Shh, It's A Secret Surprise! {Kila}

[Admin]

You told me slow,
Before I move on,
You must remember,
Each day is a gift.

In the Weyrleader's weyr, something bundled up in the man's furs lay waiting. It wasn't truly waiting all that well, actually, but someone had left it there for him. The large firelizard egg rocked back and forth insistently. Whatever was inside, bronze or brown, orange or purple, was going to get out soon, whether the intended recipient showed up or not. The firelizard inside had to be quite healthy, the way it was going at it, even if it didn't seem to be getting that far. Perhaps it did know that it was supposed to be waiting for someone. Cracks began to form on the mottled surface, forming thin lines that traced about the shell.

No note had been left with the hatching egg. No warning had been given. Besides the presence of the shaking egg, the weyr looked exactly the same as it had been, except for one thing. Footprints traced in water made a beeline from the door to the cot, clear and firm. They were so obvious in the quiet weyr. Daidoroth stood guard of the eggs on the sands that he had sired. Perhaps the poor egg wouldn't get a chance to bond to anyone. Perhaps O'sho wouldn't come back before it hatched. The giver had been willing to risk it to stay almost anonymous. More cracks formed on the breaking egg, growing wider with each rock.

You and I are strange,
Passing in the night between,
The darkness and the rain,
Nothing has to change.

[Kila]

But the Weyrleader’s sanctuary was not as empty as it appeared. The shadows of O’sho’s weyr were the permanent home to his lone, sinister pet- Oblivion. Only the bitter, gnarled Black had seen who had come and left the gift behind, but he would never tell. In fact, if he had his way, there would be no egg. But since he could not dispose of the entire thing, he planned on disposing whatever had the audacity to emerge from it. This was his home and his person. He had no interest in sharing.

Oblivion hunched over on the post of O’sho’s bed closest to the soon-to-be intruder like a Terren gargoyle. He watched with mean, piercing eyes as the egg shook, sending a network of cracks across the shell. He dug his needle-like claws into the wood in sick anticipation, leaning forward with narrow eyes whirring ever faster. Fortunately for the creature inside, O’sho strolled in at just that moment. He paused, immediately picking up on the extra hate broiling over from his littlest bonded, and strode over to investigate. ”And what is this?” he asked of Oblivion, spotting the jerking egg in his furs with surprise. ”How did this get here?” But the Black only hissed angrily in reply, dodging O’sho’s hand when the man tried to pet him and lunging at the egg. O’sho snatched him carefully out of the air with a frown. Oblivion screamed and thrashed about, craning his head to bite and flaring his ragged wings. O’sho let him go gladly and he flew off in a rage, winking between almost immediately.

All real danger gone, O’sho turned back to the egg, leaning on his haunches and studying it with wonder as it continued to squirm and crack. What was it doing in his furs?

[Admin]

A fatal premonition,
You know you got to envision,
The fiery crash,
Oh close your eyes and you wake up.

Under the gaze of O'sho, the egg gave a sharp snap and then broke apart into several chunks. From between the shifting pieces, that looked like a craggy, blooming flower, a lithe orange stepped forward onto the furs. The well porportioned girl, tiny in her youth but not truly small, moved with confidence. Her hide was flame-colored. While mostly that applied to the fact it was a very scarlet shade of deep orange, slight variations in the color across the smooth, tough skin made it shift like a bright fire. She stretched, learning to flex her legs and back, and eyed the world with a razor sharp attention. She showed none of the fire that flashed on her smooth hide, but that was only because of a pride. A thick-skinned, mule-headed pride that ran deep in her. Hunger gnawed at her, but she refused to listen. She sized up the man before her, craning her head.

For a moment, she stood there, staring fixedly at O'sho with an obstinate expression written on her face. She didn't need him. She could do everything she needed by herself. However, she was hungry, and she didn't know where food was. He would know, and he could give her that information. With a firmness to each of her awkward hopping steps, she strode to him and she clambered up one of his arms insistently until she was on his shoulder. There she regarded with him with a passionately cool face. Then she let out an imperious cry. He would help her get food! Not because she needed his help, but because it was necessary! She settled back, not moving her swirling eyes off him. Finally, after a moment of pause following her cry, she leaned forward and rubbed her head against his cheek for a second. She supposed she was a little fond of him too.

The fiery crash,
It's just a formality,
Why must I explain why?
Just a nod to mortality.

[Kila]

O’sho watched with keen interest as the beautiful egg fell apart. The small flitter that emerged from it easily outshone its old home in beauty, however. ”Well I’ll be,” he murmured as she stepped forth. She was tiny and delicate in her youth, but she carried herself with a confidence that transcended her age. Her hide was a brilliant mix of scarlet and orange. As she stretched her newly-freed limbs the colors shifted like fire.

The little Orange turned and sized up the admiring man before her. Though he outdid her in size, she looked down upon him. She didn’t want to need him. O’sho was pleasantly surprised when she hopped forward importantly and scrambled up his arm. If she hadn’t liked him much she could’ve shot away to find some other person or gone into the wild, but apparently the Weyrleader wasn’t as distasteful to her as she had first put off. Once on his shoulder she made her demands vocal.

O’sho reached out gingerly with her mind to read the young Queen’s emotions. He was met with a fierce wave of pride and independence. She thrust these things forward and was insistent that they show, but underneath was hunger and a guarded warmness. Though her personality was controlled, her fiery hide and spirit sang strongly of someone else he knew. ”You remind me of my estranged weyrmate and her lovely Queen,” he said kindly. His heart was warmed when she rubbed her head against his cheek. ”Aren’t you darling. How did you get here, little dear?” She chirped and him and stared intently, waiting with a measured amount of patience. ”Of course, food,” he amended, heading towards the kitchen, moving carefully so as not to jostle her. ”I guess that means you’re riding with me now.” She rustled her wings impatiently as if to say ‘Of course.’ He chuckled. ”Then I think I’ll call you Fiera… after a friend of mine. She’ll like you quite a lot,” he said with a grin.