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Logfile from Gideon
26. November 2000
Hiliza shakes her head, "Oh, I don't think they'll care.. but it would still be nice..." She shrugs, fully this time, "Well, I haven't seen the eggs in a long time..." And who would look for a Candidate near the /eggs/? Of all places. Right.
Pemeron shucks his tunic and puts on a fresh one "What are you talking about?" he asks, looking at Hiliza.
Tatoria twists her head, glancing at Hiliza over her shoulder. "The eggs? I haven't gotten to see them at /all/ yet." Poor Tat. Don't you feel sorry for her? Another wiggle of her foot and the boot's on firmly, though she doesn't bother to bend to pull the laces tight. With a quick glance at Gideon, and a quicker one in Pemeron's direction, she runs a hand through her tangeled hair. "We could always cart brooms up to the galleries so we /look/ like we're cleaning..."
Hiliza blinks, first toward Pemmy with a ,"Where to go to," and then at Tatoria, "Haven't seen them at all? And yea.. that would be a good idea..." She grins, and then looks at the others, "Care to join us?"
Gideon grins and just shrugs slightly before pulling his shirt over his head, reaching for a small box of some sort from which he takes a clean one, slipping his arms through. "You guys want to go see the eggs?" he asks curiously, tying the shirt front.
Pemeron listens intently "Not highly likely." he says toward Tatoria "If we all go at the same time, they will assume we have been called there, so we should be safe." And to Hiliza "I saw them, but I would love to join you." He doesn't mention that he actually got to touch some of them.
"So there's safety in mass numbers and brooms?" Tatoria intones, grinning as she sweeps her hair - still tangeled, of course - into a low pony-tail. "Should we go, then? Grab brooms from the closet on our way up?"
Pemeron snorts "And get duty for stealing brooms? I don't think so." he turns back to his press and pulls something out, fingering it a moment and then puting it back, locking it when he has finished.
Hiliza nods and stretches, "Well then, let's go?" Happiness laces the edges of her chit-chatty voice. Hair is given a once over and she's ready. Big smiles, "Yep. I actually have a broom," Which she fishes out from underneath the horror of her cot, "I brought it with me with Nuff brought me.. and she said I could keep it..." So Hiliza did, just because she could. Facefault everyone.. if you can.
"I'm in for it," Gideon says, rolling dark sleeves up to his elbows before grabbing his boots. "But no brooms for me, I've done more than my share of chores today." He pulls on both boots before closing his traveling case and shoves it under his bed.
"I really don't think they're going to accuse us of stealing /brooms/" Tatoria remarks quickly, frown creeping into place. "After all, we /are/ the weyr's cleaning force for the next several sevendays." A quick shrug and she starts toward the door. "But if /you/ want to risk it..." A broom is spotted leaning in one corner, and she quickly claims it, tossing a grin toward Hiliza.
Gideon carefully laces up his boots, then sits up grinning at Pemeron. "What do you say, brooms or no brooms?"
Hiliza leans on the wall by the door and waits for everyone else, quiet but glowing in that terribly chipper way she has. Glooooow.
Pemeron snorts "I just finished sweeping with Caylea, and have had enough of sweeping." He turns to the door.
Tatoria offers one more shrug, hefts her broom a bit more firmly, and disappears through the door.
Tatoria slips back out to the caverns.
Gideon stands and slips a belt around his waist. "Alright then, to the sands!"
Back out into the bustling world of the caverns you go.
Inner Caverns
Ancient caverns unfold in an endless maze of tunnels and stairs, the Weyr's cavities a labyrinth to the uninitiated. Here, trimmed by the last of the stone cutters, arched walls and vaulted ceilings retain the soapy smoothness of well-worn stone, as do the endless tunnel floors kept clear and tidy. Shadows creep and flicker across these glowlit mountain walls, creatures of non-light wending their way east to the main caverns and bowl, or branching out in a web of caves to the Weyr's living spaces.
Shadowed on stone-smooth ledge are Pix, Turk, Ivan, Mercury, and Oren.
You see Delphin and Fantastic Triple Layer Bubbly Surprise here.
Tatoria is here.
Obvious exits:
Living Caverns - Guests' Quarters - Hallway - Dorms - Candidate Barracks - Baths - Brat Cave - Infirmary
Tatoria
A slight girl who stands shorter than most her age watches the world through a pair of deep green eyes. The right is marked by a fleck of gold near the pupil that catches the light at odd moments. Her face, almost heart-shaped, is framed by a thick curtain of deep red hair which falls smooth and straight to her waist on good days and flies in her eyes in tangles on bad ones. Her skin is pale, almost white in some lights, and darkens only to an unusual shade of red when exposed to the sun's light for too long. Her nose and lips both tend to be a little on the thin side - she'd call them 'delicate' - but she manages to hide this fact most of the time with a bright smile. Nestled in the hollow of her throat is a cloudy purple stone, oblong in shape, that is held in place by the many tendrils of silver that curl around it. A thin silver chain circles her neck and threads through the topmost tendril.
A simply-cut dress the color of newly budded leaves cloaks Tatoria's figure. The skirt is full, swishing pleasantly with every motion she makes and ends just above her ankles to show off a pair of soft brown ankle boots. Forest green thread dances around the neckline and wrists in embroidered curves and swirls, the dress's only ornament. The sleeves run the length of her arms to end just above her wrists, and the neckline curves just below the hollow of her throat. Verlege is sitting perched on Tatoria's shoulder, his tail not quite managing to wrap around her neck.
Plain. White. That about sums up the knot that rests on Tatoria's shoulder, declaring in its brightness that she's a High Reaches Candidate.
She is awake and looks alert.
Tatoria is 17 Turns, 8 months, and 13 days old.
Pemeron slips the relative safety of the Candidates' barracks.
Tatoria continues on into the large living caverns.
Gideon
Gideon appears at first glance to be quite calm and collected, though a mischievous gleam seems to tint his baby blue eyes from time to time. He shows signs of growing into what is now a somewhat lanky build, standing at 5' 11'', but many Turns of hard work have helped his shoulders to fill out considerably, along with his arms and hands. His legs however are still the wiry limbs of his youth, which he'll probably never lose. His sandy blond hair is kept quite clean but seems to have been forgotten lately, small tufts beginning to grow past his ears, managing to look a bit tousled at times. The calmness of his eyes makes up for that, however, clear and blue as the summer sky over High Reaches.
Gideon wears a deep blue, short-sleeved shirt that appears to be new. A light, somewhat faded, dark brown wherhide vest covers that, two deep pockets on either side. He is also wearing rather light weight black pants, also well-adorned with deep pockets, that are tucked into black, mid-calf, wherhide boots. He wears a thick, black, wherhide belt around his waist. A small dark wherhide bag hangs from his left hip. Accutely alert, bronze Rei watches from Gideon's shoulder.
At Gideon's shoulder is... nothing! Eyes wandering down... farther... ah, there it is. The gleaming white knot of a Candidate encircles Gideon's leg, slightly above the left knee. It is beginning to show a bit of wear and tear, but it's still clean.
He is awake and looks alert.
Gideon is 19 Turns, 11 months, and 16 days old.
Pemeron
Short, stocky and well built, with a narrow waist and short legs, his muscles hide within a solid layer of pudge. Dark brown hair and faded green eyes are his most noticeable feature, while his ample nose and thin lips drop a bit to his round chin. A thick neck holds his round face on his shoulders, which are wide but not overly so, and his barrel chest makes him seem larger than he is. His strong arms end in large hands with short stubby fingers.
A dark jade, long sleeve tunic hangs loosely on his frame, trimmed neatly with a black leather patchwork at the collar and at the elbows, cinched at the waist with a dark brown rope, frays and tears masked by carefull stitchwork at the hem. Deep klah trous are creased at front and back with patches at the knees and a threadbare backside, carefully hidden by the tunic, while the cuffs are tucked into a pair of mid-calf, worn black boots, with lacing up the front tied in a short knot. Perched on Pemeron's shoulder is Impremo.
Dull white is twisted in a single chorded loop.
He is awake and looks alert.
Pemeron is 18 Turns, 2 months, and 4 days old.
Night or day, Klah can always be found warming on the High Reaches Hearth...
Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Tucked into a glowlit niche are Donnan, Searcher, Quenn, Tiramisu, Gyo, Heaven, Hunter, Kelpie, Aftiel, Nyumnyum, Ebb, Mamoru, Rude, Freak, Truro, Boingy, Tork, Spoingy, Boink, Endel, Spuds, Leviathan, Ashleigh, Lava, Sociopathe, Heero, BronzeMaleFirelizard, Archimedes, Pyre, Rhiannon, Vincent, Kinky, Celta, Poldhu, Valor, Vsevolod, Fish, Ozu-Zarkh, and Auroriel.
You see Old Auntie sit-by-the-fire, OOC NOTICE (look sign), Boots, Hobbes, Nimbus, Generic Sign-Up Sheet, Kageri, and Gigi here.
Kinecha, Skylark, Merenya, Tatoria, and Hiliza are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl - Kitchens - Inner Caverns - Crafting Area
Tatoria looks like a girl with a purpose - a carefully projected image, indeed. Note the broom she holds? Note the quick stride? Think she's off to do chores? Well, that's what she wants you to think, anyway.
Hiliza
This young woman is short, not distinctively so, but still short enough to be considered short. Being of average beauty, she has an oval shaped face with a sharp nose, a strong chin, and thin, pale rosy lips. Oft times her fern green eyes will sparkle with golden or light brown flecks. Her lashes are thick and dark, falling quite sort of reaching thin, expressive eyebrows. Her skin is a naturally very pale, which contrasts with the raven black of her hair. Two even sections of it hang just past her shoulders while the rest of her hair is just about as long as her shoulders. She is built with very almost no curves, and it's evident that she'll never be very buxom or have much flesh on her hips at all, not that she's complaining.
Soft, light fabric drapes around Hiliza in vibrant greens. Loose green sleeves slide down her arms, jangling with tiny bells circling the end of each sleeve. Scooped neckline is decorated with white diamond shaped embroidery. Bodice is loose like all, and undecorated save princess seems. Hemline reaches to mid-thigh, meeting black boots that shine and have more bells tinkling at the ends of their laces. On each forearm lies white cloth, wrapped up and around like bandages but merely for decoration. On her finger is a ring, a gift from her sister. Snuggled on top of Hiliza's bag is Yukimiko. Saihitei peers almost smugly from the relative comfort of Hiliza's shoulder, opposite Kishuku. Kishuku peers protectively from Hiliza's shoulder.
Not on her shoulder, but instead around her arm like a bracelet is Hiliza's snowy knot. Still noticeable enough to be flagged down for work, however fortunate or not fortunate that is.
She is awake and looks alert.
Hiliza is 17 Turns, 2 months, and 9 days old.
Bundle up 'gainst snow or sun! The bowl is open to seasons' wrath.
Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is a summer afternoon.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are Zhaneel, Gavin, Wilt, Beats, Persnickety, Reno, Immie, Mosfet, Gyahaahaa, Vanitas, Sentanta, and Buffy.
Green Yshanth, green Miravith, brown Revnath, blue Rubyth, brown Druseth, and green Alymath are here.
You see a wagonmaster, Cattysaur, Wagon One, and Hatching Rules here.
Obvious exits:
Pens - Northern Bowl - Caverns - Ground Weyrs - Lakeside - Guards HQ
Hiliza steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
Meandering further 'neath spires' watchful spikes, you head north.
Northern Bowl
Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds.
It is a summer afternoon.
To the northwest, you see one person.
Clinging wind-blasted to Council arch are Orphan, Rocky, and Lewis.
Gold Rhyath and green Zaqith are here.
You see Bester here.
Obvious exits:
Training Grounds - Council Rooms - Sands - Queens' Ledges - Central Bowl
Hiliza wanders in from across the bowl.
Careful now, the Sands are just beyond this vaulted entrance.
Sand's Edge
Hot -- hotter -- hottest! Heat rises from the Sands just beyond the upraised stone, rippling and undulating outwards to flow out through this vaulted entrance. The air is hot and heavy, a thick mantle that clings to those who skirt the edges of the Sands and slip into the tiered galleries along the inner wall. The whoosh and promise of cooler air is but a few steps away in the bowl.
Dotting the raked dunes at the edge of the cavern are Knuddel and Miami.
You see What're Eggs Coming To These Days?, This Ain't Yo Momma's Egg, You Lookin' At Me? Are YOU Lookin' At ME?! Egg, Have I Got An Egg For YOU!, The Egg Oph Did NOT Eat For Breakfast, Half-Cracked and Half-Hatched Egg, Lost With The Dustbunnies Egg, Your Shoelace is Untied Egg, Yet Another Flipping Egg, Last in the Carton Egg, and OOC -- Hatching Rules here.
Ophelia is here.
Obvious exits:
Galleries - Hatching Sands - Bowl
Hiliza fights her way in from the bowl.
Ophelia
She's a great deal more than the thin, pale scar that angles through the eyebrow to seal her left eye shut into a permanent wink, though that gets the initial attention; the mutable green-blue of what is now half a glance is well set in her slightly round, pale face, framed by the shoulder-length tumble of hair darkly golden. Well firmed by turns of riding and turns before of crafting, her build still stands sleek if not quite so tall, all held with the lazy ease of confidence and surety.
A long-sleeved, well-fitting tunic done in what once was called the Chinese style cloaks her upper body in Reaches' dark blue, toggled closed by one shoulder and down her side with small, wooden clasps. A skirt in a somewhat lighter hue goes down nearly to her ankles, and if it is uncharacteristic of her to wear, the boots aren't: military, tight-laced, and /black/. The sinuous coils of a blue 'lizard cover her shoulder and wrap her upper forearm.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 6 minutes.
Ophelia is 41 Turns, 2 months, and 1 day old.
Tatoria fights her way in from the bowl.
A single step and the heat increases. Another and it gets hotter still. A few more and you are out onto the Sands themselves, bathed in waves of warmth.
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.
Below, you see one person.
Tucked watchful and warm onto a ledge is Ghost.
Gold Ysbryth is here.
You notice Hannah asleep here.
Areiah is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl - Sands' Thermals
Areiah
Despite the ineffable softness of youth still lingering in her supple form and shy, quiet bearing, Areiah is quite obviously one no longer considered a girl, but rather a young woman. Lustrous onyx waves have been let down, falling to much resemble a waterfall in loose waves down her back, stopping only as they reach the calves of sculpted legs. Her generally artistic features are only enhanced by these wayward locks, the twin sapphire pools that carefully observe much of the world around her made even more dramatic against her lightly tanned skin. Subtly pronounced cheekbones and a button nose sit above full, naturally pouty lips, the innocence of childhood becoming less and less evident by way of her appearance.
The smooth touch of leather caresses every inch of Areiah's petite frame in a lithesome second skin, blatantly revealing all that it strives to conceal. Supple hide, dyed a dark cobalt blue, shimmers with a barely perceptible pattern of inlayed silver. In sharp contrast to the pristinely pale hint of bared neck, the jacket fastens tightly over her torso, stretched taut over the gentle curve of breast and shoulder. Glimmers of silver blend seamlessly down into trousers that flow over her legs like a sheath, accentuating the subtle arch of strong, svelte thighs. Dark blue hide stretches down to kiss the bend of her leg invitingly, only to be swallowed by lustrous knee high boots, embracing the soft swell of calf and heel. Settled comfortably upon Areiah's shoulder, tail curled protectively 'round her neck, is Tremeyre.
Simplicity itself is found in a braid of black, blue, and buttermilk gold - understated, plain, yet telling all who would look close that Areiah is the Senior Weyrwoman of High Reaches Weyr.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 24 minutes.
Areiah is 26 Turns, 7 months, and 10 days old.
Ysbryth
Buttermilk pours, pale gold, along the drawn-out length of her; runnels of clotted cream churn down her attenuated throat to broadened withers, where starlit motes -- paler still, though more intense -- freckle her hide. Their heat steams milky gold to white-hot froth, boiling over shoulders and spine, foaming along the base of 'spars and lathering haunches, before cooling again to softer, condensed shades that settle comfortably into the hollows of her flanks; stars crossed; stars lost in the mellowed warmth of profound tranquillity.
A well-oiled pair of riding straps are fastened to Ysbryth's neck.
Ysbryth is 9 Turns, 9 months, and 8 days old.
She is 80 feet (24m) long, with a wingspan of 133 feet (41m).
Ysbryth seems to be listening.
Gideon clears his throat slightly and smile, nodding to Areiah. "Hello Areiah. Good afternoon Ysbryth."
From the Galleries, Tatoria slides up the stairs, broom grasped with purpose. "The Galleries feel so /odd/ when they're empty," she notes, head twisted so she can address Hiliza. As she spins around, however, her eyes widen a bit. Not empty. Hmm.
"Gideon! Hi! Is it that time again?" And Areiah is on her feet, ever the polite little hostess. Egg-touchings are so much fun. "Where's everyone else?" she inquires, looking to the galleries, shading her eyes. Oh. "You're going to have some trouble reaching them from up there, folks - c'mon down!" Ysbryth seems to concur; head lifts, interest piqued. Oooh. People.
From the Galleries, "Wha'?" That's Sorana's intelligent comment as she heads down the stairs.
Sorana moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Gideon grins and nods his head, then moves slowly out onto the hot sands. "Thank you, Areiah."
From the Galleries, Hiliza follows as well. She's just following everywhere, honestally.
From the Galleries, Caylea blinks. "Hurm?" She was just innocently setting there. No one told her of an eggtouching. Shrugging her shoulders, she follows suite and steps dwon.
Hiliza moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Caylea moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
From the Galleries, Tatoria's head twitches again. And even more not empty! Her eyes widen just a bit at the first sight of the eggs.. and even more at the command. "Are we supposed to be /down/ there?" she questions swiftly. Evidently. And so she follows.
Tatoria moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Gideon grins at his fellow Candidates then moves towards the mound of eggs, waving again at Ysbryth. "She remembers me, doesn't she?" he asks Areiah with a teasing wink. He walks straight towards the middle of the hatching sands, shifting slightly on his feet.
From the Galleries, Mosiah watches his fellow candidates upon the sands far below. See, Moe is sitting up here, arms crossed before his chest and slumped a bit down so as to watch the proceedings from this point aloft. Far more safe up here than down there. YepYep.
Some residue of brain activity prompts Tatoria to abandon her broom near the entrance, shoving it in a corner to lean there for future removal - or maybe to stay as decoration. That taken care of, her feet pick their way across the sands and her shoulders straighten as she composes her expression. Eggs. Lots of them. Nothing special here. Nothing they haven't seen before....Simply look like you know what you're doing and it all works out...
Areiah slants a grin Gideon-ward and cocks her head. "She ought to - Faranth knows you're out here enough," the little 'rider teases in kind, circling her little blanket-encampment and making her way toward her lifemate. The huge gold lifts her head, muzzle grazing one leather-wrapped shoulder in a draconic nuzzle, bringing a quick smile to her 'mate's lips before she calls out, voice pitched to carry; "So this is Ysbryth, and you all are..?"
Caylea pauses at the threshold of the sands, staring into that looming space with eyes wide. Flourecent (sp) hair is forgotten as she stares out over the mounds and shakes her head incrediously. "Well..this outta be fun..Who decided ever decided it was a /good/ thing to give us a taste of what's coming?" Sure, show them how hot it is, tell them that it'll be even worse during the hatching. Show them the big looming mother dragon and then explain on hatching day that there'd be a /bunch/ of other, smaller looming one's stumbling around them: Can't you /feel/ the love? The candidate coughs and glancse around to her companions to see what they're doing.
"You should know me, Areiah..." Sorana is all laughing ease as she ambles across the sands, pausing to peer, wince, and lift feet with sharper alacrity. "Sorana. Back again to sear my feet." CandiGirl dips in a polite curtsey to Ysbryth. "How've you and Ysbryth been?"
Caylea decides to throw in an "Caylea, Ma'am." Towards the end of her non-speech.
Hiliza steps gingerally onto the sand. "It's... hot.." Well, brillant observation Hiliza. Hiliza who is still holding her broom. Hiliza who is looking at the eggs in shock. It's something she's not done before, anyway. "Soraaaaaa!!!" Hiliza hops over and clings, which is when she notices the broom. "Oops.." Broom is set against the nearest wall and Hiliza goes back into Static-cling mode.
Gideon tosses dragon and rider a distracted smile while unlacing the top tie of his shirt. On the sands during the summer months. Brilliant. He walks slowly towards the farthest side of the sands towards a dark egg, kneeling back on his heels as he holds out a tentative hand, his fingers barely brushing the surface.
From the Galleries, Mosiah continues to slouch down in his chair, his rear end upon the brink of sliding right on off the seat. Eyes just manage to peek over the edge of the railing just before him as he watches the goings-on out on the sweltering sands.
Darkness curls, coils, wraps around you, and in touching this egg, you find some strange cool essence bubbling up. A contrast to the thick, warm air, indeed - and the effect is almost calming. Chill to soothe the heat.
"Tatoria," the Starish Candidate replies instantly. She's paying attention, for once in her life... Tatoria's feet shift a bit, and her gaze decides to stay away from the eggs for the time being, and the still mostly-unfamilar faces get the same ammount of attention. Instead, she focuses on the looming gold - at least, from Tat's perspective, she's looming. Her eyes don't widen. Not one bit. If anything, her spine straightens and her shoulders set more firmly.
Dark brows lift, and names are taken in with little nods - from Areiah, mind you. Ysbryth is simply looming, without really trying to. "We've been just fine, thanks, Sorana - warm, but fine," the petite brunette replies, beaming. "Come on, then, don't be shy - she isn't going to bite. Find an egg, and touch. But be gentle; the shells are still just the slightest bit soft." And with that, she herself seeks out one vibrantly colored ovoid, resting her hands lightly upon its domed top. "Just run your fingers over it, and see what you feel."
A slow, relaxed smile spreads across Gideon's face, and he utters an unconscious sigh, his head tilted as he leans forward slightly resting a hand on the sand in front of him... and forces himself to stand, rubbing at the scorched hand. He blinks rather stupidly for a moment, then glances at Areiah. "I've never touched one before," is an almost intelligent sentence, that relaxed smile still on his face. He drags a hand through his rather unruly mop. "Hadn't thought it'd be like that."
Sorana beams at Areiah, wending her way through the eggs carefully. One is paused by, a shake of the head as she peers at it, and finally...she gets to the kittenish egg she adored from above, a wild whirl of string and fur. Hands graze the top, lightly, hesitantly.
Mosiah moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Caylea gives a mildly nervous nod before looking over to the backdrop-gold and giving a slight curtsey to it before continuing onto the sands. Her moves are more out of lack of confidence then politeness, however. Eyes roaming over the eggs as she passes by, the candi also seems fairly distracted. Amazing: She's walking across the sands and it's actually /warm/. It should make her happyhappyjoyjoy, though that'll come after the enormity of her situation passes.
Mosiah
From jungle's greenest verve to shadow's blackest depths, this is a young man of vivid presence. Beyond slim stature and mid-adolsecence, a bit of the knave alite in his eyes: irises of sundered malachite rimmed with mercury. Boyish dimples upon oddly pale face only add to his square jaw and strong nose. Onyx-black hair is a touch on the lengthy side --a rebellion of sorts-- so that it brushes broad shoulders, although it is commonly pulled back with a leather thong.
Loose, airy shirt of rough stuff was of a once vibrant shade of carmine, but is now but a pale shadow of its former glory, draping from slender shoulders with elbow-length sleeves and having an open neckline. Baggy shorts are made of sturdier stuff, enveloping legs to knobby knees. Feet are adorned with some simple leather-thong sandals, nothing more, nothing less. Moe's Sack hangs heavily from Mosiah's shoulder.
Once he wore a knot replescent in purlpe and white, is now only a plain, virginal White of a simple High Reaches Weyr Candidate.
He is awake and looks alert.
Mosiah is 15 Turns, 9 months, and 27 days old.
Caylea
Those eyes, piercing, livid, alive with -flavor-! Slowly shifting from dark gray towards a rich gray-blue over the turns, they stare out over the world masterfully. A mask of confidence, an appeal of excitement, their glossy film gives a taste of the ever shifting soul of the girl without. Classically narrowed at the edges, they front a well-formed, feminine face of high cheekbones and thin lips. Pouty eyebrows crown these windows to the heart, thick but not overwhelming. No freckles, nor wrinkles, mar this youthful face at the peek of its glamour, though all is not perfect. Her nose is perhaps a little unshapely, bluntly tipped and noticeably out of proportion with her smallish face. Mocha cream skin stretches tight over her lithe form, pulled taunt by her growing turns. Around 57, the blooming teenager has outgrown her childish chub. Her hips have formed, not hour-glassing, though definitely apparent, and her chest has noticeably taken shape. While not a fashion model, nor buxom beauty, her hands carry a soft touch, skilled and well practiced. In a very recent, unself-proclaimed adjustment to features, her hair has been cut short: Very short, in a boyish, uneven bob that curls in every-which-direction. Most notable is the highly fluorescent rose-bud gleam that shines off of its once dark brown/ebon hues.
Cimmerian mahogany spreads down in elegant waves across this long evening gown. Warmth speaks within its folds and layers, a cindered shawl draping just over the shoulders and relaxing down to the backs base. Neck is rimmed upon the purest aureate trim, arcing in a down-pointed V. Leaflets of red spread down the middle, vining and twisting into an unaltered line until the waist, where it blooms out in a vest-like pattern. The skirt end of the gown its self billows out within each movement, an exquisite reminder of the simpler things... Caylea wears Caylea's Listening Tube around her neck. Perched on Caylea's shoulder is Genre. Perched on Caylea's shoulder is Aztek. Resting comfortably upon Caylea's shoulder, tail tightly curled around the neck is Kryll.
One might not notice right away the absence of a knot upon her shoulders. However, its hard to deny the way the pearl-white rope rings lightly around her neck, looking not unlike a canine collar. Yes, tis her symbol of bondage to the Weyr which has healernapped her to stand as a Candidate for Reaches next Clutch.
She is awake and looks alert.
Caylea is 18 Turns, 10 months, and 26 days old.
If she's inviting, Tatoria's not about to turn down the offer. Shoulders shift again as she resolutely turns her gaze away from the gold and gives the eggs a glance. Not just any glance, either - a long, lingering, studying glance. Her time is limited. Which to visit...? With amazing speed, one catches her eye and she moves swiftly toward it, weaving around others without so much as a brush of her fingers. She stops in front of the Stargazing egg, simply staring at it for a long, silent moment. Tentatively, fingers stretch outward... and just barely graze the rounded surface.
Sorana
A mirage of sable and forestry, maiden's form curves with little more than life's spring, from daintily-clad feet to an amusement-wrought countenance as shines in serene affability. The possibility of mischief tweaks roseate lips, running along her otherwise simplistic lines, and lurks in eyes -- vivid, leafy green optics -- framed by elegant 'lashes. Cascading languidly just past shoulders' court-held mark, dusky raven tressing becomes the ebon mark of maturity, though singular strands shimmer in gentle acknowledgement of vanities fulfilled. A suave sort of nonchalance finally graces body's rythmn and neatly-placed strides, coming to the mid point perfection that her cohorts have come to expect. Unforeseen, however, is the sparkle within those verdant orbs, the vivacious quirk to her rose-brushed smile, and the imperceptible upward tilt of nose and chin.
Dressed for hard work, the black that enwraps her frame sturdily doesnt *quite* hide various stains and accumulated dirt. Long, loose trousers hang low, low enough to just barely allow stout brown boots to toe-out from beneath. A thinner shirt of soft material is her only apparent vanity, though the occasional snag to the semi-fine cloth is evidence that she is not always careful of it.
White! Bright! And oh-so-new! Yep, Sorana has gotten a new knot, the single loop of priceless -- quite literally -- alabaster declaring her a High Reaches Candidate.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for 3 minutes.
Sorana is 21 Turns, 2 months, and 1 day old.
Hiliza blinks in delayed reaction, "I'm Hiliza, and how can you all stand around all comfortable like that?" She peers at Gideon and buries her face into Sora's arm, "Oh he's going to break it! Soraannnaaa! Oh and you too..." Hiliza peers out and decides it's safe. And what's that egg, sort of near all the other eggs but reaching to a lonely egg? Like a book. She wanders over and bends ever-so-slightly, afraid to touch it. But brow furrows and her fingers brush over the surface, like she's tracing the words slightly over top with her fingers. Words? Hiliza blinks and peers at the egg again, "There so pretty..." For eggs.
Mosiah scowls as he sneaks out onto the sands, arms still crossed before his chest, and looking quite resolute all the while. He casts a whistful gaze up t'wards the galleries, silently berating hisself for leaving his safe abode. Whatever made him come down here? Another question for the mindhealer to help him figure out. A flourishing wave is granted the sitting gold, complete with sketched bow. A muttered, "Present and accounted for," is added wryly, more to hisself than any others.
Sorana giggles at Hiliza, the sound trailing off into a soft, "Ohhh...Oh, I do /like/ this one." Hand lingers, absorbing the feeling for a delicious, warm and delicate moment, before the Candie reluctantly removes her hand and continues through the eggs, stopping at a nearby neighbor. Egg is peered at, in it's pastel'd glory, the killjoy hues that run drearily down it's length provoking an almost sad, "Oh, my. That one is so pretty...but so sad.." Hand lifts, running down one long side.
Gideon stares at his hands for a moment, then moves a little farther from the entrance to the sands, and a little closer to the looming dragon mother. Another brilliant move for the Smith. He kneels before another darkish egg, strange reds and greens flowing up and down in the soft light of the glows. He trails his fingers along these specks as if studying them. "How do they do that?" he mumbles to no one really.
Nope: Not even Caylea is going to bother with reclaiming her life's ambition to torture Mosiah this day. Even she has her quiet moments. Finally she dares take the step in neeling down beside one of the eggs. She stares for a long moment at it's darkened hues, eyes skillfully picking out the delicate slivers of color that milk across it's surface. Hand that shakes with unhealer-like fever reaches out to carress the leathery casing. Forget the fact that she's now deep in the territory of Eggdom. Hand gently traces the line of cyan that snakes down one side like a preformed crack.
Tatoria's eyes widen now. The display of eggs couldn't accomplish it.. but somehow running her fingers over this one does. The look is blank, almost dreamy as it spreads across the candidate's face, and her hands drop to splay against the smooth, sparking side, abosorbing all she can of the feel.. of something deeper. "Amazing..." she breathes, the one word escaping without her notice or her care even as a faint shiver takes hold. One could almost imagine a chill evening breeze sweeping past her.
Areiah gives a delighted grin, and lifts her hands from the egg she stands before, taking a step back. "Enjoy it," she calls lightly, waving the latecomers in and pointing out choice eggs before attempting to blend into the background.
From the Galleries, Elehu settles the brown at her shoulder, giving him a tidbit to chew as she leans out over the ledge of the gallery, leaning her head on her hands, an amused smile on her face.
Mosiah is tortured enough, thank you very much. Flip-flop sandals flutter across the sands as he makes his way wherever, without any rhyme or reason to be figured. This is Mosiah we are talking about here. Shuffling steps take him past Gideon, "Don't get too close. You might just end up with one." With a wink, he continues around this egg and that, not exactly touching any, more like taking a little up-close-and-personal tour. That'll do for him. In a slightly raised voice, "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?"
Hiliza tilts her head to one side and then stands, slowly. She doesn't move far from the egg, but manages a sub-dued yet chipper "Hello.." to Mosiah. Then she peers back at the egg, soft smile dancing at her lips serenly.
More darkness, but it's different, this time. Crisper. Sharper. Slightly more intense, somehow. And not cool, not at all, no. This egg seems full of white-hot light, an internal fire seeming bent on setting the world ablaze. Or maybe just the nearest clump of Thread.
Pia moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Hannah wakes up.
Pia pokes her head through the stone entranceway, hair falling instantly limp around her face. "Can I join you guys?" She calls.
Foster blinks in from ::between::!
Gideon's eyes grow wide for a moment, the slightest frown on his face as he peers at 'his' egg, studying it carefully, even leaning closer to peer at the leathery surface. His lips move soundlessly, then he shakes his head, a dazed look overcoming the smile from before. He stands, glancing about at the others, backing up slowly.
Hannah
Cascades of pale, white blond hair spill down her back, shimmering like moonlight coalesced. Now wearing it long, around her face, it is one of the only attractive assests she has. Pixish face peeks out from beneath bangs that are too long and tend to hide her face, while wide, thin, pale coral lips hide a gap-toothed smile and crooked teeth. Not an exceptionally beautiful nor pretty young woman, her one true beauty are her eyes. As if a thousand emeralds had been squeezed dry of their color, her eyes sparkle that rare dark emerald green. Her eyes are large and round, with long, pale lashes that frame them almost with a perfection that may inspire jealousy and sparkle with curiosity and a vibrancy for life that only the young can have. A light dusting of freckles dance across the bridge of her upturned nose and lightly dust the pale, milk-white skin of her cheekbones. Small and petite, with budding curves that mark her petite form as womanly, her stature is waifish and almost painfully thin; all angles and planes.
Simple, homespun dress falls around her thin frame down to her slim ankles, though the excess material usually ends up tripping her and making her look clumbsy. Embroidered along the hems and sleeves of her garment are every imaginable flower possible. Light sandals adorn her feet, though she usually ends up barefoot.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Hannah is 17 Turns, 7 months, and 5 days old.
Pia
Her form is slender self-importance, a svelte self of pride and bronzed skin. Cast upon her oval, sun-blushed face is a set of insidiously charming features -- rather appealing at least 'til she opens her mouth. Her pale green eyes, wide set against the urbane arch of her nose, suggest a depth of character denied by the soft pouty curve of her lips. Thick waves of gold kissed russet frame her face, blowzy predisposition firmly supressed by the artificial creation of those perfectly sleek curls.
Gray sisal trous sheathe her thin legs with perfectly woven cloth -- showing signs of wear but obviously expensive. The cuffs, folded up at the end, brush the tops of buffed brown hide boots, each with a slight heel. Soft white fabric creates a crisply ironed collared shirt, front lined with pearly white buttons. A brown weyrhide jacket, tailored to slide down Pia's curves, tops the shirt to protect as much as provide warmth. Green smears across her shoulder, a long looping tail entwined into her hair. Blue slithers up and down her arms, rarely still, never calm.
A delicate gold metal firelizard earcuff clings to Pia's ear.
Pristine white replaces the old strands of blue and black, cord twisting in the single loop of candidacy.
She is awake and looks alert.
Pia is 19 Turns, 7 months, and 27 days old.
Frantically Awaiting Election Results Egg
Tangible tension encircles the pendulous shell as colors shift violently about the turbulent surface. Hues of vibrant crimson and vivid azure battle for supremacy, both vehemently striving for ultimate dominion. All other colors have long since been eliminated, yet neither scarlet nor sapphire triumphs, rather, they teeter on the edge of an indefinite stalemate, and the outcome remains uncertain.
"Pia!" So much for blending into the background. Areiah waves the Candidate over, beaming brilliantly. "We're just touching Ysbryth's little wonders; c'mon and get your hands dirty." So to speak, anyhow.
Pia dusts her clean little hands together and saunters out onto the sands. "Thanks, Areiah. Have you all been out here long?" The last is addressed more to the candidates -- she knows how long Areiah's been out here.
Mosiah lifts and arm and cocks a hand in some sort of greeting to Hiliza, "G'day, there." *shuffle-shuffle-shuffle* Currently touchless, the lad continues upon his little journey, starting to cross over to the fringes of the clutch. Lilted smile and half-lidded eyes critique each egg as he passes, bobbing his head or shaking it, dependant upon the current thread of opinon.
"Nope," Sorana replies, flicking an absent glance to Pia. "I've just touched that egg--" the kittenish one is pointed at with her chin "--and this one." The pastel'd splendor of the egg rests beneath her hand, killjoy hues rolling downward -- one of which she traces softly.
"Go ahead, Mosiah, it doesn't hurt," Gideon calls out with an odd smile, waving towards the eggs as he tries to sort of fade into the background, watching the others curiously.
Rauve moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Rauve
Madder-ghosted moonrays swamp to sculpt and slink over yielding slants of cheekbones, widening into a gauchely weak jaw; alabaster upwelling into each bank of soft flesh and every wiry twist of sinew. Aurum-gold seeps into the honey-raveled measures of fawn tresses, rakishly layered lengths spreading a shade from neutral jaw to the naturally uniform rigidity of neapish shoulders. Not excessively stinted, imperfectly spare torso tapers into impossibly slender, lank legs and upsweeps into similarly rangy arms. An intrinsic severance fades the smoldering orchid tint of signature cyan-spindled eyes, orbicular skew concocting an outlandish look to his unsheltered, raw sway.
Sugar, sugar candy-banded crimson and ivory teem and twirl 'round in a hypnotically appealing fusion of color. From a long-sleeved, but lightly made, constricted shirt, gauzy sisal fabric eddies attractively 'round narrow contours, hem ending just beneath the candidate's navel. Good thing he doesn't have a spare ounce on him. Leather, again? Why, of course. Leather -- shiny, flamboyant, and similarly snug - begin in a frighteningly bizarre flash of scarlet 'cross his hips, and wind loosely over calves, ending at black boots, presumably pulled from the stockpile in his wardrobe. A loose white, collared shirt is worn over, for warmth's sake. And decency too. He does have to bend over every so oft. Assertively claiming his shoulder, Lihai's narrowed gaze assumes you as it's focal point.
Virgin, chaste, hoary and decieving, a single loop sashays discreetly, hung at the elbow rather than the shoulder. If one catches glimpse, it is the emblem of the few, the tortured: the HRW candidates.
He is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Rauve is 17 Turns, 8 months, and 4 days old.
Foster escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
Caylea glances away from the egg and towards Mosiah, watching him cross the sands aimlessly. Regarding him thoughtfully for a moment, she shakes her head and looks back to the egg before her. It's colors were soothing..but she couldn't just linger at one egg. Some said they had favorites right? She'll just non-biasedly check as many out as she has time to do so. Standing up, the ex-healer smiles hauntedly before stepping towards another egg. Kneeling down beside it, her fingers rub gently against the patchwork like patterns. Earthy brown catches her sights betwixt the pastels, and she closes her eyes for a moment. Who needs embarrassment when you have imagination? She could just almost /see/ the little one within.
Pia trails lazy fingers across the smooth arc of the Lost in A Book Egg, tracing the odd tracery of lines swirling around it.
Tatoria leaves her egg with a last, lingering trail of her fingers, hesitant to break the touch entirely. There are more eggs, however.. and so she moves away, feet winding through the burning sands, around eggs in search. Finally, her hands move outward on her way past, almost of their own will, to graze against the lullaby egg.
Rauve dodges onto the sands, feet immediately scorched. Unnh. Better late then never at all... maybe. Flustered, he weaves into the 'midst of fellow candidates. Red leather and heat waves don't mix, even for a moment, and beads of sweat soon fall 'cross his thin brow. A-heh.
"You would be surprised," Moe calls back to Gideon. He has seen what happens. Oh yes. Head swivles around as he reguards a particularly grainy-appearing once. Too busy rubber-necking, he completly misses a bit of a rumple in the sand. Catching his toes, balance is quickly lost as skinny arms windmill vainly for purchase. /Timber!/ *swoosh* The boy falls forward, hands reading out 'til they clutch the unimaginable: an egg. With eyes still closed in preperation for a fall, he sigh, "Oh, thank you. Thank you." And they they open and he is granted a full-bore sight of brightly colored egg clutched in his arms. Well, isn't this an interesting turn of events.
Gideon rubs an arm slowly across his forehead, then starts forward suddenly as Mosiah falls, poised for a moment to make sure both he and the egg are alright.
Pia nods in a sudden, satisfied sort of way, palm giving the egg a complacent little pat. Freeing one hand to push her damp bangs from her forehead, she spies the Lather, Rinse, Repeat Egg and wades towards it, both hands extended to test the bubbly swirls that cover it.
Blink. Blink. Sorana blinks rapidly, head shaking slightly as if to clear...something. "Amazing." Hand pulls back, hovers, then falls to her side as she straightens, meandering absently between the eggs. A glint of lurid purple catches her eye, and the ex-stewardlet draws that way, letting out a light laugh as she places both hands on either side of the egg that seems to advertise something great, something late, something that only a certain type of commercial can advertise in all it's cheesy splendor.
"Careful!" Areiah squeaks, brow furrowing nervously. She's not cross; she's worried. "Gentle hands, folks. And one foot in front of the other, slowly, if you please." A huff from Ysbryth could do much to hammer the point home, were one intimidated of her. *huff*
Eyes open and suddenly focus upon a semi-stranger. She'd seen the other in the barracks, but now she was getting a much more 'upclose' view. "Oh.. lo." She states to Tatoria before pulling her hand relunctantly away from the gentle patterns. Standing straight once more, she brushes her hands down her dress before heading off to another egg. But so many to choice from! Well, that one looks fun. Striding a few steps over towards the slumberparty egg, she stares at the daring greeny hues, then towards the bottom at the off-pinks and reds. "My hair..mirrored in an egg. Sorana/Ruave/Sian's been busy."
Caylea
Just a graze, however... seems someone else is busy touching the egg Tatoria chose, and she's never been one to share. "'Lo," she echoes toward Caylea, voice almost echoing distaste. Move on.. move on! With quick feet and /gentle/ hands - how could they be otherwise after that reminder? - she moves again, hands now caressing the edges of an egg that echoes the flicker of a fire and warm drinks.
Rauve whisks himself onto the sands, trippingly halting at Areiah's warning. Catlike --or attempting to be so-- steps angle him in the midst of his fellows, orchid eyes dwey.. with awe, or with the heat. Red leather and heavy heat don't tangle well, and his thin brow is soon dappled with sweat. Caylea is eyed as he skids toward an egg, brow raised. Backyard Stargazing Egg. To be exact. Quickly, momentarily, fingertips brush against its surface.
Mosiah gasps as instantly releases, wheeling back to fall with a *thump* upon the sands on his rear. "Oif!" Well, thats much better than screaming shrilly like some teenaged girl, which nearly happened a moment there. He just sits there, staring in some sort of thunderstruck awe, at the egg he gripped. "Uh... Uh..." The lad gulps once as all the color seems to be blanched from his skin. A breath, two, a third. Okay, we are ready now. He glances Areiah-wards, "Sorry. Sorry. My fault. Should have watched where I was going." But, the boy can't stop from going a tad further, "/But/ were you to keep these sands properly even, things like that wouldn't happen." He glances back at the egg that was touched, still a little put off by that experience.
Gideon glances from dragon to rider, then back to Mosiah, a sigh of relief as no harm is done. A glance towards the others sees that everything else seems to be going well, so he lets his eyes wander slightly... though his gaze keeps returning to that last egg. His head tilted, an odd smile on his face, he leans up against the nearest wall, eyes flicker to the others on the sands, but returning to the egg, his feet shifting from time to time from the forgotten heated sands.
Pia snatches her hands back, guilty gaze flickering towards Areiah. Did she push too hard? With another, slightly more nervous glance at the looming gold dragon, the ex-Vintner sets her smooth palms against the Long, Hot Shower Egg.
Sorana's hand continues on the egg, wavering lightly over the pastel surface of...a dress? Ah, it is but an egg, despite any Candidate hands that skim it's lonely surface.
Is it a bit warm on the sands to anyone else? Hand reaching up to wipe her brow, Caylea's ready to admit that even Reaches carried with it a bit of that Istan warmth. Ten fold. Hand reaches out to carress the party egg, chuckling for a moment. "I feel odd, walking around and touching eggs." Maybe it's just a personality flaw, but she tends to realize stuff all of a sudden, and usually belatedly. However, she -is- getting more confident in her movements. Her hands trail over the egg, carefully avoiding overtly softspots.
Gideon finally shakes his head, a boyish, and even abashed look on his face. He shrugs his shoulders into place and approaches the eggs once more, small glances thrown left and right before he finds himself in front of a different sort of egg than the first two, this one almost like a fire's hearth on a winter day. He tentatively reaches out a hand, his palm softly caressing the hardening surface.
Rauve is mildly startled, the usual greyness to his gaze flaring as he doublesteps backward, a brow raised. Mmf. Feet shift languidly as he tilts himself back toward the egg, palms delicately warmed against the 'shell, perhaps drawn by the foreigness of emotion that comes along with the touch. Peculiar.
Mosiah plants his hand in the warm sands and pushes up, his fingers lightly sinking into the pliant surface. Once righted, he immediatly goes about dusting the sand from his hands. Where else? But on his shorts. *frump-frump-frump* Touched egg is given a wary smirk as he backs away from the thing, cautious not to spill onto any of its mates. Away is best, only to end up close to Caylea. Ohh, which is worse? The boy glances to her, "And you look odd too, if you don't mind me saying."
"We keep the sands raked to standard," Areiah replies, folding her arms. A-hem. Brows climb, though, and attention wavers - "Something the matter, Rauve? Is this your first egg-touching?" And then; "Actually, that's a good question. How many of you have been egg-touching before?"
"Once," Sorana responds, half-kneeling to peer closer at a fold. A tearstain? Perhaps. It certainly warps those pastel colors.
Pia's wrist swipes across her forehead, pushing the offendingly wet bangs away. "Goodness, it's hot."
Gideon shakes his head absently at Areiah's question, his gaze still taken by the egg at his fingertips.
Tatoria's hand jerks backward, and the egg gets a suspicious glare from the candidate. The sands are hot enough... Tentatively, a finger pokes at the egg's surface, though she doesn't quite dare more. With a wrinkle of her nose and a decisive shake of her head, Tatoria scrambles backwards, pony-tail swishing as she goes. In her haste, feet somehow tangle with themselves, and she goes sprawling backward.. right against an egg that twines itself in steam: Long, Hot Shower egg. Hands splay against it, catching herself lightly even as Tatoria turns to study the egg that saved her from the scorch of the sands.
Is there no relief for the poor girl? Tatoria's hands whip away again, waving through the air to cool themselves. "The sands are hot /enough!/" This time the thought gets a verbal mutter, barely loud enough to move beyond the egg she's still staring at. At least this one doesn't jolt her. Something about it coaxes another touch, and Tatoria's eyes drift shut as smooths her fingers across it. When she finally leaves the egg, there's a bit more bounce to her step, and a refreshed smile spreads. The next egg is chosen easily as a result - it's the next one she comes to - Something's under the bed.
Pia rubs her sweating cheeks ruefully and glances over at Areiah. "I think I'm going to go where it's cooler. Thank you Areiah, Ysbryth, for letting me come out here again." To the dragon, a little curtsy, to the weyrwoman, a wink, and the Candie strides gratefully off the sands.
Pia escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
Sorana straightens, tossing hair back and wandering over to another egg. A bright egg. One of advertisements and brightness, late at night and splashed with magenta -- magenta that she traces with a laughter-tinged smile.
Innocense whispers across the surface beneath her fingers as they gently cross the surface: Innocence and light-hearted mischief. Even Mosiah's comment doesn't seem to preturb her much as Caylea looks away from the egg and up to Mosiah. "So glad you noticed." She says, voice oozing with mild sarcasim before she half smiles. "Avoiding them? I haven't seen you fondling over any of them. Falling, but not fondling." She doesn't mean it to be cruel, though. She's in a good mood. It's /warm/.
Warmth - but not overwhelming amounts of it - drifts 'round you, full of conversation just beyond your ears, laughter, and good company. A night in the High Reaches' Living Caverns in egg form.
Mosiah almost dismisses the touching question, continuing to ease away from the eggs and start t'wards the entrance to the bowl. He does hesitate at Cay's words, "I might be insane, but I'm not that insane. To actually, willfully, touch those things? That takes a real Red-Star born dimglow."
Gideon smiles softly as he stands, his fingers remaining for a brief moment on the egg before he carefully shifts back through the sands, his eyes scanning the rest of the room as he slowly wanders back towards the cooler part of the sands.
Sorana goes home.
Caylea shakes her head softly as she watches Mosiah wonder away. She'd remember his little comment about the dimglows, for she's sure it was directed towards her. Her hand lays placidly upon the colors before she stands up and gazes around. Already everyone's skirting away. Well, she'll be the last to leave if she has her say so. Striding over to another of the colorful orbs, she kneels down beside the connection egg, staring at it's ...weirdness. Hand reaches out and carresses teh leathery 'skin' of the shell.
Areiah just watches quietly from her spot on the sidelines. And giggles, as one rather bemused looking lad stumbles away from the clutch, simply shaking his head. Ah, the wonder of dragoneggs.
Her?
Yes? Her? She's female?
Rauve poignantly stares at the egg's shell, a hand lingering as he travels 'cross the Sands --mentally cursing himself for wearing the /nice/ red boots-- toward a wholly different egg that appeals. Winter Hearthfire egg. Here forearms spread to unhindredly encase the arc, though he's gentle under the watch of a goldrider, and of course, the clutchmama.
Is that a question or a statment?
Statement, smartmouth. ;)
*bow* Thankee (hushes now)
Gideon blushes slightly, a boyish grin overtaking his confused frown as he glances at Areiah. "Maybe It'd be better if I just stayed back here... in case of any accidents, or something."
Mosiah continues to edge t'wards the entrance. He came, he saw, he fell. His work here is done. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, glancing to Areiah. "So... uh... are we about done here. I mean, we touched, so can we like go... you know, before they hatch open and attack some poor unsuspecting young Healer apprentice or something?" There is a distinctive whine to his voice.
Another shake of her head, another egg... Tatoria pushes on, so intent in her task that she's not noticing those who go.. or stay. Only those who linger near eggs she wants to touch get any attention, and then it's usually a glare. As one lad scurries away from the snuggling in a blanket egg - most likely chased away by Tat's narrow-eyed look - she moves in that direction, hands extended to touch.
From the Galleries, Hynolonie comes up the stairs.
"You can go if you like. Though you may want to develop a slightly less paranoid mindset about the whole thing, lest you simply expire come hatching day," Areiah lilts dryly, nodding to Mosiah. And then, to Gideon: "Aw, are you sure? There's quite a mess of eggs out there, and they all feel just wonderful. It'd be a shame to miss out." Though there's sure to be another 'touching sometime soon, of course.
Caylea coughs, though rather from her slight cold or in accompment (sp) with that dazed wonder in her eyes is unknown. A strange vibrance seems to course through her, though the connection is just as swiftly severed. Just like it to ISE to come crashing down as soon as she got connected. Faint disapproval and depression follows that jubilation as Caylea continues to trail her fingers lightly across the egg's surface. *Connect, dang you, connect!* Or so she seems to say.
Gideon smiles at Arieah and shrugs. "Nah, I can watch for now. I hadn't expected it to be quite like... /that/" he adds. How articulate. "The first and last were kind of... warm, fuzzy feelings... the one in the middle though..." He trails off, shaking his head slowly at the remembered emotions. "So powerful," he mumbles soflty.
Rauve is not quite sated, perhaps an imploring look is directed toward the egg, brow sloping to an odd, subtle crease. "Mmm.." So he can't form coherant words, so? He inclines slighty, 'til even his nose can feel the radiating heat... until it is too much for him, and he stumbles awkwardly back, but catches a hand to the shell of a third egg. Something's Under the Bed...
From the Galleries, Hynolonie scurries to the edge of the galleries her eyes lit up with excitement as she watches the candidates do some of their egg touching. She wrinkles her nose and peers down on them for a while longer, then lifts an arm to wave to her mum.
Go? Tatoria starts, attention caught by that word. Her fingers leave the comfort of the egg she's touching, feet twitching a bit as even the soles of her boots carry the heat. But there are so many /eggs/ left... of course, there's also that hot sand underfoot... In the indecisiveness quite typical of the girl, she settles for a combination of the two, and fingers trail on eggs first to the left, then to the right of her path, even as her feet carry her toward the exit.
Mosiah feels a sudden and intense need to pout, arms immediatly crossing over his chest, "I am most certainly not paranoid." As if to prove to her that he is not, the boy once more trudges across the sands, reaching the first egg to rest before him. A little cock-eyed and a primarily purple-washed color, the egg just sits there while Moe reaches his hands out to touch... to touch... Palms open, hands are hardly a finger's width away from the smooth covering. Dimples wink as he grits his teeth, making quite a show of forcefullness. Just. A. Little. Closer. *grunt* With a dramatic drop of his shoulders, and basicly what can be termed as a full-body slump, he relents to drop his clammy hands to his sides. "Scorch it," a rather patheticly murmured curse. One hand lifts up to brush a drop of sweat from his forehead, and then comes down to brush the surface of the egg with but a whisper of rasps. An indrawn breath at the 'accidental' physical touch.
Aaaw, there's nothing to fear here. Now if only her cheek would stop twitching from those 'non-fear' based nerves, Caylea might have some outward semblance of calmness. She feels something wonderful, just beyond her grasp, and gazes into the unreal 'flavors' that pattern the eggs surface. However, she's spent to much time at this egg alone. She'd only get one chance to see all these eggs up close before they hatched and she returned to the Hall, so she'd better make it a good one. Relunctantly pulling herself away from the egg, eyes forever darting back to see if she missed anything, the healer crosses the sands. She eyes the groups heading away. "Is it over?" She asks quietly. She eyes Mosiah as he stares tensely at an egg before him. "Welcome to the Dimglow Side, Mosiah." She smirks slightly before heading towards the edge of the sands. Sigh...
Rauve makes one of those general tinny-freak'd out noises of whooping discontent, nearly falling over. That was -not- like the other two. But is that such a bad thing? Being unsettled isn't pleasant, but it does cause one to... mull over why exactly they're creeped out by.. an egg. Hmph. Just an egg. Not a monster. Repeat. Rocked back to his heels, he peers at the others. You freaked out too?
Mosiah scampers away from the egg. He would have started for a dead-run, if not for his flip-flop sandals and the rippling sands. Somehow, he manages to keep a little dignity with the high lift to his chin, "See, quite easy, I assure you." *strut* Again, the way out is eyed, as is Caylea, allbeit briefly. "Never said I left the dimglows now, did I?"
Tatoria turns, hands planted on her hips in a dramtic gesture as she reaches the Sands' edge - she can afford the pause now that the heat isn't quite as intense. Eyes scan the remaining Candidates indiscrimantingly, lingering on each in turn for some odd reason. Hmph. She may not give voice to the sound, but it's quite evident in her posture. Why? Who knows. Does Tat need a reason?
Gideon leans up against the slightly cooler wall of the hatching grounds, his eyes twinkling as he watches his fellow Candidates on the sands, an odd smile on his face.
"If any of you are coming back tonight, I'd be forever in your debt if you'd bring back a skin of juice," Areiah calls hopefully to all and none, and then, she lifts a hand. "H'lo, love!" Here's to hoping Hynolonie caught that.
Caylea rolls her eyes at Mosiah's words, but turns to ignore him. See, she can still be mean and ignore him right? Even if her redheaded, chokered little self is in no position to physically torment him? Looking over to the queenrider she gives a nod. If she came back, she would. Though for now she seems almost relieved to be off the sands. No, no, it wasn't the heat. Not at all. *sweatdropswipe8
From the Galleries, Hynolonie grins and waves back to Areiah, her grin widening. Juice.. She could get juice for her dear Mum. She wiggles in her seat, arms flung about the guard ropes and watching the candidates and the dragons. "I can get ya Juice Mumm" She shouts back, still waving at Areiah so she knows its her that Lonie is talking to.
Oh yes it will be so nice to get off the sands...
Sand's Edge
Hot -- hotter -- hottest! Heat rises from the Sands just beyond the upraised stone, rippling and undulating outwards to flow out through this vaulted entrance. The air is hot and heavy, a thick mantle that clings to those who skirt the edges of the Sands and slip into the tiered galleries along the inner wall. The whoosh and promise of cooler air is but a few steps away in the bowl.
Dotting the raked dunes at the edge of the cavern are Knuddel, Ineptly Heroic Gunslinger Brown Hatchling, Falling Explosion Ice Cream Shooting Angel Star Bronze Hatchling, Miami, Foster, and Peeve.
You see You Lookin' At Me? Are YOU Lookin' At ME?! Egg, Have I Got An Egg For YOU!, The Egg Oph Did NOT Eat For Breakfast, Lost With The Dustbunnies Egg, Yet Another Flipping Egg, Last in the Carton Egg, and OOC -- Hatching Rules here.
Ophelia, E'ren, Kori, Farore, Arianne, Kitriana, Indrah, Jessika, Iori, Jaruany, and Aunis are here.
Obvious exits:
Galleries - Hatching Sands - Bowl
You go to the Northern Bowl.
Northern Bowl
Seasonal winds lash up against the wall of the bowl, whipping the already hard-packed dirt into tiny dervishes of dust and debris: grit catches in the narrow clefts that crack upwards, branching out around ornate arch of the Council chambers to the north and higher about Weyrleaders' ledges and Riders' more distant niches and nooks. Westward, the junior queens' weyrs slant to the bowl floor, while to the northwest, wind roars through the tunnels that lead into the Hatching Sands. Off to the east lie the equally well-tended Weyrling grounds.
It is a summer sunset.
To the northwest, you see eleven people.
Clinging wind-blasted to Council arch are Orphan and Rocky.
Gold Rhyath, green Zaqith, and green Capryth are here.
You see Bester here.
Elehu and Miri are here.
Obvious exits:
Training Grounds - Council Rooms - Sands - Queens' Ledges - Central Bowl
Bramble squawks her way in from ::between::, wrinkled wings flapping.
Prim blinks in from ::between::!
Prim hands Peachy Keen Egg to Elehu.
Careful now, the Sands are just beyond this vaulted entrance.
Sand's Edge
Hot -- hotter -- hottest! Heat rises from the Sands just beyond the upraised stone, rippling and undulating outwards to flow out through this vaulted entrance. The air is hot and heavy, a thick mantle that clings to those who skirt the edges of the Sands and slip into the tiered galleries along the inner wall. The whoosh and promise of cooler air is but a few steps away in the bowl.
Dotting the raked dunes at the edge of the cavern are Knuddel, Ineptly Heroic Gunslinger Brown Hatchling, Falling Explosion Ice Cream Shooting Angel Star Bronze Hatchling, Miami, Foster, and Peeve.
You see You Lookin' At Me? Are YOU Lookin' At ME?! Egg, Have I Got An Egg For YOU!, The Egg Oph Did NOT Eat For Breakfast, Lost With The Dustbunnies Egg, Yet Another Flipping Egg, Last in the Carton Egg, and OOC -- Hatching Rules here.
Ophelia, E'ren, Kori, Farore, Arianne, Kitriana, Indrah, Jessika, Iori, Jaruany, and Aunis are here.
Obvious exits:
Galleries - Hatching Sands - Bowl
A single step and the heat increases. Another and it gets hotter still. A few more and you are out onto the Sands themselves, bathed in waves of warmth.
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.
Tucked watchful and warm onto a ledge is Ghost.
Gold Ysbryth is here.
Areiah, Hannah, Caylea, Tatoria, Mosiah, and Rauve are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl - Sands' Thermals
Beam. See why it's good to have kids? Hand flails, and Areiah just beams. "Thank you!" Eyes skip to Caylea, vaguely amused, and she dips her head in kind. "Thanks for the thought, too."
Gideon quickly returns with two large pitchers of chilled juice and a drudge in tow, ladden with a large tray of glasses. "Juice it is!" he calls out with a smile. "Hope I didn't spill too much."
Mosiah escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
With a toss of her hair and a flip of her head, Tatoria spins around again, now marching off the sands without bothering to give voice to whatever odd thoughts are dancing around in her head.
Tatoria escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
Caylea escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
Rauve regards the eggs one last time, but he has had enough emotional toying for one evening. Shifting to the sidelines, Areiah and Ysbryth are subject to a careful, appreciative grin-and-bow arrangements. "Thankyou, m'am." And you too, clutchmomma.
Rauve escapes the earth-born heat and heads off the sands.
From the Galleries, Hynolonie sits there for a long moment, mostly mystified at how fast Mum's request was granted. She shrugs and smiles at her mum more, watching the candidates go. Hm. Oh well...
Ooh. This works too - such service. Areiah is so spoiled. "Thanks, Gids!" the 'rider chirps cheerfully, turning to call take cares and see you soons and other pleasantries after the mob of candidates. Ysbryth settles down, now; the crowd has thinned. She can relax again. "You know, I don't think they liked the heat," she muses, moving toward he who bears the juice.
Gideon shrugs slightly, carefull of his load which he sets down against the wall farthest from the heated sands, then sits down as well. "It's all in the head, ye know," he says softly, watching as one by one the others leave.
"I know, I know," Areiah replies, trekking wall-ward which is where, conveniently, her little blanket encampment happens to be. She ain't stupid, nosirree. "Lonie, love - c'mon down and join us, why don't you?" Last time being loud. No, really. "Have a seat, though, won't you?" To Gideon again, that.
From the Galleries, Hynolonie jumps up.. and skips down to the sands to be with her mum.
Hynolonie moves into the heat, shimmered and blurred by the ripples that rise off the Sands.
Gideon sprawls out as only a guy can and pours two glasses of juice, setting them down on the blanket before pouring one for himself. "Hynolonie, good to see you again," he says softly.
Hannah falls asleep.
Hynolonie skitters out onto the sands and makes very sure not to be anywhere near enough to the beautiful eggs to upset Ysbryth. That would be impardonable. Ysbryth might eat her in the middle of the night for that. She grins. Nah.. Ysbryth was too nice, but there was no reason to change that. She grins and waves up at the gold-mother and runs over to her Mum and flops down on the blanket next to Areiah, eyeing Gideon. She simply nods to him.
Areiah curls up dantily, as only a girl can, and takes up one of the glasses, drinking eagerly. Lips are licked quickly enough, though, and an arm goes around Hynolonie as the girl is favored with a bright beam and a forehead-kiss. "You two have met, then?"
Gideon smiles warmly and nods. "Turns ago though. And I see you don't remember me," he adds to Hynolonie, a touch of regret in his voice. He holds out a hand though, back to his cheerful self again. "I'm Gideon."
Hynolonie
Hynolonie is a small and mousey girl with ash gray eyes and soft brown curly hair that seems to stick out at all funny angles from her head. Her thin round face is frame by whisps of mousey brown curls and marked with small brown freckles. She has a button nose, wide eyes, and an equally wide mouth which she tends to only fill with food, not talk. She never stands straight, but rather hunches her shoulders over to make herself appear smaller and less visible to the people around her. She is twig thin and shakes with child like excitement all the time.
A yellow jumper made from thick knitted cords wraps about Lonie's torso and arms, with only a little of the white tunic underneath showing through from beneath. Thick, coarse brown trous gird her legs, coated heavily with mud stains on her shins. The loose trousers cover the tops and most of the heels of Lonie's hiking boots. Lonie's Bag hangs loosely over Hynolonie's shoulder. Perched on Hynolonie's shoulder is Shardin.
She is awake, but has been staring off into space for a minute.
Hynolonie is 8 Turns, 8 months, and 15 days old.
From the Galleries, Jesha comes up the stairs.
Hynolonie wrinkles her nose and peers at him again. She looks up at Reia and looks perplexed. "I 'member him from turns ago.. and.. he forgot me. Met him 'gin a sevenday ago. Dat's how he knows my name." She wrinkles her nose up again, and peers at Gideon again. "YOu forgot that?"
Comfortable and cross-legged, Areiah just listens, smiling slightly. Her lifemate's fascination with people seems to have rubbed off.
Gideon looks abashed, a touch of pink creeping into his face. "Well... yes, I'm sorry," he finally admits, glancing at Areiah guiltily. He shifts slightly, glancing around the room before remember the glass in his hand, which he decides to sip at. Yes, much better than confrontation.
Hynolonie shifts her weight and folds her legs up against her body. She watches as Gideon grows uncomfortable and retreats into his juice glass. She wrinkles her nose and looks up at Mum. "Why does he looks so shy all the sudden?"
"He's a boy," Areiah answers sagely, watching Gideon from beneath her 'lashes, a grin just this side of wicked quirking her lips. "They always get nervous when we put them on the spot. I'm glad you two have met, though. Gideon's one of my dearest friends, and Lonie is, well, my daughter, but you probably know that already." Right.
Gideon blushes even more after that comment, his eyes blinking quickly as he studies the young girl for a moment. "Shy?" he mumbles, almost intelligible. He sits up a bit more. "I just... didn't want to upset... I mean." By now even the tip of his tanned nose is turning nosy, and it's certainly not from a cold draft. "I didn't want to offend anyone," he finally blurts out. Yeah, especially with one "someone's" lifemate a few feet away. He nods to Areiah, though to what is not too obvious.
Hynolonie nods, her chin cupped in her hands. She didn't quite understand the whole "Offending" thing yet. She just knew that there were times when people would say something to each other (usually true things) and then the other person wouldn't speak to them again. She just shrugs and grins. "I don't get 'fended. not at all." Lonie just didn't see the point in it. She then wraps one arm around her Mum's arm and squeezes in a hug at the mention of her being Reia's daughter.
Gideon smiles with relief, the tinge of red slowly fading as he sits up all the way, managing to spill a bit of juice on his boot. He frowns, scrubbing at it for a moment, then shrugs, simply refilling his glass. "More juice anyone?" he asks quickly. Good, that's neutral, right?
The goldrider just giggles, refraining from harassing the poor Candidate any further. It sure is tempting, though. "That's my girl," Areiah says lightly, eyebrows twitching up and down once before Gideon's words sink in, and she drains the remaining contents of her glass, offering up the empty vessel. "Absolutely - thanks again, Gids, this is really just so appreciated."
Gideon grins, carefully refilling Areiah's glass. "Anytime, Reia. Besides, it's so peaceful here. Quiet, you know?" And far away from any chores... other than serving rider and child of course.
Hynolonie snags a glass and holds it out to Gideon, a big smile on her face. She may not be the most verbal of children, but she sure is expressive when she wants to be. She wrinkles her nose.. and is a bit proud, turning out like her Mum and all.
Gideon laughs softly, his eyes twinkling as they wrinkle slightly at the corners. He hefts the pitcher once more and serves Hynolonie a refill of juice, then again sets the pitcher off to the side.
"Absolutely. And even the heat can be nice, sometimes, when you're properly dressed for it." Relaxing. Bright blue eyes skip, though, and Areiah simply grins at Hynolonie. Such a cutiepie. "Thanks," she says, looking back to Gideon and lifting her glass, sipping. Mmm.
Gideon laughs softly. "It's always kind of fun to see people sitting up in the galleries, dressed in their best Gather day clothes, and melting slowly," he comments with a wink. "Me, I'd even wear Igen garb in here."
Hynolonie raises an eyebrow as she sips her glass.. free fingers resting on the knit top that she is wearing, that feels cool even in this heat. She simply smiles after a while and finishes off her juice. She sets the glass into the sands and scratches her nose. "I'd wear a big sheet... a nice light one." SHe nods.. She's 8. SHe can get away with wearing stuff like that.
Areiah, who has been spotted lazing about in shorts and skimpy, sleeveless shirts, on occasion, nods agreement. "It's just much too warm for anything else." The comment from the kidlet elicits a giggle, though. "A sheet, huh? Well, you're on the right track - I've seen Candidate robes that look pretty darn sheet-like."
Gideon bites his lips suddenly at that last comment. "Oh?" he asks, a bit too innocently. "Have some gone missing?" Did anyone say they had? "I mean, well..." He grins then and shrugs. That's a good means of communication, right?
Hynolonie grins.. and hugs her legs. She scratches her head and loosens the ties on her boots, she's going to relax her.. yup. Lonie grins up at Reia and wrinkles her nose, remembering how some of the candidates just wouldn't know how to sew...
Thin, dark brows lift, and Areiah regards Gideon suspiciously. Well, kinda. "I wouldn't know, I'm out here ninety-nine percent of the time. Why, is that this lot's 'big prank'?" Her tone is nothing but seriousness, of course - what if someone were listening, after all? But her eyes are alight with amusement.
Gideon wrinkles his nose slightly... a bit like Lonie actually, and shakes his head. "Nope, I'd just thought at one point that might be a good material," he explains quickly. "But don't worry, I found Mayir and he gave me just the thing."
Hynolonie raises an eyebrow, then looks about as if she's worried. She's got to hide her favorite sheets, or some candidate will take them. She wrinkles her brow and grabs at her empty glass.. must have something.. to figit with...
Aw. And here Areiah was hoping to get some gossip. Ah well. "You sew, then?" Surprise takes the place of amusement, now; surprise, mingled with a bit of respect. Few and far between are the Candidates who can sew. Fewer and farther be those of the male variety. A soft smile goes Hynolonie-ward, for no real reason, other than she's here. Aww.
Gideon offers Lonie a warm smile. Glasses make good toys. Especially wooden ones... "Oh, only as necessary," he says, turning his smile Reia-wards. "Besides, I had some good teachers the first time 'round."
Hynolonie raises an eyebrow and casts glances between the two people. Hm. Old friend.. eh? INteresting. Ofcourse Lonie's not going to comment. SHe rather observe. She turns the glass upside down and shakes it over the sands to get any remaining liquid out.
"Ah," is all Areiah says, and then, she returns to her beverage. "You done, kiddo?" Obviously directed at Hynolonie, that.
Gideon glances high up above the sands towards the dragons' ledges and beyond, smiling as a small glimpse of star-specked sky can be seen. "Beautiful night, it looks like," he mumbles, to no one in particular. He smiles at the two women, then gathers his own glass as he stands slowly. "I'd best find my cot. Chores start early," he says with a smile. "Can I take the used glasses with? The juice should stay cool for a while. I can leave that there," he adds, picking up the one emptied pitcher.
Areiah dips her head in a quick nod, "Go ahead, take them in, Fionchadd can just bring his own." Lucky little 'rider, tonight; she gets company left right and center. "Thanks for the drink, and thanks for coming to the 'touching, Gids. You sleep well, all right?"
Gideon smiles warmly and nods to Areiah and Hynolonie. "You too," he replies softly, gathering a few odds and ends. "If you ever need anything out here, feel free to ask." And with that he turns, smiling, towards the caverns outside.
Oh yes it will be so nice to get off the sands...
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