[G] [P] [EVENT] 734.09.09 | Carpe Diem

With a yawn Firah itched the sides of his head as he forced himself up out of the chair he'd been resting in. The Touching day candidate round up felt familiar by now, though he didn't participate in exuding nervous feelings or moving around anxiously as they waited. In fact he was relatively calm. Days ago he had decided to commit himself to going through with Standing for Aradissicath's clutch and while it was true that he didn't necessarily want to Impress, the Beastcrafter did want to see the little Dragons at least one more time. Obviously he'd sat through and completed all the requirements he needed to do before he was allowed to even attend the Touching... but Firah hadn't determined whether he'd actually opt out or not until recently. He wouldn't admit it but he actually liked Dragons, it was the Dragonriding pairs that he disliked. Once the human element was added into the mix they became part of the problem. Truthfully in a little corner tucked away in the back of his brain he felt like dragons were akin to canines in some ways, more specifically that there weren't bad Dragons just bad riders.

Crossing his legs at the ankles as he stood in line, Firah hooked his thumbs into his belt loops as he looked around at all of the people who had been assigned to the first group with him. It seemed that there was an even mix of people he knew and those he didn't, he even offered some of the others a wave in greeting. This of course included Sennia, though he wasn't sure she'd noticed it. Some of the Candidates this time around looked so young it was hard to believe that some of them were even old enough to stand. Then again, he was going to be turning twenty-five in about a month and a half while the youngest you could put your lot in as a Candidate was twelve. It was no wonder he felt that way. Damn weyrbrats.

It wasn't long before they were allowed to enter the sands and as soon as Firah stepped into the arena he was immediately enveloped by a blanket of hot air. The sudden temperature difference was enough to bring out small beads of sweat on his forehead. Clearing his throat he wiped his face with the edge of his tunic. He understood that the sands needed to be warmed due for the survival of the eggs but as with the cold, hot temperatures were not on his list of favorite climates to be in. At least he had chosen to wear a sleeveless tunic, the Beastcrafter hated to think how he'd feel if he had been dumb enough to forget how his body reacted to the sands. He made a note to himself to drink a cup or two of water before the hatching.

He had heard the clutch that Aradissicath had laid was large but he had not been expecting it to be this large. Firah marveled at the sheer berth of the eggs' area as he moved toward them, not sure where to start as the possibilities were just about endless. It took him a moment of hesitation to pick out which egg he was going to touch first, his eyes jumping from one egg to the next before settling on a brownish red one that was near by. Firah knew they were on a time schedule and took his time getting to the egg anyway, he wasn't going to touch all forty-one of them after all so he didn't feel like he needed to rush around like some of the others. Upon closer inspection of the egg as he stopped next to it he realized it had silvery-grey puffs scattered around it's circumference.

With one last circle of the egg, Firah bent over slightly and touched the very top of the egg.

He's touching the Romanticist Egg. :)