08.Aug.19, 08:01 AM
It’s time. L’gan looked up from where he was helping in the infirmary--why waste the skills of a healer just waiting around for a week--and frowned slightly. His normally bubbly green sounded so upset. She loved babies--dragon, human, or beast alike--and she had been upset to hear about the touching. She’d been apprehensive about this Hatching the whole week, her tail constantly flicking in irritation. Alright, love. Tell them we’ll be right there.
He apologized and called over someone else to finish tending the patient, going to wash up and quadruple-check his kit. He’d already arranged for bandages to be brought to the sands, baskets placed just outside in the hall if Thallyath wouldn’t let them be brought in until the hatching began. Large enough for dragonets and small enough for candidates, but he hoped desperately they wouldn’t need either. He had Semath ask a weyrling to fetch water and soapsand from the kitchens for washing hands and asked one of the helpers in the infirmary to bring distilled alcohol for cleaning wounds; Faranth’s Egg, please let them not need any of this, he thought. Not for this hatching.
Making his way to the hatching grounds he found that he was among the first arrivals. A few candidates were already here, though one or two looked green around the gills at the prospect. He gave them a reassuring smile and set his kit down. “All right there?” He gently asked one of the young men who had come to stand near the healers; available but not actively standing.
He was heartened to see Mylorah attempt to cheer up her friends, excited despite the touching. All too aware how perceptions could affect outcomes, he did his best to project confidence and reassurance. L’gan could feel Semath wanting to hum as well to welcome the babies, but she waited for cues from the other dragons assembling, not wanting to upset Thallyath further. They settled in to wait and he sent up another silent prayer for a smooth hatching.
He apologized and called over someone else to finish tending the patient, going to wash up and quadruple-check his kit. He’d already arranged for bandages to be brought to the sands, baskets placed just outside in the hall if Thallyath wouldn’t let them be brought in until the hatching began. Large enough for dragonets and small enough for candidates, but he hoped desperately they wouldn’t need either. He had Semath ask a weyrling to fetch water and soapsand from the kitchens for washing hands and asked one of the helpers in the infirmary to bring distilled alcohol for cleaning wounds; Faranth’s Egg, please let them not need any of this, he thought. Not for this hatching.
Making his way to the hatching grounds he found that he was among the first arrivals. A few candidates were already here, though one or two looked green around the gills at the prospect. He gave them a reassuring smile and set his kit down. “All right there?” He gently asked one of the young men who had come to stand near the healers; available but not actively standing.
He was heartened to see Mylorah attempt to cheer up her friends, excited despite the touching. All too aware how perceptions could affect outcomes, he did his best to project confidence and reassurance. L’gan could feel Semath wanting to hum as well to welcome the babies, but she waited for cues from the other dragons assembling, not wanting to upset Thallyath further. They settled in to wait and he sent up another silent prayer for a smooth hatching.