The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by Dallaney.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction
are copyright© 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern® is
registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with
permission.
Eggs! On the Igen beach! Come one come all as Kismet and Arula's eggs go
pop! (@move me to #7011)
Entered by Civeh (#7454) at Sun Jun 20 21:42:23 1999 EDT
Weyr Lake Shore
Sand stretches from bowl's floor to water smoothly, leaving a mere lapping of slight waves to slap against the shoreline. The sand is left less packed here than it is in the bowl, the soft sand underfoot opening onto the Weyr's oasis. Mirror-like water can reflect merciless sun into the eyes of the unwary, but the bold colors of a sunset casting colors against the lake makes this a much-favored spot. Far to the northwest, the hurry of the living cavern area is left behind and the warmth that penetrates through a weary body on the unshaded shore rivals that of the hatching grounds to the northeast.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Crazy, Speedy, Bayou, Arula, Kismet,
Vegas, and Leia. You see Maniac, Silo in the Golden Field Egg, Plaid n' Denim Farm Clothes
Egg, Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling, Life Hymn Egg, Troubled Author Brown
Hatchling, Deepening Plot Egg, Vauge Devotion Egg, Unwritten Books Egg, and Copyright
Reality Egg here.
Anthy, Methiah, K'den, Solan, Bryn, Sheryn, Kaeldra, Quinta, and Fynnio are here.
The following dragons are here: Nevanth and Kohath
Dallaney A thin child, a literal burst of lanky limbs and untidy blond curls mass into a boyish tangle compressed into her young body. Ragged lines of grit and scratches rake over a darkened brown face, thick lids fluttering open on beady eyes also hazel and oft-times alertly wary. The small face sharpens into depressed cheeks and pursed lips, altogether not too pleasant a sight. Remnants of babyish flab plumpens the sturdy girl's body only slightly at waists, but arms vise-like, are as thin as lengthy legs. A pair of pants, knees scrubbed bare and patched are bunched up at her waist and held by a hide belt, the leather adhesive to skin and showing off thin and athletic legs. Slippers on her feet loosely sewn hang by a thread or two, and her shirt tucked in tight is covered by a miniature jacket similar to the ones used for flight. Emblazoned on the jacket's collar are the unflattering letters spelling out her name-- "Dallaney" in a bright white that even layers of dune dust and smeared bubblies fail to hide completely, only obscuring its last two letters. She is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Ritzo Slightly grumpy and ungraceful. (In her seventh turn) Brightest royal dissolves into threads of glassy midnight upon the moderately scrawny physique of a blue firelizard. Concentrated about angular headknobs and blockish muzzle, the rivulets drip downwards, dispersing from those richer pools in a chaotic scrollwork scrawled across cobalt-blue canvas. Bright, Harper-fair wingspars etch themselves into the chaotic tangle of darkness which makes up thin sails, true coloration of iridescently lightened sapphire finding precious few slivers of space to coerce it's sparkle through. Fredo is 2 Days old.
Methiah then adds, and smiles, "Prince Charming likes to listen to music."
Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling creels louder, not fair! He wants the meat /and/ the independence! Prickly tail flickers across the sand, and he stumbles, burying cobalt muzzle in the dunes once again, the idea that both aren't available slowly sinking in. Thus, rather disappointedly, blue turns to the crowds to find the best way to go about the business, it needn't be anyone in particular, as long as there's /food/!
Solan grins even wider, if possible, and hands out a rather good-sized chunky of fresh wherry. "There you go. They especially like the fresh kind because the smell of blood, bad as it sounds, is still strong. Well, some of them, anyway." He softly chuckles and lets his eyes rove over the gathering, "Haven't seen this many people in a while. Sort of neat, you know? So many interesting stories to be learned..." His charm seems /quite/ suave...and he seems a good one to trust and confide in. Why? Because that's his nature. Years of being a hermit have taught him the values of being a friend instead of a stranger.
Methiah holds out her fresh wherry further out from her body. This meat was cut just this morning, I think the flit would like it, if he dared taste it...
Troubled Author Brown Hatchling continues his hop-trip 'cross the sands, fumbling in his search as little hatchling wearies, finally befuddled brown trips to land in the sand with a *plop*, fluttering his wings in frusteration as he pauses, tilting umber head back with a planititve creel for attention. /someone/, help? He can't do this alone.
Fynnio gasps for air as he rushes in, find Frost no where. He sits down to rest, in the middle of the crowd, oblivious to it. He finally looks up, after catching his breath. Hatching? Oh my..well..it's worth a try..I suppose. He can barely grasp his pouch of meat (which is always with him for his hungry and annoying firelizards), and lets it drop, spilling.
"Not sure," Kaeldra murmurs: short and clipped, but no harshness is meant by the silent cook towards Sheryn. Not like she's watching the hatchlings anymore to know what they're doing. So still, so quiet, you might think she had been lured into a trance of some sort by the gentle, irregular rocking of the eggs, so intently does she stare at them like one mesmerized. But then there isn't much else to look at, just water, sky, sand, people, hatchlings, food. Or food, sky, people, water, hatchlings, sand; the order doesn't matter.
Methiah decides that a hatchling probably won't come her way in a while so she pulls out a book at starts reading.
Solan's head snaps around instinctively, almsot at the same moment his green cries out in alarm. He lowers himself down a bit, eyes finding the source of the cry. One can't help but feel sorry for the little brown...but this one is strong, fear not. His gaze seeks to lock with the brown's...his strong urge to simply cradle the hatchling and make it safe quite evident in his azure windows into his soul. He wants to help...but this one must do this for himself...then comes the reward for good work.
Neo has arrived.
Anthy listens to him talk, accepting the meat and looking at it, brain gone quite blank. Oh yes...just do what you did with the others dear...wiggle it. She wiggles the meat in a jerky sort of manner, getting her movements down as her ears continue to listen to Solan's words. "Yes...they seem to" she says in response to his comment about the meat, voice still soft but not as timid. "Oh...I suppose a lot of people like to watch them hatch" Indicating the hatchlings of course. Gasp! Anthy? Having a conversation? She's relaxing and slowly coming out of her secluded shell.
Neo wakes up from his nap.
K'den leans back against Kohath's side, hands pillowed interlaced behind his head. He'll be poetic some other day, maybe. Kohath, meanwhile, nurses his stolen scrap of meat like a sly fox (a what?) and waits for his moment.
Methiah looks in amazement at the pages in her book, I didn't know that was the anser amazing!!! This book has a ton af answers to questions I thought never possible to anser! I wonder if this book has answers about other books???
Quinta leans in somewhat, gathering folds of blue fluff tightly around her shoulders as it plots to slip off, scootching and dragging and scootching some more to be closer. Location location location. A little heavenly joy dissipates from her expression as it changes to a look of puzzlement, as if this miner couldn't see very far into the night, just a little dance of bright shiny specks that might be eyes and flicks of snakish things that might be tails.
Solan smiles and nods, briefly glancing up at Anthy. "That they do...just being witness to this sort of miracle is a priviledge. Besides, most like to guess which color is in which egg." His rather pleasant voice is soothing as he speaks, gaze going back to the downtrodden brown.
Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling sniffs at a piece of wherry, passes a meat roll, if one has to go depend on someone, he should at /least/ make it a good choice. A snap here a snap there, the blue wanders to the other side and sits and simply /creels/ opportunity had better come fast, he's tired of looking for it!
Dallaney has arrived.
Dallaney arrives.
Methiah 's mouth drops open in shock, "That's amazing!!!"
Troubled Author Brown Hatchling finally pulls himself out of the sand and starts hopping off again - he's not lazy, no no. Just discouraging when you seek answers and all you find are more questions, umber head pauses as he peers from one side to another, soothing voice catching lizard's ears as he hops in new direction hesistantly - do you have any theories on The Question?
Anthy nods, eyes flicking to the brown. A touch of sadness is held within those emerald orbs, as she watches the hatchlings search for the ones who will comfort them, give them answers, and give them opportunities. Meat is probably something else they search for, meat that wiggles in her hands. She glances up at Solan. "Yes...they are a joy" And the only companions for this lonely girl.
Methiah looks toward the blue, the blue. I am your oppertunity, I got meat, a nice house hold.
Fynnio phews. Answers, he needs. Answers to where Frost has gone. Jobs, he has, and could use help...only one of his firelizards seem to like that. Answers and questions. Someday we'll know, why the sky was blue, how Pern was made...someday, maybe today, maybe tomarrow. Some meat is poured out, and eyes flicker from blue to brown.
Dallaney softly strolls in, coming nearer and nearer, crunching soft sand underfoot as yet another crowd inevitably draws the weyrkid in. Glance is given to scattered groups and small look of interest shot to hatchlings, brown eyes gaining an appreciative gleam. Wicked almost, as she plops down on the sand, fetching a spiderclaw out of some casement or other within her clothes, a mark-piece of little value being balanced lightly in free hand even as the still-alive claw wriggles curiously in an attempt to reach the sand.
Methiah goes to the index of the book, hmmmm she turns to page 86. The heading is POSING. OOpps, wrong page. She turns to page %4 54, the heading is Impressing A Flit. Q: How do I impress firelizards? I mean, how or what do I do.??? A: You should have some fresh meat as firelizards like to have some food, but also, you don't want to crowd the flit, you want to give him/her options.
Solan can't help but blaze his sparkling pearls at the brown, "Lot's of things are new to you, aren't they?" He knows from his other 'friends' that the whole hatching things is /quite/ the conundrum. "Well, don't worry...in no time, you'll have all the answers you need, little guy. That which eludes you will become yours, never fear." He nods politely to the creature, voice purposely meant to be calm and stable. He looks up at Anthy, "well, that depends on who you talk to, somtimes." He laughs somewhat, "though I just adore them. Good friends, they are...good friends indeed." Eyes roll back to lock on the brow, almost asking 'Do you need a friend?'
Sheryn grins, her hand extending the meat hesitantly. Chewy chirps rustily. Over there, over there. No, /there/. Her hand wavers from brown to blue indicisively. Make up your mind! She sighs and looks over at the others, watching Anthy especially. They look so hungry, that she can't make up her mind.
Finally, someone who can guide him on his path for answers! Troubled Author Brown Hatchling pauses, then hops needingly up to Solan with a inquiring creel - You like stories, yes?
High-pitched creels turn to warbling croons as Troubled Author Brown Hatchling wobbles towards Solan.
Sheryn notices the brown making a bee-line to Solan and smiles, "Congratulations." she tells him sincerely, before her gaze returns to the eggs and the blue.
Solan smiles and scoops the little brown into his arms, offering a bit of meat. For a minute, he and the brown lock eyes. An eternity lives in that moment...
Silo in the Golden Field Egg wobbles precariously on the edge of a mound of sand- its spotlight has come, the time is right, and cracks line the surface of the golden egg.
Fynnio notices the brown impress, and smiles, waving a congrats, or trying to within the bustle of people. He turns to the blue. Have you found your oppurtunity? Cause I have one. One in a lifetime. Eyes dart to the eggs though, wondering which color will happen to pop out next.
Silo in the Golden Field Egg explodes, leaving behind scattered
shards...and Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling!
Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling
A sky of baby blues flows over this firelizard's soft and supple hide, darker twingles
causing him to look fuzzy or furry. Shadows spin in dots of twilight over his hide to make
marks across the sky, clouds or spots, whatever strikes. Legs too thin to quite support
him shake and shiver, wobbling as he moves with an unsteady gait. Fragile wings painted
with gossamer silver threads shiver and shake as well, newborn even unto death. Sapphire
sparkles around his eyes, bright and interested blinking orbs looking at the world with a
newborn's curiousity.
Anthy nods. "Oh yes...friends and they don't ask much more than food and companionship" Soft voice is fond, talking of the darling creatures as she watches the brown wander to Solan. A happy look creeps into her eyes for him, hands giving a small clap of delight like a little girl who just got her favorite toy. "Congratulations" She says softly, stepping back slightly to let the hatchling and person enjoy the companionship so newly found. Girl lapses into silence once more, plunking down on the sand and wiggling her meat a little.
Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling Creels again, approaching the spill of food to peer at it's possessor, but then glance flickers away towards a wriggling claw, now /there's/ the action he needs! Mild scramble of uncoordinated limbs occurs as blue bites at the claw, so you want to play rough?
K'den smiles smugly as the brown impresses... to someone else. Ha. He doesn't notice the bit of meat coyly hidden under Kohath's claw, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?
Methiah looks over to the blue, she puts the book down on the ground, andcrawls toward the blue, still holding the meat. "Freshmen, they are cool, not cute. :o)
Solan calls Troubled Author Brown Hatchling closer.
Unwritten Books Egg twitches, like a flutter of the pages in the mind, it turns in it's spot. Awaiting for it's story to begin.
Sheryn looks over curiously at the golden egg on which lines are appearing. She looks curious and wonders softly, what will hatch of it. And ducks as it explodes, to reveal a blue. Oh, it's so blue and cute... However, a glare from Chewy reforms her ideas. Got one blue, enough. A curious look to the fluttering egg, and she wonders again...
Quinta blinks three, four times, perhaps coming into focus, adjusting to the darkness. Oofing quietly, she gets up on her hands and knees and elbows through a few people to get closer, plopping right back down on her bum again when she makes her way through. She makes a face, turns, shifting up into a crouch, pulling a slick wet piece of some meat from the sand she was just sitting on. The lightbulb over her thick head is almost visible as she purses her lips smugly, dusts the sand with the corner of the blanket.
Fynnio sighs at his spilled meat, was he too lazy to get it? Maybe. Maybe not. Jobs, he has. Plenty that need help with. Gave turns toward the eggs once more, with a puzzled look.
High-pitched creels turn to warbling croons as Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling wobbles towards Dallaney.
Solan and his new brown gaze at each other quite fondly...answers and more found. Another touching story, eh? Well, plenty more stories to be written.
Unwritten Books Egg dusts sand from the shell with another twitch, slowly cracks appearing in the binding..erh, surface, of the little orb, twitching with a slowly spiralling life, unfolding just like any good saga.
Unwritten Books Egg explodes, leaving behind scattered shards...and
Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling!
Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling
Patient lapis wraps ethereal butterfly-wings, smoothing into a panorama of sapphires and
azure diamonds, quiet splendor too opulent even in its gentle shadings then the pensive
look of firelizard allows. Ashes dust across aristocratic muzzle, shading down headknobs
and brushing against rounded neckridges and spreading out to accent his forelegs.
Otherworldliness contributes to his tail, winding up and flowing upon his haunches,
feather-touches of cornflower lending a certain wiseness to his being: A certain feeling,
a certain emotion. A certain mind.
Atuarre has arrived.
Atuarre arrives.
Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling wobbles on his still unsturdy legs, blinking his tiny eyes as he creels with hunger, emerging from the cell of an egg. One large piece of the shell remains, and the undersized hatchling huddles beside it, attempting to become hidden, blending in with his surroundings- though not well. Baby blues contrast well to the golden sands of the beach that complimented the color of his egg.
Leia takes wing and lands on Anthy's shoulder, nuzzling her. I like you... She looks at the newest hatchling and chirps at Anthy enthusiastically. She jiggles her wings...maybe a suggestion for the meat?
Solan goes home.
Anthy looks towards the eggs and new hatchling with interest, meat wriggling in an automatic fashion as she adjusts to the silence of her own world once more. Tempted to talk, but still...it's unlikely. She risks a small smile towards Sheryn, whom she had seen glance toward her earlier, and then blinks in surprise as the green Leia lands on her shoulder. "H-hello" she stutters in surprise, looking at the hatchlings and then at the green. She wiggles her meat a little more, perhaps to make the perching one happy.
Fynnio notices the two new blues, and yells a congrats to Dallaney. He turns to them, noticing the cute wobbly hatchling, but also the spirit blue, who might not get as much attention. Or will he? Fynnio scoops meat into his pouch, then pouring some out again, a hatchling needs meat. Fynnio sighs. And as a trader, plenty of stories are learn and are yet to be told.
Kaeldra looks over in the brown's direction long enough to see him scooped up, hopefully to be fed and quieted by the young man in whose arms he's now residing. As she turns back, a smile might be seen pulling up the corners up of her lips; an unusual expression on the crochety cook's face. But befoe she's got a chance to look at the new blues, the old blue's Impressing and she's peering to see who it went to. Then, finally, she can turn her attention where she wants to: the newest arrivals. Smile widens as her inquiring gaze is greeted by the Awaiting Spirit hatchling, and almost cheerfully she pulls a slice of cold herdbeast from her sandwhich dinner, holding it forth.
Antlon wakes, suddenly. Had he been dozing? How rude! He notes that the meatroll has completely slipped his grasp and now lies in a spicy heap near one knee. He glances around, trying to scoop the remains into a semblance of order.
Dallaney grins, flipped mark piece landing into her pocket now as 'claw finds its home in little blue's maw. "Ookay." lips split in grimace, hands locking into a cup and fetching her booty away back towards the weyr.
Atuarre runs in, frantically looking around... but, for who? Answer is forthcoming. "Has anyone seen," gasp. "The weyrherder?" she manages to breath out before flopping down in the sand, exhausted.
Dallaney calls Enthusiastic College Freshman blue hatchling closer.
Dallaney disappears suddenly for parts unknown.
Methiah stops crawling around the ground. She puts the wherre on her legs and sits down. She pulls out a piece of paper and a pencil. This story will never finish unless I get a flit. Not watching the meat that sits on her legs, she starsts a story that is about a very cute little flit.
Leia is suddenly called for, obviously, has makes her exit...
Leia goes ::between::
Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling drifts from shell remains - no tumble, or hop like his clutch brothers, gliding down with an faintly pensive style as hatchling pauses at the sands to crouch low to the ground with head peering up, waiting. For what? for whom? Even he does not know yet.
Fynnio has disconnected.
Methiah also decides to but an angel in the story, spitual objects are always good.
Kohath dips his head and snorts coyly from under his claw. He's sneaky, see? Come on, tinyones, Unkie Ko-Ko has goodies over here. Really. No, I wasn't doing anything, K'den. The tip of his tail flicks with concentrated mischief.
Quinta smiles moodily, an odd smile pierced by the stormy downtilt of her eyebrows, puckish glee. She inches inches inches closer, a little inchworm, worming worming worming her way through sand and shards and various other hatching-associated things that might turn one's stomach. She holds out her slimy Something-Meat at the Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling, cooing funky endearments as she shakes it - a) releasing sand, b) releasing the scent or c) all of the above.
Methiah continues to write, looking at the flits every few seconds for descriptions ofthey are doing, and what they look like.
Anthy watches as the new blues make their way through the crowd, continuing to wiggle her meat as she once again is alone. Silence may be the perfectest herald of joy, but it's also lonely. Lock of dark hair is brushed out of her face as she readjusts her position, watching the Spirit Blue Hatchling. Such grace...Anthy is not as lucky.
Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling squeels in terror, eyes flickering wildly about the lake shore, tail flailing and upsetting his balance as the tiny blue attempts to leave the safety of the egg and streak for a nearby shadow. Tail and wings, oversized as they are compared to his tiny body, seem to be constantly getting in the way as he flees from the scene, upsetting his legs as he ends up sprawled in the sand. Oh dear.. oh my.. won't someone comfort a baby blue, so lost and alone?
Sheryn gets the meanie eye from her blue. I'm all the blue you can take, baby. His raspy, male-firelizardly chirp is proof of this, but that doesn't mean that Sheryn won't watch. And watch she does, while the meat in her hand is turned every so often. Peering oddly at various meat stuffs around him, Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling seems to perk up for a moment - the wait is over? Mayhap? But still, one must be careful, you can only choose once. With bejeweled wings tucked around lithe form like a cloak, blue takes a tentitive step forward. Methiah reads a sentence outloud: The spitual object, gleaming with light comes down from the sky, it is called an eangel. The flit hatchling spots the angel and starts to swipe at it. K'den peers suspiciously at his lifemate's knobby head. He knows /something's/ up. Has to be. "What've you got there, Ko?" Overlarge paw is immediately slapped over the meat with a squish. Nothing. Antlon watches lazily, his fingers trailing in the sand lightly as he forgoes the meatroll wreck. His spirit is fine, thanks. He may not have all the answers, but he's happy enough with the ones he's found. He grins, and winks at the hatchlings. See? It's easy enough. Methiah sees that the sentence is good for the story, so she write it down. The piece of meat still just sitting, unwatched on her legs. Kaeldra follows the spirit blue's movements with approval, slowly nodding to herself in silent affirmation. Carefully scooting forward on her haunches to take up open space on the sand and get just that much closer to him, she shakes her slice of herdbeast a little like it was a tunic that needed the wrinkles thrown out of it, and stretches it just that little bit more forward and to the left as well, aiming for a window where two neighbors sit side by side to increase her chances of Being Noticed. Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling scrambles up from his sprawled position in earnest, eyes sweeping the area as a creel, suprisingly loud from his tiny throat, splits through the air in an attempt to gain the attention of.. well, anyone. Or anything. Kohath refocuses his attention on the hatchlings with a welcoming croon. See, perfectly innocent. K'den settles back against his side grudgingly. Mwaha. Heeere, tinyones, his throat vibrates cheerily, paws tented carefully over his bit of meat in a sort of shadowed cave, out of K'den's sight. Anthy watches the spirit blue with eyes veiled in shadows, dark tresses shadowing her face as she watches the first step. A sigh, breaking the silence around her, escapes her lips. Newborn creatures are a joy to watch, especially when one has nothing better to do. She glances around, looking for another likely person to approach...but is unsure whether twice in one day is a good thing to chance. Atuarre is flopped down in the sand, apparently asleep... or at least, not too focused. Beltpouch is flapping open, most of its contents lost in her run, though a single piece of wherry jerky is left, Atuarre's favorite snackfood. Methiah looks up from her writting again and realizes that the Wobbley blue needs some comfort. She puts dow the paper and inches toward the flit, holding out her fresh wherry for him to take. K'den frowns at the calf hatchling. "Oh come on, /someone's/ gotta feed him..." It's the Healer thing. "Hey, someone toss a bit to that fellow," he raises his voice slightly, feeling mildly bad. Just don't make /him/ do it. Methiah pulls off a piece of wherry and tosses it toward the little calf, hoping that he'll see who threw it. "Little guy, theere's meat in from of you. Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling pauses with another hop forward, then a hop back..indescisive, but confident in the fact that an answer will soon present it's self. Little cobalt head tilts faintly to the side with a unassumiing chirp - will anyone seek him out? He's waited so long. Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling stumbles in one direction, turning on a heel and going in another, blinded by hunger and fury at his helpless situation. Struggling to remove the tail from under his claws, his wings reach futilely towards the sky in an attempt at flight- not achieved, due to the fact that his wings haven't entirely dried. But they do manage to get him somewhat where he needs to go- right to a rather /large/ and comforting shadow. Or, /very/ large. Quinta inchworms tentatively backward, tangling with her fuzzyblanket and the limbs of other hatching-attendees. She something-meat is given a slimy shake, sliming slimy slime onto the ground beneath it, a little dark jerky-or-other slick with some (slimy) substance. Then she inchworms forward again: not that it would make much difference, such a small unwieldy motion. She seeks the Awaiting Spirit out, holding her slimy stuff out at arm's length, wreathed with the same odd smile, changing from diabolical to innocent at a moment's whim. Methiah sees that so meany people are paying attiontionto the calf she redirects her attention to the Spiritual blue. She tears off a huge piece and puts it right in front of him. Then she whispers just loud enought for the flit to hear her, "You can eat the meat, it's for you." Then she adds, "You know, I am spirtual too. I think that we would make a great pair. Spirituality is my thing. Anthy is in no position to seek anyone out, now with her shy nature...but perhaps she could make an exception. She's made one exception this hatching, to gain the meat that she holds out and wiggles. And waggles, of course. She watches as the Wobbly Blue Hathcling wanders over to apparently inspect something, before returning her attention to the Spiritual one and focusing her gaze on his searching form. Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling traces his steps to pause at the slime slickened object and peer at it oddly - destiny calls int he strangest forms, perhaps. Little blue pauses to peer around meat and up at human as well - there is more, I assume? High-pitched creels turn to warbling croons as Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling wobbles towards Quinta. Kohath is large, all right. He's a big large lump of trouble if you ask his rider. Smallish brown takes his bit of meat in the tip of his too-large jaws and waggles it like he's seen K'den do on other ocassions. "Hey, cut that out - give me that!" K'den protests, trying to crawl over his head to reach it. Antlon drifts a little dreamily, his grin just /wide/. Firelizard or no, smart or not, he's just happy. The meatroll is recovered in pieces, slowly. "They sure seem to know who they want," he murmurs. "I guess that's a good sign." Methiah decides to go back to her writing about a little blue wobbly one. She writes about how the little one is so cute, but can't seem to make up his mind. Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling pays K'den no attention, as the wriggling meat catches his eye, stumbling clumsily over tail and claw to reach for it. Delicious aroma wafts towards his eagerly gaping maw, snatching up the meat in a hurry. But as eyes turn towards Kohath, the blue is puzzled, for a moment. What to do? Such a dilemma. Sheryn looks over to Quinta, and smiles, "There you go, congrats!" she tells the girl, and grins, resting back. A look to the eggs, curious. Quinta quirks the grin again, more saccharine this time, sickeningly saccharine, as her hand inchworms forward, itching to get this slimy slime off. She gently scoops up the little blue hatchling, happy as a kitten, a particularly happy kitten, though with the slight danger of one which hasn't learned just yet to sheath its claws. Quinta calls Awaiting Spirit Blue Hatchling closer. Atuarre lays, passively watching the sky. Nope, she's not gonna move, not her. 'less the Weyrherder comes along, that is. Quinta goes home. K'den grabs for the meat at about the same time, muttering as it's snatched away a moment too soon. Kohath turns and slurps the side of his face cheerfully. There, see, I brought him here, now all you have to do is feed him. So helpful... Methiah throws a piece of wherry toward The wobbly calf. She pulls out a whole nother piece, just waiting for a lit to come eat it, she aint gonna do nthing with it. Deepening Plot Egg wriggles impatiently - enough with this talk, this one wants out, explore! There's got to be more to this story, twists and turns to take. Anthy watches as the blues apparently make their choices, and Anthy shivers unconsciously. The joy of hatchings is something that always catches her attention, within the silence surrounding her. The merest whisper of "Congratulations" floats on a breath of wind towards Quinta, eyes watching the other blue to see what will solve his dilemma. Another rocking egg is spotted out of the corner of her eye, but she's more interested in the plight of the blue at this moment. Meat stops wiggling, as she just...watches. Atuarre sits up, having heard a footstep nearby. Wherry jerky is forgotten, left in the dangling beltpouch. "Ooh... I hurt..." she whines, wincing at the ache in her legs. "'least they coulda done was get me a runner..." she complains, glancing around. "Whoa!" she begins in surprise. "What's with all the people?" Sheryn looks at the plotting egg, and watches curiously. Chewy watches it as well, carefully, waiting, waiting... An eye is cast to the other blue, and she observes its progress, too. K'den grumbles. "This is coming out of /your/ dinner," he threatens. As if a meatroll makes a whole lot of difference to a dragon's appetite. It makes quite a bit of difference to a firelizard, though, and the healer in him can't just hoard it like... stop /looking/ at me! Yeesh. He digs in his pocket for the spicy roll he'd been saving as a treat for later. Deepening Plot Egg twitches, twirling in it's spot, well someone's gotta keep this story moving, cracks vein and indeed..the plot thickens. Deepening Plot Egg explodes, leaving behind scattered shards...and Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling! Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling Spirals of lazy blue swirl around clowds of cottony white, stretched across the hide that stretches over the back of this little blue in small patches, while over hips green mixes with the blue, a different world almost glympsed. Legs mix brown muddied with the blue, a hint of mist hanging over such colors, making it all unclear, where as sliding up neck and delicate little muzzle, blue is pure, fully blue, with no other impurities. Tail gives hints of twilight evenings, violet sneaking in against the blue. Wings, however, are a mix, a hint of rainbows and laxidaisal afternoons, decorated in dreamy beauty. Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling turns large eyes imploringly upwards, latching on K'den, and of course, that simply /lovely/ spicy roll. After reaching out carefully for the food, his eyes turn upwards even more- meeting the riders. There now. Isn't that /just/ what you wanted? Of course. High-pitched creels turn to warbling croons as Timid and Wobbly Calf Blue Hatchling wobbles towards K'den. Methiah 's eyes dart toward the Evvisioned Hatchiling. I think that I am going to put a unknown world in my story. A flit travels to a unknown world where he sees lots of different colors and rainbows. Antlon whistles under his breath as the little worldly blue appears. He's seen the world, and now it's reflected in the lizard that appears. "Beautiful," he breathes. Sheryn looks up at K'den and grins up at the rider, "Congrats!" she calls to him, before gaze looks over to the worldly blue. An imploring look to Chewy, but he stands fast. Kaeldra looks over to the calf blue, only to wrinkle her nose again as she sees that one apparently close to choosing as well. She looks back to a rocking egg in time to see the cracks appear, and she finds herself holding her breath -- no wait, that's silly; and she lets it out slowly. But in the next moment her eyes widen happily as the Envisioned Worlds blue peeps out -- my, there's no lack of blues in the fire-lizard clutches here, though they seem almost scarce in the dragon ones -- and she moves her herdbeast slice from left hand to right, holding it out in a new spot where maybe this time it'll be seen. Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling fairly romps from the egg, breaking through the kicked up dust of sand particals in a flurry - here, there! Brave new world, and never again will he see such a day, so he must sieze it! Yes.. K'den /sighs/ and sits down again on Kohath's forearm, letting the hatchling crawl up onto his lap as he tugs on the end of the meatroll with tenacious teeth. He didn't need this... but... well, shardit, he's /cute/. Brownrider forces an annoyed expression. "He's /your/ responsibility." Kohath doesn't seem to mind. He croons, the tip of his tongue emerging to slurp the tinyone experimentally. Plaid n' Denim Farm Clothes Egg finally begins its rocking dance, moving back and forth as it creates a tiny wallow in the sand. Cracks run along the surface, a shudder sweeping across the colors- this one's time has come, as the others have. Behold, as an entrance is made! Plaid to plaid, denim to denim- er, ashes and dust? Ash flares as a section of Plaid n' Denim Farm Clothes Egg falls out, revealing a tiny dust-colored tail- meaning Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling! Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling Clumps of chocolately brown ooze over this happy-go-lucky firelizard, combining with tan swirls to create a mud-like color near his oversized head. The dirty tones gloop over the hide, growing lighter on the stubby tail and limbs to form dusty tones. Mud that has dried on the supple hide of a happy little piglet? A dusting of khaki spreads over his wings, flaps tinged with walnut shade and mahogany specks. Blunt nose sniffs scents of the hair and snorts as a pair of heavy-lidded eyes peer in pleased activeness out at the world. Stubby legs are anointed with claw colors, blunt claws tipped with hazel. Anthy lets another soft "Congratulations" drift, this time towards K'den as the blue seems to bond with him. Newly hatched blue isn't spotted for a few long moments, eyes straying out across the inviting water of the lake. Then her eyes wander to the crowd, falling finally on the blue that hatched. Meat wriggles once more, slowly at first, and eyes turn to the brown that hatched as well. So many hatchlings, so many new lives to watch. Atuarre isn't about to say carpe diem for /anything/. She's too tired to /move/ even a finger! Barely propping herself up with both hands, she passively watches the emergence of the blue, eyes uninterested. What a boring plotline... she thinks, stifling a yawn. Sheryn blinks at the brown that enters the world from the plaid egg. She looks to Chewy and gains permission, so her hand moves forward to offer to the happy-going-lucky brown, and smiles. Or brown is nice, too. Antlon's gaze is torn betwixt that Worldly little Blue and the scamp of a brown as it worms from the egg. Oh, dear. He sighs, and fingers the shreds of meatroll in his hand. Hope it's enough, or at least tempting.... Carpe Diem! Sieze the day! Full power all forward engines! Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling is the true idealist, making his surroundings /all/ his dreams, never seeing the bad. Simply the hidden good in all, helpel mix of a blue tumbles forward, dashing clumsily through the terrian of the crowd, adventuring. Kohath's Problem cheeps happily. He has a meatroll and a big brown snuggly pillow, that's all that matters right now. Yum. Atuarre is a pessimist, thinking only of the darkness in life. For example, the punishment perhaps awaiting her at the Hall if she doesn't find the weyrherder. But she's too /tired/. Nope, Carpe Diem is the furthest thing from her mind. Methiah says outloud, "This flit in my story enters the sacred land, with trees of wherry meat,and skies of rainbow. This world is perfect for the flit." Naeda has arrived. Naeda arrives. Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling rolls jovially from the shards of his old entrapment, as life is born anew and happy-go-lucky. Refusing to jump up the sand, rather, the brown decides to roll about the golden warm grains, as they adorn themselves to his flank and wingsails. Not much attention is given to the humans- too much fun, having fun, it seems. What could they offer that would be of more use to him? Methiah takes a break from creating the perfect story and wriggles her meat a little. Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling eyes his rather chubby clutchmate, hopping over to peer at him speculatively - the aliens of these native lands are getting stranger and stranger. But then adventurous blue pauses with a flippant chirp towards the crowd - then again, these locals don't look too bad. Rolling in the sand is fun, Antlon admits silently. In fact, if he weren't the size of a herdbeast, he'd join the little fella. He chuckles, and digs his toes into the warm sand, sending little sprays of his own. See? Meatroll is still available in the dining car... Methiah looks at all the little flits wondering which should be in her story.... She chooses the Envisioned Hatchling. The world is flawless and fits him perfectly. Atuarre attempts to get up, wherry falling out of the pouch in the process, before falling down once more. Uh, nope, not gonna get up. Not tonight. Not for a while, at least. Anthy watches as the brown rolls from the shards of his egg, broken shards looked at more than hatchling at first. Ah, to be broken free and to be so happy-go-lucky! The hatchling is examined then with emerald eyes that glitter with energy that longs to be set free. Oh, to be able to break free from the shell that confines her...but it's hopeless for her, she believes. Kohath's Problem squeaks out a burp, a large meatroll-shaped lump residing in his belly. more than one pig out here. He burrows under a fold of K'den's tunic - much tot he brownrider's chagrin - and snuggles to sleep, the end of his tail dangling. Methiah takes the wherry in one hand and pulls the meat apart, creating a little meat, flit shaped piece. She swings it around in the air, as if it was flying, trying to attract the flit. Then all of a sudden she realizes that the shape doesn't look like a flit all that much.... It was a try. Naeda sweeps in, a leftover from the trains, feet pattering cheerily and looking to find a quiet place. Spotting the group, minecrafter scoots over with head craned to /see/. "Oo." A giggle escapes her as blonde hair bounces, finger straying shyly forward; wandering into the small pouch by her side indeed to retrieve her fishroll lunch. Kaeldra has disconnected. Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling dances merrily, light on his toes is he, attention flickering between the various creatures that demand his attention. Whuffling in one direction, turning on a tail in another, the light glints off the dull mud colors adorning his flank and wings, his blunt nose sniffing out the suculent smells of the air- what draws him near? What makes him stray? What will catch his fancy? Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling tromps valiently through the jungle of feet and meat offerings riddling the beach, bravado of blue wavering though as hunger grows - there is going to be a nice reward at the end of this adventure, right? Methiah starts to make little chirring nioses and things to go along with her flit.(meat). She then gives up and returns to the story that the envisioned little one is in. The Plot thickens as he meets a female flit in this country. Bayou dozes off... Atuarre flops down once more, trapping the wherry jerky under one arm. "Argh!" is the only sound to escape her lips, frustration and pain leaking out from her. Bayou wakes up from his nap. Antlon is fancy-free, but could be persuaded to catch one or two. He grins at the happy little piglet and digs into the sand once more, piling it in a small heap. Things are afoot. He moves the meatroll close to himself, and digs deeper, working into the damper sand below. Anthy flicks her eyes between brown and blue...no, she cannot accompany the brown to feats of happiness, for how can a lonely girl be a suitable companion? A sigh escapes her lips, her entire person looking a bit downtrodden as her eyes lift to watch the blue a little. Meat wiggling slightly, slowly, almost like a toy winding down as her eyes watch the blue. Adventure? Anthy isn't the adventurous type, really...but change is sometimes good. Methiah throws the bad creation in a random area. Anyone of the flits can take this meat. Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling is all the adventure you might need in life, sister. He makes life /the/ adventure! Cobalt youth twists in spot, catching that sigh with a perk in his looks - what mournful wind dares enter his adventure? Hatchling hops afew steps up to Anthy with a chirp, let me show you the wonderes I've seen.. Bayou dozes off... High-pitched creels turn to warbling croons as Envisioned Worlds Blue Hatchling wobbles towards Anthy. Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling dances over by one, tripping, and making the most of it, as he rolls forward in a somursault and snatches the meat from the hands of a girl. A nudge to her knee, to show his appreciation, and he's off again once more. His wings dry rapidly, and with each step he gains more flight, though without the temptation of flying off- most certainly /not/, when all he needs is right here? Eyes sweep the crowd, spotting a nice little 'mountain' that could serve his purpose.. but more inspection must be done. Bayou wakes up from his nap. Naeda giggles again behind her palm in sheer nervousness towards the littling wanderer lizards. Active fingers twitch at tunic, stop, then again start their compulsive movement, the fishroll just slightly trembly in her grip, and vaguely waved in the brown ones direction, promptly zipping back again as she notices his fixed interest in something..else it seems. No matter, girl concentrates on other bit players, the people, on the beach. Mountains can be made from molehills, and mountains are good launching points. Antlon grins as the little brown makes his way closer, and piles more sand on, shaping it. See? Not all Weyrs are big and made for dragons. This one is just piglet-sized. Try it out. OOC: Bryn says, "the last two of my eggs are gonna be hatched at a later date, y'all. :) gettin' alittle late n' scatter brained for me." Atuarre is sprawled, exhausted, on the ground, form totally stretched out. Rising from the sand, is resembles a hill, true. A hill hiding a faerie hill of food beneath one arm. Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling circles the prospective hideout and its foreman, gazing at the two curiously, dancing into his reach and out. A game, he sees it as, flitting closer, then farther, close enough to touch, and much out of reach. Eyes twinkle mischeviously, with no intention of being caught against his will- though maybe his will is not what it seems. Care to play, builder of weyrs? Methiah throws her remaining meat oward Little Piglet. "There you go." Antlon does, and obliges, building a little ramp to the top. There. A good launching point for little wings to take to the air, and soon a cozy weyr for curling up and catching naps between rolls in the sand. "Help yourself," he says with a lopsided grin. "It's sturdy enough." Methiah goes home. Bryn goes home. Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling turns his head to inspect first one wing, then another, and finds they are dry enough to his tastes- hopping merrily, he scurries up the sandy ramp and spreads his wings, pushing off against the loose sand and soaring about in a circle. This fun is tiring, as he slowly decends to perch upon his weyrbuilder's shoulder, tail entwined protectivly with his neck. Eyes search out his, to make the bond complete. Build weyrs for me? Please? Anthy calls Mazuko closer. Anthy goes home. A squeel of joy splits through the air as Mud-caked Piglet Brown Hatchling searches through the crowd, finally finding /the/ one. Antlon. Sheryn grins and calls over to Antlon, "Congratulations!" She smiles and looks curiously at the last three eggs. What do they hold? Atuarre has disconnected. Arula * peeks to everyone that is left. You all did /great/, and it was a tough time deciding. :) As for the other three eggs, apologies go out- one of the owners needed to log off, while the other decided to hatch them later. :) OOC: Sheryn grins and nods. Thanks, Arula! Antlon grins, and retrieves the meatroll, poking it at the tiny maw. "There you are," he says with a chuckle. "And back at home, there's lots of food and ledges to fly off." He laughs as the little brown cheeps smugly, and flicks his wings, Arula curls up daintily around a nearby foot and dozes off.