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Post by Shikai on Aug 21, 2008 18:08:52 GMT -5
D’rom trudged toward the lower caverns, his usually good posture slightly slumped as he walked, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat. That had to be, without a doubt, the most physically and emotionally draining hatching he had attended since the day he had impressed his own Faerth! He was surprised the poor candidates hadn’t all gotten heatstroke and passed out on the sands, although a few had looked quite shaky. Even he had been feeling rather ill, and he had the good fortune to be up in the stands!
But deplorable heat and surreal, bizarre steam aside, the hatching had been a relative success. Twenty-four beautiful, healthy dragonets had hatched and managed to find their riders despite the challenges of the weather. There had even been a gold, which he had never expected from Plianth, but then, Thread was fast approaching, and queens had a way of turning out extraordinary clutches in times of need. Even golds as pudgy as Plianth. There had even been four bronzes! Aside from the incident with the new queenrider, as well as a few injuries, it had gone well. No deaths, and no unhatched eggs. That was what D’rom looked at, so in his mind, it had been a good hatching.
Now, to meet the proud new weyrlings and enjoy a good meal! Even D’rom liked Hatching Feasts, although a part of his mind always spoiled it somewhat by wondering, when he observed the new dragons and their riders, which ones would make it through their first Threadfall.
As he made his way into the lower caverns, he noted that the final touches were now being made to the preparations. The tables were set, laden down with all kinds of delicacies, and both wine and klah looked to be in ample supply. He picked up a glass of wine, taking it to a table and seating himself so that he had a good view of the entrance. The Wingleader sipped at it, waiting for the new weyrlings to arrive.
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Post by D'gellin on Aug 21, 2008 23:30:58 GMT -5
Fallen was in a daze. Or more appropriately put, he was in denial. He simply could not grasp the concept that he'd Impressed. Let alone that Vicroth was now forever his, forever there for him. It was too surreal. And while Vicroth's gentle consciousness felt strangely familiar, the breach in his mind was still a little frightening. The dragon was commenting on his thoughts before Fallen could even sort them out himself! There is no need to fear, Mine. We will figure this out together. Vicroth assured his, leaning into the young man's side as Fallen moved woodenly down the hall. "Right..." Fallen replied absently, thankful for the words of concern but resentful of them as well. Fallen did not like the word 'we', not when applied to himself. Fallen was an 'I', a singular, not a plural.
Well I have changed that, mine. "Stop doing that." Fallen snapped suddenly, rubbing at his forehead. Doing what, mine? "That! That talking in my head thing. It's driving me crazy." Fallen muttered under his breath, looking around self-consciously. To anyone else he might have looked crazy too. How ever would I talk to you then? He sounded a little hurt. "I don't know." Mine, is there something I can do to make you feel better? "My name is Fallen, Vicroth." Fallen protested wearily. Vicroth snorted. Well I do not care what your name is. I am yours now and you are mine. If it will make you happy, I will call you Fallen. Although I believe you were thinking something earlier about honorifics. And in that case you should be F'len, correct? "No. I was born with the name Fallen and I'm not changing it for some sharding Weyr's peace of mind."
Vicroth quieted, and Fallen was left to sort through his thoughts alone again. But the emptiness of his own mind was suddenly too vast. He felt like he was floundering in open water with no land in sight. "Vicroth?" He cried, mentally reaching out for the dragon before he could stop himself. I'm right here, Fallen! I will not leave you. The young man sighed with a mixture of frustration and relief, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't make heads or tails of anything...All he knew was that he had to stop making Vicroth feel bad. It hurt too much when he did. But was that Fallen's own regret or the pain of his dragon?
You are hungry. "Excuse me?" That is not my hunger you feel, mine - I mean, Fallen. I am quite full. That is your own hunger. The unwilling weyrling opened his mouth to protest but his growling stomach betrayed him. Vicroth rumbled with quiet laughter, his eyes lighting. You should eat, Fallen. Is there not a celebration going on now? That has food, does it not? "I don't exactly feel like celebrating." Fallen murmured. It was only then that he realized they'd been wandering the halls without a destination. As soon as Vicroth was done eating, Fallen wanted only to get away from all the people. There were too many people. And he didn't want to be part of them. He was sparate. He'd always been separate. But once he'd left, he didn't know where he was supposed to go. He was no longer a candidate. And now that he had Vicroth he couldn't leave. Shells, he didn't even know where the weyrlings barracks were!
Perhaps we do not know where to sleep, but I know where there is food. Vicroth tilted his nose to the air, sniffing around in a circle. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed, Fallen would probably have laughed. A small smile did manage to crack across his face. Catching the delicate shift in his rider's mood, Vicroth took full advantage of it. This way, mine - Fallen! We have gotten side-tracked but I believe we were the first weyrlings to leave the Hatching Grounds. We should be the first to the feast! Come! And with that, Vicroth trotted off with determination, large head held high, wings slightly-unfurled to keep his balance.
Despite himself, Fallen put a hand over his face, hiding his silent expression of laughter. Vicroth, you look ridiculous. He wasn't conscious of the fact that he'd just spoken to his dragon without physical words for the first time. But Vicroth was. You will be thankful when we are first! He replied cheerily. It was in this fashion that the two arrived at the feast. AHA! We are the winners! "The winners of what?" Of getting here before my clutch-siblings. Now please go eat. I can feel your hunger and it is almost as bad as mine was!
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Post by Kain on Aug 22, 2008 1:30:02 GMT -5
This was not where L'rel wanted to be. No, in fact, he'd much rather be by the side of his oh-so-precious Cantrionth. But his noble blue had insisted that L'rel at least make an appearance at the prestigious after-hatching Feast. So here he was, standing awkwardly by a platter of meat, wondering if he should get any for his blue.
His blue. A subject that required so much thought- and yet so little. He'd felt the briefest twinge of regret that he'd not gotten a brown, but that was hardly worth a second thought. Cantrionth was a superb dragon, and L'rel wouldn't have him any other way. The bluerider smiled indulgently as his thoughts turned to the tiny dragon. Cant, the boy called, are you still awake?
I am now, L-mine. L'rel could hear the sleepiness in the dragon's voice, and immediately regretted waking the poor thing. Did you want something?
No! No, you can sleep. I just wanted to... see how you were. Sorry for bothering you!
You never bother me, mine. Just- perhaps you could not-bother me when I wake up?
Of course, Cant. He smiled again, promising himself that he'd try to snag a treat for Cantrionth in exchange for disturbing him. L'rel glanced around, watching for something to do. In the end, he settled on getting a plate with some tubers and a thin slice of whery and stopping at an empty table. He picked at his food, watching the others. The feast was really just starting, so there wasn't much to watch, but L'rel was really just not in his element. The hatching had been a good one, excepting the heat, and so there should be a good feast, right? Or maybe he was underestimating the effect the heat had been on some. He got off lightly, having only been on the sands for much shorter than some of the other candidates.
Now, what to do?
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Post by Cilnah on Aug 22, 2008 2:44:51 GMT -5
'What are you talking about?' Cilnah asked, watching the small, slightly pudgy brown flitter as he opened and resettled his wings repeatedly. It seemed that he wasn't adjusting so well to his new, larger cousin. He hadn't set still for a moment since she'd run back to the candidate's barracks to get him. But there was no air of disturbance about him, or projecting into her mind. So she couldn't figure out, was he uncomfortable with Basyth's presence, or simply unwilling to settle down? One thing she did know, though. Makamae was hungry. He made no point about hiding that! He was keening obsessively about it. Though the blue dragonet moving along at her side seemed to take no notice, even when the brown settled on his shoulders.
I can't believe you didn't notice it, Mine. That rock face looks exactly like a feline stalking a fingerling.
She almost laughed at Basyth's insistence. But she bit that back, not wanting to offend her new bonded. She had waited far, far too long to do anything to jeopardize the relationship that was just beginning to form. 'I will be sure to study it next time I go passed, she agreed. For all she knew, it just might look like that! She had never paid much attention to the formation, after all. As she was pondering this, she found she had come across the dining hall. There was almost a grimace on her face as she looked at it, decked out in splendid fashion for the Hatching Feast. She had worked long and hard cleaning this place! But she sighed. It would never stay clean, that much she knew well.
Her musings were cut off by another keen as Makamae moved from Basyth's back to her neck, hiding once more behind her fall of blue-black hair. She heard the blue chuckle softly. It seemed that he, at least, had no problem with the little one. She wondered briefly if he would react the same to his over rambunctious playmate Tepo.
It seems the little one is hungry, Mine. He will not stop calling to be fed. Perhaps it would be best if you fed him some of the meat. As if sensing that they were talking about feeding him, Makamae gave another, rather loud keen. Both dragon and rider winced. Perhaps over there at that nearly empty table?
Cilnah nodded her agreement, and treked over to the table, where only a single boy sat. She kept her hand on the flitter's head, rubbing him in comfort, hoping to keep him quiet so as to not attract attention. Hopefully, the boy would not mind the company. "Hello," she greeted with a bright smile, taking a seat across from him, and picking out a smaller piece of meat. Makamae fairly gobbled it, then demanded more, and the girl sent him a disapproving thought. "Be careful of my fingers!" she warned in as menacing a voice as she dare. The creature was sensitive, after all, and still young. After two more snaps of meat, she turned to her own meal as her stomach rumbled, Basyth seeming satisfied for the moment.
He is bonded to my clutch-mate, Cantrionth.
Cilnah had to look at him blankly for a moment, watching the sky blue dragonet with an affectionate, amused look. 'Basyth, darling mine, I don't know the names of your brothers and sisters yet, she reminded him gently. If a dragon could blush, this one would, she could feel it in him.
Oh. Of course. Cantrionth is the blue with almost black markings.
She couldn't suppress a grin. So this was on of her fellow weyrling blueriders!
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Post by Kain on Aug 22, 2008 3:11:46 GMT -5
The bluerider's plate was almost empty in a matter of minutes. He hadn't gotten much to begin with, and the fact that he was a bit nervous really didn't help with conservation. He nibbled on the end of a tuber as his eyes flicked all over the room, watching parents congratulate children and older riders reminiscing with each other Someday that would be him.
L'rel was just starting to get bored of the feast when someone took a seat near him. He didn't recognize the girl except as a fellow weyrling- and a bluerider, at that. It helped that her dragon was right there. A girl with a blue? Odd, but if that was what fit, L'rel couldn't really criticize it. She had a brown flit, too. S'pren was focused on the firelizard when she spoke to him.
He flustered, not really expecting her to- well, want to talk to him. He didn't know anyone, but she probably did! Why wasn't she talking to her friends? Then it occurred to him that she was probably just being polite, since he'd had the table to himself until this point.
"Hello," he replied, nodding at the girl. He smiled vaguely at the brown flit's antics as his thoughts scattered back to his own blue. He wondered if the blue would like each other. He struggled with words for a minute before deciding just to remain silent. If the girl wanted to talk, she could start the conversation.
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Post by Monkeyfuzz on Aug 22, 2008 11:34:31 GMT -5
"Now this is something I can feel comfortable going to."
Jermashi- that is, Je'shi- was walking alongside his brown proudly, excitement lighting up his eyes. The tall, lean Weyrling was rich in amazement, wonder, all around awe for the first hatching he attended and the ways it changed his life forever.
Mine, you are truly an amazement yourself, the dragonet spoke up, pacing alongside his rider awkwardly. His wings were folded and now he was only focusing on getting to the Hatching feast in one piece. Not that he was worried, however.
"Why thank you, Porth," the weryling responded with a slight teasing tone, smiling widely. Porth snorted in amusement, then lifted his head a little higher, extravagantly unfurling his wings and holding them aloft. What are you doing? Je'shi questioned him silently, eying the entrance to the Lower Caverns, where the feast was to be held.
Mine! You should know that my wings are my best feature, his voice was placant but proud. Je'shi roared into laughter.
Everything about you is a best feature, Porth, he corrected. A moment later his outlook darkened considerably as he caught two figures ahead of them, slipping into the room.
What is it, Mine?
Them.
And Them would be Aylana and Aladath, of course. The pair were quite happy, with the blue nearly prancing alongside the skipping Weyrling. She was astounded that she had skipped the Candidate stage and right to weyrling hood; she'd only been a stable hand, on the stands! Who would've thought that she'd impress? Aylana-mine, there are your...acquaintances again!
The girl chanced a look over her shoulder and nearly had a giggling fit, which was very unlike her. He looks positively furious. Oh well. Let's see how many of your clutch-mates are here. The pair calmed their pace into a walk as they stepped in, Aladath immediately noticing a sibling, while the ex-stable hand peered around to see if she knew anyone. Once they moved away from the entrance, Je'shi and Porth followed, Porth looking around in bemusement while Je'shi glared at the retreating form of the blue Weyrling.
Fun, fun, fun, indeed!
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Post by Flamewolf on Aug 22, 2008 11:58:23 GMT -5
What are you planning, mine?
The young Weyrling scoffed. "Planning? Me? I am shocked, Danteth," he protested mildly, mind still churning with ideas.
I may be young, but I know you well enough.
"Which is still an amazement to me," Sun Yew pressed, eyes sparkling slightly.
The bronze huffed, lifting his gaze to stare into his bonded. I know you're up to something, mine, and it's an amazement to ME that you can keep it from me.
The Jr. Weyrling stopped, turning to him with a pout upon his features, gray-gold hair sticking to his face because of the untimely heat they had just endured. "That hurts, Danteth. It really does."
The bronze stared at him for a moment, before snorting in laughter. You are absolutely ridiculous, S'yew, Danteth shook his head before continuing.
"You bet. That's why you chose me, isn't it?" He continued on, not needing an answer from his dragon, already knowing it. "Where are we going, anyways?"
Mine! Surely you hadn't forgotten the hatching feast already!
"...Of course not."
Danteth once again snorted in laughter. You are ridiculous, S'yew.
"Of course I am!"
*~*
*You are going.*
~But shouldn't this be a chance to get to know him better? Not to speak with all the other weyrlings whom probably are in the same predicament-~
*KY!* At the roar, Kyeidahel winced. *That may be so, but you have your whole life to do that. If you don't go, the higher ranks will think they can push you around-*
"That's all you ever think about, Hel, is rank! Why can't you just chill for once!" Kyeidahel exclaimed, outloud, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
I swear, you two argue more than a married couple. Both alter personalities turned their attention to the blue, Kyeidahel blinking in surprise. I am right here, you know. And yes, we should go. It'll be fun.
*Might as well be married.*
Kyeidahel huffed. "Hel, I thought you were straight."
*Shut up.*
Jeklyth rolled his eyes and continued on, arriving at the hatching first, eyes bright. Stop lagging behind, mine, I see a whole bunch of my clutch-mates here! The dragon paused and looked behind to him. Don't forget, you're Ky'hel now.
Ky'hel smiled faintly and followed his dragon inside. Both Ky and Hel agreed; this would be an interesting hatching feast indeed.
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Post by Cilnah on Aug 22, 2008 14:38:07 GMT -5
Well. That wasn't exactly a conversation starter, was it? Cilnah gave a mental shrug. If he didn't want to talk, she certainly wasn't going to push herself on him...
Just try to start a conversation.
The girl looked down at the dragon and blinked. 'I don't want to impose,' she objected, mentally shaking her head. But the dragon insisted, sure that she should at least try to talk with him. She wasn't about to argue with him. So she shrugged, and turned her attention back to the boy across from her. "Basyth tells me that your bonded to his clutch-mate?" she offered, feeling that dragons, at least, were a safe subject.
Cantrionth. Thank you, mine, for trying.
ooc:// Sorry it's so short.
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Post by Kain on Aug 22, 2008 15:29:45 GMT -5
L'rel's attention turned back to the girl. She was trying to make conversation now, and that was always good. Maybe he'd make a new friend! He grinned at her and nodded.
"Yes, Canrtionth. He's a blue, too," he added, nodding towards the blue at Cilnah's side. In L'rel's somewhat biased opinion, blueriders were a good sort of folk, so it wouldn't hurt trying to strike up a conversation with his fellow weyrling. "Do you know when classes start up? I'm sort of new here, I don't really know how any of this works..." L'rel laughed- a bit nervously. He didn't want to offend the girl so soon after meeting here and he wasn't the best at talking to people in the most casual setting.
Are you talking about me, L-mine?
Oh! Well, yes, I'm talking to one of your clutchbrother's weyrlings. L'rel grinned at the blue's curiousity, not thinking of how he would look, smiling about something that no one else could hear.
And you've left me all alone in here? Tut-tut, mine.
Cant! You said you were tired! Don't make me feel guilty like that!
I was joking, silly. Try to make some more friends tonight, I want to meet my clutchsiblings!
Alright, I'll try. But just for you, Cant.
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Post by Shikai on Aug 23, 2008 3:07:01 GMT -5
F’rallen rummaged through his trunk for what, he realized excitedly, would be the last time in his old room in the Lower Caverns, shared with the few other male non-candidates his age. Now he was a weyrling, a weyrling! He would be moving to the weyrling barracks, which would be much more crowded than his near empty room, but he was excited. While others might complain about the lack of space and number of people and dragons they had to share with, F’rallen was just thrilled that finally he would finally be included. The hustle and bustle of the weyrling barracks sounded like a welcome change from his depressingly quiet room. Personal space wasn’t a great priority of his, anyway.
“Ah, here it is!” F’rallen exclaimed as he found what he sought, pulling his only set of nice clothes out with a triumphant flourish. Dacrith peered at the somewhat wrinkled brown clothes, extending his bronze muzzle to sniff them. These smell like they’ve been in the trunk too long, mine.[/color] He commented, wrinkling his nose slightly. “Oh.” F’rallen replied, taking a second look at the clothes. True, he hadn’t used them since the Gather, and they were probably a bit musty. He shook them out thoroughly, hoping that would help to air them out, and Dacrith flapped his wings, stirring up the air in an effort to help.
F’rallen beamed at his young dragon, amazed by the creature’s every action. It was a simple gesture on the bronze’s part, but its impact was certainly not lost on the boy. This was his dragonet who would be there for him for life, assisting him in problems both grave and petty. Sensing his rider’s emotions, the bronze snorted. It is nothing, F’rallen. I’m hardly going to let you go to the feast smelling like the inside of a trunk. Not my rider![/color]
While his clothes were still a bit wrinkled, at least they didn’t smell any longer. The boy hastily pulled them on, not wanting to be late for the festivities. He had attended countless hatching feasts, but this would be his first as a weyrling. No more would he be a mere observer, now he was a proud participant. His stomach lurched as he realized he would see Brinne and her Elinth, and instead of essentially bidding her farewell as she entered weyrlinghood, he could introduce her to his wonderful Dacrith! What would she think? He greatly wanted to see her, but was feeling rather anxious at the same time. Why are you worried, mine? She will like me, of course. Who isn’t impressed by a bronze?[/color] Dacrith huffed.
“Hm? Oh, of course she will! I don’t…really know why.” He replied, with an apologetic smile. “Well, let’s go!” Dacrith trotted beside him, somewhat awkward on the ground, but making a laudable attempt at moving with some semblance of dignity anyhow. F’rallen kept his pace slow enough for his dragonet to keep up without trouble, resting a hand on Dacrith’s black and gold streaked neck as he walked. There was nothing in the world like the feel of Dacrith’s hide under his fingers. Dragonhide was something he was used to dealing with, having treated numerous dragons as a healer, yet touching that of his very own dragon was entirely different. He wanted the constant reminder that Dacrith was there, that the beautiful bronze wouldn’t disappear, nothing but a dream. Don’t be silly,[/color] The dragon said, his tone gentle. I’m not going anywhere, F’rallen-mine![/color] F’rallen smiled, both at his dragon’s words, and at hearing his new, shortened rider name from his own dragon’s voice. That confirmed it, didn’t it? He was impressed, he was to be a dragonrider.
At last they entered the dining area of the lower caverns, as their pace had lengthened the time it normally took to make the short trip from F’rallen’s old quarters to the tables. Grabbing a glass of wine (he didn’t really care for the stuff, but this was a special occasion!) and filling a plate with several assorted delicacies, he looked around for Brinne, an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach as he waited anxiously for her to appear. Unsettling, but it was just a side effect of his impression, no doubt.
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