[G] [C] 734.01.01 | Of Drunks and Dragonets [Hatching!]

From his deep slumber, Armath's mind did not fully register Grith's screaming voice except as a nightmarish siren song that he'd sooner forget. Whatever she wanted, it could wait. It wasn't until Caymath's businesslike call that his eyes shot open and his head abruptly slid across his hollow to peer through his rider's window. M'din! Hatching! Up! He could see in the rumpled sheets that his bonded had taken Peorray home after last night's festivities, and while he assumed neither was in ideal shape for an early morning Hatching, the gold Candidate was certainly more alert than her new Weyrmate About fucking time, he muttered as he surveyed the recently coupled human pair, before adding with a snort, Literally. Despite his appreciation for his own brand of humor, in a fit of rare professionalism he respectfully responded to Caymath, I'll get him up and moving in no time. We'll be there soon. With a flick of his tail, he began tapping at the window, feeling far more sympathetic for Peorray's probable hangover than M'din's. If his rider had been alone, the projected orders and nonstop knocking would have been far more unpleasant. Although, based on his window-peeping, Peorray seemed as clear-eyed and healthy as a babe.

M'din rolled over with a smile at his dragon's brusque wake-up call, thinking for a moment that he must certainly be dreaming: he recalled hazy visions of a party last night, kisses, his friends, Peorray, dancing, Peorray, drinking, music, laughter, Peorray, a Hatching, Peorray, golden eggs, a pain in his side, Peorray... Peorray! He sat bolt upright, half relieved that the beautiful brunette in his bed him was a tangible reality, and half terrified at their mutual late start to the Hatching. It only partially dawned on the bearded man that months of flirtation, courtship, and awkward dates their relationship finally culminated in something beautiful, something that he'd been sheepishly dreaming about for a long time. He sat for a peaceful moment, grinning like a fool at her form, but as much as he wanted to continue admiring her gorgeous face (among other things), his duties as a Weyrlingmaster's Assistant beckoned and he had no intention of disappointing Jayedi. J'di, he corrected. She is a tough nugget and she will flay me if I call her anything but J'di.

J'di wants you to keep a roster of the Candidates so grab some paper. Oh, and we get to swing by the Candidate Barracks to wake up the stragglers, Armath told M'din through the window, delighted at any opportunity to scream at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, yes! The eggs! We have to wake the Candidates!" he responded to Peorray hoarsely. M'din rolled out of bed, pecked her on the lips with a soft kiss, and began rummaging through the piles of clothing on his floor for a suitable Hatching Day outfit. As soon as he stood, the pounding headache between his ears revealed itself. Ugh, Turn's End is the best and worst thing in the world, he thought with a tight-lipped grimace. Fishing beneath his bedroom shelves, he grabbed ink, a scroll, and a quill to keep track of the Candidates. Before leaving, he rushed back to Peorray for another kiss, murmuring, "I'll see you on the Sands. You'll do wonderfully." With a final joyful smile, he weaved a crooked path outside.

Crawling atop Armath, the brownrider shoved his wares into a leather satchel, swinging it over his beefy shoulder as his bonded leapt into flight. They ascended quickly, air rushing past his dizzy head uncomfortably, as Armath veered to the Candidate Barracks to blare, WHAT'S THE STORY MORNING GLORIES? IT'S TIME FOR A HATCHING! UP UP UP! GET TO THE SANDS, SLOW POKES! M'din, whose brain currently sloshed like a pile of mush, felt a great deal of sympathy for the slow-moving Candidates on the receiving end Armath's brutal pre-dawn commands. The brown repeated his alarming process twice more, circling overhead like an obnoxious scavenger bird before turning to their final destination after those beneath him were sufficiently irate (and awake, by proxy).

Finally arriving at the Sands, M'din wondered if he shouldn't have swung by the Dining Hall for breakfast first; although, he probably couldn't keep it down if his churning stomach was any indicator. Armath gave two sweeping bows to the gold clutchmothers as they approached, not trusting himself to speak directly to any of his beloved golds without an embarrassing stutter, while M'din blearily waved to the Candidates and gathered riders. He set up shop beside J'di, sitting on the edges of the Sands, pulling out his ink and scrolls, and telling her wearily, "Morning, ma'am. This is a good way to start the year off, huh?"