Ill-timed Arrival

[M'kel]

"Sharding Red Star!" M'kel snapped, jerking his head back in from the mayhem of the Bowl. How easy it was to blame everything on that malevolent sphere. He continued to curse colourfully as he backed away from the entrance to the Hatching Ground, shaking dripping, blonde hair out of his eyes. It was lucky indeed that Tirenth and he had been keeping Sitareh and Aviciath company when the storm had lashed itself into being. At least they wouldn't need to risk the journey to view the Hatching. However, there were perhaps more dangerous problems within the Grounds...

"Well?" snapped Sitareh, glaring at him from her cushion bedecked seat near the edge of the Sands, close to her Aviciath but not close enough to be scalded by the heat. Her eyes seemed to accuse M'kel of causing the storm, and he couldn't help but glare back in response.

"I don't know how the candidates will manage to get here. Look at this." He held out his hand, in which was enclosed a rapidly shrinking, though still obviously large, ball of hail. It was the reason he'd cried out when poking out of the entrance to the Grounds, for he'd been struck between the shoulderblades by another upon reaching for this specimen.

Sitareh's eyes seemed to burn holes in his soggy, wherhide-coated form. "They'd better get here. And soon. Impressing a dragon demands sacrifice, and these dragonets will not be forced to wait for frightened youth!"

"Yeah, but I bet they'd rather Impress to live candidates than dead ones," M'kel muttered, turning his back on the Weyrwoman so she wouldn't hear. The chill of the howling wind was somehow managing to bite him still, despite the heat of the Sands, and he edged closer to their enveloping warmth. Steam actually rose off his waterlogged apparel. He rubbed the welt on his back unconsciously, eyes fixed upon the entrance to the Grounds. Lightning flashed suddenly, illuminating the dismal scene. His words suddenly seemed to hold a much more tangible possibility. Would all of the candidates make it?

Tirenth, oblivious to the raging storm outside, was humming determinedly, as if he would make up in volume for the lack of other dragons so far in the Grounds. Life, and this Hatching, would not wait for a storm to end. The arrival of the dragonets had begun.

[Flamewolf]

This was ridiculous.

She'd seen many storms; many horrible ones in fact, even when she was stuck out at sea, one with huge tidal waves, thunder loud enough to deafen you, and lightning bright enough to partially blind you. But this! - hail the size of who knows what that could break your arm - it was ridiculous! And of course, the thrum of humming had to reverbrate through the weyr, the call for the hatching had to be called at that precise moment. Keldara was astounded; and of course, she would not miss the hatching, but...seriously! She glanced uneasily out of the doorway to the short distance to the entrance of the hatching sands, watching the hail pound the earth. She gulped. What would happen if one of them hit her?

Suddenly, she felt someone step beside her; she looked around to see one of the candidates she'd befriended, Kerji, standing beside her, flashing her a rather frightened yet reassuring smile. A look of understandment passed between them; they turned their gaze to the outside, took a deep breath, and plunged into the storm.

Running as fast as they could, the bolted to the hatching sands. The hail, the hard chunks of ice, pelted their backs and arms; their arms were protecting their heads. Suddenly, one large piece nailed the back of the former dolphineer's leg; it buckled underneath her and she fell. Her leg was numb, and the ice was still falling; she felt like just laying there. But, a strong hand grasped her arm and hefted her back to her feet; astonished, she looked up to see Kerji helping her up. She'd thought he'd just leave her, but he'd come back! Flashing him a grateful smile, the candidate leaned on him as they fast-walked/limped to the hatching sands.

When they arrived, the hot sand underneath them were a relief; Keldara blinked and shook the rainwater from her face, and Kerji grinned as he did the same. The candidate looked up to see the Weyrleaders already there (which didn't surprise him). He nodded to both of them politely, while Kel gave Sitareh and Aviciath a stiff nod (barely nodding to M'kel. Lol.) Kerji helped her over to a respectable distance near the eggs.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. Kerji nodded. "You weren't hurt?"

He smiled. "Sore, but...other than that, no." Kel looked relieved, and he just grinned at her before she settled her weight on her other leg. She didn't lean on him, but did stay next to him, just in case.

*~*

Minelli had watched Keldara and Kerji make their way over to the hatching grounds. She was worried; Kel looked like her leg had been hurt badly, but knew that the dolphineer was too stubborn to leave again to get it checked. And, really, she didn't blame her. The former harper peered into the gloom as a boom of thunder shook the air and made her ears ring. She winced but braced herself for wait was about to come.

She bolted outside into the harshness of the storm. Rain pressed hard on her, the wind whipped at her form, and suddenly a flash of lightning momentarily blinded her. She hesitated, afriad of losing her footing, when suddenly a piece of hail slammed in the nook of her arm. Her eyes sprang open and she gasped as a tingling sensation spread up her arm, as well as a numbing pain. Bleary eyed, and she guessed not from just the rain, she half-ran, half-stumbled the rest of the way to the hatching sands, ignoring the bruises on her back.

She practically fell as the terrain suddenly changed from soggy ground to burning hot sands. Shivering, her arm held close to her, she nodded to both Weyrleaders and dragons with extreme politeness before standing beside Keldara.

"You okay?" she whispered. Kel nodded and glanced to her arm. As the other candidate glanced up at her, Minelli smiled. "I'll be fine," she said, "and if you need to, don't be afraid to use me to steady yourself. Just...don't use this arm," she said with a glance to her hurt arm before turning to Keldara with a smile, then turned her gaze to the rocking eggs.

[Journye]

Journye watched the rain fall from the entrance of the nearly finished hospice room and frowned. It seemed that the room would be used sooner then she thought, and most likely by candidates since the call had been given that the hatching was starting. She shook her head and sighed, dutifully gathering up the supplies she might for either injured human or dragon. Her bronze flit trilled from his hiding spot on one of the pillows stacked in the driest corner of the room, trembling with fear "Its alright little one, you can stay here," she told him softly as she arranged the fragile vials in her pack so that they would be against her body instead of near the surface then place her white robe on. She took one more deep breath as she settled the pack into place against her hip before dashing out into the storm to race across the bowl. She used a zig-zag method in hopes of making a harder target for the hail as if it had a mind of its own. She had nearly reached the entrance of the Hatching Cavern with simply bruises when a jagged chunk of hail made it past her protective arms and struck her temple and sliced down her cheek. She was stunned for a long moment and wavered just at the entrance. She shook her head to clear it and dashed the final steps inside, her robe soaked through and the trail of blood from her temple to her jaw dripping blood onto the front turning it bright pink. She hissed and pressed the sleeve of her robe to the wound, it was thin and would stop bleeding on its own, but temple cuts always bled like sharding crazy.

~-~

Salem crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the doorway, watching his sister pace. "You are being stubborn Salem! We need to go or the dragnets will go /between/ if they don't have someone to impress to!" she yelled at him, nearly screaming in her anger. Salem sighed and looked down. She had a point, but he didn't want her to get hurt, she was his precious sister. HE glanced around the room and spotted a small wooden tray that had been left in the room "Fine, but only if you promise to carry that try over your head to protect it," she said slowly, giving in to that look she was giving him. Calysta smiled brightly and grabbed up the tray and hugged it to herself, but Salem still blocked the door "And you better be wearing something under that robe," he muttered before turning to head toward the outside. Calysta just grinned and followed him "You had better not let yourself be knocked out," she told him right before dashing out into the storm, wincing as hail struck her arms and hands as she raced to the Cavern, arriving bruised.

Salem waited until she reached the safety of the Cavern entrance for two reasons, one to make sure she made it and two to calm down from wanting to throttle her because she wore nothing under the robe and it showed clearly now that it was soaked "I should have known," he muttered then dashed out into the miserable weather. He cursed more brightly with each piece of large hail that struck him. He knew his back was going to be a mass of bruises when all was said and done. He nearly dived into the Hatching Cavern, glad for the safety. He shook his robe out the best he could and glared at Caylsta who smiled sweetly from her position among the other female candidates. Salem shook his head and took his place amongst the male candidates, his heart pounding from running and from the fact sinking in that he was nearly too old to impress and a hatchling might not want him.

~-~

Hunter closed and opened his fists at his sides, wide eyed as he stared out at the storm, flinching with every lightening strike and jumping with each boom of thunder. In his mind the incident that had cost him his best friend and first love replayed itself through his mind.

It had been a bad storm and he and Alec had been helping herd the frightened runners to the stables. A big flash of lightening and boom of thunder had caused the runners to stampede. Hunter had just barely managed to jump out of the way, but as he turned around he had witnessed Alec going under the panicked hooves of the herd. Since that day Hunter had hated and feared storms.

He shook his head to chase the memory away, remembering the question that the Weyrleader had asked him they day all the candidates had been questioned. He also remembered his answer, but he didn't have a dragon at his side to be with him. His two flits crooned comfortingly from his shoulders. Green Ivy nuzzling his cheek as Blue Cobalt curled his tail around his neck. Hunter smiled faintly and reached up to pet the two, they had helped him feel better, but he was in no way going to risk taking them out into this weather. He was finally able to convince them to stay behind as he pulled his robe over his head. He had to face the storm, there might be a dragon there waiting for him.

Hunter forced his shaking legs to make the steps and began the long run across the bowl with lightening brighten the sky every few moments. He was pummeled by hail as he ran, but bruises were nothing compared to the hopeful thoughts of impressing. He was just about to the entrance of the Cavern when a large chunk struck him on the shoulder and he went sprawling in the dirt right under the entrance over hand. He tried to push himself up and his left arm collapsed under his weight. He bit back a cry of pain and got to his feet, shaking his head at the healer girl when she made a move to aid him. He would get it looked at after the hatching.

[D'gellin]

Degellin hesitated at the sight of the storm, eyes wide in alarm. It didn't seem as bad from the inside. Sure, he heard the whip of wind, the rumble of thunder, and the clatter of huge chunks of hail against the weyr. But somehow the picture he had painted in his mind had been a lot less violent with a drastically smaller space between himself and the Hatching Grounds. Suddenly the open area looked much more lethal than he'd originally given it credit for, especially after watching other candidates getting pummeled by the storm.

His green fire lizard chittered impatiently in Degellin's ear as he lingered uncertainly, hands flexing absentmindedly at his side. Well, everyone so far had made it across. It's not like anyone died or anything. He reasoned with himself. With that, he'd almost hurtled headlong into the storm when another thought passed his mind. Yet. Degellin sighed and ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair. Not for nothing, but he was tiny (even disregarding his age) and being as petite and light as he was he just couldn't shake the notion that he might be literally blown away in the wind.

But he was already decked out in his itchy, way-to-big candidates attire. There was only a mild stretch of lethal ground between himself and the Sands. And if he didn't go...Degellin blinked in astonishment with himself for missing the most important part. If he didn't go he couldn't impress. "Mother, you stay here." He forewarned his lizard. Taking a deep breath, and giving very little other thought to the matter (for fear that it would deter him from going while he had the guts), he shot out into the storm. But apparently his size really was an issue; at the first gust he was stumbling sideways, flailing his arms for balance. And with his body exposed, the hail hit him very little remorse. Panicking now, he moved on instinct. He used the momentum from the wind to tumble back up on to his feet, and covered his unprotected head with his now bruised up arms. The final stretch was brutal; getting hit pretty bad early on in the game made everything else sting that much more. But, against all odds, he made it, albeit bruised and cut up from the jagged chunks of ice. He was just relieved he hadn't been hit on his head; that was a fortunate miracle in itself.

The contrast between the cool of the storm and the hot of the sands was disorientating. And it didn't help that his head was still spinning from the little high he'd gotten out of running through the storm. But he managed to keep himself together by focusing on the eggs as he trudged over to the line of candidates, only just remembering to give a quick, awkward bow to the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader as he passed.

[Shikai]

At long last, the day of the hatching had finally come.

Yet the overwhelming excitement that normally overcame those fortunate enough to call themselves candidates was coupled with a strange emotion given the happiness of the occasion: fear. Silently, Shikai stood, clad in the sandals and white robe of candidacy, having hastily thrown them on as soon as she had heard that the eggs were hatching. She had been waiting for this moment ever sense her arrival at the weyr, but she had never anticipated the circumstances it would come in.

The rumbling of thunder, occasional flash of lightning, and roar of pounding hail screamed danger, and how incredibly foolish it would be for anyone to venture out of the safety of the weyr. Yet with all of Shikai’s instincts shouting at her to stay put, she knew without a doubt that she had to cross the stretch of danger before her. This could well be her only chance at impressing a dragon, which had so long her dream. If she did not risk it and stand, Shikai knew that she would regret it for the rest of her life. The once-healer tightened her hands into twin fists of determination, one quickly brushing the bulge on her thigh to verify the presence of her healer pouch. One never knew when such supplies would be needed, and she had a feeling that if she was fortunate enough not to require them, someone else could certainly make use of them.

Sirius chirped softly in awe and worry, for even the daredevil blue couldn’t help but fear for His out in such conditions. Shikai gave him a sad smile, and bade him to remain on her cot. “The dragons won’t have you on the sands during the hatching, I’m afraid. You’d best stay here. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be alright!” She reassured him, and despite his desire to accompany her, Sirius grudgingly settled down on her bed.

Raising her arms over her head to cover her head and neck as best she could, Shikai took a single deep breath, forcing the rising fear to quiet, and left the safety of the doorway.

This was certainly the fastest she had ever run before, for she practically flew across the ground toward her goal: the hatching ground. Pern itself seemed to roar at her defiance, but she couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to. Her gaze trained on her goal, she clenched her teeth to drive out the pain as she was pelted by hail, especially on her arms. A chunk even larger than the normal gargantuan size slapped against her ulna, sending pain shooting through her arm. Yet Shikai didn’t even make a mental note to check the injury later, for she was trained on reaching her goal.

It took all Shikai’s willpower not to collapse as she finally reached the sanctuary of the hatching grounds. Gasping for air after the exertion, she slowly relaxed her arm muscles and brought them down from their rigid position guarding her head. Pain immediately shot through her outer forearm, and she examined it with a healers experienced gaze as she took a few slow steps toward the hatching grounds. Both her arms were very bruised, and while her left ulna did not look severely broken, she was near certain from the pain she was experiencing and the fast redness and swelling of the area that it had been cracked.

Shikai slapped numbweed salve hastily over the area to reduce the pain before taking her place with the other candidates. Sighing with relief as the pain was diminished to a dull throbbing, her mind turned from the now taken care of, for the time being, injury to the hatching dragons before her. Sheer awe and excitement consumed her as she took in the sight and realized that she was witnessing the first dragon hatching Pern had seen in over a hundred turns. What fate awaited her today? Oddly, it occurred to her that she had made the sacrifice Pern demanded of her to be there, in facing the storm and possibly breaking her ulna in the process. As much as anyone else, she had a right to be present. Maybe the dragons wouldn’t choose her, but all the same, it was the chance of a lifetime even to witness the historic time. Ignoring what pain was left in her arm, Shikai prepared herself for the hatching of a new generation of dragons.

-----

Calliope shrieked at her brown-haired human as she wheeled in circles about his head, clearly expressing her desire that he not venture out into the storm, even if doing so was for the sake of the dragons. Tarren tried in vain to calm the reproachful green, attempting to coax her to his arm. Calliope, however, would hear none of it.

“Relax Callie! I won’t get hurt, honest! I’ll be careful! I’m a candidate, I’ve /got/ to go! And that’s that!”

Yet Calliope mearly hissed at him, positioning herself neatly between him and the exit. Exasperated, the boy ran his fingers through his wavy hair, wishing for a solution to present itself.

Fortunately for him, it did: in the form of his elder sister Alana.

Alana, with no fire lizard to shriek warnings at her, was moving uncontested toward the exit of the Lower Caverns, where both candidates had been engaged in chores.

“’Lana! Please, help me? We’ve got to get to the hatching, but Calliope won’t budge!”

A faint smile played about Alana’s lips as she took sight of the green, perched determinately in front of the door, her eyes whirling fiery colors. Despite the seriousness of the situation and the impending danger outside, it was almost comical.

Yet she could sympathize with the green’s cause, for it was one she cared about herself: Tarren’s safety. She herself was uncomfortable with the idea of her younger brother out in that – that unbelievable tempest. So much so that for many other things, she would have told him to remain indoors herself. But for this, she could not. This was Tarren’s dream, as well as her own, and knowing that she was willing to risk injury to stand at the hatching, she was sure that Tarren was as well. And besides, she didn’t want to imagine what would happen to the baby dragons if they emerged from their shells at last, hungry and confused, to find no candidates there for them! She shuddered at the thought. It would be beyond cruel. No, the candidates were certainly needed, and besides, was this not exactly what they had been trained for? To face anything, from Threadfall, to storms like this one, for the sake of dragonkind? If a candidate could not muster the courage to find their way to the hatching sands, then they had failed a truer test than the one Sitareh had given them.

Fixing a fierce, yet understanding look upon her brother’s fire lizard, which was responded to with one of fierce defiance from the green, Alana spoke.

“Don’t you worry, now. I care about Tarren too, and I will make certain that he comes to no harm in this.”

Something in her voice must have registered to the fire lizard, for this coupled with the constant orders from her bonded to stand down finally brought about the desired result. With a sad, compliant chirp, Calliope rose and winked between, heading for the safety of Tarren’s cot.

“Shall we be off then?” Alana asked her brother, with a soft smile.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” He replied, a considerably broader grin on his face.

“Stay close to me, Tar!”

Together, they left the Lower Caverns, and sprinted toward the hatching grounds. Lightning flashed ominously above them, illuminating a large chunk of hail dropping toward Tarren’s head. Catching sight of the danger at the last minute, Alana knocked it away with her right arm, earning a cut in reward. This was the only serious threat to her health or Tarren’s, for bruised and battered, but not seriously wounded, her brother dove into the entrance to the hatching grounds.

Not wanting to spoil Tarren’s day by showing him that she was injured, Alana turned that side of her away from him as they exchanged a meaningful look before moving their separate ways.

“Good luck, Tarren.” Alana began, with emotion verifying the sincerity of her wish.

“You too, ‘Lana.” He replied, almost impudently, but nonetheless genuinely, and he scampered off to take his place with the boys.

Alana frowned at the bleeding scrape on her arm as she walked toward her own place. It wasn’t too serious, but certainly painful enough. Pushing the unwelcome sensation aside, Alana forced her attention toward the rocking eggs. Her pain was quickly forgotten as her eyes widened in wonder, just as Tarren’s were doing in a different area of the Sands. How incredible! Yet whether or not she was chosen by one of the amazing beings known as a dragon, Alana reassured herself with great determination that she would never return to her father’s farm. For how could she possibly go back to her old life after experiencing such wonders! No, whether or not they knew it, the rocking creatures in the eggs had changed her life forever, for much the better. More than ever before, Alana was overwhelmed with the sensation that right at that moment, her life was filled with endless possibilities, and every one of them excited her more than words could describe.

-----

A scowl vying with the storm for darkness covered Hirun’s face as he glared at the deplorable weather keeping him from his goal. This wasn’t supposed to happen! The dragonriders came forward through time who knew how many turns, and when the hatching time finally came, the blasted storm blocked all the candidates off from the hatching grounds, and many of the dragonriders too! It was beyond believing, and Hirun had heard of nothing like it in all his days of hearing Harper tales from across Pern. Unbelievable.

Why even bother risking his life out there? Hirun doubted he had much of a chance of impressing anyway. And even if he did muster up the strength to step out of the shelter of the boy’s candidate barracks, there was a chance he could be struck down by hail or lightning before ever sighting a dragon hatchling.

Hirun sighed. He was no stranger to storms, having been out in them since before he could even remember, but he didn’t like them in the slightest. Not long ago, in his mind, his mother had perished due to one, turning his life upside down for good. He remembered it clearly: her body, arching through the air, almost as though she were flying, only to land with a sickening crunch as her head was slammed down hard onto a cluster of rocks. It struck him as a strange coincidence that it should be a storm he would have to fight his way through in hopes of impressing a dragon hatchling three turns later. Faranth! Back then dragons weren’t even present on Pern. How his life had changed.

As he stood, pondering, Hirun was struck with a slowly growing resolve. For too long he had been merely drifting through life, having no thought as to his direction or his future. The time had come to stop drifting. Why not try to cross to the hatching grounds? Really, he had nothing to loose. It was time to start afresh, and this was a perfect opportunity. He could either stay in the barracks in his present condition, or venture forth, and reclaim his life.

Hirun chose the latter.

Running wildly out into the storm, he ignored the hail pelting his body from what seemed like all directions. He had to keep going, couldn’t turn back, couldn’t stop. He was making good time, and was halfway to the hatching grounds, when his foot landed on a freshly fallen chunk of hail and he tripped, the force from his speed sending him flying across the earth, until he was thrown into the ground.

I should be dead. Hirun thought to himself, recalling the similar way in which his mother had passed. But, he realized, he wasn’t. Aside from having the wind knocked out of him and being very much bruised, he was alright. Rotating his arms so that his palms were flat against the earth, he pushed himself up again, and continued on his way to the hatching grounds, running until he was enveloped by the cavern and safe once more.

Taking his place with the candidates, Hirun was, more than ever, ready to move on, and ready and hopeful to impress. He could almost thank that blasted storm for beating some sense into him.

-----

Unlike many of the others, Anya had no doubts whatsoever about venturing into the storm. Having been, along with a few other girls, in the candidate barracks as soon as the announcement reached them, she had flung on her candidate robe, persuaded her blue fire lizard not to accompany her, and was ready to make her way to the hatching grounds. She had her heart set on becoming a dragonrider, and had not come this far to be stopped by a mere storm! As though objecting to her belittlement of it, thunder suddenly filled the sky with its roaring. Yet Anya was not to be deterred. Through Fog, Fire, and Fall, she would make it to the hatching grounds and witness the hatching, if not even impress a dragon herself.

Throwing herself out into the tempest with neither plan nor hesitation, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward the hatching grounds. She winced slightly as hail struck her head, shoulders, arms…and, well, pretty much everywhere, but did not lessen her speed.

Although several of her welts and bruises were still aching, stinging, and smarting, Anya, amazingly, suffered from neither broken bones nor cuts on any part of her body. Having set out very quickly and with little thought, Anya found that, while many candidates were present, most of them had yet to arrive. Where were they, she thought irritably. This was it! The hatching! Very much the moment they had all been waiting for! Now, of all times, was not the time to be late. But it occurred to her that she was in fact a bit early, as none of the eggshells had been so much as considerably cracked. There was time yet, it seemed, for which Anya was both glad and unhappy. It gave the others more time, but it meant that she would have to squirm with excitement and anticipation for that much longer!

-----

Myra stared as Anya’s form vanished into the storm, for the girl seemed to have taken off without so much as a thought to the terrible conditions awaiting her outside. Echoing her emotions, Pan let out a long whistle before grabbing hold of a lock of her fairly short hair and tugging her toward the door herself. Lyra followed suit, and Myra was forced forward a step before she could detangle the little claws from her black locks.

“Pan – Lyra – I’m going!”

She told them, glad that no one was around to see the spectacle, and the brown and green retook their perches on her shoulders, chittering at her to be off. “Haven’t you seen the weather out there? It’s awful.” Myra replied, looking out. “But you’re right…I do need to go. For the dragon’s sake…and…mine.” Herself was added as almost an afterthought, but as Myra thought about the situation, she realized once more just how much she wanted, and needed, a companion who would love her unconditionally, for herself. She had found a good friend in Kitari, and so she felt that she would get by if she didn’t impress…but really, she had to be there. This was, as with so many others, her dream. And she wouldn’t miss her chance at it for the world.

Lyra and Pan sent her off with pleasant good luck and goodbye chirps, and Myra smiled at her two fire lizards before her face hardened with determination, and she raced toward the hatching grounds.

She was struck almost simultaneously by three large chunks of hail, which battered her shoulders and arms. Another grazed her arm, just below her shoulder, drawing her blood to the surface. However, aside from these relatively minor injuries, Myra was unscathed as she took her place amongst the candidates, for which she thanked Faranth.

Her breath caught in her throat as she received her first glimpse of the eggs, a living, moving field of boulders each containing one of Pern’s precious dragons. It was overwhelming, and even Myra’s face broke into an ecstatic grin. This, she was certain, would be the most memorable day of her life!

[Felina]

((Hehe. “Rip, tear, kill!” Maybe not the kill bit, but then, I'm not a basilisk, though I enjoy ripping and tearing as much as the next Dark Lord. Like Sauron, or Voldemort, or Shai'tan. Though ripping and tearing at their hearts and emotions is so much more fun than mutilating their bodies. Poor bodies never harmed anyone. Me? Bitter? No, don't know what you're talking about!))

“Horrid... day, no?” Altair asked breathlessly, nearly collapsing into the spindly chair that was the only furnishing in the bare room other than a desk and a decently sized cot. It was bigger than his, at the very least, though he had his suspicions that Candidates weren't regarded particularly highly in the Weyr. At least, not until they Impressed, if they did indeed do so. Even one of the younger women in the Lower Caverns was accorded better accommodations.

Corenne was sitting on the cot, her legs folded underneath her, the hat she was knitting lying on her lap in all of its mauve-and-orange glory. She nodded, slightly, fingering the tip of one of the needles. “I heard some of the women complaining about the rain, though I really don't see the bother. It never bothered us before.”

“No, it didn't,” he said wistfully. The absence of such storms as there frequently were along the coast had been unsettling, at best. It was unusual to walk outside and see the sun shining, every day, to feel its blazing heat beating down on his face. “But,” he added, “this is worse than just a bit of rain. There's hail out there the size of your fist, and it's coming down fast.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “That would explain the crashing; I can hear it even down here. And I suppose that's the wind I'm hearing, too. Wonder if there's any sand here for it to toss up and scald you with, aside from that in the Hatching Grounds, of course. Funny, it sounds almost like music.” And she began humming an eerie sort of melody that was indeed remarkably similar to a song the wind might sing, with frequent changes in key and of an ever-changing tempo. First it was joyful, then excited, then nearly mournful. When she stopped, she said, “It sounds sort of like that. Only like it's asking me to sing, because it can't think of a melody but only harmony.”

“It's pretty... Hey, look, Shilai likes it as well!” For the tiny green who had been sleeping silently on the desk was now standing on her hind legs, adding her own part to the song, continuing long after Corenne had finished, reveling in the joys of something utterly incomprehensible to the two humans with her in the small room. And for a moment, Altair looked at her quizzically, and then tilted his head in order to listen to the song Corenne had heard. He heard nothing; but hearing was not at that moment necessary, as comprehension suddenly slapped him full in the face, allowing its harsh fingers to linger for a moment on his cheek. “Corenne,” he asked, excitement beginning to flush his face for he already was certain of the answer, “that's not really the wind you hear, is it?”

She shook her head, brilliant eyes clouded over by fear. “No, it's... it's not.” She had had her own suspicions about the source of the wonderful music, but she preferred instead to believe that it was not the herald of an event that would truncate her time with Altair. For no matter how many doubts that she may have held in her heart, one doubt that never did surface was that Altair would Impress; a bronze, at that. And for all of his brave words, for all that he claimed, she also did not doubt that he would eventually forget her. She wanted to leap from the cot and put her arms around him, begging him not to leave her alone like this, not to ever forget her even when he had so much that she could never even dream of, not to go to a fate which she could not deny. Instead, she only could listen as he ran out of the room, shouting something about needing to change his shirt, though she couldn't quite comprehend why a dragonet would care about that of all things.

Altair tramped along the long stone corridor, his rigid-soled sandals flapping against the soles of his feet, whacking first his heel and then the ground and then repeating the process endlessly with every step that he took. There was nobody around for him to speak to, and he had only his own head in which to air his own doubts. What if he didn't Impress? Would he be sent unceremoniously from the Weyr, pronounced unfit regardless of everything that he had gone through to get and then stay there? Would that M'kel even allow him to enter the Hatching Grounds? Perhaps he was simply waiting to ambush him so as not to make a public display of dismissing him.

What would his dragon be like? Altair couldn't imagine anything other than a green, maybe a blue. But, then, the relative non-monogamy of those dragons would allow him to live his life as he would, and not be utterly chained to his dragons' decisions. She, yes she, for he predicted that she would be a green, of middling size but with an exceptionally long wingspan. A dark hide, so as not to stand out so much on an overcast day but shimmery enough to be beautiful with the light of Rukbat behind her. She'd be unusually patient, and able to put up with her Rider's occasional less-than-pleasant moods, empathic but not so much as to cloud each-other's thoughts when one or the other was experiencing an especially turbulent emotion.

These thoughts occupied him until he reached the overhang that led out into the wide, open expanse between the Hatching Grounds and the rest of the cavernous Weyr. The hail was still pelting down with all the ferocity of a wild feline, gouging deep marks into the earth that was already wet from previous rain. He whistled softly. “What a day to be born, huh?” Any dragonet mad enough to choose a day such as that to break shell had to have something wrong with it. But, as he was slowly coming to realise, he wouldn't care, for that which he cared most for would be that which was tied irrevocably to his heart. And he would take that however it may be.

And so, using his arms as a shield for more delicate parts of himself, such as the back of his head, Altair ducked out into the full fury of the storm, ready to face anything for this one chance at something different. A few minutes, and more than a few bruises later, he was able to dodge into the entrance of the Hatching Grounds, his sodden hair dripping and the white tunic stained dark with splatters of mud. But, however unpresentable he may have appeared, he was, at the very least, present. And with a deep bow to the rather smug-looking Golden queen (though who could possibly blame her?), he took his place among the ranks of the candidates, for he was to be, if a dragon deemed him worth her notice, a Rider!


◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊◊≤◊◊∞◊◊≥◊


Felina huddled, shivering, in a small corner of her room that she had (somewhat illicitly) transformed into a small workbench, a wide piece of thick leather and a pair of rivets set on what had been the desk, in a former life, though its upper shelf she had removed and attached to the wall to hold her tools. She was sick of this rain, sick of being drenched through to the core, sick of her dark hair hanging in her face, stringy and unmanageable, and undeniably wet. Hence the current project. Her tongue held firmly between her teeth, she drove a hole into the leather, one of many spaced fairly widely apart. She had big plans for this particular piece of leather, and the other larger piece that was already sewn into a rectangle that lay on her cot. She'd taken to sleeping on the floor the past few days, wary that if she moved any of her project, pieces of it would get lost.

But this was the final piece, and as she deftly strung the dried guts through the holes on one end, closing the piece of leather on two sides (though one of those sides was in fact unbroken leather), she whistled happily to herself. This was one of the things that she was good at. She didn't know how long she had worked, nor did she notice the passage of time, only the progress on her project and the thought that she would be revenged on this horrid rain. She was not aware that the white tunic that she was wearing under her apron was sticking to her back with sweat, or that a musical sort of humming was now pervading the tiny room she was in. She concentrated only on the last few stitches, for with those she would be free.

She had obtained a large piece of waterproofed leather that had originally been intended for boots. But, as she was constantly pounded by torrential downpours recently and stone walls were far from dry all of the time, she had grown highly displeased with the sodden state of things. And so, in rather typical Felina style, she was making a rectangular sort of garment (complete with hood) to keep the wetness out. Granted, she had only enough to cover the top half of her body, with it coming to points in the front and back and leaving her arms and sides largely unprotected, in addition to keeping her head dry which would in itself be a miracle.

And as she tied off the final knot in the gut thread, she finally noticed the humming, and nearly jumped out of her skin. What fortuitous timing! Not before she had finished the dry-keeper, and at a time which would be exceptionally good for testing its effectiveness. The fact that her luck rarely ran so well went ignored in her excitement, as she hastily dropped the apron on the floor and pulled the dry-keeper over her head, the long sleeves of the robe billowing out beneath it. Well, that bit couldn't really be helped, and at least she'd be somewhat dry, this time she went outside.

However, her hopes quickly fell as she noticed what else was falling from the sky, in addition to the torrential rain. “You have got to be sharding kidding!” she moaned, fingering the beautiful hood of her dry-keeper. It was waterproof, but it wasn't heavy-falling-objects-proof, and she wouldn't be able to prevent some sort of damage. Still, there were ways to mend it, if such damages did occur. And as she splashed through the puddles, her feet mercifully dry because she had ignored the plea to wear those flimsy little sandals, she concentrated primarily on the hot Hatching Grounds. Who in their right minds would want their feet to be roasted by hot sand, anyhow?

She shed the dry-keeper at the entrance to the Grounds, slim finger running sorrowfully over the deep pockmarks in the hood. Still, what if that had been her head, instead? It likely would have been pleasant. Shrugging, she only just remembered to bow to Aviciath, her thoughts turned now to the commencing Hatching and the eradication of the use of agenothree.

[Kitari]

"Hurry up!" a dragonrider cried, shoving Barec towards the entrance to the Bowl. The man's dragon had received Tirenth's message, and he had been rounding up the candidates he could find working in the bowels of the Weyr, sending them off to the Hatching Grounds. Barec stared at the man as he dashed off to find more candidates, then turned his gaze upon the frenzy that was the Bowl.

Lighning struck a tree outside the dead volcano just then, causing Barec to leap backwards in fright. His fire lizard squawked and leapt off his shoulder, going between in indignation. The whole scene was illuminated: slushy hail piling up on the ground, more giant chunks plummeting from the sky, and fellow candidates making the daring dash and falling, struck by hail stones the size of a child's fist. There was no way Barec was going out in that. If there was one thing he had learned while living isolated in the Southern Continent, it was never to venture out during the freak storms that could tear across the land without warning. He had once seen a strange funnel shape descend from the sky before being ushered into the safety of his cave. That night had been too similar to this.

The lad backed away even further as a girl collapsed, hail nearly burying her form. Another helped her up, though, and they made it, but it was impossible to tell how badly they had been injured. Barec had decided. He would just hide and wait out the storm, then claim that he hadn't been told while working in the lowest caverns changing glows. There was no way that dragonrider would recognize him, was there?

He had just begun to turn to head into the depths of the Weyr when a thought stopped him. Since being snatched by that terrible greenrider, Barec had been utterly alone in this place, moreso even than when living in solitude after his parents' deaths. There was no way he could escape the Weyr, so this empty life would continue for, potentially, the rest of his existence. Unless a dragon actually found him worthy...

It was too much like the stories his mother had told him, those fantasy adventures that Barec was unworthy to live. Still, his mother's influence warred with his father's, and the lad wondered if he ought to give himself a chance in this.

Suddenly, his legs were moving, and Barec hurtled out of the archway. Horrified by this sudden burst of action, the lad quickly covered his head and ploughed on. Another burst of lightning illuminated the Bowl, this one striking inside the Bowl itself. A strange tingly feeling ran up Barec's form from the ground, and he felt his hair stick out all over his head. He stumbled from shock but did not fall, no more injured by the diffused electricity than to experience a strange burning sensation in his fingers. The ground was slick with slush, and he slid a number of times, gritting his teeth as stone after stone pounded his back and arms. Finally, the madness ended, and Barec found himself leaning against a wall in the Hatching Ground, panting from the effort. He felt gingerly at the hair still on end around his head, trying to pat it into some semblance of neatness.

In doing so, Barec's eyes locked upon the glowing, rocking eggs. Candidates had already aligned themselves in a semi-circle, and the lad moved woodenly to join the other boys. This was it. He was about to witness an event he had only dreamed about, and there was a chance he might even Impress one of the wonders within those eggs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately enough, Kitari had been bathing when the call came for candidates to get to the Hatching Ground. She was halfway through rubbing soapstone into her hair when a girl's head poked into the bathing chamber, warning her to get out of there immediately. Kitari's blue fire lizard had been swimming lazily nearby, but the sudden tension in the air at this surprising announcement caused him to clamber out, fluttering his wings to dry them. He began shrieking insistently as Kitari raced to rinse the soapstone from her hair, waddling over to grab a strand of the black stuff and yard on her head.

"I can't go in there with my hair full of suds! What would the Weyrwoman think?" she snapped, brushing him away and hurriedly climbing out, the task completed. She dried as quickly as possible and donned the candidate's robes, shivering under their thin concealment. Her hair clung to her face in wet curls, but she had not time to dry it properly. Hopefully it wouldn't be too cold outside.

Thus, Kitari stood open-mouthed in an entrance to the Grounds. She had heard mutterings about a terrible storm, but she'd had no idea just how terrible it was. Everywhere she looked, slush had piled up, creating a dangerous and slippery trek for any venturing out. In fact, others were being hurt. A few had gone down in the hail even as she watched, and the girl emitted a loud noise of derision. The fools were stampeding out there with no protection! Those hail stones were as hard as normal stones, and a blow to the head could be fatal.

Kitari marched quickly and determinedly to the Lower Caverns with that thought in mind. "Take this!" she snapped, halting a younger boy just as he made to dart out into the maelstrom. She shoved a wooden bowl into his hands and gestured angrily for him to place it over his head. It slowly donned on the boy, and he did as she suggested, charging out through the slush. She watched as he fell a couple of times, but at least he was more likely to survive with head protection.

Still grumbling nastily under her breath at the foolishness of others, Kitari procured her own bowl, ignoring the querulous looks of the workers, and held it over her head. She took a deep breath, then plunged forth. The going was more slow this late in the storm, and her feet were soon chilled by the melting ice, numbing them to potential hazards. She stepped painfully upon a number of jutting chunks of ice, and despite the bowl, her body was as exposed as any other's. She doubled over at a particularly nasty blow to her gut, but she couldn't stop. Racing as fast as she dared, Kitari finally flung herself through the entrance to the Hatching Ground.

Breathing hard, the girl winced at the painful bruises blooming and cuts bleeding on her legs and back, but she quickly moved to the Sands for their blessed warmth. Her pain and the plight of others still out in the storm was still forgotten. Kitari's eyes had riveted upon the quivering ovals, and she waited breathlessly for the first to crack.

[M'kel]

It was as bad as M'kel had predicted. He watched from near the entrance as white forms appeared at the archways leading onto the Bowl. The candidates were racing across the Bowl, fully exposed, and he winced numerous times as he saw particulary hard hits. The first few had stumbled in, dazed, and drifted to the sands, but the dragonrider was glued to the entrance, fretting terribly, and rather uncharacteristically, over those still making the journey. He didn't even notice as a blue dragon swooped in over his head to join the others ringing the Stands, that is until the air swept by the blue's wings nearly caused him to fall over.

As M'kel gripped the stone wall, steadying himself, his worst fear was confirmed. A candidate went down under the pounding hail. He stepped forward instinctively, but another was at her side, helping her onward. He felt a jolt as Keldara limped in at a boy's side, refusing to even glance his way. The young bronzerider felt as if he had been hit by a chunk of hail himself. Then he realized he had, for the wind had shifted slightly and hail was blowing in the entrance. M'kel jumped backwards, rubbing his knee and cursing once again.

Another candidate collapsed, this one unaided by anyone, and fast disappeared under the growing pile of slush. She was only feet from the entrance. Immediately, the Weyrleader reacted, darting out and hauling her up, carrying her into the warmth and safety of the Hatching Ground. He suffered another few welts across his back for it, but he ignored the pain. M'kel gently laid the girl down, noting the large gash on her head and her rolled up eyes. He felt quickly for a pulse, relieved to find it. However, this girl would not be Standing today.

A storm as great as that outside was building inside of him. He knew that the dragons needed candidates to be present, but it was horrible that these youths were being injured because of it! This seemed to top off all of the dreadful things that had been occurring, even that Analysis. Quickly, the bronzerider called over a drudge who had been just arrived carrying a giant bowl of meat, telling her to tend to the girl.



A loud CRACK split the air. Lightning illuminated the Hatching Ground, but M'kel's eyes swiveled to the sands. In the flash of the lightning, a brown dragonet had appeared amongst the fallen pieces of his shell. The strange shadows that fell across his form gave him an almost menacing look, but these faded quickly as the lightning dispersed, leaving a rather frightened looking chestnut and klah brown. His eyes were whirling frantically red, and he suddenly rushed forward, slamming into another egg in his disoriented state.

The smaller egg, which had already been riveted by tiny cracks, burst at the force of the impact, sprawling a green dragonet upon her back amongst the shards. She struggled, writhing upon the sand and shards in her panic, her forest green hide flashing in the dim glowlight cast upon the scene. Her creeling pierced the air. The brown stumbled backwards in surprise from the blow, his elongated form quivering still from the collision.

The green dragonet succeeded in righting herself, but instead of proceeding to the waiting candidates, she crouched where she stood, quaking with fright and confusion. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed once more. Both of the dragonets seemed riveted upon the spot, lost.

To M'kel's horror, he realized that not only was the storm disorientating the dragonets, but also was the inaudible welcoming hum of the dragons throwing them off. With so few dragons in the Hatching Ground as it was and the storm raging loudly outside, the dragonets were Hatching nearly completely unable to hear that traditional comfort. In response, Tirenth increased his volume even more, encouraging his fellows to futilely join in.

With a howl of wind, the brown seemed suddenly awakened. He plunged off through the sand, eyes darting wildly around the Grounds. The male candidates appeared suddenly before him, and he stared at them in bewilderment, his eyes shifting quickly up and down their line. Finally, something in this chaotic world made sense as his eyes locked upon those of Theodoros. He stumbled forward in relief. Your Toruth needs you! He is starving and was lost, but now he is found, because he has found you! The whirling of his eyes had slowed somewhat, although they were still primarily coloured by red.

Across the Hatching Ground, a blue leg forced its way out of a hole in an egg, and then retreated. Claws appeared at the opening, scrabbling to widen it until the dragonet was able to pull himself through. Once free, though, he merely crouched where he was, staring around uncertainly. His eyes whirled at the cries of the frightened green, and he shivered as cold wind raked his form. Finally, the turquoise-tinted blue began to move forwards, nearly crawling in his effort to stay close to the reassuring warmth of the sand. It merely emphasized his smaller stature, but the blue's only thought was for finding someone to lead him out of his madness.

Upon reaching the line of male candidates, the blue dragonet stared at them dazedly. He seemed to have difficulty focussing on the faces as he scanned them, and he edged closer for a better look. Suddenly, he darted forward to bump his head against Draien. There you are! Your Meliavith has found you! He worried you would not be here for him... Delighted relief coloured his thoughts as he gazed hopefully up at his new rider.

The green dragonet had watched the proceedings from her position amongst the shards of her shell, and the successes of her two fellows seemed to give her the ability to stand. Cautiously, she began edging towards the line of girls, warily eyeing the quaking eggs around her. She stopped at the edge of the rough circle of eggs, unwilling to proceed further until she was sure. Then, confidence imbued her, and the green raced forward to bury her face in Minelli's stomach. Minelli! Your Elainuth is afraid of the loud flashes. But you will protect her...and feed her? she added hopefully, gazing up at her new rider.

[draien]

Hail was pouring down in sheets, clattering to the ground rock hard, taking their time to melt into the earth. Draien couldn't help but pause at the doorway, watching other candidates stumble and fall wasn't very reassuring. After a moment of contemplation he threw his arms over his head and broke into a run, wincing occasionally as chunks of ice tore into his arms and exposed pieces of his face. Of all the days... He grumbled inwardly, keeping his eyes locked on his destination, knowing perfectly well that there was nothing he could do about it. A particularly large piece of hail split down his arm, and his pace faltered slightly. Biting down on his lip, Draien forced himself to ignore the blood trickling down his arm and kept running, making himself believe that the pain was worth it. Now, should he not impress a dragonet, then he figured he had fair grounds to be angry, but until he knew for sure, all he could do was run.

Eventually he slowed down as he reached the edge of the grounds, breath coming out in ragged gasps as he bent over, attempting to return his breathing to normal. When he looked up again Draien glanced over the faces of all the other candidates, realizing suddenly that they all wanted the same thing he did. To be a rider. However, not all of them would make it, even he knew that. His thoughts were broken as a loud crack echoed all around them, lightning flashing throughout the sky. As he glanced over, he couldn’t help but stop the gasp that forced its way out of him, eyes locked on the brown dragonet in the place of one of the eggs. His frantic red eyes skimmed over the area, abruptly dashing forward to collide with another smaller egg. That egg burst open as well, a green dragonet sprawled out on the sand, frightening the brown. A small chuckle emitted from Draien’s mouth as he watched the two intently, eyes not once straying from them.

Another smaller crack sounded from the opposite side of the hatching grounds, and, finding himself captivated, Draien’s line of vision shifted to watch that egg. A blue leg popped itself out of the shell, retreating soon after, claws scrabbling desperately at the hole he had made. Eventually the turquoise dragonet freed himself, staying huddled close to the sand as he crawled forward, body shivering occasionally with the wind. As he grew closer to the edge of the hatching ground, his eyes scanned the male candidates, orbs darting back and forth as he stared and occasionally inching forward. Draien’s eyes remained latched on the dragonet, widening slightly as he suddenly bounded forward. Before he knew it, a turquoise head had hit his, and, smile growing on his face, he lifted one hand to touch him There you are! Your Meliavith has found you! He worried you would not be here for him... Meliavith. The name echoed through Draien’s mind repeatedly, his hand hesitantly stroking down Meliavith’s neck. His Meliavith.

[D'gellin]

Trilia squished herself farther into the corner, smashing her hands over her ears as another roll of thunder cracked in the sky. But though her appearance might lead one to suggest she was afraid of the storm, her reasons for shrinking away laid elsewhere. It wasn't so much that the storm was scary as much as it was annoying. It was unstoppable and incessant. But worse were the very faint but still distinguishable sounds of dragon song. The little girl had already yelled at her fire lizard to stop humming, but it was harder to convince a dragon to stop, let alone all the dragons on a Hatching day. Even the anxious buzz of the people in the weyr was a nagging reminder. Every sound seemed to offend her, for every sound related to the Hatching in some way or another; a Hatching she would not be attending. And as immature as it was, Trilia stubbornly refused to acknowledge the event. With good reason she was still sore about her dismissal, and in her agitation she fell to nonsensical impulses. With this in mind she glared up at her father with a vengeance in her light colored eyes.

"You're being positively ridiculous." Q'tris reminded her irritably, gesturing at her curled up form impatiently.

"I most certainly am not." Trilia protested stubbornly, her face burning as she looked away. Q'tris, however much he loved her, hadn't shared sympathy for his daughter once he'd discovered the reason for her dismissal. Talking back and raising one's voice to someone of higher rank - the Weyrleader no less! - was absolutely inexcusable. For a while he even insisted that she go back and apologize; she'd had no right to act in such an obnoxious manner. But Trilia had thrown a violent tantrum each time, until Q'tris had thrown up his hands in defeat. The tension left in the disagreement's wake still laid heavily on them both.

Q'tris took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to remain calm. "Yes, you are, and you know it." He said through clenched teeth. "We've been over this before, Trilia, what you did-"

"-Was inexcusable! Excuse me for having a heart." She hissed back, eyes flashing. Ronin chittered in agitation on her shoulder, curling his tail more tightly about the girl's neck.

They glared at each other for a moment, both far too stubborn to give in. But finally Q'tris looked away, his expression weary. "Fine - I give up. Stay here. You can miss out on the first Hatching in Faranth knows how long."

"I saw plenty before we jumped." Trilia muttered.

Q'tris gave her a look, but before he could form a retort Minth spoke up. You do not have to watch it, little one. But think about the Hatchlings. They have already begun to hatch and they are frightened. The storm is fierce and there is very little reception for them. Q'trismine and I are going to welcome them. Will you go as well?

It was grudging but Trilia eventually agreed, though her heart seemed to throb uncomfortably in her chest as they blinked from between into the sanctuary of the Hatching Bowl, high above the Sands. Minth eagerly joined her voice to the chorus of hums and Trilia steeled herself for what was to come. After Minth had settled herself on the edge Trilia climbed down to sit against the green's forearm, as far from her father as she could get. As much as it hurt her to be here, her decision to come was another small form of protest for her dismissal. She still refused to be beaten.

__________________

Degellin's eyes were riveted on the eggs from the moment he'd entered the Hatching Grounds. The shivering ovals seemed to tremble nervously in the storm and the cracks that slithered down the sides of one near perfectly matched the ripping, rolling thunder high above. It was almost as though the storm were orchestrating the Hatching, Degellin mused absently. His hands were flexing nervously at his sides again, half out of anxiety half trying to return feeling to his fingertips. The hail had battered up his arms pretty bad, and the freezing wind did little to help his circulation.

On a loud queue from the storm, the first egg burst open, startling Degellin more than the thunder ever had. And the candidate got his first look at an infant dragon. Degellin wasn't sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't this. Though there was an instant where the hatchling had appeared menacing this quickly proved itself untrue. The creature - so little in comparison to the dragons Degellin was still getting accustomed to - looked terribly small and frightened. It's form glistened with goop left over from the egg, and it slunk low against the sand in fear. This was nothing like the Fire Lizard Hatching; there was a certain level of intelligence in those whirling, frantic red eyes that had been absent from the lizards, however smart they may have been. A dragon was a whole new thing.

Degellin's eyes eagerly followed the progress of the brown, then the green, then the blue, always glancing quickly between each one. The dragons were scared but they were amazing. It was enough to take one's breathe away! Even in their terror they possessed a certain majesty. His heart rate spiked as the brown and blue crept carefully toward the boys, but dropped again as they 'Impressed' others. He glanced hopefully at the green - any dragon would be amazing. What did color matter? - but she had Impressed as well.

Frowning, Degellin absently wiped some of the blood from the cuts on his arms, though his efforts only smeared the white cloth and his skin. He crinkled his nose at the morbid result. No wonder the dragons hadn't spared him a glance. He looked positively frightful. Funny that he'd care what a dragon thought of him while he cared little about peoples' reactions. But there was a certain gravity about the Hatching that had mollified Degellin. There was no humor in anyone's eyes. Smiles were faint and fleeting under the furious glare of the storm (unless it was the faces of those Impressed). For the first time in a long time Degellin felt strangely impassive, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.