Reky
Alphahandler
rekyct[M:-999]
SO PRO
Posts: 1,554
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Post by Reky on Jan 8, 2013 21:01:42 GMT -5
Sian was down.
It had all happened with terrifying speed and force. Watching the bronze approach was like watching a storm roiling on the horizon - gale-strength winds, whipping water and electricity with no regard for the poor desert-born boys in its path. It was inevitable. Dalibor seemed intent on soaking them to the bone, and it did not discriminate between rain and blood. And when humans were born, they were naked, screaming, small, and afraid, but the bronze was none of that. The bronze was born a storm.
Sian was down, bleeding, and revealed. Indecent. Hakotep finally moved - snapped his head around to stare at the ravaging and just as quickly snapped it back. Sian's exposed body was but a blur in his mind, more red than woman and he didn't have the mind to process it. He stared devoutly ahead as though it would save him. His jaw tightened and a hard ball of nausea swelled in his throat. Then, just as fast as Sian had been knocked to the ground, his world was kicked out from under his feet and the cavern tilted sharply in his vision.
He was sucking air back into his winded lungs, arching his back away from the burning sands, but something was stopping him. Something had knocked him down in the first place. He turned his spinning head up to face the beast, hearing the sand whispering in his hair as he did. The smell of an empty throat and an empty stomach breathed into his face. The smell of blood, too -- and heat. It rushed over his skin and curled cooling around his ears, making each hair on his body raise in anticipation. He was staring into the maw of something terrible indeed, and for what seemed like an eternity, the moment hung in time.
His heart pounded, he panted for breath like a gaping fish, and still he stared fiercely into the face of the bronze dragonet. It was not a stare of accusation. He was just some desert holdbrat; he had no special status to wave in front of a dragon like a shield. No white flag in his pocket, either - though he supposed he was just wearing one. A giant white flag of acceptance wrapped all around his squirming body. His stare, rather, was one of stubborn daring. 'Do it,' his eyes said. And yes, he was afraid. He was pinned with a storm above him and fire below. He had every right to be afraid. But when he had traveled the dunes of Igen to meet his fate at Dalibor, he had been fully willing to stare into the black mouth of the Plague -- of a slow, sleeping, agonizing death. Instead, he burned his eyes into the face of a very possible, forceful, swift one. He wouldn't even have time to think, would he?
'Do it,' his eyes said. He wasn't going to beg for mercy from a dragon. He wouldn't let himself. If this was what was going to happen, then so be it. He didn't care. But he dredged up fight enough not to wilt underneath the bronze's heat. He was from the desert, after all. Heat was nothing. Death was a wrong step away; a forgotten waterskin; a rogue sandstorm. For now, all his secret troubles were cast aside. In his fear, he was stripped down to what he was at the core: Hakotep, son of Teyak, from Igen - and nothing more than that.
But then there was Sian, her hand connecting with the bronze's snout and darting back.
"Sian!" he barked, his voice harsh and full of warning. He had been settled with the bronze. He had stared into its teeth and its throat and seen the blood there, and he wanted no more red to collect in the blue. If he could keep it away from Sian, and away from Ghris--
Hakotep shifted suddenly under the dragonet. He dragged his left arm out to put it between the king's maw and Sian's already battered body. He was still on the ground, still caged by the bronze's limbs but with his back now to its belly, and his other hand was sinking into the sand and screamed of pain. But he couldn't argue with the bronze. It wasn't a conflict he could slip his way out of. All he could do was act, now, but he had given it thought. If he could keep it away from Sian and Ghris... [/blockquote]
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Ondine
Jr. Weyrleader
ondct[M:-155]
Posts: 436
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Post by Ondine on Jan 8, 2013 21:23:33 GMT -5
Very swiftly, Ondine had come to hate the level of fame that she had suddenly catapulted herself into. Suddenly, it seemed like everyone knew her name and her face. And everyone had an opinion about her, and the work that she had done. She had met people who were convinced she hadn't done enough, some who worshiped the ground she walked on, just about everything inbetween...and she was sick of that. She had liked the attention for the first day. Then it very swiftly went into awkward territory, and then into things that she didn't like. She couldn't get away from it all, and she swiftly wished that only the healers knew who she was.
Someone had even gifted her a flitter egg, which had swiftly hatched into a beautiful little yellow named Raio. That one, she could understand, because she had directly removed their white beads, and possibly saved the family from plague. But the rest...the rest was swiftly driving her nuts. She didn't want to be famous, she just wanted to go back to being the little-known healer. Things were so much better, easier, that way. She didn't have to worry about her image, didn't have to worry about having so many people know who she was before she saw them for the first time.
So she'd decided to hell with it, and was who she was. It certainly wasn't going to go to her head. She'd told everyone she worked with not to treat her with any kind of special privilege, but she'd have to see how that turned out. So she was here, working as hard as she possibly could at the hatching, and hoping that it was as uneventful as possible. Dilath was up near the roof, sniffing around for the scent of a fresh candidate that she'd been going on about for half a week now. How she knew that, and how she was able to smell him, was totally beyond anything that Ondine had experience with, but given her past performance, the Healer was a bit nervous.
Dilath was currently sniffing. She smelled him. A candidate, someone with the right mind and emotions. Someone who would be able to find his or her Dragonet on the sands. He was here, watching this hatching. She would just have to find him, and tell him that he was one of those who could spread their wings and fly! And then he would be so happy. Just wait until she found him, and told Ondine, because see, she was getting better, the whole time! Her eyes scanned the stands for the future candidate, looking, hoping.
She knew that all three of the people she had searched didn't want to come. Had other plans for their lives that she'd abruptly. And she knew that Kai disliked her intensely, but whether that was just because he seemed fairly grumpy or because she'd really torn him away from his life, she didn't know. She only had the vague sense that, sometime during the past half a Turn, something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
So she was on the sidelines, near the healer station, where any of the injured candidates would go. Already, she had spotted blood on the pink's claws, which didn't bode well. And as the hatching progressed, with Aysha smashing an egg and Iroh being flown upward by Unath (Q'sis was such a sharding asshole), that feeling just progressed. Maybe Aysha thought she was helping the dragonet inside, but she definitely was not helping. Ondine didn't know why the three she had Searched had decided to abandon groups and go into the center aisle of sorts, or why they kept looking at her, but it was evident that they didn't want to be in the regular group. Also, they had non-standard uniforms, which was an interesting choice. In another hatching, not the best idea, perhaps in another one it would be fine.
Aysha was spared Q'sis's wrath by abruptly impressing, which still left the problem of the egg that was now smashed. Which still hatched, which was when Ondine started to get even more worried than she already was. That was a King, and the look in his eyes didn't bode well for anyone at all. And then it was a horrifying rendition of the hatching where she had found Dilath, but this time, it was Sian being shredded instead of Rennin, with a Bronze instead of a Red.
Traditions served purposes. They codified knowledge that had been passed down for generations, so that people could be protected from the mistakes of the past. They also preserved discrimination in a form that no one could question, and enshrined ignorance as wisdom, until someone could come along, and see that the traditions of the past held no place in the future. But some traditions, like that of the similar clothing, perhaps still held some use today. Like not being amongst the eggs, to confuse them when they woke. Like keeping all of those but the Candidates on the sidelines.
And the Healer was no longer on the sidelines.
Ondine sprinted, discarding a rule that might kill someone's life, as she saw the man stand back up and throw a punch at the King. Perhaps Sian thought he was already dead. Perhaps he was discarding traditions of the Weyr. Perhaps he simply wanted to save a life. Whatever the reason, he was putting himself in more danger. No...not he...she. Ondine couldn't adjust her pace any more, but wished she could move faster. For whatever reason, Sian had chosen to hide her gender. And now that secret was out, as freely moving as her blood.
Ondine had brought her here. Ondine had torn her away from whatever life she had thought she would have, the point behind hiding her sex, and brought her to this place. Where she might just die at the hands of a Bronze. The new titles she had would be cruel irony if she damned those she searched to death.
This was all her fault, and if Sian died, she'd never forgive herself.
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Post by thyme on Jan 8, 2013 21:42:10 GMT -5
O’hu was not a man of many words so he simply smiled gratefully at M’iles when he gave him the go ahead to sit. The brown weyrling scarcely had a moment to admire the newly hatched green and pink before a girl sprinting towards one of the eggs. O’hu couldn’t figure out what she was doing as she knelt beside one of the biggest eggs of the clutch. Polyth had called out to him after he had already cracked his shell maybe the dragonet inside had called out to her before it even cracked its shell? He was distracted from the oddity by Unath snatching a girl straight from within the male candidates but then the tan stiffened and O’hu’s eyes flew back towards the red egg. He gasped in horror as the girl cracked the shell. He saw the tan rider sprinting towards the girl and he covered his eyes.
{She’s just helping him escape,} Polyth said comfortingly. {It’s not okay if he doesn’t ask for help!} O’hu replied still refusing to look at the Sands. {Everything is alright, O’hu, I promise…} The brown encouraged. O’hu uncovered his eyes just in time to see a bronze leap onto one of the candidates and viciously tear at him...no her…what? {POLYTH!} The boy yelled covering his eyes once more. {You said it was okay!?!} The brown sounded apologetic when he responded, {Well…it was okay before you looked.} {What happened to the other girl?} {She Impressed to that blue. She’s fine.}
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Nia
Sr. Weyrwoman
niact[M:-790]
Posts: 991
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Post by Nia on Jan 8, 2013 22:15:48 GMT -5
The voice of the mother Tan in her head made Vyna start, her heart already starting to pound uncomfortably. Respect us, all of you. Vyna swallowed nervously, smoothing down her hair and then shaking it out to put it back into a ponytail. Right. She needed to keep her hair out of her face, that was what her mother always said. If she wanted to keep her hair long, she had to tie it back or it'd get in the way all the time. She didn't want a dragon to see her hair and get angry, or something. Were they prone to doing that? The brunette honestly wasn't sure if they even cared about hair. Dragonets didn't have hair of their own, afterall....
She used her thoughts to try and keep her mind off of the imminent Hatching. Vyna didn't want to be too nervous about it. She was, but she didn't want to be. The girl clumsily put on her robes, tripping over herself a bit in her efforts. She was a bit too small for the robes she'd been given. Hefting up the edges, she ran out of her room and towards the Sands. Everyone else was going in the same direction, so hopefully she could make it there in a timely manner.
The girl was somewhat nervous at the sight of the male rider of the Tan holding the Pink dragonet, but she curtsied anyway. She scuttled away to the girl's line, not wanting to offend anyone or draw any attention to herself. Her nerves made her wish for her brother's hand to hold, but Nart was off in the boy's circle. She pouted a bit that he hadn't even bothered to come by her to go to the Sands together, but that didn't matter. She'd wanted him to leave her alone, hadn't she? Especially after that botched Touching attempt, where he'd pretty much just tagged along with her. But being alone in the girl's semi-circle was scary.
And it just got scarier. There were dragons all over the place, Hatching one after the other. She looked over in time to see her brother Impress, and rather than feel happy for him a jolt of fear shot through her. He'd Impressed before her. What if she didn't Impress at all, and got left behind? Vyna took in a shakey breath and made sure to clap for him. She decided to pay more attention to the actual Hatching itself, rather than her fears.
A good thing she had, because she then noticed a Candidate rush out from the girls to go smash open an egg herself. That caused another jolt of fear through Vyna, and she clutched her hands together. They'd been told not to do stuff like that. It seemed incredibly stupid and show-offy to Vyna. The dragons could get out of their own eggs. That was what they were supposed to do! And if they couldn't get out then clearly that strong male rider would help them out. It wasn't a job for the Candidates! But the girl ended up Impressing to a Blue that had spoken to everyone, another thing that scared Vyna. It didn't seem right. It was wrong and weird and scary.
Too much was happening all at once and it was making her head spin. Vyna stood in her place rather than try and back away, but she definitely wanted to. Another Candidate had run to the dragons this time, and Vyna wasn't even sure why. This girl seemed like even more of a dimglow than the last one. There wasn't even anything wrong with that dragon, what was this show-off trying to do?! But it seemed like she was dragged off, and Vyna smugly thought that was probably what the girl deserved for being stupid.
A Bronze had hatched and then mauled one of the boys, who suddenly seemed like he had girl-parts which only made Vyna more confused, but then there was a lot of blood and it made her want to run over and do something. She stopped herself from interfering however, as others had already gone to the girl to cover her wounds, including an actual Healer who Vyna recognized as being one of the ones who'd helped with the Plague. If anyone knew how to heal, it was that rider, so Vyna held back, wringing her hands together and wishing the Hatching would just be over already.
----
One of the first riders to arrive, as being on time was important, Avalle and Callistath both chose a spot high up in the Stands. For a moment, Avalle considered going to sit next to Z'an, but in the end she'd decided against it. It was fine to just sit by herself and talk to Callistath, especially since Hatchings did tend to make the two of them quite bitter. The behavior of Candidates in particular made the two of them angry, and this Hatching was no different. Well, it was quite different, actually. As intimidating as he tried to seem, Q'sis was not nearly as scary as an angry mother dragon. So with the two Tans and their blissful ignorance it made the Candidates quite bolder than normal.
Why do they always insist on doing things like that? Avalle commented to Callistath as Aysha ran out to the egg. Callistath was quite irritated by the girl's behavior, though she was perhaps even more irritated by the Tans and their inability to do anything about it. Well less inability, but more like they didn't want to. It also quite offended the Gold that they'd allowed the Candidates to touch their eggs as well, but that wasn't any of her business really. An unwarranted sense of self-importance, I suppose. They always think they are doing the right thing despite how many dragons and riders tell them it is not right, [/color] Callistath replied with an exasperated tone. Avalle silently agreed. But the girl who'd tried to break the struggling dragon out of its egg had Impressed, and even Q'sis couldn't do anything to her. Though soon after that girl Impressed, another wherry-brained idiot was walking forward to... do what, exactly? Talk to the dragonets? What in Faranth's name is WRONG with that girl? Avalle sent to Callistath as she watched the idiot try to "console" two newborn dragonets. They are lucky to Impress, Callistath said, watching as Anya Impressed to her Pink. Q'sis had definitely done his part to drag her away, though it was unnatural in a way that bothered her. The two girls would need a serious talking-to about their behavior, and Avalle would have to trust in their new Weyrlingmaster to do just that. She'd have to have a word with the Candidatemasters as well to find out exactly what in Faranth's name went wrong here. The Bronze that had broken out of the egg the girl attempted to smash seemed to be rampaging. He, unfortunately, didn't hit the two offending Weyrlings, but instead went after one of the boys, who was then soon revealed to be a girl. Avalle stood up to get herself a better look, and yep, definitely a girl. Ondine was headed down to the girl, thankfully. The Healer was good and would hopefully be able to save Sian, who deserved that mauling far less than some of the other Candidates... although she figured Q'sis would probably think otherwise, what with her ruse being revealed.[/blockquote][/size]
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twitchie
Wingrider
twict[M:-5]
"I'm not bossy; I just have better ideas."
Posts: 150
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Post by twitchie on Jan 8, 2013 22:55:14 GMT -5
Perith's midnight form snaked into a dive, coiling into a small space on a ledge. His hide was glossy, as was His's, cheeks and arms. The blue for once had forgotten his sense of perfection, too eager to wait to let His be tidy. He did manage to instruct Yrri (as best he could from what he'd seen) how to tie up the tuft of hair. Her hair was not really long enough to tie up and it wasn't short enough to hang properly. But rushed by her blue, and having a hearty oil gleam, Yrri wore her hair like this. And shardit, she resembled a female for once!
Upon landing on the ledge, Perith nearly went to the sands. He was sickened by such crazy... but the utter mess! Look at them! Blood..! Inchor...! Steady, Peri... Perith felt his wing muscles tense, and the flesh along his neck rippled with a low growl. Upon the fool smacking a bronze, a KING, the blue could not choke down a spurt of fury. His wings unsettled and snapped open without a second thought, not noticing how close Yrri was to being knock off into the sands. No! You cannot. His low rumble held a whine. No one cared! No one was kind... The world was mean! Bad trumped good! Did Yrri not see? But mine! No respect for a king! Where's the honor? The fools give candidates a bad name! I'd like to boop their noses! Bet they wouldn't like such a rude smacking!
But suddenly, Yrri fit the pieces together. It's the King. The girl is trying to distract him... He'll kill someone! I'd be shardin' furious too had my nose been smacked![/color] "Stop. Do not speak again until you watch. Clear your mind, right now or I'll smack your nose and make you focus!" Perith snapped his jaws but resentfully watched quietly.
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Post by bailiwick on Jan 8, 2013 22:56:17 GMT -5
He didn't remember even seeing all of the bronze's hatching - he just remembered its large body being very close to the candidates all of a sudden, its legs bringing it over faster than all the others. Then, it was on top of Sian in an instant, like a true predator, reminding the entirety of those gathered the power and fury of a dragon newly hatched. He didn't move. He froze. His mind blanked as it tore open his robe and slashed his dressings, freeing...what appeared to be....oh. OH! - but everything was covered in blood a second later in a blurry mess. It was all too fast---in a blink, the bronze rampaged itself in a glittering golden sheen of red and leather in directionless rage. Hakotep went over like a pin under a bowling ball - topped down next to him with the bronze's mouth agape. Fire exploded in his chest - a white, hot, blazing thing that made him act without any thought whatsoever. The dragon's snout popped up for a moment as Sian's fist connected, and Ghris' flung his arms around the neck of the bronze and pulled with his entire body backwards as one might pull away an unruly, frightened calf. Anything to get those claws and maw away from Hakotep, the only thing he had in his life besides a bug. This king would not mar the face, nor any other part, of the boy he had come to...well. Become very fond of. He didn't intend to hurt the dragonet, far from it, but only wrestle it away with every ounce of strength he had in his body. The chaos surrounding them was astounding - but Ghris was focused as a Herder does onto the problem at hand.
I am afraid---, he tried to reach out to it, but the thundering noise around him, the rushing of bodies towards the problem, the mental yelling of indignant and upset dragons from the stands ricochet around the entirety of the Sands mentally, too, adding noise and confusion.
He didn't seem to take into consideration his own safety - that, in the throws of his passion, seemed utterly irrelevant. He had seen beasts kick herders and trample them in a fashion that was more traumatic, and for all the fuss and bother everyone was throwing you'd think Sian had earned a death sentence - which, by the way she was so quick to strike a baby dragon she clearly hadn't. How could you strike a newborn? It was an oversized calf... albeit with pointy parts - a confused, terrible force of nature. But it wouldn't take his friend's face off, that he had to make sure of, but there was no need to injure it to do so!
What if it didn't Impress? A Bronze was a treasured thing - and the current situation was quickly devolving.
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266
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Post by Lan on Jan 9, 2013 0:40:40 GMT -5
It was all happening way too fast. One moment Kaihekoa was holding the hand of his friend and the next she was yanked from him by the claws of the clutchmother. He was dumbstruck, watching as Irohvyne was lifted into the air unceremoniously... and then he grew angry. His pale face grew red and his hands clenched into painful fists. Sure, he and Sian had been out of order, but to do insult to the innocent daughter of a Holder? To possibly cause injury to his friend? This was completely out of line. The woodcrafter felt himself bending, his sense of duty fading behind the red of ire as he was close to breaking. "Put her down!" He growled, out of line and not the least bit caring about it. "She didn't do anything... If it's me you want then shardin' take me!" But his calls would be destined to go unheard and unanswered. The insane girl Impressed and Q'sis directed his attention to her, leaving Kai fuming where he stood. This Weyr was insane, he decided. He felt bad for the dragons here--these people were just bad eggs.
Nimara recalled Enyo, as Aysha had Impressed and was now out of her hands, but inside she was still fuming. This would never happen again. If she had to let a little of Waroth's fury leak through, it would never happen again. The woman standing in the Stands, it seemed, had changed completely almost in an instant. There was darkness in her that threatened to crush the light that had once inhabited. She was furious. She was angry. Her small form, redheaded and red-cheeked, channeled Waroth far better than it had ever done without the effects of Flight upon her. Enyo returned to her and took a place on her shoulder and she gave the green the lightest of pats. "This will never happen again," she assured Jasmine, the intensity of her voice not wavering despite the fact that the danger had passed in this instance. Overall, however, the disaster was ongoing. She watched what Unath was doing to a seemingly innocent candidate with fire in her eyes. This was wrong. This was all wrong.
On her ledge Waroth awoke, her mind closer to her bondmate than she had been for many, many sevendays. It was invigorating. It made her feel alive. She stretched her wings, drawing a deep breath and letting loose a low growl. No longer would they be separate. Together again, she was just as happy about the merging of their minds as she was enraged about the wrong-doings she read from Nimara's experiences. A roar escaped her, although it was nothing that could swamp the chaos that was occurring below in the hatching sands. Every muscle stretched and tensed, bulging like a wher's beneath her deep scarlet hide. This was the start of something new. She crouched low, preparing to leave her ledge and dive down to the Bowl beneath. Nimara slowed her descent, though. We will deal with them later, when a rumble of protest came Nimara grit her teeth and added, Couineth and Callistath are here now. We will deal with them all later.
She knew what they thought of her. She knew they were all blaming her for what was going on. Frankly, though, she didn't care about all that. All she cared about was keeping her candidates and the hatchlings of the Weyr safe. If her previous teaching style hadn't gotten that across, well... maybe they required a bit tougher of love. Rayna's approach was greeted with a curt nod. "I assure you, Weyrwoman," she began, glancing over at the goldrider and speaking in a tone of dark confidence she had never used with a superior before, "When the information is handy it will be provided to you."
By this time Waroth had made an entrance to the sands, although she circled up to a ledge up by the dragons and bid her time as her rider had requested. Her eyes were whirling orange, though, and her ire could not be mistaken. Nimara noticed her approach, but did nothing. She was sure the red dragoness would mind her manners for now. Waroth would not be out of her management again. Nothing would. Never again. Besides, the red's presence might be of use to keep the more unruly attendees in line. Nothing kept people in check like a drooling red breathing down their neck.
Of course, a red's presence was only as good as her visibility. Kaihekoa was not looking up into the Stands, though. His full attention was on the chaos around him. Iroh had been taken from him and now Sian was weaving his way away, already out of Kai's reach to stop him. He grumbled loudly, unable to contain silently his emotions about this any longer. He was unable to protect Iroh from the grasp of an dragon guided by an unruly man. He was unable to follow Sian and make sure the shorter man didn't do anything stupid. Kai was useless. His actions were futile. For a moment he almost longed for death to take him.
But he wised up. As soon as Irohvyne was dropped he ran to her side, ignoring any calls or hands that would force him to go back. To between with Q'sis. To between with them all. He'd rather die than had been brought here. He'd rather he and his entire family be taken by plague than to have set foot in this wretched place. But one thing was certain: he would not let anything keep him from his friends. They were his and not Q'sis' playthings. I hope you rot, the thought was shouted in his mind, directed at the person who exemplified his loathing. Yet, before he could get to Iroh, something far more sinister caught his attention. There was a scream. A horrible, terrifying scream. He turned to see Sian bloody and mauled, a bronze dragonet to blame... and he cried out in unbridled agony. "NO!" The baritone shout tore through the crowd, as if he had willed it to be louder than the chaos that surrounded him.
In that moment the last shred of dignity and hope in Kaihekoa broke into a thousand little pieces.
He bolted only after Iroh was almost to Sian, ignoring everything else in his attempts to get to his friend. The sight of bloody, tattered fabric produced a painful lump in his throat that only served to swell his anger to new heights. No, no, no... this couldn't be happening. Sian's actions that showed he was still alive did little to sway Kai's worries. Only... there was a problem... He could tell it on Iroh's face. Something was more wrong than he thought and, as he got closer, he began to realize. He stopped dead near Kurosaki, his heart almost skipping a beat. Then his head turned to the boy next to him, as if looking for some confirmation. The look on his face said it all, though. With a renewed scowl of hatred, Kai barked at the boy imperiously, "You'll avert your eyes... or I'll remove them for you."
Hanei had been happy and cheerful to see her dad and to attend a hatching that she thought would remind her of the warm fuzzy feelings of attending her first. However, what she was witnessing was a nightmare. She scooted closer to P'ryt, her small hands encircling his arm and gripping it tighter and tighter with each terrible thing that happened. This was awful. This was wrong. How could this be allowed to happen? "Dad..." she gasped, righteous fury building up inside of her. She thought Dalibor would be a place of progress, not of... whatever this was! For a brief instant she looked up at her father's face, then back down to the sands with a disappointed scowl. When she was a rider she would do her best to try to fix all this brokenness! Hopefully, now that her father was a Wingleader too (she was so proud of him) he would be able to help as well.
Noveth sobered up a bit with Hemetath's chastising. Her, not change? It was an accusation that hurt her to her very core. She always changed! It was everyone else that stayed the same! Wasn't it? However, as the chaos below raged on she was overwhelmed with the emotions spilling forth from her rider. They rocked her like a boat in a sea of storms and she road through it not entirely unscathed. We will change this, HaneiMine, she told her rider, the emotion in her mindvoice not at all as diminished as the turbulence that Hanei herself felt. Yes, we will. We will help them all, one person at a time. Although it was a historic moment, this agreement between rider and dragon, there was no time to savor it. Hanei and Noveth watched together with increasing horror. Something must be done about this. Something would be done about this.
Ondine, the Savior of Pern, was sprinting out onto the sands as well and Kaihekoa, disregarding whatever so-called clever retort Kurosaki might be able to conjure up, ran over to intercept her and to intercept Sian. Sian couldn't die. She wouldn't die. Kaihekoa wouldn't let her. Whatever it took, he'd keep his friend alive. The implications of the revelation hadn't hit him yet, so intent he was on getting this madness to stop. He quickly moved between Iroh and Sian, his strong arms moving under Sian's armpits and around her shoulders to manhandle her away from the bronze. When Ondine finally caught up with them, he growled at her with a dark intensity, "Fix him." He didn't bother to correct his slip of pronoun. It didn't matter in this moment. His friend was hurt and, by the bloody First Egg, SOMEONE was going to help them all!
Nimara, meanwhile, had quite enough. Dragonets doing damage was bad enough without the clutchmother's rider causing his own chaos. She drew herself up, looking at the Weyrwomen for answers. They gave none. In fact, they showed no signs of moving at all. Irritated and angry, she turned to the expanse of Waroth's rage-ridden mind and opened the red up to allow her angry glory to show. The orange in the dragoness' eyes turned to red and she projected to all in attendance. THAT IS ENOUGH! To Q'sis in particular, she added, Harm one more of my candidates and I will END you... and I don't care what I have to go through to do it.
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Jan 9, 2013 0:57:46 GMT -5
Sian was snatched from the jaws of death first by Hakotep himself, who insinuated a heroic arm between the bleeding girl and her target. Her eyes met his, for a moment, dark and wide, and she accepted it. Sort of. He was a good man. It did mean that any retaliation for her dominance-establishing punch would fall on him, and not on her.
Iroh was still behind her, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. Somewhere, Sian registered pain, but the adrenaline and emotion drove her past all that. Then a hand slipped over something nobody had ever touched, and Sian recoiled almost violently, tearing herself away from those grasping, healing hands. A sheet fluttered into the back of her neck, and she flinched again, stumbling to try to get away. Then, of course, Kai had to go and grab her and drag her away from a bronze who had to be as mad as a hornet by now.
Well, he managed it for awhile, until Sian broke his nose. She didn't mean to, okay? She loved Kai, he was her best friend. But for obvious reasons, she was not used to being touched with affection or good intent. Pretty much the only people who got this close were trying to punch her in return, and the way he caught at her - a familiar hold thanks to her nights at Fight Club - pushed her into panic mode. Her head jerked back, and she heard the sickening crunch; it at least gave her the opportunity to twist away like a snake, expert at escape.
Obviously, this was when pain happened.
Sian hit the sands on tortured knees for the second time, and her arms wrapped around her abdomen. The sheet, so thoughtfully donated, settled around her shoulders and mercifully shielded her from view as she tried to keep the blood inside. She'd been stabbed before, but never rended. The furious gashes adorned her right shoulder, yanked down across her breasts and belly, deep and ragged. Only barely had she avoided losing an organ or two. Perhaps her breast-bindings had saved her, there, extra protection that the flimsy, destroyed Candidate robes could never provide.
She couldn't touch it all, she couldn't make it stop. Every tiny movement blazed. Her legs were burning in the sand, and she let out a harsh, broken sob. Everything, gone. Her future, shattered. Her friends were operating somewhere distant; as soon as they came back to Pern and realised the depth of her deception, they would turn on her too.
Sian let Ondine get close enough, and then a bloodied hand caught the collar of her tunic. "Hakotep," she spat, and with the little strength she had left, she threw Ondine in the general direction of the bronze and whatever gory horror he'd managed to wreak in the days-months-seconds since Kai had rescued her from that scene.
She needed to get off the sands; that was all she could think, near-mindless with agony. She had to get off the sands and then everything would be okay. Her legs were fine; she wasn't Rennin. The same bloody hand, her left, captured Iroh's elbow; the sheet fell away, but she couldn't possibly care less about her brand right now. This pain was not as unimaginable as that, but these scars were rather more pressing, and her blunted nails dug into Iroh's skin as she used her friend to rise up.
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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 Jan 9, 2013 1:15:25 GMT -5
The world was falling away into chaos, and it seemed like everyone was bent on fighting against the Bronze, which ignited a fire in her breast—fight back ye slaves, fight against the masters that hold you, fight for your lives because they will take it from you as surely as they took you from your homes. Only turns of study kept her from snarling, she felt like a beast in those moments, possessive and territorial. Then they were there—the savior of Pern, and Kai, and Kai had choice words for the rude Candidate Irohvyne hadn’t even spared a thought for. When Sian was pulled from her grasp she backed away, casting a cold calculating look at Kurosaki to ensure he had done as he was bidden—lest she need to finish Kaihekoa’s threat on her own—but when a wet crack alerted the Holderwoman that something had gone amiss, she turned away from the monster and his prey, from the rude boy, and to her friend who had crumpled onto the sands a mess of blood, rent flesh, and fear.
Sian’s throw of Ondine effectively threw the Healer into Iroh, and with disgust she pushed the Pinkrider beyond her: There were others here who could tend to Sian once he—she—let them, and Iroh wouldn’t have wanted that girl’s hands on her body anyroad. The bite of the hot sands beneath her feet was long forgotten, but her legs screamed in agony at the sight of Sian collapsed on the sands, and she moved forward where another might have moved back, her tongue clucking softly in her parched mouth. Sian locked onto her the moment she drew close, and her only encouragement was a commanding, ”up, my champion,”, and her gentle hands assuring that the gifted sheet was well and truly covering the body of her mangled friend. She knew, however, in her heart, that there was a promise she had made that would soon be broken—the flashes of devastation beneath the cloth were far beyond her capabilities as a terrible seamstress.
To the Healers then.
Not the one that had ruined them. Had ruined her Steward, had ruined her chances. Iroh levered the smaller woman’s slender arm above her shoulders and let her lean as she could for support, hoping to avoid damaging her further, her free hand she extended to Kaihekoa: His swelling face, and the tears he shed from pain, possibly of all sorts, shattered her heart, but she remained strong. ”Come, we are going,” and as was the case when she finally chose to speak, there was no question of an alternative. Her eyes swept the Candidates who remained, the whole useless lot of them besides the boy who had done his best to protect Sian—Hakotep—and impish Varkyr, challenging them to give her any reason why Standing and dying was better than going and living. She did not anticipate one would be offered.
It was a dragon who answered her quest for a reply, Waroth, her Candidatemaster, and the irony of her words would have brought a bitter smirk to Iroh's face if she was any other woman. Who among this lot could disagree with the protective Red? If even she grew weary of the Tanrider's transgressions, then surely there would be others logical enough to see the idiocy in remaining. Ah, but Irohvyne expected too much of these folk, these men and women who sought dragonbond as the meaning of their lives: Death, for them, was an acceptable price to pay for the opportunity to be bound and bred as a pet to a monster.
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Boo
Jr. Weyrwoman
booct[M:-425]
Shirath: THOSE aren't spirit fingers... THESE ARE SPIRIT FINGERS!!!
Posts: 1,917
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Post by Boo on Jan 9, 2013 1:30:31 GMT -5
Things where chaotic and for a while, Tedaon just stood there wide eyed and watching wondering what they were teaching kids these days. He had very little to do with the dragon riders now barring when they came to him for healing help so he honestly didn't know whether or even what they were teaching in lessons these days. Then again, traditions may have changed since he had been Weyrlingmaster. However he was almost certain that smashing eggs was not the best idea. He knew that at one of the other hatchings, the one with Polyth, the candidate had broken the egg for the dragonet but that brown would have passed if it had not been for O'hu's swift actions. Certainly, it was not a usual course of action to smash an unbroken egg.
For a short while, all he had to worry about was Q'sis himself who had managed to get scratched by a couple of dragonets. He'd not seen the boy since he had been injured and come for a check up... On occasion other times but generally very few other time outside of healing. Eyes glazed over for a moment out of rage when the tan lifted a candidate out of the line for he was not certain that this was an entirely draconic action. Perhaps there was some influence from the rider...
Shortly after Q'sis received another scratch and a bronze ran onto the sands, tearing a boy, no girl apart. Seemed strange that a girl would want to bind herself in that way but whatever floated their dragon boat he supposed. He walked onto the sands just as the apprentice saviour did and threw his jacket at the girl who was now practically naked, knowing that Ondine would care for her and if he needed to help he would. Supplies were also thrust at the apprentice as he threw them out to injured candidates like a gift horse. Might as well have now that he was down here. Still he moved to Q'sis. "Here."
He pressed a bandage to the man's arm without consent prepared to fight and hold him down if he had to. They would not have the tan mother between because of the rider's stubbornness. He then looked at Q'sis's leg and started also trying to stop the flow of blood there. He then looked back at the candidates and noticed with dissatisfaction that they seemed to ignore Ondine. She was an apprentice but she was a sharding good healer what in the shells did they think they were doing? Moreover, another person had managed to hand her a sheet which he had not noticed in his haste and thus his jacket lay in the sands. When Waroth shouted at them, he swayed slightly heart wrenched tight in his chest and the man gasped for air. The injured stump of his hand resting in the sand as he paused in his work. Always. It took him a moment to compose himself and then he continued working.
Chaos. For the first time since coming to the Weyr, Ezzia was a little frightened. At first she had held herself high (almost snarling back at the pink) and when the trio of troublemakers came in and made a fuss of standing in the middle she had glared. No one should be in the middle except her yet she wasn't stupid. She listened in classes even if she didn't in chores and knew you had to stand still. No approaching the eggs and all that so it baffled her some when someone did approach the eggs. Ever so slightly, she stepped forward out of the line so she was more prominent.
Ah hah, there was her gold. That one that had hatched from the large egg and was now eating candidates. As frightening as it was, Requezzia knew that gold was for her and drew herself up taller looking imperiously around her. All these people didn't even know what was in store for any of them.
Ok so one of the boys in the middle was actually a girl. Who would even want to be a boy? Come on, seriously? The blood made Ezzia sway slightly but she averted her gaze to the only two candidates she knew. "Hakotep! Ghris!"
The outburst was surprising even to her but he had reminded her of home whenever she saw him and it spurred her to stay in times of difficulty because she didn't want to go back to that life. Well, that and she did kind of care about him. A little. Same with Ghris. It was then that she realised the dragonet was a bronze and she tensed. Should be approach and help? Deciding that he wanted to preserve her beauty, she remained, hugging her arms around herself some of her superior posture disappearing.
At the red's call, she clapped her hands over her ears for a moment until the shout ended.
[/blockquote]
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kireon
Candidatemaster
kirct[M:-191]
Posts: 739
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Post by kireon on Jan 9, 2013 3:20:59 GMT -5
Kaedorin was getting restless. There were still so many eggs left to go, and he'd rather be sitting comfortably, trying to pick out some sort of melody on his guitar that'd come somewhat close to a hatching hum these dragons did. Could no one else see the potential being wasted? Did Dalibor even have a collection of fine eared Harpers around, or was he the first one? He started tapping a beat against his thigh, listening to the sound of dragons as he tried to work some sort of sense, some kind of rhythm into his fingers to channel what he heard into something he could use.
Unfortunately, that wound up right out the proverbial window as one of his fellow Candidates decided she was more impatient than he was, and began smashing eggs to try and get their occupants out. "...'ey, that's not how it goes," he called out to her, tensing to go haul her physically away before she got herself killed, or worse, one of the dragonets killed as a result.
And then she Impressed, by that little blue. Well, alrighty then, he supposed that worked, sorta. He'd have to help discourage any behavior like that in the future. Write a song about how someone's eagerness killed their partner and how nature should be left to be as it would, sad as it might be.
That Q'sis guy was a big dude, and he didn't even want to consider taking him on in any kind of fight. Kaedorin paused, brown eyes lighting with interest as a green something decided to... claw him for no reason. Well, that was amusing, look at her spirit. He watched the plump green trott, looking rather well balanced despite being such a new addition to the world- and grinned as she fell to her side and began grooming her toes.
Feline. That's what she reminded him of. One of those felines more inclined to lie there and look at a person, expecting a belly rub before the unsuspecting individual would find themselves in the Healer's Hall explaining why he looked like he'd gotten into a tug of war contest with a couple of newly hatched wherets.
Come get me Kae'n,And suddenly, an alien presence slipped sinuously around his thoughts, his brain and locked herself quite neatly into place around his heart and soul. If you feed Toonooth, she will love you forever.[/color] The rainbows in her eyes were for him, the dragon was his. She remained there, stretched out in all of her green shaded glory, with her half-lidded eyes still yellow, now that the rainbows passed.
Kae'n, he was no longer Kaedorin. He was Kae'n. A grin crossed his features, a whoop exploding from his lungs as he danced across the sands to go greet his dragon. He'd get his song after all, and he'd have many to write about her as well, his Toonooth. He approached, a wink at Anya. "S'cuse me, pretty lady, but I've come to collect my little lady."
Toonooth lazily slunk to her feet, giving the giddy Kae'n a disdainful slap across the shins with her tail and a baleful glare over her shoulder. Anya was given a hiss, complete with baby fangs bared over delicately raised lips, in response before the dragonet quite literally sniffed and turned her head away, blunt snout pointed high into the air. Don't get so full of yourself, Kae'n, you are mine because I choose you to be. I am most certainly not yours, do remember this and come along. I suppose someone has to teach you how to care for me properly.[/i] She stalked the sands, each step purposefully and well placed as she betrayed herself, only a little, to ensure that Kae'n wasn't lingering behind to flirt when he had much, much more important things to be doing.
And then, just as they reached the feeding grounds, all kinds of insanity broke loose in the form of a massive bronze going on rampage. "Oh man," Kae'n managed, feeling rather dumb as a result, and found himself knocked against the wall closest to the feeding areas.
Toonooth glowered at him once, and returned to neatly picking and choosing her way out of a bucket of food she deemed acceptable to her taste. Her body, small as it was though sufficiently padded, was pointedly placed between Kae'n and the rest of the sands. Anyone who would try to come at him would go quite literally through her.
And she still wished to sharpen her talons on a couple of softer things to ensure they were properly formed.
**
When had their candidates decided to rebel? That was what Yuri wondered as he edged, meeting the Healers and giving a worried glance towards the newly Impressed. That made two of them who'd deliberately gone out of their way to flaunt the rules. Were they trying to make a point? Did they genuinely believe such things were acceptable? I think... we will need to have a meeting, to discuss whether or not Touchings will be allowed again. The former farmer wondered, tense and unhappy. A glance back to Nimara and Jazz on the stands confirmed his suspicions; one was furious, the other attempting to resolve the situation and diffuse it as peacefully as possible.
His own heart lay somewhere in the middle of things.
And then the Bronze emerged. "Shard it," there might be casualties yet this night. His shock, preparation to aid the Healers in getting the injured off the sands and into the set up temporarily forgotten as things rather fell apart neatly before him.
Yusk's head rose sharply, scenting tension, anxiety and rose to her feet, snuffling it out until Shino was located. Shino! LittleFriend! ShinoPets![/i] she gurgled happily, right as a jolt of raw distress rocked through her from her handler. Eyes whirrling red again, her lamp-like eyes jerked towards where she'd seen hers go- and borrowed his eyes to see the massive bronze.
Bad angry. LittleFriend protect. Yusk promptly folded her legs beneath her, body blocking Shino's view as she practically threw herself into the small girl's lap, ignoring Peixes completely as one large eyed, dainty head tried to make itself fill Shino's vision. Be pet? YuskGuardWher. BestGuard be Yusk. LittleSafe, be pet now, yes?[/i]
Her man was stronger, but she was gentler and would protect the young. Shino was a Young, and so she would be a good guard wher.
Sian was savaged, and during it, there was something rather unexpected. His candidate was female. Biologically female, at the very least. How in Faranth's name had she managed to get one over on them all?
Shock changed to anger and then to a burning rage that hazed his vision for a handful of seconds before Ondine's familiar face streaked past, heading directly into the danger zone as only a Healer would do. Well, Healers and natural born protectors. Betrayal, he shouldn't be feeling like his candidate's distinct lack of trust was one, but it was. It meant he had failed in his duties in more ways than one.
As a result, Yuri's attention only momentarily flicked to Nimara, and the arrival of Waroth, before it refocused on the one duty he as Candidatemaster could think of; reestablish order amongst the Candidates and the Hatching. Which, in this case, meant that he needed to get Ondine and Sian, at the very least, out of harm's way and ensure things would go smoothly from there.
And suddenly, he was there beside the candidates, injured and uninjured alike. His eyes, near black with emotion, turned to the two friends who'd been essentially inseperable from the young woman's side from the moment they'd arrived to Dalibor itself. "Kaihekoa, Irohvyne; I will not force you to Stand, but you will follow orders or be physically removed from the premise. Allow the Healers, all of them to do their duties and stay out of the way."
The anger out into the open and his stance on the matter of the hatching revealed, there was a softening of the bulky man's features. "Let's get," the briefest of pauses as Yuri tried to figure out exactly how to address his candidate. It didn't matter, he decided. An individual's worth was decided by themselves and only themselves, gender, to his mind, had nothing to do with it. "Sian, out as quickly as possible." And then to the young woman herself. "Sian, Kaihekoa and Irohvyne are here to help; we are going to lift and carry you to get there faster. You are only surrounded by friends and those who wish to help."
The need to bathe in solitude only clicked at that moment. Kaihekoa hadn't know, and that would be the lad's saving grace should Nimara and Jazz feel the need to exact punishments. There were a handful of things he could think of, that jumped to his mind, that would cause someone to disguise themselves so thoroughly- coupled with her reaction to being hauled away from the scene only seemed to cement the horror tale that was forming in Yuri's mind on how she must have grown up.
And yet, while the rest of him wished to cry on her behalf, the fury fanned the flames all the more. If someone in Dalibor Weyr had been the cause, there would be a confrontation. He may not like the physical aspects and aggressive combat parts of being a handler or a rider, but he knew the rules and he knew them well. He would challenge and give a well deserved black eye in his Candidate's honor.
"Irohvyne, I would like you by Sian's head and torso to support that, if you need assistance or the weight becomes too much, let me or Kaihekoa know immediately. Kaihekoa, I need you to support the midsection; the hips and torso, primarily, though Irohvyne will be taking half of that. I want her as level as we can get her to prevent aggravating the injuries." His eyes flicked to Sian again as he prepared to get into place to do his part. "Sian, this is your Candidatemaster; your friends and I are going to carry you, I need you to lie still and trust them to help you. If possible, I would like you to trust me this once."
Should this go according to plan, all Sian will see is Kaihekoa and Irohvyne, paying only little attention to me. Hopefully seeing her friends would help reassure her that things would be okay. "One, two, lift!" He would not allow this candidate to die, and neither would the healers.
**
Willow was going to give herself a case of whiplash at this rate, her head kept jerking one way, and then another, looking frantically to try and keep track of everything going on- and then the bronze attacked. One of their own went down, shredded- and her shock, puzzlement at Sian being a girl like herself hit her all at once. Some part of her was disappointed, because she'd had an encounter or two with the, um, young woman and had quite found her empowering and had thought she'd developed a bit of a crush on her- although it could have been just the kind of admiration one developed when introduced to someone who was cool and such.
Oh dear, she was losing herself rather quickly, and she didn't know how to treat anything other than minor bumps, bruises and scraps- and sicknesses. She watched helplessly, hands clasped tightly against her chest as one of the Candidatemasters stormed on to the sands and began discussing something with the other two who were always with Sian. Irohvayne and, oh what was his name... Kaihekoa? She thought that was it. They were the coolest of the Candidates that she'd seen, and they were always together, and she'd envied such a bond.
And then there was Waroth's bellow, and something in Willow's legs decided that was quite simply enough for one day. With a low cry, the black haired girl dropped to the hot sands, flinching at the blistering heat, but couldn't find the strength to make her numb legs move again. Please, she closed her eyes tightly, unable to bear the thought of seeing that bronze kill or maim someone so severely again. please don't kill anyone, please find your person, or have your person find you. Please, someone do something...
**
A girl?
Durian leaned forward with an ear to ear grin on her face at the shock on everyone else's face. Well, she'd be damned and staked out for Thread at dawn- someone'd gone and pulled off a ruse much like the one she'd done for a good majority of her life until her Impression. A low, appreciative whistle slipped out as someone took action to cover the girl to give her a degree of modesty, though with the blood flooding it, it wouldn't hide much for long.
Her eyes slid towards the bronze currently wrecking havoc, and the Candidate who'd decided to intervene. Quite the spirited class, that one, she felt sorry for their Weyrlingmaster, whoever they wound up with. She felt about equally as sorry for whoever wound up with that beast of a bronze- worst than most of the Reds on the sands she'd seen, or, at least, he was certainly on his way to being ranked up there with the worst of the notoriously evil tempered dragons.
Mesreath growled low, rumbling the stone as his eyes flashed red. Waroth was there. Waroth was pointedly as displeased as he was, and as others were- like the Iron, Akanith. His lips curled off his fangs, exposing them in displeasure. Someone else would bleed that night, and if any dragon went even close to Durian's direction, there'd be a missing piece to their partner.
Once that candidate was taken care of and settled back in, Durian made a note to go pay Sian a visit, have a little chat with a girl she had the feeling she had more in common with than she thought. If anything, she could trade tips and tricks with her.
**
Everything fell apart in a heartbeat.
Candidatemasters giving orders, one heading for the sands to take care of that petulant brat who never should have Impressed with that kind of lack of self-control. Rage built within him, warring magnificently with anxiety and he gripped the stone hard enough his knuckles paled and his hands ached. Keep to the plan, he muttered to himself, watching Sian like a dragon would their prey and never letting her out of his sight, don't draw unnecessary attention to yourself and just-
It failed, spectacularly and the scarlet ribbons, the flash of chest and the ruin that was made of his already scarred sibling burned itself into his eyes. Every muscle within him froze solid, breath caught in his lungs and throat and everything just stopped. He'd gone Between, that had to be the explanation for the absolutely nothingness he could feel at the moment. The bone in his leg seemed to disappear, and his hands tightened impossibly further to keep himself upright as two others, the ones who'd been standing with Sian the entire time, immediately tried to aid him.
"YOU SHARDING DIMGLOW, DON'T SMACK THE THING THAT SAVAGED YOU AFTER IT TURNS ON SOMEONE ELSE! GET OUT OF THERE, SIAN, IT'S YOU OR THEM!" Raxeris exploded, screaming at her to the point his throat felt raw. What was she doing? They'd discussed this, shard it! They knew this possibility was there, so why was she-
Oh. She'd better not or Faranth help her when he got his hands on her- and when his mother got wind of this, to say nothing of anything else he couldn't exactly think of right now- but it would be bad.
He gave not a flip about the events that would happen next, Sian would be stabilized and moved to the infirmary- but he'd be there at her side the entire way. He'd stay at her bedside until she woke up, and then until she woke up again after he chewed her out so thoroughly she'd pass out from it all.
And suddenly, Raxeris found the bones in his legs again, shoving hard enough away from the stone ledge that he overshot his intention and hit the ground hard enough it sent a sharp jab of pain up his tailbone and back straight to his head. Swearing under his breath, the Igen Holdborn headed as fast as his legs could carry him. You stupid, bull headed, stubborn, irresponsible, incorrigable, arrogant, ill tempered, headstrong, overprotective, self-sacrificing... don't you dare die. Don't you dare leave me, leave all of us behind.
A pale pink head whirrling with delighted blue eyes blocked his path, staring him down with eyes about half as big as he was alone. A voice broke into his mind, gleeful and triumphant, as if a heavily anticipated goal had been accomplished when it'd been out of reach after so long. I found you![/i] The pink declared, confirming it was, indeed, himself that she was referring to.
"Are you sharding kidding me?" Disbelief, anger clouded the bellow. Forget this sense of decorum, this whole need to impress others and ensure that his hold was still safely set aside from the likes of Dalibor's admittedly impressive attempts at establishing a respectable name for themselves. Forget manners, to Between with proper, polite conversation and being a cordial gentlemen.
His sister probably halfway to bleeding out on the sands and this dragon had up and decided now was the appropriate time to bloody well Search him.[/size]
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Rii
Wingleader
riict[M:420]
RP demon hungers...
Posts: 803
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Post by Rii on Jan 9, 2013 10:18:41 GMT -5
Chaos.
That was what this was: utter chaos. Varkyr would have agreed with many of the other thoughts here if he'd only been able to hear them, but he couldn't; instead, he was bound to watch as the bronze that tore from the broken egg struck out in rage and fear, attacking Sian, and-
Wait, he's a girl? She's a girl? I'm so confused-
-Onto another boy - Hakotep, he thought was the name, grumpy but trying to protect the others, even Sian who struck the bronze, another boy who looked like he'd like to, Iroh who looked prepared to throw herself bodily atop the hatchling, Don't Iroh, you'll be hurt, so many people shouldn't be hurt-
Dragons broadcasting their thoughts at the Candidates, trying to direct them into more restrained behavior, These things would never have happened at Ista, why did I leave?-
A sheet had dropped from somewhere, and he thought he'd caught a glimpse of Naraevhyn's firelizards, ones he'd handled in the dining hall, in the midst of this chaos it felt like Turns ago. Covering was good. At least someone had thought of it, but they needed Healers, needed to get off the Sands-
Healers on the sands, finally, Ondine of course, but they didn't [/i]like[/i] Ondine, who had Searched them, Why did they come if they didn't want to? Dad said they didn't have to-
Iroh's eyes were on him while the bigger woman's arm supported her friend, the boy - girl - who had been so gruff with him. Iroh's eyes were challenging, accusatory, bitterly condemning. Condemning the Hatching, the Weyr. She hates it, he decided miserably. Nothing anyone will say will ever change that now. She hates it, and probably hates me for supporting it, and she'll -never- listen to what I have to say, because she's determined that only her opinion matters.
He met her eyes in that abject misery of being certain he'd lost a friend. None of the bright-eyed cheer that usually defined him, he was trying to blink back the tears that wanted to gather in his eyes - No, I'm not a lil kid anymore, I don't cry - and mouthed two words at her. Two words that were never enough, but they were all he could say.
I'm sorry.
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Post by kein on Jan 9, 2013 13:26:29 GMT -5
The screams, the warnings, everything went to deaf ears because of Aysha's determination. To Between with protocols, traditions, rules, stupid rules! This was her life, this was her destiny! That's what she thought, selfishly enough, not caring about anything else. That was simply how she had been raised, to only look out for herself, to disregard anything that wasn't surviving. So she tried to help, help herself as she helped the dragonet hatch. Except that she was interrupted. Not by the various screams and the chaos around her she had partially caused herself, but by the mental greeting, an all-too friendly greeting to someone like her. It was enough to stop her from hitting the egg again, when she turned to the Blue in front of her.
What say you and I find a more comfortable spot, yes? I am Altaith, my love, and I am yours.
For once she stopped and listened, distracted from her thoughts and actions. "...Altaith, Ah-I..." and she actually stuttered a bit, which was very unlike her. Confidence was what she was made of, whether or not she was right or wrong about what she was saying or doing. But now... Destiny indeed came calling, and she did not know, at first, at all what to answer, despite being so certain before. There really was no preparing to something like this. "Altaith, I did not..." She lowered her hand, previously caught in mid-air in the middle of the smashing. Then Q'sis, that bastard, arrived, and the Blue kept talking. She ignored the human.
Love. He called her love. That was absurd enough to shake her back to reality despite the confusion. Best to leave now I think. My love. This crowd has become pressing. I am your servant of course. Your window. But, quickly! "I... you must be hungry." She got up, finally leaving the egg, and walked over to the feeding buckets to offer her, her very own partner, her other half, his first meal. She was confused, still, but she was not ashamed by the unflattering attention she had gotten by her stunt, by the glares and the curses and hisses she barely heard. Typical. They all thought she was different, no doubt. Well she might as well be so, if the alternative was to be one of them. Stubborn and proud, she had never really felt like she fit in, and it had been going on for so long she had come to expect being different too. To bask in it, even. She would never apoogize for that, she thought. Instead she barely even paid attention to anyone else but Altaith. "I... I did not expect you. Not someone like you. I... do not really know what I expected now that I think of it," she muttered to the dragonet while feeding him meat, staring at him, the hide like ice, but the personality completely different from everything she had wondered. Oh, love, of course you did not. I did not expect you either. But here we are! Let's make the most of this union, no? Aysha only nodded, mesmerized and unable to even keep the irritated tirade on. Her face was completely blank, and all she could do was stare.
But there was other drama than what she had stirred going on at the Sands. She raised her head to catch Iroh in the middle of it. Someone bleeding on the Sands. What was even going on? "Are you... I do not think you are hungry anymore?" She poked around her own senses slightly mixed with Altaith's. She couldn't find the sense of hunger anymore now that Altaith swallowed his final piece. Oh, you want to help your friend? Your roommate, is that? "That's Iroh, I'm not sure why but... Is she in trouble? Or her friends? What happened to that girl?" Always the one to be in the middle of action, Aysha made her way to Iroh and the rest, with Altaith by her side, naturally. It really did feel natural already that she was not alone with her thoughts, which was weird on its own. She had always been a loner of sorts, a freak and a sore thumb. Now she simply felt like this new-born creature belonged to her, like she belonged to him, like a friend she had never had. So weird and yet so right. Hello, hello everyone! Oh dear, love, she is hurt! Is there anything we can do? Altaith chattered, again to everyone who listened, simultaneously curious but worried. Aysha frowned and looked at Iroh. "What happened? Is she dead? What can I do? Iroh?" Even though Aysha mostly cared for herself first, it did not mean she was without sympathy. Now that her needs had been quenched, for the first time she seemed to openly care about someone else as well. Better than no sympathy or care at all, probably. Without second thought Aysha tore off her robes, revealing that she had not had the time or the care for removing her usual clothing, and simply had just pulled the robe over the leather and cloth. She offered the now useless robe to the people around Sian, to do something to help. "Here, use this as bandage, keep the pressure on, right?" She was no healer though, and was actually quite helpless, clumsily trying to do something.
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Nia
Sr. Weyrwoman
niact[M:-790]
Posts: 991
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Post by Nia on Jan 9, 2013 15:01:05 GMT -5
Avalle narrowed her eyes at the scene unfolding on the Sands. A Candidate was mauled. Big sharding deal. The bigger deal here is the behavior of the Candidates, [/color] Callistath commented, and Avalle could feel her disaproval of Avalle's apathy towards the situation. They show no respect. We will have to regulate Tan Hatchings from now on, and make sure the Candidates recieve stricter rules when it comes to things like their friends being mauled, Callistath continued. She and Avalle both could apprecaite the dedication to their friend, but that was no reason to put themselves in any kind of danger. Too many people were rushing to defend this girl; too many were Candidates and too little were Healers. The Candidates were the duty of the Candidatemasters, although Waroth's shout caused a flicker of emotion in Avalle's apathetic expression. How could she be so calm? Maulings were nothing new, although Q'sis' behavior was new. She'd allowed it mostly because of her jaded dislike towards Candidates, but perhaps Nimara and Waroth were right to shout. His behavior was unacceptable in a way that bothered her, especially his interaction with the hatchlings. Perhaps his Tan could better defend her own children if he hadn't done what he did to her, although Tans were docile to a fault. Either way, they were going to have to make some special regulations for the next Tan clutch. They probably needed stricter Candidate guildelines as well, which Avalle had been enforcing herself for quite some time now. Her mind flashed back to Callistath's first, disasterous Clutching. What got into the minds of these kids sometimes? She would never understand. There would be no more Touchings as well. Avalle was going to be adamant about that. It took a bit more discussion between Avalle and Callistath to decide what they were going to do about all of this. Avalle rubbed her temples, watching the chaos below with an expression that slowly grew more irritated. This was annoying. Hatching mishaps made her angry. She'd perfected Candidate behavior at Callistath's last clutch only to have it all go to waste right afterwards. Stay away from the hatchlings and Candidates,[/color] they finally decided to say to Q'sis, You have done enough. You are not their mother and it is not your place.[/color] And despite his relationship with Unath, he wasn't. It was unnatural for him to do what he was doing, and it bothered her to the point where they needed to interfere. They shouldn't have to, for one. The Candidates SHOULD know not to approach any eggs. That was just basic Candidate lessons, and Avalle didn't doubt in the Candidatemaster's ability to teach. The fault lay with the Candidates. Now, for the issue of the mauled Candidate and the drama surrounding that.... Let the Healers and those they chose to assist them take care of the Candidate. Stay out of their way. The rest of you will remain Standing, and if you have Impressed, you will go off and FEED your dragonet. Remain calm, overreacting will only cause the human more harm.[/i] The announcement was sternly broadcast from Callistath across the Hatching Sands, because clearly people were still running around in a crazy mess that didn't understand what a "Healer" was. The fact that the egg-smashing girl had decided to poke her nose into the mess of people around Sian just annoyed her even more. That was enough, as Waroth had kindly put it. Avalle rubbed her temples and almost regretted coming out to this Hatching at all. It was just such a mess, wasn't it?[/blockquote][/size]
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RhiaBlack
Wingrider
rhiact[M:45]
Resident Warcraft Addict
Posts: 328
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Post by RhiaBlack on Jan 9, 2013 15:22:19 GMT -5
This is crazy. This is all absolutely sharding, shelling, wherry-brained insanity, what on Pern is wrong with all these dimglows...
Lili set her teeth in frustration and restraint as the Bronze attacked; the look on her face shifted promptly to confusion as the he was revealed to be a she. Why in Faranth would any Candidate feel the need to...she didn't honestly want to know. Reaching up, she squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, sighed, and focused her attention not on the bleeding...girl...and the spar she had surely instigated by that delivered slap. She turned it back to the still-hatching eggs. Idiocy and rule violations didn't deserve attention.
It seemed like everything she'd been told in lessons over the last sevenday was merely a guideline to be considered, not rules to be followed. Every one of them seemed to be broken, and it irritated Lili for the sheer fact that Dragons deserved respect. This wasn't respect, it was a sharding circus and a dimglow free-for-all. Sighing, she reached up to shift the pale white braid off her shoulder, and re-lace her fingers before her. She wanted to say something. She wanted so badly to tell them all to stop being sharding idiots, stop talking to Dragonets, stop talking to each other, stop interfering in something that was life-changing to so many of them - or would be, if they'd stop and pay attention. If they would do like, surely, they had been told.
Her temper was volatile, and it took every bit of restraint she had not to scream at them to shut up, stand still, and get back to where they were supposed to be. She had never stood before, but it had to make more sense than this. This was nothing like what she had been told it would be. Lili knew that sometimes things didn't go precisely according to plan, but if the lessons were anything to be held to truth, then those two girls had better be glad that they had Impressed. Q'sis didn't look pleased at all, and she didn't blame him in the slightest. Neither Tan seemed to be overly thrilled - one way or the next - either.
Being a practical stranger to most of those here made it hard. She didn't feel it her place to keep order - she was just a Candidate after all. But even at that, part of her wondered if these kids her age had even grown up with parents who cared about proper manners and etiquette. Her mother would have had a heart attack. Good thing her family wasn't here, but then again, she was certain her mother would have been proud that she wasn't attributing to this cacophony.
All in all, she did hope that the Bronze's focus of aggression did make it out all right. Lili wasn't in the mindset to enjoy or wish anyone to be hurt - and from the looks of that king, there was going to be plenty of the latter.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 9, 2013 16:07:22 GMT -5
Sian's fist jammed into the dragonet's soft nose, and the maw above Hakotep ached wider in a shriek. His wings, like two shards of sunlight, opened over his self-made ruckus and the packs of muscle already built into his hind legs tensed. His toes began to tighten on Hakotep- But then the boy beneath him stuck an arm almost in his jaw. The other body parts in his grasp slipped away like so many sandy fish. And Hakotep screamed. The bronze closed his mouth without touching the wriggling bait and went silent. A line of ichor pulsed out of his right nostril, thinned, and dissipated. With growing intelligence, he twisted his head toward the girl beyond the limb, the one that so many other humans were trying to ferry away in time. Then two arms (not Hakotep's, though it took the hatchling a moment to discern) seized his neck. Ghris had not the strength to drag him down, but the bronze's talons relaxed away from his accidental prey, his wings crumpled to his broad back, and he fell over on his side with his legs stuck straight out, shaking, his ribs puffing in and out. Despite his size and strength, he was still an aerial creature, and the weight now shared by Ghris was not enough to crush him. The dragon of gold-and-copper blinked his eyes down to a chameleon shade of rusty yellow, then enveloped the facets in his inner lids. The tip of his tail twitched against the ground after a time. I... he started, though only one in the crowd could hear it. His head and wrinkled neck turned back over his shoulder. He placed his lower jaw over Ghris' curly hair. I am not sorry. His lids fluttered again, the spectrums in his eyes dark and clear to anyone save his chosen. But I did not mean to. His eyes spun back at the gathered would-be defenders. They should go. I am Xuqulzeth. He took a deep breath and sighed over the Candidate's ear. You are G'ris now. You should make them go.Bronze Xuqulzeth, Impressed to G'ris [/color][/center] Appearance: 44 feet. WARNING: the tiniest bronze is still a bronze. WARNING: those broad stripes, ridges set forward like the spines of a boar's mane, and that boxy, bunched-up figure are not just for show. Warnings are a theme with Xuqulzeth. His talons are oversized, almost clumsy, and oddly enough of all the hatchlings his is the face that takes the most after his mother's. He has her blunt, tall muzzle, but his chin is sharper, his snout less round. And of course, there's a light on in this house. His gleaming wings flash like fire when he beats them. Two of the ridges cramped over his large eyes hook rather than jut up, and his headknobs sprout thick and coil forward. (bd7e00)
Personality: Xuqulzeth. A dragon of power. He is highly empathic and monstrously predictive of other's feelings. Unusually for a bronze, his sensitivity makes for a solid Searchdragon. Sound surprising? His empathy does not readily translate to sympathy, though some people (an easy classification would be ""the innocent"") get under his skin better than others. Xuqulzeth prefers to follow his gut's orders, even if his brain knows better. After all, the first thing his gut ever told him was that he hatched just the way he should be. He knows just what to say. He's bullish and hard but his voice can be sweet and deep as silver. He does not strive for any one creature's respect, but for a place atop the heights of the Weyr. His devotion to his goals is, at the very least, intense. He covets anything he's told he can't have. He's apt to take rejections of any sort personally, and can turn self-destructive as a result. Note that in Xuqulzeth's case, self-destruction must be a group effort, and he'll never go down alone. He's a physical animal, apt to challenges and displays toward anyone that gets uppity in his presence. The ghost of danger will cause him to attack its presumed source. Tear it down, burn it, not for glory, but just to stay safe. There's a little trick to Xuqulzeth, which is that most of the time he's alright, but when things escalate they do so with the speed of a lighting fire (and can be doused as quickly by an experienced hand). He's a bronze that can, believe it or not, be herded to the proper course. But doing so requires not the bit or the whip, but a willingness to reach the mind beneath the brawn. Xuqulzeth in turn will take his own interest in G'ris' development as a rider. He will ever be a beacon of encouragement, a shining shield, and a fountain of boasting whenever G'ris neglects the opportunity. From around the bronze's considerable flank, a pointy green head finally peeked into the mire of blood and flesh. She stepped over his tail, hopping a little to avoid the upward twitch of the forks at the end. She squatted down by Hakotep's foot, throat throbbing with each breath. She had stopped her earlier clamor even before Xuqulzeth toppled, but her body was still shrunken in upon itself. She was trying to cock her head at each of the boys without being too obvious about it. Her blue brother was less choosy. Or more determined. He came striding through the throng of legs, ducking each shuffled foot at a last precise second. Except where it came to Kaihekoa, Irohvyne, and Yuri. He paused a moment before them, calculating the burden of each, then moved to Irohvyne's end and butted his dark head into her arms and legs. He used just enough strength to deter her from the lift. Then he dipped his long face toward Sian. Yuri was wrong: he would be all that she saw, tilting his head from side to side, hunching his shoulders in consideration. Even so. The hatchling narrowed his eyes at the rivulets of blood coming out of the flimsy trappings thrown over the girl. Even so. You are the only one. I am Shalith, Sian. He pressed his forehead to hers, snout lying down her nose to her chin. Do you feel me? The blue did not mean only his physicality, though it was there, a fresh body to support Sian's splintered senses. Though her pain came upon him, he remained firm, upright, eyes blazing blue under the iridescence of Impression. What he really meant was his potential, which he had already recognized in himself. The only doubt had come when Xuqulzeth had almost taken her from him, and that time was past. Sian would live. By her own will, though he had no qualms about matching her strength with his. Hold on. With a purposefulness quite unlike his quivering bronze brother, Shalith lifted his head to regard the Candidatemaster. We are going now, he told Sian, though his eyes demanded it of Yuri too. Blue Shalith, Impressed to Sian [/color][/center] Appearance: 32 feet. Classic blue architecture, with a soft, equine face. If it makes him appear calm, that suits Shalith. His body is a tool, after all, and it is large enough, strong enough, and smart enough to serve him. His wings grow longer to the outermost digits, giving him an in-flight silhouette like a songbird pressed to length. His eyeridges are contiguous over his brow, with just a slight haughty lift to their architecture. His spine ridges are more modest, a series of hills without embellishment from the nape of his neck to the midpoint of his tail. (000085)
Personality: Shalith was born to take command. He is calm, confident, and intelligent, with an excellent memory for anything that involves drills and fighting Thread. If he has a serious weakness in that regard, it is a lack of imagination; he can follow rules to a T, but he fumbles a bit when asked to work outside the box. What he really needs is a creative rider. He is rather quiet and thoughtful, never one to engage in a verbal or physical argument (which is not to say he would be incapable). His inner life, however, is frankly a mess. He is so comfortable with logic and responsibility that he falls apart when asked to engage in social situations; he becomes easily flustered, and never knows quite on what level to approach anyone else. His attitude toward his rider also wavers - he feels it is vitally important for them to act as an equal pair, but sometimes his loyalty transforms into being overprotective, which he always feels terribly sorry for later. He always seems to put his foot in his mouth, and so he retreats into his duty, where he feels more secure. His other major quirk is his concept of debt. He is very keen on everything balancing out on the cosmic scales of harmony and karma, and when he feels he owes someone a debt, he might actually /bend the rules/ to make things okay again. Q'sis stood by for Tedaon while the healer practiced his craft, but his back straightened when the bronze leaped upon the Candidate Sian. The man who had predicted no empathy for Candidates foolish enough to get themselves under an infant's talons grit his teeth and then, as the girl was declothed under Unath's watching eye, his lips opened in silence, and hung that way. Waroth, then Callistath threatened and chastised. Q'sis did not engage either of them, still looking off over the Sands, and looking through his dragon's eyes. When he came around to stealing Unath's voice again, it was without the characteristic fervor that normally marked his control of her: Get those Candidates back in line, you may not strip them from the hatchlings. Get the Weyrlings to the pit. This message shot like arrows to the skulls of the gathered Candidate and Weyrlingmasters. The eggs remaining across the Sands stilled with his words, or maybe out of happy coincidence, waiting for their audience to sort themselves out. The green waited too. But she was not inactive: her mind crept into another's. It appeared as a series of phantom lights on the horizon, then a shimmer like a passing fairy. The Sands colored and brightened and the dragon's vision passed not as a response to a demand, as Unath so frequently exchanged with Q'sis, but as a gift. Details beyond the human view were now illustrated in every second. Not even the shutting of lids could turn Iopiath's visions away. The red in the sand intensified to burning prominence, but just as soon the gold specks themselves took on an inner light and danced around feet and fallen bodies. The cavern ceiling opened, and it was no longer night but a hot dry day and she and hers stood on the outskirts of the desert hold Kirrok. Kirrok might be a little different from memory: the borders were sketched with trees whose bark and branches were the best for carving. And streams inexplicably populated the desert, all of them flowing to the heart of the hold. The vision winked out to reality. Or most of it did. Reality would be subjective from now on. H'tep, Iopiath said, and curled her small neck and head over his, staring past him at Xuqulzeth as she did so. Green Iopiath, Impressed to H'tep [/color][/center] Appearance: 26 feet. The body of a dreamer. Iopiath's colors are muted, the changes between light and dark subtle as the shifting of a day's sun through tree leaves. Her robust midbody gives way to a sinewy neck and tail, throat swelling just under her leaf-shaped head. Her upper and lower jaws are tipped in delicate points that close together to make a single fine arrowhead. Her ridges scatter sporadically down her spine, appearing in bunches like sprouting grass, save of course for the two special ridges that make H'tep's saddle. Her eyeridges are simply arched extensions of her brow, without any knobbiness or protrusions, and the eyes below are ironically small. Her headknobs are of typical length, with swollen termini. The forks of her tail are broader than most. (9eca71)
Personality: Iopiath's inner world is a picture book; she exists in a mental landscape rich in color and adventure, blending daydream with reality. Her imagination tends to carry her away, and every new experience, whether good or bad, is just one memory to add to a blazing tapestry of the soul. She uses few words, at least in comparison to the flood of emotion and imagery with which she will assault anyone who touches her mind. Really, it's dangerous to get sucked into Iopiath's wonderland. Despite eagerness to show-off, and a certain critical snippiness, she is polite. I mean, all things considered it's rather /easy/ to be polite when mere words are such a tiny percent of her ability to communicate. She wishes to show everyone - H'tep in particular - the beauty and miracle of the world around them, but sometimes her fantasies clash sharply with reality.
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Jan 9, 2013 16:32:34 GMT -5
Jazz watched the mad, bloody chaos with something akin to horror, but it was remote; she had to shield poor Weslieth from the worst of it. Poor thing, he never could handle this sort of thing, and he made a soft keening sound. It's okay. I don't think any of them are going to die, my love.[/i]
Her nose did wrinkle at the order to the Candidates, both from Callistath and Q'sis-Unath. "We do not force anyone to stand," she muttered, for Nimara's ears and thus Waroth's. "That kind of fear and anxiety would be more harmful to the dragonets than anything else. If their partners are still in those eggs, a little distance won't send them between." The touch of a toxic mind to one who was not theirs, however...little dragons were so fragile, there was never any telling. Jazz didn't blame the queen for trying to exercise control, and it didn't surprise her from Q'sis in the least that he would not give up what he considered his, but it was rather short-sighted, in her opinion. They weren't going far.
---
There were entirely too many people trying to crowd around Sian right now. Healers and a weyrling and her Candidatemaster and her friends - all she wanted was to be alone, to curl up and nurse her wounds in secret. But there was a part of her that cried out against half a lifetime of loneliness, and longed, for once, for more. Xuqulzeth had ripped everything away and left her hollow and exposed. There were no more secrets.
She felt him before she heard him, and heard him before she saw him. It was a calm presence, but strong, unignorable. She made a tiny noise as his face laid against hers, and pressed a shaky kiss to his snout, unseen. Even so. Even so. You are the only one. I am Shalith, Sian. Do you feel me?
Yes, she did, and for the first time since the bronze had stolen her future - yes, it had been only a moment ago, but it felt like eons - there was something to grab hold of. Why had she been afraid of this? Impression was the only thing she ever could have done; Shalith was a piece of her she hadn't realised was missing. He said her name, and she knew who she was. She knew who she was going to be.
Hold on. We are going now, he told Sian, and lifted his face to command Yuri as well. He heard Waroth, and Callistath, and he tossed a look over his shoulder at the outraged Q'sis, but there was no need for him to organise a different group to carry Sian away. They weren't going far, after all. Kaihekoa and Irohvyne could come back in a moment.
Sian was a little calmer now, and she fought for consciousness despite the pain, because if she slipped away, what would become of Shalith? He was hungry, and it was her job to feed him! But the crowd around her did not seem to have any intention of letting her do a weyrling's first duty. That is all right. I can help myself,[/i] Shalith assured her, and once she was settled in the little healing area, he trotted over to the buckets of meat, grasped one in his jaws, and dragged it closer so he could sit and eat. A very neat and logical solution, and he lifted a chunk of bloody meat in his jaws and tossed it to Altaith.
She is quite all right, you know,[/i] he said, with every evidence of pride and confidence in his whimpering rider. It was an inauspicious start to their life together, but things would come together.
Sian was not particularly pleased to have Ondine come crowding in, and Shalith scolded, You owe her a debt, for it is she who brought you to me. Say thank you.[/i] Sian gave him an incredulous look, and if he could have blushed, he would have. No, no, his rider would not take well to being commanded, that was right. He ducked his head in apology, but grumbled, You will thank her. Later. When you feel like it. Sorry. Fine! Sorry.[/i]
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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 Jan 9, 2013 16:53:18 GMT -5
There were calls from all sorts of dragons now, Candidatemasters, Weyrwomen, Clutchmothers, but the swirl did not confuse Irohvyne. She was used to this bustle—this press—the tenseness of the situation and the dramatic exposition. At this point the beasts were countermanding one another, one rank above another above another, until every order had already been given a different way by a different colour before it was even out of the mind of another. And they thought they were so ordered. So regimental and useful. It was such a wonder they managed to fight Thread at all—oh what a disaster it must be every time they rose up to sear the tendrils from the sky. It was a kindness that the Gold Callistath spoke, because her affirmation that those chosen by Yuri should help, gave Irohvyne the reason she needed to countermand the order from the Tan—or rather from Q’sis. They did not go against their Golds here did they, and she was here, was she not?
When the Blue dragonet appeared at her side, pushing her away, she was startled—but no voice entered her mind. Instead it touched…Sian. Iroh recoiled, her eyes flashing to Kaihekoa, to Yuri, then back down to her…to the weyrling. At first her emotions were stone, but then they crumbled, and her hitching breath relied on the outcome of the events that unfolded before her. It was not the catastrophe she had expected—Sian did not throw away the hatchling. Perhaps…perhaps she had found something she had been lacking? Perhaps Impression was everything they said it was. There would be time for possibilities later; at this moment she could barely think past how suddenly their situation had changed. Sian was no longer her…no longer hers, she was the Weyr’s.
She was also, dying. Or…injured and in need of repair, and no matter what Q’sis thought askance to the order of his all-high Queen, Yuri did need help to transport Sian’s broken body. Help that Irohvyne would give freely, even if it could possibly be the last she was allowed to spend time with the woman who had been her close friend and confidant. Nodding to Yuri, she helped the Candidatemaster lift his charge—wondering what he would think of this sudden Impression, and then her eyes swept to Kai’s ruined face. If he chose to follow them, he would find Iroh’s hand in need of a comforting joining beneath the broken body of their friend, but she would not fault him for staying—if things had become…confusing. She still needed the tall grumpy man, even if it seemed as if Sian no longer needed either of them.
Regardless of how much truth that statement held, Iroh tried to offer her friend a brave smile, but the words she wanted to speak died on her lips as they left the Sands for the healing area. The moment her feet left the searing heat of that area, Iroh’s head cleared, like a suffocating veil had been lifted from around her throat and mouth. Free. Not entirely, but it couldn’t be too far off at this point. Surely her father would rip her from the Weyr, and now she did not have to worry about abandoning her Sian, because she had found a place here whether she had wanted it or not. As for Kai…some things could not be helped, but she could stay to see how he would fare under the circumstances.
When Sian was down, Iroh moved away, clutching at herself while keeping a cool eye on the Healers as they did their work. She would not interfere, not with her presence or her words, but she still wasn’t certain if she wanted to return to the chaos of the hatching grounds. If Kai had chosen to follow, she would simply stay close to him, leeching comfort from his presence as a Lady was wont to do with her advisors and guardians: Her champion lay bleeding, and changed, and chosen, and she found herself perilously close to being wholly alone—if Sian had been claimed…Kai could be as well. If, however, she was alone, then she had already set about wearing a line into the stone beneath her feet, hands clasped at the small of her back as she paced out the nerves and emotions she could not express facially—or verbally.
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Post by bailiwick on Jan 9, 2013 18:27:58 GMT -5
His arms, wrapped around the great bronze's neck, felt the creature...relax. He could feel it sag in his arms, its flexed wings flopping back against its sides as it lost balance...or pitched itself...on top of him.
He held it as the weight bore onto him, not enough to crush him but much like a small runnerbeast it was heavy and made his ribs ache. It huffed and puffed in his arms, and all at once the boy was sincerely apologetic, but greatly relieved. The dragonet shook in his arms and the herder gripped him, in an awkward, confused attempt to soothe. It clearly was not expecting to be on its back so soon in life - but Hakotep's face was still intact and for that was he was grateful.
It seemed like he lied there underneath the great creature for hours even though it was mere moments. Time slowed and his purpose here was almost lost in the cold sweat after a rush of adrenaline.
Almost lost.
And then a voice started up in his head. It was smooth, like liquid ice, pleasant to hear and very clear. I... And then there was a gentle weight of jaw on his hair and the bronze continued. I am not sorry. But I did not mean to. His arms tightened around the bronze, as if protectively. He hardly needed protection, but Ghris' brows knit in consternation. Suddenly, the dragon made sense to him. His thoughts flooded G'ris', and lying there together half-crushed under his life-partner, everything seemed warm amidst the chaos. Warm and spent - both of their energy was exhausted. They should go. I am Xuqulzeth. A warm breath over his ear, which made him tilt his head slightly against the face of the bronze. You are G'ris now. You should make them go. And from around Xuqulzeth a green peeked and passed over them, carefully stepping around his, to approach Hakotep who had been toppled in the opposite direction. All was well.
"We should get up," he countered, softly. "And then I will make them go. And we will go." Xuqulzeth took a moment to consider this and slowly, appearing to agree to this deal, rolled into a kneel and then an steady stand. G'ris found his legs weakened as he attempted the same and he stumbled slightly, dazed, resting his palms on his knees for a moment as he took a deep breath. He was whole. His worry had abated. The worst had happened - and they had come through. A hand rested on the bronze who stood stalwart beside him.
"Give us room," he said aloud to anyone that was too close. But the crowd was still present, watching them in a mire of emotions and noise and Xuqulzeth was mightily displeased, G'ris could feel it like it was his own. "Give us room I said."
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RavenSong
Jr. Weyrleader
songct[M:-364]
Posts: 710
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Post by RavenSong on Jan 9, 2013 19:30:26 GMT -5
P'ryt looked down at Hanei, realizing that she'd probably never seen a hatching this bloody. She was horrified, he could tell that clearly, and that was like a kick in the back of the head.
Hemetath, direct Noveth to come attend to her rider, P'ryt directed as he leaned down and simply scooped up his child. What he was doing wasn't typically done, but he wasn't risking a weyrling. He wasn't letting his daughter see the carnage. He carried Hanei out of the Hatching Sands, visibly angry.
Noveth. Follow Yours, Hemetath directed. They leave. Hemetath gave Noveth the image of P'ryt carrying Hanei outside and into the night. Hemetath remained, watching the Hatching for P'ryt.
"Call Noveth to you," P'ryt directed gently. "Ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't be doing this. Leaving mid-Hatching is rude. However... I'm not chancing you and Noveth. I told Hemetath to tell Noveth to come to you, as well. This is, frankly, the bloodiest Hatching I've seen. We're done in here."
And that was that. His tone indicated his disgust with the proceedings. Despite Waroth's call for order and Callistath's control, he was done. He was determined that his daughter was done there too.
----
N'yn stood on the sidelines, watching in growing horror as he fed Eidukth. Halfway through her meal, Eidukth rustled her wings and started for the Sands, only to be picked up by N'yn as Sian got shredded.
"We can't go back out there," he said to the Cyan.
Why not? We have to help! You're getting upset by what's going on, you want to help! Eidukth crooned in distress.
"Well, yeah, but there are rules, and we're gonna get yelled at!" N'yn protested.
Why would they yell at us for trying to help? They're yelling and we're not trying to help!
"Because once we Impress, we come over here and we stay over here. Besides, we'd just be in the way. Ondine over there saved Pern, she's able to help Sian way better than we could, Eidukth. And they're yelling because everyone else is being a dimglow. Except we're not being dimglows, so they're not yellng at us, okay? Don't worry. I wouldn't let you get in trouble."
Oh. Well, I suppose that's okay then. You're certain we can't help?
"Yeah, I'm sure. I really want to, though."
I do too.
"Look! Look, Eidukth! That blue there, he walked up to Sian. Is he his?" N'yn asked. "Hers... whatever! His. Sian's! Or... S'an's?"
He's Shalith, N'yn. And he found His, Eidukth confirmed. N'yn gave a cheer.
"Well, he Impressed! So there's that... umm... huh. Eidukth, you're still hungry." He reached for the bucket just as Shalith came over to take it. "Haha! Yeah, you can have that, little buddy. Good job! You can trust Ondine with your rider, she saved Pern!" N'yn gave Sian as reassuring a smile as he could muster. His youthful surety made Eidukth happy. Hers was sure things would be okay, so they would. She walked to a bucket and started to eat, N'yn quickly following.
----
K'var watched the drama unfold with bated breath, his eyes fixed on the form of his son. Like P'ryt last Hatching, he was worried his son would be clawed by the dragonets. After seeing that Bronze go murderous, he was hoping Varkyr would stay quiet and stay safe.
He was pleased to see Varkyr staying quiet and not joining in the altercations. He was quite proud of that fact. Standing at Ista had certainly prepared Varkyr, though he doubted anything like this Hatching had ever happened at Ista.
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Post by larkwing on Jan 9, 2013 19:47:03 GMT -5
The events that unfolded next were a huge mess, nothing more, in Kurosaki's eyes. There was much shouting, and yelling, and crying, and confusion. First there were injured boys, then injured boys turned into injured girls, or girl as it were. That had all been before, and now there were many all coming together and defying the hatching it seemed. Or at least, that was what he understood it to be seen as. There was something about the way the Lady and her companions worked, how they moved and looked at the sands around them with a sort of contempt...maybe even hatred?
It certainly was interesting he decided. Tilting his head just the slightest bit, the candidate ruffled his hair with a hand before turning to look over his shoulder at the man who had come up to him and said those gruff words. Raising both his hands, he took a small step back and rolled his eyes. "Wasn't looking at her, calm down. I was watching the bronze in case he tried to run this way." At the end he mumbled something that probably would have sounded like a curse and a short exclamation of, "wouldn't want to be dragon-food." It wasn't his fault he was being observant as a good candidate should.
At least, that was what his easy smirk and gesture tried to say. Really beneath it though the thought coursed through his head and blood that he was watching not just because of the need to survive, but because there was some part of him that found it to be amusing. Was he some sort of terrible because of that? Probably, but he was in for no good part of this world so why should that matter? Sighing and shrugging his shoulders as he inclined his head toward the newly impressed bronze and blue, and even a green as well he let that be his point of why he was here watching.
Not that he was getting in the way though, no he stayed in his spot with the other candidates that had certain genitalia...or that were thought to have certain genitalia apparently. That brought another smirk to his lips and he tried to hide his dark amusement and the soft chuckle it brought. Why in Faranth's name did he find this whole thing so funny? Was it in some sort of hysterical fit? No, he did not think so. He was always like this; sarcastic, rude, finding humor at the most inappropriate time. So, in that line of thought he guessed he found it all a sort of twisted joke. So much irony and happenstance, and in the end everything worked out so perfectly.
Lock and shardin' key. There probably was a twinge of remorse in there as well, definitely a good helping or two of jealousy. He had been here longer, and he still had nothing to prove for it except a long stay in an infirmary bed and a somewhat friend bonded to a cyan who was a pain in his rear. Rubbing his neck and giving a bored sigh, narrowed eyes slid from the newly impressed to the left over eggs and dragonets. It's not like you ever expected to impress. It's not like you stand because of that. It's something to do...what would you do if you actually got one of those ugly things anyway?
Now that idea almost had him laughing. At least his shoulders shook slightly with the effort of keeping still. No doubt that anyone watching would either think him strange, or maybe just laughing at the events that had happened. Not that Kurosaki cared too much. For a moment he stood there though, letting himself take in the surroundings. Did he actually ever remember a hatching; the sands, the way it felt, the sound of dragonets cracking their shells and the look in their rainbow eyes? No. That was what he looked on now though, he wanted to be able to say that at least once while so many others were paying attention to something else, he was actually looking on and watching the hatching as he should.
Wasn't he just the perfect little candidate now? Perhaps he had only meant to amuse himself further with the idea, or maybe somewhere in his heart he really meant it for the thing it was. However, all he knew at that moment was that there were eggs to be watched and dragonets to stand for....and nothing to do anymore but do that. In the end he supposed it was as much out of boredom that he went back to doing what he should be as much as anything else.
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Lan
Weyrlingmaster
lanct[M:-1025]
Nomming ALL the kidpets!
Posts: 1,266
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Post by Lan on Jan 9, 2013 19:56:01 GMT -5
It was all chaos. It was all just one big mess. The scene of the bloody hatching left as explosions of fire and light and pain lit up Kaihekoa's eyes. The pain, in particular, was eminent. He was forced to drop Sian unwittingly, his vision blurred and his head throbbing in the surprise of pain and anguish. Now breathing through his mouth, he realized he was incapable of breathing through his nose and the form the took up the lower corners of his vision for all his life had changed and contorted. Tears unwillingly poured from his eyes in response to a trauma so close to home and the woodcrafter could barely manage standing even himself. There was no scream and no words for him to form together. His teeth clenched down like tectonic plates, grinding and shifting against each other under the stress. When he was finally able to open his eyes the very light from the Hatching Caverns caused him to recoil.
Sian was on the ground, clutching Iroh. No... wait... Ondine was there... and then she wasn't. Then his Candidatemaster was there? It was all a blur harmonizing in a dangerous song with the bursts of pain from his now crooked nose. He probably deserved it, of course. The entire hatching he had acted foolishly. But how could he have acted any different? His best friend needed him, or so he thought. Maybe, though, his thinking had been wrong. Maybe Sian didn't want him. Twice now his friend had assaulted him. Maybe he should have just stayed in his place.
The very dumb young man followed Yuri's instructions as best he could, although the tears that streamed down his eyes, mixing with the blood from his nose, did little to add to his sense of control. He had surrendered control now. Sian had beat him into submission in a way no one else could and Yuri's criticism did nothing to soften the blow. He was just some dumb punk, no better than his brother getting into Faranth-knows-what back at Crescent. It was a humbling experience... but, more-so, it was humiliating. He took his place at Sian's side, lifting her as the Candidatemaster instructed. Iroh's hand attached to his was felt and clung to with the intensity of a man who thought he had lost everything. The calls of dragons, each telling him what to do, rattled his brain and made his pain increase by tenfold. He winced and groaned, but he did not drop Sian. Yuri was his Candidatemaster and had given him a direct order and, while there were several angry dragons that gave him orders as well, he would not disobey an order from the person directly in charge of him.
Then it happened. A blue, vibrant and calm, came and his eyes met with Sian's. Kai couldn't take it. He had to look away.
When he finally deposited his friend's body at the Healer's camp, he backed up and looked to Yuri for answers. He didn't want to stay here... not anymore. But he would do as he was bid. He would act as he was directed. There had been enough rule-breaking for one day. Doing his best to ignore the pain from his nose, he searched for Iroh and clasped his now bloody hand in hers as a show of comfort. He waited for their fate. He waited for their sentence. It wouldn't be long before they were thrown out, he was sure... or dragged back to stand for the Hatching that was ongoing, despite the fact that his world had just been ripped apart.
A'lan and Lonet were at the Healer's Camp now, A'lan descending to the place where Sian had be placed. He looked at her two friends that brought her and the Candidatemaster that was with them, then down to what would likely be his patient and her dragon, a newborn blue. Keep him calm, Irith, he asked telepathically of his dragon, maintaining his level head unlike many of the others around him. With a polite smile he approached Sian's side, maintaining a respectful distance after witnessing the display she had caused of lashing out at all who came near. "My name is A'lan and I am a Healer... do I have your permission to touch you?" His hands were stained up to their elbows already with redwort and a jar of numbweed salve was ready and waiting to have him apply it as soon as Sian gave him permission. Irith, from his place a little ways away (he was always near A'lan in case the man needed something) touched his colorful and gentle mind to Shalith's. Shalith, I am Irith. MyA'lan will take good care of yours, do not worry! Perhaps it wasn't much of a consolation, but Irith did try his best. Losk was blindfolded and standing next to Irith, his handler busying herself preparing the sutures that would be needed for Sian's wounds. She came up and stood behind A'lan, hands also stained with redwort and prepared to assist.
Somehow, as well, Tesla and Tessk had made their way to the Healer's camp. Tesla was in the back, though, as far away from the Sands as she could get. She would help when summoned, but otherwise she would remain here. Already, though, she had washed her hands and was prepared. Tessk stayed firmly by her side, sending waves of love and affection her way. Will be okay, she told her handler and the utmost kindness and care, Tessk here. Tessk never leave hers.
Although Callistath's call did some stirring to order, Waroth was not at all appeased. This disaster had gone on long enough--a disaster she had not caused--and the order from Q'sis-Unath was enough to wrinkle her nose into a gross sneer. We will do our jobs... and you will not give orders, thing. Nimara, meanwhile, was trying her best to think quickly how best to salvage things. Callistath and Unath (or whatever force moved her) had every right to claim candidates for the young, but Jasmine was right in saying that that wrong candidates could force the dragonets between. A choice had to be made. A command had to be given. Her hands moved over each other, wringing and scratching and pulling at each other as she closed her eyes to clear her head and think. "You're right," she told the yellowrider, "The ones that ask can move to the Stands, but we cannot take Candidates away from the hatching unless they let us know they can't handle it." Although diplomacy generally came easily to her, this situation was by far the most difficult of her life. She wrapped her mind up in Waroth's, the red quickly catching the transfer of information, and then she hoped for the best.
Candidates will get themselves back in line or myself, Weslieth, or Yusk's shall come for them. Waroth addressed the candidates, Candidatemasters, Weyrwomen, and Clutchmothers. Those that find themselves unable to remain on the sands will let ME know so they can be led to the stands. Those that move out of line without my permission from now on will answer to ME directly! The warning was punctuated with a roar, and then she continued, excluding the candidates from her last address, We will not make them Stand and risk dragon lives and theirs for their stupidity. There was a long pause then, the decision made and executed. Nimara was sure she would get complaints from the Weyrwomen and the others that were sure that removing Candidates was wrong, but it was her decision to make and she stood by it. If she was fired, so be it... she would not willingly risk the lives of dragons or candidates simply because some were Searched that didn't want to Stand.
Kaihekoa heard the call and final decision from Waroth, and looked to Irohvyne for answers. "I have to Stand," he told her, his voice cracking. He was unwilling to anger the dragons further with his actions. "Will you come with me?"
Hanei, in the stands, nodded to her father. "Yes, sir," she agreed and searched her mind out for Noveth. But the green was already coming to her, eager to be close to the source of all the emotion she had been privy to. I am here. We will leave. This place is not for us anymore. Hanei stood and averted her eyes from the Hatching, eager to follow P'ryt where he led her. This wasn't right. Everything had gone so wrong. She couldn't understand how such chaos could happen at what was supposed to be a happy event. Therefore, she followed her father out into the night, her dragon meeting up with them along the way. Noveth crooned sorrowfully and Hanei encircled her arms around the green's neck, doing her best to send comforting thoughts. Then the green looked up at Hemetath, the drab iron still a bit of a nuisance in her vision, and admitted in a calm humility, I can change. Hanei was important to her. Hanei had been bothered by so much. Noveth would change to help her Hanei even as she helped to change her Hanei... for the better. Change was always for the better.
Finally, inside a Weyrlingmaster had made it onto the scene. A'bar had his own kids to worry about and had Ablath send them all instruction to remove themselves from the caverns. However, because there was an apparent absence of F'reki, he finally admitted he might have to be the one to get the rogue Weyrling out of there. He wasn't, at all, looking forward to it. Leaning on Ablath heavily for support, he gave the usually cheerful green the words to say and she relayed them. Altaith, darling! You must get yourself and yours off the Sands. I am Ablath and A'barMine is a Weyrlingmaster. We are sure the Candidatemasters and the Healers will make sure Yours' friend gets proper treatment! It was a bit too polite, A'bar thought, for a girl who had just gone through smashing eggs... but he trusted Ablath as his partner and his other half to do what was right.
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Cathaline
Lady Holder
cathct[M:50]
Posts: 3,279
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Post by Cathaline on Jan 9, 2013 20:05:51 GMT -5
Sian had never been in a healer's care before, not in her whole life, for obvious reasons. The pain throbbed through her body and the loss of her friends was nearly unbearable, but she still rebelled against the whole concept of being in someone else's control. She didn't want a bunch of healers crowding her, acting like they knew best; she might not be trained, but she'd tended enough of her own wounds in the past. They weren't afraid for her, either; no one cared if Candidates lived or died. They were afraid for Shalith.
"No," she said fiercely to A'lan, and her hand grasped at Ondine, who had followed. "Only her."
Shalith ruffled his wings and stepped between His and A'lan. I do apologise, but if you touch her, I will have to go between,[/i] he said. It wasn't a threat, just a simple statement of fact. He was a strong dragon, and his rider was strong-willed; he could survive her pain, and he would weather the long emotional storm that was sure to follow when she could think past it. But this sort of violation, now...that would be a trauma neither of them could cope with. All things considered, best not to risk it. Thank goodness the savior of Pern was right here. Hello, Irith, it is nice to meet you.[/i]
N'yn received a cordial head-bow for his kindness, and Shalith's tail curled lightly around Sian's wrist. He had to keep out of the way so the healers could do their duty, but that certainly did not mean he would leave her.
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Post by thyme on Jan 9, 2013 20:59:23 GMT -5
It seemed that the bronze’s wrath couldn’t be satisfied with one victim for no sooner had he shredded one candidate than he leapt onto another intent on devouring in his face. But before he could complete the task, the candidate, a woman…what…hadn’t she just been a man?…, that he had just mangled punched him in the snout. It stopped him from killing the boy right then and before he could gather himself to retaliate the most unexpected thing happened. Ghris, terrified, incompetent Ghris, threw his arms around the bronze’s neck and tried to pull him back from Hakotep and Sian. Frayya didn’t know whether to call it courage or stupidity. The bronze could turn on him just as easily as he had the others.
Frayya heard further screaming and her head whipped about to see another candidate yelling at the clutch mother who had another candidate clutched in her talons. “Has everyone gone insane?” The weaver muttered to herself. She could feel Pest burrow her head into her neck as roars from the dragons echoed back and forth across the cavern. The girl was put back down unharmed but then both of them hurried to the woman-man’s side which happened to be right next to an enraged bronze. ‘Insane or suicidal,’ She thought to herself. The Candidatemasters were trying vainly to get the candidates back into order while one of them enlisted two of the candidates to get Sian out of there.
‘I think the Weyrwomen need to have a word with their Search riders,’ Frayya thought. The Search riders were obviously just been bringing any old person who happened by to the Weyr. They needed some stricter criteria. Just as she was thinking that, the bronze turned and laid his head on Ghris’ curly hair in a gesture that was far to docile to indicate an immediate attack. ‘Did he just Impress?’ She thought in astonishment. Then of all the things a blue Impressed to the injured woman-man who had punched the bronze. And then a green Impressed the boy who had almost had his head bitten off by that same bronze. “Apparently being crazy is the criteria,” She said to herself.
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
azhct[M:-1490]
Totes.
Posts: 1,627
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Post by Azhdarchid on Jan 9, 2013 21:53:26 GMT -5
Outside the Hatching, the wind picked up. In Summer it was a meaningless, even pleasant threat. But it tightened to a gust, and rolled into the cauldron. A few dried peels of Charth's black-and-white shell blew back around the mountain brown and cerulean blue eggs that sat nearby. Unath's paw came down on the fragments and pulled them in to the sheltered cove between her arms. Despite all else that had been going on, the tan had maintained this nesting cleanliness. Or coveting. The only exception was Xuqulzeth's remnants, which had been ground to a sparkling ruby dust that took a careful eye to differentiate from the spits of blood wrinkling in the sand. The cerulean egg cracked, and spit up a dragonet of the exact same color. Only his hide was nebulous, darkening and lightening, an enigma of space or the deep sea. He looked over his shoulder at his monstrous but largely inert dam, and his eyes flexed their green out, and he winked at the man behind the tan. Q'sis took his breath a little sharp, but that might have been Tedaon mishandling a bandage. Unath's rider looked down at his assistant, then took him by his abbrieviated arm, and nudged him back. "That is enough for now. You distract me. Go mop up some of those drecks in the robes." The blues, be they male or female, held what Q'sis thought was the queen's share of beauty in the dragon race. Or maybe he was just like the Igen, worshipping water. His scratched stomach contracted, and though he kept Unath's eyes on the proceedings, he turned his own to the Stands. Sought out the dark corners. Where? Where? Was she here? The hatchling lingered purposefully by his egg, seeing Unath's claws twitching in the sand as she waited for him. At last he stepped out, dragging a few shiny slug-trails from his glimmering birth cocoon. Immediately his mother stuck out her paw and reeled in the two almost perfectly intact blue eggshells. The freed captive stumbled over the first dune on his way to the Candidates, and as he rose smelled the human blood lacing the earth. He threw back his head and sang a single piercing note, not quite grief, certainly without anger. A toneless tribute to what had gone before. Not all the Candidates were so acknowledging or respectful. He could see that much. And there were those- his bald little old man's head, an artifact of his extreme youth, twisted toward Iroh -that had been ruined by this occasion. He did not know if it could be called a "happy" day. For himself and his kin, they lived and would go on living. But the humans were soft and they suffered for the Hatching. They suffered for dragons. All but one. Do you love nothing, Ku'ki? he asked, approaching the boy with light steps of his large, stiff feet. It was the approach of a statue, or maybe a god. Maybe I, Ocilovoth, like that you can see it as only a game. Your- a hesitation as the dragonet, newborn still, searched his mate's mind for the concept. -logic will serve you well. It is a hard world. We are both calm in it. But even I do not know where that will leave us, come the end of the day.[/color] Blue Ocilovoth, Impressed to Ku'ki [/color][/center] Appearance: 29 feet. Ocilovoth is built in a wave, narrower at his hindquarters and the tip of his tail, and bulkier toward his shoulders and head. His headknobs are strong, rear-pointing spears that crest alongside his head rather than above it. His large, pointy spineridges bejewel his upper neck and his tail. His feet are large and his toes a little stiff, giving him a practiced air during take-off and landing like a runner trained for dressage. His shoulders have slight ridges down their leading edges, and his hindlegs have similar pebbly protrusions. His wings are broad, his snout long with his lower jaw clipping in just a little longer beneath. (22bbe0)
Personality: Not much for technical matters, but world-wise and intuitive. His empathy is like the ever-open eyes of an oracle, focusing always on the things others try to hide. He is an old man from birth, but also ardent in his passions. Sassy, even. Confident and clear. Ocilovoth questions too much to be a mere arbiter of truth and good. When he makes friends, they also tend to be people who are good resources or useful workers. Unlike many dragons, he has a keen sense of the passage of time. He disdains slouches and has strong appreciation for hard work in others, though he prefers to oversee than to leap to the grunting himself. His association with Ku'ki is built on love...and necessity. He is an independent thinker, kin in more ways than one to his green sister Toonooth. If nomads had kings, it is he they would be. As though to capitalize on Q'sis' brief favor, another egg opened and another blue thing jumped out. This one was female- why the females necessitated their own color name was beyond him -and she danced right out of her purple-grey shell. Charth had taken a walk to get used to her legs, Xuqulzeth had needed only a few lunges, but like Eidukth this cyan was springy from the start. She kicked her back feet and the front of her sailed into the air, her wings cutting open to catch her fall. Her feet were small but her legs long, giving her the tipsy grace of a runner. Maybe a stylized runner, whose legs were simply single lines of azure ink. The prancing was not play, however. She was demonstrating. Let all heed. As if already convinced she were under doubt, the cyan darted forward, into the flock of female Candidates that had remained where they were. She flashed between them, a phantom in the wind, and her eyes coursed from red to blue. See her. Smell her, the sweet cold tastelessness of dragon flash. Her dashing set up waves of sand against helpless legs and up robes. Seems her audience would be dancing with her. Her choice came with a stop to the writhing, and the crown of her head butted into the pelvis of her chosen. My queen Requezzia, she said, and despite her behavior there wasn't a hint of mockery in it. Bessienth is here.Cyan Bessienth, Impressed to Requezzia [/color][/center] Appearance: 30 feet. Uncommonly tall for her size, Bessienth strides on stilt-like legs, and carries her head high whenever she can. Her tail billows thick at the base and runs fairly short. Her neckridges stand out like the knobs on bedposts, round and squat and equally spaced. Her thick, equine face is best compared to the draft breeds on Pern, and her headknobs are unusual diamond-shaped tabs that crown the sides of her skull. Each eyeridge is smooth and dips forward slightly over her calm sentinel's gaze. (befff2)
Personality: If Eidukth is a knight errant, then Bessienth is her lost warhorse. Physical, aggressive, and none too chatty, Bessienth has the wariness of a domestic animal left out in the wilderness too long. Her responses are curt, typically ending on "my lord" or "my lady" (Ezzia might get "my queen"). Though Bessienth chooses Requezzia, her heart isn't wholly her queen's from the start. She chose her to survive, ands he'll quickly become critical if she maintains her present self-importance. She's like that with everyone: her respect must be earned, and no title or color will deter her from basic tests of merit. She's a humorless creature, driven toward helpfulness to humankind- she relates to other dragons mostly though a tough physical presence, and getting her to let her guard down long enough for a conversation is tricky. Her partnership with Requezzia may lead her to disdain arrogant women no matter their other merits. Without careful nurturing of a relation beforehand, it is unlikely for her to Fly. She is quiet and dutiful, but shields herself from scrutiny. When Unath collected the shards of Ocilovoth's egg, the big dun egg left behind had fallen forward. Its prisoner rammed his head into the narrow tip, pushing it off, though it remained stuck to his snout as he crawled free. He looked around- well, tried to look around, but the shell blocked his view. He almost took a step forward out of Unath's shadow before he realized the problem and shook his head. The shell flew off (Unath caught it on her clawtip). Underneath was a thin brown, pale splotches painting his neck and thighs and ringing his tail. Specks of light and dark claimed his hips and wings. He snuffled at the world, his large wings sagged around him like an old man's robe. After a moment, he left Unath and wandered over to Mith. Swallowing a few times to find a voice in his throat, he grunted at her. When she, his very mother, only stared at him, his nostrils puffed and he grunted again, perhaps in anger. Non-response from either twin drove him out of the clutch and toward destiny. But along his way, an arm thrust out of the massive mint egg to his right. He jumped artlessly and fell on his side. Unath's talon oozed between the two of them to retrieve the shard the mint had thrown off, then oozed back out of the way. The brown stood up carefully, and examined the strange claw waving around above the other egg. He would likely not be the only one: the emerged paw looked blue, but brown too. Webbed with green, spiked with pallid gray. Was it only the light? The paw came down on the smooth surface of the shell and patted around at it, and the brown drew closer, sniffing so hard his entire face seemed to contract with each breath. Then the hand stuck up again and began wagging around like a flag in a queer wind. The brown did not draw away this time. The mystery arm banged against the edges of the gap that had birthed it, and at last a thin green line cut across the skin of the waver, and the waving stopped. The claw quivered in place, then sank down back inside the egg. The brown leaned forward, only to jump (just in-place, this time) when a loud, panicked banshee wail came railing out of the opening. The egg didn't move any more. Just cried and cried at the earsplitting frequency of a baby in need. Mushing his jaws together, the brown plumped down on his haunches next to the huge green egg. He looked out at the Candidates, then back at the punctured shell. Unath's head came down to look with him, and her bright blue tongue traveled the surface of the anomaly, but the crying continued. Q'sis elected to give the brat a few. The brown looked out at the boys, and the girls. He hooted at them every so often, but remained right where he was, at his hopeless sibling's side.
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