Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
17.Mar.12, 09:56 PM
Breccan's eyes were lingering on the one hatchling that didn't seem disposed to choosing, though it seemed him -or her?- was content enough to stick by one Candidate's side. Odd behavior, that, or so she supposed. This being her first Hatching, she was hardly an expert on dragon-hatchling behavior. It seemed to be making noise, but she was far enough down that its sound was lost in the general hum of hundreds of people talking in the stands. She had no idea what those sounds could mean, anyway; it was probably better she didn't dwell on trying to translate every growl or squeal.
Two Eggs broke abruptly, distracting her, and leaving two dragonets who looked like they hadn't the slightest idea what they were supposed to do now. One of them eventually moved quietly off, and when a girl moved forward to pair with her, she had to conclude another dragonet was gone, and hadn't so much as looked at her. She fought down any sense of disappointment; two Impressions was hardly significant. She could not expect to Impress first, after all, and second was just as presumptuous. Instead of following the unbonded dragonling, she watched the other one, the one paired with the girl, for long enough to be sure it, too, was a Green. Well, Greens were the most populous of dragon colors. Most of them would probably Green, when sand and dark were removed.
The hatchling who had been longest on the Sands had moved towards Lymsleia, paying her an awful lot of attention. Breccan was nearly ready to start clapping for her friend, pleased she'd Impressed, when she saw the young creature move steadily onward. Disappointment was all over the girl's face; Breccan leaned forward enough to shoot her a sympathetic look. Even if she hadn't been sure she wanted to Impress, now she was feeling her own fear keenly, a knife in her belly.
A sudden, stumbling movement caught her eye, and she watched one of the recently-hatched dragons fumble its way towards her. Her belly tightened, drew inward; she had never known such an intensity of hope. A bark was all the warning she had before she was dragged abruptly downwards by claws caught in her robe. There was no warning, only an odd clarity as she watched the dragon's claw move unsteadily upwards, the movement deceptively tender as it stroked her face. Two lines of fire opened, and she held still with all that was in her, jaws clenched against the shocking pain. There was a particular intensity of pain that was reserved for facial injuries, and an atavisitic, protective response that wanted her to shove the dragon away. Some lesson had drilled into her not to touch the dragonets, and she could do nothing but clutch her hands together, listening to the dragonet's shocked squeal as it tumbled away from her. As it backed away, a sudden rainbow alerted her that it had Chosen, after all, and a glance sideways identified the lucky Candidate as Echlerov. Almost numb, she clapped her hands for a moment or two, waited until light identified the dragon as a fine Blue.
Then it was down to business. Some awful part of her mind though perhaps the dragonet had wanted her, until it had gotten closer, seen what she was, and then it had clawed across her face instead, shocked by what it had found. She had to push that thought away. He could not have wanted her, and it remained yet to be seen if any of them did. There was still time. Matter-of-factly, she ripped a long piece from her torn robe, binding the cut above her eyebrow tightly, more to keep blood out of her eyes than because the slash needed tending. An anxious Healer was moving her way; she waved him off coolly. She was fine. There was nothing to do about the cut on her cheek, so she allowed it to stream blood onto her white Robes, doubtless ruining them. Ah, well. No one would be wearing these shredded, bloodied things to any other Hatching. She probably looked a fright, she reflected, arming what blood she could off of her face. Hopefully dragons weren't scared away too easily.
It seemed, in the meantime, that the steady dragon had finally Chosen, and was wandering towards the lights. Another Blue, with a man in tow. Two Greens with girls, two boys with Blues; it was so symmetrical. Some part of her found that pleasing, and she ignored the throbbing pains in her face, returning her attention to the Eggs. Unfortunately, they gave her little to focus on. For nearly an hour, by her reckoning, nothing happened. She let her mind drift, her eyes returning again and again to those Eggs that she'd Touched. And then, a violent shriek interrupted the lazy calm of her thoughts, and a big hatchling shrieked displeasure with the world. Snarling and stumbling, he lurched roaring, and then leaped atop a Candidate. Breccan was shocked by the hatchling's savagry, but didn't realize she knew who the ravaged Candidate was until the hatchling leaped at a second girl. Then something about the small size and long dark hair clued her in: it was Indivara.
She moved towards the girl quickly, but the other girl who'd been attacked reached her first. The stranger was behaving competently enough, and a pair of Healers soon swept Indivara away. She refused any offers of numbweed for herself, and simply returned to her place, feeling useless. Lymsleia was tending to a man, doubtless another casualty of the angry hatchling, but she hadn't managed to do anything that did anyone any good. Some kind of Healer she was. She really just had to pray she'd Impress; her incompetency in her craft had just been displayed to anyone. A bright blush climbed up her face, and she burned with shame. It didn't occur to her that probably no one had noticed in all the chaos, much less even recognized her as a healer, and it wouldn't have mattered if it had. She should have done something for the bright little Weyrbrat she'd gotten to enjoy once, or at least for the man-Candidate. Instead, she'd done nothing.
She stared resolutely at her feet, sneaking glances she couldn't help up through her lashes. The Egg she'd Touched had Hatched, a second Hatchling stalking snootily through the Candidates doubtless from that shell. She regarded it with faint distaste. More interesting was the hatchling who'd suddenly leaped up to seize a Candidate and drag him towards the big one who'd done such damage; Impression was abruptly made. The boy's voice, authoritative even so early, boomed through the Sands, and the hatchling positively cowered. As had been her habit, she watched the hatchling until she could determine it was a Bronze, a little appalled. That could lead the Weyr one day?
She was more interested in the determined hatchling who'd removed the dangerous Bronze from the Sands, and watched that one, ignoring the one from the Egg she'd Touched. A third hatched, but strutted only a moment before hiding from the determined one she was admiring. She found that one uninteresting as well, and continued to track the movements of the Fire In My Mouth hatchling avidly.
Two Eggs broke abruptly, distracting her, and leaving two dragonets who looked like they hadn't the slightest idea what they were supposed to do now. One of them eventually moved quietly off, and when a girl moved forward to pair with her, she had to conclude another dragonet was gone, and hadn't so much as looked at her. She fought down any sense of disappointment; two Impressions was hardly significant. She could not expect to Impress first, after all, and second was just as presumptuous. Instead of following the unbonded dragonling, she watched the other one, the one paired with the girl, for long enough to be sure it, too, was a Green. Well, Greens were the most populous of dragon colors. Most of them would probably Green, when sand and dark were removed.
The hatchling who had been longest on the Sands had moved towards Lymsleia, paying her an awful lot of attention. Breccan was nearly ready to start clapping for her friend, pleased she'd Impressed, when she saw the young creature move steadily onward. Disappointment was all over the girl's face; Breccan leaned forward enough to shoot her a sympathetic look. Even if she hadn't been sure she wanted to Impress, now she was feeling her own fear keenly, a knife in her belly.
A sudden, stumbling movement caught her eye, and she watched one of the recently-hatched dragons fumble its way towards her. Her belly tightened, drew inward; she had never known such an intensity of hope. A bark was all the warning she had before she was dragged abruptly downwards by claws caught in her robe. There was no warning, only an odd clarity as she watched the dragon's claw move unsteadily upwards, the movement deceptively tender as it stroked her face. Two lines of fire opened, and she held still with all that was in her, jaws clenched against the shocking pain. There was a particular intensity of pain that was reserved for facial injuries, and an atavisitic, protective response that wanted her to shove the dragon away. Some lesson had drilled into her not to touch the dragonets, and she could do nothing but clutch her hands together, listening to the dragonet's shocked squeal as it tumbled away from her. As it backed away, a sudden rainbow alerted her that it had Chosen, after all, and a glance sideways identified the lucky Candidate as Echlerov. Almost numb, she clapped her hands for a moment or two, waited until light identified the dragon as a fine Blue.
Then it was down to business. Some awful part of her mind though perhaps the dragonet had wanted her, until it had gotten closer, seen what she was, and then it had clawed across her face instead, shocked by what it had found. She had to push that thought away. He could not have wanted her, and it remained yet to be seen if any of them did. There was still time. Matter-of-factly, she ripped a long piece from her torn robe, binding the cut above her eyebrow tightly, more to keep blood out of her eyes than because the slash needed tending. An anxious Healer was moving her way; she waved him off coolly. She was fine. There was nothing to do about the cut on her cheek, so she allowed it to stream blood onto her white Robes, doubtless ruining them. Ah, well. No one would be wearing these shredded, bloodied things to any other Hatching. She probably looked a fright, she reflected, arming what blood she could off of her face. Hopefully dragons weren't scared away too easily.
It seemed, in the meantime, that the steady dragon had finally Chosen, and was wandering towards the lights. Another Blue, with a man in tow. Two Greens with girls, two boys with Blues; it was so symmetrical. Some part of her found that pleasing, and she ignored the throbbing pains in her face, returning her attention to the Eggs. Unfortunately, they gave her little to focus on. For nearly an hour, by her reckoning, nothing happened. She let her mind drift, her eyes returning again and again to those Eggs that she'd Touched. And then, a violent shriek interrupted the lazy calm of her thoughts, and a big hatchling shrieked displeasure with the world. Snarling and stumbling, he lurched roaring, and then leaped atop a Candidate. Breccan was shocked by the hatchling's savagry, but didn't realize she knew who the ravaged Candidate was until the hatchling leaped at a second girl. Then something about the small size and long dark hair clued her in: it was Indivara.
She moved towards the girl quickly, but the other girl who'd been attacked reached her first. The stranger was behaving competently enough, and a pair of Healers soon swept Indivara away. She refused any offers of numbweed for herself, and simply returned to her place, feeling useless. Lymsleia was tending to a man, doubtless another casualty of the angry hatchling, but she hadn't managed to do anything that did anyone any good. Some kind of Healer she was. She really just had to pray she'd Impress; her incompetency in her craft had just been displayed to anyone. A bright blush climbed up her face, and she burned with shame. It didn't occur to her that probably no one had noticed in all the chaos, much less even recognized her as a healer, and it wouldn't have mattered if it had. She should have done something for the bright little Weyrbrat she'd gotten to enjoy once, or at least for the man-Candidate. Instead, she'd done nothing.
She stared resolutely at her feet, sneaking glances she couldn't help up through her lashes. The Egg she'd Touched had Hatched, a second Hatchling stalking snootily through the Candidates doubtless from that shell. She regarded it with faint distaste. More interesting was the hatchling who'd suddenly leaped up to seize a Candidate and drag him towards the big one who'd done such damage; Impression was abruptly made. The boy's voice, authoritative even so early, boomed through the Sands, and the hatchling positively cowered. As had been her habit, she watched the hatchling until she could determine it was a Bronze, a little appalled. That could lead the Weyr one day?
She was more interested in the determined hatchling who'd removed the dangerous Bronze from the Sands, and watched that one, ignoring the one from the Egg she'd Touched. A third hatched, but strutted only a moment before hiding from the determined one she was admiring. She found that one uninteresting as well, and continued to track the movements of the Fire In My Mouth hatchling avidly.
