High Reaches' 18th PC Hatching (Part One)

Heat rises — ripples — wavers in a stifling curtain that envelops dragons and eggs while smothering riders and visitors. The black sands have been raked into ruts and dips, an alien, uneven surface for anyone trying to walk across them. Some say tension seers the heat: residue of hope, fear, relief, sadness, pain and ultimate joy staining high grey walls and lurking about the many viewing ledges that speckle the walls. Ancient murals of dragonlore fade across the walls near gallery and entrances.
Bronze Bandeleth is here.
<List of PC Eggs here.>

The Candidates - Iasri, Hari, Denalia, Feilan, Moldimehrallenkai, Vostarik, Jhairecki, Rhaenyra, Tilla, Dredos, Rozalija, Shivahn, Isabeau, Erarei, Darden, Inesa, plus probably 50 to 60 more NPCs.


The 8 PC Eggs:

Curious Yellow Egg
This egg is largely a gentle, soothing yellow color. The pastels are calm and orderly. On one side, however, there is a vaguely star shaped brown splotch. Little tendrils of that brown extend from four of the five star points, little curls of chaos interrupting the otherwise creamy surface.
Brawn Meets Brains Egg
There is might in the sun-kissed bronzes that sweep over dawning line of this large egg's shell, buff with the defined draw of sweat-worked fawn. Fleshy colors are tanned with exposure and honed upon a sharp line of steely iron until perfection is created. As the egg widens, an older power swirls to life with dramatic intent. Ebony thick, lush as velvet and dark as midnight, is cast with a choking miasma of sorcerous magenta and split with an even more flashy crash of electric, jagged silver.
To Be, or Not to Be? Egg
To die, to sleep; perchance to dream. Bone white drapes its shrouded tones over this bumpy egg, a sombre soliloquy dedicated to that unanswerable question. A solemn calcareous grimace is almost teasingly wrapped around the lower part of the shell, while above it, three smudges of grey - two round, one triangular - create the appearance of hollowed openings, with the overall effect being that of a gruesome smirk. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil?
Battle for the Lifestream Egg
An eternal struggle of sunbeam's glow against the darkened silver of moonbeams envelop this egg, a rapturous insanity about the miasma of bright colors. About the top, the yellow-blonde cast of the apex flickers with darker tones, an abstract reminder of discordant spikes splashed with two brilliant Mako-blue circlets. A gentle line of blue-green, seeming to flow lazily in a unsymmetrical pattern, butts up hard against a scythed line of darkest, deepest silver-grey. The silver blaze slashes diagonally downwards, remniscent of the sharpest edge the mind can summon in imagination- and below, the silver tones dapple as moonlight striking black leather, somehow sinister despite the beauty of the color itself.
Entropy Always Wins Egg
This egg is enormous, glowing with golden radiance. A taut spiral of alternating gold and white stripes circles its narrower tip, wire-thin pinstripes that devolve rapidly, the tension failing as they wend their way downward. Thickening stripes first begin to collide with one another at mid-egg, overlapping to generate new shades; strictly defined borders begin to blur. At its furthest remove, near the thickened bottom of the egg, the colors are no more than a brilliant mix like molten gold, speckled with starbursts of pure white.
Nightmares and Nightingales Egg
An explosion of white hot orange mushrooms across the dark expanse of this egg, inky smudges struggling to contain the ensuring chaos. Emerging from the turmoil is a pair of incandescent ovals, unseeing eyes focused on some distant goal. Shattered silver cogs tumble relentlessly against the apocalyptical kaleidoscope, bright and dark two sides bound together in the single illuminating shaft of red and white streamers that manage to pierce the rolling premonition of future destruction.
Angels and Demons Egg
The symmetry of this egg is almost perfect — as far as the shape goes, anyway. When it comes to the colour though, it's a completely different story. Two halves clash in the middle, feathered buttermilk colliding with leathery black. The former half is all light and air, patterned as if its embraced within a sun-flecked birds wing, while the latter appears hard, almost grainy, its soot-smeared black ticked with blood red.
Genius Has Side Effects Egg
A piercing blue, this egg cants to one side as if forever favoring the other. A dark peppering grizzles the base, while the apex is dusted with a shaggy, honeyed wheat. Slender, attractive, brilliant, this egg still manages somehow to annoy.

And the remaining 23 eggs:

Flowing River Egg
This egg is mainly a dark, muddy brown color with faint swirling discolorations that look rather unappealing. There is one ribbon of a brighter blue color, running down the length of the egg and trailing off little tendrils into the darker masses around it, almost as if drawing those colors off with it. Up by the origin of the blue stripe, there is a spot of almost phosphorescent yellow that might be a person, or a deformed star.
Godzilla Vs. Bambi Egg
This egg is undeniably ugly. There is an ugly scaly texture to it, and it is an ugly reptilian green. It also has odd little bumps, bumps that curve out in clawlike possessiveness over the bottom quarter of the egg. It is not a healthy-looking egg. It is, in fact, a vaguely mutant-looking egg. The bottom of the egg is an odd muddy reddish-brown with brighter flecks of vivid red — and, incongrously, shapes like little yellow cartoon flowers.
Millions Of Voices Silenced Egg
This egg is small and nearly perfectly spherical, unlike the usual oblong form. It seems divided into two odd hemispheres: a trick of genetics or nature. On one side, it is a dull gray, almost metallic, the surface pitted and scarred. The other side is a tranquil swirl of blues, greens, and white, organic and smooth. There is something restful about the hues, a sense of slumber or waiting. The halves are separated by a ring of fire: burning white with flickers of heated blue.
Peyton Can't Win At Foxboro Egg
Frozen grass and hard-packed dirt mix colors and textures on this egg's surface. Uneven, bumpy, brownish-green, it is rimed with a layer of frosted white: cold, cold, cold. Stripes of white ring it in thin, evenly-spaced intervals, tilted to the side and not directly centered off the ovoid axis. Near one rounded tip is a squared-off Y, the uprights rising to embrace the egg's peak. In their open arms, a tiny brown dot.
The Eternal Struggle Egg
Angelic clouds puff along the top of this egg, carelessly strewn against the robins-egg blue that emcompasses the northern hemisphere of this medium-sized egg. Each white puffy blur seems to be underlined by a beautiful, scapel-thin silver line; the whole top brings to mind a beautiful summer day, perfect in every way. However, at the equator of the ovoid form lies a grey band, a handspan wide, perfectly even… and below that, forge-fire red blares victorious against the backdrop of darkest night. Shadows lie in every smooth crook of the egg, darkness encroaching, the vivid colors a snarl of defiance against the idyllic scene above.
Will The Real Slim Shady Egg
This egg is one thing, and one thing only. White. Yes, you heard what you think you just heard. White. How white can be so unequivocally angry is another question altogether, but— yes. This egg is the color of the full moon, milk-white and oh-so-pale, among its other, larger, darker complected compadres… but it tries, dawg! It tries.
Bloodfeud at the Tug River Egg
The second cousin, the redheaded stepchild, this egg is a mismatch of brown and green pawpaw bushes and a river of grey-blue that slashes the nearly identical sides in a forking sphere of halves; it brings to mind deep forest, underbrush and a deep valley surrounded by high hills. And yet, the longer one looks, the more disturbing it appears— are those human figures, disguised in natural camouflage?
Roe v Wade Egg
This is an egg. In it is a little dragon life, precious and not to be destroyed. Or possibly just some yolk. What do /you/ think?
Right Click Button Egg
This egg is sleekly plain and simple - almost too simple. No hard edges or matte surfaces to be seen here: its shell is glossy sheen and graceful curves all around, glowing so brightly white it almost appears backlit. Reflected in that brilliant white are the faintest hints of color, pale enough that they're almost imaginary: pink, red, green, blue, and silver, as pixel-perfect shiny as the rest of the egg.
Duct Tape or Baling Wire Egg
Seeming almost shiny, dark gray bands swirl around the egg in a haphazard short of way. Instead of mummifying it, instead it seems to be covering up near black marks that seem reminiscent of cracks in the jagged way they form along the egg. However, seeming to try to wrap around the bands is a steel gray strand that seems almost like wire. There is a valiant effort to try and hold things together, but the taping seems to be overwhelming the wire, causing crease like parts and ripples where a lighter gray shows as it seems to fold over itself.
Bold and Beautiful Darkness Egg
The patterns on this egg circle around with no beginning or end. It continues in a never ending cycle, as old as time itself. Broad stripes of red fade to purple and orange, flecked with gold along the shell. The colors drift into darker hues and then the egg is as black as midnight, with a complete lack of color. Then as the shell continues around the colors come back into being, lighting up the egg before fading yet again. The cycle continues.
Mackems vs Toons egg
This egg's shape is almost perfectly round, a sphere with just the slightest hint of elongation at one end, and it's surprisingly bumpy, almost as if it's made from tessalated hexagonal shapes, stitched together. Across its shell are a series of stripes; white is the dominant colour, and on side side it seperates bars of midnight black, while on the other it comes between ribbons of carmine red. The stripes run vertically from the snub apex to the rounded base, both sides locked in a battle for supremacy.
Which Came First: Chicken or Egg
White. Pure, simple. While not a perfect shape, it seems reminescent of what an avian would lay, a simple ovoid devoid of marking and color, aside from a few bumps along the angled tip of one side of the egg. But, despite how well it may try to hide it, it's simple perfection is broken by a simple marking: at the thicker base, two three-pointed stars lay side by side, as if feet were poking through. But, let's just hide that, and stick it back in the sand. We all know the egg was there before /that/ was.
We've Got It Goin' On Egg
Sing it! This egg can barely contain, adequately, too many slick colors, gyrating textures, and irregularly-spaced dots that evoke faces in a crowd. Bright blues and golds spotlight an affair of ten shapes crowned in rich brown — though there's a few blond inclinations — and overall gaudy designations of color. It's a large egg, especially round at its equator, and dark by design. Sleek it could be called, the shell's surface as consistent as plastic with slightly reflective properties.
The Skye Boat Egg
The thick grey of roiling gunsmoke swirls over most of this egg, dark and mutinous. The abstract opacity tempts the eye to look for more, and there may in fact be shapes beneath: men wounded, dying, despairing; ominous dark weapons; the thick boggy grasses of too-open ground. The smoky veil dissipates in one patch near the base of the egg to reveal a patch of sea-green, cut across by the long dark shape of a boat.
The Renewable Airforce Egg
A greyblue haze surrounds this medium egg in relative obscurity, with random blobs dotting throughout the sides— emerald greens and deep sapphire blues, the dark skybroom browns and brassy bronze, shimmering golds. And from the apex, silver menace streams down, careless, uncalculating, and unwary; little puffs of blazing-red and ash-grey are here and there where the fields of multi-colored blobs and streamers of chrome meet. Another endless struggle composed on living shell— at least this one has the soothing qualities of aesthetic value, even if the true battlefield is obscured by the seeming grey fog.
Battle for Cybertron Egg
Metallic colors clash and vie for dominance over this larger-than-life egg. Gunmetal grey and blackened steel crush up against bright starfire red and deep, brilliant blue. Vague crests can be seen, one that same brilliant guardian blue, one of darkened iron and rusted menace. The collision of colors intermingles without regard, so that no one combination of colors and forms lasts too long— hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Even still, the struggle is apparent, even from afar: it truly is more than meets the eye.
White Ribbon of World Domination Egg
A single unsullied ribbon of snowy white divides the top and bottom, thinning and thickening as it winds its way across this globe. An untapped wealth of deep caramelized mahogany bubbles up beneath this snowy divider, its caffeinated richness seeming to collect and trap icy tendrils of the ribbon in a crackled grid. Upon the apex of this egg cyan and scarlet battle relentlessly, neither quite succeeding in gaining complete domination.
CAT-aclysmic Contest Egg
A little fuzzy, a little small, a little awkwardly placed, this egg could almostalmostbe considered cute. A chilling gloom, dark and ominous, envelops the base of this egg, seething forth with fell purr-pose to conquer, and rule, the whole. The pristine purr-fectionwhite unstained, unmarredthat caps the apex seems to catch the light of the caverns and infuse the shell with an otherworldly glow. Red sears the shadows, streaking from their depths, only to be matched, claw-for-claw, by the triumphant golden aura.
49,888 (And One Chicken) Egg
Pebbly pigskin-brown encases this little egg, more oval-shaped than round and slightly pointed at each end. A thick band, navy blue and silver, slashes almost halfway around the egg's crown, and another stripe of mingled burgundy and gold mirrors it across the egg's base; perpendicular between the two is a thin line of white crosshatching, almost as if the shell was stitched closed.
My Stapler In Jell-O Again Egg
Aggressive lemon-colored and whimsically blob-wobbly in shape, this egg looks anything but noble. Thrown in sharp relief is a darker oblong shape harmlessly suspended in the softer yellow. Barely noticeable beneath the yellow is a perfect white circle at the egg's base, while glow-golden shadows trace its crown, giving it the illusion of all but wiggling from its spot on the sands.
Balance to the Force Egg
This egg's surface is a swirling miasma, some interminable struggle of an inky, seductive darkness threaded against a light that is brighter white-gold than Rukbat itself. End to end, around and around, shadow and light chase themselves across the shell. Almost invisible against the dizzying chiaroscuro vastness, tiny blades of color blaze, luridly visible against dark and light alike.
Brown v The Board Of Education Egg
White and black will not be separated, no, not on /this/ egg. They appear in roughly equal proportions: no grey, no, but both extremes, swirled around each other so closely they sometimes seem to blur together. Once mixed, they will be impossible to separate, and here, it seems, they are well and truly combined. No further segregation of colors, just a beautiful melange of shades.

Bandeleth's thrumming is more felt than heard; from between his shoulders, the shaggy-haired, haggard-faced weyrleader lifts his head. Ah. So it is. As the eggs begin to show signs of activity —a wiggle there, a shudder here, he climbs down to stand between Bandeleth's forelegs. Impassive, he watches the candidates enter.

The slow flood of white on golden sands indicates the presence of Candidates. Nervous ancipation, abject worry, gleeful relief: all emotions show across a number of faces, and the tide continues to come in. Fifty strong, shuffled into an overarching line of stamping feet and sweating palms, they bow to Bandeleth in a quaking line, a few too soon, a few too late. Then the wave breaks, and they disperse into a large circle around the clutch of quaking eggs.

Rozalija comes in along the end of the candidate group even after they have started to move away into their circle around the eggs, having tripped a few times getting out there. She shuffles awkwardly out onto the sands as if unfamiliar with it— or terrified. Seeing the one guarding clutchparent there, Roz swivels her amber eyes that way and then looks down as she sinks into a deep bow that makes her teeter and totter this way and that. And then she quickly hesitantly moves away to join Iasri to cling to her hand, trying not to look out of place. Not that she can, in the sea of white that they all are.

Battle for the Lifestream Egg is the sneaky sort. It will not flounce around. That would give away its intention. There is no warning as the shell starts to crack down the middle. The split gets bigger, and bigger, flashes of color being seen from the egg breaking away. Was that blue? Maybe green? Perhaps brown? Without further ado, the dragonet breaks free! The shell parting in two and a green dragonet emerges. Proddy Alda Time has arrived.

Proddy Alda Time Green Dragonet
Sensual and slinky, this darkly emerald seductress shimmers in pure elegance; there is a hint of the exotic in the cast of draconic features, perfectly accenting the refinement of her bearing. Like a gown of finest satin, color drapes her lush figure: a fall of rich, jewel-toned green spills from perfectly proportioned headknobs, waterfalls down the long arch of her neck, and pools across the wide expanse of her wings. Over her haunches and down her legs, there is a hint of something darker: a whisper of mystery in black-touched teal, a flirtation with danger emphasized by the wicked curve of gleaming talons. She is not all perfection, but she doesn't need to be: even with a twice-kinked tail, she still possesses the power to move minds and leave a body stirred, or if not—decidedly shaken.

Rhaenyra strides out with Denalia, and blinks in sudden surprise. "Hey. Is that a dragonet?" Captain Obvious Rhaenyra at your service. "That was…. sudden." She stirs from foot to foot, at the sudden heat, and tries to stay Out Of The Way(tm).

Darden shuffles onto the Sands, looking white faced but with a set expression. He gives Tilla's hand a tight squeeze. Then…there's a dragon hatching. The lad bites back a yelp, "That was fast!" he whispers to no one in particular. He looks up and down the line and blinks tears from his eyes, wiping them quickly on his shoulder.

Vostarik's barely risen from his bow when the dragonets start bustin' out. Holy crap. "If you let me get mauled I swear to Faranth I will /kill you,/" he mutters under his breath to Feilan, wary. Or terrified. Take your pick.

Isabeau falls in near Tilla and Darden after the bows, though she keeps a sereptitious eye out for Dredos as well. Her attention is mostly on the green with enough of her mind on the eggs to track which ones are actively likely to hatch. She spares the least attention for her fellow candidates. She's unlikely to need to dodge them.

Denalia is barely even on the Sands, it seems, before there's a green. "Tye was right. They /were/ coming quick… We must be late," she mutters softly, looking from Rhaen to Tilla, who should be somewhere near. "Not exactly a super good sign, but… You never know. It's.. sorta pretty." Shrug. All newborn dragons are. It's like puppies.

Dredos is herded in along with the rest. "Hey, watch out of one of 'em starts charging, too," is offered to whoever will listen. "Those things can be dangerous." And he squares his shoulders and shifts to the balls of his feet. Just in case.

Feilan stops short as an egg rather abruptly..bursts. He even ducks somewhat, hardly expecting something so../quickly/. Though Rhaenyra gets stared at somewhat. "..What do you /think/ it is?" Honestly.. He shakes his head, tossing a quick grin at Vostarik, nodding. "Don't worry about it so much, man." Hey, he did promise to be a shield!

Iasri flinches at the sudden wave of heat that hits her face. She gives a deep intake of breath, startling only at the sudden burst of egg to announce the first hatchling. "Sweet Faranth." The girl coughs, pressing against Roza's side. Her hand is sweating. Have fun with all that sweat!

Proddy Alda Time Green Dragonet takes a quick glance around the sands, her eyes surveying everything and everyone is just that small look. Ah, it appears she has arrived on time. Good. Always good to go first. The green takes a dainty step forward, her demeanor quite casual, but her eyes are always watching. Waiting. Every candidate that moves gets sized up. And so she moves off in one direction, her steps careful and calculated. But she never stops looking fantastic.

K'ano stands off to the side, looking as elegant as ever… even with all the heat from the sands. The eruption of egg into green has him noding slightly.

Tilla drops Darden's hand as she reaches a stopping point in the circle around the eggs. And, wipes her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Finding this will not suffice, she uses the hem of her robe, being careful not to flash anyone. "Oh.." she inhales sharply. "Its a green. Its so pretty!" She stands there,nervously fiddling with her thumbs, watching the events unfold. Its so unreal, she thinks. Is she really here?

Jhairecki, somewhere toward the back of the line of candidates, is an uneasy shifter who crowds in a little too much on the people directly in front of him. "Hell," he begins, and stops, just eyeing that green. Time to scrunch in a little more, like that's going to be protection. Coward.

"Huh," T'ii says, watching the eggs. "Green first. That's usually—" he's turned to the side, already instinctively commenting to … someone who isn't there. Oh. Right. He doesn't finish his sentence, instead shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on the balls of his feet.

S'lo is practically clutching at K'ano's elbow. "It's hot. I forgot how hot it is out here. You want the first? Or me? I'll let you pick. Totally up to you." Dance dance dance. "Or we could tag team!"

Rhaenyra sides closely to Denalia, an eye on the darkling green. "She's pretty," she finally states. "In a drowned puppy-dog sort of way." She warily eyes the dragonet, before her gaze is drawn clear across the Sands, to where T'ii stands, alone. Awww. Poor T'ii.

Rozalija's hand is sweating, too! And her face, and her— well, everything, really. And she was nervous already. She squeezes Iasri's hand either way and tries to look as small as possible. "F-faranth," she squeaks out, staring at the first dragon already. "No… no no no. Iasri, it's starting, and I don't want it to." Funny enough that her stutter should leave right about then.

Shazi steps up from the shadows at T'ii's back to rest a hand on the man's shoulder, just a moment, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Darden shakes his head a few times, clearing his eyes. He can't be crying right now! He takes a deep breath and keeps his eyes on the eggs, and on that green. So much to watch all at once! "G-good luck," he whispers.

Vostarik isn't shaking in his shoes, mostly because he hasn't got shoes. Or sandals. Not that he notices right now. "Just remember. Kill you dead." Remember, Feilan! "That one looks like it could kill."

Erarei battles static electricity (and loses!) despite the valiant efforts of her hands. Recovered from the collective bow, she does not allow a frown to perpetuate on her face for long. "Are they really that /big?/" Standing on her toes and walking on them deliberately for a while. "That green is marks in my pocket. Well," correction, "half a one."

Tilla pats Darden's arm. "Don't cry, it'll be alright. Just remember if a dragonet comes running at you and doesn't l ook like its stopping then get out of the way. So we don't get injured. Healer Mykalie said so" She nods, clenching her hands together.

Tye is off to the side, a look of quiet happiness on her face as the first dragon hatches onto the sands. True, not a bronze, but more greens are always a good thing! The Weyrlingmaster gives a sharp nod at the assistant weyrlingmasters, making motions toward the dragonets. "Y'all know what to do."

Iasri shoots Roza a quick sideglance, never taking too long to rip her eyes away from the dragonet. "Shh Roza. Too late." She brings up her other hand up to wipe at her forehead. "It's sure got an attitude, don't it?" The girl quips loud enough for others to hear. "Look at it strut."

Isabeau looks to Tilla and chuckles. "Looks high maintenence…" She remarks ironicly, then looks down at Darden. "To you as well. Relax. This should be the easy part." Then her attention returns to the moving dragon.

Will the Real Slim Shady Egg shakes, quakes, and wobbles, then bursts open with an ear-splitting crack, sending a little bronze stumbling blindly across the sands. He straightens himself out, builds up steam, and swiftly Impresses to a hopeful, inspiring young man from Ista. "He says his name is Bidenth!" the shocked O'bama calls out to the waiting stands. A few grumbles on the other side of the stands pop up: "He's not from around here." "He's too young." "He can't possibly be ready for that responsibility." Shazi, from her place at T'ii's side nods and smiles tiredly at the new pair. "I knew that boy had potential."

Vostarik isn't so terrified that he can't snark at Iasri. "/Strut/?" he repeats, momentarily scornful. "It probably just hasn't got its legs sorted out yet." Now back to abject fear!

Dredos crosses his arms over his chest, despite the heat. "That's not that big," is mused with a look at that green. Head whips around and he barely catches the bronze's impression. "The whole group's in a hurry." Sidling toward Isabeau, Tilla, Darden, and that group there.

Darden shakes his head, "M'not crying. Well, not because of that. I just…this is the end of something. Always makes me sad." He cries at the end of Harper stories too. "Oh! Congratulations!" he whispers toward O'bama.

Denalia shrugs. "Weyrling dragons are always pretty. But, it isn't ugly, at least. Better than Frusha's hatchlings, for sure…" She's starting to become uneasy, though, hopping from foot to foot as she looks around the hot cavern. "There's my mom, up on the stands!" The bronze Impresses, and she *almost* grabs Rhaen's arm. "It never takes long. Just watch. One's gonna come up and nab you next!" Teaaasse.

Feilan sighs just a bit, tossing a look at Vostarik after a moment, although it's amused. "Do you /want/ me to hold your hand, man?" Because he /will/. Though he does take a look out towards the 'killer' green. "Oh come on. /Really/?" And then there's more popping and actual impressing! "Huh. Wouldn't have thought he'd make it."

Rhaenyra eyes over at Deni. "Shut up," she states, her tone even. "Palia? Where?" Her eyes automatically raise, and— spotting Palia— the Herder gives a broad smile and a wave. Hi adopted-mom! "Oh. Bronze. That was fast!" A paused moment. "Huh. Interesting. I never thought he had it in him… O'bama, I guess he is, now."

Tilla is dazzled by the bronze. "Not a bad looking bronze!" She nods, appreciatively. "Just enjoy the ride, we're here now and we earned it, no matter what happens." She returns her gaze back out on the sands, mildy regretting all the water she drank before coming out here. No potty breaks for a while yet, it seems.

Iasri glances towards Vos, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, strut. It's strutting. Maybe not as good as it should be, but it's shardin' struttin." And that's all Ias has to say about that.

R'gis moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.

Proddy Alda Time Green Dragonet just slowly makes her way. No running and flomping around undignified for this classy lass. Candidates are passed left and right, each being deemed unworthy of her sophistication. Head always remains high, tail slightly elevated. She stops a moment, giving one white-clad being a delicate sniff, and she's on the move once more. Something is tugging her the other direction, so the green ditches those around her, and to the other side of the sands she goes!

K'ano shrugs at S'lo or tries to shrug S'lo off either way. "Either way, you just go right ahead." he tosses his head in a classic hair flip and watches a few of the other moving eggs. "Wonder if it'll be a bronze next."

Vostarik does look a bit sour at O'bama's impression - "Oh, faranth, what if /he/ becomes Weyrleader someday—" - and turns that on Feilan. Eyeball. His hands clench, and then he crosses his arms, as if that'll save him from the guard. "Seriously. Dude. Kill you dead." Vos doesn't need a lot of reasons right now.

Rozalija shakes her head slowly towards Iasri. "I know, I know…" She sniffles some, even in the heat, and starts moving her feet around, out of nervousness and the heat and just having something to do. "And… and it's a she, not an it," she makes sure to add, just for the sake of the green hatchling. She takes one little step back, still holding onto Iasri's hand, but making sure her friend was just a little in front of her. Just in case.

T'ii drags one hand out of its pocket so he can scratch distractedly under his chin, the sound of fingers rasping against scruffy hair lost in the noise of the Hatching. "'Least the first Impression was bronze," he says to … Shazi.

Isabeau smiles at Darden. "You'll do just fine. Think of it as something beginning and go from there." She watches the furtive movements of the green and murmurs a congratulations to the bronze pair. Her heart felt ones will be saved for later… and those she knew better.

Shazi nods to T'ii, though the Hatching itself is taking most of her attention.

Denalia grins. "I knew she'd make it. Palia never misses a Hatching.. Though, I'm not surprised my brother isn't here." He never is, is he.

To Be or Not To Be? Egg trades contemplation for violent action and lurches erratically from the comfort of its home. Like a thing gone mad, it attacks the Sands, taking friend and foe alike with glancing blows. It is a struggle of life and death as the beast within fights for breath and body. Cracks begin to form, chinks in the armor to be exploited, until finally the egg fetches up against a wall and shatters with all the brilliance of a crystal chandelier. When the flutter of shell and sand is gone, the space is empty, the occupant passed unseen to hide, gaunt features peeking out from betwixt a parental curtain of bronze sails and blue hide to watch the drama on the Sands unfold.

Don Juan Triumphant Blue Dragonet
A spectre conjured from the inferno of man's darkest dreams, his is a figure of gaunt proportions, a skeletal blue animated with a gentleman's grace. The great billowing sweep of his wings enfolds his long, thin frame in a cloak of mystery, methylated flame lapping against midnight sails. Shadowy cobalt hide stretched taught over wiry musculature, the delineation of every angle, every curve, is outlined with a ghastly pallor, to belie the power coiled therein. Despite this frightening countenance, a bearing almost regal in its elegance lends a certain debonnaire charm, from the proud arch of his slender neck, to the perfect posture of lean shoulders and hindquarters, to the groomed curve of his whip-thin tail. His face, a porcelain mask of smooth planes and blunted angles, reveals nothing but the menace of his mesmerizing gaze.

"I'm thinking blue. It goes with green! Oh!" Yes, S'lo wasn't paying attention. He quickly moves after O'bama, directing the pair away from the hype.

Feilan snickers softly. "Just try to breathe, man." His head shakes then, wiping his hands briefly on his robe. Really, heat makes for sweaty hands. Or it might just be barely concealed nervousness.

Rhaenyra contemplates the green. "She -is- pretty. A prissy right bitch, but pretty," she decides, tone tossed over to Denalia. A smile finally touches her face, and she rocks back on her heels. Another glance to her standing-mate. "How about that blue? He's another dark one."

Tilla spots her ma in the stands and waaaaves! And then, back to the sands. She eyes the green hatchling curiously, and then is distracted by the blue. "Oh, there's a blue!" She points and then just stands there again, twiddling her fingers, intent on what's unfolding all around her.

"Bronze," says Jhairecki. His mouth tightens grimly. He's trying hard not to fidget, with visible effort; turning to the blue, the green, trying to keep an eye on everything going on. His shoulders hunch slightly, head half-down like that makes him less noticeable to the dragons prowling around now.

Denalia grins. "I knew she'd make it. Palia never misses a Hatching.. Though, I'm not surprised my brother isn't here." He never is, is he. "This is gonna be such a long hatching… Ah, a blue! Kinda.. Interesting looking." She gives Rhaenyra a shrug. "There's gotta be a gold in there somewhere, though.. They always wait so long to hatch, though."

Darden gulps nervously and shifts his weight, trying to keep everything in his line of sight at once. He's quiet for once, at a loss for words.

Iasri huffs, "Fine, /she/, she the green dragonet is strutting." Iasri corrects herself dryly, her eyes darting quickly to the explosion of that other egg. "Oh, shardit' a blue. Look!" She wavers, taking a few steps to one side. Coincidencely, towards Feil and Vos. Who knows where Iasri is drifting on the sands. She's too scared to do much else.

"I'm /breathing./" Vostarik is indeed. He's not doing a lot else, though, still white-faced as his arms clench more tightly across his chest. "Oh, a blue. Nice." A pause. "Kind of creepy." Iasri's approach is noted, but he's a little too tightly-wound right now to protest.

Dredos does a quick weight-shift as the heat of the sands really starts to set in through those sandals. "Weird face," is the greeting that blue will get from him.

Meanwhile, Roe v Wade Egg wobbles, quakes and shakes, then explodes with a burst of enthusiasm, dropping a pretty little green onto the sands. She poses, bugles triumphantly, then sets out across the sands. Members of the Weyr are surprised when an older fellow some would consider too old to Stand reaches out to the little green with tears in his eyes. "Palinth! My friends, she says her name is Palinth!" T'ii leans towards Shazi to mumble, "I told you Morocain — I guess he's M'cain, now, isn't he? I told you M'cain was a good fellow."

Proddy Alda Time Green Dragonet puuurrrs. Or at least, it's some form of a purr. Perhaps more of a rumble. At any rate, the green lady has zoned in on something… something just right. It calls to her and soon, she's floating on clouds, making her way towards a gaggle of lads. But she only has eyes for one of them. Ah yes, the good looking one near the middle. He is just right. Walking straight up to Feilan, the dragonet lifts a dainty paw. Perhaps a man such as he would care to kiss her hand?

R'gis slipped onto the Sands quietly, edging around to where the other Assistant Weyrlingmasters stand. Great, he's missed the first Impression! He nods a greeting to K'ano and S'lo.

Proddy Alda Time Green Dragonet turns her jewel faceted eyes toward Feilan, and steps forward.

Erarei's brown eyes don't stay lodge in one place for long, glance hovering at the speed of a hummingbird. Minding the placement of her feet, big sandals 'n all, Rei temporarily leeches onto the group of people including Darden, Tilla, Isabeau and Dredos. "Anybody you know over there?" She scours faces in the galleries, sensitive to the faces that shouldn't be there.

Rhaenyra glances over her shoulder, noting— Jhairecki with nobody. "JHAI," she calls, waving. Apparently he's forgiven for today. "Come -here-." A smirk to Denalia. Question is, is she really trying to include Jhairecki, or is she just trying to spite Deni? Then— "Wait. Wait. WAIT. FEILAN?" her voice rises through the muck. "FEILAN?" Squee!

"Oh /shit./" And Vostarik's body shield is gone, ten minutes into the Hatching. "Don't /do/ this to me, man—" But it's halfhearted, and he backs away from the new pair, bumping into Iasri as he does.

K'ano was totally looking at the other side of the sands when O'bama impressed! S'lo manages to get away with taking the first bronze pairing off, but that's alright K'ano is here to serve. He even manages to see the next impression "There! Look there, a green this time. Figured her for a picky gal."

Rozalija squeezes Iasri's hand again at her huffiness and giggles softly, though it's a bit forced. "It's… It's going so fast. Some have already Impressed!" Her amber eyes follow the green a moment before it snaps towards the blue with a squeak. "R-reminds me of Mother's dragon," she says in a soft voice, and sinks behind a moment away from the scary looking dark blue. She'll be paying attention towards the other eggs instead. At least they didn't have claws and teeth— yet.

Don Juan Triumphant Blue Dragonet peeks from between blue and brown, rocking from foot to foot like a youngster preparing to do mischief. Oljeitukhodath looks back, head canted to one side, to peer at the little blue. He rumbles and gives him a slight push towards the Sands. The little skeletal blue stumbles slightly, then grumbles in indignation. He straightens himself, then begins to study the candidates with a shrewd gaze.

Jhairecki sidles. Not becoming at all, but there's no other way to describe the way he slinks over toward Rhaenyra. "Gonna talk to me today?" he wonders idly, as though they were in the living caverns over dinner, and not life-or-death versus the dragons. Or whatever. He rubs a finger in his ear at all her squealing, though. "Hell, do you have to do that right in my ear? I see it already." And he gives Feilan a glance, eyes the green, and snorts. "Surprise."

Darden gasps, "Oh, Feilan!" He blows the new Weyrling a kiss, blushes, and beams like an idiot.

Tilla opens her mouth, gasps and shuts it again. "Feilan! Congrats!!" She smiles and waves, happy for her friend. "What a beauty.." she remarks to Darden and whoever else is listening.

Iasri hand comes up quickly, instinctively to place a palm on one of Vos's shoulders. "Steady." She hisses, darting her eyes towards Feilan with a small smile. "Feilan! Oh shards. Good job!" But she's too worried right now, one hand on Vos's shoulder, the other tightly held by Roza.

Denalia looks at Feilan's Impression with odd speculation. "How am I /not/ surprised," she grumbles irritated, crossing her arms. She even backs away from Rhaenyra a moment, noticing that Jhairecki is coming near. Ew. Get /him/ away! "I think they'll suit each other nicely." She rolls her eyes, looking away. Tye will be overjoyed with that pair, for sure. Grumble.

Feilan stares at the..foot. The /foot/. "What the..?" Waaait a second. There's a moment of complete stillness then, before his hand reaches out to briefly touch that lifted paw, and then his hands go right to the green's head. "Whoa..uh.. Well yeah. Guess we will, huh?" He clears his throat just a little bit then, and nods. "Her name's Utonalloth!" And yes, Vostarik's lost his body shield, unfortunately. These two have other places they need to go.

Rhaenyra grasps Jhairecki's hand— because she can, and Denalia would hit her for it— with both of hers, and does a rather unbecoming bounce. "FEILAN," she continues, with another bounce. "Did you see that? Did you see that?" Yes, apparently she's talking to Jhai today. A spirited look over to Denalia; "Oh, you're just jealous, Deni. He -impressed-! How can you not love that? Uta.. Uton… what did he say?"

S'lo starts to return back towards his posse when not one but two more dragons impress. "K'aaaaaano," he drawls out, pointing towards M'cain. Yeah, go get 'em tiger. R'gis is given a quick grin to. "Hey!" And then he's off towards Feilan, "Over here! This way, this way," he directs the new rider and lifemate.

Genius Has Side Effects Egg is just about ready to blow this popsicle stand.

K'ano steps forward now gesturing M'cain. "Look here, this way! We'll get that hungry fellow fed up right." see he can be nice, very very nice.

Vostarik surprisingly doesn't recoil from Iasri's hand on his shoulder. Temporary truce? Probably. "You aren't secretly harboring a desire to save me from a mauling, are you?" He's distracted enough, trying to hear the name of Feilan's green over the freakingoutness, that he doesn't sound /too/ sarcastic.

Dredos is spurred by Erarei's approach to glance up at the stands, squinting just a little. But all that yelling will turn anyone's attention elsewhere. "Utonalloth," is repeated. Maybe for Rhaenyra. Probably not.

Genius Has Side Effects Egg is marred only by a thin crack, but the occupant seems impatient. The egg rocks fiercely, and the shell splits, bulging out in the general shape and size of a dragonet's skull. Another hard rock comes and a curved crack forms, etching a question mark scar down the surface of the shell. One more heaving push is all it takes: the questions fall away and the answer is revealed in an ice-blue hide.

Cosmic Kid in Full Costume Blue Dragonet
This icy-pale blue is distinctively disproportionate: over-long limbs are all knobby knees and pointy elbows, giving him height where he lacks in length. His body is bulky, broad at the shoulders and haunches; his facial structuring echoes this, boxy and blunt at the end of his neck's truncated arch. Shadows of darker blue retreat under his eye-sockets and along his jawline, echoed in a swathe of navy across his back. It stretches from wing to wing and down his spine: a dark accent thinning to a near-invisible line at the base of his stubby, stumpy tail. Wide wings are habitually unfurled, balancing his awkward frame.

Jhairecki does not let Denalia's backing away go unnoticed, but at least he just grins. He looks more settled and nonchalant now, too, possibly because Rhaenyra is grabbing onto him. "Uta-what?" Not that he sounds particularly fascinated, even as he shoots a narrow-eyed look around the sands again. Where'd them other ones get off too?

Isabeau hears the shouting being at a bad angle to see the actual impression. She cranes her neck, waiting for the announcement of a name, barely remembering to keep an eye on the other dragon on the sands it looked like… Feilan and the green? Once he announces the green's name THEN she cheers! Much more than she did for the bronze. She turns back to the eggs in time to see the next one hatch.

Denalia listens to Feilan's pronouncement, but she's not exactly that thrilled. The name gets a slight flinch of a grin, but she doesn't seem to be all that impressed. So, maybe she IS jealous. "Shut up," is her only comment to Rhaenyra, before she turns back to eye the oncoming hatchlings.

Brawn Meets Brain Egg is still for now, just calmly waiting. Or perhaps gaining the energy to do that jumping all around thing. Yep, yep. Waiting.

Rozalija tilts forward enough to see Vostarik on Iasri's other side and she offers him a smile and a little wave with her free hand. "It's going to be okay." Was she telling him or herself or Iasri? Who knows. But she takes one deep breath, kind of shaky, and then turns back towards the hatching.

Erarei cracks a sportive smile at Feilan. "He got that green alright, or rather she got /him/. I approve." As if it mattered. By Darden she arrives by at an angle to preserve space. "Is it always customary to hold hands? I would hold yours but if you Impress I do not want to be strung along." Forgive her for winking.

Tilla jerks her head around, catching movement in the corner of her eye. Oh, a blue. "That one's really pale" Gee she's observant. She watches the other eggs wobble, tilting her head, and repeatedly wiping the sweat from her eyes. Shards that burns. Cold sweat has been replaced by hot sticky sweat as the heat from the sands blasts her from every direction.

Don Juan Triumphant Blue Dragonet rocks back onto his haunches and pulling his skeletal figure to its full, if currently unimpressive height. He spreads his wings with dramatic flair, his gaze locked on a single figure, lovely beneath her masculinity, an angel in disguise!

Rhaenyra -knows- Denalia's jealous. Duh. She latches on to Deni, at this point, whether the other wants it or not: one hand with Jhai, one hand on Deni's arm. Rhaenyra looks more pleased, now, than ever. Her best friend and her worst nemesis! Gotta love it. "Thank you, Dre!" she calls over, before… wait. What just happened? She peers at the blue dragon closing in funnily. "What's he -doing-?"

Darden grins over at Erarei and shrugs, "I don't know, but if you need a hand to hold, mine's here," he says with a deep breath. Then he's looking back to the hatchlings. The Cosmic Kid blue is grinned at, "He looks like he's in the middle of a growth spurt."

R'gis watches the hatchlings stagger around looking for their lifemates. "Oooo, he's got his eye on someone." he says, pointing at the blue dragonet.

Iasri lets out a small chuckle, low and sarcastic, "No Vos. I'm not going to save you from a mauling." is Iasri's response, her other hand squeezing against Roza's. Not Vos's shoulder, trust me. "Now there's two on the sands. Look, that one just exploded too." She's peeking Deni and Rhaen's way. "And one is heading towards them."

Tye is really digging this 'sit back and let the AWLMs do all the work' thing. A woman could get used to it. So instead of rushing around the sands, she watches the dragonet hatch. Her eyes, primarily, on the blue hatchling.

Dredos gives a sweet little smile over to Rhaenyra. "No problem." A step to one side, to be sure he's well away from the candidate that hatchling is looking at.

Denalia pauses for a moment, confused; even the grapple on her arm of Rhaenyra's is ignored. What the hell was /that/? She looks around, her eyes turning towards the crowd of dragons. Um. Okay. That was weird. Her muscles tense. Her eyes furrow. The ice cold blue depths of her eyes stare off into the distance for a moment, before she turns her face towards Jhairecki. "Stop playing games, Jhair," she hisses, angrily. "Shut up. Seriously. You know I don't like you."

Rhaenyra shifts a funny look to Denalia. "He didn't say anything," she points out.

L'fei is still looking a little dazed as he moves over towards S'lo, one hand resting on Utonallath as he goes. "So..you wanna call me../what/ now?" Oh yeah, he's a little dazed..little confused..and altogether quite a bit happy.

Vostarik looks kind of like he's going to be ill. We'll just chalk it up to proximity to Iasri. Twitch. Deni's oddness catches his eye, though. "Dude. Is /Deni/ hallucinating?"

Tilla peers, trying to figure out who the thin blue is closing in on..because whoever it is, it could be coming close to her. She gets ready to step out of the way, heeding the healer's advice to avoid cuts and bruises while on the sands. Agreeing with Dar "That he does…" she trails off, biting her lip.

Jhairecki just eyes Denalia, then Rhaenyra in quizzical fashion. "What'd I do, can't even smile at her? Comradery in our moment of crisis or something?" His brows lift, and he eyes his fellow former guard more.

Iasri gives a half hearted shrug, her hand pulling away from Vos's shoulder. "Probably. The sands are hot enough. And I'm crazy enough to get near you." At least she's honest.

Cosmic Kid in Full Costume Blue Dragonet shakes himself, hauling himself upright. He steps out of the egg shards, unfolding lanky, coltish legs, and catches his toes on the edge. The edge of the shard crumbles, but he stumbles, taking a quick set of shuffling steps to maintain his balance.

Rozalija shakes her head slowly towards Iasri. "T-there won't be any maulings," she says in a clear voice, hoping for the best. And when Vos points it out, she turns her eyes in the direction of Denalia, staring. "Yes, what Iasri said… it's probably very likely. All nervous." Because it all makes sense to her.

Don Juan Triumphant Blue Dragonet is being ignored! He lets out a roar of frustration, tension shuddering through his frame, then charges the pair holding back his precious angel. He halts just before the tall young woman between them and raises himself to his full height, once more, wings outspread and whirling gaze intent.

Don Juan Triumphant Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Denalia, and steps forward.

Darden bites his lower lip, but can't help a small giggle escaping. "I know how that one feels," he mutters. Then, "Deni! Congratulations!"

Rhaenyra falls back. "Don't eat me, please," she calmly states to the dragonet, bodily checking Jhai the other way. "Get out of her -way-." Or his way. Or… /their/ way.

Two eggs, Millions of Voices Silenced Egg and Balance to the Force Egg, on opposite ends of the sands, crack and fold, to reveal a brown and a blue. They flow and converge in a friendly meeting, before a pair of twins, boy and girl, from Nabol. The girl, Skye, reaches out towards the blue, enraptured, "Walkerth." The boy, Okanabi, now O'bi, throws his arms around the brown's neck and exclaims, "Kenobith!"

And that's another one gone. Vostarik is far enough from Denalia that he doesn't feel any immediate need to retreat, though. "Aw, crap. The guards are winning." He's got bets on that, too.

Tilla jumps back, sideways to get out of the dragonet's way. And then a huge grin crosses her face. "Denalia! Congratulations!" And her gaze is again diverted to the sands where she sees 3 more impressions bam bam bam. Whoo!

Dredos reaches over to give Darden's shoulder a little hit with his fingertips. "No kidding. Looks just like you." A crooked smirk. Someone's more relaxed, now that the intense blue is impressed and hopefully not about to charge.

Iasri chokes as that blue moves for impression. Deni? "Really?" That's said loud enough for people around her to hear. "Faranth help the weyr." Guards winning indeed. "I bet herders are going home empty handed." There might be a tinge of hope in the girl's voice.

Denalia isn't hallucinating! But if she isn't… She gulps, for a moment. "Rhaen…" she whines, looking off to the side, nervously, before turning her eyes outwards. What.. What does she do? She doesn't have to do anything, apparently. "I.. I.." She dips down onto her knees, looking up at the blue before her with her eyes watering, and the first tears the girl has shed in a long, long time, pulling down her cheeks. "Naz.. Nazrkiuulth. Of course I'm yours. I see.. I…" She leans out away from Rhaen and the others, collapsing into the blue's chest… Not hugging, merely leaning, her eyes closed.

R'gis grins as another dragonet Impresses and moves forward slightly to wave the new pair over. "Come on, younglings. Over here now." he calls, unable to remember the girl's name now.

Darden rolls his eyes and looks up at Dredos, "Yeah? Well…so do you!" He sticks his tongue out at Dredos and grins.

Isabeau actually cheers at that. Though this time she manages not to loose track of what's going on with the eggs and other hatchlings. She's got ahold of herself now, and is falling into an instinctive hatching mode.

"Did… did that blue…" Tye takes a few steps out onto the sands. "Yes! Yes he did! That's /my daughter/ out there!" And then Tye shoves her hands over her mouth. But the words were already said. "Denalia! That's my girl!" She makes a motion to the other weyrlingmasters and walks onto the sands. "I am /so/ proud of you, Deni. You are a /bluerider/!" And doesn't that just bring tears to the woman's eyes. "Now you and Nazkriuulth go to the side and take a well deserved breather." Sniffle.

T'ii shoves the brip of his hat upward, scratching his fingers through the too-long hair at his temple. "Denalia," he pronounces, turning toward Ch— the empty space on the side opposite Shazi. "I'll bet Tye has trouble with that pair," he continues, muttering vaguely at thin air again.

Oh man oh man oh man. S'lo is definitely working up a sweat hereno doubt due to the heat. As L'fei is taken care of, S'lo returns just in time for not one, but two new impressees. Being closer to Deni, he hops on over her way (despite R'gis's claim), telling her "Congrats! I knew you'd do it. Nu's up there, I think. If he's not though, I'll tell him! Oh! Follow me. Let's get away from hereover there. Food!"

Entropy Always Wins Egg does not rock so much as it bulges, a play of light caught from the corners of the eye.

Tilla grins and winks at Darden. "That blue looks like one that might enjoy alot of swimming, dont you think?" She laughs a little bit, tension broken momentarily by the thought that her friend might impress today.

Vostarik's hands fist in the fabric of his robe as he watches the new pair shuffle off. Or, uh, Deni fall over. "Nazkriuulth," he repeats under his breath. "Ugh."

Shazi snorts, folding her arms as she studies the newly Impressed pair. "That is an understatement," she mutters in response.

Rhaenyra stares. "Nazi -what-?" she questions. "I think Mynwiyath was on some sort of herbal aid during her flight. Listen to all these -names-." She grins, though, towards Denalia as they head away. "Look at that, Jhai. Aren't you happy for her?" She beams up at the handyman-turned-guard-turned-well, always was a slacker-turned candidate.

Rozalija's hand squeezes tightly Iasri's again. "Denalia!" she calls out cheerfully. "Congrats!" Was that a giggle? Yes. It wasn't /her/ blue at least, and she seems to relax a little bit. "I… I can't even pronounce that name," she says softly to the two next to her.

Darden catches his breath, "No, you don't think?" he asks Tilla. Hope enters his eyes and he looks at the blue with new interest. Then he shakes his head, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments, murmuring to himself.

"There's a—" lot of cursing as Jhairecki demonstrates the full diversity of several words in between shying back from the blue charging. Conveniently, the drawing back puts him about half behind Rhaenyra. "Oh." It impressed. "Hey. Um. Congrats. " With the scare over, he just watches the newly impressed pair, blinks. "Nazareth, I think," he adds to Rhaenyra, nose wrinkling.

R'gis snaps his fingers as Tye calls out to the new bluerider and grins. "Denalia! That's right." he says, turning to take charge of Skye and O'bi instead of Denalia. "Come on, get yourselves onto the sidelines." he says, eyes remaining on the Sands.

Cosmic Kid in Full Costume Blue Dragonet sets his legs firmly apart, bracing for long enough to shake, creaking his wings open with some effort. Once some of the goo is off, he seems to be in better control of his body, and with a slight unfurling of his wings, he steps forward, lifting his head to scan the candidates with more purpose.

Denalia barely moves for a moment, but it's Tye's hollering that wakes her from her daze, first. "I, um… Coming, sir!" She tries to stand, but it's a bit more awkward than she would've imagined. She breathes heavily, before whiping the tears from her cheeks, and wandering towards the edges of the Sands. She misses a lot that is said, but, her eyes turn back towards the Sands, the other candidates for a moment, with a brief smile and wave. She's been waiting for this her whole life. She doesn't care what anyone says, good or bad. Nazkriuulth follows, of course. He's apparently quite besetted with the girl, eh?

Erarei cannot help but shy in place, the contact heat from the sands already through her sandals. "This is unfortunate," reversing feet in quick succession solves nothing. "There goes Denalia and her dragon!" And possibly the end of the world? "Her mother will be honored." And envy crisply follows the happiness to her face. "I will hold your sleeve, okay?" Thusly attaching a hand to Darden's robe just as she said she would. "Well, he has a point you know." Giving in to Dredos's comment on the Cosmic Kid Blue and his resemblance to the adolescent.

Iasri is giving that blue the stink eye, huddling closer to the pair of herders flanking both sides. "All I know is that if anything comes charging, Vos is going to be thrown out first." Got it? "That blue looks," a sidelong glance and her head tilts almost sideways. "Kinda like Darden."

Entropy Always Wins Egg seems to take on an ethereal glow as its straining sides catch the light. Faint striations pierce the shimmering shell with each seeming breath, the tension building with a promise of chaos to come. Just when it seems it cannot take much more, it explodes in a blast of brilliant shards, leaving behind the regal figure of a powerful warrior queen, her chest heaving with exertion.

Intoxicating Warrior Queen Gold Dragonet
The glow of winter's sun warms the sweep of snowy wings; frost gives way to pale, liquid amber as it slings 'cross creamy shoulders and past the curve of a silver-shiny tail. Golden light, filtered through sails' expansive arch, fractures into dazzling disarray before spilling over the argent-washed glory of her hide. Bonfire's brilliance blazes rich and ruddy across broad chest and sturdy torso, gilded armor that sends lambent curlicues of violet smoke 'round her sinewy limbs and capable paws. Regal in bearing, there is still a wildness about her; from a fine-boned face, a matriarch's ruthless gaze sees all.

"You are /not,/" Vostarik points out, "going to throw me into the path of a /Darden/ dragon—" But then there's a gold. Oh snap. That shuts him right up.

Darden grins over at Erarei and rocks slightly, "Thanks. It's hot in here, yeah?" He shakes his head at Iasri, "Stop it, you're going to make me faint saying he looks like me!" He does look a little pale. "Besides, my tail doesn't look like that at all." "Oh, look, gold!" Distraction! "Shut up, Vos! There's nothing wrong with him!"

Rhaenyra shakes her head. "Whatever. I'm just glad Denalia got her blue." She bounces on hot toes— HOT FEET, people, HOT FEET— and curses at Jhairecki stomps on her toes. "Hey, can you -watch- what you're doing with your -feet- please?" she bitches at the guard, totally missing the hatching on the newest gold. Oops.

Tilla waves to Denalia, and then is riveted to the gold dragonet who just made her entrance to the sands. Her eyes grow wide and she pales a little, hoping it is not hers. And, raises an eyebrow at Darden's comment about his tail/butt..whatever. "Just make sure your butt is covered, Dar. That's all that matters, no matter what it looks like". She shakes her head, getting /images/ now.

Isabeau shakes her head and holds her tongue, there are enough sharp tongues going around for her peice of mind. She also is distracted by the appearance of the gold, though it brings a slight frown to her face, now there's a dragon that makes her all kinds of nervous.

R'gis disposes of his two sets of Weyrlings, leaving them to stuff themselves into sleep. "Ahhh, gold. Knew there'd be one." he mutters to himself.

"SHUT UP." Iasri nearly screaches, pulling back as that gold hatches. That hand held by Roza ripping from her grasp and up to her face. There's just a shock. And then she's starting to move carefully, slowly trying to move /behind/ Vos. He is taller. "Oh shards, it looks like it could kill."

T'ii's hand drops, reflexively reaching to clutch at a hand that isn't there. "It hatched," he breathes, voice heavy with relief. "Oh, thank Faranth, Chey, the—" His lips thin into a line, and he chews restlessly at the bottom one, worrying at a bit of chapped skin.

Cosmic Kid in Full Costume Blue Dragonet turns his head, attracted to the sound of Herders arguing. He lumbers along on his stilt-like legs, right towards…the one who didn't want to be in his way. Fortunately, rather than bowl anyone over, he lumbers his way to a stop with fanned wings to look down on Vostarik, eye to eye.

Cosmic Kid in Full Costume Blue Dragonet turns his jewel faceted eyes toward Vostarik, and steps forward.

Jhairecki deliberately steps on Rhaenyra this time. Yay for maturity. "Sorry." He's not. "Oughta watch where you stick those big things, yeah?" Smirk. He does cast one last smirk back over his shoulder, though, at Denalia's back. "Yeah, now she can suck up to the weyrlingmaster even better!" he says, with false excitement as he turns back. He sees the gold then. "Looks like the Weyr gets to go on after all."

As if watching the first lighting of a Christmas tree, S'lo turns in awe as the gold hatches. And he stares. And stares. And stares some more as if she'd impress in place. "Woah." Like he's never seen one before? Finally, awe passes and S'lo shuffles back towards R'gis, saying "Thank Faranth, right? Ut—there's another. You got him?" Because S'lo needs to catch his breath.

Intoxicating Warrior Queen Gold Dragonet shrugs off a clinging bit of shell with a hard outward flick of a long wing, then turns her head to stare at the expanse of candidates arrayed before her. She does not move immediately: she has the seconds needed for a brief tactical reconnaissance, and she uses it before committing to action.

Dredos gives a snort at something someone said. It's hard to say, with everyone getting all twitterpated by that gold. Though he too looks it over. And does the hot-foot dance along with the rest. A glance over to T'ii, a little twitch, and back to the hatchlings. As Vostarik impresses. "It's a good job he didn't pick you," is offered to Darden. "Would've been dangerous."

Brawn Meets Brain Egg doesn't hop all about. Nope, that's not its style. Instead, the ovoid simply quivers in place. The vibrating easily seen as it sways, just barely back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. And then… it stops. Just stops. All is silent with the egg, no movement, at least on the outside. A large /CRACK/ issues forth, echoing throughout the sands. And where there once was a egg, now stands a surefooted brown, peering out at the sea of candidates as what was once his shell falls to the ground like rain from the sky.

Kick Up A Row Brown Dragonet
Right as a trivet, this gentle giant, broad shoulders and a barrel chest adding the illusion of brutish strength to his massive form; a strapping lad, and well-formed, this dragon takes up more than his fair share of space. His worn leather hide hugs his figure like a much beloved coat: smooth, butter-cream suede creases every peak and valley of his massive figure, each whip-cord muscle defined with a rich, smoldering gold, and the burnished sheen of age wearing at every jaunty angle. Whiskey dribbles across his chiseled features, over the length of his stocky neck and burly shoulders, to dissipate into smoky whorls against the heft of his prodigious limbs. The dust of the trail settles heavy upon the folded blanket of his substantial wings, contentment in his travel-weary gaze.

We've Got It Goin' On Egg shimmies and shakes, lost in its own little world as it does a little dance. With a little wobble, it loses its balance and falls over, cracking into a gazillion pieces, to leave a dazed little green on the Sands. She quickly gets her bearings and sashays her way across the sand to pause before a young man from the Telgar backwoods. Stunned, the young Kifederlin, now K'fed, gives her a great big smooch. "Ah, Spearth! Of course, I'll love you forever and ever!"

Darden looks smug. Oh, yes. Very smug. "Congratulations, Vos!" he calls, grinning happily. "Aww, dangerous?" he asks Dredos, "What do you mean?"

Dredos gives a lazy shrug, the type of shrug that has no place in a hatching setting. "Just that it would be a lot of limbs to deal with. Tail or not."

S'lo doesn't have much of an option when rest is concerned. He's on his feet again, half-trotting towards K'fed to lead the new greenrider and his lifemate over there. Towards the edge. "This way, this way!"

Vostarik's first move is not to step toward the blue, but to shy away - the panic in his expression is short-lived, though, and by the time he gathers his wits enough to look back to the other candidates, there's only transparent relief on his face. "His name's Svitelloth," and there's an edge of near-hysterical triumph in his voice now; "Svitelloth!"

Tilla calls out a congratulations to Vostarik, and then her attentions go back to Dredos. "Eh? Explain?" And, of course, another hatchling hits the sands, itsa brown. "Its a brown over there. Looks more steady on his feet than some of the other hatchlings..I wonder why.." She raises an eyebrow, trying to figure it out.

Rozalija glances at Iasri when her hand is torn and then quickly turns her eyes back to the gold, and her breaths start coming in in quick little gasps. "Not here, not here, not here," she says softly, her face completely pale. She barely even noticed the blue coming their way until it was right there! She jumps and turns to Vostarik, gasping. "V-vos! He's yours!" Oh, yay! She smiles brightly to him, but now their candidate group was quickly becomming less and less.

Rhaenyra stares. "WAS THAT VOSTARIK. Was that my -apprentice-?" she questions Jhairecki, gripping his hand and arm with vice-like grip. "JHAI. Did you -SEE- that?" Meanwhile, a brown is hatched and a gold roams the sands with predatory grace; Rhaenyra, currently, is caught up in a rather atypical shock. SHOCK. "Did you -SEE- that? What did he say? Svie-what? Svie…alletath? What?" She strains to hear, sending an imploring look Dredos-ways. A calming breath brings Rhae more into control. A bit.

R'gis nods to S'lo, glancing toward the new blue pair. "Yeah, got him." he says, stepping that direction. "Come on, errr … Vostarik, or something like that, wasn't it?" he says, vaguely remembering this one. "We have food for Svitelloth over here." Yeah, Rage likes to get the names of prospective mates of his green right. Oh boy.

Shazi's brows furrow in consternation at T'ii. Her hand reaches out to touch T'ii on the shoulder, then drops again, the gesture aborted .

Shortly thereafter, The Renewable Airforce Egg dumps a pernicious little snake of a green on the Sands. She slinks her way towards a boy from Bitra who isn't paying attention. Catching him unawares, she gooses him in the rear. Suddenly his wrists go limp and he gives a girlish squeal of glee, "Oh, Peggith, how you've changed me!"

Dex sees Vostarik Impress, and groans. "/Why/." This is going to be miserable, unless something really good happens. Fei and Vos? Seriously. You've gotta be kidding her.

Darden ohs. He shifts his weight and looks nervously at the eggs, hopping a little on the sands and then going still. "That brown is very handsome."

Part 2

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