Egg Gazing

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Fairly tall at a shade under two meters, broad shoulders taper to an overall slim build, well-muscled from Turns of hard work without being overly bulky. Thin white lines of Threadscore scars trace here and there across his otherwise tanned skin. A certain enthusiastic energy seems to follow him about, and his friendly, nearly-always cheerfully mischievous mood is often catching.</div> <div> A lightweight tunic of off-white drapes his frame and hangs partially open at his neck. The fabric seems airy, but sturdy enough to withstand the ocassional firelizard claw. His waist is cinched by a belt of wherhide, dyed a faded purple with age. Plain brown trousers loosely cover his legs, giving him plenty of breathing room in Igen's desert heat, and soft brown boots cover his feet.</div> <div> Fastened proudly to his right shoulder is his Igen Weyr Assistant Weyrlingmaster's knot: a double cord of black and yellow, looped twice with tassle dangling. A copper-rimmed pin is affixed to the top, white-faced and displaying the purple cadeuses of the Healercraft. Thread of silver and ribbon of brown are neatly woven through.</div> <bR> <div> <B>Kirah</B></div> <div> Fine light blonde hair, with soft highlights of honey blonde that glimmer in the sun falls to her shoulders framing her oval youthfully innocent face. Expressive, boldly blue eyes are a beautiful contrast to her pale complexion. Thin blonde eyebrows arch over her eyes, accenting her eyes even more. Nose is small and slightly round, adding to her innocent look. Her lips are a soft pink and of medium fullness. Not remarkably tall in stature she is of average height, and her muscular build betray the hours she has spent working.</div> <div> She wears a sleeveless tunic in a shade of cobalt blue, over a pair a dark gray breeches, belted at the waist with deep blue wehrhide. Her well made boots are black wehrhide, and stretch up to her knees. Tucked in her belt is a small unadorned knife, suitable for all-purpose use.</div> <div> She wears a simple single knot, from a single white cord with a thin tread of gold, marking her as an Igen Weyr Candidate.</div> <bR> <div> <B>Azalan</B></div> <div> Molasses ripples spill over a high forehead and swish across the tops of rounded ears, darkness contrasting with the pale beneath; his skin is fair, even with Rukbat's desert-bright touch. Sea-green eyes settle above a slightly crooked nose which, in turn, rests over his thin, ever-twisting lips. Of just above average height, his frame is thin and wiry: tightly packed muscles cling to his lank skelature. He makes his movements carefully, aware that his inherent clumsiness might give him trouble at any moment.</div> <div> Trim trous of a soft, tan material hang from narrow hips, help up only by a tightly-cinched belt there. Calf-high boots -- obviously long-worn -- provide a place for those trous to tuck away crookedly. His tunic, like the trous, is tucked rather haphazardly beneath his thin belt into said tan-hued trous. Midnight fades into a paler sea-blue shade at the cuffs of the shirt; the sleeves are almost a tad too long.</div> <div> He seems to be in his later teenage years.</div> <div> He's on the look-out for someone in particular to avoid.</div> <bR> <div> <B>Galleries</B></div> <div> Tier upon tier of polished cromcoal-dark granite rises high, each row-hollowed length offering its own vantage of a view, right down to the wooden railing between Sand and seat. Large, smooth-walled, and carven with innumerable rough-hewn, the traceries of quartz reflect the ambient light; no pillers, no impediments obstruct the line of vision to the Sands beyond, except, perhaps, an erring head when the seats are full. The heat is relentless but more subdued, given relief only by the breeze that creeps in through the dragon's opening high overhead, and the fan of wings from the ledges that jut half-moons high overhead.</div> <div> You may 'view' the Sands below, and 'view <object>' to </div> <div>  take a closer look.</div> <div> Perched somewhere up high, you see Mayer, ChuChu, Embyr, and Callow.</div> <div> Kirah is here.</div> <div> From here you can go:</div> <div> Sands                     Stairs                                             </div> <div> Viewing Ledges            Viewing Ledges               </div> <div>                        </div> <bR> <div> Kirah is setted into a seat gazing rather intently out onto the sands, inspecting the eggs, watching the dragons, and perhaps even thinking about that event that won't be so far down the road. She glances quickly over her shoulder at the chirp of the lizard, Oh hello" she chuckles and starts at another human presence, "Hello Cymri." she says softly.</div> <bR> <div> Callow chirples again, this time hopping from her seat and flitting over towards Kirah. Cymri is given a glance, but nothing more.</div> <div> Callow dozes off...</div> <bR> <div> Cymri covers faint surprise at seeing another person egg-gazing with a smile, "Heyla."  She moves closer, dropping into a seat nearby, and leans forward slightly to see the sands better.  "Has anything changed down there?" she asks, even as she looks for herself.</div> <bR> <div> Kirah shakes her head, "Not really." she shrugs, "Nothing that I can see from up here anyway." She's still a bit awestruck about this whole ordeal. Not only will this be the first hatching that she's seen, but she'll be /down there/ a part of it.  She shivers slightly at the though. "Have you ever seen a hatching?" she asks curiously.</div> <bR> <div> ChuChu falls onto his back, stuffed belly rising and falling in time with the bubble at his mouth as he sleeps.</div> <bR> <div> K'den has connected.</div> <div> From Viewing Ledges, Kohath wakes up with a snorted blink, peering about. What'd I miss?</div> <bR> <div> Cymri chuckles softly, glancing over at her fellow candidate, "Actually, I've Stood down there before.  I was a candidate a few Turns back."  She leans back in the chair again, eyes returning to the sands with an indecipherable expression, "It's...very different."</div> <bR> <div> Kirah turns to regard Cymri with a look of awe, "Different?" she can only imagine. "Is it scary?" She seems to think it will be, not that she's afraid of dragons persay, just that she's not really been /that/ close to one before.</div> <bR> <div> Azalan treads in from Hatching Grounds Entrance.</div> <bR> <div> K'den climbs the stairway from the inner Weyr, having popped out to snitch something to munch on from the kitchen. "What's different?" he asks around a mouthful of meatroll, a few crumbs dropping to the floor. On the viewing ledge, Kohath rumbles a cheerful welcome back.</div> <bR> <div> Cymri shakes her head quickly, "No, not scary."  Well, not exactly.  "It's .. exciting.  And they're all very ..well, almost ugly, what with the egg.." She frowns, then shrugs, "Goo, I guess you'd call it. But still, the whole process is just ..." She shuts her eyes, if briefly, then briskly finishes, "Beautiful.  Quite beautiful."  Ugly and beautiful?  Definitely different.  A surprised glance goes to K'den, before Cymri smiles a bit and supplies, "The hatching.  But then, you'd remember that."</div> <bR> <div> Azalan makes his way up to the galleries, a small, leather rucksack slung over one of his shoulders casually. He stumbles slightly as he maneuvers around benches, but he doesn't fall. Faces that seem vaguely familiar -- other candidates -- are seen and shuffles over to sit near, though not next to them. He opens his rucksack and rummages about for something.</div> <bR> <div> K'den grins. "Couldn't very well forget. Trying to make the first-timers nervous, Cymri?" He plops down on a bench and props his feet up on the row before him. "Have they let you down to touch them yet?"</div> <bR> <div> Cymri shakes her head, frowns, shakes her head again.  "I don't know why you think I'd do the first, and no, they've not yet had us touch them." Her gaze flicks to her lap, then back up, "But I admit I'd like the chance.  It's not something you forget, either, to my thinking."  It has less to do with thought, than feeling, actually.  She looks distractedly around the room, smiling at Azalan.</div> <bR> <div> Kirah listens to Cymri's explanation intently, contemplatively. Finally she just shrugs, trying to hide her own nerves.  The more she comes up here the worse the nerves get, but oddly she can't really keep herself away either.  She smiles to the rider and nods, "And she's succeeding, too." She sighs, "I don't believe we've met, I'm Kirah."  She too glances over and smiles to Azalan. </div> <bR> <div> Azalan finds what he was looking for: a pair of trous and a needle and thread. Slow, meticulous movements mark the threading of the needle, then he arranges the trous in his lap, a ragged hem on top. He gives a quick little nod and a half-smile to Cymri before beginning to carefully -- /very/ slowly -- mend the hem. "'Morning," he greets after a pause.</div> <bR> <div> A bob of the head from Azalan goes to Kirah, as well, then he bites his lip and focusses closely on the trous.</div> <bR> <div> Cymri frowns and looks at Kirah again, gaze speculative, "Am I really?" A pause, and then she slowly finishes, "I'm sorry, then.  It certainly wasn't my intention.  You've...nothing to worry about.  What happens," she shrugs, "Happens.  And then it's either all over, or it's all begun.  You can only prepare so much, and even that won't really change anything."</div> <bR> <div> K'den chuckles. "Aww, I was just pulling your leg, Cym." He casts a knowledgable eye over the sands below, and notes, "They'd best let you down there soon or we may find them rocking first, hmm?" He pops another bit of meatroll into his mouth and tosses a heerful wave to Kirah. "Well met, I'd be K'den and that brown lump over there would be Kohath."</div> <bR> <div> Cymri smiles at K'den, a bit wryly -- he was at least a little bit on target, after all.</div> <bR> <div> Azalan is near enough to the other candidates and the rider to hear conversation. For a few moments, he remains silent, stitching away. Then, he works up enough gumption to offer his name: "I'm Azalan, if I've not mentioned that already." Pondering how his interruption might be taken, he falls silent again, content to stitch.</div> <bR> <div> Kirah smiles to Cymri, "No, actually my nerves have nothing to do with your description. I guess it's just a standard case of the jitters." And a big case at that. She smiles back to the brownrider, "Well met, K'den." </div> <bR> <div> Kirah smiles to Cymri, "No, actually my nerves have nothing to do with your description. I guess it's just a standard case of the jitters." And a big case at that. She smiles back to the brownrider, "Well met, K'den." </div> <bR> <div> Cymri doesn't seem to think it's an interruption at all, as she just smiles at the boy again.  "And I'm Cymri."  She has troubling remembering who already knows that, too.  Except K'den, of course.</div> <bR> <div> K'den gives Azalan a nod of acknowledgement and chews thoughtfully. "Nothin' standard about Hatching jitters if you ask me," he muses. "It's a special kind of jitters when they're popping up and running past you all over. I dunno how I stayed standing, I was so nervous." Oh wait, he fell down, didn't he?</div> <bR> <div> "Cymri," Azalan nods. "I recognized your face." That said, he gives a little shrug and glances down at his mending; another careful, slow stitch is made. "I mean, you're a candidate and all." Another shrug follows -- his own form of punctuation -- as he nods to K'den. "Well met... sir." The title is hastily added on for safety.</div> <bR> <div> Cymri nods.  There are lots of candidate's faces to recognize.  "Well, you had a little bit of help, K'den."  Cymri can't help but remind, voice nearly teasing.  "Or what does Kohath call it?"  She's heard stories.</div> <bR> <div> Kirah bites her lip and goes ghostly pale as K'den describes the hatching.  For some reason she'd imagined the event as something orderly, definitely not chaos.  </div> <bR> <div> From Viewing Ledges, Kohath chortles to himself in a draconic whuffling sort of way, and K'den turns to give him an exasperated look. "Hush, you." To Azalan, he smirks and waves his hand vaguely. "Worry about calling me 'sir' AFTER you've Impressed," he grins. He blinks innocently at Cymri. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he smiles sweetly, encouraging another round of humming amusement from his lifemate.</div> <bR> <div> Cymri just shakes her head at K'den, smile widening.  But then she catches Kirah's expression in the peripheral and angles her head to look more closely at the girl, faint frown now tugging at her lips, "Are you... okay?"</div> <bR> <div> "Oh... alright." Azalan offers K'den a brief smile before he returns to his mending, his favorite pastime the casual observer. Stitch in, stitch out, slow, slow work.</div> <bR> <div> Keelar has arrived.</div> <div> Keelar arrives.</div> <bR> <div> Kirah nods slowly to Cymri, "I.... I'm just a little nervous that's all." Understatement of the turn. Her face still a ghostly white. "I've heard storie where candidates were killed...." she says softly, hoping that someone will be able to lay those fears to rest...</div> <bR> <div> K'den puts in quickly, "Hey, don't let ME worry you, of all people. It's all right to be nervous and all, but the only time I've ever heard of anyone being injured was due to them not paying enough attention to what was going on. You just have to be on your toes so you don't get bumped into. And even if you DO fall down, there's enough Candidates around to pick you right back up again. Gotta stick together down there." He sweeps another look over the eggs. "They're just babies, you know. They don't know quite how to control all their limbs yet, so you have to watch out for them. But they wouldn't hurt anyone on PURPOSE."</div> <bR> <div> From Viewing Ledges, Kohath sniffs indignantly at the very thought.</div> <bR> <div> K'den smirks boldly at the dragon. "Oh, listen to Mr. Coordination over here. You STILL fall over your feet half the time."</div> <bR> <div> Cymri nods.  "They're just clumsy.  If you just try to stay out of their way, you'll be fine."  Not that you should run away from your lifemate, mind you... "They're .. very focused, and not the best controlled, but they're not malicious.  At all."  Her gaze flicks back to K'den, amused.</div> <bR> <div> K'den adds with a grin, "And your lifemate won't let you run away, so if you get pounced on, it's all for the best."</div> <bR> <div> Keelar nods politely as he enters, looking over his fellow candidates and K'den. "H'lo all," he says, stifling a small smile as he looks over the eggs through the corner of his eye. </div> <bR> <div> From Viewing Ledges, Kohath sits self-consciously on his oversized feet and pretends to be very absorbed in egg-watching.</div> <bR> <div> Azalan looks up from his high-intensity mending to offer Keelar and smile and a quick wave of needle-pinching fingers. "Morning, Keelar," he greets, then adds with a teasing tone his voice, "You're up early, eh?"</div> <bR> <div> Kirah blinks, knocked over? Pounced on? Can't control their limbs? All sorts of less than lovely pictures start to swirl through the girl's mind. "All for the best." she repeats softly, timidly.  The thoughts scaring her more and more.  Destracted she smiles a greeting to Keelar, before casting her worried gaze back across the sands.</div> <bR> <div> Cymri nods.  So long as your lifemate is out there, that is.  Standing just as Keelar arrives, she smiles at him and then raises her voice again, "I think I'm going to grab a snack from the kitchens while we've still got this brief respite from chores."  Besides, she's up for tuber peeling next, anyway.  "Good to see you, K'den."  A nod goes to the others, who're not to be excluded in her goodbyes.</div> </td> </tr></table></body>