October 1, 2001
Cera blinks at Kishairyn, and just stares. "You ... never knew that Master Liriel was WeaverMaster?" Cera shakes her head and winks. "I was Master Liriel's own apprentice, you know. Made Journeyman in less than three months." Cera sighs deeply, looking at her klah mug. "Never amounted to much after that, I'm afraid," she comments softly.
Kishairyn colors softly. "Well, no ... I never really paid all that much attention to high and lofty crafters I never was likely to meet ..." She whistles softly, brows lifting. "Still pretty sharded impressive," she says. "If I coulda cleared ranks that quickly, I might have even apprenticed, myself." Not as a weaver, but she doesn't feel it politic to point that out.
Taire patters into the room, a bundle of white draped over her shoulder, the fine cloth threatending to slide off and dirty itself upon the floor. "Cera!" she bellows in her best imitation of surly Master -fitting, eh? And in but a couple of shakes of a caprine's tail, the girl is swishing up to the Weaver unceremoniously, but with a rather beaming smile upon her face. "I've-" Oh wait. They were talking. "Mind if I butt in?" She actually asked. YepYep. "I need some expert advice from ya."
M'lan comes up from the lower caverns.
Cera shrugs at Kisha. "Ha! Should'a been Master LONG before no..." Cera blinks, and looks around, standing up abruptly. Old habits die hard. "What, huh? Oh!" Smiling brightly, Cera's blue eyes sparkle in Taire's direction as she wave to the girl, before sitting. "Yeah, sure, what do you need, Taire?" asks Cera as she buries her face in her mug of klah.
Coming into the living cavern, M'lan lifts a hand, brushing aside a few locks of hair and making a face. He mutters under his breath, "Sharding papers, I need a break..." Well, it would appear the bronze rider doesn't like sitting on his duff for long. Greeting one of the drudges with a nod and smile as he passes the man, M'lan continues deeper into the living cavern. Spotting the trio of candidates, M'lan chuckles, "'ello there. How goes the chores?"
Kishairyn shakes her head. "Not necessarily," she consoles, "you could always have some underhanded politics undermining your attempts to advance ... it could be a conspiracy amidst the tanners, who have always been jealous of your stitching ... or maybe ..." she trails off with a thoughtful glimmer in her eyes ... bleary, red ones, mind you, as she scratches at her hand. "Lousy," she answers M'lan bluntly. "Hey, Taire ... what in the world's into you?"
Taire drapes the white cloth over the table, flattening a loving hand along the fabric with a caressing touch. "I think I've got my robe done. Just finished it a moment ago." Sighting an invisible smudge, fingers dab along the hemline of one of the sleeves. "Do you think you could take a look 'n see if'n it needs anything else. Just so long as it doesn't fall off in the middle of everything?" Tongue darts out momentarily to wet parched lips, dry from nervousness. Gaze flickers to M'lan, and the girl sort of chin-bobs to him in greeting, before casting wary eyes back upon the ex-Weaver Journeyman.
Cera looks over teh white fabric, ignoring M'lan for a moment as she inspects the work with a carefully trained eye. Pondering a moment, Cera sets the klah mug down, and reaches out to life the robe, looking at each seam carefully, before smiling and folding it neatly. "Aye, it looks great, Taire. You spent some time on this," she comments, handing the robe back. Then, Cera looks to the voice that spoke earlier. "Oh, been be..."
Cera blinks, blue eyes wide for a moment. Suddenly the woman blushes, and instinctively grabs her mug of klah and buries her face in it as she keeps her eyes on M'lan.
"That it does, Taire," M'lan says to her with a smile, before grinning at Kishairyn. "That bad? Glad I'm not the only one then." He runs his fingers through his hair, making a face to himself, and then smiles at Cera, "Settling in all right? I heard you talked to Siani, did that work out well?" If he notices any sort of staring, it's not obvious-- he simply continues to regard all three as he pours a mug of tea from the side table, taking a slow sip, and leaning his hip against its surface.
Kishairyn leans over, shoulders hunching slightly to give her better leverage as she peers at the robe. She whistles softly. "Hmmm ... maybe I ought to be working on mine soon," she ponders. She has the pieces cut, sliced courtesy of Menace's knife and ... has gone no further than that. "What's wrong with been better?" she wonders of Cera. "It's the truth, in'it?" She sinks back into her chair now, elbows scraping in a manner guaranteed to draw splinters. "What, the plants getting to you, too?" she wonders of M'lan.
Taire heaves a huge sigh of relief as she apparently gets the Official Cera Seal of Approval. A beaming smile lights up her face but a breath later. "Ohhhhh, that’s good...." she whispers, once more drawing a hand along the alabaster cloth lovingly. M'lan is clearly ignored. It’s only another one of those rider-people. They seem to plague the place. Imagine that. She shows M'lan the broad of her back as fingers pluck at a possible wrinkle and simply won't do at all. But Kishairyn's commentary is awarded a fleeting glance before proud eyes sweep back to her finished robe.
Cera blinks at M'lan, and just bobs her head up and down as she looks at him. Then, she suddenly turns away, looking at Taire's robe instead. Mug of klah -STILL- hiding her face, for the most part.
Chuckling lightly at Cera's expression-- or hiding thereof, M'lan turns towards Kishairyn, "Not exactly. Though I suppose paper could be termed from green plants?" He shrugs, and looks about, "I was considering heading to the sands-- have any'o you been involved in an egg-touching, of late?"
Kishairyn grins wryly. "Only if you're itching everywhere they've touched," she returns with a small grimace, starting to take her fists to her eyes, then stopping herself just in time. "What did you do, Taire? Think you could help me duplicate?" Why make her own mistakes, after all? She shakes her head quickly. "Not since ... not for a while."
Taire finally looks to Cera, quirking a grin at the way she is hiding herself. My. Whatever could that be for? A blink and she looks to Kish with a slight smile. "Aye... its just a first timer's luck. But I dare say I did a mighty fine job of it." *beam* Vigorous self fluffing of the ego ensues... She finally glances askance to M'lan, dark eyebrows striving for her hairline, "One of those egg touchings? Where you feel up the eggs? Never done one of those."
Cera blinks at her mug and looks to M'lan, and nods her head up and down, before looking back at Taire's robe. Shards, the woman'll probably bring that mug of klah with her to the sands!
Razel comes up from the lower caverns.
Razel comes walking out from the lower caverns, looking quite worse for wear. Seems this teen has been doing some heavy cleaning. The knees on her trous are worn and dirty, and her tunic looks none the better. However, she seems oddly happy. Must be because she's done with her chores for the day, hmm? Seeing the group of people gathered, she stands by until they've finished talking, and then clears her throat to be noticed... No interruption from her.
Well, one's sure one can find more. Chuckling softly, M'lan nods to the trio, saying, "All right then, come on...we'll do that, then." He turns his attention towards Razel as she clears her throat, and lifts a hand, "You might as well come as well, might as well get as many out there as we can, aye? Come on..." He trails off, and gestures, adding as he spots Cera's clutch on her cup, "Might want to put that down." With this, he turns to head towards the exit, whistling. Brusque sort.
Kishairyn picks up her mug and rubs it against the side of her eye, trying to relieve some of the itching in a rather creative fashion. She sets it down with a wobble - of both her and the mug - and rocks to her feet, padding after the rider. She gestures to Razel. "Come be crushed by the eggs," she invites the once-cook. "Ahh ... feel the eggs, Taire. Not feel them up," she corrects the other absently.
Taire's lips twist into a wry smile as she considers M'lan and the prospect of feeling eggs. No 'up' involved. "Just a moment. I've gotta go 'n put this back. I don't trust anyone if'n I left this out. Someone's steal it or somethin'" With that, the girl scoops up her finished robe to drape it carefully over her arm. And with nary a glance back, she strikes out for the caverns, her voice echoing behind her, "I'll catch up with ye."
Cera stiffens slightly, as she blinks at M'lan, and nods into the mug. She starts after M'lan, then blinks again. Blushing even more, Cera clears her throat and puts the mug down on the table, before clasping her hands tightly in front of her. Uh... yeah... let's go. No mug. Ayup!
Eggs? Fall on them? Oy. Shrugging, Razel states, "Well why not. Having them fall on me can't be any worse than having a cupboard nearly squish me to death." She watches as Taire wanders away with her robe in tow. "Hmmm.. Cera, you were a weaver. Gonna help me with mine? I'm having a problem with sleeves, you see.." In other words, she can't figure out how to add them. But that's a thing for later.. As for now, to the eggs!
M'lan simply shakes his head with amusement, and his voice comes from the passage out to the bowl, "All right, we'll meet you there, then, Taire. C'mon."
You pass through the exit into the sudden, shocking arch of sky over the bowl.
You start across the bowl, aiming for the great, dark entrance to the Hatching Grounds.
The awesome weight of a mountain looms overhead as you enter the Hatching Grounds.
You hesitate, wary of heat and possible unwelcome attention, but move out onto the sands.
Hatching Sands
Waves of heat wash fleeting mirages across the burning sands, adding to the unreal sense of age combined with agelessness that breathes within the sweltering air. Cowed by the cavern's stony immensity, the galleries huddle near the bowl entrance, below the tiered ranks of viewing ledges that, come Hatching time, hold the matching ranks of dragons who cascade encouragement and welcome to the young lives that begin here -- /here/ -- amid the sweaty shuffle and grit of whispering sand.
You see Sands Logger, Suyinth, Heralding Dark Warrior Egg, Fire's Oracle Egg, Tragic Redemption Egg, Water's Illusion Egg, Fortune's Beckoning Egg, Moon's Pale Tear Egg, Priestess of Avalon Egg, Ignoble Eidolon Egg, Pinnacled Spires Egg, Shadowed Thicket Egg, Cracked Coconut Egg, Apple of Hesperides Egg , Child of Sadness Egg, Love Potion Egg, Burning Coals' Challenge Egg, Fractured Symmetries Egg, Flower Bride Egg, and Yevgeth here.
V'len, M'lan, Razel, and Cera are here.
Obvious exits:
Exit
Kishairyn walks in.
Razel follows the weyrsecond, hesitant to step out onto the actual /sands/. She almost misses Cera's reply, as her attention is glued to the eggs nearby... However, attention is drawn away from said splendors by the heat emanating through the soles of her shoes. "Know how to make really thick soled sandals too?" she asks the weaver, before waving the question away, as it was in jest. Seeing the Apple of Hesperides egg up close, the girl nearly swoons. "Oh my.." is all she can comment.
And onto the hot sands they go. M'lan's gaze flickers about, and he says, "Don't be too loud, looks like Sia finally managed to sleep. Don't want to wake her." Turning his attention back to V'len, he says in a muted sort of voice, "'lo, V'len." He's fine, but then, he wears thick-soled boots for a reason.
V'len stirs, standing, wiping his face. Woke him again. All these sacrifices...now they're interrupting his beauty sleep. "Shhh... " he motions, finger to lips. "Yevgeth is very protective of his eggs. No sudden loud noises or movements or you could have an annoyed bronze on the sands." Not a good thing.
Kishairyn treads with cautious step, sloshing visibly in boots that really were made with someone with larger feet. She hesitates at the brink of the sands, then scuttles across the boundary as if afraid that, whatever disaster is imminent, it will strike there. She drops a brief curtsey to the dragons, never taking her eyes off them. "Hey, V'len," is murmured. "No worries."
Taire enters in well after the others, cheeks flushes from the coatless trip from cavern to sands and the fact that she ran the entire way. She scampers in at a full-run, breaching the cusp of the heated sands, and to come to a sudden and wavering halt. She would normal slide, but the entrenching, grasping way of the sands causes her feet to sink quite firmly. Arms windmill for a moment so she doesn't make a complete fool of herself and fall forward. That wouldn't do her nose or her ego any good at all. When all is at rights once more, she casts her best innocent gaze M'lan-wards, then beyond to V'len. "I... just... yeah..." She sucks in a great breath, flooding her lungs with the scorching air and wooshing it out just as quickly. Any sort of bow or curtsey-like movements aren't even considered. Not because she forgot, but because the possibility never even entered her mind.
M'lan chuckles lightly; he turns towards the candidates, "All right. I'm pretty laid-back in this, much like Sia. Just go to whichever egg or eggs you think looks most interesting, and touch it." He shrugs a single shoulder, gaze pausing upon one candidate or another, even as he makes his way over to stand not far from the slumber-stolen V'len. No beauty sleep. Awww.
Cera blinks at M'lan and blushes even more red, with the heat of the sands. Cera's blue eyes flick here and there... and finally, the former weaver just bows in general, even to sleeping Siani. Um... yeah. No sudden noises, no sudden movements. Shards, just don't trip, Cera. Now would be a BAD time to trip....
V'len is waiting, watching these candidates. Will they never learn respect? After all, he and Yevgeth deserve some fawning after all the time he's spent sitting out on the sands. "Yevgeth is waiting." There's a pained expression and then he continues. "For his bow? It's proper etiquette for the candidates when they come out to the sands." He rolls his eyes to M'lan, and then just ... stands. Impatiently waiting. You didn't think /he'd/ forget, did you?
Now that she's here, there's not much sense in bowing, but Razel does so anyway, since she sees Cera do it, and hears V'lens comment. It's a right proper bow too. Should be, since that draggie likes her baking and all. Gotta show some appreciation, neh? Then she heads closer to the Apples egg and slowly reaches out a shaky hand. "It's sooo beautiful," comes her awed statement, her emerald eyes widening as fingers get closer and closer to the wondrous shell. Finally, connection is made, and the teen gasps aloud (Though quietly).
"I curtsied," Kishairyn points out with an upward jut of her chin. She won't actually bow, not comfortable enough with the dragons to take her eyes away for the movement. She flashes a jaunty wave to Yevgeth, fingers twiddled, then straps on her courage and saunters across the sands, feet pronated heavily to get her to the Moon's Pale Tear Egg without mishap. Her fingers hover just short of shell, almost a traditional hesitation now.
Taire runs fingers through her braids, casting them off her shoulders and to her back with the characteristic tinkling sounds as beads clash against one another. With a fortifying breath to steady her nerves -not to mention make up for the lost oxygen from the sprint to get here, she casts a tremulous glance to Kishairyn, before striking forward. Booted feet punch depressions in the sands, 'til she is abruptly reprimanded by V'len. *blinkblink* Bow? "You 'spect me to bow to the creature who brought me here." Narrow-eyed gaze slips to Yevgeth, and it almost looks as though the girl is going to balk. A pause, and then she is finally bending in two with a bow to the dragon. "'Tis a pleasure, Yevgeth." Notice how she manages to stay out of slurping or biting distance. Emboldened, "Say... V'len? Might I ask a boon of you?" Better now than never.
M'lan simply ... shakes his head in amusement, and waits. He isn't a stickler for such things, but it does stand to figure that V'len would be. Lips quirking, he waits, not commenting either way on the subject, and rather casually falls to his haunches, sitting in the sand, arms cradling his knees. He glances towards Taire at her question of boons.
Cera purses her lips into a frown at V'len and shakes her head. "I did. Don't reprimand me for something you're not paying attention to," she comments, before making a meep of a sound and putting her hands over her mouth. Shards! She did it again. Cera just slides her way sideways, shooting Yevgeth an apologetic glance, towards the eggs, though none in particular.
"Boon? I don't think I have a boon. I didn't bring much to the sands." Not that V'len knows what a boon is anyway. "If you have a question or something, that's fine, though. I could tell you all about these eggs, all about Yevgeth... I'm sure you are interested." Of course they would be. Cera actually gets a tight smile. "You did bow. I saw it. I'm speaking to the rest of them here, Cera." He's even a bit civil about it. He does appreciate his fawning.
Razel squeaks! "Amazing!" comes her over excited exclamation. She hardly realizes that the noise was louder than warranted; so enthralled is she by the sensation that surrounds her. Hand removes from the egg, before touching again; this time, with a more firm touch. Her other hand joins the first, fingers questing across the smooth shell, seeking for more of the beauty and youth that the egg promises.
Kishairyn's shoulders jerk upwards, eyes widening. "Was it ... I didn't do it," she protests in a soft voice, though fingers are drawn almost magnetically back to the gleaming shell. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, though her eyes drift inevitably to watch the commotion around her. "You don't have to have a boon. You just give it," she calls to V'len for the sole - hopeful - purpose of confusing him.
Taire continues to sidle towards the eggs, building up her courage as her words are meant for V'len. "Well, I mighta heard somewhere that you're pretty good at knitting. And, I was like thinking... maybe you could help me out, seeing as your knitting abilities are rather well known. Being from the South, I've been finding this weather 'bout these parts rather chilly. Alrighty, maybe not chilly, its downright cold. 'N its gonna get colder from the way I hear people talk. So, I was wondering if'n you have the time... you might see fit to knit me something to keep me warm. Like some long underclothes.... maybe? If'n you've got the times." As she babbles, her steps finally take her up to brooding darkness of the Eidolon egg. A breath, and hands brush lightly against the shell.
Razel has to remove her hands this time, as what she finds within the curves and wondrous designs of the eggs threatens to steal her mind away. Fingers leave hesitantly, as though they long to continue to explore, but there are other wonders to visit at this time, and so, with a wistful sigh, the teen leaves the Apples egg behind in search of love potion number nine.. Ahem.
First a grey chill seeps through your hands and the ... it hits! An electric shock that grasps you and holds you tight to the shell for just a heartbeat, grasping towards your very soul before releasing and sinking back into the mists again.
Cera sighs in relief towards V'len and nods slightly. Of course, Cera's foot catches on a pile of sand as she wasn't watching where she was going. Before crashing backwards, Cera turns, trying to catch herself safely, and trying to keep from crashing into anything. Blushing a brigth red, even more red than when she entered the sands, Cera blinks, to find herself bent at the waist, having regained her balance, only to be a breath away from the Flower Bride Egg. Oh, yeah, just what she wanted. Go straight for the gold egg, like claiming it. Cera nearly whimpers, then looks around as she straightens. Should she touch it? Or should she leave it alone and move on to another. For what seems to Cera an eternity, the former weaver debates this in her mind, finally swallowing deeply, and reaching out with nervous fingers to press against the egg. Oh, Shards! Everyone is going to think she's so full of herself....
M'lan looks amused, glancing at Taire a moment; he mutters something under his breath, thankfully too low for V'len to overhear. Snatches of it do come along, "... poor girl ... " is just about the only thing terribly visible.
V'len cocks a brow. "Underclothing? You'd have me knit underclothing?" His voice is petulent, sounding, well, disturbed. "Of course I'm good in knitting, child! Have you never heard of Vallen, the textile artisan? /If/ you could afford my work, you'd be proud to wear it where all could see! But /underclothing/?" He snorts, kicking at the sand. "If that's a boon, I don't like them."
Kishairyn finds a smile quirking her lips, something whimsical in the expression ... impish, by the glimmer of her eyes, but though her fingers do a final skip over the shell, there is something more sedate about the motion than anything. "Vallen who?" she inquires, casting a blank look back over her shoulder at V'len. A puzzled look regards Cera. "What's it feel like?" she inquires as she steps sidelong towards the Fractured Symmetries Egg ... one would almost swear she's sneaking up on it.
And this would just have to be Taire's first experience with egg-kind. A gasp as she remains entranced, and then finally jerks her hands away from the egg with a wrenching heave. Eyes open as wide as marks as she regards Eidolon with a soft sigh. "Ohhhh, do that again." Fingers itch to reach out to brush the egg again, but she hesitates at V'len's words, taking a few steps towards him to next stand beside the Priestess egg. A petulant tone imbues her voice, "I was just asking, V'len. I mean... you were the one who hauled me up here, with only the clothes on my back! Fine... if you don't wanna do it or /can't/. Then so be it." She mumbles low, but purposely loud enough for V'len to hear, "Must have lost his touch..."
Cera blinks with the hint of a gasp, her blue eyes growing wide, before Cera narrows them at the egg. "Did... it just ... move?" she murmurs curiously, taking a step closer and pressing her other hand to the shell. "Siani said you could feel them... but..." Cera blinks, shaking her head, fascinated. "This is... " Then, she giggles, with a blush. It -is- interesting. "Oh! Feel... leathery. And... I think it moved!"
Razel understands how the others are feeling. It /is/ an odd and exhilarating experience. She hardly notices V'len's temper tantrum over Taire's 'boon', as her hands are now reaching forward; fingers begging to swirl around in the potion that causes strangers to become lovers, and lovers to become soulmates. Maybe, underneath this Potion's egg, she too will find someone to love?
M'lan simply shakes his head at V'len; he says to Taire with a smile, "If you want /real/ artistry, you should ask, oh, Anki or Cera...they're very good." He pokes a few pins in V'len's pride, mischievously, then glances to Cera, with a chuckle, "It very well could have, they do that sometimes, if only slightly."
Golden fibers snake through your mind, dominating all your thoughts and overshadowing all your dreams. Through the threads, there's a bright call that beams and then fades back into oblivion
P'tala ventures hesitantly away from the bowl entrance.
V'len widens his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. "Lost my touch? I'll have you know I'm still the finest knitter on Pern! If you care to wait, I could design you a lovely cabled cardigan in ecrus highlighted with ... hmmm, a forest and navy highlight? Oh, and that three on one ribbing that's so popular now... Yes..." V'len's now in another world of cables and yarns and textures. "I think the Seafarer's Cable down the center, and a double twist on either side..."
P'tala cracks her knuckles, arguing gently with the air over her left shoulder. She falls silent, though, as she pushes through the penetrating heat of the sands, sticking her tongue out, challenging the scalding temperature. Rolling her shoulders back, she nods to both the gold and bronze first, waving fingers at V'len before sidling up to M'lan. "Hey there."
Kishairyn blinks once, twice, trying to make sense of things. She peers narrow-eyed at the Fractured Symmetries, wondering if it has, indeed, shifted ... or if that was a mirage of her eyes. One thing is for sure, she keeps her attention on it, not quite trusting what the seemingly passive orb will get up to next. "Ecru? Isn't that a kind of bird?" she wonders, not in the least bit shy about foolish questions. "They don't move, Cera ... do they?"
"Hey," M'lan greets P'tala. It would appear from his expression that he's watching V'len and the candidates with some amusement-- especially at the other bronze-rider's boasting. His attention turns towards the green rider, resting fully upon her, and questions, "How're you?"
Taire's eyes drift shut as the soothing feelings of the Priestess egg waft over her, calming her no matter her current little tiff she is having with a certain rider. A breath and she releases, casting a glance to M'len. "Cera and Anki are busy, they being candidates as well. 'N I think I've bugged them enough 'bout my robe. That and you are just sitting here... on these sands...." She knows she is taking a chance with that last part, but it came out before she could stop herself. It’s about time a certain someone paid for rooting her up from her moderately pleasant life at Xanadu. Granted, it was getting dull... but still... "Aye... that'd be marvelous. Only thing is that I can't wear it." Finger pluck at her sleeve as she glares to him. "I've got a uniform to wear. And after the hatching, if'n I don't end up with a dragon, I'm going back home to Xanadu and a fat lot of good that'll do me." A contemptuous snort as she strides away to find herself near to Water's Illusion, deftly laying hands upon the shell with nary a thought anymore.
Cera arches an eyebrow at the egg, her eyes narrowed still... and she ... seems to cock her head, as if dubious, or listening for something. Then she blinks and looks at Kisha. "Yeah, feels like it. Odd. And Ecru... is off white. Nice, creamy color, hints at being brown. Good for the winter." Cera hrrms and shakes her head. She could be imagining things. After all... eyes flick left, then right, then back to the egg as Cera ponders. Is it time to move on yet? Perhaps...
Razel wants to continue to feel the Potion's egg, however, at the slightest sense of danger, she withdraws shaking fingers. Feeling drained, and yet oddly, fulfilled, the teen wanders forth to seek some other, safer, egg to play with. She joins Taire over by Water's Illusion, waiting her turn to look into the clear, reflective surface, and see what is hidden beneath.
Silver and ice blue shimmers with your touch, cool and refreshing at first, warmth radiating from within. Secret forms drift into view only to recede again before recognition, hidden by the ripples of the surface.
P'tala rolls her shoulders backwards, massaging shoulder muscles with the opposite hand. She's not soliciting for backrubs, no. "Not doing too bad, considering." Considering what? That's for P'tala to know, and you to find out. "You?" she asks, peering at the candidates curiously and pointing to an egg. "Oh, go touch that one! Right there!" It's hard to tell which exactly it is, but it might just be the bloodstained obsidian egg. "It's cute," she insists merrily.
M'lan chuckles lightly; he asks P'tala, glancing briefly to the conversing candidates, his voice coming nevertheless, "Considering what? If I might ask..." He pauses, and gestures with a hand, "I don't recall being so tentative...though I was cautious, I suppose."
Kishairyn winces at Taire's words, her eyes twitching furtively sideways as she regards the other candidate. Bold move ... "and what good will warm underwear do you in Xanadu, Taire?" she inquires. "I don't really see ..." she trails off, lips pursing into an "o" at Cera's explanation. "Of course. How silly of me. Seems a little impractical with all the dust and dirt, though, doesn't it?" Her touch on the surface of the egg is decidedly ginger, not taking it at face-value. Who knows what she might set off.
P'tala smirks and nods towards the eggs, shrugging her shoulders. "I picked one, then stuck with it. It's all right; no one else was touching it, and... well, I always thought it liked me." Pink tonguetip pokes out to moisten lips, a nail going to scratch an itch on her arm. "Considering... nothing," she says, mischief sparkling in a scandalous grin. "There's not too much to consider, but what little there is deserves a lot of consideration, don't you think?"
M'lan chuckles lightly, and notes to P'tala, his voice amused, "That made absolutely no sense." He peers towards her a moment, chuckling, "What little bit deserves a lot of consideration then, P'tala?" He can't help but snort at V'len. Original V'len, indeed. He turns his gaze back to P'tala again.
Taire shivers down to her toes as she finally releases her hold upon the Illusionary egg, little wherry-bumps coursing up and down her arms. That’s just what she needs, another feeling of cold that goes beyond her dusky skin to only warm her inner self. Gaze slips up, to meet that of Razel's. A soft smile tickles up one corner of her lips 'til she turns about to spy Kishairyn over the apex of the Thicket egg. "It'll keep me warm 'til I have to leave, under my uniform. Wearing some green cardi-whatever won't work now." Hands press against the shell of the shell of the egg, 'til she lifts slightly as her feel is feather-light. "All I wanted was something to keep me warm, V'len. But then I suppose I'll have to find someone who wouldn't wimp at such. Who'd a thunk it..."
P'tala turns to the other Weyrsecond (she is the One; he will always be The Other) and rolls her eyes. "Aww, I'm sure it made a little sense." The girl shrugs, a blankly innocent smile on her face. "A little bitta green, a little bitta bronze," she replies, quirking a brow at V'len and wondering, idly, "Why not? I mean, I'm sure Anki could help you. She does a lot of that kind of thing, and she's rather good at it, from what I remember."
Cera frowns at the egg, then shrugs. Blue eyes look around as Cera's hand falls off the egg. Hmmm, people are acting rather ... oddly, aren't they now. Then, she turns to frown over her shoulder at V'len. Shards, can the man get any -MORE- big-headed? If that is what Bronze riders are like... Cera shakes her head again, eyes flicking over the eggs. Well, let's see here... Cera shrugs and moves on, passing a couple of eggs, on her way around, pausing to brush her fingers across the Child of Sadness Egg.
Well, M'lan was Weyrsecond pre-P'tala, so he could be the Elder One. Morpheus, in other words. But not too Elder. Chuckling lightly, he shakes his head towards P'tala, watching her, then makes a jump of intuition. Might be wrong, but might not be. "Indeed, Anki's very good at it." He nods approval at P'tala, glancing again towards Cera and Kishairyn.
Any jump of intuition about P'tala is better labeled as a leap of faith.
Shadowed forest reluctantly reveals glimpses of a forbidden secret, horrifying, yet morsely beckoning. The odor of wood and moss mingle and twist through your mind, greens and golds and greys splashed with dangerous scarlet.
From the galleries, Arriving a bit late, a small figure appears at the top of the stairs and then heads down towards the front of the stands. Fynelox peers over the railing, if he's right then there's a heck of a lot more people down there than he's seen since the day of the clutching. "Hello?" his quiet voice echoes through the cavern as he leans forward a bit more, balancing over the railing.
Kishairyn looks amused. "Would you make me a V'len original, bronzerider?" she inquires over her shoulder. "Maybe something in blue?" She nods once to Taire. "True. Or you could always have him do something to match the uniform? Say, in fashionable stripes of ... eww," is her verdict, wrinkling her nose at the way she pictures it. "G'day, P'tala," she calls over her shoulder, though her focus is intent upon the egg. She puts her cheek to its surface for a moment, closing her eyes as if listening to a steady rhythm, then shakes herself and pulls away, meandering towards the Priestess Egg now. She pauses, glances up towards the stands, and waves an enthusiastic hand, though mindful of a slumbering Siani, she doesn't openly shout.
"Well, I could /do/ it. Of course I could do it. I can knit anything." Now they're intimating that V'len can't knit underwear? "It's just that my talents have been used for less... utilitarian garments?" A glimmer gets into his eye though. "Well you know, Taire, I do have some unscoured Shetland wool. Nice and ... warm." Itchy, too. "It's not the highest quality, so undergarments might work after all. He can get her back. "And if you'd like something, too, Kisha, let me know your specifications. Although, I recommend it be outerwear."
Blue eyes flick around the circle of eggs, looking at this candidate or that candidate. Then Cera purses her lips and looks down at the egg beneath her fingertips. Did it even move? Did she just imagine that? Cera shrugs slightly, leaning just a bit closer, to be certain.... Then she blinks and looks up at the stands and waves. Before motioning towards Fynelox to come down. "Hey!" she starts to say then blinks and clamps her mouth shut. Uh... yeah, Siani... asleep and all...
M'lan glances up towards the calling figure; he chuckles lightly, and calls out to Fynelox, "Hello yourself. Get down here if you like?" He sounds amused, "Have some down here, might as well have more."
P'tala looks up into the galleries, pressing her hand to her forehead in a thoughtless attempt to shield glare from her eyes. It only happens to shield glare /into/ her eyes... But still. "You!" she calls out sharply, gesturing the lad towards her, as if he should climb over the railing and hop down to the sands. "Come down here! Take the stairs. Onto the sands, lad, now!" And on a lighter note, "Hey Kisha."
What a contrast.
P'tala has oomph, is all.
So does M'lan. When it's necessary.
With P'tala, it's always necessary.
Taire fills her lungs with the air of the sands instead of what she was feeling through the Thicket egg. Sadly disappointed at the loss, fingers remove from her fleeting touch on the egg. Gaze flickers as she hears Fyne's voice from afar and above. She blinks and glances up to him. A wave is sent to him before the girl turns aback about to spy V'len yet one more time. "You mean that you actually use things that are less than what you typically work with. I'd hate to have anyone know that. Wouldn't you?" She takes a long step away from the eggs, having groped enough for now.
Gabriela ventures hesitantly away from the bowl entrance.
Kishairyn shakes her head over at V'len, a smile - or is that a smirk? - twitching across her lips. "What sort of specifications do you need? Do I have to tell you the exact stitch?" Innocence in her eyes, as if the question were quite earnest. Her eyes are comically wide as she regards the egg, the sound still reverberating in her ear as she moves on. Or did she imagine all of it?
Fynelox climbed over the rail, really. u.u Dropping the last foot or so, he lands gingerly enough, heading towards the others sort of hesitantly with his eyes alternatively regarding the dragons and well... P'tala. She's scary and he's shy. Not a great combination. "It's okay to be this close?" The other candidates *cough*Taire*cough* have been telling horror stories you see.
Razel reaches her hand to finally touch at the Water's Illusion egg. Diping her fingers into its murky depths, she stands still, awaiting any sensation from this particularly lovely wonder. She had seen Taire's look, and the way the other girl shivered, so right away, the teen prepares herself for a blast of cool upon the heated sands.
P'tala nods to Fynelox, a bit more gracious now that she's had her fill of belligerence for the hour. "C'mon down. Touch gently. Don't hurt. Don't do anything gross. Find a favorite, or touch 'em all." Step right up; try your luck! A grin that does its very, very best to be warm is shot at Fynelox, and the girl nods. "Well, the rest are doing it. It's quite all right."
V'len shakes his head, all into this design stuff now. "Oh, no. I'll figure all that out. What I need is your measurements, and what type of garment you'd like. Hmmm... Looking at your figure, I'd not make it /too/ defining. You work with what you have, you know."
Ah, but all the stories will probably have accuracies in them. Chuckling lightly, M'lan turns towards P'tala, and he murmurs to her, "You might scare the boy to death if you're not careful."
Cera nearly yelps as she stiffens to stare at the egg beneath her fingers. Did it just try to bite her ear?
Taire giggles faintly as she starts for the exit out, having touched enough eggs today. Moderation is the key. "You just let me know whether or not you are gonna do it, V'len. It’s getting awfully nipply out there 'n all." Is a rather sad attempt at a goad, but she is out of taunts for the time being. A bob of her head in farewell to P'tala as she passes the rider by, M'lan gets a quirky grin, but she is more than done with V'len. And without a single by-your-leave, she departs from the sands.
