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Tags: roswen n'tan tejano vyune t'ren th'deus izara taini nomi n'vyn shaela davram elliot althia imogen
Published : 10 months, 1 week ago (Sun, 13 Jan 2008 20:22:20 PST)
Searched: shaela
http://harper-elliot.livejournal.com/1213.html 0 links
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- Who: Starring Sidijith and Xanth, with a host of Fort weyrfolk and guests in supporting roles.
- What: Watch Sidijith and Xanth bring their clutch of 11 eggs to the Fort sands.
- When: I haven't figured out how to ping the time from the game yet. XD It's Elliot's first scene.
- Where: Fort Weyr, living cavern and hatching galleries.
You follow the wafting scent of food north into the lower caverns.
Main Living Cavern (#551J)
Grey stone arches a vast vault overhead, details of the ceiling all but disappearing in the shadows cast by warm, human-height glowsconces and the night hearth's flames; tapestries texture the smooth walls, looking down upon the raised dais, the expanse of tables, the flagstones left cleared for impromptu dancing.
A single broad archway, its carved pattern worn soft with time and passersby's touch, leads west into the bowl; two more, narrower but just as tall, give access to the bustle of living caverns in the south. Predominant looms the builders' masterpiece: the imposing staircase that twines up along the northern wall, leading to the weyr's huge kitchens.
Davram snorts at Th'deus' last statement, then drains his mug of cider. "Conniving is right", he says. "You've always been conniving, to say the least, Th'deus. Not to mention runner-headed, contrary, and disobedient, to put it mildly. I'm surprised you're able to tolerate being indoors, the way you went on when you were a candidate."
Taini just laughs. She shakes her head. "I bet both Davram /and/ B'ren'd appreciate that." The teen laughs again. The Weyrleader is sitting by the fire with his legs propped up on a chair, eating, sharing his food with his firelizards. Taini, his sister, sits near him holding an empty klah-cup. Davram sits at a nearby table, eating.
"It's a big cavern, Davram. You notice I don't have an office in your area, do I, Davram? And I can stand the Lower Cavern because there are no less than three exits in three opposite sides of the room." And the baths, because there's warm water there, and that's always an allure, and he still doesn't stay long. "Well, maybe the Steward or someone could talk to the girl. Offer her a position."
Enter Elliot and Julia-- the former being the Weyrharper and the latter being the three-turn-old child that marches bravely ahead of him into the unfamiliar terrain. She's a half-dozen steps into the room before childish shyness takes over and she scuttles back toward the man, who can be pinned as her father by no more than a glance at the two of them. Not to mention the distinctly "lost" expression worn by the pair, with Elliot lacking the aforementioned shyness but still stuck by the entrance with a glazed-and-dazed look on his face.
Enter Nomi, as well, shorn and shaken, but striding with intent towards the Weyrleader even as her dragon reaches for Xanth. "Its time, Th'deus." How's that for an Rp-destroying entrance?
Taini looks around. "Time?" For what? Duh, what were they just talking about. "Are we ready Davram?" She asks, frowning. "She's clutching?"
Davram, about to respond smartly to Th'deus, looks around as he hears Nomi, as well as Elliot and his little girl, enter the cavern, then - as Nomi's words make their import known on him, he stands, nodding to Taini. "Yes, we're as ready as we're going to be. It's time."
No boots. Boots. Th'deus frowns and nods and carefully sets his plate aside. Bo Blue, called to a task, disappears between from a jump off his chair, and Th'deus takes the gold lizard and lets her crawl back up into his sleeve. "Aye, then, Nomi. Take some water, aye?" Anticipation, preparation. He will await Bo Blue's return, struggling under the weight of one of Th'deus' boots, and will begin to fit that to his foot, while the little lizard disappears again for the other.
Being that they're as apt to figure out what's going on as they are to explain quantum physics, it's lucky for Julia and Elliot that someone passes within earshot with the word "clutch" on their lips. Far be it for a Harper to be unprepared; the man simply sweeps the little girl up to his hip and waits for whatever direction the throng is apt to go.
Taini stands, returning her cup to the table, and her hide to a pocket. "Do you need some help getting out there?" She gestures to the big riders following him around everywhere these days. "It's a long walk, isn't it?" Unless he's gonna get flown there. "Xanth give you a hand, maybe?"
Nomi will ignore everone but Th'deus today, allowed to be impolite, and pause there with the Weyrleader for a squeeze of his hand. "Water, yes, good idea." She'll detour towards Harry and claim a skin beaded with perspiration on the outside. Then, back the Barlords, "Perhaps that is a good idea. Will he come?"
As Nomi's concentration is fully on Th'deus, Davram steps back, a look of worry beginning to cross his face, now. He whispers, "...she's really going to clutch..."
The other boot is dropped nearly on Th'deus' lap as the blue lizard comes out of between, nearly foot-wear first. Th'deus doesn't manage to catch it -- need more juggling lessons -- but he does scoop it up and shakes his head to Taini. "Nay. He's already there. We'll -- R'xim?" A glance at the other bronzer, who nods. He'll take them. Boot on and levering himself up off the chair, Th'deus about limps over to Nomi, but he'll grin to her. "It's alright, right? Is that my line or yours?"
Taini shrugs and leaves Thadd in better hands than her own. She gets herself some water, and turns to Davram. "I'm going to go watch. You can, or you can stay here." She sighs, and tromps out the door. She's never seen a clutching, and besides, this way, she can be a part of the candidate thing from beginning to end. Or something like that.
"Its alright. Sidijith is looking forwards to it." They Weyrwoman rubs at her own belly, as if feeling it stretch and tug. "I'm not sure what I expected, but so far I feel as well as I did already. Come then, let us join our dragons."
Thus, on the arm of his wingmate, and hanging lightly onto the arm of his Weyrwoman, Th'deus will head out the door. "Aye, lass."
You see? The general throng. Elliot just has to follow along.
Davram belatedly, with an incipient look of trepidation on his features, follows Taini outside, toward the Sands. He glances around the cavern, for a moment, before he silently leaves.
Exchanging one variety of hustle-and-bustle for another, you depart the lower caverns in favor of the vast Bowl.
Traveling spam snipped.
Heading towards one of the large pillars, you wind up its spiral staircase to the galleries above--and, better yet, the cooler air.
Galleries (#881J)
Level upon tiered level of hard stone seats, best cushioned for comfort if one is to stay long, arc in spacious, showy display -- all the better for viewing other spectators, as well as the heated sands so far below. Though centuries-old pillars suspend these galleries high in the air, the mammoth cavern's peak extends dragonlengths higher yet, the grey rock lending an illusion of clouded, nighttime skies that's only enhanced by the constellations of living, growing glows and the intense, perspective-warping heat.
Broad staircases spiral downward to the floor of the cavern, the middle of each step indented by generations of treading feet; a narrow walkway circles northeast towards the dragons' ledges.
Shaela will, carrying the restless puppy, arrive.
Taini steps up the stairs, to find herself a good seat. She sits down, and looks out on to the sands.
Imogen and N'tan enter from the ledges, his hand the lightest of guiding touches at the small of her back. She glances up at him, all youthful hope and bright smile. "Will you watch with me?"
On the sands, Th'deus arrives on a bronze dragon not his own, wedged between R'xim of Sirocco wing and the Weyrwoman Nomi. The three dismount with some evidence of trouble, but all is well in the end, and the big bronze wings his way up to a ledge, while his rider remains conspiciously near the Weyrleaders. R'xim is, evidently, on Weyrleader-Babysitting-Duty this night.
Davram makes his way up the stairs, his movements slowing as he approaches the top. He finally reaches the last step, then peers around the area, spotting Taini, and moves to join her, where he sits, his back stiff and taut with tension.
For those who did not get to hear the term before, Elliot arrives as part of the "general throng" coming from the caverns. He carries, now piggy-back style, a little girl of three-ish turns with her arms tight around his neck and a wide-eyed unfamiliarity with her surroundings, similar to the indecisive look worn by the Harper himself. Knowing no one, he just wanders along the seats in search of anything empty.
Begrudgingly, N'tan nods to the girl, though it isn't Imogen that has his teeth grinding to gravel. Flicking a finger toward the uppermost tier near the ledges, he mutters, "Here. Close to /him/." The tall broad man doesn't even look at the sands yet.
On the sands, Xanth lifts his head to mark the arrival of the humans, and then, with a twitch of his tail, prowls the edges of the sands. His usually awkward land-bound gait is slowed and made smoother by the heavy going. His tongue flicking out, his eyes whirling brilliant glittering blues, he investigates, ensures that none hide here, and that it is completely safe. Shadows claim dark Xanth as their own, but his eyes reveal his methodical investigations.
Taini watches Davram's progress with a sigh. "Are you going to be okay through this?" She frowns.
Shaela gives Elliot a smile, mostly because of his company, really. "Here... Harper, want to sit here?" A gesture indicates a seat, -here-, and Shae grins at the girl, holding the puppy to her a bit tighter. "The pup slobbers but seems to like children."
Davram nods slowly to Taini, although he has a worried look on his face. "I... need to start... adjusting to..." His voice trails off, as he looks downward at his hands.
Izara was just running errands from her crafthall and the smithforge here at the Weyr. Then just as she completed her chore, several people ran past towards the hatching grounds and the murmur of 'clutching' was heard. So the apprentice thought that maybe, just maybe her craftmaster wouldn't mind if she came back a little late right? Besides, she could always blame it on her cousin for making her stay or something. In fact, she takes a look around the galleries for Imogen or an unobtrusive place to watch.
Imogen practically glows when N'tan gives his assent, and there's little doubt that she doesn't much care where they watch from. She allows herself to be guided to that topmost tier, indicating a seat with a quick jerk of her chin. "Here?"
And children like puppies! Julia, that being the little girl, is let down onto a chair; despite her shy overtones, she marches directly up to Shaela and the puppy with an "ooooh!" of delight. "Thank you--" Elliot's quick eyes flick to Shaela's knot, spawn a fast smile. "--Journeyman. I'm afraid we've arrived at a most auspicious time." There's something about the way he says it, like one could slot 'inconvenient' right in where 'auspicious' fits.
Roswen putters up the stairs, and then down them once again as she enters into the galleries. Not wanting to miss a single thing, the girl forgoes the empty seats further up top to make her way towards those closest to the sands. Nice and front n' center to all of the egg-laying action. Or egg-laying horrors, depending on how she takes it.
Shaela flashes a quick grin back at Elliot. "Story of my life. But, then, I've never seen a Clutching. Have you? Shaela, Beastcrafter. I've a daughter that's as many months as yours has turns, I'd wager. And the pup, his name is Carson. Hi." The last greeting, Shae addresses directly to the little girl herself. "Here, you know how to pet a canine?" That, too, Shae asks of Julia, not Elliot.
On the sands, Sidijith prowls around inside the Sands, in the opposite direction of Xanth; Sands-dancing, dragonstyle. She'll pause near Nomi and the not-Nomi's patch of carpet and accept it with a reluctant shake of her wings, then continue this investigating circle till she passes Xanth three times. Once for interest. Twice for pattern. Thrice for luck. The galleries are ignored and she'll settle, as most queens do, as far away from entrance and onlookers as possible to where the thermals are hottest and the Sand burns against her hide. Perfect.
Taini nods, as she turns toward Davram for a second. "Yeah, you're probably right." She pulls out the water she brought with her. "He had a good idea." She shrugs. "Did you get to see many clutchings?
Davram's lips quirk slightly as he nods. "Yes", he responds. "...many... more than I can remember."
Elliot, with the tone of a parent who has seen many kitties run in terror, "Soft, Julia." So the little girl's hands go from grabby-grabby to timid while she nods at Shaela and chatters everything she knows about puppies. "I'm told we're past the very worst toddlerhood has to offer, now we're just pretending to be shy. --Elliot, Harper, and Julia. And yes, I've seen a fair few clutchings. You're not posted?" He settles himself on the far side of the child, a hand on her belly to recall her post haste if the petting gets rough.
Nodding mutely to Imogen, N'tan slips onto the bench and surveys the lay of the land - first the people. Several unfamiliar people catch his attention, but none more then the new harper and a singular girl with chestnut hair. A quick flash of a glance goes to the girl beside him, and back to Izara, with an eyebrow flick at the end.
On the sands, Xanth parses his movements to the queen's, until she stops and cloisters herself over /there/. Then Xanth pauses to swing his gaze up to the watching dragons. They, as well, are inspected before Xanth rears back on his hind legs and mantles his ebon-tipped wings in a salute. In darkness the eggs were conceived, in darkness they will be laid. Only then will Xanth settle himself into his habitual crouch, off to Sidijith's side, where he can yet stretch his muzzle out and brush it across some part of her hide, and he will wait. And watch. Those in the stands may feel the moist brush of muggy sulfur across their minds. Light, scanning, passing on as the dragon himself eyes those in the galleries.
On the sands, Nomi has her bandages off as well, and her hair, but will try and see Th'deus settled into one of the chairs though she'll stay standing. She'll take his hand though and grin, "Here we go, Weyrleader. A new generation of Fort dragons. I hardly imagined it would come to this, the day Firannoth tempted me from Boll."
T'ren finds a place, well back from the balcony, to sit and watch those in front of him, as well as the clutching on the Sands.
"No, no." Shae shakes her head. "That's another long story. I'm here... Ah. Long story." The story is not one that Shae intends to commit to, either, right now. "You've just arrived? She's lovely, the girl." For her talking, Shae is also able to watch Julia with the puppy, and once, her hand will come out to demonstrate Julia's father's 'softly'. "There. Like that. There." Carson tries to lick any skin he can crane his puppy-tongue around to. He takes no prisoners.
On the sands, Th'deus settles only heavily into one of the chairs, looking pale and wane. His eye closes for a moment, and sweat drips down his features, but he'll catch Nomi's small hand in his huge one, and nod to her. "Nay, Nomi. Never thought I'd be on this end of the dragon egg equation." His gaze opens and that one eye turns toward the Weyrwoman, silhouetted against her pale gold dragon. "Glad Xanth and I could make it." Th'deus grins at her, though he'll reach with his other hand to wipe at the sweat beading on his forehead.
On the sands, Sidijith, a weedy garden of golds and ivory, honey and buttercups, goes more green than usual as the ripple of contractions flares along her grand lengths. She'll dig the trench a bit deeper at the end, with muzzle and forepaws, and then turn herself around so her nether-parts are facing away from everyone. She'll shift her feet, raise her wings, and then drop two flowered shells to the Sand in quick succession. Perhaps you catch a glimpse of the petal'd, spring-sided shells. Perhaps not. She's quick and furtive about burying them in the Sands.
Taini nods. "Haven't seen any, not that I recall." It's possible she saw some when she was a small girl, and can't remember it. "I dunno. It's probably a good idea that I'm here for it."
On the sands, Bluebell Woods Egg
On the sands, Somewhere there is green, beneath, in streaks and spikes, but mostly there is blue: from indigo at the more shadowed end through the entire spectrum of blue, finishing in baby-blue-white where the light is strongest. Patch upon patch builds up upon the surface, formed out of tiny bell-shaped specks jostled tightly together, azure and aqua pastels, flakes of powder-blue confetti and periwinkle paint splatters, all coalescing in a carpet of flowers that covers this egg completely.
On the sands, A shift, a shiver, and it is followed by Ceremony of Blossoms Egg
On the sands, Smoothly polished, clouds of delicate color drift across the surface of this egg, ranging from the white of snow, creamy peach-kissed flesh, and the gentle blush of a rosy sunrise. Like petals, silky and blurred, they fall in scattered profusion, while elsewhere hints of exquisite jade and the discreet suggestion of green tea pervade just beyond this abundance of pastel color. Exuding an air of tranquility and perhaps instilling a sense of peace in the beholder, the soft hues are coupled with a subtle pearlescent sheen, suggesting that while it may appear simple in nature, it holds secrets and exoticisms beyond those you can merely behold in plain sight.
Cue the cluster of giggles sure to erupt when a little girl gets puppy-kisses, and the proud proclamation from Julia; "Daddy, puppy likes me!" She does well with him once demonstrated, chubby hand exploring ears and nose while Elliot raises his eyebrows at Shaela's long-story. "We have, and thank you. Lucky girl looks like her mother." Except that she's the black-haired, brown-eyed image of her father in miniature. "I suppose you're in no place to shed a little light on the general melancholy of the weyrfolk then?" Because a Harper couldn't /possibly/ know latest gossip.
On the sands, Xanth draws himself to his feet, as if a nervous father himself, and he'll ease forward, further obscuring anyone's view of the eggs, until he gets his own look at them. That done, the lean serpentine bronze begins to dig out another ditch for the gold. Easy movements, without spraying sand all over, he attends the gold's movements as well.
Izara is a bit relieved to see no particular questioning over her presence, so she finds a seat in the middle rows where she can watch with well suppressed glee. Oh the tales she could tell now, Iona will undoubtedly be shrieking with envy after this. At first the wait seemed to be torturous, watching the queen digging in the sand, then it begins and there they are, eggs in quick succession. She oohs and gasps with the crowd, leaning forward slightly as if that would make it easier to see.
Davram finds himself unconsciously reaching for Taini's hand, a look of trepidation still on his face as the eggs begin appearing. "It's... been a while since...", he replies to her. "I... was busy, and couldn't make most of the more recent clutchings."
On the sands, Nomi shifts her feet in time with her dragon's large paws. "As am I, Th'deus. As is Sidijith." Okay, well even Sidijith is ignoring Xanth right now, focused as she is on their first rather surprisingly small two eggs. "I think I saw white and blue and palest greens? Two, right? That was two?"
"Melancholy. Oh yes." And Shae opens her mouth to explain what she's heard, what is in the loops of Beastcrafter gossip, when she glances to the sands and arches her brows, "Eggs. There! Is it?" And the harper will have to wait, longer, for the various ails that have haunted Fort Weyr of late.
Imogen quickly takes the seat next to N'tan, following the quirk of his eyebrow to find Izara's familiar face in the crowd. Without a second thought, she cups hands to her mouth and shouts, "Izzie! /Izzie/!" But will her voice carry far enough?
On the sands, Sidijith is not ignoring Xanth, she'll let him invesigate the eggs and help her bury them. A touch of muzzle to his hide, the slink of her tail across his, a wing, engtanlging honey against his darker fiery sails. No, she will not ignore her consort today, of all days. The third one is giving to him to bury. She knows he has liked green, in the past.
On the sands, The Rainy Season Egg
On the sands, Layer upon layer of varying verdant greens disappears into the depths of this egg until the last distant point collides with an infinite ominous darkness. The vast majority of the shell is washed clean with a cloying wetness that sticks to limb and leaf, giving them a surreal vivid luster. Tangled convoluted moss clings and stylishly drapes throughout the temperate rainforest, softening curves and adding the illusion of texture to the egg's surface.
On the sands, Th'deus clears his throat with amusement. "If you say so." The chances of the one-eyed Weyrleader who has a night-seeing blue firelizard, spying what /colors/ those putative eggs were. And Th'deus keeps a firelizard up his sleeve; the minute and bound baby gold firelizard makes an appearance hanging precariously from Th'deus' sleeve, only to be transfered to that other bed of sand, on that other klah-table, near his chair.
Roswen blinks as the eggs, as they just start popping out of the dragon. Her lips briefly form a perfect 'O' at the sight, before she clamps her mouth shut. People really don't need to see down her gullet. She casts a quick glance to one of her seatmates, offering a quick and wry grin, and then she is back to dragon-watching.
N'tan jerks back away from Imogen when she yells, surprise written on his long features at such a 'loud' outburst from the generally quiet girl. The similarities were not lost on him, so the brownrider inquires, "Sister?" as he settles back upright.
Taini looks down startled at the man grabbing her hand, but she sees that it's just his, and he's drawing moral support from it, she'll open her hand, and squeeze his hand gently. She looks around, to see who's all in the stands. When more eggs show up, Taini grins. "Oh, cool. Theyr'e pretty." She hadn't remembered that. the Hatching was so busy.
An older rider wearing a worn, but gaudy set of leathers, and bearing the knot of an istan wingleader with blue, steps into the mild chaos of the galleries, or at least mild compared to what the hatching day will be. He threads his way through with practiced ease, staying in no ones way for very long andd finding himself a seat to watch the fun. His hair is only starting to be threaded with grey, and the strands hide in his already light, quite blond not quite brown. he nods politely to any in his vicinity and then turns his full attention to the show.
Elliot, to Shaela's excitability, seems unmoved by the arrival of a pair of eggs save for merriment glazing his expression; "I believe that is a safe assumption, Journeyman, given the nature of the event." He gestures toward the sands, complete with clutching queen. Somewhere in all this, Julia has decided that Carson's new name is also Julia, and her crooning at him is interrupted only when she raises her face to peer at the sands.
N'vyn slips in with his usual stoic silence and finds a place at the back. He is older, too, but decidely un-gaudy in dress and knotted to Fort. He will give the Itsan a polite nod though, in answer, and then also focus on the clutching.
Dagmar is here, slipped in when no one was looking and arranged herself somewhere inconspicuous near the back of the stands. She's not conversing, not mingling, and keeping carefully silent as she watches the progress of the clutching. Occasionally, her gaze darts down to rest on the backs of certain people's heads, but for the most part she keeps her expression carefully blank and unreadable.
Davram looks downward at the eggs as they appear, then nods slightly. "Yes", he responds to Taini, "...they're ... pretty."
On the sands, Nomi will describe the eggs then, to Th'deus, as they are laid and as she can see them through her sight and, cheating, through her dragons. Quietly, but with smiles and touches, she'll let Thad seems them as she thinks she does, before they are buried. He could look, of course, with Xanth, but Nomi's delight in the eggs makes her forget other things and she almost manages a return to 'bubbly-cheerful'.
Izara almost jumps out of her seat to hear her name being shrieked from behind her. Eyes wide, she looks about and then finally back at the higher tiers. "Gennie!!" She calls back, then flushes as the noise seems to echo. She manages not to trip though as she abandons her seat and all but climbs over several people to head up to the top. She plops down beside her cousin with a bright smile but then looks past her to the older fellow beside her. "And who's this?" He doesn't look like the infamous L'ton that Imogen gushed to her about.
"You're teasing me." Shae remarks rather dryly, but with a half-smile over to Elliot that suggests that she is not entirely upset about it. The puppy has almost managed to make it down to the gallery seat, when Shae absently adjusts it and switches his head toward the other side. There, Carson tries to taste Shae's other neighbor.
Taini just watches the eggs come, and shakes her head. "I wonder if it hurts." What a strange question, and who knows where it comes from. "I'll have to ask Nomi later, maybe." She says, frowning.
"Cousin," Imogen corrects, already regretting the quick shout. N'tan is hardly the type you want your cousin to bring rumors home about. "N'tan," she introduces, with something decidedly defensive and possessive in her tone, and a warning glance for her cousin to /behave/. "This is Izara." Oh, how she tries to draw herself up and seem ever so much older than Izzie.
Without the puppy, Julia goes off to make friends of the first person about-her-size she can come across, near enough for Elliot to keep an eye-and-ear on her now that shyness has melted to curiosity. He answers Shaela with the beginning of a chuckle; "I am, but just a little. --I take back what I said about melancholy." That last is tacked on about the time the two girls get to calling to each other from across the room.
On the sands, Xanth is quite near Sidijith now, a shadow to her pale form, and each egg is nuzzled, his hawkish muzzle sliding along Sidijith's foreclaws with the trust that she will not catch him with a talon. His wings press close to his back, tail counterweight to the machinations of the front end as he buries those Sidijith leaves for him.
The eggs, they are there, and not Nidhgoth's, and -are- Fort's, so N'tan's interest wanes almost the instant his gaze hits the sands. So the muddy eyes stray back to the audience, stalling on an olive-skinned female with summery highlights, before being ripped away by Izara's exuberant presence. The man silently waves at the introduction and then pretends to be absorbed in the egg laying.
Davram looks at Taini as she asks her question, a curious look on his face. "Of course, it hurts", he replies, whispering. "...why wouldn't it?"
On the sands, Sidijith is supposed to take hours and hours to clutch her eggs, but she seems eager to get them over and done with and into the Sand. There is time, between this first seasons of three eggs to help Xanth deepen the trench a bit and walk about. She knows, instinctively, where the first three are buried though they are sunk so far into the sand few others might know where they lie. In coming days they will be revealed, and turned, reburied, half-buried, and at the end left on the surface as if to cool. Today they are buried deep into the Sands. It is not terribly exciting for humans. It /is/ terribly exciting for Sidijith and she keeps breaking off her circling to nuzzle in against Xanth and push her head against his chest and belly. Then, with a rumble as loud as thunder, she will drop him another egg.
On the sands, Summer Thunderheads Egg
On the sands, Anticipation colors the egg's broad seat an eerie shade of ash overlaid with lucent topaz. Towering pillars of clouded slate loom far closer than the horizon would like to admit, their bellies heavily leaded and ironwrought, their bulbous heads crowned in ivory and bone. In flashes of amber and searing titanium spears they spew their electric rage through the sallow atmosphere, with only yesterday's pattern to promise clear skies in their wake.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean you, although..." She sighs. "I'm sorry." She turns to watch more eggs coming. "I meant for Sidijith."
Davram continues watching the hatching, a rapt look on his face. He whispers, "There's so many of them."
With a shake of her head and an indication to the sands, "Oh! Another one, I think. I've never seen them quite that affectionate. Of course, I never made it to a Clutching at Telgar, either. Is that normal? The male helping to bury them?" So much the Beastcrafter, Shae analyzes the dragons' behaviors aloud, perhaps for the Harper's benefit, or perhaps not. "And," she sidelings, "It is melancholy around here. Dragons dying and someone attacked the Weyrwoman and someone else tried to kill the Weyrleader and I'm not entirely sure if they're melancholy because he survived, or because he did not." That last is spoken quietly, for Elliot's ears alone. "Crazy place, this."
Izara flicks wild errant strands of her hair away from her face, looking back at the sands and leaning back and forth to get a better look. As the eggs are buried out of sight though, she makes a small sound of frustration before look back to the two beside her. Now, she might indeed be a whole huge two turns younger than Imogen, but it appears that she is indeed growing up quite quickly, more so than her other cousin Iona. She gives the quiet N'tan a nod and a smile edged with just a hint of contemplation before leaning close to her cousin. "So... what happened to the /other/ one?"
It really was inevitable, that Roswen's attention to the egg-laying would eventually wane. Her glance trails over towards this person or that among those in the galleries, letting her attention remain with this person here or there for a moment before moving on. In the midst of peering curiously at a girl to the side, she winces at the thundering of the dragon on the sands, her attention immediately snapping back. "Mmmmm."
On the sands, Th'deus draws Nomi's hand to his lips, lightly, before releasing it. Whatever rumors that these two didn't get along might be belayed by the way that they seem to touch as much as their dragons. When Th'deus leans forward to try to see at least the dragons, he brushes the back of his hand against the outside of the Weyrwoman's thigh, before reclaiming her hand.
"Hush," Imogen says quickly, with a sideways glance to see if N'tan heard her cousin. "/Later/." Never was one word laced with so much information. Louder now, "did you see that last one she laid?" Distract, distract, distract.
On the sands, Xanth slides forward to curl around this newest egg, before he'll back off to admire from a distance. Only then, when the humans are given a glimpse of the egg's stormy shell, will Xanth proceed to bury it. A little blue firelizard wings down, small even next to the wiry bronze, and will assist Xanth in that burial task.
On the sands, Nomi unconciously shifts herself closer to her Weyrleader. She'll hitch her left hip in against his chair and, with him ahold of her right hand, hook the other to the nape of his neck to balance her. It is a gentle touch -- friendly and chaste -- with nothing lavicious about it but the ease of being familiar with another human. "I thought it would be harder than this, Th'deus. For Sidijith." And by extension, for Nomi. "Do they look a bit... small... to you?"
On the sands, Sidijith thinks they are pefectly sized, thank-you-very much. Another summery egg follows the first, as if its stormy threats were burned away by the arrivial of mid-summer's bright dream. High summer. Hot summer. This fifth egg is, if anything, smaller than the first four. The queen will roll it back and forth a bit with her tail and the wet and wobbly shell will soon be covered in grains of sand. When it is fully gritty she will roll it down into the next part of trench and push more sand on top.
On the sands, Summer Solstice Egg
On the sands, Light claims this egg with the lucid, liquid, eloquent brilliance of the turn's longest day: luminous golden radiance settles about the shell, as weightless and buoyant as sunlight and just as insubstantial. It is airy, these ambers, wispy and soft, like the delicate touch of flutterby wings or the feathery brush a feline's whiskers made pliable and yielding with warmth and adoration. Imagination. Anticipation. It is as if the happy memory of and endless summer's day came to cavort about the surface of this lively, vivacious little egg.
If N'tan heard the exchange, he shows no sign of it. Instead his attention wavers to the ledges where a brown dragon is sitting watching -him- rather then the sands. A brief look of apology flashes across his heavily contoured face, and then quickly disappears into insipidness.
On the sands, Th'deus draws his fingers along Nomi's inner arm, studying the dragon pair. Then he closes his eyes. "Hard to tell. They all look huge to Bo Blue. I'd have to stand over there, to tell. Next to one. Maybe it's the dark and the distance, Nomi."
Taini wonders what he means, considering there's only four or five eggs. "And more coming." She says, rather nonchalantly.
With no particular indication given that he's listening so intently, Elliot's expression changes little while he cocks an ear toward Shaela's quiet explanation. It's her question he addresses first, at a conversational volume; "Normal? I don't think there is any 'normal' when it comes to dragon, Herder." Then, as quietly in response, "Is that so. And which would you say would have been the better outcome?"
On the sands, "Perhaps", confirms Nomi smiling anyway. "As long as the dragonets are healthy, in the end, I don't suppose it matters." She'll brush the dampest of his hair off his neck and forehead, trying to catch it before the heat-bred sweat runs into his eyes. Not having any hair of her own, this isn't a problem for her, though perspiration gleams on forehead and chin -- she's a woman, she glistens with radiant (bald) beauty? Okay, probabaly not, but she doesn't sweat. Thad can do that. "How you doing, Thad?"
On the sands, From light to dark, Sidijith's next egg is as murky and offcolored as the previous one was lucid and bright. This egg is definitely Xanth's, hued with his self-same potent shades of thick decay and demise.
On the sands, Muculent Midnight Monsoon Egg
On the sands, Moisture appears to bead across the dark swirling surface of this egg that mixes muddy browns with discolored greens and a few unbalanced blotches of what could best be described as black mold. Yet there is also, emerging from this foul compilation of stains, streaks of succulent moon-lit leaf-green, pale night-flower's yellows and a few somber splashes of deep red, perhaps like spilled blood, or vibrant petals whose beauty is not granted in dim light. Incongruous, perhaps are the tiny and brilliant spots of palest glow-green speckled across the whole of the egg, though they condense mostly near the vegetative greens. On the whole, though, this egg lurks quiet and somber, little movement revealing the life within.
Adapting easily to this two-toned conversation, the Beastcrafter with two-toned eyes speaks softly first, though her glance strays automatically to where Julia had gotten off to; three months as a mother, or turns raising little beasts gives her the instinct to know where they've gotten off to. "Depends on who you talk to. One of the few decent folks I've met here calls the whole Trader clan he's come from, words I won't say in front of your daughter." More volume then: "Runners don't show this kind of parental care, of course. The mare hides somewhere and gives birth and, I think, hopes that the stud-runner won't kill it when she brings it back to the herd."
Davram nods, almost absentmindedly, at Taini's comment. "I know... It's just that..."
Izara's eyes glint speculatively in the dim light of the gallery but she gives her cousin a nod before whispering intensely. "You better tell me /everything/ later." Nevermind that she's still keeping mum about Irwin's good news. She gives the quiet rider another critical look out of the corner of her sage green eyes and then looks back to the sands. "The eggs are pretty. I'm glad I got to see them, needed details for a new project."
On the sands, Exhaling with a nod, Th'deus half-grins up to Nomi. "Been better. Doing alright." He'll faint later, thanks, in the privacy of the infirmary. "How you doing, Nomi?" The question is returned to her, mild baritone, with the attention of the man drawing across the slight Weyrwoman's frame, and how she holds herself.
Julia has found a momentary best friend in another little girl about four being allowed to play with her mother's beads; Elliot must think she's safe enough. "I've seen bronzes who show about as much paternal pride as tunnelsnake and then--" He scoops his hand to indicate the papa on Fort's sands presently. "Let's pretend I'm talking to /you/; what do you think?" Even his sotto voice is tinged with humor.
"I will," Imogen promises rashly, her whisper no less intense. She presses ever so slightly closer to N'tan, arm brushing his, though she appears to ignore him. "What new project?" Excitement mingles with dry humor; what will her cousin have come up with now?
On the sands, Xanth steps forward to claim that muddy egg, with a sort of absurd pride that curves his narrow wings into an arch above him. His hawkish muzzle curls around the egg, rolling it toward him in the manner of a chicken, until it sits clear and he can examine it. Delight shines in the father's eyes, even as he sends a glance toward his queen, and reluctantly plants this one into the sands as well.
On the sands, Nomi likes him seated, she can reach his for once. Her chin is tossed towards their dragons and the half-dozen dragon eggs over there. "Today is a good day." Yesterday, not so good. Tomorrow, forecasting stormy skies and bitter wind, but "Today is a very good day." She'll lean in to kiss the top of his head, saying with out saying it out loud, that she is letting nothing stand in the way of that, today.
"If you were talking to me," Shae reasons, "Then you'd be buying me a glass of wine somewhere. Should I be pretending that as well?" She's a Beastcrafter, and might not realize that this actually is a fairly decent hedge at answering the question. For general consumption, the journeywoman continues, "Some canines act like that. Seem like they know its theirs. Or a whole litter. Of course, a bitch can have a litter sired by any of several different fathers. Not that way with dragons."
On the sands, Sidijith changes seasons, again, shifting from summer to autumn with a quick brush of her tail. Green still ripples along her honeyed lengths, but its shifting towards earthy browns and faded, last-turn's leaves mottled with frost-bite and ice. She doesn't seem to have any trouble laying two somewhat same-toned shells to the Sand and leaves them out on the surface for a few moments.
On the sands, Fall's Fury Egg
On the sands, Cinnamon spills as fired, angry browns across the eggs broad surface and burns to blackish, brackish reds at the ends. Sweet cardamom and a light chaff of ground coriander try and temper the fiery spice, but lose the battle to bright paprika and furious cayenne as the hotter hues join the fray. A pattern is revealed then, angular and sharp, as if layers of fallen leaves create wickedly intricate designs across the shell: spicy browns, angry oranges, and decaying black. A singular patch of gold is imprinted on the side, as if someone slapped the egg with a touch of midas and branded a bright handprint to this broad, emboldened shell.
On the sands, Falls Hidden Sunrise Egg
On the sands, As if these colors are the last promises of vibrancy in a landscape shrouded by an uncertain and backlit dewy fog, tawny carotene and paler lycopene vies with livid xanthophylls to draw the eye. Anthocyanins' contribute reds and purples to the whispery-soft circle or indistinct diamond shapes that seem to flash to flavonol-yellows or hint at dying chlorophyll green as one moves about this egg. The shell's texture seems moist, misty, though no liquid can be drawn by a finger - merely the eerie sensation of a /lack/ of sensation: Lost in its fog, this egg shells the promise of a creature which will burn off the mute greyness and embrace as its own, Autumn's sights and sensations.
Taini nods and just watches, and listens. She is impressed by the variations of colors on the eggs.
Stomping his boots on the ground, shifting his position, glancing repeatedly around the cavern, cocking an ear to his surroundings - that is what N'tan does to pass the time. Fidget in other words. If the closed gap between him and Imogen somehow manages to widen, it isn't apparent at what moment it happened. .
Davram grips Taini's hand more tightly, now, as the number of eggs increases on the sand.
Elliot ducks his head with a touche expression found for Shaela's dodge. But he'd never have earned that bit of blue without persistence; "You may pretend I've given you a rain check until I at least have time to unpack my bags, certainly. But I cannot pretend that I am oblivious to your unwillingness to answer." He finds for her a moment to flash a dimpled smile before he shifts enough to recover his daughter, now with lip trembling as her new bestest friend is carted off by a mother with more work than time. "I confess, I have no interest in the mating habits of canines. What brings you to Fort Weyr if not a posting?"
Roswen takes a skin handed to her by a seatmate, nodding her thanks to the girl. A sip and then a grimace later, the skin is passed right on back to the other girl. She drags the back of her hand over her now wine-darkened lips to take up any excess of the liquid, turning her fickle attentions back upon the dragons and eggs on the sands.
Izara continues to watch the sands and if's she's noticed the two beside her playing some odd game of shifting in their seats, she doesn't say anything about it. "It'll be a surprise." she remarks to her cousin though.
Althia says, "am I too late? we had patients in the infiormary!" she pants brushing her hair out of the way"
"That is a third story," Shae grins back at Elliot, though she sports no dimples, "And a third glass of wine, I'm afraid. You're looking to be far in debt here, and you'd best be paying up, because myself and -my- daughter will be heading clear before long, I suspect. There's already two Beastcrafters here and I've not much talent for aught else in my tender years." She does look over at the displayed egg and frowns slightly. They look kind of like they're rotting. I wonder if the fellis that the queen ate, affected the eggs." Again, that's spoken quietly, likely not being an approved topic of conversation at this particular Weyr.
Althia 's ears come up "Fellis teh Queen Ate? Has a Dragonhealer been called? I am only training in the art" of course she's rather rudely butting into a conversation
On the sands, Sidijith will shift herself to help Xanth bury those stormy, spicy shells beside the rotting one he likes so much. She hardly even looks tired, this young queen, with only a bit of droop to her wings and pale sweeps on her hide to betray any exhaustion.
Maybe not apparent to anybody else, but Imogen knows the second N'tan shifts away, though she hides disappointment in chatter with her cousin. "Are you here with Iona? Did Uncle Izar come?" She fakes interest in the sands, in Sidijith burying eggs, in Xanth's behavior. It's all so much less exciting than she expected.
Elliot assures confidently, "I am a man of means, and if that means swimming you in wine, then I hope you brought a bathing suit and a hangover cure." With Julia settled in his lap now, content to watch the eggs with the bored interest of a child fit to fall asleep any time, he's just about to reply to the undertoned remarks of Shaela when Althia interjects. "I don't believe anyone was talking about fellis. We were just discussing the peculiar coloration of that last egg." Certainly a likely subject at a clutching!
Davram has become very quiet as he watches Sidijith, and Xanth, on the sands. Still gripping Taini's hand, he slowly counts the eggs as they're laid.
On the sands, Sidijith will drop another egg to the Sands: softly, wetly, without any fanfare.
On the sands, Woodsmoke at Autumnal Twilight Egg
On the sands, This egg has been caught in the magic time between sunset and moonsrise, its oblong shell wrapped in scarves of luminous cobalt and silver-studded lapis that both beckon the frost and keep it at bay. The charcoal skeletons of ash and oak cling to their tattered russet cloaks and huddle close to evergreen cousins, searching for a warmth that can only be scented in the faint haze of woodsmoke wreathing their crowns.
Taini watches, listening to the words around her. She's on the alert, but doesn't hear anything that sounds too bad, but it makes her ignore her friend. She watches her brother on the sands, appearing more happy, and she grins.
The talk of 'fellis' and queens isn't lost on N'tan, and for the first time tonight he goes quite alert, even leaning into Imogen. The reason for this lean is to get closer to the source of the conversation, but it's up to her how she takes it.
Izara gives a quick shake of her head. "No, I was here to drop something off at the smithforge here and I heard that there was a clutching." She suddenly looks nervous. "I probably should get going though, before I'm missed." She bumps shoulders with her cousin, then gets up to head back out. "Good to meet you, N'tan was it?" She gives the man another look from head to toe as if to check what it was about him that got her cousin's attention. "Bye!"
Vyune emerges into the galleries still unwinding layers against ::between::, unnecessary now in the sudden and vehement sands' heat. The bundle in her arms remains tightly wrapped, however, the dorsal of a blue firelizard showing embroidered along the swaddling's turned-down corner.
Shaela glances back toward Althia. Whatever she was going to say is derailed by what the Harper has just said, and Shae will smile and nod to that, appearing for a moment some vacous little blond, nevermind the brown in her hair. Her grin toward Elliot preceeds the quip: "Dig a hole, fill it with wine and I'll just make up stories, but you'll have to determine the truth of them. Is that an activity at which you excel, Journeyman?"
Tejano trails in behind Vyune, careful of her step and his own and trying to take a glance now and then toward the sand, and also looking around the galleries. So split his attentions, nothing is going too well.
As Taini glances around another time, she grins, spotting her brother and family. "Teej!" She shouts. "Come sit down!" She pats the seat beside her, and waves.
On the sands, Xanth eases back to begin another ditch, careful that the spare sand excavated, does not go over the previously laid eggs. That done, he'll turn his study toward Sidijith, quickly-whirling eyes betraying his absolute delight at what she continues to produce.
Althia Perks at hearing Taini, then decides to join the fun "TEEJ!" comming over to snug the fellow
"Bye," Imogen calls after her cousin's retreating back, then shifts uncomfortably in the silence that descends on her and N'tan, a tiny knot of quiet in a boisterous crowd. She leans her weight onto her hand on the bench between them, her head almost touching his shoulder.
T'ren shifts on his seat, stretching to ease muscles which have become sore from sitting so long.
On the sands, Sidijith will see that one buried with rest. She will shorten the ditch as Xanth digs it, making it deeper and wider. Then the young queen will run her hide along Xanth's again, side to side, flank to flank, tail along his. Settled there a moment she will shuffle herself forwards, cover the hole, and drop the last two eggs to the Sands. Still small, these two. One pale ivories and whites, one blackened and blue, as if Nomi and Thad or Xanth and herself were caught in egg form and dropped into fired earth, together. Winterborn, they were, and winter is where they will end this.
On the sands, Glacial Desert Egg
On the sands, The colors that drift across this nearly symmetrical egg are those of a bleak and arid winterscape. A wash of greenish-grey, the color of juniper once frost has stripped the life from its branches, provides the backdrop for the dried-straw scratches of pale yellow and sun-bleached clumps of faded browns. Twined with what appears to be globs of dirty-white spattered across the shell are thicker cords of bark-grey claws which seem to cage the entire egg with long fingers and thicker knuckled joints which serve as axis for smaller and smaller lines, so that from at least across one grey-blue section of the egg, comes the illusion of a frozen-puddle cracked into thousands of diamond puzzle-pieces.
On the sands, Winter Solstice Egg
On the sands, Shadows lovely, dark and deep, bury the shell of this languorous egg in quilted, downy, vivid shades of winter's longest night: midnight blue, ebon silhouette, moonlit ivory, and the twinkling silver of a million tiny stars. There is a promise in that panoply of glittering and gleaming metallic starlight as it dances with the darkness, a guarantee in every flashy step and glimmering swirl of pearl that light will return to the world, anon, and winter's hoary grip will be broken. For now though, over cavernous blue and yawning, mysterious blacks, winter holds fast as feathered patterns of frost and crystallized ice lit by the cool touch of moonlight.
There is something to be said for the training of a Harper, and at least part of it must attune one to exactly which ears are prying; Elliot swings a look around toward N'tan's general direction, perhaps unaware exactly who is keyed in but aware of some shift over yonder. But it's Shaela he answers, all smiles again; "Why do you ask? Is telling lies one at which you excel, Journeyman?"
Vyune's hooded gaze arrests on that waving hand, the delight and relief lighting her eyes washed away a moment later by Althia's approach. "Mind Anzan!" Swift and sharp, her reprimand will be no softer for what accord she's reached with the Healer. "How many so far?" rides swift on the heels of, "Be that it?"
Tejano grins up as his name is called, and sends a wave toward both Taini and Althia. "Althia -- come see my son!" The bundle in Vyune's arms is indicated. "And how many have they laid? Are they done? We came as soon as we heard." Taini gets a wave and another grin.
Althia looks at Teej trangly "the dragon's haven't laid ANY of yoru sons...or did you mean eggs?" she comes over to peek in the bundle
Taini stands up, watching the dragons finish. "Teej, it's so good to see you guys! Are you going to stay?" She says, grinning. Obviously they're going to stay. "Welcome!"
Izara gains only a distracted nod from N'tan as he realizes the topic he was listening to is dropped. A frown works its way onto thin lips, permeating darkness outwards until the clouds in his eyes go almost black. Looking quite ready to launch, the long-haired man hisses to Imogen, "Ready to go?"
T'ren makes his way toward the ledges, where his lifemate has perched. He waves, to no on in particular as he leaves.
"No no. Can't tell them well, nor can I tell them well." Shae answers, perhaps cryptically. As she seems to be somewhat aware, her gaze will follow Elliot's to N'tan, but she doesn't linger her attention there. The other disruptions at the door, with those coming and going, also distracts her. Shae misses the laying of the last two eggs and then regrets that by leaning forward to watch. She gets her chin licked by her efforts, as Carson siezes the opportunity.
Davram quietly, still sitting, watches Taini as she greets her brother. He finally stands, stretching, then moves up behind Taini, looking inquisitively at Tejano.
Tejano catches Davram's expression and he, at least, recognizes the man. He was there, right there, when Davram lost Tormanth. Tejano's gaze, pale ice green search the other man's features for a long moment, before he'll offer a grin and a hand-clasp. "Davram. You are looking so much better. I'd like you to meet my lady, Vyune, and my son, Anzan." Althia gets a wink and a nudge and indication as well to see the babe. Tejano's arm slides proudly around 'his lady', at that, and cheer suffuses his demeanor.
Vyune dips her arms slightly, just enough to tip a glance at Anzan for Fort's Weyrhealer and new Steward. The baby looks like he ought to, for the most part, still pink and wrinkly with dark, cloudy blue eyes that haven't turned yet. Beneath a newborn flush, his mother's burnished skin tone lurks; the upward tilt of his eyes and the thick, blue-black hair is hers as well. There is, in fact, very little to declare this child Barlord at all. "Well ta meet ye, Davram." Her arms are tender, but her eyes are not as they skim over this stranger to her.
Elliot, happily; "Then it hardly matters whether or not I'm any good at discerning truth if you've no skill for hiding it, hmn?" His voice is back to low again, likely owing to the fact that Julia has nodded off again-- or for the fact that he asks quietly toward the yet-again distracted Shaela, "Why would a queen eat the f-word?"
It's either the thunderheads in N'tan's eyes or the dangerous hiss of his voice that makes Imogen shrink almost imperceptibly away, but she nods her assent anyway, standing and waiting for N'tan to lead the way out.
On the sands, Nomi watches the dragons and tries to surpress any disappointment. Today is a good day. "Eleven? I know our flight was short, Th'deus, and a queen's first clutch can always be small, but... eleven?"
On the sands, Xanth swings his head over the eggs, snakes his muzzle ever-so-gently across their surfaces, and then draws his head up to slide along the inside of Sidijith's neck. His tail slides through the sand, smoothing an arc behind him, before pushing up a serpant's shadow of sand just to the south of three of the buried eggs' trench. Only slowly, will Xanth assist in burying these last of his progeny, as if he is loathe to have them hidden away so soon.
Davram returns Tejano's greeting, as he clasps the outstretched hand. "I'm doing better", he replies. "...but it's been a long haul." He nods to Vyune in greeting, then looks down at Anzan, and smiles. "Your son looks just like you", he tells Tejano.
N'vyn slips out as well, as silently as he came. He's so boring.
On the sands, "Eleven is small. She knows she's done?" Th'deus asks. "Good thing that Eviyath flew high and long. I hope they do better." There was to be more, but he cuts it off. Subsides in a quiet sigh, with furrowed brow, as he studies his delighted lifemate.
Althia smiles to the CHild and if it is not sleeping tries a gentle tickle under it's chin, as she says with a smirk "I hear the Weyr has a new Stewar..anyone know who he is, I wanna put a few herbs in his wine
A quiet mental count of the eggs hails a, "Hmm, small clutch," and a barely contained grin from N'tan. The driving hand finds the small of Imogen's back again and leads her up toward the ledges, the tall man looming possessively just behind her.
Ever so quiet now, Shae even leans into Elliot lightly, "The other Journeymen," she means BeastCrafters, "Said that they found the remains of some of the beasts there, in the feeding pens. There was one, gutted and it looked like the meat was..." She shrugs at that, and exhales. "There's some... Something definately different about this place." A frown toward the sands. "They're done?"
Taini saunters over to the family, and shakes her head at Althia. "You'll have to go through his assistant first." She says, grinning.
On the sands, Nomi will look, too, to the dragons, and she cannot help but laugh softly. "Well they're happy. Sidijith's fighting with herself whether to dig up that dark one Xanth liked most, or leave it to sit for awhile. I think she'll leave them alone for a few days and just let them harden?" Then, dragging her attention back to him, "Did you want to sit here, awhile longer? Bed? Bath? Dinner?" Nomi, feeling much restored to health if not whole, is going all broody and hennish on him, herself.
Roswen takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as things begin to wind down. "That's it?" she queries, glancing askance to her seatmate and only getting a shrug in return. Rather anti-climatic, really. She doesn't seem quite ready to remove herself from the bench though. Fingers pick at an imperfection on the surface, while she watches the dragons for a longer moment, mostly in consideration.
Althia looks over to Taini "Assistant? oh I suppose HE'S a pushover too ;)
On the sands, He looks weary, but not like he's going to drop dead just quite yet. "Aye, they're happy. You're alright?" Th'deus' dark study turns back to Nomi in not-so-casual assessment. "Do you think you need to be staying here, or can you go somewhere else?" Th'deus draws a hand, absently over his injured firelizard.
Vyune's eyes flare, incredulous, at Davram's assessment, and she spends some moments attempting to find the humor in his smile. Anzan, awakened by the chill of ::between:: not so many minutes before, blinks hazily up at Althia. His fingers curl into tiny fists waved in the air, though whether it's enjoyment or dismay at the Weyrhealer's touch is anyone's guess. "Don't cry much," his dam notes to the assembled, "'cept when he needs ta. They din't tell me this'd be so easy." But her smile's wry, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
A quick sly look is shot back toward Elliot and the woman he is talking to, with a clandestine grin rippling across N'tan's lips before he disappears into the shadows of the upper ledges.
With a shake of his head, Tejano deflects Davram's flattery, but glances at Taini's shoulder knot with a 'Ho!', and a nudge toward Vyune, indicating that same knot on Taini's shoulder. "Look here. We've an Assistant Steward to the Weyr in our midst. Congratulations, sister-dear." Tejano looks to his lover, then, with a smile. "You want me to take him?" Usually there's no shortage of volunteers to hold the baby Barlord.
"It would appear so." Elliot squints briefly, an expression that does not become him, and then says over an exhale, "Eleven is hardly something to write home about, but as you say." He nods just after Shaela's conclusion, only barely time enough for black eyes to watch N'tan's slyness. "There's definitely something /different./ Who would poison..." Too wise to finish that thought in a crowded cavern.
Althia smiles at the child "Well if he's liek his family upi could tie him to a wherry and he wouldn't cry
"Mmmmmn-hmmmmm. So it is to a place of dark mystery and wild rumors that you have found yourself, and your daughter," Shae drops her voice to one best befitting campside stories and tales of heroics and horrors of yesterturn. "What shall you do, but to woo the truth out of those who haunt the caverns, who lurk on the ledges?"
Vyune glances around, shoulders hunching, and then shakes her head at Tejano. "Nay. Ye'd best..." The babe is curled closer to her chest and she tucks herself more tightly into the curve of her lover's arm in a clear display of mistrust and apprehension.
On the sands, Nomi nods for him. "Today is a good day." See, if she just keeps saying that, she doesn't have to say anything else. But, because he asks, and because he will know a lie, Nomi will manage a grin to Thad. "I'm alright. I don't need to stay here, no. Sid hardly needed a babysitter as a dragonet, she certainly doesn't need me here now. I mean, Xanth will stay, right? That's all She wants." And what She wants, She gets. "Besides, its /hot/."
On the sands, "Hordes of wild wherries could not lure Xanth away." Th'deus retrieves his little broken gold lizard and tucks her back into his sleeve. By the time he is ready to rise, R'xim has appeared at his elbow and seems willing to help haul the Weyrleader to his feet, even as Th'deus reaches for Nomi. "Where shall we three go, then?" Th'deus cannot help but quip at his ever-present sitter, whomever might be on that rotation at the moment.
"Thank you, brother dear." Taini grins. "Wait until you hear what my duties are!" She laughs. "Not much change since the last time I talk to you." She says, looking toward the pair. "Or, I could hold him if you'd like." She frowns. "Hey, you wouldn't mind letting Davram hold him from time to time, would you?"
On the sands, "This way..."
Althia looks at Taimi "Well seeing as your an assistant there is a WHOLE lict of things I need for the Infimery
Elliot wears a smirk like a glove, a suitable little quirk of his lips while he stands, hoisting the little girl in his arms with the practiced knack for leaving her slumber undisturbed. "You listen to too many Harper tales, Journeyman." It's a merry chide, a blandly amused one complete with a come-now-dearie look down at Shaela.
"You think?" Shae protests, then shakes her head. "That's gratitude for you! Get on with you, then, Journeyman." Shae settles into the seat at the gallery. "I'll be seeing you around, I suppose, before we're gone. Nice meeting you Elliot Harper and Julia Harper's daughter." Shae's grin is quick, with a wave even.
Thad leans forward to very slowly and very gently nuzzle the baby's cheek IF, andonly if Vy allows him, his eyes whiling ablue like the chicls
Roswen finally pulls her rear end up off of the bench she was seated upon to watch the proceedings. With a back to her behind to smooth down her skirt, and a slight sigh, the teen makes her lonely way out of the galleries once again. Show's over. Bypassing all of those who obviously know each other and are chattering away, she makes her way out and back to the caverns.
"And you. I'd offer a handshake but--" Elliot's hands are preoccupied with a girl just a few turns shy of too-big-to-carry. "Goodnight, Shaela." Picking his way down the steps with meticulously careful feet, the Harper excuses himself out to the bowl.
You go down the stairs to the hatching grounds, hoping your footwear will hold up to the heat. |
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