Hatching of the Tidal Seas Clutch

[Tashe]

Twilight. A time where Humans and Dragons a like start to settle down for sleep, and a time where Whers begin to stir for their watch hours. A quiet time, that isn't disturbed by much movement, but little did the Weyr know... this Twilight would one would be very busy. Once again, the Gold and her Rider shared this time together, wanting to stay as close as they could for the longest time possible. The days since the Clutching had burnt away, like the wick on a candle, reducing the time till the hatching to nothing more than a constant and unwavering presence. It could happen at any moment, and one could almost feel the tension in the air, whether it be good or bad. In Kaegan's case, it was a mixture of both. Not only did she worry about how the clutch would turn out, she thought constantly about the Candidates who had come to call, hoping that each of them had an equal chance at impressing... and that those who had stood many times before, finally bonded. Though, those were only a few of the thoughts that swirled around her head, the closer they got to the due date... the more that popped into her head.

Nodding slightly as the heat of the sands made her drowsy, the Junior Weyrwoman yawned, letting her hand run over the Bronze Flitter that napped in her lap. Millieth had allowed Azaran onto the Couch after much haggling, resulting in Kaegan having to bathe Millieth everyday for the next two weeks, not something she was exactly looking forward to. Tck..tck.... Tilting her head to the side, Kaegan furrowed her brows, she was sure Azaran was asleep... so what was making that noise? Twisting her neck so she could view both sets of the Gold's talons, the Weyrwoman shook her head slightly, coming to the conclusion she had simply been hearing wrong. She was on the verge of dozing off anyways, she had to have just imagined it. But no... there it was again, and only when the soft 'tcking' noise appeared once more, did Kaegan pick up on the low thrumming. The thing that had truly snapped her out of her sleeping trance.

"Oh gosh! Azzie, Azzie wake up. Go spread the word to the places the farthest away, but go to the Candidate Barracks first! The hatching is beginning!" Nudging him awake, the Queenrider found she had to repeat herself to the Flitter before he could Between to do what she had asked. "Why does this always have to happen around Nighttime! We are probably making people change right back into their daytime clothing." She had to change! Thinking about clothing had made the Weyrwoman realize she wasn't exactly presentable, in her custom cut up breaches and shirt. Letting herself out the side door and down the hall at a bracing run, Kaegan slid to a halt in front of an empty storeroom. It took her little more than a few minutes to shed her clothing and change into the dress she had picked up on her way out, allowing her to be back in the Hatching arena before she was missed. Sorting through her travel pack, the Goldrider pulled out her shoulder Knots and her white hair clips, fastening the knots onto her Gold and Blue dress before trying to tame her hair with the flower pins. Kaegan tried to say 'Shard my curly hair', but since most of her pins occupied her mouth, it actually came out to sound like, "Fard fy furly fed fair."


---------------------

Tidal Clutch

Rip Curl- Green Salaminth - Betweened
High Tide- Brown Behruth - M'ta/Mutasim
Crashing Waves- Blue Qualuth- K'iel/ Kariel
Deep Water- Green Wymeth - Vashti
Warm Current- Green Oquith - Tr'esn/ Trilesn
Cold Current- Blue Kloth - F'neth/Ferneth
Dark Fissure- Bronze Aberath - Ki'ner/Kishanner
Low Tide- Brown Checkoth - R'wign/Rawign
Under Tow- Blue Glenth - V'neti/Vayaneti (APC)
Tidal Wave- Green Uminth - Kalina
Open Ocean- Blue Imprith - Raila

[Ember]

Ferneth awoke to the sound of others waking up and a firelizard screeching as it zipped through the barracks while transmitting an image of eggs. The sleep-muddled brain of the candidate didn't immediately register the meaning but when he did he all but leaped out of bed and dashed for the chest. Neatly folded on the top of his little pile in the chest was his white candidate robe. He snatched it as Sloth muttered something sleepily before going back to sleep again. He quite simply did not want to move. That suited Ferny fine as he abandoned modesty to change as quickly as he could.

He inspected himself once he finished changing. The robe was a little too short at the sleeves and he pulled on them slightly. Oh well. There was no time to fix them for the dragons were hatching and he couldn't miss that! He spared a glance for the other candidates before all but sprinting down to the lowest level and getting himself a boat. He felt a bit bare without it on his hip but he'd left the dagger he received from Mutasim in his chest. There should be no need for it...right?

Some time later he arrived at the Hatching Sands and looked around for Kemma. She would be the one to lead them onto the Sands, or so Ferneth assumed. He waited impatiently. He wanted desperately to have it over already and see if he Impressed and who else might. He took a few deep breathes but they did nothing to calm his nerves. He tapped his leg with his hand and looked about him at the others.

[glamourie]

Stir, stir, stir. Rawign twirled the stirring spoon carefully, mixing the contents of the jar he was holding. Leaning back against one of the desks, the healer looked for all the world as if he was asleep. His hair was brushed back out of his face and he was dressed neatly enough but he was tired and it showed. He'd only been awake about a candlemark, a hazard of being mostly nocturnal by nature. The first thing he did was check the supplies and on the patients that were stuck over night. All of them were fine for the most part, nothing the apprentices couldn't handle, and he trusted them to take care of the minor work. Secretly he was of the opinion that that was what they existed for - to do the grunge work. Certainly it had seemed that way when he was an apprentice and he was very, very glad to have gotten his knots and no longer have to deal with that stress. He got to be manager... most of the time. Although at the current moment, Kali was in charge... not that he minded at all. Hooray. Stir, stir. Too bad that most of the time the night shift was boring - and when it wasn't he found himself regretting his earlier complaints. Either boring or completely chaotic. Nothing in moderation.

Peeking over the edge of his jar, Rawign scrunched up his nose. Why did most herbal tea combinations smell strange? What he wouldn't have done for one that didn't. He sighed, pulling the stirring stick out of the jar when ---

SCREEEEEEEECH!!

Startled, Rawign fumbled the jar and spilled the contents all down his front, only to hiss in pain from the warmth of the water. The jar itself fell from his hands and shattered, splashing against his legs. One hand moved up to his chest in surprise and he looked up just as an image of a conglomeration of eggs flashed through his mind, highlighted by twilight. SHARD IT! His eyes narrowed on the bronze firelizard as he disappeared between again and Rawign knelt down to scoop up the broken fragments of his jar, cursing under his breath the entire time. Why did eggs have to hatch at the most inconvenient times? Why? Why couldn't they just tell everyone three days in advance what time they were going to hatch? Muttering to himself, he threw out his mess.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," he repeated as he pulled the sopping wet and tea-laden shirt from his back. Then he threw it into the waste along with everything else before yelling across the infirmary - with no regard for sleeping patients (He was having a minor crisis!), "Have to go, sorry Kalierre!"

No response was waited for as Rawign made a straight path out of the infirmary and back to the candidate barracks. He rarely used his side of the trunk but his robes and proper footwear were there simply because it was closer than Marra's apartment and most of his time was spent near the candidate barracks anyway. Without a hint of modesty, he changed into the white linen robe, cursing under his breath about how ugly it was and why white was not his color. Shoes were added and both of his firelizards yelled at to STAY PUT! (Roxie and Stumpy both turned to scold him defiantly, but did stay where they were told) before he turned around and -- noticed that he was not running as late as he thought. Some of his panic diminished and he found his way toward the exit of the candidate barracks, waiting for others to make their way out, to avoid pushing and shoving. Only when he reached the entrance did his demeanor change and he noticed...

... that he smelled funny. Like a mixture of mint, floral fragrances, something distinctly alcoholic and an underlying edge of medical supplies. His entire face broke out into a cringe and he stopped, both hands smoothing down his robe.

"... I stink..."

[reqqy]

Amidst all the half-awake bustling in the barracks, Mutasim was - going the wrong direction. Sleep at the proper hours? Faranth forbid! The young man didn't bother to obey curfew even with Kemma around to get on his case. Why would he do so when she was in the infirmary - and while he did feel some mild sympathy, if only because he knew how absolutely infuriating it was to be confined, Mutasim couldn't say he felt guilty at all for being annoyed with her about the Touching. And now the Hatching. He and Rawign would likely be playing babysitter again. Oh. Goody.

"You're staying here, right?" he asked his brown sternly. Jabari just cocked his head to one side. Mutasim wasn't at all convinced by the innocent act. "Fine. Do what you will. I'm not going to bother sticking up for you if Millieth tries to eat you, though." The firelizard huffed softly and curled up on his bed. Taking another swift glance around the room, the candidate divested himself of his blades - on the off-chance that the gold would somehow know and throw a fit - and ferreted for his candidate's robe. This was really the only plus thus far, as far as growth went; the robe didn't dwarf him quite as much.

White, though. Oh well. Still strangely calm - but then, he'd been to four of these before, so it wasn't exactly novel - Mutasim tugged on the boots he'd managed to...borrow. A little big, but they'd do. Now he just looked like some little brother walking around in his sibling's clothes, rather than a midget amongst giants. That would change with Ferneth and Rawign, he was sure. Speak of the devil. The surge pushed him forward, and there was the older, taller candidate, just outside the entrance. Mutasim scrunched up his nose. Shells. What was that smell?

He couldn't help but snicker a little at Rawign's comment. "Yeah. Just a bit. Hurry it up, healer. I'll hold a boat for you, but I can't promise that I can keep it up for long. They're like animals." Might as well stick together. They were outnumbered by all the nervous, eager first-time candidates as it was, and separated they were certain to be overwhelmed. Or so Mutasim told himself. Faranth forbid there be anything like comraderie somewhere in that mix.

Mutasim managed to shoulder his way to one of the boats, waving a few of the candidates on to other ones - those candidates who hadn't already left with the main body. He glanced back at the entrance to the barracks impatiently. It was bothersome, having to ward people off. He certainly wished that Rawign would get himself in gear.

[dreamer]

The fire lizard's shriek and image of eggs jolted Brulen off his bunk where he had been slowly and carefully reading his way through a scroll.


It was not a graceful exit, he only remembered he was in the top bunk when his feet did not find the floor where they expected it to be. Fortunately he had the bunk to himself so he didn’t land on anyone as he landed in an awkward crouch on the floor.


The white robe was as confining and strange feeling as he remembered, how did women manage to move with fabric binding their legs together like this? At least it was the rght size, he wouldn’t look a complete fool in the Hatching Grounds.


The adrenaline was zinging through him and his stomach was quickly knotting up. He felt like the other candidates looked as they pulled on their robes and tried to get out the door as quickly as possible.


As he left Brulen made sure every bunk was empty just in case Pern’s deepest sleeper was a Candidate. No one who wasn’t a world class sleeper could sleep through this ruckus!


Everyone looked different, either pale or flushed in their white robes. The thrumming sound of what seemed like every dragon in the Weyr and the sounds of many excited people was a constant assault making him want to fight. Or run.

[wirevix]

Kariel was awakened by multiple factors. First and foremost, the screeching of a totally unexpected firelizard racing through the barracks, along with a confusing image of eggs that the sleeping boy did not immediately understand. Secondly, the noise of other candidates rising from their beds at the flitter's message. And third, the smell of something unpleasant and medicine-y from quite near to his bunk. None of these stimuli immediately made sense in his brain and he laid there for several seconds, staring at the ceiling in confusion. He'd gone to bed early because he was worn out, hadn't really eaten enough the day before he supposed, and now he was very disoriented.

Everything snapped into place--well, except the source of that detestible smell--within a moment. Eggs. Eggs. The clutch! He tried to get out of bed in too much of a hurry, rolling, and almost fell right off the edge. He managed to swing himself down slightly more gracefully than that, at least, landing with an awkward thump. He stripped hurriedly and pulled on his candidate's robes, too intent on what he was doing to notice anyone else.

It wasn't until he turned to head to the door that he realized Rawign was the source of the nasty smell. He didn't say what first popped into his head, keeping his mouth shut as he headed out the door and hurried for a boat. He couldn't be left behind, that would just be the end of everything he was sure, because he would never get the confidence up to try again. At least he thought he wouldn't, it was just too scary of a thought to go there when he wasn't half-asleep.

He glanced around himself at the others as he reached the edge of the Sands. He was still rubbing at his eyes and trying to wake up, though he thought maybe he shouldn't bother attempting. He would only be more panicked once he was fully awake. But at least he was here. He hadn't frozen up on the way here. That was important. So very, very important.

He tried to get a glimpse of the eggs, but it was impossible--he couldn't see around anyone else really, too short. Well, he doubted there was much to see yet. He'd seen the clutch before after all, nothing would have changed yet... not yet. But soon.



Trulurve, in all the meanwhile, took a bit more to awaken. He was one of the last ones out of bed, and definitely the last one into his robe. He was sleepy and confused, and even when others were heading out the door and figuring out what was going on, he had no idea why he was getting changed. He ran on autopilot, not really awake, following along in his robes--though they were bunched and sort of pulled half to the side, slumping off his shoulder--after the other candidates.

He gave Rawign and Mutasim a wave as he passed the two lagging boys, heading down to a boat. It wasn't until he was nearly to the Sands that he realized what was going on, and why that crazy fire lizard had shown him--and everyone else--an image of eggs.

"Oh wow it's the Hatching it's really happening!" he spouted for the benefit of all the other candidates near to him, and probably those not so near either thanks to his volume. He was awake instantly, bright-eyed and bouncing on his toes as he peered in at the eggs over the heads of some of the shorter candidates. "Oh wow it's so exciting I can't wait until everything starts happening oh wow oh wow!"

He didn't stop talking, though he did try to back his volume down a little, chattering on to express his excitement to everyone that would listen, and also those that would rather not but were effectively a captive audience to his nattering.

[Tashe]

"Sharding shard frackbracking?!" It was a rather unpleasant feeling to be woken up from the middle of a nap, one that the Weyrlingmaster really did need, by a exuberant voice in your head. And yet, that was exactly the way that Styth had decided to wake the man up, by being loud and excited. /Mine! Mine! Kemma is in the Infirmary and you are next in line to direct the Candidates in! THE HATCHING MINE WAKE UP./ F'rah's reaction was almost immediate, and the loud clatter of his wooden chair as it hit the floor directed attention to the fact he had stood up a little too quickly. Clutching his head with one hand, the Brownrider thanked Farnath that the Weyrling Barracks were right next to the Hatching arena, and the door wasn't to far away. Go watch, thanks for waking me Styth. /Right!/

Wrenching his office door open, F'rah nearly tripped over himself as he leapt out into the hallway, his head felt like he had been doing barrel rolls for the last hour. But, he hadn't... so the dizziness had to be attributed to the fact that he was getting sick. Walking as fast as his head would allow him too, the Weyrlingmaster began to run the Candidate's names through his head, hoping he hadn't forgotten anyone. It took a little longer than he would have liked to get to the door, but he wasn't going to complain, he just wanted to get it over with so he could circle back around the Hatching Arena and take up his position near the door to the feeding area. It was time to take the new generation of students' names... Hatching...

"Farnath... its Hatching time." He really hadn't thought about the event until now, and the realization jerked him awake, and just in time too. Nearing the door F'rah came to a stop near the entrance, looking down on all of the collected Candidates, lowering his voice to talk. "Candidatemaster Kemma is in the Infirmary. I am Weyrlingmaster F'rah. I expect you to remain courteous and adhere to what you have learned in your Candidate lessons. Like Kemma, I will not tolerate tomfoolery. Now, if your ready, I shall open the doors. File /quietly/ onto the sands in a single file, and then line up along the wall." Nodding slightly as he eyed the Candidates, the Brownrider pushed against the large double doors, causing them to swing open just enough to allow two people through if they were attached at the shoulder.

[glamourie]

Mutasim's voice made Rawign look up and he quirked an eyebrow in surprise. However, he didn't question the other candidate's seemingly strange behavior, instead moving his way through the exiting candidates. There was one distinct advantage to smelling poor. He was able to clear quite a path and he made his way to the boat easily enough. Evidently most of the people who noticed were smart enough not to comment. Rawign wasn't entirely sure he could keep himself from pushing someone into the river if they commented. It wasn't his fault Azaran had frightened him and he fully intended to scold the firelizard at a later date - it was not funny to startle him that way. Why couldn't he just fly in quietly? Shard it shard it shard it. Needless to say, Rawign was displeased -- hatchings tended to spook him in general but going to one smelling like... some kind of disturbing tea mix was anything but pleasant. Clearly fate had it out for him. He muttered curses under his breath the entire way, though his gaze flicked at someone... waving... at him. He did not wave back. He didn't even know the kid.

His nerves were fried. Climbing into the boat, Rawign waited for Mutasim to climb in. Then he steered the boat across the river, making a point not to comment, though his gaze flicked down to the shoes the other candidate wore. Though it was comical in appearance, at least he wasn't barefoot again or Rawign might have shoved Mutasim head first into the river. He was not going to be up to bandaging the other boy's feet after the hatching. He just wasn't. He wasn't even sure he was up to the hatching itself.

"I'm spending the hatching hiding near you, by the way." Just for revenge for Mutasim laughing at his smell. Vindictive, who, Rawign? Yes, yes he was. Climbing out of the boat as they docked, he cast a glance at the other candidate before half-dashing up to the cluster of people outside the hatching sands, just to hear F'rah's instructions. So they weren't completely late. Good. He brought one hand to his forehead and then shuffled around to get into the back of the line, without turning around to see if Mutasim was still coming. As far as he was concerned, so long as the other boy was on the Sands, he was incapable of escaping, and Rawign fully intended to lurk near him and... well, reek. That and he was pretty sure Mutasim was the only person on the Sands that wouldn't make him feel completely inadequate, whether he Impressed or not; after all, he'd been Standing longer than Rawign had, either way.

Though... had the Weyrlingmaster said 'tomfoolery'? Snickering to himself, Rawign brought one hand up to cover his mouth and edged upward in the line until they were on the Sands. Immediately he turned to bow to Millieth before entering further, then as instructed edged over to the wall... though he had no intention of maintaining a neat and organized shooting line. Dragon hatchlings tended to be unpredictable. He fully intended to hide behind Mutasim. Behind, not next to. That way he at least had a meat buffer if one of them decided to come after him...

[Ember]

Ferneth looked at the others, watching them curiously. He tried to get a sense of how nervous the others were. Some rushed around in the candidate barracks, others calmly made their way through the craziness, and some had already reached the edge of the Sands. Slowly others joined him and the other few there and he smiled at them even though he was not in a mood to do so.

The sudden outburst of another candidate in particular made Ferneth grin inwardly. He felt like making the exact same statement. Still, he wished they could go in and see the eggs. Surely that would make things seem quicker than standing outside of the grounds. Fortunately a man came claiming to be F'rah and reminded them that Kemma had been injured. Oh dear. That's right. Ferneth had forgotten at first that she had been hurt. He bit his lip. He'd seen her in the infirmary too. Apparently the night air was making him silly.

The were ushered inside and Ferneth really turned into a bundle of nerves. A slight shiver ran along his spine and he too bowed to Millieth, the clutchmother, before lining up along the wall. This was his first Hatching but he'd heard of candidates being killed before by the young dragons. He noticed that his hands were shaking so he clasped them together in front of him and set out to wait for the first hatchling to break its shell.

[wirevix]

Kariel almost whimpered when F'rah came to tell them how to proceed. He watched the others going in and bowing and followed along, trying his best to just shut his mind down and completely forget where he was and what he was doing. He bowed to Millieth without looking up, if he didn't look up it wasn't quite as terrifying, and shuffled over to line up neatly with the others. He resisted the urge to curl up into a tight little ball of fear and finally forced himself to look up, focusing on the eggs.

It was easier to look there, at least. The eggs didn't scare him as bad as the dragons or even the other people. At least not yet, they hadn't really hatched yet. But once they did... then they would probably be completely terrifying, he supposed. He just had to hope that he got through it without being... harmed. He knew that could happen. Maybe. Maybe if he made himself look small and harmless--well, that at least wasn't difficult--he wouldn't be attacked by a young dragon.

He had the feeling it wouldn't help much but at least he wasn't the most noticeable one there. That would probably be his bunkmate, seeing as he currently smelled absolutely horrible and everyone in the line was sure to realize it as the smell had time to gradually permeate the air. Kariel just kept his eyes focused on the eggs silently. He could recall each one he'd been brave enough to touch and it was those ones that his eyes went to, twitching between them all nervously.

He just hoped he didn't get hurt. Impressing or not was a very secondary concern at this point. Oh please just don't let one of them kill me.



Trulurve's thoughts were radically different as he made his way onto the Sands, bowing to Millieth and taking his place in line. His thoughts focused not on what might happen if things went wrong, but rather on how right they would go. He didn't know what would hatch out of each egg and he didn't mind not knowing at all, because they would all be grand. He wanted to see what dragons everyone got and he wanted to meet his own--even though he knew there was a good chance there would be no dragon there for him, his mind just shoved that information away into a corner and ignored it.

The dragon for him had to be somewhere down there, because he couldn't consider anything else. His confidence had gotten him this far. It would get him farther. He was determined to believe in it, to believe in himself. He smiled brightly, hopping a little from foot to foot in his place in line.

He glanced at the other candidates all around, looking at each of them. He hoped everyone got lucky, even if there were actually too many. Somehow things would turn out okay, somehow or other. The world was full of surprises, why couldn't there be a surprise this time?

[reqqy]

He spared a suspicious glance at the man tower waving at them, figuring he must be addressing the other man-giant who reeked. Giants must stick together, right? Just so long as he didn't come over here - Mutasim could only handle so many colossal teenagers at once, thank you much. He didn't, and that was fine with Muta. Climbing in the boat after Rawign with relative grace, considering how awkward his attire was, he allowed Rawign the oars. He was fairly certain he could have them moving faster...although that just might be the simple fact that it always seemed to take more time when you had to sit around and wait. At any rate, he didn't mind putting off the Hatching as long as humanly possible. He'd go. It was insane not to, for multiple reasons, not the least of which being that a part of him wanted to despite his certainty that this would end as all the others had - and the simple fact that there were people who would drag him on the sands if he decided to skip.

The joy of knowing so many weyrlings and young dragonriders from previous hatchings.

"What?" he squeaked. And yes, it was a squeak. Mutasim didn't quite realize that they'd come to a stop. Not immediately. His mind had been elsewhere. "Hey, wait!" he called out, but Rawign was already off and scurrying. The young man sniffed and clambored out of the boat, but, of course, that's when his robe decided to snag, and Mutasim tumbled over the edge. Okay, so he was more nervous than he would like to admit to himself. Cursing softly, he picked himself up out of the shallows, plucking at the dampened - and somewhat muddied - candidate's robe. Well...shard it, he wasn't about to head back for a clean one. Clearing as much of the mud off as he possibly could with his hands, Mutasim walked toward the gathered candidates, muttering the entire way under his breath.

Yes, concentrating on his various misfortunes and discomforts helped keep his mind off the fact that he was headed back onto the Sands for a fifth round of rejection. At least this time he had company. Smelly, bothersome company, that he'd really rather stood far enough away as to not insult Mutasim's nose, but he supposed he couldn't be too terribly picky. He didn't even hear most of what F'rah said, but he stared at the Weyrlingmaster incredulously just the same. Since when had they started standing against the wall? Then you had nowhere to go if a hatchling decided it didn't like you. Yes, there were maulings quite frequently at these things, and while he wouldn't protest to any sort of acknowledgment from a dragon, Mutasim would rather not die on these sands because he couldn't get away.

Fortunately, the idea of confronting F'rah without a knife was more immediately frightening, so he kept his mouth shut and filed meekly onto the Sands, being sure to bow to Millieth this time. And attempting to ignore the close press of eager bodies. Mutasim shuddered a little. He wasn't staying against this wall very long. For now, yes, but once things got going, F'rah would be far less likely to chase him around the sands. He shifted nervously, glancing at the eggs, then back at Millieth.

Mutasim took a deep, stabilizing breath. Okay. This was fine. He was fine.

[dreamer]

All he had learned in the one lesson he had taken was the rules Candidates were supposed to follow! How could the knowledge he was barely above a drudge in the Weyr ranking system help here?

In his turn Brulen bowed politely to the Queen and took his place in the line of Candidates. Someone here knew what they were doing. Hopefully it wasn’t just the first candidate in the line, with all the ones following imitating them.

He chewed the inside of his lip to hide a grin as he imagined the first candidate stopping to shake sand out of his sandal and everyone following him carefully imitating the motion. It wasn’t that funny but it was better then thinking of all the weyr folk behind him or the queen looming above her eggs. After this, meeting a girlfriends parents wouldn’t ever bother him.

[shadowreine]

How many times had Keloran done this before? Too many. Any more than one was too many. But he was surprisingly calm. Robe on, sandals on. There were worse times for the humming to begin to thrum through the Weyr. Twilight. True, it was his free time, but they could have decided to crack shell at four in the morning. This time, at least, he was awake, alert and as ready as he could be. The wherhandlers were probably grateful it was not the middle of the day.

There, the belt around his robe was tied, the entrance to the barracks not far away. The shirt he had been darning, more to relax than anything else, neatly folded and placed on his bunk. Unless he was lucky, he would finish it the next day.

Walk, don't run to the Hatching grounds. Don't run, don't run. Across the river...don't fall in. He'd seen that happen to a candidate in a hurry...and while he was a good swimmer, he didn't want to arrive soaking wet (those robes became see through!). He also didn't want to fall flat on his face on the hot Sands. Don't forget to breathe.

Focus. Focus. It would be over soon and back to the barracks for him. Why did he even try? Because he was weyrbred. It was what he had to do. It was what he was.

He was a failure. He was starting to accept that, but his father never would. Never would allow him to try something else, something he might actually have a chance at. The Sands, and the people, and the thrum, thrum, thrum, the humming becoming almost a part of him, and Shard it. Don't hope. Don't hope. The only thing hope brought was pain. Not hoping meant that any surprises would be pleasant.

But Shard it, he wanted to Impress, he wanted it so badly he could taste it along with the drifting grains of sand and his own sweat, the sweat of the heat the Hatching grounds held after a long day and of his nerves. Shard it. Don't be nervous. There was no sense to it.

Shard it, though, he couldn't help but hope again. Bronze, brown, blue...at this point, he'd even take a green. He'd almost take a blind dragon or a deaf one. Then, only then, only when he was a rider could he feel any kind of pride.

"Get it over with and Hatch," he murmured, probably loud enough to be heard by a nearby candidate or three. They were shivering, moving, but he saw no cracks yet. Come on, kids. Get out here.

[Tashe]

Wiping his brow of sweat, F'rah looked down the corridor for more Candidates, most of the teens had come and the rest would just have to be counted late. He had to go make sure that the meat baskets were ready for use and that the drudges had been chopping them correctly, he couldn't wait much longer. Shifting uncomfortably as he waited for a few more minutes, the Weyrlingmaster jumped slightly when a familiar face ghosted out from behind him. The Bluerider was the only person who could scare him by popping up from out of no where.

"Here. Ya' forgot your scroll an' pen an' stuff. S'all in your bag, I'll watch the door, usher the chillun's through an' close the door when they're all through. Go an' do your thing."

Saraina was amazing, she remembered what ever he forgot, and he was absolutely grateful for it. He had trained her well! "Thank you." Accepting the bag as he moved past the young Bluerider, F'rah quickly made his way through a Drudge passage, one that would half his time to the preparation center. Halfway through the passage, the Weyrlingmaster had to flatten himself against the wall to let a woman pass, cringing slightly as she made a face about him being there. Moments later, F'rah exited the passage into the hallway that lead to the back door of where he needed to be. Entering the room, and receiving a few more looks as he inspected the meat, the Weyrlingmaster quietly finished his examinations before giving the thumbs up. Exiting the second door onto the sands, the Weyrlingmaster sunk back against the wall, his normal spot for taking names during the hatchings.


---


Watching as the Candidates began to file in, Kaegan quietly shifted her weight from one foot to the other, nervousness began to sink in as the stands and the sands began to fill. Habitually picking out the faces of her friends in the audience, the Goldrider tried to calm herself down, although the absent face of Saraina made her frown slightly. Shaking her head as she watched each of the Candidates bow to the Queen, the Goldrider just wanted the hatching to start. /Mine, you are even more nervous than I. If you do not cease moving I shall pin you down and make you sit until the hatching is done./ Sorry. I'm just antsy, you know how being up here makes me nervous. /Yes, I do. But try and look confident, it would help the Candidates and the People of the Weyr./ Letting her weight settle so she was standing solidly on two feet, the Goldrider forced a soft smile upon her face, directing it toward the Candidates. But when a shattering crack broke the quiet babbling in half, her attention was directed elsewhere.

Rocking so hard that it shifted itself into a diagonal position, part of the Rip-Curl Egg's shell became concave and fell apart, revealing an almost metallic green wing. A few seconds later, the second wing exited the shell, and not long after the entire body followed. The Rip-Curl Green flapped her wings once, twice, three times... fanning the egg juice from her shimmering body. If Green's could look as magnificent as Golds, the Rip Curl Green would fall directly under that category. Beautiful, almost metallic with her silver green hide, her body was perfectly formed. Shaking her head as she yawned, the Rip-Curl Green opened her eyes then immediately closed them, the bright things hurt her eyes badly. She would just rest here for a moment, the thing under her was warm, and she was just oh so cold. The only movement from the pretty Green, was the swivel of her head as she heard the soft tapping coming from one of her clutchmates.

The High-Tide egg cracked down the middle, it was soft and almost inaudible, therefore the only thing pointing out that it was to be the next to hatch, was the Rip-Curl Green's gaze...

[archenstone]

Kalina rolled off her bed and landed on her feet then knees as she wasn't even fully awake. With a loud grunt she took the impact as it woke her fully. What in all the blazes? A firelizard popped out of no where and was conveying thought of eggs and a sense of urgency. Did the eggs start hatching already? Sure enough people where scrambling to get dressed and so did she. I wonder what they'll be Excitement was giving her new found energy as she dressed and made her way to the hatching grounds.

She entered the grounds following a few others. As they spread out she realized they all seemed to want to hang near the walls or near the Jr. Weyrwoman. Her initial excitement started to ebb away and a nervous curiosity took its place. Unwilling to stick herself into the crowd against the wall she walked till she had a little space by herself. Hatching eggs was cool but she didn't like to hear chatter first thing upon waking.

She now took the time to gaze out upon the eggs. Already a lovely green lay resting. The little dragon looked so cute and tiny to her. She wondered who the dragons would pick. She looked for the eggs she had touched before. One of them was cracking. She watched it, wondering how long it took dragons to hatch.