Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman 
azhct[M:-1490]
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Post by Azhdarchid on Aug 23, 2011 13:41:53 GMT -5
Clouds padded the Bowl skies like tabs of butter, Rukbat straddling the western Rim and swimming in rich yellows. The eastern half of Dalibor was as yet illuminated, while the rest swam in shadows, split by the wide bridge between the two entrances of the Sands. Lexony crossed quickly to the west, arms coiling on his own chest as with the dark came the cold of midwinter. Not a fleck of snow to be had and yet his body felt packed in it.
The bold charge on the heated hollow of the Sands did not go unpunished: he was galloping up the steps when a dancing flicker of black dust whipped into his eyes. The Candidate staggered over the top step and into the stone channels up the Stands, mittens groping helplessly over the new blindness. The young man never made a sound. He kept walking, occasionally getting one eye open to check where he was going. He earned blurred views of the tan earth beneath the Stands, and the persistent gleam of the massive mother queen.
This was the first day he had enjoyed the time-- or perhaps the gall --to visit. He only knew to stop when his legs met the rock barricade before the lowest row of benches. Hot, eyes streaming, he stripped his mittens and shuffled sideways to the nearest bench's corner. There Lexony sat, defeated before he'd begun. The muscles along his abdomen contracted with each sting from the debris as he touched his fingers to the inside corners of his eyes. When he drew the probing digits back by a couple inches he could see wet black smears on their tips
A great many dragons gave to a rising rumble outside, issuing complaints and notices as they bore their riders down to dinner. The food would be taken in the dining hall, for those that could bear it. Lexony had edged out of this one meal for the privilege of sitting somewhat near the eggs and rubbing his dusted eyes. He had been warned of the annoyance, but it was also true that the wind brought misfortune on who it would.
And so it had.
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Post by purnip on Aug 23, 2011 15:49:15 GMT -5
The weather was indeed chilly; chilly enough to drive sensitive folks outside to soak up the light like sun-baked dragons. Behind partly cloudy skies, Rukbat provided half the comfort as it allowed more of that colder, heavier air to wrap about those who dwelt below. Some never considered the idea of chasing the sun, or starting up a fire to keep warm. They sought other, simpler ways of escaping winter weather, despite the trouble it could get them into.
Ridley never intended to put himself in unnecessary danger unless he conveniently forgot all about it.The danger in question was undoubtedly Couineth's wrath, whilst it slipped his mind that the Queen had recently clutched. Unlike most Candidates at Dalibor, Ridley did not approach this Hatching business like the 'big deal' it was being made out to be. In fact, he was rather nervous about it. Those creatures had sharp claws! And teeth! For biting! He had a greater chance of getting hurt than he had to Impress. His head wasn't at such a high altitude. He knew his chances were slim. To this day he still thought that Search dragon made some kind of mistake--not that he was complaining or anything. Still better than home, chores and all.
When it boiled right down to it, the Hatching Sands were the most comfortable place to be in this sort of weather. Ridley was on his way through the caverns, drawing nearer and nearer to the source of heat. He couldn't stand the cold. He would migrate like a pigeon if he only had the wings. It made his aching bones and joints ache all the more. What, was he getting sick? His voice was leaving him too! He noticed it right away this morning. He thought about paying the healers a visit in case his symptoms worsened, but he was afraid of what they'd find out. Maybe he had some sort of rare disease that would stick him with a one-way ticket back home. The more he worried about it, the less he wanted to get checked up. It could just be some kind of winter bug.
Ridley sniffed as he entered the stands, raising his head at the sudden change of scenery and pausing entirely. "Oh wow--what's this?" His voice was absolutely wretched. Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and scoped things out from where he stood. The moment he saw the golden gleam of Couineth's hide, he took a step back. What was he thinking? "Oh! Of course..." he muttered. This is the Queen's clutching lair! And he nearly waltzed inside without a care in the world. Why was it so warm in here? He cautiously moved forward to detect the source of heat. Meanwhile, his eyes kept glancing over the Gold hulk to check if she was aware of him or not. Sleeping, perhaps? Chances are, she could be asleep, in which case he could sit around here and warm up for a bit. If she was awake, she would definitely kill him. No question about that. A clutching Queen would just crush him like a grape if he was caught. Now he didn't want to go in at all. Sincerely, he preferred freezing to death or forever enduring the cold to that. But...
There he was. Another boy, just like him, or at least a Candidate like him. Ridley was curious now. So it was okay for him to be out here then? Was Couineth asleep? Oh, thank Faranth. So he would have a chance to warm up before dinner then. He quietly made his way over, willing to keep is mouth shut for the sake of getting a few minutes to bask in this pleasant climate. He sat a few feet from Lexony, tightly curling the upper half of his body once he was down. "Oooohoho. Leaping lizards, that's fantastic," he said to himself, wriggling in his seat. "Wretched weather, isn't it? All that cold and not a flake of snow."
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Ruin
Wingrider 
ruinct[M:-786]
We build the worlds we wouldn't mind living in
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Post by Ruin on Aug 24, 2011 3:11:44 GMT -5
Not his usual time to be here, within the warmth of the cavern, but he had managed to find a free moment between his typical duties—at least one enough to spare another glance at the colourful jewel-like ovoids that hardened on the heat of the sands protected by the golden expanse of dragonhide. Just a moment, he had promised himself, the barest glance and a handful of heartbeats to rest his wearied back and then he would go. The where, of course, was most likely to be the stables, but the why was a far different beast. The walkways would need shoveling in the coming sevendays—even if they did not exhibit that need now, and even if the need would be far less than it had been at Ruatha.
He had seen the clever little shovels they pawned off on the Candidates here to keep such work done, and he’d have none of that—not him. There were far better ways to accomplish the tasks they set to the boys and girls that simply needed kept out of trouble. Or rather away from things they could use to cause trouble. Like buckets if the persistent and consuming paranoia was to be trusted. As he strolled along the rail-side walkway one large hand traced that worn divider which kept avid viewers from pitching forward into the path of an angry Queen; bandage-free now after many sevendays of healing, and rejuvenated by the promise of a coming Hatching, Sebol was happier than he had been in many months.
This happiness was spoken through his willingness to approach his fellow Candidates, both of which he did not know intimately, rather than crossing above them on the inner walkway—and thereby begging escape via that top entrance, he maintained his current course around the curvature of the stone railing. Few of his fellows came here at night, of course few of them showed signs of restlessness so that was to be expected, so he was partially curious as to the nature of their visit—or, more succinctly—the nature of their thoughts on the eggs below. Both of the young men he knew to be willing speakers, Ridley especially, and though his dealings with both had mostly been relegated to Candidate lessons, he was willing enough to slip into their company.
Not that one of his side could really slip into anything unnoticed. As he drew closer his sensitive eyes lidded against the pale brightness of the outside cold-grey day, for a few brief footfalls the pair of Candidates were bathed in that swath of light as it struck into the dim cavern, and then he passed into that pale swath of light-bathed stone and was able to turn his head away from the hindering glare. Beside them now, or rather beside the man who had, as of yet, remained quiet. ”Lex, Ridley,” Sebol greeted them pleasantly with a bright grin, sinking down onto the warm stone bench.
Ridley’s small size negated Sebol’s height advantage, however, and he had to tilt his head around Lex to pay the Candidate attention. Having toned down his grin into an affable smile, Sebol offered up a slight shrug of his shoulders before replying quietly—ever mindful of the brooding Queen. ”It is unfortunate. I quite like snow.” Even before his branding he had preferred adding layers to sweating needlessly once all that could be stripped had been, but now—having weathered the mid-turn heat swathed in longshirts, he was pleased not to drown, and to fit in. Besides, even the animals seemed to weather the chill far better than oppressive warmth.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
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Post by Azhdarchid on Aug 25, 2011 10:45:50 GMT -5
Lexony lifted his head at the first exclamation, the final black tears departing but his vision remaining gauzy. His watering, red-lined eyes with blackdust traces smeared around the sockets squinted at the cautious advance of Ridley. He could just make out the very clear blue in the boy's eyes, and the flash of glow-light off his glasses' frame.
"I think I would prefer snow," he replied amicably, irritated eyelids wrinkling in his effort to smile through his bleariness. He tugged one of his mittens out of its jacket pocket and started dabbing the exorcised dust off his cheeks, rolling his eyes toward the unmoving golden blur of Couineth. Of course it could not be only Ridley to have a viewing of both eggs and accidents, and Sebol joined them with a ready comment. Lexony cleared his throat; he had not even heard the giant's approach.
He turned his head cautiously toward the tallest Candidate, making little attempt to hide his condition. "Greetings Sebol." He could make out the white glare of teeth on the other's face, which unless he had accidentally offended the man somehow was most likely a show of mirth. Lexony grinned back. "You seem well." The blond lowered his black-soaked mitten and put his eyes to the Sands. He blinked till the scene came into focus. "I finally made it down here," he added in good humor, wagging his mitten like a battle standard before he stuffed it back in his pocket. "You too Ridley, from the sounds of it." He and the younger Candidate could have been putting on a comedy of errors tonight. "Are the eggs...are they..." A final blink and the veil was lifted.
The ex-guard rocked in his seat, each impulse toward the tiny cluster of life at Couineth's feet, but he never stood. Too used to seeing eggs that rocked and broke and birthed, he was shocked by the platitude of the clutch. Absurdly he got the notion that the dragonets were already full-formed, sleeping instead of growing. He realized he had paid as little attention to the eggs in Hatchings as he had to the Candidates. He had always been pulled along by the wriggling appearance of life, not its inanimate caretaker. But the egg fragments were good luck, if you could get on the Sands for one.
He needed no such pieces anymore. He needed the contents. So did some twenty-four other Candidates. Lexony exhaled slowly, a pain in his gut, hope injured by fact. "It would be an honor," he murmured at last. "A great honor." His eyes searched his boots for a moment, then went back to the half-buried shells. No matter their color, the material was distinct, and even a fool that walked into blackdust could not mistake any for rocks. Jewels did not compare either, though that was the closest term. "What a spectacle. A dragons' Gather will always outdo our affairs." He looked over the queen. "Couineth," he began, solemnly as a forgotten incantation. "Pardon my gawking." Lexony even bowed his head.
His next sigh came shaken by irrepressible excitement, back tensing to quell further shudders. "Drummer beat and piper blow, right boys?" he chuckled.
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Post by purnip on Aug 27, 2011 10:50:15 GMT -5
Well there you have it! A perfect way to get the ball rolling! They all appreciated snowfall. Of course, it would be a lot nicer if ashes didn't fall alongside those pristine flakes. Whatever snow did settle in the past couple of days was so blackened, Ridley hadn't the slightest desire to touch it.
The boy responded to Sebolaren's greeting with a "Hello!", a chirp of a salutation that wouldn't wake a slumbering giant as it succeeded well enough in getting his excitement across. He really hadn't expected to be joined by yet another Candidate. In retrospect, it shouldn't have been so surprising with a clutch hardening on the Sands below. He glanced down immediately after, partly ashamed of the crack in his voice and partly curious of those gem-like ovoids below. They did look like gems, didn't they? If he hadn't known any better, he would have simply assumed they were massive precious stones.
Ridley kept shifting around in his seat, feeling stiff and sore all over. This couldn't have been the weather alone, because he had endured a fair share of winters that weren't as uncomfortable as this one. Maybe he was finally hitting that age. He asked about facial hair once because he wondered when he'd have to start shaving it off. Apparently, at around his age, he's supposed to start growing exponentially. It'd make a world of sense actually. His parents were rather tall, and he was a runt throughout his childhood. How long was he supposed to hurt like this? He still kept weighing the idea of visiting a healer before the hatching. You know. So he doesn't have to wait until after he's been mauled to complain about pain. Of course this only started after the fire. He was moved into the lower caverns with many of the other victims with a simple case of smoke inhalation. He could have avoided that too, if that rude fellow hadn't tripped over him on his way out. There were many possible explanations for the loss of his voice and the pains throughout his body. He just had to think up a time, set an appointment, and follow through. Easier said than done.
Lexony uttered his name, so Ridley started paying attention right then and there when it was a little to late to determine why. "Huh? What was it?" Ugh, that voice wasn't even his own. Ghastly! The boy cleared his throat and then noticed how Lex was leaning in to get a better look at the clutch below. Ridley followed and did the very same thing, wondering if maybe he had missed something interesting about them that everyone else noticed already. Nope. Still fourteen or fifteen eggs on the Sands below, some big and some small, but none of them were all that impressive. He expected dragon eggs to be a lot larger actually. It gave him all the more hope that after he was done growing, he'd be nearly twice as tall as he was now. The way Couineth towered over them made it look like the Gold was guarding a wher clutch.
He was still listening to Lexony, just in case he was about to elaborate on whatever he address him for. A sentence fragment, followed by a somewhat awe-struck stare at the eggs below. Ridley squinted at them in case he was really missing something this time, but he couldn't determine what. "What? Are they alright?" Whatever was normal for a dragon's clutch was beyond the bespectacled boy. Were they too small? Did one of them have a crack already? How long did it take for the eggs to crack anyways? He knew there was going to be an awful lot of humming when it was time for them to come back here for the Hatching, but did the eggs start to crack before then?
"It would be an honor. A great honor."
Ridley glanced back at Lexony before settling into his seat again. This Hatching really was a big deal then. Maybe he ought to be taking it more seriously. He saw many dragonriders since he moved here, and he never really thought of how those pairs first met. He always assumed they've been one since they were born, as if both man and dragon poured out of one shell. Silly thought, since those riders all had perfectly human parents. It just never intrigued him enough to think about until it was relevant to him--like it was getting to be right now. Even Lexony's attempted at a light-hearted turn didn't sit right with the boy.
"So those...eggs--they've got dragons in them; I mean, proper dragons, right? Bloody massive in just a few turns, and they all come from those tiny, little eggs. That just goes to show you, even the runt of the lot could tower over you in a matter of weeks. Unbelievable!" He couldn't help but smile a bit at that, because he hoped his case would be similar. He already felt dwarfed by Sebol that afternoon. "Aren't there more Candidates than there are eggs? That's good, right?"
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Ruin
Wingrider
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We build the worlds we wouldn't mind living in
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Post by Ruin on Aug 27, 2011 21:09:09 GMT -5
”Well enough,” Sebol replied cheerfully, ”you both as well, save for the crackdust.” Though who could complain to dust when there could be Thread instead; a somewhat chilling reminder of what would be in a few short months, but first—the Hatching. When sitting in this quiet cavern it was hard to focus on the loss of life that sat behind and before them, instead it was easier to simply exist, and wait, for that fast approaching day. Where everything would change. Everything or nothing. ”I find myself here often,” came the quiet finish to Lexony’s brandished mitten, it was an admission of guilt, or perhaps an acceptance, but Rayna had never turned down his humble offerings or the wineskins promised to her from the Kitchens. That was welcome enough, for him anyway.
Sebol took note of Lexony’s current condition as he tried to overcome the dust that had blown into his eyes, and he would; so rather than do no justice to the clutch—he was no Harper—he remained silent. The nervous reaction of Ridley was noted as being peculiar, but from what Xiro’el had said the boy was prone to anxious bouts. Still, the eggs were there plain as the Red Star, save perhaps the golden mainsails that rustled around them protectively. As expected the Candidate beside him was able to flush the blackness from his vision, and then the man could look upon the clutch with seeing eyes and no outward influence—the reaction made Sebol smile.
As they looked so did he, and while the sight was no more new to him than it had been previously, it was no less wondrous. The words, when his fellow Candidate spoke them, rang true, and he echoed them with quiet agreement; ”Indeed.” Quietly he thought that Couineth might even like Lexony’s apology—had she heard it—being that the Queen seemed quite put out by her own clutch. It did steal all of the attention from her. Grey eyes flashing from the clutch over to Ridley, Sebol offered up a bright smile. ”Proper dragons of all sizes and colours,” and they’d come out as mewling lost eggwet babes; ”they’re rather hopeless when they hatch though: Nothing like the regal lot which bask in Rukbat’s light.”
Quite different, actually, and there was always the possibility one would find a reason to maul any of them, but those weren’t happy pleasant words were they? Neither would be that final question, not for many who would Stand, though he was square with it—the last group had outnumbered the eggs in the same manner. ”Aye, twenty-five to fifteen, but there will be more brought in before the Hatching most likely—Searchdragons are busiest when the eggs are hardening. More Candidates means less a chance a dragon won’t find his match and between. Can’t afford such losses going into a Pass.”
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
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Post by Azhdarchid on Aug 29, 2011 17:35:32 GMT -5
Lexony's attention remained on the eggs at first, but with each blurt from Ridley attaining a completely different pitch, he had to spare a grin for the boy.
"Quite the interesting time to become a rider," the yellow-haired Candidate said, the richness of color having climbed down his face and ringed his jaw in a beard for the Winter. His voice was likewise well-developed, warm and moderately deep, without any signs of splintering. His brown eyes looked upon Ridley with a jovial shine, though he did not outright laugh at the other's predicament. The further proclamations, though, wilted some of Lexony's enthusiasm for teasing. It seemed that in addition to lacking manhood, Ridley lacked a solid grasp on what was going on: both the splendor stretched before them, and the future threat to it.
Sebolaren filled in some of the gaps, and Lex nodded to his words before adding as a caution: "And you will be expected to ride your dragon into Thread, risking his life and yours. The beasts' great size is a disadvantage, and they are more like to get scored than we puny sorts what ride them." Alright, perhaps even his most pessimistic impulses were to be muffled under present circumstances. Self-deprecating humor was a specialty. "I don't know about hopeless," he said as an aside to Sebol. "I hear they talk legibly straight from birth, and can always tell you what's wrong with them. That's a lot better than a runner!" The holdbred might not have had a completely solid grasp on just how intelligent dragons were, but he did have the thought to add: "Better than a baby, too."
He got up off the bench, leaning over the barrier like a properly obsessed would-be rider. Lexony actually sensed little perturbation in himself. He was used to waiting for something to happen, and he had always been prepared when it did, except for one or two minor things-- all in the past. "And best no dragon gets stuck with his second-best selection either," he joked. But they said the man made the dragon, so apparently there was only ever one choice. "Lifemates," the dragonriders called them, and it was not to be regarded the same way as a wife or Weyrmate. If the first choice was not met, there would be no other.
His gaze wandered to Sebol, sizing up the Ruathan's determination, trying to see if it matched his stature by now. "One of the fifteen then," he advised him quietly, as if he had some right to do so. Lexony straddled his fingertips over the top of the barrier, running them idly across the stone. "So are the two at the center the king eggs then? They're enormous." In all his Hatching viewings, he had never been so close as to distinguish size, or to know that these specimens did not quite measure up to the previous clutches. "I wonder what the color of the shell says, since it can't just be the dragon's shade. How about the pale one on the right? Blank and untroubled? And the dark blue...confident, not easily shaken."
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Post by purnip on Aug 29, 2011 20:31:44 GMT -5
Perhaps Ridley was the only Candidate on the planet who was somewhat relieved to hear of the human to dragon ratio. That meant he could easily come away with nothing. He was less certain these days on whether or not it was better than walking away with a hatchling by his side. He met a few of the dragonriders here--curious as he was and despite his apprehension. They seemed to be more than pleased about sharing their entire lives with one of those large, scaly beasts. He would have changed his mind completely if he was promised safety, but as it was, a wher Candidate was mauled to death that the last Hatching. Mauled--a harsh word if there ever was one! But if that clutch down there had one among them that belonged to him, and it went between because he was too much of a coward to show up...well...sometimes, saving something important is worth dying for. Sometimes. If it was really, really important. And there was nowhere left to go in life. Candidacy was his last chance at making something of his time alive.
Lexony looked worse off than Ridley was, but the boy held his tongue for a change since he noted this over time. He wondered if it was this 'black snow' making everyone sick. Oh, and the fire. That probably left some scars. Ridley was lucky enough to come away with a bad case of smoke inhalation and a few bumps and scratches. Nothing serious. He could have died back there too; he was in the dining hall when it started.
The two older boys continued to talk about dragons, a subject run into the ground since Couineth flew. It was a shame the youngest knew so little of them! His mother never talked about them. The most she ever told him was what he couldn't do. All he learned of the world, he had to pick up from those around him, and being a hold-born child he knew next to nothing about the special denizens of the weyr. He simply knew that they were gigantic and they protected holds and received tithings. Candidate lessons taught him quite a lot, but he had no advantage over the weyrbrats or the truly interested parties. So, as he ever rarely did, Ridley stayed quiet for a while as the older Candidates exchanged wisdom.
Threadfighting really scared him, but luckily to Ridley that was turns away, even if he Impressed one of the fifteen below. Not only was it a deadly chore, but like most chores, it had to get done nearly ever day. Over three-hundred days a year, he would be putting his life in mortal danger. Who in their right mind could take such a risk? The anxiety did melt clean away when they moved on from Thread. He grinned a bit when Lexony made the remark about hatchlings having more intelligence than human children. That was ah...great news actually. He was hoping he could reason with these creatures, especially if one was charging at him with a thirst for blood. "Love that--intelligence. All the better to reason with, am I right, or what?" His bright blue eyes searched for equally relieved reactions from his fellow Candidates, but they looked away when he noted the desperation to contribute in his statement. Now he really wished he was attentive during his lessons! He couldn't even remember any of the questions he had about dragonkind. "Of course--you know...they're still newborn animals. Impulsive, rash..." His tone dropped to a mutter, as he was now only speaking for the sake of saving face and consequently failing to do so.
Ridley kept glancing from Lexony to Sebolaren, trying to determine who was leading this conversation. When Lexony mentioned colors, and what the shells might have said about the dragons within them, the boy was again lively with enthusiasm, more than ready to talk about something he could simply fabricate based on personal opinions. He focused his attention on the clutch, or whatever Couineth was allowing them to see of it, and started picking on a few of them. "So that little green one--right there, on the edge, kind of spotty--that one looks like a real piece of work. I bet, she's going to be classy, smart, but fun! Loads of fun! And that big purple one right there? Real nuisance--he's going to--she's going to light the weyr on fire all over again. Not literally--not--too soon? Was that too soon?" He looked to the older boys, brow wrinkled in worry. Mentioning the fire like it was some kind of joke; not smooth at all. People died in that accident.
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Post by spooky on Aug 30, 2011 13:41:25 GMT -5
Goodness. You guys write long posts, hard to measure up. *stretches writing muscle* Here goes something. [/center] Nai wandered deliberately across the snow. That was a conundrum. Wandering, but deliberate. She knew where she was going, where she headed, and where she wanted to end up. She wasn't sure if she actually wanted to be there, at least not yet. So she wandered, on purpose. A few extra steps in one direction, then back another, then forward again. If anyone had attempted to track her through the snow, they might conclude the young candidate had had a bit too much wine. That wasn't the case though. 'Get over it.' she chided to herself. Nai then ducked her head down and trudged in a much more straight line towards the Hatching Sands. It was cold out, but with a warm coat, warm breeches, and warm boots on, she didn't feel it too bad. Her nose felt a little nipped, and her eyes had the slightest sting, but it didn't bother her too much. She'd spent time in High Reaches Hold. It got much colder, and much snowier there. This felt much more bearable. After a few minutes, she reached the edge of the Hatching Cavern. She shook bits of snow and ash off of herself, and strode in. As soon as her feet met the warm Sands, she stopped, placing her hands in her pocket, and looked. There were eggs, quite a lot of them, at least to her mind. She'd never seen a dragon clutch. She only had the sparsest of knowledge about them as well. Coiled in and around the eggs was the large golden queen, Couineth as Nai recalled her name to be. She was large, and exquisitely beautiful. The eggs had mystical promise about them, shivering with potential. The Queen had already realized potential, laying there in full glory and beauty. It was hard to know which to look at, Queen or eggs. She was vaguely aware of a group of lads up on the Stands, but she didn't pay them much attention. After all, queen dragon and eggs, or gangly fellows? One saw gangly fellows all the time. She removed her hands from her pockets, and undid her coat. She didn't take it off, at least not yet, but it was far too warm in the cavern to keep it fully toggled. She glanced around, noticing the carved stairs up into the Stands. She figured thats where she should go... but... there was something tempting about walking a little ways. There were a few other spots on the Stands where you could ascend up into them anyways. She could always hop the rail if needed. With a shrug she proceeded forward, crossing the Sands. She hugged pretty close to the Stands, not wanting to stray to close to the Queen and her eggs. She didn't know dragon behavior, but most mama animals were protective of their babies. She kept her muscles tensed, her body slightly turned, and one eye on the eggs and mother for the whole walk. After a nerve-racking minute or two, she reached the midpoint of the Stands, and hurriedly climbed up into them. That had been freakier than she had thought it'd be. After a second she turned and headed towards the group of boys...men...both. It was probably a good idea to socialize with people who she might be in a Weyrling group with. She waved a little wave as she walked over, "Hey.. uh... I'm Nai." she felt a little flustered, not sure what else to say. "So... you're candidates?" as soon as the question was out Nai kicked herself mentally. Of course they were candidates. Stupid, stupid question. She tried to think of something else to quickly cover it up. "So... do you guys think you've spotted that egg that might just hold your dragonet?" that was better. It wasn't worded particularly gracefully, but maybe it drew attention away from the dumb question. She also turned and leaned on the rail, partially because she was interested in the clutch and Queen. Partially to hide the pink on her cheeks. [/size] |
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Reky
Alphahandler
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Post by Reky on Aug 31, 2011 10:55:02 GMT -5
Osine had nothing to do. Her hands were sore from working leather all day, but she would have gladly done it until night fell. She was a tanner at heart. However, all the other weyrtanners were as well, and their hearts had called for a group break before getting back to the flightsuits. With the Pass approaching, they had been working double time to get every weyrling outfitted and every ill-fitting set of hides replaced. She kept a list of her own measurement in her chest of drawers for when she was a rider. One less weyrling to measure.
She appreciated the sore stiffness in her hands and arms in a way that made her feel incredibly useful. She was glad her candidate chores could include long days with the tanners, but she worried how it would be if she Impressed. Dragons were time-consumers, she heard. If it took up every single drop of her time... Osine frowned. She would have to let it know, quite plainly, how she liked her life to run: in a timely fashion. Currently, though, with nothing else to do, Osine found herself walking uselessly. Out of lack of options, she decided to finally drop by the clutch.
She hadn't avoided it on purpose, so to speak. It had just been out of the way and not as demanding of her time as tanning, eating, sleeping. It hadn't been in her schedule. What difference did it make to see them early as opposed to the day of the Hatching? Osine did not understand. Still, candidates were repeatedly in and out of the stands to gawk at the well-guarded round objects.
Entering the Sands, she understood some of the allure, at least, but not all. Arriving only minute or so before Nai, she was privy to snippets of the conversation between Lexony, Sebolaren and Ridley, only the latter of which she knew with any formality (and wished she didn't). As Ridley's involvement suggested, the conversation was a little to fantastical for her to stomach. Since when did the colour of an egg influence the dragonet inside? She caught herself wondering if the yellow egg up front would contain a dragon just as sunny before labeling the thought as airheaded and dreamy.
Osine made no move to integrate herself into the group and was instead content to stroke the scarf of a firelizard around her neck. Snakey crooned and gurgled and tossed her tail in haphazard happiness. When Nai came and spoke, however, Osine's mouth opened.
"That's ridiculous," she said. Subtlety was not her element. "There's no way to tell. No way to choose, either. They're all just eggs." Just eggs. Some could be one's favourite colour. Other than that, proposing one that would be theirs was all based on ego. Either you were cocky and picked a big one, or a small one if you were humble or cocky and trying to hide it. Osine didn't bother to guess. She wasn't even sure if she would Impress this time around. She let her hand drop from Snakey's eyeridge and the pitiful creature squawked out of confusion. [/blockquote] |
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Ruin
Wingrider
ruinct[M:-786]
We build the worlds we wouldn't mind living in
Posts: 1,137
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Post by Ruin on Sept 1, 2011 20:26:24 GMT -5
Sebolaren made as if to reply to Ridley, or even Lexony; he had not missed the quiet implication, and it warmed him to know that even Candidates he was not close with were privately assured of his Impression, but then more Candidates began to file into the stands. One of them even made a harrowing trip across the Sands during which Sebol spent most of the time watching the sleeping Queen wondering if she would wake and chase the lot of them from their perches. All at once there seemed to be an incredible crowd of bustling opinionated Weyrfolk, and he wasn’t very particular on it.
Not to mention it was still day and he’d been on his way out before falling in with Lex and Ridley as it was. That was fine then, the perfect excuse to send him back to chores, and he would return with the night to bring Rayna her treats. Smiling at each in turn, so none would feel left out of his attention, he rose slowly to his full height and bid forgiveness—and farewell—with a wave of his hand. Without tarrying, he then slipped up the stone steps that led out to the stone ramp which would deliver him to the Bowl; Sigard was a silhouette against the light as the Blue found his shoulder when the Stands were left behind.
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