Hatching of the All Hallows Wher Clutch

[irbre]

The whole Weyr was silent save for the occasional shuffle of the whers and the snorts of dragons in their sleep. Hardly anything stirred in the stifling darkness, which hung oppressively over the senses. In one corner of the Weyr, though, the soft light of glows lit the slow and deliberate movements of one pair in particular. The dull light glinted off golden hide as the Queen wher shifted, glittering on the facets of massive eyes blended with blue and green. Her handler was close by, working patiently on patching a worn garment, occasionally daring a glance out of the corner of her eye at the nest of furs her wher had created.

Neisk had painstakingly created the nest when she was at her largest, gathering furs into a large pile on top of the straw, as well as adding what appeared to be loose Weyrbrat clothes to the mess. Individual shells shone through the looping mass, bright and dull specks of color that reflected the sparse lighting. It appeared to be working well, though Neirin wanted to have a word about a more comfortable cot. Frowning, she shifted, the legs of the cot clacking loudly, earning her a glare and soft huff from Neisk, who was hunched over her Clutch, protective as always. The gold wher turned back to her eggs, surprise suddenly leaping up between their bond, the emotion strong and true.

Neirin leapt to her feet, dropping the half-finished sewing job to the straw below, cot launching back a good few feet as she moved quickly and carefully to Neisk's side. The surprise was dying, replaced by anxiety and a slight bit of panic, the protective element still there as well. She stood up quickly, carefully nudging the furs and clothes away to reveal a soft twitching egg as the Harvest Moon Egg twitched, the goldenrod shell warm in the light. One of the pock marks bulged outward, then settled back. It was hatching, finally hatching. Neisk's first glorious Clutch was about to hatch.

Neirin spun on her heels, racing out the door and towards her apartment, intent upon retrieving the proper items before alerting the Candidates. Halfway down the hall, thank Faranth, a Drudge appeared, no doubt doing some strange late-night chores, and Neirin practically leapt upon the poor girl. "I need the Candidates woken; the wher Clutch is Hatching! And please, bring klah," she added as an after thought, hoping that the girl had sense to go and knock on each of the Candidates' doors. Not waiting for an answer, Neirin was already spinning away, moving as quickly towards her own Weyr as possible to retrieve the cleaned knives that would be needed for the Hatching.

Knives in tow, and a bit cleaner, Neirin retreated back towards the Hatching room, smiling as she went. Candidates should be arriving any moment, woken by sharp raps to their doors. She remembered how she had been awoken, back when she had bonded to Neisk. This manner would be much more subtler. Striding into the room, Neirin noticed vaguely that Neisk had already done quite a bit of work, peeling back the protective furs and clothing to reveal each egg below, a few of which were now rocking. She had laid said furs over the straw below, making it look like a strange blossom, branching out gracefuly, no doubt for the protection of the wherlets. Already she was crooning softly, hunched over the eggs, her eyes occasionally flicking towards the door possessively, watching for Candidates to arrive. Torn feelings, Neirin noted. The Queen wanted her children to live and bond, but she was loathe to have strangers meet them.

Feeling a rush of sympathy, Neirin made her way towards the cot, smiling as she noted that it had already been righted. The Drudge had been quick, that had been for sure, and had perhaps alerted the Candidatemaster to the Hatching before fetching fresh klah, which was steaming lazily in the still air. There was even a small plate of meatrolls for the humans who were hungry, positioned next to the massive bowl of meat chunks for the hungry hatchlings. Neirin moved the bowl to the floor, carefully laying down the knives in their place, flashing blades pointed up and away. One to each Candidate who entered, if they didn't have one, and the offer of klah and meatrolls, if they didn't feel too queasy. Some people were nervous at Hatchings, Neirin knew, and for good reasons. Straightening, she glanced back at Neisk, who was humming softly, the faint strain echoing through the Weyr from the other whers and flitts who had taken up the Hatching anthem.

Pumpking Egg - Hatched Brown Rilyesk; bonded to Rilyer
Cobweb Egg - Hatched Green Cerysk; bonded to Ceryl
Harvest Moon Egg - Hatched Brown Jermaysk, bonded to Jermayan
Skeletal Egg - Hatched Green Hensk, bonded to Hennai
Black Feline Egg - Hatched Green Kalushsk, bonded to Kalushka
Reaper Egg - Hatched Blue Derrisk, bonded to Derrin
Jack-O-Lantern Egg - Hatched Bronze Pidesk; bonded to Piden
Living Dead Egg - Force-hatched Blue Meisk, bonded to Meira

[Ruby]

Kemma
Mellith knew it was almost time. That was another reason Hers had applied Candidatemaster, the petite Green knew- Mellith was quite sensitive to the tones and rhythms of dragon pregnancies. That sensitivity wasn't so strong for Whers, so Mellith only had a vague idea of when the little ones would crack shell, but she had in pinpointed down to a period of about ten days. She was usually accurate within five for Dragons, but Whers were harder to get a mental hold on, she had learned.

Anyway, it meant that though Hers was asleep curled up as she always did with her Bonded, one arm out flung and curls obscuring half her face, Mellith was awake. Dozing somewhat, but still alert, as she would be all night. Mellith never got much sleep near hatching times, always a half-awake doze, wanting to be the first to know.

This time, she almost was. As soon as Neisk knew, Mellith perked up, although she wasn't sure in her half-drowse state why that would be. She expanded her mind lethargically, loath to wake her rider unless it was necessary, as one might stretch upon waking. Ah yes, there it was- a girl, perhaps frightened, heading their way. Mellith touched her mind calmly, felt the girl start, then touched her again, dumping her Rider unceremoniously on the floor in the process. When Mellith was sure the girl wouldn't bolt at hearing a Dragon's unexpected voice, she spoke. Hello, there. Do not fear. Is Neisk's hatching? She felt, rather than heard, the girl's affirmative. Mellith was used to this sort of unchanneled thought from non-riders- it took some getting used to, but that didn't bother Mellith now. Instead, she turned her mind to her charges, broadcasting loudly to the Candidates and quietly to the Weyr at large in case others were interested. Wake up, Selenitas. Neisk's hatches. Candidates, if you are to stand for the Whers, please proceed to the Wherhandler's Apartments, where Kemma will meet you and send you in.

Kemma was groggy, and not at all pleased that she'd been dumped. But Mellith's broadcast reached her too, and she realized she had duties to perform, now. She couldn't just return to bed like she wanted.

Tossing her hair into a braid to make it look somewhat presentable, Kemma tore apart her wardrobe, looking for something suitable. Oh, to be a candidate again, and have a uniform. She quickly settled on a white blousy top and light pants- it would identify her with the Candidates well enough, which was what she wanted. As soon as she was presentable, she headed into the hall, intercepting the poor Drudge, who still looked quite shocked. Well, Kemma had tried, but there was no stopping her talking to whatever human she wanted. "Go on back to Neirin, she'll need help. I'll get the Candidates there as soon as possible," she assured the girl, who headed mutely back the way she'd come. Kemma and Mellith, on the other hand, dropped off their Ledge, flying around to the Handler's Apartments so as to beat the candidates there.

That they managed, and Kemma and Mellith positioned themselves outside the door. It was unlikely that any other dragons would attend, given the size of the room, and Kemma instructed Mellith to wait in the hall once she sent the Candidates inside. It would give them all more room.

Kemma waited until all or most of her Candidates were gathered, and whatever spectators arrived had entered the room, then said a few words. "Remember to be polite, bow to Neisk and Neirin, and then don't touch. The Wherlings will come to you. You will be expected to create a blood-bond with the Wher that chooses you- Neirin should have knives for you, and meat, just inside the door. Cut yourself when a Wher approaches and bonds- you'll know, although they don't speak like Dragons. So cut yourself and let yourself bleed so they can taste it, otherwise they'll bite, or your bond will be weak. You'll enter in a single file line- make one now, please." Kemma stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. "Good luck!" she added finally, knocking softly before opening the door to let the Candidates in. She wasn't paying attention- hopefully Mellith had let Neirin know they were coming. Kemma herself followed, inclining her head as well to Neirin and Neisk, and went to stand in the back, against the wall. She realized her heart was just about pounding out of her chest- this, in many ways, was Kemma's hatching too: it was the first bunch of Candidates she had prepared. Faranth grant that they were worthy.


Piden
Whers weren't really Piden's cup of tea, but he was up now, and they too would give him a permanent reason to be away from farms and in people's beds without any strings attached. He assumed, anyway. Candidate Lessons hadn't really covered Whers, and Piden's only personal experiances were when they and their Handlers had caught him and a partner in some dark illicit corner during a Gather. He didn't exactly expect to Impress, but he figured he might as well try. It was better than getting sent back to nowhere, to be married and trapped into a life of monogamy and children. Shards, he thought, I'm only fifteen. How could my life be so complicated already?

White robes weren't complicated, though. Piden pulled it out, admiring it. He hadn't even looked when it had been delivered to his room, just hours after his arrival, laid out on his bed as if it were some sort of required badge of honor. Well, it was in a way, he figured, it just wasn't required everyday, so it had been relegated to the bottom of his chest. Now it was a bit wrinkled, but not too bad- he pulled the fabric right and left, up and down, trying to smooth it. The wrinkles didn't come out, but Piden became aware of the other boys stirring around him. Good thing his hair always lay flat- he'd look like more effort had gone into his appearance than it actually had.

He pulled the robe on over his head, shaking it once to settle his hair once again. The plain rope belt went around the waist, and no shoes, although unless Piden was mistaken the Hatching would not be on the hot Sands. As if in response to this, Mellith's voice- now somewhat familiar, as it might be to any candidate who ever hung around the Barracks (sharding nosy Dragon)- entered his head uninvited once again, instructing him to the Wherhandler's Apartments. With a sigh, he headed down the stairs, following Mellith's swooping form and the low humming rather than any foreknowledge of where the Handlers lived.

He made it, though, no problems, and qued up in front of Kemma with the rest of them, standing a bit too close to one of the more attractive girls. This wasn't really the time for that, though, Piden knew- and he shuffled vaguely back just in time to find himself near the front of the line that had magically appeared in the hall. Then Kemma pushed open the door, and Piden entered the dark room, feeling like he was in a dream.

He'd never seen a Wher this close before, and it took all his self-discipline not to recoil. Those things were UGLY! But there was something about them he liked, on second inspection- something about the way the muscles bunched under the skin, looking ten times stronger and more dangerous than Dragons. It would cut quite the figure, he supposed, to have one of those at your back. He bowed to the Gold and her Handler, going to retrieve a knife and the biggest hunk of meat he could from the bowl. He'd only vaguely taken in what Kemma had said about blood-bonds- now it hit him full force, and he realized that meatrolls sounded about as unappetizing as it was possible for food to sound right now. He couldn't help but imagine the chunk of flesh he was holding as a piece of him, gouged out of his back or thigh. Ugh.

Well, at least it was clear enough what the meat was for, and that comforted Piden a bit. Feed the baby, cut yourself, let them drink your blood. Great, he thought, shifting from one foot to the other. Blood-sucking babies, what have I gotten myself into now. But he smiled again, picturing himself with a big Bronze Wher at his back, adding a couple of scars, feeling dangerous. Maybe this was for him after all.

Raila
Raila was even less interested that Piden. Whers WERE ugly, and anyway, she'd be impressing a Gold Dragon, thank you very much. But she knew Meira would be standing, and despite the girl's recent fraternization with the enemy, Raila counted her as a friend. And friends supported friends in their ventures- this was what Meira wanted, after all. A Wher. With a bit of an evil grin, Raila realized that Mutasim wouldn't be there, either. It was unlikely anyway, he was only a Dragon candidate as far as she knew. All the more reason to go, in Raila's book.

But she wasn't a Candidate. She had no desire to stand for Whers, but she would like to watch. The white robe stayed folded neatly at the top of her trunk, still unworn at Selenitas. She pulled out something darker- dark trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. It was cold now, at night, although still insanely hot during the day. Cold in comparison, anyway. Raila idly wondered if it would ever rain this winter, but this being the South, she wouldn't be that surprised if it didn't. The River had seemed low lately, though...

She followed a boy around her age, one she didn't know, and found the Hatching Room easily enough. Once you got into the Handler's Apartments, it was pretty hard to miss Mellith. She passed Kemma up, though, entering the room before any of the Candidates. Feeling a bit awkward, she inclined her head to the Gold, not sure what she should do. Did they rank with Goldriders? Pausing just inside the door, she turned to the Handler, asking, "Is... is it ok if I just watch? I've got friends who want to Impress." Was it rude to imply that she didn't?

Waiting for a response, Raila's eyes raked the room, taking in all the... well, admittedly gory details. What were the knives for? Even the clutch looked a bit sinister. She had figured on the meat, although usually at Dragon hatching it was outside. The klah smelled so good, and Raila could feel herself drooping already, but it was right by those shiny blades... Maybe she'd get some once she was sure it was alright for her to stay.

[Ember]

Ceryl wasn't a deep sleeper but she didn't expect the mind voice that gently interrupted her dreams. She awoke with a lot of confusion before she fully remembered what was said to her. Her eyes widened and she all but leaped out of bed. The Hatching! She grabbed her white robe (which was far too plain for her tastes) and pulled it on over her head. Within moments others would normally consider her ready, but the young candidate knew that her hair was a mess and she looked like the walking dead. There just wasn't enough time!

With a huff Ceryl left the candidate barracks. She managed a quick pace without running. She didn't even know what Whers looked like, nevermind how to Bond with them. All she knew was that she'd get a first hand experience. Despite her pretty good control on every emotion besides anger she was nervous. very nervous. What if something went wrong? What if she was attacked by one of them? She'd have to trust what the candidatemaster said this time.

Speaking of Kemma, the woman was waiting outside the wherhandler appartments. Ceryl listened intently until the part of the blood-bond. She was expected to cut herself? Although that option seemed better than the other two. She followed after the other candidates like a lost puppy. Her bow to Neirin and her Gold Wher was rigid and forced. That's a wher? She thought curiously. It wasn't exactly pretty but they had a sort of charm. She could Bond to something like that.

To do that she'd need what was offered; a knife and some meat. Neither were very appetizing to her, but she grabbed both and awaited the whers.

[ladybug]

Rilyer needed his beauty sleep, and he wasn't happy when a feminine voice sounded in his head, waking him up. For a moment, he wondered if the voice had been part of a dream, but then he saw the other candidates moving about and realized that the Hatching really had started. He yawned, wishing he could move with more alacrity, but it was just so difficult to convince his tired bones to move.

Finally, he managed to drag himself out of his cot and pull on his white robe. He ran a brush through his mussed hair and glanced in the mirror, groaning when he saw dark shadows under his eyes. He might have snuck into the girls barracks to steal some makeup for that problem, but he didn't have time. Now that he was fully awake, he was excited for the Hatching. Maybe a wher would choose him tonight.

He managed to arrive on time, and he joined the other candidates around Kemma. Ril already knew the procedure from Hatchings, but it was good to hear it again, in case he went blank and forgot what to do when a wher actually came his way. The cutting part certainly sounded unappealing...but better than being bitten, he supposed.

Following Ceryl, he entered the room. He had never seen a wher up close before. Neisk wasn't as graceful or streamlined as a dragon, but Rilyer didn't care. Whers were built for their purpose, and that wasn't an ugly thing. The dark room did seem a bit creepy, but it was all part of the excitement, in Ril's opinion.

[weaving]

It was rather late, Jermayan mused as he stifled a yawn and stumbled up the stairs toward the boys room in the barracks. He was making his way from the infirmary, having volunteered to work part of the night shift. He had grown accustomed to remaining up late, though it meant that he usually slept in and started his day later than the others. His odd schedule generally worked out just fine, except for on days that there were candidate lessons.

He sighed ruefully and paused at the entryway to the room, running his fingers through his hair and then allowing them to drag down along the side of his face, attempting to wake himself up enough to make it to his bunk without incident. He didn’t want to wake any of the others, knowing that there were those in the room who wouldn’t respond well to being roused in the middle of the night.

Of course, as hard as he tried to remain silent and not disturb the sleep of others, it was ultimately for nothing. Mellith’s mindcall sounded awful loud when there was little other noise to distract a person and she had purposely made it loud enough to rouse sleeping candidates. It took a moment to realize that the message was for him as well. Shards he was tired!

As the others around him woke, he went through the motions of putting on the white robes, though he had a few moments of trouble finding the proper holes for his arms to go through. Finally, he was properly dressed and moved to follow the others that had already started for the wherhandler quarters.

Kemma met them at the door, giving her instructions before admitting them into the room. Grab a knife, blood with a hatchling if it chose him. Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. He had dealt with knives and blood before, sometimes his own blood when the knife in his hands had accidentally slipped. Looking around at the faces of the others, he noticed that some of them felt a good deal more queasy about it.

As he entered single file with the others, Jermayan grabbed a knife, holding it carefully, point down, before moving toward the queen wher and her handler. Kemma had said to bow and so he did so, hoping that it would be deemed respectful enough for the clutchmother. He hadn’t had much practice bowing before.

During that moment, he studied Neisk. It was the first wher he had been this close to. Others might find her repulsive, but he found her to be graceful and regal,just as much as a queen dragon. Some people might not see it, but he did. There was beauty within the ropy muscles, small wings and wide-set eyes of these creatures, if one looked properly.

Once Jermayan straightened, he caught a whiff of meatrolls and klah, and his stomach rumbled appreciatively. He glanced toward the platter and noted that they remained mostly untouched. Ah well, more for him. The food wasn’t far from where he stood, in fact the whole room was rather small, and he covered the distance quickly.

Food and drink in hand, Jermayan returned to his place near the clutch with the other candidates, waiting hopefully.

[ravenmane]

Wake up, Selenitas. Neisk's hatches. Candidates, if you are to stand for the Whers, please proceed to the Wherhandler's Apartments, where Kemma will meet you and send you in.

As the familiar voice sounded in Kalushka's head, the girl stirred in her bunk. Her fire-lizard, Jashta, peeped curiously as her mistress began to get out of bed.The fire-lizard chirped again as she sensed the excitement building in her Bonded. Kal stroked the fire-lizard before moving to rummage through her trunk. After finally locating her candidaterobes, the girl quickly donned them. She could see other girls doing the same. Before Kalushka could move completely away from her bed, a small voice sounded in her head. No!

The candidate turned to see her salamandyr, Fog, slowly inching towards the edge of her furs. "No, Fog. You can't come with me. Queens don't like salamandyrs and fire-lizards around when their babies are Hatching." The blind creature chirped pitifully as Kal placed him gently on her pillow. "Jashta, you better stay with Fog or you'll be in big trouble." Kalushka glanced at the green flit before trailing after two other candidates. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness as she searched for the familiar form of Mellith.

When Kalushka did see the Green, she was surprised to see several other candidates already present. I must have been pretty slow, the girl thought silently as she joined the small line of candidates. Humming filled her ears even though it seemed to be only Mellith who hummed. "I hope I Impress..." Kalushka whispered quietly as the CandidateMistress intructed her charges. As the group filed into the room, Kalushka felt the breath catch in her throat from excitement.

Her nerves were buzzing with excitement, and memories of the first Wher Hatching came unbeckoned. Kalushka could remember when Neirin Impressed the Gold Queen Neisk, and how hopeless the girl had felt when she had failed to Impress at the Hatching. Maybe tonight would be her lucky night. After she bowed respectfully to Neisk and her handler, Kalushka couldn't help but notice some of the queasy expressions on some faces. They must be nervous about cutting themselves. Faranth knows how many times I've knicked myself while carving. Kalushka pondered quietly as her blue eyes watched the clutch.

[Avu]

Wake up, Selenitas. Neisk's hatches. Candidates, if you are to stand for the Whers, please proceed to the Wherhandler's Apartments, where Kemma will meet you and send you in.

Meira sighed, still half-submerged in sleep, before the words truly registered. Then her pale gray eyes shot wide open; her mouth slipped half-open in a gasp, and she jolted to her feet, rocking unsteadily for a moment, her hand seeking instinctively some type of support as her head whirled from the sudden uprising. Grasping her bed frame, she felt her way to the Candidates Robes that she’d left on a chair nearby and slipped into them, quickly twitching them into shape before she automatically recited the directions to the Wherhandler’s Apartments. Left, right, then right again. Good.

She managed to make it to Kemma without looking like a major idiot or becoming lost, so that was an achievement. Meira rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, blinking as she tried to make herself a bit more presentable. Messy dark hair fell in odd waves around her shoulders, and there were circles under her eyes—not the way she’d anticipated being introduced to the clutch she might just Bond at.

Clenching her teeth, Meira filed in after the others, running a distracted hand through her hair and biting her lip, her glance swiveling automatically to the queen wher. The quite vibrating thrum of anticipation seemed oddly small, until Meira realized the only humming dragon seemed to be Kemma’s Mellith, along with the whers and some fire lizards. Well, that would explain it…she felt a bit irritated. Wasn’t any Hatching a cause for celebration? The fact that the dragons would be sleeping didn’t quite register.

Meira dipped into a half-bow to the queen wher. She was amazing. Like a dragon, but stronger—not as elegant or beautiful, no, and perhaps most people would be afraid. But still…her gaze flickered next to the eggs; Meira felt her breath catch eagerly. How beautiful, how wonderful…each egg held a wher. A tiny blossom of life—well, perhaps ‘blossom’ didn’t quite suit the whers. But it was still wonderful…

Her nose twitched; Meira managed to drag her gaze off of the eggs, only now registering the queasy terror she felt in her stomach. It seemed the scent of the food just now alerted it, as if her stomach was saying, You can’t eat. I feel sick. Don’t eat. She bit her lip harder, until her bottom lip turned white from the strain. She drew a quick breath, suddenly realizing she ought to have brought her own small blade. To blood a wher…

She was going to cut herself. And she was going to have to use a foreign knife to do it, too, apparently. Meira already missed the small weight of the knife belt at her hip, but she’d have to make do without it. Rocking back on her heels unsteadily, the Candidate cast anxious glances left and right. Surely she wasn’t the only one who felt so sick?

[flupine]

Wake up, Selenitas. Neisk's hatches. Candidates, if you are to stand for the Whers, please proceed to the Wherhandler's Apartments, where Kemma will meet you and send you in.

Whers? Whers?! WHERS!

Derrin seemed to be perpetually in motion even while asleep and while news of the Wher Hatching was assailing his mind, Derrin was already jumping from his cot to change into his formal Hatching Clothes, prepared to Impress some Whers. Or fight a major battle or impress a wher! Catching a glimpse of his ragged looking appearance, Derrin jerked to an abrupt halt, a quick finger brushing through his hair, a quick adjustment to his robes, a big adjust ment to his robes. A nervous adjustment to his robes. And one last final adjustment to make sure it was properly put on, nervous twitching for the most part but it made Derrin feel better, more important as if he actually had a chance of Impressing. Which of course he did, just like everyone else. Derrin simply needed to remember to keep telling himself that or else he might forget and think that he was too much of a failure, but he wasn't a failure. Derrin was... special.

Smiling giddily to himself, Derrin grabbed a knife on the way out the door- only Faranth knew how he remembered that small detail and out the door he went, running down the hall to be one of the first Candidates out of the Wherling Hall. "All that robe adjusting probably going to slow me down some though. " Frowning to himself, he picked up the pace in effort to be on of the very first students there, you know what they said. The early Wherry got the bird. Or the early bandits got caught by the night watch Wher. Or something.. this isn't the point. Derrin was running at this point probably as fast as he dared run, by himself, at night, knowing he would more than likely end up tripping over himself and he had a knife... somewhere on his person.

Reaching Kemma who stood guard at the door, Derrin pulled himself up to an abrupt halt, much to fast for Derrin to really control, which meant bad things to come. As if fate had taken over Derrin's actions at the last moment, he tripped up and in a tangle of limbs went sprawling headlong towards the door. "SHARDS! Watch out!" Helpless to stop, Derrin skidded to a halt in the dirt, dirt on his skin, on his glowing robes, in his hair, smudging his face. He didn't even have to see himself to see what a mess he was, he could feel it. And that was enough to set him off. He worked so hard to get his rob to look soooo nice. Tears immediately filled his eyes and threatened to boil over, while his hands reached up to desperately scrape the dirt off. "OH NO!! I was sooo clean!!!" Tears made tracks in the dirt that now covered his face and his dirty hands did nothing but rub the dirt in with the tears and make a mud paste to cake on his face. "I LOOK TERRIBLE NOW. NON OF THE WHERS WILL WANT SOMEONE... diirty." Chocking on his own words in a case that he clearly though was hopeless, Derrin cast a pleading look toward the door and then up to Kemma. "I am.... I am... SOOOOOO SORRY! I didn't get you dirty did I? Because that would be even worse, I don't think my heart can take anymore heartache, seriosly. Did I get you dirty? Because I am soo dirty now and none of the Whers will want me and the Mother wont let me near her precious Egg looking like this, will she Candidatemaster? OH by the first Egg, I AM SORRY. I didn't meant to tri[p and you dont want to be dirty for the Wher Impression either oh, I hooope you didn't get dirty." Derrin was incredibly long winded when he was distraught.

Draggin himself off the ground, Derrin began to paw through his pockets, not to say he had so many pockets but things did tend to get lost with Derrin. I have a knife!... somewhere... just a moment. I put it in my pocket, I swear I did. Maybe it fell out while I tripped? Mumbling to himself about sharding knives always slipping away from him while he was not looking, Derrin drifted unconsciously closer towards the door, while the candidates entered the door, probably unaware of what happened to him, he thought darkly. But with everyone else moving through the doorway, the temptaion and though of being late to the Hatching made Derrin give up the search, he was still thinking of the knife as he stepped through to gain entrance to the Hatchign area. Of Faranth. It was.... amazing. Derrin had seen a Hatching before but it seemed even better now. He wanted to run up and run caressing fingers across each shell but he hardly thought the Mother would welcome such an action. But they were.... magnificent. Truly. Some people did not think Whers were 'pretty' or any good but pretty was relative and if Whers were useless... well Derrin should just be put out of his misery. Standing in the room, lookign about in awe, the dirt stained Derrin swept toward Neisk with all the bearing he could manage.

Which would have worked perfectly except.... he tripped. Again. But he did manage to catch himself this time if that did get him any credit. Tired, exhausted form the emotional upheaval he just went through, Derrin bowed low and hopefully, just a little, regally, as he approached the mother repsectfully. There was enough todistance that Derrin did not think he was encrouching her territory but who knew?

"Hello Clutchmother. Sorry for my.. appearance. Thank you for this opportunity and thank you for being sucha wonderful Mother." Taking his turn bowing to both the Wher and her Handler, Derrin backed away to set his stare on the Clutch. As yes... the beautiful, lovely, magnificent, amazing, beyond imagination, Clutch.

[irbre]

Neisk looked up sharply when the Candidates began to arrive, filtering in slowly as Neirin smiled welcomingly. She was grateful that Kemma was present to keep the possible handlers in order, guiding them and directing them towards the goldhandler first. They all looked so small and anxious, Neirin realized, and almost laughed at the thought, her mind flicking back to the Hatching that she had attended not so long ago, even though it seemed like ages past. Fighting down a smile, Neirin leaned over to pluck up a few knives to hand out to the first who entered, eyes shifting over to watch the doorway. The Candidates were already arriving, thank goodness, for the eggs were starting to rock harder and harder.

The first one to enter was a boy, who dipped respectfully before both Neirin and Neisk, though the gold wher sniffed and recoiled slightly from him at first, as though sensing some disdain. Neirin wordlessly handed Piden a knife, watching out of the corner of her eye as he retrieved the largest hunk of meat possible. She was distracted, though, by a question, and focused her gaze on yet another person, smiling pleasantly. "Go ahead. Whers aren't for everyone," Neirin said in a colorless tone, though she somehow managed to convey the feeling that whers were the ones who chose in the end, and not everyone would bond. Without a second glance at the girl, she diverted her attention yet again to another Candidate, who was nervous looking and quick in her movements. Neisk snuffled her eggs for a moment, not truly bothering to pay attention to the Candidates, for she was far too busy with her eggs.

Neirin's gaze flicked over to Rilyer as he approached, handing him a knife and gesturing soundlessly to the klah and meatrolls if he was interested, and then to the larger bowl of meat. She couldn't help but smile when one of the Candidates helped himself to the fare, Neirin scooting over slightly to pluck up a cup of klah for herself, curling her hands around the warm pottery. Neisk glanced up again, nostrils flaring as she inspected the Candidates gathered around, finally taking them into notice. Her jewel-bright eyes followed the newly-arrived Candidates across the floor, paying particular attention to Kalushka, who she seemed to remember from before, if only by scent. Her gaze flicked to Meira seconds later, and, as if knowing that she was being admired, she rose slightly higher, chest puffing out, short wings flaring, the bright gold of her hide flashing as she took a step back from the Clutch as the rocking of the eggs intensified.

Her momentary preening was interrupted, though, by the sudden presence of Derrin. With a slight hiss she hopped to the side, alarm furling her wings once again, tail lashing in sudden anxiety. At least the words were meant to placate, though, and Neisk calmed slightly, the flare of yellow fading from her eyes to be replaced by a vibrant green. Looking content with the number present, the Queen padded over behind the Clutch, so that she was surveying both it and the Candidates at once, staring at the humans with an intense eye, almost daring them to mess up. Neirin smiled slightly, but the emotion faded, replaced by one of anxiety as a branching crack appeared in the side of one of the eggs.

It was the Harvest Moon Egg that began to move with the most vigor, rocking violently in its furry harbor, thick cracks appearing along the sides. Twitching energetically, a small piece of shell flaked away, a bit of brown-ish hide flashing momentarily before it retreated back into the darkness, the wherling within obviously not quite so intent on getting out now that it had had a taste of the air. Another egg, though, took the moment for its own. Long cracks had begun to spread along the sides of the Black Feline Egg, carefully working their way out from a center point. It took only a moment longer, and then the shell folded away, opening like a blossom as a dark form stretched from within.

The faint light of the glows shone eerily on the graceful, lithe lines of the wher that had emerged, highlighting the dark green body with strange accents of a much brighter, more vivid green. The small green stretched, apparently unconcerned with the world around her, but only for a moment. Noticing that she was apparently being watched, she immediately elongated her stretch, posing perfectly before coiling herself gracefully a moment later, making a show of preening herself. A soft croon from her mother urged her to her feet, and the green obeyed, though reluctantly. Clambering carefully to her feet, she padded past the Harvest Moon Egg, giving it a disdainful glance in passing. Whatever was within that egg was far, far beneath her. She deserved more. Head held high, the Black Feline Green stalked towards the Candidates, nostrils flaring, large eyes flashing as she inspected them each in turn. Behind her, a brown pair of toes had pushed themselves through the faintest of holes in the Harvest Moon Egg as the wher within struggled for freedom. Still other eggs began to move patiently in their individual nests, noises of stirring life rising through the silence punctuated by the croons of Neisk and the soft huffs of the green wherlet.

[wingrider]

Hennai grumbled about being late when a wher clutch was hatching! How dare she be so stupid! She didn't bother with her hair and kept on running. And at least twice she had to stop to catch her breath. Really. And she wanted to impress either a wher or dragon? She rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. She smiled sheepishly at the Wherhandler and bowed with respect. She stepped inside and stopped. At sight of the gold wher, she felt small and insignificant. It was an honor to be near a Queen Wher. She had been so anxious for the wher clutch to hatch and now? It was happening.

~~~

Trillian came right up behind Hennai. She stopped and took a few moments to catch her breath. She looked at the eggs and felt her excitement building up again. She had thought much about standing to bond with such a lovely creature as a wher. She glanced around at the others that also hoped to bond. She spotted the green wher and watched her. She had been to a few Wher hatchings. But they always came out surprising you.

[Ember]

Ceryl flinched slightly as the first piece of shell fell away from warmly coloured egg. She thought it was a brown but it could have been a bronze too she supposed. Her grip on the knife tightened but she knew it couldn't be used as a weapon against the young whers. She tried to force herself to relax. It might have worked too had it not been for the arrival of a green wherlet.

The green seemed more intent on showing off than Bonding though. Her attitude made Ceryl grin slightly, too busy watching the wherlet approaching the candidates to notice the brown foot sticking out or the movement of the other eggs. She felt like she was being judged. Well, she was judged everyday but this one seemed to actually matter. She shook off the feeling and turned her attention to a different egg, but still vaguely paying attention to the wandering green.

Her eyes fell on a barely moving egg that gave off a creepy vibe. Black and red mixed on the surface of the shell. She didn't why she was drawn to the angry egg but she was. It was only twitching a little and it didn't exactly look like a pleasant egg. Ceryl blinked and managed to look away from the egg and back to the graceful green wherlet.

[weaving]

A few more candidates came in behind him, though Jermayan paid them little mind. There was only one thing that mattered right now and that was the imminent hatching of the clutch. He went through the motions of nibbling at his roll and sipping at the warm cup of klah, but his attention was devoted elsewhere, leaving his body to simply run through the motions.

The movement of the queen caught his attention and he walked as she moved behind her clutch, though it felt as though he gaze never left the candidates. Indeed, she seemed to be watching them with a wary eye, and why shouldn’t she? These were her children after all. He recognized the look often enough from treating sick children while their mother hovered over them protectively.

And then the eggs began to truly show signs of hatching, led by the Harvest Moon Egg. The creature within seemed determined to emerge first and as the egg chipped away, his eyes caught glimpses of a hide that seemed brownish in color. Of course, it was rather dark so, perhaps bronze? Either way, the gathered crowd would find out soon enough.

Or not.

The Black Feline Egg stole the spotlight, quickly breaking open to reveal one of the most elegant creatures he’d ever seen. The green that now preened and posed before them was graceful in her movements, rare for a newly hatched creature. She seemed to thrive on the attention that everyone paid her, more intent on parading herself around than on making a choice.

Having had his fill of the creature, he focused once more on the green’s unhatched siblings. The Harvest Moon Egg seemed closer to hatching, but the Reaper Egg had begun showing signs of life as well and the Living Dead Egg was picking up pace and had created a crack down one side of the shell. Would one of those eggs hatch next? Or would it be one of the others?

As he speculated, he kept one eye on the Black Feline Green. He’d rather not get in her way because he had been lost in thought. That certainly wouldn’t end well. And of course, if she chose one of the candidates, it wouldn’t be very polite not to offer congratulations in some way.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Jermayan glanced around, surveying the expressions of the others. Some looked more excited than the rest, while a few looked rather queasy, probably from thinking about using the kinfe on themselves. Well, tonight would prove interesting.

[Avu]

Meira’s dark eyes were wide, eager, as she stared from the queen wher to the eggs. Oh, the queen was beautiful, but the eggs were awe-inspiring in their own way—not least because in one of those shells, her Bonded might, just might, be waiting—waiting for her? Her heart jumped into her throat as she clenched her fist over the knife she’d been given: It felt odd and foreign. Her knife hilt had been much slimmer. As she raised her eyes, she smiled at Neisk’s puffing-up—of pride? She mouthed soundlessly, ‘Thank you,’ fully aware the queen probably didn’t notice.

Staring at the queen was a bad idea, she realized instantly, as the wher hissed. For a sick moment, Meira thought the sharp noise had been directed at her, along with the anxiety, but as she followed Neisk’s gaze, she realized a rather—well, there seemed no word to quite fit him. But at least it wasn’t her being hissed at.

As the eggs began to twitch even more enthusiastically, Meira drew in her breath, scooting slightly closer, curiously; her pale eyes widened as she curled her hands into fists, willing the occupant of the Harvest Moon Egg to come out. The flash of brown was nearly missed as she blinked, but it had been there! She could feel the cold hilt of the knife digging into her palm—if there were any carvings on it, they would no doubt be imprinted onto her palm by now. She didn’t feel it, though, so intent was she upon the eggs.

They were wonderful, beautiful—beyond imagining. Meira’s gaze darted to the Black Feline Egg, staring intently as the shell fractured, fell apart, and a dark green wherlet with brighter green markings stretched out—like a languid feline, Meira thought, watching her, head tilted to one side, her pale eyes bright, excitement and terror coursing through her. Did whers maul Candidates? She had never thought to ask…

Of course they had to Blood, but that wasn’t the same as mauling…she clenched her hand tighter still around the knife’s hilt, glad for the cool metal. Meira sighed despite herself, longingly gazing at the green. She was pretty—so pretty. The Candidate managed to look around at the other eggs, which were now stirring; the Harvest Moon Egg’s occupant’s toes were visible. She smiled; for some reason, the idea amused, calmed, her rather than inciting her adrenaline-fueled excitement.

[flupine]

Derrin was glad that he had been accepted by the Clutchmother after she had gotten her so angry. He didn't know what he had done, said something or done something...maybe it was the tripping? Something had definitely gone wrong though and for a brief moment tears had filled his eyes at the thought of angering Neisk. Anything but angering the mother of a potential Whermate. The thought was horrible in itself but the moment that she calmed down and became happier, Derin could fill his own mood lifted. She accepted him... surely then one of those eggs would hold a precious life in it that would want him. Most definitely.

As did the other Candidates, Derrin turned with delighted eyes to focus his entire mind on the Hatching. That was all he was worried about right now, the Eggs. Each Egg that started the crack made Derrin suck in his breathe wildly as if he was hoping one of the Eggs would burst open, reveal the perfect Wher. EVER. and then it would choose him. Okay, so that may not happen but knowing Derrin, he would be waiting with bated breathe for something to happen. Hopefully something great would happen. And it was happening. The Black Feline Egg hatched first and Derrin wanted to jump up and down and cheer for it, cheer for himself also. He wanted to talk to it and let it know that he was there, Derrin was waiting. But he knew he couldn't do that, even Derrin knew that, the tension and hope that filled the room forbade it.

Impatient but decidedly still... for Derrin, which did include a little shaking and maybe a slight rocking back and forth on his heels, Derrin watched the other Eggs and the Green Wher, trying to divide his attention between them though it was all but impossible for Derrin to do, his head jerking back and forth looking between the Green Wher in slight aggravation that it wasn't choosing and putting him out of his misery and with hope at the Eggs. The Harvest Moon was catching his attention with the little toes peeking out from beneath the shell and then the other Eggs were already fighting for his attention. Where should he look... where... which one...? The Green Wher? That was wher most of his attention was focused but then it kept drifting.... oh dear Faranth, this was too much for Derrin to take in at once.

[Ruby]

Kemma
Kemma had to literally keep herself from laughing by stuffing a hand in her mouth when Derrin went sprawling at her feet. It was just the highly-charged atmosphere that made her react so strongly- normally she was good at covering up that sort of thing, but not at the moment. She did recover in time to bend down and try to help the boy up, although he began to cry before Kemma had even squatted down all the way.

She put a hand on Derrin's back, rubbing it in little circles, trying to comfort. It seemed he would not be comforted, however, so Kemma let him speak. Sometimes that was best. When he had finally talked himself out, the Candidatemaster jumped in as fast as possible, practically talking over his last few syllables. "Oh, Derrin, I wouldn't worry. Neither Dragons nor Whers will care if you're dirty- and I'm clean enough. I'll have Mellith let Neisk know it was an accident. I'm sure she'll understand."

Mellith cleared her throat at this. I will do no such thing.

That made Kemma smile, as Derrin got to his feet. Mellith liked everyone, Whers included, even though most dragons didn't- Mel objected to interrupting Neisk's concentration at this vital moment. I wouldn't ask you to, dear. Only if Neisk throws a fuss, please. You may tell Neirin instead, if it makes you more comforable. Kemma grinned again as Mellith humphed, and followed the present Candidates inside. No sense in standing in the hall- Mellith would send in any stragglers. A quick visual count came up with around 10 candidates, which was good enough. Most people should be present by now. And as it turned out, Mellith didn't need to speak to Neisk at all- Derrin had been accepted well enough. Good start.


Piden and Raila
Piden was feeling more confident, now that there were other candidates here. He knew they'd be following, of course, but being the first into the room was a little nerve-wracking. It helped, as strange as it sounded, to see other candidates clutching their knives. That way, it seemed less like he was standing here alone with a Wher and her Rider, with a knife. That could only be bad, right? Now he didn't feel so alone.

Ralia, on the other hand, was feeling worse. She seemed to be the only spectator, besides the Handler and Kemma. She hadn't intended to insult Neisk or Neirin with her presence, that wasn't the point at all. She had just expected... well, she'd expected more spectators, like at a Dragon hatching. So she could blend into the crowd, not stand out in mute condemnation of Whers and their Handlers, like she must be doing now. So she just nodded to Neirin, feeling and looking- quite chastized, and instead took a place on one wall, away from the clutch and the potential Handlers. Spotting Meira, she waved, although she wasn't surprised that her fellow Candidate didn't see her. For someone looking to Impress, the Clutch was much more exciting. Shifting her gaze, Raila smiled- the eggs were rocking, it was beginning.

Piden, too, was watching the eggs now, eyeing each one carefully as some showed signs of movement. When the first one cracked his heart leapt into his throat- that was a bronze! No, maybe a brown, he couldn't tell anymore. The gnarled leg had retreated, and Piden couldn't see anymore, not enough to make a decision anyway. He wondered, idly, if the saying that if a Bronze hatched first the clutch was lucky held for Whers, although it had originally applied for Dragons.

Either way, the Candidate and the spectator both had their attention diverted almost immediately. Piden's eyes tracked the Green hatchling almost as avidly as Raila's did. She knew Meira wanted a green- how wonderful if the first one to hatch went to her! And such a beautiful specimin, too. A moment of wistfulness crossed Raila's mind, and features- if Meira did Impress, she'd be the lone girl left at their final Lesson. But still, she wished the best for her.

Piden wasn't so hopeful- Greens were fine and all, he'd love one, but honestly- if there were another girl here that wanted her more, Piden was fine with that. He'd survive. Clutching the knife a little tighter in his fist, though, he allowed himself a moment of speculation. What if he did Impress her, if she did come to him? He knew he'd be the happiest young man alive, maybe even the happiest person. To share that kind of bond with any Wher, any Dragon, of any color, would be beyond his wildest dreams. Out of the farm forever, and with a permanent friend and confidante... even if, in a Wher's case, it was just feelings they shared, not thoughts. Piden settled himself, loosening his grip on the kinfe a little, and smiled. He was good at waiting.