Clutching of the Chinese Zodiac Clutch

[kysseh]

((Written while high on a few meds, sorry. x.x Feel free to post here if you like. I'll reply when I can.))

The sky was just beginning to lighten, the darkness of the night giving way to the tinge of orange and gold that heralded Rukbat’s rising. It was still very early, though, early enough that most of the weyr’s residents were likely still buried in their furs. No one wanted to be up this early, least of all someone as exhausted as Savitri was. But… she was up. Up and… halfway awake.

Sipping cool water from her favorite and rather battered mug, the goldrider shifted her weight on her seat in the Hatching Ground’s stands, half-opened green eyes focusing intently on the gold that was fluttering ridiculously over one area in the sand. It had only been one full day since Hepaticath’s restless attempts at nesting had turned into actual attempts, but that one full day had felt like a sharding eternity. Sleeping next to a handsome weyrmate made it difficult to sleep, and the night prior to the appearance of the first egg had been spent doing anything but sleeping. It had calmed her hormones, but the exhaustion and lingering soreness were her payment for such foolhardy playing.

You should rest, ViMine. Hepaticath suddenly prodded Hers, the gold’s tail lashing in agitation as the queen finally settled to lay another egg. Hepaticath had settled and risen enough times that Savitri had not bothered keeping count, and the constant fluttering of wings and muzzle over the clutch made it impossible for the young woman to get a good look. Hepaticath had offered up only a grumble when Savitri had asked the young gold to stop fussing, so the fight had been given up for the moment. The junior weyrwoman, being tired and aching and having to guard the door in case people came in--unlikely, considering that Hepaticath was making little noise to alert outsiders--had been far from prepared to nag Hepaticath into letting her get a look. She figured the gold would stop being such a snot after all the eggs were laid.

Now, though, watching Hepaticath’s efforts toward laying the next egg, Savitri felt her own womb give a sympathetic cramp, nose wrinkling in discomfort. Mmph. Did not want. Despite the fact that the squeezing, cramping, tightening sensation continued much as it had for the past day and night, the goldrider’s attention remained largely on her mindmate, finally emitting a sigh of relief as Hepaticath snorted and stood. She got only the briefest glimpse of a dull gray-brown egg before the queen went back to nuzzling sand around and covering up the shells with wings and body. Apparently, Hepaticath didn’t want to share.

“Stop fussing, you. I’m not going to hurt your eggs. I just want to see them. Are you finished?” she asked rather waspishly, blowing out a massive exhale of frustration as she leaned back just a bit in her seat in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her back. “Just let me count them,” she added, her tone softening at the indignant huff that Hepaticath sent her way. “Please…?”

The queen huffed again and then settled silently back on the sands with the telltale hunch. Another one, Savitri supposed, which meant she was not yet done. At least the queen tucked her wings in this time, allowing the queenrider to get a better count. Twelve, it looked like, and Hepaticath seemed to be intently focused on one more. The queen’s belly was noticeably deflated, and Savitri wondered if it would be the last. Thirteen wasn’t a bad number, especially not for a first clutch and considering how sharding big the eggs looked, and-

A squeal of surprise from Savitri immediately followed Hepaticath’s outright roar of pain. The queen was most displeased with her egg, and while Savitri recovered from the surprise of the loud noise, Hepaticath railed silently against the egg that refused to come. Bad egg, that one. Quite the bad egg. There are people out there. she informed Savitri, most unhappy about the interruption. They wanted to see, did they? Fine, but she didn’t have to like it.

Rubbing one palm against a tight spot on her belly, the young woman raised her voice enough to carry to the entrance of the grounds, her gaze still on her mindmate as the queen continued to work at the stubborn egg. One of the others had taken nearly this long, but Hepaticath was very tired now. Very… very tired, after a day of laying eggs. Hopefully this was the last.

“You can come in. Stay in the Stands, though, or she’ll eat you.”

Such a kind warning to those curious folk who wanted to look in. Ah well.

[glamourie]

I could eat them.

The suggestion was genuine. Ciceroth was not, as most might have expected, anywhere inside the hatching grounds. He was, instead, outside, curled up near the entrance, watching for any intruders in much the same fashion as Savitri was from inside. However, in some ways, his threat was more frightening than the gold rider’s -- considering that Ciceroth was growling. He did not normally growl. In fact, he did not normally make his anger obvious by any means. It was obvious how protective he was, from the lash of his tail, the warning hues of his eyes (which were comically colored to match his hide for once), and the slight hint of danger in his posture. Curled, yes, but not by any means crippled or rendered to an exact position: he could rise, move even, with a degree of speed alarming for a creature of his size, and he was watching, waiting, for anyone to give him a reason to do just that. Once someone got a clue of what was going on at the hatching sands, people would flood in - and Ciceroth did not want any of them anywhere near the Stands until Hepaticath was done, or until she gave permission. If he had to, he was not above keeping them out by force. The threat was real. Only a handful of people merited his tolerance and thus would be allowed to pass without question. One of them was inside. The other was coming down too. And the rest… would know to ask Hepaticath first.

Savitri’s words made him swing his head up and Ciceroth snorted. The sound carried, no doubt able to be heard inside. While it was tempting to go in and try to comfort Hepaticath, the position outside kept anyone from coming in without him knowing… and he could just chomp anyone he didn’t actually approve of. Like that brown who dumped water on His. He could chomp him… Was she even sure that Hepaticath was all right with people coming inside? Ciceroth shifted, and then moved until his entire body was blocking the entry way to the Stands from the outside. He wasn’t sure. Over-protective? Perhaps a little, but it was justified: the last clutch he’d sired, he was not allowed on the Sands. Only around the outside. Salenth had landed on the Sands - he remembered that. Hepaticath wasn’t Aslath, though, and he was very, very fond of her… and very, very protective of their clutch as a result. The over-protective behavior also stemmed in part from his mindmate, though he didn’t acknowledge it. What he did acknowledge was that his position in the doorway kept everyone out. Everyone. Until Hepaticath said it was okay. Hepaticath, not Savitri.

She says you’re willing to let people into the Stands. Do you really want to? I can keep them out. I do not intend to let anyone in until you tell me that it is okay. Your clutching is none of their concern.

He fidgeted, twitching his tail animatedly. Movement from in front of him caught his eye and Ciceroth arched his wings imposingly, until the moving figure came into view. Then he snapped his wings to his back and his eyes whirled more agitatedly, before he huffed. The entire posture was comically haughty, and he eyed the short figure temperamentally.

You are intentionally trying to prove me wrong, are you not? You did this on purpose. I should not let you pass. Just for being difficult.

Quirking an eyebrow, Ka’rys removed Merce from his shoulder and flung the salamandyr at the bronze. Merce squawked the whole way, and landed, half-splatting, against Ciceroth’s side. Furious, the blue scurried up to the large male’s back and took to spitting indignantly at Ka’rys, while Ciceroth edged to make just enough crack in the entrance for Ka’rys to slip onto the Sands. The bronze watched his rider go before moving back into the doorway, and sprawling. No one would get past him short of going between to get inside, and he was betting anything foolish enough to do that would suffer Hepaticath’s wrath terribly. Merce scampered onto his head and took to chattering endlessly at Ka’rys in revenge for being thrown (and he would have followed if not for the stern insistence from His that he stay put). Where was the green thing when he needed her?

Sauntering up onto the Stands, Ka’rys rubbed his eye with one hand. He was, for once in his life, wearing a big pair of black boots, unlaced, and a long, loose pair of dark gray pants that brushed over the tops of his boots as he walked. He looked like he’d just rolled out of the furs… which he had, as evidenced by his hair sticking up at odd angles. Sleepy-time Ka’rys.

“Am I going to have to tie you to a bed? Being out here where it is so hot isn’t good for you, you know…” Trust Ka’rys to wake up scolding.

[Requiem]

(Edited ^^)

The young brown was on a mission and, for the moment, his rider was going along with it. Of course, he wouldn't be once he knew that the sire was there, too, but Ruth figured that M'taHis would be too tired to turn back by that point. (Yay for cleverness.) It was very, very good that Happycath liked him so, that it was. Really, how could she turn them down when they came bearing gifts?

Shardall, PMS cooed lovingly from his spot atop the brownrider's head. M'ta sighed. Two days now, and the salamandyr was still cursing gleefully. Albeit the phrase wasn't terrible, PMS showed no sign of growing tired of it.

M'ta was weary. Much as he had a knack for fading into the background when he so chose, the difference was distinct; his steps were uncharacteristically unsure as he picked his way up the stairs carved into the cliff face. Behruth kept up a steady stream of updates from his position high above, where he circled lazily in the southern skies. Though the young man was only partially listening, he appreciated his mindmate's closeness. They both needed it.

Even after his first lucid wakening, the lingering fever had left M'ta bedridden and delirious in stages for another sevenday. The fever finally broke two days past. Driven to move and get some air, M'ta snuck from the infirmary, but even he knew better than to attempt flight with Behruth so early.

Not after his worst day in Bitra had he felt so weak. He was winded halfway up and forced to stop to rest, PMS scrambling all over him in uncontrolled excitement. Half-healed ribs and the nasty wound in his upper chest made breathing difficult. The young man adjusted his laden belt-pouch (the which he'd had to pierce a new hole in just to fasten it) and picked his way to the sands where he paused uncertainly. The massive bronze meant Ka'rys. M'ta eyed the dragon warily while Jabari, who had not left M'ta's person since the brownrider awoke, lifted his head from where it rested against the young man's neck, twittering anxiously.

Why do you stop? You want to see Happycath's.
It's Ciceroth.
I'm sure he'll let you pass.
He doesn't look very friendly today, Ruth.
You just aren't fond of Ciceroth's.
Yes, but...they are busy. Now is not the best time.
The shinies.
Ruth...
The one you made pretty for Happycath, at least.
I don't know.
I did not want to give it to you, but you made it even shinier! Now it is better. Please?
Hepaticath is clutching. It is not a good time, Ruth.

Savitri's voice carried to him, the man-child lingering to adjust the satchel that weighed heavy across his shoulders. Behruth's self-satisfied mental touch made M'ta want to roll his eyes. "She's going to scold me for being up," the brownrider muttered rebelliously, weathering his brown's amusement with ill grace. At least it kept him from thinking about the bronzerider already there. "Or for being thin, or for allowing myself to get sick, or for acting as I did in the fight - likely all at once."

Stop bellyaching.
Shardall, PMS agreed, nesting himself deeper into M'ta's hair.
All right, all right. But you have to ask. I'm not going anywhere near the big mountain of angry dragon. He'll eat me.

Good day, Happycath, Behruth crooned from above, circling the grounds at enough of a distance to hopefully avoid any grumpy bronzes. Mine brings the Clutching gifts I told you about, but your pet bronze is guarding the entrance, Behruth commented, amused. ShortyMine doesn't much want to be eaten, you see. Yes. He'd picked up Checkoth's nickname for M'ta, much to the rider's chagrine.

[Sheari]

WHY?! It was too early to be waken up by a roaring dragon! It was too early to be waken up by anything! Shard it all! The candidate curled up in her furs trying her best to sleep again. The more she tried, slowly but surely, the more Anusha woke up. Soon an angry, groggy gaze turned into a glare at the wall. Now she would never get back to sleep and she'd probably wind up dozing over breakfast after she found out what was going on. Breakfast. That thought was a pleasant one as she dropped from her bunk and pulled on a good pair of pants an the shirt she had worn yesterday (Akos was still sleeping in it and only stirred slightly). Draping a fur about her shoulders and slipping boots on she made her way out of the Candidate Barracks.

The air was cool and crisp and at first made Anusha shiver. She noticed that it was just getting past the pre-dawn grey and reaching into something with colour. Instead of head to the Hatching Grounds to see what was going on she headed to the kitchens to grab a warm mug if klah. With mug in hand and the fur still on her shoulders the girl began the walk to the grounds. The cobwebs in her head made it hard for her sleepy mind to sift through reasons to be awake at this hour. She first hit the events that had happened recently. However she had trouble keeping them in order.

Brat's clutch had hatched. A dragon wouldn't announced something involving a Salamandyr, would it? The Main Hall had been taken hostage. Were they under attack? At that notion Anusha grew a little more alert. They might be, and she was outside alone. An easy target for anyone with malicious intent. Hapaticath had flown. Could she be clutching? She'd never been around a Weyr with a clutching Queen so she wouldn't have known what it was about. She might as well check since that was where she was going anyway.

Upon her arrival, Anusha stopped short of the entrance. A big, bronze hide barred her way and there was no use in trying to get past. But the entrance to the sands was blocked which meant that Hepaticath had been clutching and that that was what had woken her up. Mystery solved. Next to the entrance was where she decided to remain as she took a seat on the damp grass.

Unfortunately the only part of Savitri's message to reach the candidate's ears had been 'or she'll eat you,' which warranted the decision to not try to gain entry. She just wanted to wake up some more before she traveled back to get food.

She took a sip of klah.

[kysseh]

A few moments of painful wrangling were spent in silence, and then Hepaticath let out an audible whuff of relief as the egg finally slipped free into the sand, gleaming dully as the queen finally moved off the massive object to get a good look at it. Sand was hurriedly mounded around the base to keep it from rolling, though the heavy egg had settled deeply enough into the sand that the danger of it moving was minimal, at best. Still, Hepaticath decided to play it safe with this largest of her eggs. It pleased her... and irked her, it did. The gleaming white shell was quite lovely, but those ribbons of red and gold... they formed the shape of something she had no desire to see. Tree. The egg had a shape of a tree on it, and Hepaticath, tired but elated, sent a mental image of the egg and its pattern to her mate.

The tree. she said simply, her tone tinged with pride. A lovely egg, it was. Didn't he agree? At his query, though, the young gold rumbled softly, conflicted for a moment. She didn't particularly want to let the creatures onto her sands to see her lovely eggs, but... SavitriHers wanted it. In fact, SavitriHers had already invited them. Hmph. The gold returned to her couch and settled uncomfortably on the stone surface, tail lashing back and forth in agitation. They may enter. But... they must stay in the Stands. They can not come on the Sands. You may come look if you like. They are magnificent eggs. Beautiful eggs... and all very large. He was her mate. He was allowed, of course.

Savitri allowed herself a smile of pride at Hepaticath's concession. The gold was obviously quite tired and anxious at the thought of her clutch being harmed. Still, she was allowing it, and that made the young woman quite, quite happy. Granted, that was about all that made her happy for the moment. The clutch was out and healthy-looking, Hepaticath was fine and allowing people in... and Savitri was still exhausted and wishing her backache would go away. That... or her womb would stop its fussing. Between her squirming child and the general coming and going of aches and pains, the goldrider was quite uncomfortable, thank you.

So distracted was she by her own discomfort and Hepaticath's lovely bunch of thirteen eggs that she failed to notice she was being approached until Ka'rys's scolding reached her ears. After flinching in surprise, the goldrider turned bleary eyes toward her weyrmate, brows furrowing slightly at the sight of boots and thoroughly dishevelled hair. Strange. "Why are you up this early?" She hadn't awakened him, certainly. She hadn't even gone to bed in her weyr, as was evidenced by the two blankets and the pillow stashed in the stands. It wasn't her that did it. Not her, not her. Still, she did acknowledge his scolding with a crinkle of her nose and a huff. "You would choose now to want to get me into a bed to tie me up. Hepaticath needed me. And... I would've woken you up anyway. Couldn't sleep right," she muttered softly. "Body hurts."

It hurt quite a lot, actually, and she arched her back, pushing out her stomach a bit in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. Hmph. Bad baby. "Is Ciceroth going to let anyone in? They're all going to want to see the eggs, and it's best if they try to get a peek while she's still in a good mood," the goldrider commented anxiously, the hand not holding her mug going to curl around the bronzerider's arm. He looked exhausted. "Did you get any sleep at all?" Because she was, of course, the picture of good sleep habits.

Hepaticath gave a noise of surprise and tipped her head up for a moment, crooning low in her throat when she recognized the one who hailed her. Behruth. Of course. Her gaze quickly returned to her clutch, though she did the brown the courtesy of answering. It lacked her usual eloquence, but she still managed to be friendly. Hello, Behruth. I am sure Mine would be happy to see Yours. She is sitting with Ciceroth's now. I am sure my Ciceroth will let Yours in, so long as he does not come onto the Sands themselves. The statement was punctuated by a rumble, and then the queen stretched and began to anxiously fuss over the nearest of her eggs. They weren't getting too hot, were they? She had to check and be sure...

[glamourie]

An image passed through his mind and Ciceroth crooned softly. The tree. He remembered it, he did. How funny that one of the eggs should show the little tree. His eyes whirled shades of blue in his affection and the bronze squirmed, happily, in response. Her offer to let him come inside made him fidget a little, and he was saved from an immediate answer by the sight of something else approaching and he leaned forward to look M’ta over skeptically. The sight of him brought back an image, not a memory of his own but Ka’rys’s - blood dripping down his arm and the scar that lingered, pain and running through the corridors, anger at Savitri so out of place and hurt, and a feeling of general annoyance. The mere image of M’ta summoned those lingering feelings and he snorted loudly enough to kick up sand around his legs before the bronze twitched his tail. Hesitantly, he nudged the brown rider, being careful to be gentle, but the movement was examining, in much the same fashion as Hepaticath often did him. This one annoyed His. He didn’t recall exactly why, but RysHis did not like him, and that made Ciceroth very reluctant to let him in. Hepaticath said it was all right, though, and he would not disrespect her by going against her wishes. She was Queen, and she was the clutch mother. If she was okay with him… he’d tolerate it.

So Ciceroth rose up and moved, nudging the boy inside gently with his snout. His eyes whirled and he followed, slinking onto the hatching grounds to see the eggs that he’d sired; in the process, he effectively allowed Anusha entry as well, though he did not examine her as closely as he had M’ta. She hadn’t once attacked His, after all. The bronze took to his wings and glided up to the ledge next to his mate. Lovingly brushing his head against Hepaticath’s, he curled up next to her and looked down at the eggs, so neatly clustered together, and he gave a low croon of approval. Thirteen was a very good number for a first clutch and they were all very large. He had no doubt it would be the best clutch to ever hatch on Selenitas’s sands. Nuzzling the gold next to him, Ciceroth’s eyes whirled affectionately. Lovingly, even. His Hepaticath. Their babies. The best babies on all of Pern to be sure, because they had the best parents~

Inside, Ka’rys crinkled his nose and eyed Savitri testily. Why was he up indeed…? He’d been sleeping fine, he had, until Merce started chattering ‘egglings’ in his ear. Or head rather. Then he’d rolled over and sensed Ciceroth’s agitation, which told him what was going on: Hepaticath was clutching. He hadn’t seen the clutch that hatched Hepaticath up close and personal. Shmee made her dislike of him obvious. Frustrating, it was, and he’d been miserable for a time, not being able to see the first clutch his dragon had ever sired. But this one - this one he’d get to see. Hepaticath and Savitri wouldn’t deny him the chance to look at the eggs more closely, as long as he wasn’t on the Sands themselves. Which was dandy since he hated walking across even the part it took to get up into the Stands. He’d had to wear shoes. He hated shoes.

“Seems I got woke up regardless, didn’t I? So it’s pointless. And that probably comes from, I don’t know, sleeping on a hard wooden bench. I imagine that’s uncomfortable,” Ka’rys scolded with a slight twitch of his nose. His gaze flicked to where Ciceroth was, as Merce was perching on the bronze’s head (and was intelligent enough not to go near Hepaticath’s eggs). “Merce woke me, babbling about eggs, and humming. Ophelie was too. They both felt the need to let me know that Hepaticath was clutching. Thirteen, it looks like…? Not a bad number at all…” Especially not for a first clutch. He glanced down at Savitri before taking a seat beside her. His arm wrapped around her and he crinkled his nose. “Given a choice, Ciceroth wouldn’t let anyone in and M’ta is coming.” The slight agitation from his bronze was indicator enough and it cut off his ability to answer Savitri’s last question as he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Perhaps I should go and let you two talk…? He’s been ill for quite awhile, I imagine you have a lot to catch up on.” And he didn’t want to be around M’ta if he could help it. He wasn’t the nicest kitten in the litter.

Rysmine does not like Behruth’s, Ciceroth said, though he himself did not have a problem with the brown circling overhead. They are lovely, all of them. Especially the little tree. The buzzing on his head made him rumble, and then he added, The little cousin hums. He is confused. He thinks they are hatching, I think…