The Dragonriders of Pern® is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Wednesday, December 13th, 2000 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Pyrene.

Cadgwith's First Clutching

[Midmorning in the Living Cavern]

Pyrene slides in, stretching a little and yawning. She slept in. "Morning, Daeyn..." she murmurs, blearily snaffling juice, bread and butter.

Oorla walks in from the Central Bowl.

Oorla strides brightly in form the wamr, autumn air. "Morning, Daeyn, Pyrene," she says, nodding to each before snagging herself a fresh class of redfruitjuice and a couple of meatrolls. "How goes it?"

Daeyn offers a brief smile of greeting to Pyrene from where she perches on the edge of a table, sipping idly at cider ... klah? What's that? "Good day, Pyrene, Oorla." Even though someone's just told her it's morning, it's best not to assume. "It goes well enough ..."

Pyrene's head is tipped to one side, listening half-absently to her dragon as she eats and drinks. "Anwyllth's good then, I take it. Lo, Oorla."

Oorla lounges on one of the padded armchairs, nibbling at her meatrolls. "How's Cadge doing?" she asks curiously.

Lis ambles aimlessly in from the Central Bowl.

Pyrene shrugs one shoulder. "Alright... she's /very/ uncomfortable though. Poor dear..." Still, if one /must/ get pregnant. "Lis..." she greets the other greenrider. Look... her friends are here. Isn't that nice?

Daeyn sinks into her chair. "He's fine. Finally stopped mediating between my firelizard and Idalyn ..." Pyrene receives a smile that might be sympathy. "And Mrrdynth?" Must keep to the courtesies. Lis also gots a nod of greeting.

Oorla chuckles softly. "Oh, Mrrdynth's doing just fine right now." He is, too, or Oorla wouldn't be in such a cherry mood. "Hi-la Lis," she says with a grin as the greenrider comes in.

D'renn strides in from the Central Bowl.

Lis comes in with a decidedly gusty, romantic sigh - though it's quickly stifled as she sees company. "Pyrene! Oorla! Daeyn! D'renn!" she sings out to all of them, waving and grinning in greeting as she saunters towards the hearth in search of lunch - and creampuffs.

D'renn wanders on in to the caverns, pulling off his garish green gloves as he, too, wanders over to the hearth with a slightly more restrained greeting of "Morning..."

Oorla finishes her meatrolls and momentarily deflates before remembering that there are plenty more. Rather than continually restocking, she simply grabs a plate and piles them on. It isn't until she's returned to her place and taken a large bite that she notices D'renn. "Oh, 'Lo D'wenn," she says through a mouth full of meatroll.

Pyrene stares worriedly at Lis. Creampuffs again? That's /never/ a good sign... "Morning, Lis... D'renn... That's nice to know Oorla." Ahh the breakfast rush. Always interesting. She seats herself in a position to watch Lis and D'renn. Why? Because....

Daeyn cocks an eyebrow at Lis' entrance, but doesn't make any comment. "Good day Lis, D'renn." Still she evades the risk of time of day. She's wrong seventy percent of the time. Another sparing sip of cider is swallowed.

Lis is a greenrider - she's allowed to act silly without justification (it's in the fine print.) Putting together sandwhich bits from a wherry and slices of some sort of vegetable, she garnishes it with a handful of puffs before she shuffles over to Pyrene's table. "So how's everyone?" burbles the greenrider, peering at the rider of a mother-to-be. "Cadge doing alright?"

D'renn seems to be following Lis round, but it's probably just a coincidence. With a plate piled high with food - but no cream puffs - in one hand, and a mug of ale in the other, he thumps his behind into a chait near Oorla. Blueriding wingmates stick together, yep? "Cadgwith is fat."

Oorla eyes the Lis's sandwich with suspicious; creampuffs? Oh well, who's she to question a greenrider. They're odd, no question about that. Instead, she refocuses her attention on Pyrene, lifemate to the "fat" gold waiting on the sands.

Pyrene wrinkles her nose at Lis. "She's OK... finally got comfortable..." Pause. "Dropping off to sleep, I think..." She wrinkles her nose at D'renn. "So would you be if you had thirty eggs inside you!" Calm in her own position of righteousness, she settles with her food.

"Thirty?" D'renn asks, folding meat around bread - so what if it's not the traditional way round? "So the bets are on, Pyrene?"

Daeyn is naturally suspicious of coincidences. "Surviving, surviving," she offers softly. "And you, Lis?" She sighs lightly. "Sharded glad I'm not a dragon ..."

Oorla licks her fingers, then grabs another meatroll. "Thirty eggs inside D'renn? I don't even want to contemplate that."

"Pregnant, not fat." Lis corrects D'renn's choice of lightly, having some sort of odd sympathy for gestating females. "Oh, good for her, then." The sandwhich is munched on - without the creampuffs stuffed in it, Oorla - and she burbles up with her own number. "I'm sticking with twenty-three. Nice round number." By some form of logic, anyhow.

Oorla chuckles. Well, if we're taking bets.... "She has to have more than 23 eggs; she

"Twenty-three's a prime number, so not a very round number," D'renn corrects Lis, showing off his book-larning. Or something. "Hey, maybe primes are a good thing to go for.... I'll go with 29." And the meat and bread and now-sauce concoction's stuffed into D'renn's mouth.

Pyrene shrugs at D'renn. "Well, Bryth laid 37, so we don't need a big clutch. Plus it's her first. So I say anything above 20 will be good." She knows better than to take risks. "22. There were 22 in the clutch she hatched from." So it's a good number.

Oorla chuckles. Well, if we're taking bets.... "She has to have more than 23 eggs; she's huge! But not thrity. I'm going with....twenty-six." she says at last. Good even number."

Daeyn rolls her eyes skywards. "There isn't any statistical evidence that particular types of numbers are more common for laying, is there?" She shrugs and plants her elbows on the table and cups her chin in her hands ... odd since she's sitting on said table. "Twenty-seven. There's round for you."

Oorla looks stubbornly at Daeyn. "Twenty-six. Twenty-six is a much better nuber than twenty-seven. Everyone knows that." Well, she knows that anyway. And if she seems to think she's everyone, well, she's a bluerider. It's to be expected.

Liuea arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Aeuil arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Lis gives D'renn a delicate 'humph' as he deflates her flimsy logic, slipping from her sulk to peer enviously at his sandwich. "Ooh, that looks lovely, D'renn - could I have some?" There's just a hint of puppy eyes, but it should be enough... "Twenty three - I can /sense/ it," she declares authoratively, explaining that it's a 'mother' thing.

Tyara strides with feminine grace in from the Central Bowl.

"How many marks are we putting on this?" D'renn asks, having swallowed his food hastily. "Anyone know if R'sli's set up any bets yet? Or is that not allowed of a weyrlingmaster?" Bread gets put with meat and spicy sauce, sliced neatly into two halves, and passed without comment to Lis.

Merenya arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Pyrene makes careful notes. "I'll stick a mark on 22," she decides. "And then we have Lis with 23, Oorla 26, Daeyn 27, D'renn 29... and Tyara, Merenya, Liuea, Aeuil?" Greetings are now done in the form of requesting bets.

Merenya blinks and looks confused. "What are the numbers for, 'Rene?"

Oorla nods firmly. Yep, twnty-six is her bet, and she's sticking to it! She's right too. SHe just knows it. She has an instinct about these things.

Daeyn holds up her hands in a gesture of 'wait.' "Now, I don't place bets ... I'm not a betting woman ..." she demurs.

"I'll go with 28," Tyara states to Pyrene as she's enquired, quirking a brow at the ex-nanny. "Cadgwith looks fat enough to lay a double-clutch." With those encouraging words, the nanny sweeps to get a mug of klah, and then returns to sit down at a bratfree table.

Pyrene ohs at Merenya. "We're betting on the number of eggs Cadge'll lay... She's due any day now. Oh, c'mon Daeyn... you already said 27."

Daeyn rolls her shoulder in a shrug. "That was a guess, not a bet," she says mildly. "Anyone else is welcome to make it so."

Lis accepts D'renn's food with a warm word of thanks, using the opportunity to give the bluerider a beam before she's happily devouring the meat and all things upon it. "Mmm. De-ish-us," declares she, licking the sauce from the tips of her fingers for lack of a napkin. "'Ello Tya!" the greenrider calls warmly, waving.

Oorla fishes around in her pouch for marks. Where'd she put them? Hearing Daeyn's remarks, she rolls her eyes. "Just a guess, but if you don't put anything behind it, what's it worth?" She must know she's wrong, because Oorla is right. Yup. Twenty-six.

"Well, no-one's put any marks down yet...." D'renn points out to Daeyn, giving Tyara a vague wave of his new sandwich. "Do I get a creampuff, Lis?" he asks, eyes pleading.

"And 28... Tyara..." Pyrene scribbles. "Damn, I wish R'sli was here... he's so much quicker at this." She takes a mark from a purse and puts it on the table. "There's mine..." she says, eyes challenging the others to do the idiomatic thing and put their money where their mouth is.

"Personal satisfaction," Daeyn says evenly, tapping her fingers against her chin in meditative fashion. "Hello, Tyara." She just stares at the mark ... as if she could psych it out into retreating, or some such.

Tyara sends D'renn a slight glare, though her head does nod in a greeting. And could that even be a smile playing around her lips? "'llo, Lis." The greenrider gets a slightly warmer greeting, as does Daeyn, and then the nanny looks back at Pyrene. "We're betting /marks/?"

D'renn stands up and attempts to slide one hand into his trousers pocket. Does this look vaguely familiar? His fingers wiggle under the raspberry leather, but nothing's produced. "Damn, I'm sure I had a mark piece in there...."

Fingers fumble about the pouch until they finally lay hold on something substantial. "Ah ha!" Oorla exclaims, triumphantly bringing forth two rather sticky, cookie-crumby marks and placing them beside Pyrene's. "There."

Merenya gets some klah and seats herself. "I say twenty-eight."

"Of course," chirps Lis as she plucks the largest, most savoury-looking creampuff with her clean hand and holds it out towards D'renn - when he gets done with his pockets, of course. Eyeing Pyrene's mark, she fishes into one pocket - sensibly shallow so fingers can get at the mark easily. "There."

Pyrene raises her eyebrows at Tyara. "You think I'm betting sexual favours with D'renn? Renya... Tya's got 28, you'd only get half the pot." D'renn is eyed. "Have you had those same trousers for ten turns or is just me?"

D'renn takes the cream puff in his free hand with a wink at Lis, and minces sideways towards Pyrene with his hand still in his pocket. "I get new pairs every so often," he tells her. Yep, always raspberry. "Listen, Pyrene, do you think you could get this mark out of my pocket for me? I'll give you this cream puff?" Bribery /and/ corruption.

Tyara rolls her eyes at Pyrene. "I'd certainly hope not! It's enough that Lis does it for free," she remarks in a crisp voice, klah mug set aside as she searches her pockets for marks. "Here, then - even though I don't usually bet," the nanny states, tossing a mark piece in the goldrider's direction. "If I pay you two, will you exclude B'art from the sands?"

Pyrene stands suddenly, blinking before she focusses on D'renn. "Oh!" she gasps, widening her eyes as much as possible. "A cream puff all for me?? Just for putting my hand in your pocket! Why.. how could I refuse!" One hand is extended towards his pocket with un-nerving readiness.

Merenya scratches her shoulder. "Okay, what numbers aren't taken?"

Lis lets out a half-suppressed giggle at Pyrene, only to halve it dissolve into an outright cackle - quickly silenced as she catches herself. "Aww, Pyrene... You've thoroughly been corrupted," crows the greenrider, applauding quietly for her favorite goldrider.

D'renn extracts his own hand from his tight pocket, trying not to show his complete astonishment. And trying not to smirk, either. "You can call the same number as someone else," he calls to Merenya. "You just have to share the winnings... I think?"

Merenya grins and laughs. "Well that'd be silly. If I win, I want it all to myself!"

"Below 22, 24 and 25 and above 29," Pyrene tells Merenya helpfully before returning to study D'renn's pocket, breath held in apparent rapture. "Oh, D'renn... are you ready? It's my first time, y'know..." Batbatbat go those eyelashes.

Oorla blinks, eyeing D'renn and Pyrene. Is she really going to...? She never thought she'd see the day. Oh well, live and learn.

Merenya grins and sips her klah. "Well that's easy then. Twenty-seven."

D'renn gulps at Pyrene, tilting his hip towards her. "Erm... yeah... sure...." Glancing back towards Lis and the others, he seems to be needing encouragement himself.

Pyrene's fingers get closer and closer to D'renn's pocket... they're just inches away... now millimetres (to combine the metric and imperial system).... "Daeyn's got 27 I think..." she pauses to tell Merenya.

Tyara's eyebrows shoot up her forehead as she studies Pyrene and D'renn, klah mug momentarily forgotten. "I do hope he realizes the bet is over," the nanny tells Lis dryly, eyes nonetheless twinkling with a wicked amusement.

Oorla claps her hands over her mouth, trying desperately to stiffle the giggles that threaten to escape. Twenty-five odd turns, and she still giggles like a hyper brat.

Lis gives D'renn a broad wink and a suitably outrageous catcall from her corner, playing idly with a creampuff as she sits back to watch the show. "Oh, Tya, it's just worth it to see Pyrene's hand in his pants... pocket. Right." Freudian slip, anyone?

D'renn holds himself very still, glaring at Lis. Fat lot of good she is as moral support... "Awww, Tya, go on...." he begs her, mostly teasing.

"Hrm," Tyara states, though her mug is raised suspiciously quickly to cover the lower half of her face. "Well don't expect me to do you any favors just because Pyrene's head's swamped from all this proddiness," the nanny states, crossing her arms over her chest. No chance between.

Pyrene's hand reaches closer still, to the point that if she had hair on the tips of her fingers, they'd start standing on end at the proximity to D'renn's trous. And there it stops, as she suddenly tilts her head in apparent surprise. "What? Oh! Cadge needs me! On the sands... now!" And the hand is withdrawn. "Lis... Tya? You grab D'renn's mark for me?" And snagging a cream puff from the tray, she smirks at D'renn before sashaying out.

Pyrene exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

"Do you know what?" D'renn asks the caverns at large, retreating to his table and his ale mug for a long, thankful drink before he continues. "My faith in human nature has just been restored... I couldn't believe Pyrene would ever...."

Oorla blinks as Pyrene quickly retrats. "Oy! Cadge is clutching?!?!" That means she's about to win the bet. Hurridly, she follows after Pyrene, determined to get a front row seat.

Aw... Lis is perfectly good moral support - of the immoral kind. Pouting at the glare she recieved, the greenrider squeaks after the disappearing weyrwoman. "Pyrene! That was cheap!" Oh, the injustice. "Evil goldrider," declares Alymath's rider with more than a hint of her sulk in her voice.

"Saved by the fat gold," Tyara comments to Lis as she jumps out of her chair, intent on following Pyrene and her queen. "You should praise yourself lucky she never got her hands on you, D'renn," the nanny snickers, snagging her mug of klah before whisking out of the caverns.

Tyara exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

D'renn bounces back to his feet. "Well, Lis, could you get this damn mark out of my pocket for me?" he begs. "I dunno if Cadgwith's about to pop, but if she is, I need to lay my bet now."

Oorla exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

Pyrene did, of course, take her mark before she went.

Kori arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Kori exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

"Sure," Lis assures the tight-pants-wearing bluerider without so much as an eye blink, wandering over to wiggle fingers into a raspberry pocket with a sigh. "Really, D'renn, you shouldn't put your marks so far down - or did I miss it?" On purpose?

D'renn wiggles a little as Lis' hand goes lower. "Mind it... no, it's definitely in there - not my fault if they creep down." Really. It isn't. He swigs back some ale hastily, shuffling some more.

[Meanwhile, on the Sands...]

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

Cadgwith paces--well, waddles--in an awkward circle, tail washing a swathe behind her. Pyrene dances nervously around her dragon, managing not get trodden on by sheer luck and completely oblivious to the Stands. "You're doing fine... calm down... They're soft when they come out... Won't hurt much..."

From the Galleries, Kori wanders in, prodded by rumours of clutchings and eggs. This little 'brat doesn't want to miss a thing. Finding an empty seat near enough to the action that she can see clearly, but far enough back so that she doesn't bear the brunt of the worst of the Sands' heat, she settles in for an evening of impatient waiting and blinding speculation.

From the Galleries, Kazul zips from the cold blackness of ::between::!

In the living cavern, The temptation to make D'renn wiggle further is hard to resist, but Lis manages to restrain herself and track down the shy mark. "Ah! There," she states triumphantly, managing to slide it between two fingers and not get her hand stuck pulling it out. Grabbing a creampuff for the road, she presents the mark with a flourish. "Now hurry, or we'll miss it!"

In the living cavern, "She /is/ clutching?" D'renn wriggles his hips again, for whatever reason, and grabs his ale mug. "Off we go then...." Egg time!

In the living cavern, Lis exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

In the living cavern, D'renn exchanges the protection of stone for the bowl outside.

From the Galleries, Kazul zips into the cold blackness of ::between::!

From the Galleries, D'renn comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Lis comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Magentica swiftly and delicately comes from ::between::!

From the Galleries, D'renn trots in, clutching his mug and walking just a little bit strangely. "Lis, what /did/ you do to my leathers?" he demands, dropping into a spot next to Oorla.

Cadgwith finally swings her head at her rider, nudging her gently out of the way. Pyrene backs carefully standsward, rolling her eyes up at the others. IT's hot down here. She raises her mark and calls "22!" even as Cadge settles herself down to the ground....

From the Galleries, Frist blinks in from ::between::!

From the Galleries, Magentica chirps a friendly hello to Frist!

From the Galleries, Oorla fixes her violet eyes on Cadgwith, watching intently. "Twenty-Six!" is all she'll say, and she's dead certain of it.

Cadgwith grunts a little, soulful eyes upon her rider, but she sets herself to laying with resolution. A ripple of movement on her hindquarters and she gets up, turning around to stare at the egg. Look at that. It worked.

From the Galleries, "I didn't do /anything/ to your leathers!" Lis protests, using the event as an excuse to peer over at D'renn's pocket region. "Why, is there a hole? Or is the pocket all bunched up." The greenrider's got other theories, too, about why the bluerider's walking oddly. "Twenty-threee!" Lis yells back down to Pyrene. Hah.

From the Galleries, "Lis, where's my mark?" D'renn demands of the greenrider, calling down "29!" and then "Oooooh!" First egg.

Discoloured Carpet Mess Egg
Rancid, rotton odors seep in technicolor from the lurid puce of this six-year-old's distate, cringingly spilled on a more temperate foundation of woven, blue-green tweeds. There's a distinctly permenant air to this writhing mass of regurgitated hues, and it lingers unpleasantly in lump-studded silence.

From the Galleries, Oorla blinks as the first egg appears. Wow. That was so sudden. And it's so....attractive. Yeah. Very nice. Really.

From the Galleries, Oren moves heavily in from ::between::, silver claws gleaming!

Pyrene applauds with relief. "It's perfect," she calls to Cadgwith, running over to check it carefully. The.... odd colouration is ignored as she goes into raptures over it. Cadge croons happily at her rider before wandering around the sands again, Pyrene hastening back to her safe spot.

From the Galleries, "Perfect?" D'renn overhears Pyrene's comment, and snorts. "It's revolting!" he yells down to the goldrider, half out of his seat. Yep, he's there for one reason only, and that's to heckle.

From the Galleries, Oorla snickers at D'renn's apt description of the egg. "Oh, it isn't /that/ bad," she remarks, though there is a heavy dose of sarcasm in her tone.

Having made her first mess on the sands, Cadgwith grows ambitious. Again she lowers herself to the sands--with a hair-raising bugle for all hecklers, D'renn--and this time she rises to reveal two eggs... one non-descript and the other...

Broccoli Forest Egg
A creamy surge of gold-laced yellow lingers in dripping tone to mantle the darkened green of a smallish shell. Beneath it all is a soft-fringed mass of forest-hued beadlets, and starker, tougher stalking lime. Something vaguely gross seeps in aura, however, stringing illogically from one lone child's frown.

From the Galleries, Lis provides D'renn with the troublesome mark, shushing him out of - dubious - respect to Pyrene, settling down next to him. "It's only Cadge's first clutch - first egg, too. Maybe the new ones'll be prettier." And it is... in a way.

From the Galleries, "No such luck," D'renn groans, subsiding back into his seat next to Lis. "But there's always the other 27."

From the Galleries, Oorla oohs at the next two eggs. "Now those aren't so bad. Anf it's the next twenty-/three/ D'renn. She's going to have twenty-six in all."

Cadgwith appears to be getting into her stride now, laying a couple more and blinking proudly at the Sands. Behold. Her Eggs. Her First. Behold and Tremble.

From the Galleries, The Weyr trembles.

From the Galleries, *Tremble-Tremble*

From the Galleries, Lis puts in quietly that it's the next /twenty/ before offering D'renn what's left of her creampuff politely - she saved the best, carmelized part. "Ooh," she comments in fascinated disgust as the eggs simply pop out, commenting wistfully, "If only giving birth were that easy..."

From the Galleries, "She's up to five. Only twenty-one more to go," Oorla says with a grin. "And they're getting better. Maybe she just needed more practice?" Like practicing laying eggs is going to make them any prettier. Oorla logic.

Pyrene bounces, partly from exultation and partly from the heat. Oof. A glance is flicked to the Stands, lips moving as she keeps track of bets, and other comments. "Babies aren't smart enough to be born soft and harden later," she calls facetiously up to Lis.

From the Galleries, D'renn shakes his head at Lis. "Nah, you eat it, dear... and you're right. You and Quara screamed a lot more when you were giving birth." D'renn's opinion on this seems to fit with everyone else's.

Cadgwith settles down against the sands again, resting for longer upon them this time. Apparently she's not bothered by the heat--not even in that presumably tender area. Up again... and just one egg this time.

Burnt Roast Beef Egg
Hearty, heavy browns meld into a single gravy'd swirl starting at apex to flow down the sides, rich and flavorful in a variety of hues. Every end of the spectrum melds at last near the bottom, however, twining into a single shade of charred and darkened black, acrid and humor-dry. Oops?

From the Galleries, As the sixth egg pops into existance, Oorla smiles in approval. "Very nice Cadge!" she calls over the edge. Well, all expect that first one. We won't talk about that one.

From the Galleries, Lis grins quietly to herself as she crunches the end of the creampuff, swallowing to call to Pyrene: "I hope you have triplets, Py!" Slumping in her seat, she wrinkles her nose at yet another unsavoury egg - and another unsavoury memory. "That's because it hurt /quite/ a lot, D'renn-darling. Babies are a lot harder to finish then start."

Pyrene shudders at Lis' comment. However inconceivable (literally) that is, it's still not worth thinking about. "2... 5... 6?" she mutters, trying to figure it out. "You're doing beautifully Cadge!" That she's sure of at least.

From the Galleries, Oorla eyes Lis thoughfully. Personally, she wouldn't know what having babies was like. But from the screams of others, she knows that she doesn't really want to find out any time soon.

From the Galleries, "Starting's kinda fun," D'renn replies absently to Lis... realising then what he said, and snickering. "Oh yeah.... Well, that one was better, Pyrene!" he heckles down. "Though considering the standard so far..."

Cadgwith does a victory lap of her eggs so far, flicking sand over some and piling it up against others affectionately. Aren't they pretty? Her babies. She gazes up to the Stands as if to make sure they're paying attention.

"You want to come down here and see if you can do any better?" Pyrene heckles right back. "Don't you listen to him, Cadge... they're /all/ gorgeous."

From the Galleries, Lis gives D'renn a light nudge with one elbow for his comment, catching a bit of the infections snicker herself as she watches Pyrene call back. "Don't listen to him, Pyrene - they're darling." Just... unconventional.

Cadgwith doesnt' listen then, her eyes instead fixing lovingly on her rider before she blinks as the next two eggs follow in short order.

Tasteless Tofu Egg
Bland and banal, off-white lumpiness claims this egg in an up-beat utopian manner, fragile-seeming and slipper-shiny. Nothing really soils that color, alas, the eye is unamused and unbeguiled by illusions and imagery; it's all dull and all the same...and the faintest bitter blend of queasy gray lingers on.

Sloppy Gloppy Goulash Egg!
Oozing globs of yellow cheesey goop seep down the sides of this lumpy mass. Oodles of noodly stuuf peer out from underneith the writhing mass, only be sucked under once again. Dribbles of sauce drizzle around the edges of this ever shifting conglomeration, looking almost good enough to eat. Almost.

From the Galleries, "Now those..." D'renn eyes the latest eggs, "are revolting. Just what I'd expect from something as ugly as Cadgwith with a lifemate as....." D'renn stops himself just in time.

From the Galleries, Teric comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Oorla dubiously eyes the next two egs to make their appearance. "Er...they're very lovely Pyrene. Really. Very nice. Never seen anything so lovely in my life..." She's babbling, but at least she's trying to sound sincire.

Pyrene forgets Cadgwith to stare angrily up at D'renn. "There is a labouring mother down here, and that's /all/ the support you can give her??? They are not ugly, she is /beautiful/, and if you have any quibble with me, we can take it up later." When Pyrene is armed with her flamethrower.

From the Galleries, Kori eyes the eggs with a mild amount of shock. There's nothing that says dragon eggs should be beautiful, but shouldn't they be mildly appealing. "Urm," is all the girl can say, after all, she's been taught that if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

From the Galleries, Bubbly comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Aeuil comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, D'renn doesn't seem too worried, leaning over the railing to nod at Pyrene. "Sure thing.... later... no problem....." Really. "She is so, ugly," the bluerider mutters, dropping into his seat once more. "But then, she is Tiareth's...."

Perhaps Cadge is starting get affected by all those calls from the ledges. At any rate, her pacing seems to take on a new shade of determination and again she settles down. This time as she rises, she peers at the shell herself first before moving aside in satisfaction.

Freshed Baked Bread Egg
Soft, warm, and the perfect shade of golden brown, this egg is really a delight to behold. Pleasent, soothing aromas waft gently from the glowing exterior, and a slick, buttery sheen embraces and dazzles on the delicate shell.

From the Galleries, At that, Oorla turns on D'renn, looking furious. Bluerider, wingmate, none of that matters. "Mrrdynth is /also/ Tiareth's," she says cooly. "Just what exactly are you implying here?"

From the Galleries, Kinecha comes up the stairs.

Pyrene looks anxiously at that next egg then relaxes. Nothing wrong with that one now, is there? She casts a smug glance to the galleries. Hah.

From the Galleries, Oorla doesn't notice the latest addition to Cadge's clutch, rather, she awaits a reply from D'renn. "Well....?" she asks, her voice dangerously cold.

From the Galleries, Frist hops about excitedly....he seems to like this egg for some reason...

From the Galleries, "Nothing, nothing, nothing...." D'renn hastens to placate Oorla. And probably fails. "Oooh, that new one's nice.. the nicest yet...." Not that he's about to tell Pyrene so.

From the Galleries, Kori adds her own sigh of relief and nods, now that's a lovely egg there. "I like /that/ one," the 'brat calls out with an honesty only children and blueriders possess.

Having catered to the masses, Cadgwith resumes clutching the eggs her way. Three more eggs appear in quick succession. Two are almost instantly covered in sand, the third rolls out of the way and lies dully nearby.

Lurid, Lumpy Mashed Potatoes Egg
The dull, lumpy shell, which can't even be said to be properly white, looks as though a dragon sat on it. Or something. At anyrate, it looks squashed. Thicker and bumpier in some places than others, and decorated in off white, it's hardly the most attractive egg in the bunch. The only trait of any interest on this mishapen landscape is the drizzle of yellow that slowly oozes into torpid pools.

From the Galleries, D'renn's honesty is insulting, most of the time. "Ick. Did Cadgwith sit on that one already?"

From the Galleries, Oorla doesn't look at the next eggs either. She just sits and glares at D'renn, silently fuming. Oh, if he knew what was going through her head right now, he'd be afraid to go to sleep at night...

Pyrene has good hearing. Comes from nannying. She hears both the compliment and the insult and calls sweetly back: "Why? Remind you of Trydanth's egg or something?" Being sat upon is surely the only explanation for Trydanth picking D'renn of all the candidates.

From the Galleries, Teric quickly walks up the stairs and sits in an empty space on a gallery bench, his excited face turned back to the sands.

From the Galleries, Swagger-Swagger. Swagger? Sw'ger, Swayth's rider, swaggers in. Leer. Beam. Egg-watching. "Ooo."

From the Galleries, The Weyr trembles at the squashed egg.

From the Galleries, Bubbly flits about excitedly watching and staring and having a grand ol' time.

From the Galleries, Kinecha takes off her jacket as she sits at a free space in the Galleries. Why hadn't anyone come wake her, to tell her there was a clutching going on. Not even her sleepy little green lizard had roused her.

From the Galleries, "There was nothing wrong with Trydanth's egg. Except that it was laid by the dragon of that daft" - D'renn pauses to swear under his breath - "Adel who went missing Turns back." So there. "And, Mrrdynth's fine, Oorla. He's blue. He's Zephyr."

From the Galleries, Melsa has disconnected.
From the Galleries, Melissa curls up and goes to sleep.

Cadgwith is proud of her clutch even if D'renn and other unimportant people aren't. A low croon goes out, as she practices being maternal. Oooh. She likes this. She scours a place clear with her tail and deposits three eggs in it. All of them charming, thank-you.

Salmon Roe Sushi Egg
Orange-red fire lashes a transluescent film in bubble-fragile glory, iridescent and still monochromed somehow. A smallish egg in all respects, it tilts in an oblong huddle in its hollow, banded only by a silver-shiny slash of seaweed green and black.

The Last Can Of Hoo Hash Egg
Lonely, so lonely, it is the only egg of its kind. It is held into rigid, cylindrical perfection, and steely glints of hard silver peeking out neath the garish, colorful label. Though completely inanimate, it has an aura of self-importance and anticipation of upcoming festivities. Only someone with no heart would desire to separate this egg from the cache where it belongs.

Got Milk? Egg
Serene as can be, this masterpiece of liquid mother-of-pearl. Smooth, gentle, creamy whiteness flows lightly around the even surface, deftly quenching the sticky thirst of its surroundings. Cool, pure milky whorls form and swush around the refreshing surface, calling, beckoning, tantalizing all who gaze upon it. A river, and ocean, a tidal wave of frothy cream resonates from the gentle, even shell to your heart and mind, leaving no thoughts in your head but one: Got This Egg?

From the Galleries, Teric goes home.

From the Galleries, Oorla glares and says nothing, but at least she returns her attention to the clutch. Wow, lot's more eggs since she quit watching. Squashed...nice...pretty...interesting. "Not bad."

From the Galleries, D'renn likes the reddish one, and shouts down to Pyrene this time to say so. "Hey, that little one's good..... definitely Cadgwith's...."

Pyrene swells proudly over the latest eggs, but is deflated by d'renn's shout. "What's /that/ supposed to mean?" she yells back up suspiciously. Not that she distrusts D'renn or anything... Much.

From the Galleries, "Just...." D'renn waggles both hands in the air, and gives up, sitting back next to Lis. And edged slightly away from Oorla - he doesn't trust her anymore.

From the Galleries, Lis has been quietly snickering to herself at the exchange between D'renn and half the riders - namely, Pyrene and Oorla - and playing with a thread at the seam of her pants. "That last one was quiet pretty, though... I hope something nice hatches out." Not like a two-headed blue.

From the Galleries, A tw-headed blue?!?!?

From the Galleries, Aruna comes up the stairs.

Cadgwith happily wends her way among her eggs, performing her own dance of the Hatching Sands. More are added to the growing collection: one here, one there, two in this nice gap /here/, oh, and let's have one in this corner too.

From the Galleries, "Bet she gathers 'em all into one pile afterwards," D'renn remarks sagely, leaning a bit towards Lis. Just because. "What sort of nice thing would you like to hatch out, Lis dear?"

From the Galleries, An evil grin spreads across Oorla's face as D'renn edges away from her. Teach him to insult her lifemate! "Wow, Cadge has gone into overtime," she comments.

From the Galleries, Magentica swiftly and delicately disappears into ::between::!

From the Galleries, Aruna slilently slips a flit from her shoulder down to her arm as she makes her way slowly down the steps. A smile and respectful nod is given to the dragonriders and weyrfolk as the woman heads her way to an empty seat. Eggs are examined carefully with whirling eyes, rather interested in her first clutching to be seen...

Pyrene is beginning to get tired. "You nearly done yet," she asks her dragon hopefully. "That's how many now... 20? 21? 21." Just lay one more and then Pyrene will win her bet.

From the Galleries, Lis leans back in towards D'renn, taking advantage while she can - Alymath would be proud. "Well, can't ever have too many greens," suggest the rider of said color quiet biasedly, peering down at the eggs with a frown. "Oh, dear. She doesn't look like she's stopping, does she? And we're getting up there..."

Cadgwith /is/ slowing, but she's by no means finished. The 22nd duly arrives, is buried and then she moves straight onto the 23rd. Sorry, Pyrene.

Bologna Sandwich Egg
A thick slab of rich, meaty pink seems nestled between two spongier bits of bread-brown fluff, forming a wonderfully compact, grab and go egg. Here and there, dabs of white and yellow peep out from between the cunningly layered shell, as though it were thrown together at the last minute, but for all that, it looks no less enticing.

Frog Eye Salad Egg
A hint of creamy white, a trace of delicate orange, and lots and lots and lots of transparent little lumps are what characterize this interesting egg. Lumps here, bumps there, lumps and bumps everywhere! A veritable army of little lumps are cuddled among the smooth orange and white nest, conspicuously emphasizing these colors with their crystalline, spherical forms.

From the Galleries, Llewellyn comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Oorla grins as the next two eggs appear. "Sorry Pyrene, looks like you lost that one!" And her own dragon even. "Lovely egg, though." Only three more to go, and Oorla will have won!

Pyrene sighs and says goodbye to her mark, raising her eyes to the galleries. "Just don't get to 29, love," she murmurs to the dragon. "If d'renn wins, he'll be insufferable."

Cadgwith blinks inscrutably at her rider, and then yawns cavernously. She's /tired/, And hot. But she continues, her pace definitely slower now, but even so... Lis isn't going to win the bet either.

Frog Eye Salad Egg
A hint of creamy white, a trace of delicate orange, and lots and lots and lots of transparent little lumps are what characterize this interesting egg. Lumps here, bumps there, lumps and bumps everywhere! A veritable army of little lumps are cuddled among the smooth orange and white nest, conspicuously emphasizing these colors with their crystalline, spherical forms.

From the Galleries, Now the Weyr /really/ trembles!

Pyrene studies that last. "That's interesting, Cadge..." she rather likes it, in her own weird way. "24... Nobody bet on 24 did they? C'mon... get to one somebody bet on, Cadge dear." Otherwise it just wouldn't be worth it.

From the Galleries, July comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Oorla grins at this next egg. "Neat. I kinda like it." Interesting egg, but she's seen worse. Lot's worse. "Good job Cadge!" she calls, before mentally tallying the eggs again. Only two more. Only two more and she'll win!

Cadgwith will try, really she will. There's a longer pause as she rests from her labours, her sides heaving but not with a contraction. Finally she raises herself again and walks across the sands to deposit another egg. And then back to where started to deposit another. The 26th. And then she.... stops?

Fresh Vegetable Tray Egg
Bright, fresh, cool, and wonderful! Rich veins of iceberg green weave to and fro across the crisp surface, forming a glowing base myriad splashes of color. Bright, crimson orbs rest securely between the feathery leaves of green, and strands of rich, royal purple fall haphazardly about the brilliant shell. Shreds of vivid orange are boldly scattered about, and droplets of creamy white, speckled with saucy green slide easily between the showy displays of color.

From the Galleries, "Aw..." The little, mournful sound comes from Lis as Cadgwith skips right past 23, the greenrider consoling herself with the fact that it means another new dragon, which is always good. At least now she can relax about counting and focus her efforts on flirting with D'renn.

Pyrene tips her head and studies the tired gold. "Cadge? Are you done? Is that it? 26?" She grins suddenly. "Oh my dear... that's wonderful! 26 eggs for a first clutch! That's more than both Bryth and Chayath you know!" Not that she's competitive.

From the Galleries, Twenty-six? Twenty-six! And Cadge has stopped! "Yes! I win! I win! I am so right!" Oorla lives for moments like these, when she can gloat and let others know just how right she is. "Thank you Cadge! You are the best dragon on Pern!" Of course, she'd say that to any dragon that just won a bet for her.

From the Galleries, Chasez blinks in from ::between::!

But wait! Cadge's head raises and she gives her rider one last mournful look before heaving herself to her feet again. The somewhat shrunken gold strides carefully over to a blank corner of the sands and deposits one more egg, before finally lowering herself down nearby her clutch. There. And /that's/ the last.

Burger, Fries, and a Soft Drink Egg
Fizzy bubbles cheerfully gurgle up from their grease-soaked habitat. Hastily, carelessly assembled, this mess of brown, tan, and red looks as though it may fall apart at any minute. It sure doesn't look like the eggs you normally see advertised about the weyr. Maybe Cadge should demand a refund.

From the Galleries, Bubbly swoops about ecstaticly and croons a congratulations to Cadgwith for such a nice large clutch.

Pyrene ohs and steps back before breaking into a yet wider grin. "27!" her voice rings exultantly as she dashes over to hug Cadge's knobbly nose. "Oh, love, that's brilliant! Just wonderful! And I bet that hardly /any/ of them are blue!"

From the Galleries, What? Twenty-/seven/? "Nooooooooooooo!" Where did that last egg come from? It's a fake, surely, clevery put in place by someone who wanted to thwart her. "But...but there /should/ have been twenty-six," she mumbles, turning scarlet. Okay, now she looks /really/ stupid after her previous outburst. Oh dear. [Oorla]

From the Galleries, Esmera comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, Kori lets out a sigh a relief, twenty-seven. Nose wrinkles at the newest additions, but she's not too picky. Eggs are eggs. Rising and stretching her relief at the end of the process, she glances around towards the adults. Yup, normal behavior in the day and the life of the Weyr.

Cadgwith croons gently back at Pyrene, slowly wriggling her way through the sands to curl around the greater part of her clutch. Aren't they pretty? She's proud, and that's all that matters.

From the Galleries, Lis perks up as that final egg hatches, only be greeted with another odious shade of brown. Yum. "Mmmph. Twenty seven it is... And Daeyn didn't bet, either." There's a sigh of lament, and the loose thread at the seam of her pants recieves temporary attention.

From the Galleries, Oorla looks at the eggs, a growing depression threatening to engulf her. She just made an idiot of herself in front of the entire weyr. Ooh. "I hope they're all blues!" she mutters, for lack of any other means of comfort.

From the Galleries, Kitryo comes up the stairs.

Pyrene snuggles next to her dragon, oblivious to heat (the fact that she's sitting on Cadge's shoulder helps) and muttering away to do her blithely. "27... I told Daeyn she should have bet. Still... D'renn lost. Tht's good."

From the Galleries, July peers down at her growling stomache. "Bleh," she mutters to Aruna. "This really isn't helping me any."

From the Galleries, Loren comes up the stairs.

From the Galleries, "Twenty-seven," sighs Lis again, hefting herself up from her seat as she returns home by way of the brat caves, to pick up children dropped off after a morning of sweeps and errands. Fingers waggle after this or that person, and then the greenrider's gone.

From the Galleries, Lis goes home.