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Post by B'kay on Aug 8, 2008 8:55:56 GMT -5
It is raining, Mine.
Ravyna was struggling slightly to see the Hatching below, wondering why it was getting harder to do. She was thinking that the heat may be hazing her vision, when her dragon's thought touched her, filling her mind with Igrainth's puzzled emotions.
Raining? Hot as blazes, I wish it would rain out there, it might cool--
No, not out there. In here. It is raining in the Hatching Grounds.
It was only then that Ravyna realized that the haze that had gathered before her vision was in fact a physical fog, which, high up on the ledges carved in for smaller dragons and riders who wished to enjoy Hatchings together was actually at eye level and lower. And it was indeed ... raining.
Or at least letting go drops of moisture, small ones, a few at a time. She watched as little spurts of steam rose from the scorching sands below, and her thoughts were touched with dismay.
If this continued ... it was already blazing hot in here, and down by the sands must be far worse. What would happen if this continued? Would the eggs be all right? Would the dragonets suffer? Would the Queen Rider go belly-up in a faint ... for from where Ravyna was sitting, Penna already seemed to be tottering a bit.
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Caltrain, having labored all morning doing slaughter duty in the scalding heat, had lifted his feet from the sands and was perched like a wherry on the bench, arms wrapped around his knees. The sweat had plastered his normally unruly hair against his head and neck, and his tunic looked as if he'd just worn it for a swim in the lake. Having worked out of doors in the South all his life, he thought he was used to the way Rukbat could punish Pern in the summer months ... but this was worse than anything he'd ever seen.
When the first drop of water hit him, he thought it must be sweat from one of the neighboring onlookers, and scowled slightly. He felt curiosity and confusion flow down from Rapture at that point, and looked up to realize he could not see the ceiling, where the firelizards had perched to observe the Hatching.
What the...?
A tiny brown flitter parted the fog that was hovering there, and, with thoughts of apology for moving from his perch, and desire to see more of the hatching (which had been blocked from view), Rapture descended quietly and landed on his shoulder, just as several more drops of moisture hit the sands in front of him. They sent up little clouds of hot steam that hovered, rose slowly, and drifted across the sands.
---
When Lefayeth joined the Hatching, B'kay smiled across toward Kitari, trying to catch her attention with a friendly wave. It was then that he realized a fog had begun to form above, and brows raised in puzzlement, he pointed toward the ceiling, wondering if she'd noticed.
---
Gaylen continued to grin and clap and laugh. Did we mention that she loves Hatchings?
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Post by Mariya on Aug 8, 2008 9:12:59 GMT -5
Mariya jumped at the first drop and belatedly turned to her packs of herbs and plants. The packs! She checked them all to make sure that the contents weren't getting wet. Some of them needed to dry out and the wetter they were when they were hung up in the drying area, the longer it took and more chances of ruined herbs. Mariya prided herself on having never had a foray of ruined herbs since she had arrived her.
Tugging gently on the bridle, she turned the beast towards the stables, when the commotion between the brown and the 2 blues occured, a few gasps from teh crowd. She winced as the newly impressed Blue rider untangled the wings and tail. She finally moved when it was apparent that there wasn't any immediate need of a Healer down there. So once more she returned to the task at hand, and getting out of this oppressive heat of the Hatching grounds.
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Post by **Auria (etc)** on Aug 8, 2008 11:21:04 GMT -5
As the strange drops of moisture continued to drip from the clouded ceiling, steaming on the sands, the additional heat caused by the steam seemed to encourage, rather than deter, the eggs.
Meteor Shower and Clouds at Dusk were still trembling and vibrating, their hardened shells rattling together like castanets. However, it was the Sandstorm Egg that drew most onlookers attention, as it suddenly did the most bizarre thing.
It appeared to levitate ... moving jerkily across the sand toward the line of male candidates. Only those on the sands themselves, and at the lowest tier of the bleachers, could see that it was actually missing a large chunk of its shell, all along one side, and four bronze legs were sticking out of the opening.
The color of those legs was quite startling, a bronze that really was more a bright, polished copper. Verdigris-green shading colored the feet that shuffled through the sands, a few steps at a time. After each move, the egg would stop, shake violently, and a muffled sound would come from within. Oddly, however, the sound appeared to be less frustrated than ... amused!
Halfway across the sands, as many viewers watched in fascination, the Sandstorm Egg bumped soundly into the Crisp Autumn Evening Egg. This egg, just a few shades lighter than Sandstorm, had already begun to develop a thin spider's web of cracks along the surface, and those widened and spread rapidly with the contact.
The shell of the Crisp Autumn Evening Egg fell away in a crumble of shards, leaving a brown dragonet sitting in the pile. Drops of moisture fell on him and he looked upward, somewhat confused, his head tilted quizzically. His coloring was a deep, rich auburn all over, a beautiful match for the color of his egg shell. He appeared to be "tipped in rust", on muzzle and tail, the tips of his wings, and all four feet. The rust seemed to grow inward from his points like the tendrils of a vine, wrapping around his extremities and fading into the auburn of his hide, and painted his chest in a pattern that looked almost like a cross.
Once again, Penna gasped with surprise as another totally unique offspring of her lovely Plianth had appeared.
The brown seemed perplexed, and continued to stare at the "rain" as if he knew that this was something out of the ordinary, and he was almost offended by the phenomenon.
The Sandstorm Egg, however, was still making it's step-step-shake way across the sands. It was a slow and patient progress, as he grew closer and closer to the male candidates. At one stop, with a particularly energetic shake, the back half of the shell came off all together, revealing a rear end and tail which was that same bright polished copper all over, and gleamed in the light of the caverns. Droplets of moisture that fell from above beaded on the tail, causing the dragonet ... or what could be seen of him ... to shimmer. With less restriction to his movements, the little bronze moved more surely now, his slightly short legs carrying him forward.
Finally, unable to see where he was going, he bumped soundly into ... Sun Yew.
Pardon me, Mine, he said to the candidate who was already firmly connected to his heart ... Could you help get this shell off your Danteth's head? I am most hungry, and I do not think I can eat while wearing it.
The sight of his clutchbrother finding his Own brought the young brown out of his contemplation of the odd precipitation, and he stood and shook himself resolutely.
He marched toward the male candidates, and stopped for a moment, scanning up and down the line, as if measuring the quality of each. His head was held high, his gaze steady, and an air of noble assurance emanated from him.
Finally, certain, he walked directly to Aclaryn and looked the young man directly in the eye. Greetings, Mine-Lord, for your Atoth is here to serve and protect you, and to be your friend for life. I am sorry if I have delayed our meeting, but we appear to be having some unusual weather today. No matter, though. I love you and I am hungry. You may feed me now, and we will talk.
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Post by **Auria (etc)** on Aug 8, 2008 20:42:54 GMT -5
Sounds of cracking shells were increasing, as the fog lowered from the ceiling, the steam rose from the floor, and the "strange rain" continued to drip, drip, drip in the Hatching Grounds. The dragons and dragonets seemed to mind the oppressive heat very little, but the humans involved were beginning to suffer.
Penna's knees grew watery as the steam caused her skin to turn red, and the tunic and skirt she wore was plastered to her portly body. Her hair had ceased to frizz, and now hung in wavy, wet ringlets against her scalp and down the back of her neck.
She could barely see through the steam, but if she could, she would have noticed cracks growing and spreading on the Meteor Shower Egg, and the Clouds at Dusk Egg appeared to have gaps widening among its whorls of color.
The Firestorm Egg was responding to the intense heat by appearing to pulse, in and out, as if breathing, and the Fog Egg was rocking intensely as its namesake descended lower and lower from the lofty ceilings.
Plianth, unable to get a clear view of her clutch, was growing restless. Penna had all she could do to keep herself standing, and keep her dragon calm. Finally the former failed, and her knees gave out ... she collapsed to the rock ledge on which she stood, the heat scalding her where she sat.
"Can someone bring a chair?" she said, barely aloud, her voice scorched with the heat.
And then, in the center of the sands, the Meteor Shower Egg burst open, spraying shards of shell around as if they were indeed shooting stars.
The little dragon within was confused, unable to see clearly by the fog. He rose, a dark shadow among the white whirls of steam that hid his glorious hide. For glorious he was, a rich, deep blue that shaded to midnight on his undersides, and was spangled with what appeared to be stars. He was small for a blue, but strong and stocky, and with confidence and determination he began to range through the thick steam, seeking out the candidates, searching for the one who was His.
In his meanderings, he stumbled against the Clouds at Dusk Egg, causing it to roll forward, and as it did so it unrolled along the splits, as if a carpet of welcome was being rolled out. It revealed, at the end of the shell carpet, a dragonet of vivid emerald green. Like the steam that whirled around her, her hide bore light and dark ripples of color that danced and shone with almost metallic intensity. The vapor that condensed on her small form gave her even more of a shine. She rose and stretched her wings, lithe and graceful, and tottered gently forward, calling out quietly for Hers.
Penna peered through the vapors, struggling to see the dragonets on the sands, for she was certain more had hatched and could see them moving like a blue and green shadow across the grounds. Despite the poor visibility, the pair seemed determined to get their task done.
The little green came out of the fog like a vapor herself, in front of the line of female candidates. She ranged down the row, looking gently at each, her gaze innocent and benevolent.
Pausing in front of young Loana, her eyes whirled faster, and joy emanated from their sparkles. Oh, LoanaMine, she said, Your Esmerelth is so glad to find you. She was afraid you'd gotten lost in the fog!
The blue, however, was having a harder time, and was concentrating hard to unravel his situation. The fog seemed to want to foul him at every step, and his wandering through it had brought him into the center of a maze of unhatched eggs, which he was picking his way through carefully. He bumped accidentally into the Earthquake Egg, awakening it, and it began to shake and tremble like it's namesake. Bowing apologetically, the blue backed away from it, and found his tail banging up against the Firestorm egg, which was already increasing its momentum.
Finally, he reached the perimeter, and, once clear, seemed to know his way much more surely. He strode through the steam with determination, straight as rain, and pressed his moisture-covered head into Laerel's stomach.
Hello, Mine! the little blue said, I am Cantrionth and I knew I could find you! Do you have breakfast for me?
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Post by Shikai on Aug 8, 2008 21:28:40 GMT -5
Unlike others, Farallen had been immediately aware that the hatching had begun. The dragonhealer had been tending to the wing of an injured blue, who had torn the sail on some branches in the forest. It was healing quite nicely, thanks to Farallen’s care, and a smile spread itself across his face as he examined the improvement. “There, Nepecith, you’re doing much better! You’ll be good to go in no time.” He commented to the dragon, who warbled sleepily in response. Valkyrie was curled up on an unoccupied cot nearby, one eye half open as she watched the interaction between her rider and the blue. Initially she had not at all been pleased with how much time and attention hers had to allot to her larger cousins, but she had gradually come to tolerate it, and as a reward, was allowed to be in the infirmary while he worked.
The blue raised his head drowsily and sniffed at the air, although Farallen didn’t notice, being rather preoccupied with tending to the wing. Yet he did notice when the blue hide beneath his hands began to vibrate as the dragon started to hum! For a brief moment he looked quizzically at his patient, but then his green firelizard rose from her perch and flew to his shoulder, echoing the blue’s hum with her own smaller, though no less proud, voice.
“Oh! The hatching must be starting!” Farallen exclaimed, but his hands continued their work on the dragon’s wing. He wasn’t a candidate, and thus, didn’t really need to go to the hatching. He had mixed feelings about them, anyway. On one hand, it was exciting, and he loved watching the dragonets break free of their shells and go forth to find their ecstatic new riders. Unfortunately, they also recalled feelings of disappointment, from the hatchings he had stood as a candidate for at the old weyr, only to be left dragonless and wondering what was so wrong with him that none of the dragons wanted him. He was always assured, of course, by his friends and foster mother, that perhaps the right dragon for him simply hadn’t been shelled yet, or that some people just weren’t meant to be dragonriders. It didn’t make them inferior, just different. Nonetheless, Farallen couldn’t stop his feelings of self-doubt and unhappiness after each hatching.
And he did hate feeling that. He was happy enough as he was, as an apprentice dragonhealer, wasn’t he? He loved his craft, he really did. Perhaps it would simply be better to avoid the hatching altogether. Finished with his work, he gave the blue an affectionate slap on the shoulder. Yet, it would be a pity to miss it…after all, Brinne was a candidate, wasn’t she? He didn’t want to miss her impression! Besides, he had nothing else to occupy himself with now anyway. His mind made up, he bade Valkyrie to stay in the infirmary, and the green begrudgingly obeyed. With that accomplished, the dragonhealer set out for the hatching cavern.
He was late and he knew it, and Farallen only hoped that he wasn’t too late to see Brinne impress. Well, if she did impress, but why wouldn’t she? She was a wonderful friend, surely the dragons could see that.
Farallen slipped quietly inside, almost gagging on the thick, moisture-filled air as he did so. It felt like sand beneath his feet! Shards, had he come in the wrong entrance? He was definitely on the sands, he could see the eggs ahead! He blinked, trying to adjust to the haze, for he had indeed chosen an unfortunate place to enter from, where the fog was even worse. The stands, where were the stands? He stumbled forward, not trusting himself to do anything more than walk in a straight line, and as visibility improved, he caught sight of vibrant red hair, hanging luxuriously over the back of a white candidate’s robe. Brinne! He increased his pace, eager to see his friend, but realized that this was a bad sign – he was with the female candidates! Oh, where were the stands? He shouldn’t be here! However, as he turned to walk in another direction, he noticed that Brinne seemed to be falling! A trick of the steam? No, she really was losing her balance!
Farallen hastened forward, slipping an arm around Brinne’s shoulders as he came up beside her. “Hi Brinne!” He exclaimed in a loud whisper, smiling sheepishly at her. “Careful, you wouldn’t want to fall here! The sands’ll burn you!” He added, concern in his voice. “Are you alright?”
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Post by D'gellin on Aug 8, 2008 21:47:56 GMT -5
"Oh come on!" D'gellin huffed in frustration at the growing fog. Of all the times...Can you see anything, Lanny? Lancetoth craned his neck, trying to find a thin patch in the mist as D'gellin absently wiped some sweat off his brow. Not well! It is so very thick! The bronze lamented, leaning further enough over the edge to make his rider uneasy. ________ Q'tris sat up in his seat, narrowing his eyes through the mist to see the Hatching Grounds. "Peculiar weather." Brell commented with raised brows. "I don't envy Tril for being stuck out there in this heat." Q'tris' mouth formed a thin line of agitation but said nothing. "Oh ease up, Trissy." Brell thumped him on the back with a laugh. "I always thought you were happier during Hatchings!" "Generally speaking." Q'tris muttered, the muggy weather making him grumpy. "But the young people still on the Sands aren't Weyrlings yet...So I can't help feeling uneasy..." ________ It was becoming exceedingly hard to keep her focus. Trilia blinked blearily at the hazing Sands, little knuckles rubbing at her eyes. The excitement of the event was steadily being sapped by the hot weather. She looked up, face flushed with the heat and bangs sticking to the sides of her face like wet plaster. As more dragonets hatched and more impressed and more heat boiled in the arena and more rain pittered down with unfriendly hisses on the sand, Trilia's mood grew less and less enthusiastic. She was certainly still happy, definitely still overwhelmed, but she couldn't help thinking that it was just a little unfair that her first Hatching had to be in such miserable conditions. Or that none of the dragonets had looked her way even once. Or that she was beginning to feel just a little bit dizzy. Trilia's head spun, sucking in too-hot air. Being tiny as she was, the heat did not take long to root itself quite unjustly in her system. ________ This was just becoming torture. If Fallen had been showing any signs of falling victim to the endearing little dragonets, he had long since recovered. The oppressive fog had been one thing but as hot rain compounded the heated sauna of a Hatching Ground, Fallen found himself mentally cursing Araelen over and over. Fleetingly he considered that the traditional robes might have been more comfortable after all; certainly the white robes could not have been as hot as his casual wear. With great self-control, he managed to keep his hands from ripping his sweat-dampened shirt off. But as the fog blurred out the Grounds from view, Fallen didn't hesitate to pull the tunic right off and roll up his pants. Dramatic? Probably. But he wasn't going to make himself unnecessarily miserable for the sake of Araelen modesty. He only hoped this awful venture would end soon...
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Post by Shikai on Aug 9, 2008 3:59:02 GMT -5
Focused on the hatching as he was, Aclaryn hardly seemed to notice that his black hair was becoming damp and sticking uncomfortably to his neck. No, his eyes were riveted now to the Drought Egg, which seemed ready to burst at any moment! Out of the corner of his eye, however, he caught sight of movement from another egg, and instantly shifted his attention to it. A blue dragon! He glanced briefly back to the Drought Egg, but sadly, it’s efforts had waned with the blue’s arrival. Aclaryn turned back to admire the blue, which was easy to do indeed! He was a beautiful creature, with wonderfully rich royal blue hide, marked by spark-like speckles of electric blue.
A sense of longing overtook him, despite his efforts to squash it down. There was no guarantee the blue would pick him! In fact, it probably wouldn’t. Unlike the bronze, it was certainly possible, from what he had seen of the weyr’s blueriders. But he must not worry about that. If he was chosen, he was chosen, and if not…well, he’d figure that out when he got there. In the meantime, he’d best just enjoy the hatching and not worry about it! Sadly, as easy as it was to say, and as logical as it was, it was not at all easy to put into practice.
Nevertheless, he put up a valiant effort, turning his attention to the next blue to hatch. He was larger, more powerfully built, but not quite so beautifully colored. Very interesting, certainly, and the azure shade that colored most of him was lovely indeed! Aclaryn would be overjoyed to have either. Watching the antics of the two blues, as well as the extraordinary brown that hatched soon after (why, he looked just like a winged runnerbeast, imagine that!) took the edge off of his anxiety, as he allowed himself to relax and simply be immersed in observing them. He felt only a slight pang of disappointment when each chose someone else, a little stronger for the smaller, royal colored blue than his two clutchsiblings.
Fortunately, he was left with little time to dwell on that, for the Sandstorm Egg suddenly began to move…but without hatching first! Confused, Aclaryn peered more closely at it, certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him. Or perhaps it was all the accursed fog…wait, fog? He looked up, startled, as a drop of moisture collided with his cheek, like rain. He was inside, it couldn’t possibly be raining…Suddenly he was conscious of the horrid humidity, and, looking about him, found that his visibility was greatly impacted. He could see the eggs and the dragonets, although the more distant ones were rather fuzzy, but he had great difficulty making out where the stone walls of the cavern were anymore. Or the food tables for the newly hatched dragons, for that matter. It was surreal. As though the hatching wasn’t already the strangest day of his life! It was an emotional rollercoaster, of highs as he witnessed dragons hatch and was filled with hope as they came near him, and lows as self-doubt niggled at him and disappointment overtook him when the hatchlings moved on.
And that egg! It couldn’t possibly be floating! No…no, the dragon’s feet were sticking out from the bottom, he saw! Aha! He barely bit back a laugh at the sight. A walking egg! Despite himself, his shoulders shook slightly as he chortled. Ah well, the creature looked to be a bronze anyway, so it wouldn’t have chosen him anyway. He didn’t want to insult it, but the image was too hilarious! Fortunately, it almost looked like the bronze shared his amusement, for the sounds it was making were oddly like his own laughter, but in a strange, draconic manner, muffled by the egg shell. Well, at least the dragon had a sense of humor! He was saddened slightly by the knowledge that he had no chance with the bronze. It would surely be fun to have a creature like that allied with you. Aclaryn scanned the other eggs, searching for signs that one of them was close to hatching, and his green eyes came to rest on the Crisp Autumn Evening Egg. Conveniently, the bronze in the Sandstorm Egg was getting quite close to it, so he could watch both at the same time.
And just as the copper-colored bronze passed, the Crisp Autumn Evening Egg crumbled into countless shards, leaving a beautiful brown in its place. His hide was remarkably like the color of his shell, predominately rich, deep auburn, marked by redder rust brown. The brown was large and strong, but with a slimmer build, giving him a noble grace as he stared skyward, turning his head to examine the precipitation. Aclaryn could easily understand why, after all, the weather was bizarre! It was no small wonder the dragonet was confused. Aclaryn’s eyes lingered on the brown for a long time, watching his every movement as he surveyed the hatching sands. He clearly wasn’t in a hurry, setting aside his hunger and need for a rider to study the fog first. Realizing that he hadn’t checked on the bronze’s progress in a while, Aclaryn tore his eyes away, and caught sight of the creature with a boy a reasonable distance away from him. Ah, so he had found his. That was good, of course.
Aclaryn looked back to the brown, but he was not where he had been a moment ago! The candidate looked around frantically, and saw that the brown was now moving toward the line of candidates! His heart seemed to flutter in anticipation, for Aclaryn knew that he was being judged by the dragon. He straightened his posture subconsciously, trying to look more confident than he felt as the dragon’s head turned, scanning the candidates. What a manner this dragon had about him! He seemed to have no problem being confident, for he radiated an air of self-assuredness and nobility. Aclaryn felt anything but self-assured today, his usual air of confidence shattered by so many hopes and rejections. He had no chance with such a noble, powerful creature, who was he kidding? As Treylis had said, they weren’t even real candidates, chosen because they possessed the necessary qualities to become dragonriders. They were nothing but the weyr’s prisoners, to serve as an example to the Holders not to defy the weyr’s authority. An example of the power of the Weyrleaders. He couldn’t impress the brown, but he wanted it so desperately!
And then the brown seemed to make his decision, walking directly – no, it wasn’t possible! – to Aclaryn. Was he coming to him? No, no, it was too good to be true, the brown was headed for one of the boys next to him, he knew it, better not get his hopes up, better prepare himself for the rejection –
But no rejection came. The dragon looked him directly in the eye, and it seemed as though he could see right through the jade green irises and dark pupils to Aclaryn’s very soul. Aclaryn met the dragon’s gaze, staring in awe at the faceted eyes, now beginning to whirl in a magnificent display of all the colors of the spectrum…and he fancied he could see the dragon’s soul too, embracing his own, melding with it, tying them together into a single entity. It was the most wonderful, indescribable feeling…
Greetings, Mine-Lord, for your Atoth is here to serve and protect you, and to be your friend for life. I am sorry if I have delayed our meeting, but we appear to be having some unusual weather today. No matter, though. I love you and I am hungry. You may feed me now, and we will talk.
Aclaryn could only continue to stare, caught in one of the truly rare moments in his life when he was struck completely dumb, as the dragon’s words flowed directly into his mind. Atoth’s every word struck him to the core. Serve and protect you…friend for life… He reached out a hand tentatively, and Atoth shifted his head slightly to look at it as Aclaryn gently touched the brown neck, running his fingers delicately over the soft, moist hide. The hide of his very own dragon! All his speculating, his observations of other dragons and their riders and imagining what the bond they shared must be like, seemed quite silly and false. He couldn’t possibly have imagined this! Such love, such unconditional acceptance…“Atoth?” Aclaryn repeated, testing out his dragon’s name and the loveliest word in the world. The dragon’s eyes met his again, in an expression of quiet, knowing patience.
As Aclaryn admired his dragon, however, the fog suddenly seemed to intensify, for the image of the brown dragon before him was getting fuzzy! He blinked, annoyed, and felt moisture ooze over his eyelashes, and a drop rolled down his check. No, it wasn’t the fog, it was tears. Tears?! Hastily, Aclaryn rubbed them away, lest anyone see him.
It’s alright, mine. Impression is an emotional time for anyone, I’m sure. The brown said, and reached his handsome face forward to nuzzle his rider gently. Aclaryn hugged his arms around Atoth’s neck, eliciting a muffled noise of surprise from the dragon. Atoth…I can’t believe it! I impressed, and you…surely you’re the most amazing dragon in the world! He exclaimed, letting out a laugh of pure ecstasy as he released his dragon’s head. “You’re hungry, right? Let’s get you some food, then! Right away!”
The candidate – no, weyrling, broke out of the line of candidates, leaving them behind to take his place at the meat tables with the other newly impressed. But where were the tables, exactly? “Hmmmm…” He voiced his perplexion, pausing as he turned his head left and right. “Oh! I think they’re this way!” He said, pointing in the direction he thought he remembered seeing them, and Atoth raised his head, sniffing. I believe you’re right! I can smell the meat. Ah…oh, I am hungry… The brown said, looking down at his stomach as it emitted a loud rumbling noise. And he was right, fortunately, for as they drew nearer, they could make out the tables through the steam. Aclaryn walked with more pride than he had ever felt, his hand resting on Atoth’s neck lest the brown should stumble (not that that was likely, as the dragon was handling himself remarkably well), for surely, he had the most beautiful, handsome brown in all of Pern! He quickly got some meat for his dragon, although not before scrutinizing it carefully to ensure its quality, and began feeding Atoth.
Ah, thank you Aclar…A’lar…Hm, what shall I call you? The dragon asked, looking up thoughtfully from his food, his head tilted to the side as he gazed at his rider. “Oh!” The weyrling exclaimed aloud. His name wasn’t the easiest to shorten. He frowned slightly, perplexed, and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to figure it out. But let’s get you fed first!”
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Post by B'kay on Aug 9, 2008 8:15:06 GMT -5
B'kay could barely see, from his vantage point above the sands, what was going on below him. The steam from the strange rain inside the caverns had caused a thick fog blanket down below that was slowly rising to meet the one that descended from above. He could see enough to know that candidates were Impressing and dragons hatching ... but it was hard to tell what colors until someone close to the scene would call out the color and name of the candidate they chose.
He could also see enough to know that Penna had swayed and gone down, heard someone relay a request for a chair. He could see some of the candidates, too, standing on the scorching sands, act like they may be faltering.
Shards, this heat was enough to boil a person from the outside in, and some of those candidates were so young.... Would he lose half his new Weyrling class to this bizarre situation? The Hatching Grounds were turning into a steam cooker!
Syth, best make sure the Healers are on this. Iced water, towels soaked in the same, whatever herbs they have to combat heat stroke.... The Weyrlingmaster thought they probably already were mustering their forces ... but best not to take chances.
Syth grunted in assent, and relayed the message to C'lyn's Greylith.
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Caltrain was straining his eyes, even though he had one of the closer vantage points, to see those candidates farthest from him, and a few times he'd even lost the details of the eggs in the growing fog. And it was becoming thicker. He watched as Aclaryn and his new brown life's mate were struggling to find their way through, and it dawned on him that in the thickly growing steam, he actually lost sight of the pair completely a few times.
Why ... they were having trouble finding the alcove that held the meat tables.
He thought hard, not knowing what to do to help ... after all, his beasts, his meat, he felt responsible for making sure these young ones were well fed. And then, he had a thought.
Young though Rapture was, he was definitely a willing little flitter, and he'd already learned a few commands and tricks. Caltrain sent an image, as clear as he could make it, to the pretty little brown. Rapture sat on his knee, tilting his head back and forth quizzically, and finally gave a cheep of understanding and flew to the feeding area, clinging just above the tables that held the large tubs of meat.
And the little brown began to sing ... a welcome song, a "come hither" song, and did his best to send out images of juicy, fresh meat to whatever hatchlings could receive them.
There ... even if the riders couldn't see, and the fog confused the dragonets' sense of scent, they should be able to follow the little firelizard dinner bell to the food!
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Post by Flamewolf on Aug 9, 2008 16:13:18 GMT -5
((OMG. I love Danteth!! Thank you! Now...erm...what is Sun Yew's shortened name? Lol.))
It was the heat. That's what was making this take forever and seem more of a nightmare than a dream.
Yeah. That was it.
But really, it wasn't. Sun Yew was bored out of his mind, standing there with the scalding heat underneath his feet and probably tanning his skin, it was so bad. Although the robes were thin and light, it still seemed too much for this weather; he'd rather go jump in the lake at this point! But he couldn't.
It was only partially because it was a hatching and could alter his life forever. No, the most influencing part was the fact that he was too hot to move x.x
He stood with his arms crossed, legs weak from the heat, and he couldn't even talk- his throat was parched and scratchy already. So he just stood there and glowered at the heat waves rising from the sands, only barely glancing to the shattering eggs and crawling dragonets.
Until one hatched, that is.
Something seemed to grasp his attention and his gold-brown snapped over to the Sandstorm egg as it cracked in half. He smiled faintly as the dragon's hind quarters planted into the ground and it started to walk. He had to admit, the bright, glowing copper hide was very impressive, but the whole predicament was hilarious; if his throat wasn't so parched, he'd laugh. But he didn't trust it.
He continued to watch as the dragonet stumbled right over to him, now eyes wide and amusement gone as it STILL came straight in his direction, until finally bumping right into him. He stumbled slightly, for only that dragonet had had the power to move him from his planted position.
"I..." he couldn't even speak. His voice cracked and he winced. Stupid heat. Sticking to silence, he slowly, cautiously lowered himself down closer to the sands, the heat rising considerably. Squatting, he, still disbelieving and in a daze, lifted the shell off of the dragon's body. He set it down beside him.
The moment his gaze returned to the dragon's, it clicked. The warmth of impression swept over him, and his eyes became watery. And even though he'd never admit it and swear it was the heat's fault, it wasn't. Now he could say- er, think- the one sentence he had wanted to think his whole life.
That's my dragon.
And then something else watched over him to make him laugh. And it hurt. But it was worth it. "You weren't kidding. You ARE hungy," he thought to the bronze without a second thought, using their link as if it was second nature.
Why would I kid about something like that? Now, show me where it is, for I certainly don't know. Danteth looked a tad amused and waited patiently.
"Right. Maybe then we could get out of this ridiculous heat earlier. Let's go!"
((Boy that was fun to write. Haha.))
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Post by C'lyn on Aug 9, 2008 16:31:51 GMT -5
C'lyn was already hurrying over toward Penna as Greylith relayed Syth's message. He had a large skin of ice cold water over his shoulder and he snatched up a couple of towels as he hurried to the gold rider. He glanced up as a droplet of water hit him on the cheek. He frowned and shook his head, this couldn't be a good sign.
He knelt beside Penna and poured enough water onto the towels to dampen them and then gently pressed the skin into her hands. "Drink it slowly, do not gulp it or it will make you sick," he told her gently, pressing the cool towel to her forehead.
~~
L'kas had done his best to try and hold Penna up, worried about the woman. He blinked at the water droplets and shook his head. He left Penna's side long enough to find a chair and carried it back to her. He nodded to the Weyrhealer who had come to aid the Junior Weyrwoman.
He knelt to help her into the chair. "Are you alright my lady?" he asked, genuinely concerned about her well being. He took one of the dampened towels from C'lyn and gently pressed it against the back of her neck, hoping the cool cloth would help with the heat.
He was terribly hot himself, but wasn't close to collapsing from it thankfully. "Some one needs to tell the kitchen workers that we are going to need a lot of ice water ready for everyone," he said, glancing around for someone to relay the message to the lower caverns. He didn't pay much attention to the hatching, something he normally enjoyed, he was too worried about Penna to enjoy it.
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