her, as is the Impression of fellow candidates, though she'll probably remember to congratulate them later.

Kaltia widens her gaze as another green appears, starting to commention for a while before stopping and shaking her head. "Guess it works out that way…" Afterall, there are a lot of greens everywhere. And they've got to come from somewhere, do they not? Taking half a step back as they start to wander, she shifts from foot to foot.

Mehgan obediently heads over to the side of the Sands at Lylia's call. "Come on, Sundanceth," she tells her. "Let's go join our friends…" Sundanceth obliges, although it's slow progress as the awkward newborn trips and stumbles her way there.

Reuben has gone quiet again, for a moment, but is soon grinning and hoping with the rest. "Even better than F'ish, Pycia?" He can't help it, he has to ask. "Thought he dragonets are beautiful, yes."

Flourish watches as the two newest weyrlings file past him, which is why the next group of dragonets is a bit of a surprise. "They aren't wasting any time, are they?" he asks, a nervous note still shivering his voice as he steps to the other side of Reuben. Now he'll have even more choices for people to hide behind.

Ulimi blinks, "A'ran?" is all she manages to say, along with a puzzled, "Mehgan?" And then there are two more greens to look at, and she follows Lucan's pointed finger, mesmerized. Her mouth going dry, she smacks her lips, trying to work up some moisture, as she's already swallowed what was there. Maybe she could borrow some from her dripping temples… eeew.

Zarelyn strains for a little longer, trying to see, and then gives up, going back to her rocking and trying to keep ehr feet from overheating. Almost unconsciouly she wipes at the faint, dusty footprint on her backside.

Lauria thinks on Celeste's point, and motions with Kibai's-held-hand towards the exit of the sands. "We could just run that way. Except they could run after us, couldn't they?" She takes another deep and shivering breath. "Maybe we could climb into the stands, or something. Except they do that too, don't they…"

"So many greens… they're beautiful. Look at that one… oooh, and that one…" It's really quite overwhelming to little Lexia, as she moves over to another friend - "Pycia, ignore him. He's beeing a wherrybrain." Reuben is thrown a glare of doom. Doomdoomdoom. "There's no need for that. This is a happy event… just look where you are!"

Donis shifts from foot to foot, casting a sympathetic look around at those sandal-less people doing the same. "Nice greens…." he comments, eyeing up both as they break shell.

B'ane leans forward in his chair so he's really more like balancing on his feet than seated in the thing. "Look at that!" There's so many people to look at to share his pride with from the green hatching, Aboleoth and Vaeli are bound to be in there somewhere. Speaking of which, Aboleoth cants his head slightly and blasts a multi-ranged trumpet at his daughter. It's definitely a Kodak moment.

Caeran laughs as he pulls himself to his feet, hearing Lylia's call. "I suppose we'd better listen to her. Besides, didn't you say you were hungry?" So the pair begin their journey over the sea of sand and over to the side. He's clearly delighted, keeping his gaze focused on Taiith all the while.

Part 2

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