Dragon> All sense that Tiarnath rises on her haunches, heavy talons digging deep within the hot sizzling sands of Southern Weyr's Hatching Ground. Her humming starts as a croon deep within her chest, resounding all over the Weyr, from the Weyrhall to the beach, across the Southern Continent, and then, finally, across Pern. Vibrating through the air and stone, pride evident, she calls out through the crescendoing thrum, << They come! They come! They hatch! >> Then almost inevitably << Telinda, look what I can do with this stuff that's flying in here!? >>

Dragon> All sense that Enaeth gathers himself in surprise and delight, << They hatch! They hatch! >> His exclamation is joyous, only sullied by the brief complaint, << That means /candidates/ are coming. >>

Dragon> All sense that Suriath echoes behind his Queen. << Southern Eggs are sturdy, and they rock hard now. >> He croons sympathetically. << Duck, Tiarnath? >>

You walk toward the sizzling hot sands.

Telinda runs in, skirts held in a hand, ducking as a branch zooms over her head, "Shards!"

The galleries slowly begin to fill, Weyrfolk mixing with riders from afar, and families of candidates watch with mixed emotions as they wait to see the results. Skins of wine and wagers are made in ever corner, an air of anticipation beginning to settle across the galleries.

V'tali slips out from behind Enaeth, huddling close to the bronze for the protection of his bulk, eyes wide as dinner platters. "Yeah!" he agrees, eloquently. After a moment, he adds, "I'm glad you're here," and from his expression, boy is he ever glad.

Telinda grins, "It's marginally better than rain" she notes, standing in front of Tiarnath as the gold cups a wing to protect her rider, "Thanks love" she says over her shoulder.

The wind begins to pick up once more, creating an eerie whistling through the caverns. As it does so, a fine layer of sand begins to coat the eggs and everything around. An occasional thump can be heard, a testament to the power of the gathering storm.

V'tali blinks, considering. "No, I don't know. Rain doesn't /hurt/ when it hits you," he remarks, rubbing his shoulder, where presumably something struck him earlier. "And it doesn't hurt when it gets in your eyes, either."

Atharvan walks over from the Candidate Room.
Corvetten walks over from the Candidate Room.
Ryann walks over from the Candidate Room.
Emerlienne strides over from the Candidate Room.
Ariene strides over from the Candidate Room.

Enaeth swivels his head to eye the candidates with undisguised distrust. His inner lids are firmly shut against the blowing sand and grit, but he can still see those sneaky candidates just fine.

Zarabi strides over from the Candidate Room.

Ariene woodenly walks out, swallowing. Stopping a little bit away but before Tiarnath and Enaeth, she bows and shuffles to stand near the eggs.

Dalziel strides over from the Candidate Room.
Benvi strides over from the Candidate Room.

Corvetten's approach from the waiting room is slowly made, head swiveling to take in the sights of the sands. Nervously inept, he bows to Enaeth and Tiarnath, joining the circle of candidate and glancing about for those he had decided to stand by.

Atharvan follows the candidates in front of him and moves onto the sands, blinking some before taking a deep, deep breath. Finally, the candidate deeply bows to both dam and sire and makes way to the semi-circle already being formed.

Emerlienne slips out, nearly tripping over her own feet. She bows to Tiarnath, and nervously bows to Enaeth, before taking her placein the semi-circle, near Atharvan.

A gust of wind whistles through the hatching grounds, swirling up through the galleries with a shower of fine sandy particles and detritus.

Ashyra strides over from the Candidate Room.
Xirriel walks over from the Candidate Room.
Panell strides over from the Candidate Room.

Xirriel scuffles onto the sands, nearly stumbling over his own sandal-clad feet.. Steps faltering, the young man lifts his golden-stained, viridian gaze, turning his attention disbelievingly over the sight before him -- a stream of candidates, pouring onto the chaotic sands, to waveringly face a sea of splintering eggs and torrid sands. After a mere breath, his wide emerald eyes have snagged upon the vision of the clutch's sire and dam, and he is slowly folding himself into a polite, if not anxiously stiff, bow. Such accomplished, he allows himself to be swept away in the bustling current of white-clad bodies. Upon spotting Atharvan and Panell, Xirriel utters a surprised, though garbled, murmur, and slinks swiftly, almost frantically, in their direction... His worried features are taken by an edge of transient relief, as he reaches his companions, and extends each a rickety, lop-sided smile.

Laisa strides over from the Candidate Room.

Laisa strides over quickly, stopping before tiarnath and Enaeth, she bows, then turns to stand by the eggs.

Aegamar strides over from the Candidate Room.

One candidate shouts a warning to another as a cloth tunic, torn from some clothesline and now pushed by the wind, races towards him. The second boy turns to look just in time to be hit with the shirt. He peels it off and thoughtlessly lets it go again, to fly off and do more mischief.

Ryann moves uncertainly onto the sands, shielding her eyes against the sand-sharp wind. She pauses as though trying to remember something, then moves to a comfortable distance from Tiarnath and Enaeth before she offers a respectful curtsy-bow. Quickly she moves away to take her place in the semi-circle of candidates.

Panell strides in from the candidate room and scans the sands for a few seconds before he bows low to Eneath and Tiarnath. He then proceeds to make his way over to Atharvan, giving the other a nervous smile, fidgeting with his candidate robbes as he does so.

Aegamar moves in behind the others, searching for two familiar faces as he goes. Spying Ryann and Vette, he moves to join them.

Aegamar moves in behind the others, searching for two familiar faces as he goes. Spying Ryann and Vette, he moves to join them.

Tiarnath gazes incredulously at the sudden influx of candidates, that dare to enter onto her sands - what she can see of them anyway. Her head lowers as she glances over them in assessment, each one examined carefully through the swirling sands. Snorting, as if something has been said to calm her worries, she eases herself to the sands, her tail coiling around her flanks, the movement just visible as a breath of air clears the outer reaches of the sands. Telinda shakes her head, grinning amiably at her lifemate, and adjusts her skirts, keeping close to the queen in the wind.

Atharvan looks to Emerlienne before giving her a reassuring smile, then, to Panell, Xirri, and Em, states, "The eggs really -don't- wait for anything, even freak weather." He winces at the clod of dirt hitting one of the candidates.

Like a cape tossed open, the Life After Death egg bursts in two, and a darkly glistening hatchling rolls free. His brown hide almost immediately obscured by the flying sand and mess, which sticks to the tacky membranes, he nonetheless sets off and soon finds himself staring up into the eyes of a tall blonde boy. "Pirseth!" V'fir breathes, reaching forward to brush some of the sand from the hatchling's eyeridge.

N'all strides over from the Candidate Room.
O'wyn strides over from the Candidate Room.

Dalziel is similarly nervously inept as he moves onto the sands, half-tripping as a larger candidate bustles by. Squinting against the flying sand he edges forward, ducking a swift, shallow bow to dam and sire. "Benvi? Ashyra?" he peers around, hunting out the faces of his friends - too distracted to notice the first Impression, even.

Zarabi walks calmly out into the sands, blinking as she steps into driving winds. Still, she proceeds without hesitation, using a hand to shield her eyes. She stops to bow first to the dam, then to the sire before turning to search the Candidates. She blinks as an egg bursts, stopping where she stands.

Panell bobs his head slowly in agreement as his viridian gaze scans the the shuddering eggs on the sands. "It's horrible, I can't believe they have to hatch on a day like /this/" Panell gasps, a frown embraces his featers as he glares at the hail and wind.

Ariene squints into the Sand, blocking her eyes carefully. Nibbling on her bottom lip, then spatting out sand she got into her mouth, she remembers to breath.

V'tali moves forward to stand between his lifemate and the eggs. From the 'back' of the cavern so, Enaeth glares over the egg-strewn sands at the white forms massing on the other side. He does not attempt to interfere, however - so long as the white ones are behaving themselves, and it is HIS babies who do the approaching. V'tali rolls his eyes, and remarks wryly with a glance toward Tiarnath and Telinda, "I think he'd rather keep them all to himself. Too late now, though."

The End of the World Egg tosses and rocks, dislodging twigs and sand that try to stick to it. With gusto, it twitches and tumbles before finally crumbling slowly to spill a small green hatchling from its embrace. She nosedives, creeling plaintively until she stumbles into Phiren, mostly blinded by a strand of seaweed that has blown into her eyes. He carefully picks it away, soothing her cries with murmurs of, "No, Sazath, you'll be just fine. I'm here, yes. Everything will be okay."

Ashyra narrows her eyes as she tries to peer around. She goes to move towards her fellow candidates and suddenly stops, remembering almost belatedly to bow to the sire, the dam, the Weyrwoman and the Weyrleader. That accomplished she scoots over to where she thinks Zarabi, Benvi and Dalziel are her movements stopped as an egg cracks. Hearing Dal she calls out "Over here Dalziel!"

N'all walks out as the stream of Candidates finishes. He assumes his place by Telinda and looks over at V'tali, "Heyla, K'laar, er, K'tor, er, L'mir, er, K'laa, er, V'tali!" He looks at Telinda, "I really wish you wouldn't burn them out so quickly, you know, makes it hard for me to keep track."

Laisa watches the 2nd egg crack, smiling as the hatchling bonded.

Benvi shuffles out onto the sands, her head bowed against debris and wind, her jittery movements and stilted step evidence of her nervousness. She stops a good distance from clutch sire and dam, and then offers a jerky bow before shuffling warily into the semicircle of candidates, where she aligns herself between Dalziel and Zarabi; she reaches for their hands. The two bursting eggs and subsequent lightning-quick Impressions go unheeded.

Corvetten grins nervously at Aegamar and Ryann. "Well, we're out here, finally ," he smiles, stating the obvious. "And looks like we're not the only ones." He watches worriedly as the first two impressions are made rapid-fire. "It doesn't take them long to actually hatch, once they decide that's now's the time they wanna do it, huh?" Vette comments.

Ryann barely has time to join Aegamar and Corvetten before the bursting egg catches her attention and she gasps. Then another! "I, uh, well. This is faster than I thought it would be," she admits loud enough for her two standing companions to hear her.

T'hren strides over from the Candidate Room.

Telinda smiles, "Maybe I should do the same with goldriders, just to confuse you" she adds to N'all.

Emerlienne reaches nervously for a hand, any hand, needing some kind of tactile contact for reassurance. She remains near to Atharvan, Panell, and Xirriel. Too scared to move.

V'tali is clearly anything but offended. In fact, he almost seems to relax when N'all starts making smart alec remarks. "I'll try to last a bit longer, N'all. I know that the memory goes with age, and I'll try not to tax yours too much."

Zarabi firmly grasps Ben's hand, moving closer to Ashyra. "I'm right here," she says through the winds, her voice nearly swallowed. "This is happening too fast," she adds, squinting at the eggs through the shower of sand and grit.

The Island's Too Small Egg suddenly pulses, and heaves - unable to bear the weight of so many huddled masses any longer. Blue-grey harbor waters slosh, and tumble - but the small, solid point remains miraculously untouched.

O'wyn pads out with the rest, hands tucked behind his back, and looking more than a little sheepish. He goes to stand with the other riders, though a bit back and to one side -- well out of the way.

Atharvan blinks at the violent eruption of the hatchling and its subsequent Impression of a lad, asking the three near him"Who was that? I can barely see with the dervish of sand in front of me!" Atharvan sighs. At Phiren's cries, Van blinks again, "Well, I saw that one at least... I just don't know who that was."

Flying dust and other particles fill the air, stinging the eyes of the hapless. Those in the galleries have some shelter but for the candidates and others on the sands, the only refuge is their mates and the hatchlings wandering about.

Xirriel says "I can't believe we're here," shudders the candidate, his voice quaking gently, as he once again begins to alertly comb the surrounding sands for any sign of motion, or approaching figures. "I knew it would happen, someday... But, that 'someday' seemed so far off..""

Niare strides over from the Candidate Room.

Laisa quivers, watching the rocking egg, errant finger fiddling with the hem of her robes.

N'all just /looks/ at Telinda, "I bet you would if you could figure it out. From now on, I'll just say "Weyrleader", easier on me that way." He sighs as he gets buffeted by the sands and dust, "You know, Tiarnath, your timing as usual is utterly impeccable."

Ariene digs her foot into the sand, and then pulls it away with a wince. Grabbing a hold of her robe, she fidgets and wipes sweaty palms on it. Licking her lips and blocking her eyes, she starts to nibble on her finger.

T'hren starts out onto the sands, but immediately pauses with a flurry of waving hands and spitting noises at an abrupt influx of debris. "Oh, that does it. Who cancelled the cleaning service?" he wants to know, then circles around to the other riders.

Tiarnath rumbles at the Weyrlingmaster, kindly offering him the shelter of her wing as well. She can't help, but its much more interesting this way.

Panell frowns as he narrows his eyes. "I don't know." Panell admits as he leans forward to try and get a better look. "Oh, Phiren." Panell gives a grin to Xirriel, nodding as he does so. "It doesn't seem hard to believe, huh?"

Aegamar watches in amazement. "Not wasting any time, I guess that's good." He says as he concentrates on the eggs. Looking first to Vette, then too Ryann, he grins. "This is it, guys."

V'tali gives a shrug, "We've had too many easy, boring hatchings in a row. It was about time for disaster to strike, don't you think? Have to keep everyone on their toes, after all." He casts a shielded gaze toward the candidates and hatchlings. "No messy deaths so far. I think it's going well enough."

Dalziel perks up at Ashyra's voice, pulling up neatly beside Benvi and taking her offered hand. He offers a distinctly shaky grin to the girl, before attempting to shield his eyes with his free hand. To no avail however: "Yeeowch, grit in my eye!" the boy grimaces. A moment later he adds ponderously, "Though the sands don't feel /so/ hot with all this breeze. I suppose that's a good thing."

Ryann squints her eyes in an attempt to see her surroundings more clearly, then raises her hand to block the wind again. A quick glance of comfort -for her maybe- is given to Vette and Aggy, and she reaches out for one of their hands, any hand. "This is it," she agrees.

O'wyn shifts as scattered trash flies just past his ear. There's a startled sort of sound, and then a snicker. "Well, it's -creative- weather, I'll give it that."

The Island's Too Small Egg shudders heavily under the weight it bears, both inside and out - the sighs and whispers of thousands carressing it's surface with undulating waves. Now in perpetual motion, the ovoid refuses to still as the life within desperately seeks freedom from its confines.

Infectious Moon Egg suddenly splits into splinters, sending its rather nervous-looking occupant tumbling to the ground. Apparently wary of everything, he stops and startles at every piece of flying debris that passes him. Creeling with alarm at the white-robed people before him, the little blue finally finds a friend in a dark-haired beauty: Roahn. After the lass gets over the initial shock of impressing a male dragon, she speaks reassuringly. "Come along, Murenth. Of course I love you - what is there not to love?"

Xirriel timidly lowers his gaze, for a fleeting moment, to his sandals -- seemingly, he's studying the ever-so-fascinating jig that his feet are creating upon their very own, in an attempt to ward off the scorching heat of the granules below.

Niare picks her way out onto the sands, squinting against the wind as she tries to get a good look through the chaos. Spotting T'hren, she circles in that direction, rising onto her toes momentarily to look, apparently for something or someone else.

Benvi squints to avoid getting dust and grit in her eyes, her head still slightly bowed in response to the wind. She squeezes her companions' hands. "It really is," she replies to Zari's comment. "Much, much too fast." She glances over at Dalziel and gives him a sympathetic smile and another reassuring squeeze.

Laisa smiles at Roahn, muttering, "Waaay too fast"

N'all looks at Tiarnath, "Thank you." He coughs as sand still assaults him, "Now I can't see who I'm going to be lumped with."

Emerlienne cries, "I can't see a thing. And there's stuff blowing in my eye." she shakes her head. Turning to Atharvan, Panell, and Xirriel, the only candidates she can make out, since the others are too far away. "Can you see anything?" she asks, still looking for a hand to hold.

Never Be Forgotten Egg shifts in the sands, turning slightly this way and that as if trying to protect itself from the inclement weather by burrowing itself deeper in the protection of the warm sands. After a moment's futile effort, movements stops completely.

Telinda giggles at N'all, "You think. They're likely to be" hand stretches out, pointing across the sands, "way over there."

Corvetten smiles encouragingly at Ryann, positioning himself to one side of her and taking her hand. "Let's see. Who're we gonna dive behind for protection? Looks like we need to be duckin' for cover from flyin' stuff and not just dragons, huh?" he remarks, only half joking.

With sliding motions moving it this way and that, the Tunnelsnake Triumph Egg appears to be close to cracking open. Stilling for a singular and final moment before one large piece of shell after another breaks away, revealing a dark snout pushing its way out. As quickly as the snout appears, the rest of the shell crumples, revealing a curled-up heap on the sands. In only a few moments, it rights itself and the shady wonder is on its way to investigate those white things. As it approaches a line of candidates, it becomes apparent that this dark-as-anything green hatchling has chosen neat and tidy Blythe for her lifemate. Calling out "Zephainth no, we'll help everyone we can. I promise" the new Weyrling allows herself and her new lifemate to be escorted off the sands.

T'hren chuckles, then makes another exasperated spitting sound at dirt and debris flying into his face. "Lacking candidate messy deaths. I could appreciate a whole night without them. Maybe no one will be able to see enough to get thrashed."

Shuddering, as though hit from an invisible wave, The Island's Too Small Egg rocks like a ship on an ocean swell, causing it to list to one side. A rippling crack spreads slowly from stem to stern, the rift widening to deposit a murky form, which spills out to capsize and flounder amongst the detritus on the sands and spindrift that scuds before the gale.

Ariene huddles in on herself, trying to minimize sand flying at her while still making out hatchlings, and rocking eggs.

Ryann lifts a congratulatory hand to Roahn, or at least what she can see of her through the sand infested wind. She peers around for Taryn quickly and bites her lower lip when he doesn't cross her sight. "I'll just duck behind you, Vette," she says with a weak laugh.

---*** Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling ***---

Wind-whipped sea foam has blown tumble-weed style across the Weyr to the Hatching Sands floor, connecting with this dragonet precisely at shell-crack to envelop its still-sticky form with fluffy white suds, totally clouding its true colour. Stormy eyes peer through the veil of froth about its head and muzzle; an iridescent cloak spreads from neck to tail mantling any hint of hue that might be seen. A strata of storm-wrack clings to each leg; strands of seaweed, twigs, and sand further obscure the hide's tint lurking beneath. A dead fingertail has somehow become wedged between one of the talons, which is surely going to make walking difficult.

One of the hatchlings, or maybe it was two seem to have gotten their limbs mixed up. No matter which, the result seems to be a convoluted pile of wings, paws, and tails that squirms and creels until finally, two dragonets emerge unscathed.

Atharvan squints his eyes quickly, "Ugh, this is terrible. I can barely see with all this dust flying around. The teen quickly rubs at his eyes before shaking his head, "That just makes it worse." He gives Em a look, "This wind is -not- helping." He blinks, spotting something, "Was that another egg hatching??"

Never Be Forgotten Egg rouses itself once more, slow twitching becoming more pronounced as the duration and strength of each jerking motion intensifies. The egg rocks slightly, moving back and forth as the activity does not slake.

Laisa winces, as sand is blown into her eyes. She franticaly blinks, eventually ridding her eyes of the sand,

Enaeth doesn't seem inclined to expend a lot of energy protecting people from sand. It's as much as he'll do to bring his wings forward to shield Tali a little. "You'll get to see them soon enough, I expect, N'all. And you've had weeks to spy on them as candidates, so it isn't as if there'll be any total surprises for you," he chuckles.

Panell squints his eyes as he tries to shield his face behind a hand. "I don't know, it's hard to see much." Panell mutters quetly as he cranes his neck back and forth. "What if a dragon comes our way? We won't be able to see it until the last minute."

A gleaming reddened bronze bursts abruptly from the shards of the Buried Hold of Ash egg. A trio of girls nearby, who had apparently given little notice to its warning twitches, shriek and fall back in surprise. The bronze flows down from the small mound and directly for Jemugran who watches him in surprised paralysis, even until the hatchling stands at his feet, staring up. Only then does the now-former Harper apprentice speak. Robbed of his normally lovely voice, J'gran whispers, "Veniiath, yes. Whatever you want."

Ashyra reaches a hand towards Zarabi, giving a brave smile and a cough. Flying grit is not good when inhaled. She squints, peering onto the blowing sands and almost sees an Impression happen. At least she thinks it was. A huddled robe nearby looks like Ariene. She attempts to beckon with her free hand, not sure if she can be seen.

Zarabi pulls a twig out of her hair with her free hand. "I can't see very much. I think that's a hatchling, though," she says, pointing. "It is rather hard to tell, though," she adds with a frown.

Sleeping Mountain Wakes Egg shudders as a tremor of mild magnitude ripples through it. Until now it has lain dormant under a cone of sand. The epicenter of the seismic motion, hidden at a depth within the ovoid, shifts the embedded object and causes an avalanche of granules, revealing the once-smooth surface of shell, now striated with tiny faults.

Corvetten eyes Ryann, unimpressed. "Hey, we said we'd cling 'n' hide together. That means you can't hide behind me. We've gotta find someone else to dodge behind, together." A devious smirk is turned on Aegamar. "Aggy?" he prompts. "Care to do the honours?"

Sand scatters across the shell of the Disunion Abounds Egg, catching in the cracks. The cracks become gaps, which then separate into large sections. A sand-splattered muzzle works its way out into the free air, and then the hatchling tumbles free of its former confines. Wind blowing the sand free reveals--a sand-brown dragon. How's that for confusion? Wiyil doesn't seem confused though, when the new hatchling noses him. Now W'yil, he beams brightly. "Forever and ever and then some, Kneyenth."

Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling raises its head from the Sands, staring rather forlornly around at its new castaway home - eyes lidded twice against blowing sand particles and debris. Not one to let the situation get the best of it, the sand-encrusted, windblown hatchling struggles to its four feet - listing heavily as that dead fingertail between its toes unbalances it.

Xirriel utters a muted gasp, as one of the quivering eggs he was studying has just split open, and released its prisoner onto the sands. "Look there," murmurs the ex-resident, attempting to gently pull at his friends' hands, "Can you tell what color that one is..? I certainly can't.."

Aegamar laughs inspite of all that is happening. "I think you make a bigger target than I do, Vette." He grins as his attention wanders back to the eggs and those having impressed.

O'wyn ducks faintly, eyes half-closed against the blowing sand. "Okay, this is really far more creatively complicated to watch. Cleaning all this up after will be an adventure."

Ryann offers Vette a more sincere laugh and squeezes his hand gently, shaking her head to rid herself of the accumulating sand. "Yeah, you're right, I'll hide behind Aggy instead." Her attention draws back to the eggs and what kind of looks like a hatchling.

Dalziel hacks and coughs as he gets a faceful of grit, belatedly turning his head to the side to avoid the worst. Of course, this means he doesn't get the best view of the proceedings and he queries of Benvi, with a jiggle of her hand, "What colour just hatched? I can't see!"

A small, short candidate, his white robe plastered against his body, trips as a hatchling moves nearby -- too close for his comfort, even though several paces away. Grumbling, the boy picks himself up, the pristine white now smeared with dirt and clinging debris.

Dalin ducks his head down so the back of his head protects his face from the storm. His listens to his fellow candidates - who, from what he can tell, are somewhere near. "I... can't see a thing." he mumbles.

Atharvan cranes his head foward some to try and make out the events happening in front of him, "It -is- a hatchling!" He shakes his head to Xirriel's question, responding back with, "I can't get a very good look... Looks as if its going to get up now though."

The dark stripes that are reminiscent of columns that marring the milky surface of the Never Be Forgotten egg begin to ripple, unmindful to pause even as the uprising of the wind blankets it with a cluster of lilies and fern. The struggle inside causes the egg to roll and coat itself thoroughly in the sand and crushed flowers. Movement stops as a shard near the bottom flies free and a dragonet-sized hole is chipped away. A hatchling-like figure rolls amongst the greenery before standing up with a mournful creel.

Laisa looks at the other candidates, grouped together, and she, alone. She continued to stare at the eggs, mesmerised.

---*** Florid Decadence Hatchling ***---

This hatchling's flanks are plastered with a layer or two of freshly harvested fern. Its feathery leaves are crushed and torn in places but, for the most part, remain quite verdant. Slender golden petals shoot forth in random spots, whereas in others lily parts are pressed against the soiled frame. Wings are peppered with clusters of smashed lavender and tendrils of twisted banyan leaves, one of which twists tightly around the frame of the right wing. Black soil and roots are part of this jumble, peaking out in places around the hatchling's grimy limbs and sticking up independently along its ridges. A full lily sits proudly between the two filthy head knobs, its presence bringing beauty to chaos.

T'hren spots Niare through the debris, and lifts a hand to her in clear relief. "Hey, Ni. Man, it's good to have you out here," he exclaims seriously, nodding at the hatchings already taking place, then abruptly grins and heads off towards the first weyrling pair, leading them off the sands.

Ariene swallows, peering into the darkness. "Is that a hatchling?" She whispers to herself, trying to discern colors.

Famine Walls Egg slowly cracks up, the green inside prying the shell apart with delicate talons until she is freed. Her head turns one way and then the other, before she begins a slow search of the sands. She soon lights on pretty Orisa from Big Lagoon. "Irith! I'm yours!" the dark-haired girl exclaims, running to meet the green half-way.

Emerlienne shifts her feet nervously, unable to see a thing. "What's happening?" she asks of those standing nearby. "I can't see a thing!" she steps from foot to foot quickly, watching nervously what little she can actually see.

Panell , if even possible, narrows his eyes some more. "I don't know, it's hard to tell with all this sand blowing around." Panell admits as he tries to catch everything at once.

Great Potential Egg begins to tremble with increasing speed, then with a sudden crack the shell splinters into nothing, leaving a large and robust looking hatchling sitting on the sands. In a blur of motion it sets off across the sands leaving only a few last remaining shards spinning in its wake. With wings creeping out from its sides, the sand settles long enough to reveal that the blue hatchling has chosen a young lad who's a bit on the short side, as well as scrawny. Fessupe, now F'supe, looks at the blue with much surprise "Yes Vasereth. We'll do just that food and then we'll both get cleaned up." As F'supe strokes the large blue's head, the pair follow J'mis off the sands.

Benvi extends her neck slightly to peer in out with a squinty gaze through the dust and grit obscuring her gaze, as if that will somehow help. Muttering under her breath, she slumps ever so slightly. "I can't see anything but dirt and sand and shapes...and not much else, Zari! And I think another just hatched, but I can't be sure!"

Corvetten raises an eyebrow at Aegamar. "You sayin' I'm fat or something?" he snickers. "I'm gonna hide behind both of you guys. This is gettin' disconcertin', ya know what I mean? All these eggs hatching and then clumsy baby dragons runnin' around in this storm. Not good."

Dead man Walking Egg moves. Or does it? Its hard to tell amidst all the blowing sand and debris. Another shift from the ovoid, this time against the wind proves that indeed that the dragon within has begin to stir.

Tiarnath wiggles a wing in the sand, setting the grainy blanket into movement with the aid of her movement. Her tail coils around her body as she lowers her head into the wind, trying to keep a possessive eye on the rocking eggs of her clutch. The hum, that emanates from deep within her chest, continues, the thrumming noise encouraging those dragonets captured inside to break free, and echoed in the very stone of the hatching grounds, all the Southern dragons heralding the impending hatchings and pairings.

Zarabi's robe flaps noisily in the winds and wispy strands of hair have slid from her braid. She absently tucks them behind her ear with her free hand, out of her watering eyes. "That has to be a hatchling," she agrees with Benvi. "Though I could not tell you what color for all the marks in the Weyr."

As the wind grows stronger, swirling through the hatching cavern, it becomes a danger for a couple of the tinier candidates. One from the Weyr is nearly carried away before her companion has the presence of mind to actually grab her and hang on.

Ariene jerks and jumps away as an empty pillow case of unknown origin comes flying towards her. She reels back a few feet and bumps into Ashyra with a tentative smile. "Yeah. Hi. Nice bumping into you."

Xirriel 's voice is tainted by a nuance of anxious agitation, as he cants his lanky frame forward, and attempts to study one of the dragons, saying, "This is different than I thought." However, true to his character, Xirriel's attention is quick to wander, and begins fluttering towards another small grouping of candidates.

Promise Fulfilled Egg breaks into several large pieces to reveal a green hatchling sitting in the remains of her shell. Tipping her head back to peer at her sire then the dam through the swirling winds, she doesn't seem sure as to what is required of her. Giving a resigned noise that's near to a sigh, the tiny green is soon off exploring the wall of white before her. Passing by a few from Ista, then some from Southern, she comes to a stop before a Bitran youth. As the green gazes through large eyes that search his soul, M'ton finds himself lost in the wholesome love of the beauty before him "Yes Shavranth, we shall protect each other forever." With one hand resting on the head of his lifemate, the boy allows J'mis to lead them from the sands.

Dalin tilts his head to one side as he looks forward. "I think the weather is getting the best of those hatchlings." he says - though it might not be heard. He looks around to the dark shape of his friends, then to the direction of the eggs.

V'tali squints harder. "Well, I saw a bronze, and a blue... but what is stuck on that hatchling? Who can tell what that is." He shakes his head, a fine shower of sand spraying about as he does so.

Atharvan wrinkles his nose, watching everything in front of him, "There -are- two out there, aren't there? Though, when did that other hatch?" He takes another deep breath before finally getting a better look, "Looks as if that one's covered in soil, or something else... I can't see very well with this wind whipping around like this." As the wind grows stronger, the teen tries to maintain his place near Xirri, Panell, and Em.

Niare waves to T'hren as he passes, herself moving forward, but then drawing up as J'mis instead beats her to the new weyrling she was headed towards.

Ashyra can't see anything, calling to the others "I can't see what colour any of them have been." She turns towards Zarabi and nods, eyes blinking furiously from the sand just as Ariene bumps into her. Laughing she nods towards her and asks "Have you made out any of them?"

Laisa peers through the curtain of sand, attempting to see the new hatchlings, muttering to herself, "They /must/ be there"

Fraying Earth's Egg begins to part, large pieces breaking free and falling while others cling together. Soon, the blue within washes loose, though some of the pieces continue to cling to his body as he moves. It's the redheaded Corell who catches his eye and to whom he slowly moves. "What took you so long, Oceath?" he jests when the blue finally reaches him.

"I couldn't tell you for all the marks on /Pern/," Dalziel notes grimly to Zarabi, before hanging firmly onto Benvi's arm as the gusts increase in force. "Shards," he exclaims, raising his tone to be heard over the assorted squealings and obscenities being uttered as candidates are toppled, "I certainly wasn't expecting -this- on Hatching day."

Ariene shakes her head fiercely, "No. It's so sandy..." Shivering, her teeth chatter, "And it's so cold." Squinting, she jerks back in suprise as some sand flies into her eyes. Rubbing at them, she mutters and tries to peer closer.

Emerlienne reaches out for Atharvan's arm, or maybe it's Panell's, she can't be certain. "I wish the weather would just leave off, just for even ten minutes." she complains, "Would make everything so much easier." Emerlienne shakes a fist at the sky.

Panell moves one foot backwards to get a better stance on the sands as the winds start to grow stronger. "Ug, this wind is /horrible/. I can't see anything." Panell admits as he glances at the candidates on either side of him. "I think there are two out there, it's hard to tell."

Benvi groans and shakes her head, though she quickly bows it against the strong gust; her eyes blink furiously and she holds tightly to both Dalziel and Zarabi. When the gust finally calms a bit, she inserts, "Dalziel's right. -ALL- the marks on Pern. This is -terrible-. This is worse than the touching the other day! At least you could actually see more than shapes and forms and..." she trails off and bites her lip.

O'wyn lifts a hand up to shield his eyes somewhat, as he peers out across the sands at a blue impressing. "It always sorts itself out, nasty weather or not."

Aegamar puts his hands up to his eyes for a second as the wind gusts. Not being able to clearly make out the number and colors of the eggs. Yelling to Ryann and Vette, "I think we're gonna have to be tackled to Impress..." He looks back trying to see.

Ryann squints in the direction of what looks like a little green and follows her progress to her chosen impressee. A quick sigh is given before she squeezes Vette's hand again. "I'm doing well, eh, haven't run away yet?" another weak laugh. She ducks her head against a strong gust, then peers at Aggy, "I hope you're not right."

Xirriel warily attempts to study his rather chaotic surroundings, an intimidated and exceptionally nervous expression dominating his visage. Petals of crimson have bloomed from within his cheeks, likely the product of his anxiety, coupled with the incredible warmth of the sands...

Dalin shakes his head. He looks forward, squinting. He answers a question that he heard - maybe not to him... but to someone. "I can't see! I - think there are two... no. Three? This is terrible!"

Enaeth, generally silent for weeks on end, thrums constantly as he watches the hatchlings burst from their eggs and scramble for new partners. V'tali presses closer against the dragon's bulk, "For once I'm glad it's so hot out here - otherwise, with all this wind, we might get awfully cold."

Sleeping Mountain Wakes Egg has become quite active, rolling with high velocity from side to side in the pit that contains it. The surface heaves continually, causing rifts to widen into fissures that eject tiny fragments of shell. Pyroclastic utterances issue from within as the occupant seeks to free itself; grunts and growls intensify to a stream of Strombolian vocalization that spews forth, giving vent to rising frustration.

Corvetten glances about. "What colour is that?" he asks his companions, pointing at a hatchling. "Or that?" He points to another, looking surprised. "Faranth, but I wasn't expectin' a hatchin' to be like this at all. This wind -- the sand--" Vette breaks off, rubbing grit from his eyes and trying to shake it from his hair. He grins at Aggy. "Tell me about it! Somebody's gonna get hurt or something." He nods also to Ryann. "Very good. Then again, I might have to tackle you to keep you out here if you try to take off runnin'."

Laisa looks at the new riders with awe, and partial envy, then turned back to glaring through the sands.

Zarabi ducks as she sees the shadow of something flying at her, pulling at her sister's hand and grabbing at Ashyra on her otherside. "Duck!" she calls out into the wind.

Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling snorts loudly, clearing sand and debris from its nostrils - humming thoughtfully to itself as it bravely sets out on its maiden voyage. Ah, yes - those are the things it seeks! White-robed figures draw the hatchling's full attention, and it waddles towards them on unsteady baby-legs balanced precariously by half-extended pinions - that fingertail-fouled foot kicking out every-so-often to try and shake the irritating thing free. No, not that one, pardon me! Oh, almost! but not quite... The elegant, determined dragonet circulates among the throng of Candidates, seeming to enjoy their company while keeping to its dogged search. As the Spindrift hatchling stumbles upon that fingertailed foot, it goes sprawling nose-first into the sand once again. OOF!

Ariene sniffs at the air, a rank smell reaching her nose before a floppy dead fish nearly smacks her in the face. She eeks and jerks, watching it fly off a few feet until she can't see it. Wrinkling her nose, she makes a small startled nose.

Atharvan takes the time to maintain some composure on the sands, breathing deeply as he looks around the space of the semi-circle. "Why did the weather choose to stay like this during /our/ Hatching?" He shakes his head before muttering out, "Faranth." His shoulder is there for Em, and he replies to her, "It's fine. The wind is just a little... windy." He blinks at Zarabi's exclamation, "What? What happened? Was that Zarabi?"

Florid Decadence Hatchling raises first one wing and then the other, each motion slowed by both the weight of the fluid-glued foliage and the wondering curiosity which shines so clearly from the whirling gaze of newly-opened eyes. The wonder does not last long, as it is replaced with disgust for the uncomfortable state of affairs. Hatchling tries to divest itself of some of the debris attached to its form, the new emphatic nature of each movement serving to do no more than over-balance the creature and send it sprawling to the sands.

The passing of a hatchling kicks up a palm frond to be played with by the wind, swirled around and driven across the sand, dipping down to brush an egg before being dropped back to the ground by the capricious wind.

Dead man Walking Egg shivers as the winds blow across its surface, a fine spinner's web of cracks transforming the nebulous pattern into a mosiac that challenges the imagination. Then the egg falls still, almost giving the impression of drawing into itself and becoming smaller.

Ryann shifts to tug at Vette's arm via the hand she's holding onto and looks up at him. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Corvetten." She jumps slightly when it seems she thinks a hatchling steps too close to her and lifts her free hand to brush sand off of her face and out of her hair.

The careful pillars of the Mausoleum Mourners Egg crumble and the egg opens. A sandy figure in the midst of the shards throws its head up into the air to emit a croon that echoes through the chamber. The dragonet tumbles away from the egg mound, crying out even more mournfully as sand whips up from the floor, blocking its view of the candidates. Dirt and debris finally give away to a dark sienna as the brown dragonet comes to rest at Dayonis' feet, who calls out, "Oh Kinyrath, are you all right?" She leans down to help her lifemate up before they are both helped off the sands.

Shadows pass over pristine blue and white as a storm brews under the surface of the Sleeping Mountain Wakes Egg. The beach and granite dirt that covers the egg's surface shifts as jarred movements snap at gentle curves. The smudged silhouette begins to pulse outward until finally the glint of a talon punctures its way through, it's colour blurred from vision by swirling sand. The hatchling finally tears away the remaining shards of its egg before crawling out onto the sands.

Panell continues to peer at the whirling wind, trying to see through to the hatchlings. "I agree, why'd it have to be like this? I can hardly see a thing. Did something just happen?" He leans forward a little, his hair flapping wildly in the wind as his green eyes dart back and forth.

---*** Torrential Eruption Hatchling ***---

Silver and gold particles of grainy granite sparkle over this dragonet's flank, pasted on by the sand mixture combined with the moisture of its egg. Twigs and greenery stick like fallen trees, discarded over the landscape of a broken mountain. Its wings are so coated by the ashen pebbles that they sit rigidly out on either side of its torso, with dust sprinkling off of the sails with every movement. A variety of pebbles from toe to pinkie-sized have become quite hopelessly lodged in-between its soot-covered ridges with one sizable rock sticking painfully just behind the base of it's neck. The hues of its face are continually barred from view by the uprising of cinnamon coloured granules that stick to the yolk on its hide.

With a rumble and a rattle and a *crack*, the Overheated Degree Egg's inhabitant announces it's had quite enough and as the last of the shell flies off, a tiny green darts across the sands. Unable to dislodge a wind-blown pink frilly scarf off her head, Syneth creels with frustrated impatience and demands Matilde to rectify the situation immediately. As plump hands quickly free the hatchling, soft brown eyes widen with surprise and then fill with tears of joy. "I agree with you, pink is not your color but let's go find something to eat."

Deviant Firestorm Egg starts to sway back and forth a wee bit, the motion barely detectable at first, as if rocked by those bothersome winds. Gradually, though, it becomes apparent that there's more than wind at work here, as the rockings become more frequent and severe.

Benvi squeals -- quite inappropriately -- as she too notices the flying debris. She doesn't need to be told to duck, she just does it! "What was that?!" she exclaims as she shakily straightens back up, peering around with squinted eyes. She squeezes Dalziel's and her sister's hands for reassurance -- both for herself and for them.

Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling coughs, doggedly regaining its footing - heaving encrusted, wind-blasted body back up to continue its diligent pursuit of food, and a lifemate. Kick-shake-walk, kick-shake-walk... The rhythm is repeated as the newborn is pelted by even more debris, clinging soddenly to its coating of gooey sand. Round and round it goes, and where it stops... Kick, shake... Hey. What's that over there? Whirling, red eyes focus immediately upon a grouping of white robes off to its left, and things are suddenly so clear! Head ducked down low to avoid flying debris, the hatchling unsteadily paces off towards that irresistable something - irritating fingertail forgotten in its need to close the distance.

Laisa spots a large stick hurtling towards her, and ducks, the stick only brushing her head.

Ashyra gasps as she almost gets pulled right off her feet, her head ducking down in time to get adorned with low blowing debris. The larger piece missed. Uprighting herself she peers at the long strand of leaf hanging from her shoulder. Batting at it she calls to the others "What was that?"

A pair of candidates try to shelter each other, yet still keep an eye on the wandering dragonets. Perhaps they can seek shelter behind Eneath. He's big, he won't notice.

Atharvan looks around as the wind whips about, "Sharding wind... Give me heat any day." He looks around before blinking again, "Was that another hatchin-- it was! Look!" He hunches his head down some, telling Panell quickly, "See? It's got those twigs sticking to it." He wrinkles his nose at the Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling and clucks his tongue, "Poor hatchling.."

Florid Decadence Hatchling flounders for long moments upon the slick sands in an effort to return to an upright position. Only once the rapidly-blinking gaze of the hatchling is once more firmly above the flower-covered posterior does the creature go nearly still as the surroundings are more carefully eyed. Tentative steps go forward, lest balance be lost once more, but soon become more confident as the whirling gaze travels over debris and white-robed Candidates alike.

Corvetten snickers. "Oh, yes, I will, Ryann, if I think you need it," he smirks. "After all, we haven't gone through all this candidacy and waiting just to have you run out before you can impress. Aggy's with me on this one, aren't ya?" he questions his other companion, bracing himself against the wind and nearly being smacked in the face by a piece of laundry.

Torrential Eruption Hatchling pauses ominously in its crater for a long moment before flowing out in molten movement towards the candidates huddled nearby. Abruptly halted by the lithic accumulation stuck to the viscous matter on its hide, it imparts a blast of blistering complaint as it unsuccessfully attempts to expel the burdensome deposit before moving on.

Emerlienne grabs onto Atharvan, his arm, his hand, his shoulder, any of the above. She shudders slightly, stepping to the side to avoid being landed on by someones missing sheet. "Ah. There!" she nods, "I can sortof make out hatchling shapes now." Em calls out triumphantly.

Dalin looks to either side of him. "I think it is getting worse. I'm not sure how much more of this we can stand.... it is too much." he looks forward to the eggs and sposed hatchling. "All I see are blured shapes, anyone see anything?"

Mouldy Bread Egg shimmies and shakes, bits of the shell crumbling onto the sands. Before long a huge brown dragonet is sitting amid the crumbs, his hide gleaming with highlights of auburn. He glares down at the sand and gives it a snort. How uncomfortable and none-too-noble either! For a few moments, he looks around, taking in the chaos and commotion of dragons and people. How unorganized! How can anything be accomplished like this? Well, he refuses to be part of it. Let us find a nice candidate and be done with it. He looks over to Hulton from across the sand and soon H'ton is racing forward, "I'm coming Tanamarth, we'll get out of here."

After a long period of stillness, and without warning, the Dead Man Walking Egg rocks violently up on one end, spinning in a burst of movement. The shell crackles from top to bottom in a lightning-quick stroke. Shards explode outward, pieces spraying in all directions, dropping a surprised and squalling hatchling onto the ground. Just as the hatchling erupts from its haven, a sand devil, kicked up by spiralling winds, converges on its position, shrouding it from view.

Aegamar nods at Vette, "Aye, I'm with you." He says as hatchling forms start to become a bit visible, then gone again. Watching with interest, he tries harder to catch a better view of the eggs.

Zarabi shakes her head, looking in the direction the debris went flying off in. "I have no idea but it looked like it might hurt," she says, her voice nearly swallowed between the winds and the chaos. "Look, the hatchlings seem to be getting closer," she adds, her eyes moving back towards the center of the sands squinting to get a better view.

---*** Converged Cyclone Hatchling ***---

This hatchling's colour is indiscernible because the miniature funnel shrouding it stalls any attempt to examine it. The small whirlwind dissipates, the lull allowing the debris to settle. A flurry of aeolian storm-wrack is left clinging to the viscid hide. Mingled leaves, dirt, flower petals, twigs, seaweed, several articles of clothing, avian feathers, eggshell fragments, grass clippings, strands of string, wood shavings and even bugs form a variegated mantle that completely clouds the shade of this dragonet's hide. Even its wings, which were slightly unfurled when brushed by the tiny vortex of matter, are be-decked with the stuff, their position now stuck at an awkward angle. A letter, written on a sheet of precious paper, clings to the bottom of one hind foot, even it not exempt from the winds.

The Healer's Blessing Egg takes its time about breaking open, but eventually spills forth a small blue hatchling who begins to take his first wobbling steps over the debris-strewn sands. It is Jasoph who keeps looking over, and eventually that shaggy-haired boy who the small hatchling nudges with his maw. With a beaming smile, J'oph drops to his knees and says, "Yes, Monanth. All yours," he says meekly.

Deviant Firestorm Egg blurs as rocking transmutes to violent vibrations, the red that sparks across its surface flickering like real flame. The jiggles become quite frantic, and the egg begins to spin and roll, its occupant fiercely determined to vacate the confined space. Abruptly it pauses to rest, pondering its next move.

Xirriel grimaces faintly, as the serrated wind scrapes along his features; his gaze darts over towards Panell, as his feet scuffle nervously back and forth.. Breath catches sharply within the candidate's throat, as his wandering attention anxiously snags upon the Converged Cyclone Hatchling. "Shells.. This is.." And -- his soft words trail away, twisting upon the snarling air.

Florid Decadence Hatchling moves ever more swiftly, stepping through the rubbish-filled sands with ever more agility in an effort to avoid treading upon other flotsam. Gaze sweeps over the figures, whose importance only now begins to dawn on the creature. As the hatchling moves through the crowds, the fern and flower-made cloak it wears begins to dry even as most of the candidates are dismissed after a single-glance, all save one whose position is steadily being approached.

Dalziel similarly ducks as Benvi squeals, staring after the flying debris as it hurls itself as some other hapless candidates. "Dangerous. This is dangerous," tsks Dalziel - yes, he's observant. Straightening up he squeezes Benvi's hand back, focussing dark eyes upon the Looming Shapes that he presumes to be hatchlings, shifting his sandaled feet nervously. "I wish I could /see/."

Laisa looks around, or attempts to, at the rocking eggs, and the assembled candidates.

Torrential Eruption Hatchling is unable to rid itself of the weighty mantle, but it forces itself onward, still plastered with a strata of debris, a living landslide as it surges through the turbulence that marks the once-peaceful Grounds. As the hatchling tires, ballistic movement slows and forays amongst the wary Candidates become tentative. Its wings droop to rest on the sands, the dragonet sinks down in exhausted repose, its incandescent eyes closing as it croons a bleating sigh that is barely heard above the tornadic roar of the wind.

Rain, spat out by the clouds, sprinkles down over the caldera, lightly wetting the eggs and candidates as the wind briefly slacks off.

With sleek hide as yet plastered in a mosaic of half-soggy debris, Spindrift Shrouded Hatchling has a moment of trouble when blindly wandering through a particularly mucky patch of sand. Managing to recover with a tricky side-step that would have left most hatchlings tail in the air, it shifts paths, careening now in the opposite direction with an abrupt swerve. The sudden, violent shake of form rapidly begins to clear away the debris, leaving ever-widening windows of Windswept Granite Brown exposed as he pauses before a clump of candidates, staring intently up at one with dark brown eyes and hair.

Weathered rock, invincible against the raging seas, sparkles with minute flecks of mica -- shades of heather mingling amidst the mist and shadows while sunshine dances through low-scudding clouds, tracing hints of warm ochre over the grizzled brown hide of this hatchling. His neckridges descend in a fog of fuliginous striations that run along his back to blend with granite-hued shoulders, long resistant to the pounding surf. A jumbled mix of storm-tossed lichen, driftwood and scorched seaweed tumble down his flanks as if left by an ebb tide. His underbelly, awash with kelp-flecked sand, is laced with sprays of dusky aqua that yield to limbs, reminiscent in shade to a tidal marsh from which claws curve to obsidian tips. Spindrift releases mottled wood and canvas from its briny bower to rig his wingsails, sepia curling like shipwrecked flotsam along his 'spars.

Ryann sets her jaw stubbornly and makes it a point to turn her increasingly not so comfortable attention on the growing number of hatchlings. She watches one while she can see it, though she can't make out any particular color. "I guess I'll just stay here, then," she says, lifting a hand to the rain.

Benvi peers forward at Zarabi's words. "I think you're right Zari...but I really can't be sure. Yeah, so do I," she says, glancing over at Dalziel before her gaze returns to peering out ahead of her.

Dalin bites his uper lip as he looks forward once again. "Shards! I can barely stand now. I keep... getting stuff in my eyes." his hands come up and start rubbing at his eyes and when they come back down he blinks, looking forward. "I think I see more now..." he mubles.

The barracks are now Weyrling Barracks, the waiting room is now set for Weyrlings, and all the respective exits have been changed.

Panell wriggles uncomfortably on the sands as he tries to watch through the storm. "I think another one just hatched, can you see the color?" the boy switches to glance at his fellow candidates, a frown places itself on his face as the rain starts pouring down. "Great, now we have rain."

Ariene squints around and bounces on the tips of her toes, her robe plastered to her body. Nibbling on her upper lip, she breathes raggedly.

Atharvan tries to look around, shaking his head and asks his nearby friends a succession of questions while he continues to watch the eggs hatch, "Rain? Oh great... Now comes the rain? What's next? Snow?" He blinks, "Did that one Impress someone? Is that another Hatchling? Is that -seaweed- on that Hatchling?"

Corvetten grins. "You bet you will," he affirms to Ryann. He sighs miserably and glances skyward, squinting at the rain now pouring down on his head, soaking his blonde hair and plastering the white candidate robe to his body. "This just gets worse and worse," Vette complains.

Laisa moves her feet slowly, skin becoming qaccustomed to the heat, and felt wet on her body. She sighed, mumbling, "Oh joy, rain"

Fruit or Fowl Egg is slow to crack and even slower to fully hatch. The small green dragonet inside takes her time dismantling the sage colored shell. When she finally turns her attention to the white creatures who share the sands with her she does her darnedest to look like the very cutest prettiest dragonet ever, complete with sad full eyes and the cant of her head. It seems like forever that she just sits there before Calantha takes a tentative step forward. The girl is almost knocked over when the demure green suddenly changes her tune and bounds heedlessly into her. "Watch it, Praibeth," she says, tears in her eyes even as she scolds the young dragon.

Down to the Sea Egg needs space and needs it now. With an awkward side-step to the left and then a firm jump to the side, it slides from the cramped mound. A slight wiggle to each side satisfies its inhabitant that there is nothing around, and it settles, laying still for the moment.

Dalin looks forward. "Atharvan... don't jinx us. It is bad enough as it is." he looks forward, the shapes starting to blur even more as he blinks in the rain.

For such a large hatchling, the brown that emerges from the Big Bang Egg comes into the world in an awfully sedate manner. A mere crack or two, and then a crumbling, and the newborn dragon is off, meandering ever outward before he finally runs into Hayden. "A beginning. Yes, Celenth, it is," the healer boy says solemnly, tears on his cheeks.

The bit of moisture only serves to act as a coagulant, adhering the sand and debris more firmly to any surface that it comes into contact. Sticks and leaves adorn the bodies of many, human and dragon alike.

Laisa glared at her arm, where a large leaf was stuck. Glaring at it, she peeled it off, throwing the soggy leaf on the bround.

Converged Cyclone Hatchling stops squalling for a moment, the absence almost unnoticeable in the whines of the wind. The diminutive dragon pauses, peering up into the sky before creeling, a demanding note entering the tone. Demanding what is left uncertain. The wind to stop, perhaps? Alas and alack, one small hatchling can do little to change the course of the wind. But there is one thing it can do, and that is begin the quest. The quest to seek one special person from a sea of white-robed beings.

Xirriel briefly, warily, lifts his verdant gaze towards the heavens, as rain begins to dribble along his anxious features. "What next.." mutters the candidate timidly, before quickly turning his attention towards the hectic sands once more. Van's query is considered, before rain-dabbled shoulders lift helplessly. "I'm.. really not sure.." Xirri's velvet voice is noticeably quivering, by this point. Even the wind cannot hide that.

V'tali sighs, and makes a silent plea, turning puppy eyes up toward Enaeth. The bronze absently shifts the angle of his outstretched wing, to shelter V'tali more thoroughly. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult to watch the proceedings. "What's going on? Was that Calatha who Impressed?"

D'ziel turns his head as a particular Looming Shape draws closer, arm suddenly falling from shielding his eyes to hang limply by his side. "Toralth?" the boy whispers, unheard as the wind whips about. The light drizzle of rain isn't noticed, even as a rivulet makes its way down his cheek - because surely that's not a /tear/. "Toralth!" Dalziel - D'ziel - proclaims suddenly, exuberantly. "Oh, but I'm hungry.. /he's/ hungry."

O'wyn shifts aside once more, ducking out of the way of a bright orange sock carried in on the wind. "Hah, -that's- what happens to half of mine," he notes, amused. He turns back once more, hands tucked behind his back, one folded over the other. "I've completely lost track of the lot," he admits, sheepish.

Ariene, with Dalziel so near Ashyra, and Ashyra near her, she grins. "Daz! Or D'ziel! Congratulations!"

T'hren returns from the back room, dusting himself off, but only to be abraded by more debris. He drops his arms with an exasperated, long-suffering sigh, then holds his hand over his eyes as he trudges towards the newest pair. "Toralth. Very good. C'mon, kid, the hungries is a good sign. We've got a load of food ready for you," he encourages D'ziel, escorting him off the sands.

Laisa grinned at D'ziel, almost clapping for him.

Zarabi grimaces slightly as it begins to rain on top of the heavy winds. She shifts her weight, using her free hand to unstick her robe from between her legs. "I really don't think the weather could get any worse," she comments, shaking her head, her eyes following the progress of one of the hatchlings as it nears her side of the Candidate group. She smiles as a brown emerges only one person away, next to her sister. "Oh Dalziel," she says. "He's amazing! Congratulations!"

Torrential Eruption Hatchling is unable to rid itself of the weighty mantle, but it forces itself onward, still plastered with a strata of debris, a living landslide as it surges through the turbulence that marks the once-peaceful Grounds. As the hatchling tires, ballistic movement slows and forays amongst the wary Candidates become tentative. Its wings droop to rest on the sands, the dragonet sinks down in exhausted repose, its incandescent eyes closing as it croons a bleating sigh that is barely heard above the tornadic roar of the wind.

Ryann peers down at her robe a moment, not looking at all pleased that it's sticking to the skin beneath. Then she looks up to where she hears a name called out and smiles. "What a pretty name?" is all she seems able to remark.

A bright blue muzzle can briefly be seen as the Tumbling Wall Egg devolves into scrap. But then the wind and debris sweeps in, startling a high-pitched squawk of indignation out of the new-hatched dragon as he hauls himself into the whirlwind. His search is, mercifully, short, and he finds himself before a young trader lad. Eegan, now E'gan clings to his newfound lifemate, calling, "It's okay Sariketh, you found me." The two are quiet a moment before they're led from the sands.

Atharvan chuckles as he hears Dalin, "I guess that'd be worse than wind--" He blinks as he hears someone shout out a dragon's name, asking those near him, "Who was that?? Was that Dalziel?!" He finally spots the pair and grins happily, exclaiming "Yes! Good for him!"

Aegamar smiles and shouts, "Congrats, D'ziel. He's beautiful!" He looks back to the others, mindful of the form racing about the sand.

Gazed but Untouched Egg shifts ripples slightly under it's cobalt service, a move which can easily be lost as the sand around it is suddenly scooped up into the air, only to come crashing down again over the egg's shell. The tranquil orb seems no worse for weyr, though it appears almost to breath like the small life it contains.

Laisa peels her red-brown from around her neck, attempting to wring it out, moisture dripping from her.

Panell wrinkles his noes as he continues to peer through the wind. "Did someone just impress? Was it Dalziel?" Panell asks 'Van as he hears the comment from the former gardener. "I can hardly see anything. Good for him, though."

Dalin looks to one side of him as he hears congradulations going to Dalziel. He squints slightly and nods - but doesn't say anything. He just turns his head back forward.

Ashyra looks up from batting at leaves and twigs and now..mud to see a shape nearby, very nearby. As she peers she realizes that one of them has Impressed. "Oh D'ziel! He's beautiful!"

Benvi gasps as she sees the brown stop in front of Dalziel and quickly drops his hand, scooting closer to her sister. "Oh, Dal--D'ziel. Congratulations!" her excited exclamation holds a tinge of marveling awe.

Through the swirling debris, a muck-covered form begins to solidify before the candidates. Drawing toward its goal with a sly, curving approach, Florid Decadence Hatchling pauses, abruptly rocking back onto its haunches to elevate its head to level with the candidate of its desire. A single, ladylike shudder of form reveals patches of green as she locks eyes with a ebony haired girl, holding herself perfectly still with admirable patience.

Waxen leaves of thick hedgerows are almost fully obscured by the delicate tendrils of smoky silken webs that overlay this verdurous green hatchling. Dense morning fog settles into the crevices of shoulder and haunch, seeping through the near-impenetrable verdant foliage of her flanks. Thick, viscous olive shades her undertones from nose to tail's tip: immutable, opaque and unreadable. Shadowed depths of leafy green are highlighted by ghostly wisps down belly's curve, as though luminescent gossamer filaments were spun in flowing arrays. Wingspars are darker still, daylight's penetration abated further by hedge's umbrage, the colour fading across the membranes of her 'sails -- sage expanses of mist-obscured softness. A fine patina of spectral haze washes over her neckridges, an illusion of translucence and a suggestion of veiled serenity.

Emerlienne hears the call of 'Toralth' although she sees nothing. "Another impressed." she comments, acknowledging the impression, yet not calling out congratulations. Not right now. "Who? Dalziel? Good for him. Have to congratulate him after." she nods, more important concerns right now.

Corvetten peers. "Dalziel? Dalziel impressed? What colour? What's its name?" he questions. He falls silent, looking a bit surprised -- though it's not the first impression of the hatchin, it's the first to take away one of his better friends to impress. The thought is sobering, and Vette sighs in accordance, looking uncertain. "You might have to hold /me/ out here in a moment," he tells Ryann with a wavering smile.

The Wind Beneath the Wings Egg begins to shiver despite the heat of the hatching caverns, slightly at first but increasing in intensity until a chasm suddenly opens in the blue sky-pattern of the egg. From that gaping hole, a fine-boned chestnut brown emerges, wings outstretched gloriously. Without hesitation, he struts to Lililya with his nose in the air. "Well, it's about time, Leikoth," Lililya sniffs, looking the brown over. "You'll do. Yes, yes you can eat now." And the pair make their way off the sands slowly, making sure everyone has enough time to admire them.

Down to the Sea Egg vibrates and trembles as it strives to roll over a large branch that presses it against another egg that seems to have gotten lonely with out its former mound-mate. With a determined thump-thump-thump, it manages to climb over the barrier. Exhausted from the struggle for escape, it again rests.

Ryann moves to nudge her shoulder against Vette. "You're here to keep me here, not the other way around. Toralth, I think was his name. Not sure what color." Her voice is even, but distracted.

Xirriel tilts his lanky frame forth, in order to glance in Dalziel's direction, as 'Van points out their fellow's Impression.. "Amazing," murmurs the young man, his voice suggesting flickering cheer. "Congratulations!" A smile glinting transiently upon his features, Xirri peers cautiously across the sands -- and he takes notice of Lililya, as well as her newfound companion. "Lililya?" Such is utterred in pure and simple awe. "/She/ Impressed.."

Ashyra looks confused for a moment, slowly turning her head to look eye to eye with "Evalenth, yes, yes my pet, of course you are." Her expression is one of pure joy as she drops and throws her arms around the beautiful green.

D'ziel manages to drag his attention from Toralth a moment to give Benvi a sort of bemused grin, before he's escorted off the sands. It all seems a bit much for the trader turned storeroom keeper turned candidate.. now weyrling. "Yes, of course," he replies aloud, to his new lifemate, apparently, shuffling off over the sands with Toralth.

Zarabi watches the pair disappear into the debris. "That was the first hatchling I've seen up close," she says to Ashyra and Benvi beside her. "Though here comes another one," she adds, watching as a green materializes right next to her, awe etched on her features. "Oh, Ashyra," she smiles, stepping out of the way of the newly Impressed pair. "Congratulations - I knew you could do it!"

Ariene shifts away slightly as Ashyra Impresses. Smiling, she says quietly, "Congratulations, Ashyra. And Evalenth." Swallowing, she gives the two some room, her heart beating so loud someone can probably hear it.

Quickly as it came, the rain ceases or perhaps the droplets are lost as the wind resumes it restless rampage across the weyr.

Atharvan sighs, "Shards and shells, I can barely see a thing out here.." He squints some again, then blinks as he spots Ashyra and her new lifemate, elatedly telling his nearby friends, "Ooh... 'shyra Impressed! Wonderful!" He glances around, "There're still some more hatchlings out there... I can see them.." He blinks, saying "At least the rain stopped."

Evalenth returns to a lower stance, crooning up at her new lifemate with compassion and enjoying the companionsip of the embrace. Still, the green's movements soon become insistent as she gently nudges Ashyra away from the mess of the sands.

Aegamar cheers as Ashyra finds her lifemate. "Allright!" He yells, "Congratulations Ashyra."

Corvetten laughs. "Yeah, well, I'm starting to get scared now," he notes wryly. "How about you Aegamar? I mean--" he breaks off, glancing through the storm. "Ashyra? I think Ashyra just impressed," Vette comments, rather dazedly.

Ryann grins widely in Ashyra's direction. "Look, Ash impressed! Congratulations, Ash!" the blonde calls more loudly.

Laisa grins, looking towards Ashyra, "congratulations!"

T'hren walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Panell looks about his friends, a inquisitive look on his face before he peers back at the green. "Oh, Ashyra impressed!" Panell grins as he turns back to the other hatchilngs..

The Deviant Firestorm egg seems to ripple as though it truly has caught fire, and then one half falls away, the other remaining standing upright, shielding its occupant from view, if not from the gusting wind. A blast of sand driven before the breeze, trips the hatchling up, and its indistinct form can be seen tumbling to the ground. It rights itself as the wind slackens slightly.

D'ziel walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Toralth walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

---*** Shimmering Sealife Hatchling ***---

A smear of glistening dark green kelp ribbons down the neck of this gangly hatchling, stuck fast to the damp mucous which coats its hide. A blanket of sand clings as well, showing between the bits of twig, leaf and sea flora which have attached themselves so firmly so as to completely coat its body. Shimmering white sand sparkles along its wings, perhaps blown in from the lake, while a darker speckling coats its legs, obscuring the shade of hide below. A cloak of vines have tangled about the neck, twisted around the ridges and fallen from there to the ground to drag against the sand, gathering their own collection of debris.

The Over in a Moment Egg doesn't wobble much but seems to open instantly, revealing a sand and twig colored hatchling. The little one stumbles away from its shards, occasionally stopping to loosen the dirt from its wings. A large twig falls away to reveal fresh spring green as the petite hatching wanders over to Tazea, creeling wildly for attention. "Calm down, Zoyarth! Yes, I'll get you food!" Green Zoyarth creels until J'mis steps out to lead the newly paired toward the food.

Dalin looks over to where Ashyra is. A small smile appears on his face as he congradulates her "Congradulations, Ashyra" h says, noding. his head turns to where the other hatchlings are - or so he thinks. "How many are there now? anyone see?"

Benvi gazes after D'ziel and Toralth until Zarabi calls more congratulations for another. Her gaze snaps in Ashyra's direction and she blinks rapidly, perhaps from debris, perhaps from surprise. Two comrades taken! "Oh! Oh! Congratulations, Ashyra!"

Converged Cyclone Hatchling saunters around the groups of wide-beings. Well, attempts to saunter with legs totally new to the whole concept of walking coupled with a less than idea surface to practice on. The small dragon skitters this way and that, even heading towards a group of candidates before detouring at the last moment. Unfortunately that did not prevent, the shower of sticky gunk from flying in their direction.

Trust Betrayed Egg shivers, faintly at first, barely noticeable in the chaos of wind and swirling sand. A cluster of leaves stripped from a jungle tree crash into the egg, however, and this seems to encourage the occupant to greater effort. The entire egg shakes back and forth in a rhythmic fashion. Back and forth and back and forth again, the hatchling inside is methodical in its attempt to escape.

For one that's unbreakable, Unbreakable Thread Egg is soon laying in pieces on the floor of the hatching cavern leaving a thin almost scraggily blue that's already testing his voice on the sands. Standing as tall as he can and chuffing and bugling, he's off across the sands just like that. Passing by several boys and a few girls, he stops just shy of knocking over a sturdy girl from Southern. Dropping to her knees to hold the massive head in her hands, Therda promises "I'll speak up more often Vorcanth." Overwhelmed with happiness, the speechless lass follows J'mis, the blue broadcasting his joy in loud croons as they are lead to food.

Torrential Eruption Hatchling rises to continue its quest, energy renewed by its brief rest. As it moves, the now-dried veneer of assorted stones and crusty egg yolk begins to form cracks. The carapace fractures, begins to crumble, loosing fragments and flaking off of the dragonet, so that by the time it reaches its destination, the pebbles and sand are spattering to the ground forming a talus slope about its feet.

Niare, just returning from escorting Lililya and her brown off the sands, waves towards T'hren to indicate she's got this one, as she heads towards Ashyra, a smile on her lips. "If you'll come this way?" she prompts, turning to gesture towards the exit.

T'hren walks over from the Weyrling Room.
Niare walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Ashyra smiles as best she can to the others but her whole focus is on the green in front of her. Nodding she rises and gently motions to Evanlenth "Yes dear, of course you are, quite right. Let's go and take care of that."

Atharvan clucks his tongue as he looks around at the hatchlings braving the weather to find their lifemates, and soon tells his nearby friends, "This weather must be maddening for the hatchlings too." He sighs and shakes his head, "They seem to be doing well enough, considering though, eh?" He blinks, quickly asking Panell, "Did another one Hatch?"

Ashyra walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Shimmering Sealife Hatchling pokes its nose out from behind the standing half of its eggshell, and bright faceted eyes follow soon thereafter. For a moment it gazes around the Grounds, instinctively closing its inner eyelids against the wind, then it steps out, wobbly but determined, to do some exploring. Each piece of storm debris and broken shell it encounters must be clumsily grabbed and thoroughly inspected before it moves on once again.

Panell frowns as he crosses his arms. "I think so, it's so hard to tell. At least the rain stopped now." The boy was dripping head to toe from the rain. "At least it seems to be calming down, for the moment, anyway."

Xirriel utters a weak, anxious trill of laughter, as Atharvan again draws his attention to a newly-Impressed pair. "Ashyra, and.. What was the name?" His congratulations are forgotten, as he glances eagerly between 'Nell and 'Van. However, easily distracted as he is, the candidate lifts and settles his feet, while considering the Torrential Eruption Hatchling, which has only just faded into his range of vision. "Poor thing," whispers the candidate hesitantly, motioning towards the encrusted hatchling.

Zarabi turns back to Benvi. "Well," she says, her voice almost too calm. "They are going quickly," she says, stating the obvious. She releases Benvi's hand, finding her own damp and she wipes it on her robe before offering it to her sister again.

Torrential Eruption Hatchling's head turns into the wind, ducking down as it looks intently in a new direction. Uncertainty flees as the small young dragon begins to forge into the gust, advancing inexorably towards a boy with an odd scar on his cheek. The wind scours away the grainy granite that had adhered themselves to its sticky hide, revealing its colour as it stops a foot from the dirty blonde haired candidate, staring up intently into his eyes.

Sunbleached rushes are gathered in generous bundles, strung with amber fruits and draped in ropes of acorns to sheath the hide of this autumnal brown hatchling. Wheaten brown marches across his haunches, slender blades reaching ever upwards against the backdrop of stony taupe. Walnut mottling is scattered over the curve of his belly, dappling his legs and vanishing into the shining cowry-hue of his talons. A smudge of beige whisps upwards caressing the line of his neck, darkening towards teak as it sweeps from headknobs to tailtip -- a smear of caramel and amaretto drizzling over his eyeridges before being frothed into the burnt creme of his muzzle. Butterscotch defines the arcs of his wingbones as subtle shades of honey sweeten the line of each pinion, fading out along the smooth expanse of his 'sails to the kahlua of gossamer membranes and dark eggnog at trailing edges.

Gazed but Untouched Egg goes THUMP THUMP THUMP Even over the howl of the wind, the eerie knocking noise can be heard out, its sound corresponding exactly with the movement from the depths of the egg. A piece of its midnight wall pulses rhythmically out, as it's occupant strains to work its way free. The wind deposits more dirt, complete this time with a rather disoriented cluster of crawlies.

The chaos of candidates and hatchlings darting about the sands, Impressing or dodging one another only increases with the addition of the wind that attempts to knock the unstable hatchlings from their feet, and plaster them with detritus.

Laisa stares round at the other hatchlings, and rocking eggs, until she gets whacked in the face with a fruit peel, "Euch" she peels it of, wiping off her face.

Ryann shields her eyes against another gust of wind and what appears to be some sort of tumbling object. She steps back to avoid it and quickly looks back where she had stepped, as though to make sure no hatchling is waiting there to claw her or such.

Dalin still trying to see ahead. "I still can't see... not many left. I think. How many are out there... 3? Anyone see?" he oviously can. The wind and rain make it enough for him to have to hold his hands out - one crossing the other, in front of his face.

Benvi nods several times at Zari's statement as she squints out ahead of her. "Yeah, they are. They really are...B-before we know it, this'll be over." She shudders involuntarily and grasps Zarabi's now sweat-free hand tightly in hers.

Evalenth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

V'ten grins. "When you think about it, this's kind of funny. I bet we look pretty stupid out here, huh? And some of these dragons are so.. covered up with junk and that sort of st--" Abruptly, Vette's blue-grey eyes widen as they lock on the hatchling before him. "Ryanath? My.. voice? Food?" Corvetten, Vette, V'ten utters shakily. Then, more confidently, "Right. Food. C'mon, Ryanath. Let's get some."

T'hren ducks a flying shrubbery, and curses quietly as he turns only to be thudded with a twig at his arm. "Where did I sign up for abuse?" he mutters. He works for N'all? That should answer that. He heads for the newest pair then, brightening. "Food is right this way, now. Ryanath, is it? C'mon, follow me," he urges, leading the pair away.

Regal Liberation Egg pirouettes in place, dancing amid the winds that blow its shell this way and that. The tumultuous sky that burgeons across the surface seems to be in competition with the one that's descended on the Weyr: black clouds matched in the sky above. Leaves blow across it's shell and for a moment it's completely enshrouded, then, in a blink of an eye it's uncovered once more by the capricious winds. Sandy hollow is banished, the war for release has begun in earnest, and everything is at risk.

V'ten walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Niare walks over from the Weyrling Room.

Converged Cyclone Hatchling creels softy, the sound almost lost in the winds. Another creel erupts from the hatchling, higher and more demanding than the last. Drenched wings drag behind with each step, covering the dragon in a layer of egg shell, goo, and now plastered sand. This is no longer an adventure but something within the small dragon drives it forward. Must find.

T'hren strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Dark images twist like windy shadows over the surface of the Down to the Sea Egg as it shifts and stretches violently. Finally, the jagged spirals shatter and their dual sides pull apart, causing a cave-in of the dirt and seaweed that had been resting on its surface. Some shards fly away and some stick to gooey hide as the hatchling inside rips feverishly to free itself. A moment later, a small figure surges out, leaving very little of the seaweed rabble behind in its shards.

---*** Meshed Seaweed Hatchling ***---

Sand and sparkly brine are plastered against this hatchling's flanks, revealing not even an inch of the colour beneath. Ghastly tendrils of thick, brownish-green seaweed wrap around its wingsails, stretching between them and then dragging lazily on the floor below. One bulky strand is wedged between its head knobs and hangs down to all but block the hatchling's vision. The ochre-colored jelly that squishes between its feet and covers the back of its right front limb emits a rather unpleasant fishy smell. Crumbled bits of eggshell are stuck around its talons and legs, with one sizable shard plastered against the underbelly. A train of warped and beaten kelp is caught in the ridges near its hindquarters, trailing behind along the length of its tail.

Ryann squeaks and jumps to the side of Vette as their handhold is loosened. "Wait, no, you can't leave me here," she says almost accusingly at the hatchling and Vette. Then she realizes how she must sound as they walk away and calls out, "Uh, congratulations!"

Zarabi squeezes Benvi's hand as she accepts it. "It will be a relief to get out of this weather," she says evenly, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the winds. She shudders as a damp tunic or something flies over and clings to her arm. She frees it, releasing it again into the winds, unable to see the Impression from where she stands.

Panell looks around as he hears the call of another name. "Did someone just impress?" Panell asks as he glances around, trying to find the source of the voice. "Is that Corvetten over there with a dragon?"

Atharvan shakes his head in wonderment as he lets out a peal of soft laughter erupt, "They just keep on hatching, don't they?" He smiles before blinking, spotting Corvetten near the now named Ryanath, telling V'ten as he departs, "Oh, Faranth, that's a lovely name, Vette!" He winces as he spots the Converged Cyclone Hatchling drag its wings, nudging Em as he tells her: "The poor thing.."

Encrusted Paradise Egg splits in two, the beautiful world of its shell opening like a flower to reveal the shimmering brown dragonet within. He solemnly looks up to the sky and lets out a long low bugle. Let life begin! Struggling to his feet, he makes his way towards the candidates, inspecting each and every one. Sniffing, considering. Down the line he goes until finally he stops at the attractive young man from the Seacraft. Aleron blinks, staring down at the dragonet for a moment before throwing himself around the mahogany neck. "Sidrailth?" A'ler agrees totally. "Oh yes, it -is- a nice place and you're the best thing in it."

Ariene shivers, peering into the darkness. At Ryann's loud squeak, her head jerks thataway and she smiles, offering only that in congratulations for Vette. He wouldn't hear her anyways.

Aegamar jumps, "Congrat's Vette. I knew you'd Impress." He grins inpsite of the wind and debris.

Dalin looks over to Corvetten---V'ten?---as he acknowldgesthe hatchling. A small nod comes from his accompined by a "Congrats" though he can't see, voices are somewhat clear.

Shimmering Sealife Hatchling pauses when it nearly stumbles into a tail larger than itself in the midst of its explorations. Something else blown onto the Sands by the wind? It tips its head back, following the line of tail, to back, to head, and blinks. Whoa. Dad's huge! The baby offers a polite croon of apology for the near collision, and returns to its important investigations, like checking out its own tail trailing after it. It wiggles, it shimmies, it shakes in the wind. Those white things over there don't seem to have tails, though, poor things. The dragonet, pushing to struggle against the gale, heads over to find out why.

Xirriel lifts his shuddering hand, and attempts to direct his companions' attention upon Shimmering Sealife Hatchling, as the newly-hatched dragonet inspects each strange, fluttering projectile it can seize. "Look.. Look at that one. Certainly doesn't seem to mind this wind," exclaims Xirri, as he uneasily sways back and forth, heart pounding against his chest. "Ehn.. Corvetten? Impressed?" He seems not to have witnessed such.

Converged Cyclone Hatchling's head snaps around as something catches its attention. Perhaps it was the flutter of a leaf thrust across the grounds by the wind, or maybe it is that which the leaf flies toward that the hatchling's attention snaps to. Body tensed, the dragonet immediately takes off, an arrow of awkward legs and wings aimed at a certain, scrawny young man. Trying to skid to a stop just in front of him, the great vibration of movement shakes his hide clear, revealing his true colours to the sands.

Ocean's might rises, ferocity unveiled and unrestrained in the open sea to overwhelm the hide of this briny blue hatchling. The once serene waters have been transformed into a churning cauldron washing along his flanks, enveloping his shoulders in complete darkness. Bright sapphire glitters, tempestuous surge stirring phosphorescent markings over muzzle and headknobs, while pale aquamarine encircles the base of his neckridges -- seafoam clinging to the rocks that tower from the waves, kelp green holding fast to tail's tip. Day's light has fled, leaving storm's anger to encroach the curve of his belly, malevolence palpable in limbs, concluding in ebon talons. Thunderclouds coalesce into a mass across pinions, swirling dark and angry -- lightning flashing over wingbones before gradually fading amid 'sails in the pale azure of a new morning.

Ryanath moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Aegamar looks to Ryann and takes her hand. "Well, that leaves us." He winks at her and turns back to the commotion.

Laisa directed her gaze to the Shimmering Sealife Hatchling, muttering, "poor thing, struggling against that wind"

T'hren strides over from the Weyrling Room.

Emerlienne glances out at the hatchling shapes she can see, grimacing. "I know how they feel. I don't like this weather any more than they do." she comments, holding fast to Atharvan, leaning on the candidate a little for support and protection.

Trust Betrayed Egg continues to rock steadily. The movements are sharp enough that it's clear it's not the wind, but little more than hairline cracks show as yet. It's as if the hatchling is inside, carefully preparing itself for its entrance into the wild and windy world, rather than rushing out to meet the chaos.

Benvi gives a single emphatic nod. "Yes. This weather is terrible...but I've only said that about fifteen thousand times today?" She peers over in the direction the squeal comes from, squints even more and then sighs. "Still can't see much. Who Impressed? Can you figure that out?" She practically clings to her sister.

Ryann glances sidelong at Aggy and nods with an indecisive expression. "Yeah, leaves us," she says, looking in the direction Vette had left as though he'd abandoned both her and Aggy. She bites her lower lip and shakes her head, "We'll be all right."

Ariene nibbles on her bottom lip, catching it and holding it in anxious nervousness. "Oh, shards...Please.." Glancing around she tries to catch any other going ons.

A huge muddy-grey leaf that was torn free from an Umbrella tree begins to slither across the sand. The mystery of the power behind its locomotion is solved as a forest-green tail discards the last of the Invasion of Colour Egg and hindlegs scramble backwards, revealing a vivid turquoise-green dragonet. Wings unfurled, she picks his way across the cluttered sands. Stymied by a branch, she stumbles awkwardly, right in front of a rather blank-faced Treave. How they manage to impress is beyond those around them, but Paenath and the befuddled yet handsome T'eve manage to get themselves off the sands and out of the winds.

Shimmering Sealife Hatchling stops to inspect a knot of candidates, tilting its head to one side. Nope, it wasn't mistaken- they definitely don't have tails. The dragonet offers its sympathies with a little warble, and moves on. Every one of these things must be inspected for... taillessness? No, there's something else here, somewhere, beckoning, and the baby's movements hasten in its eagerness to discover the source.

P'nell just stares at the blue dragon in front of him, a tentative hand reaching out to touch the hide. "Varanth?" P'nell gaps as he looks at the dragon with absolute awe. "Yes, I am yours." P'nell mutters happily, tears coming to his eyes.

Life explodes under the midnight surface of the Gazed but Untouched Egg. The sleeping presence within writhes and wiggles as it struggles towards the unknown. Freedom comes with a large crack that sends a spray of shards into the air. The hatchling inside chips away at the opening with both talons and muzzle before finally ripping the path towards its destination. Moments later, the figure rolls free, visible but somehow still obscured by the wind and debris that fill the Sands.

---*** Blemished Wasteland Hatchling ***---

Fine, silky layers of cinnamon-coloured sand stretch out like endless dunes along this hatchling's flanks, looking more like mud along the underbelly and around its legs. Battered bits of milky eggshell randomly litter the sandy landscape, like bits of rock on the dusty field. Rolling ridges hint their way out through clumps of dirt but are not quite visible enough for their hues to be determined and disappear entirely on tail and back. An occasional twig or leaf wavers through the dirt, like a single plant in a desolate wasteland. Sediment hangs heavily on the newborn wings, making them droop lazily toward the ground. On one wing, a Crawlie has been crushed against the 'sail, trampled against the sea of sand.

Zarabi shakes her head. "The only ones I saw were Ashyra and Dal- D'ziel," she replies, squinting into the indistinct haze of particles. "I looking forward to seeing the hatchlings and it is rather difficult," she adds.

Varanth creels again, a rather demanding note entering his tone now.

Niare pauses for a moment to take stock, but notices just then, the skidding hatchling, she reroutes, her steps carrying her towards P'nell and the blue. "Ah, good. Very nice," she says, approvingly. "And Varanth, you said? Come right this way." She turns to lead the way off the sands, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they're following.

Atharvan blinks at Panell, "This... I can see this..." Van looks as proud as he possibly could, nearly forgetting the wind as he tells Panell, now named P'nell, "Panell... You... Congratulations, my friend." He grins wide, "And such a handsome dragon, Panell! Congratulations!"

Niare walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

P'nell grins to his friends before he walks off, still in awe at having impressed.

P'nell walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Xirriel, despite his edginess, manages to choke out a small laugh, as his amber-threaded gaze again flickers upon the Shimmering Sealife Hatchling. "'Nell? 'Van? Did you see that one? Seemed to be talking to his sire.." Suddenly, the young man throws his arms back, to balance himself against a pushing hiss of air.. As his sandal-clad feet press firmly to the dampened earth once more, his awed gaze twists upon Panell.. "Panell! And.. Varanth! Congratulations!" The jubilant candidate all but leaps off the sands, as he admires the pair.

Meshed Seaweed Hatchling takes three steps and lets out a surprised and outraged bugle, it can't see!. In an awkward attempt to investigate the situation, an attempt is made to lift one talon up clear away a large strand of seaweed.. This was not a well thought-out plan, it appears as the hatchling collapses into a heap on the sand and the hatchling's right talon is now entangled in something rather unpleasant if the murmurs and low grumbles are any indication.. As a gust of wind blows across the bowl, the seaweed whips around, creating an effective blindfold.

Varanth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Emerlienne blinks as the dragon takes one of her protectors away from her. "Panell, congratulations!" she cries out suddenly, surprised. "Guess it's just use then?" she says to Atharvan and Xirriel.

Embrace the Dream Egg shivers, a ripple beginning at the ebony crown, and working its way down the sides of the shell. Sprinkled silver seems to sparkle like stars in the night's sky, the motion setting them to life. As a violent gust of wind showers the surface with sand and branches, all falls still once more, the occupant huddling back down into a defensive slumber.

Dalin looks over to one side as he hears a little more comotion. He looks at Panell... P'nell. "Congratulations ha says smiling. His eyes scan the sands then from the other - diminishing hatchlings.

The vermillion slashes that sharply decorate the Trust Betrayed Egg widen, expand, and breach at last -- not with a bang, but with a splintering sound that's barely audible over the wild and swirling winds. The slate hinted marble of the egg is quickly lost beneath a swirl of sand and a scattering of jungle leaves as they're blown in. With a shake, the hatchling hauls itself from the shards with a bugle-squawk of annoyance at the indignity it now faces.

---*** Walking Shrubbery Hatchling ***---

A thick thatch of jungle greenery blew in at just the wrong time for this newly hatched dragon. Caught in a riot of twigs, leaves, and vine scraps, it's as if a particular tangled patch of the jungle up and decided to take a walk in a sandstorm. Certainly it's not a terribly dignified beginning for the hatchling now swathed in torn leaf-scrap of beryl, malachite, olive and sage -- and with dark gray-brown branches hampering the movement of both legs and tail, it's not going anywhere fast. Even where the greens shift and move, there's always another swirl of sand, blasting away any hint of form, much less of colour, well and truly hiding this new dragonet from the world.

Benvi sighs, her posture slumping momentarily. "I only really saw D'ziel Impress," she admits, "and you know, I was looking forward to seeing the Hatchlings as well. Weather never cooperates." She shifts uncomfortably and with her free hand begins plucking at the fabric of her robe.

Regal Liberation Egg seems to battle with itself, one moment its still and then the next it's rocking to and fro frantically, almost as though the inhabitant was trying to work out the best way to escape. A dark ruby fragment is pushed out, trickling down the side of the ovoid as though actual wax were melting. Spinner-lines appear along the fragile surface, the vellum finally crackling with age to flake away, inky black now in domination. Having escaped the debris flying through the caverns for some time, it enable to move enough to avoid the leaves, insects and flowers that seem to have been ripped straight from the jungle, completely obliterating it from sight.

Atharvan gives Xirriel a big grin, "Looks as if our club has gained one more member, Xirri." Once again, Atharvan looks out to the sea of sands, debris, and hatchlings, "What do you think that one is looking for?" He nods toward the Shimmering Sealife Hatchling. He pauses, and nods toward the latest hatching, he asks Xirri and Emerlienne, "Are those vines on that one?"

The Shimmering Sealife Hatchling seems to have made up it's mind, the head held high as it wanders closer to a bunch of candidates. Just at the moment, where it seems it's going to finally choose, a dust devil swirls out of the sands, covering it in grainy particles. When the sand moves onwards it leaves a bewildered dragonet behind, the Forest Sanctuary Green hide abraded clean of the clinging seaweed that had hidden it before. Eyes blink and then she tilts her head to one side, warbling a question to the hazelnut brown haired candidate in front of her.

Hidden amid a sheltered forest sanctuary, dusky viridescence encases oaken trunks grouped like silent sentinels -- wooden forms whose edges blend near seamlessly across the rich deciduous green of this hatchling's hide. Dark jade creeps over her shoulders and haunches, evocative of willowy saplings, their feathery fingers brushing each neckridge in their quest towards the ever illusive light. Shadows dance along the mossy curve of her belly, wooded grove's floor captured in atramentous talons, while smudges of a more earthen hue trail the length of her tail. Her pinions are formed from lichen encrusted branches, wingsails a leafy mosaic of variegated hues -- a vibrant blanket composed of translucent vernal hues interwoven with golden motes that hang suspended in spring's depths, as if morning sunlight dappled the ancient canopy.

A chance gust of wind catches a pair of candidates unawares, sending their robes upwards. Only their startled yelps betrayed their misfortune for the murky air nicely protected their modesty. For now.

Niare strides over from the Weyrling Room.

After a brief internal battle, the World's Truth Egg rips open violently, allowing the leaves and twigs covering it to cave into its shell. The debris appears again, this time plastered over the gooey surface of a dragonet. The hatchling spends only one unsuccessful moment trying to free itself before wandering toward the semicircle of white robes. One male with long blonde hair is spotted and the green hatchling stops in front of Warrell. "Ritath!" He calls out. "Oh yes, you're pretty too. Lets get some food." J'mis steps out to lead W'rell and Ritath away.

Meshed Seaweed Hatchling realizes the debris is not about to leave, no matter how hard a head is shaken and gathering as much dignity as is possible under the circumstance, the hatchling sets about to the business at hand. Wind gusts cause the hatchling to outstretch wobbly wings, desperately looking for balance but the wind brings a blessing and the largest strand of seaweed is blown clean from his vision. And thus, the little one crosses the sands, pausing to croon a low, pleasant greeting to both Dam and Sire. The debris? The best thing to do is ignore it. A bigger adventure awaits, now where could that /one/ be?

Blemished Wasteland Hatchling emits mournful cry sails through the hatching chamber, pitiful and lonely as it raises its little head against the gritty wind. The hatchling unfurls its wings, though hue is lost under sand so heavy that the sails droop sadly toward the ground. Its second noise is low and mournful, nearly lost with the whistle of a gust, and it strides forward, half closed eyes seeing only a row of white.

V'tali shakes his head and sighs. "The stuff they get covered in. What a mess. At least MOST of them are still easy enough to make out. If I can just keep the sand out if my eyes, that is." He grins toward the candidates. "I love their nervous, confused little faces. I love candidates. Aren't they adorable?"

Ariene dodges an errant leavy bush, breathing carefully. She edges closer to Benvi and Zarabi. Her hair, little bits having escaped, whip about her eyes.

Xirriel nervously considers his floating hand, which was once clamped within Panell's own.. Shuddering softly, the ex-resident slips closer to Atharvan and Emerlienne, nodding slowly -- he seems to be torn between depthless glee, and brimming anxiety. "Blue Varanth," confirms the candidate, as he swings his vacant hand absently upwards, to tug at unruly, wind-swept tendrils of tangled brown. "Oh.. Oh, yes. It looks coated in.. vines? And leaves.."

Walking Shrubbery Hatchling is apparently really rather non-plussed by the method of its entry into the world. There's a ringingly-bawled bugle of indignation, and the moving shrubbery shakes violently, egg-goo and sand-dipped wingtips showing as the dragonet tries to free itself from its rather awkward confinement. Alas, batter-dipped as they are, so to speak, they reveal little other than the fact that there is indeed a dragon inside the bush.

Ryann calls out her good wishes to P'nell as she hears others doing the same. A hand comes to her chest as though she's sure the sound of her heart is audible and she shifts her weight uncertainly from one foot to the other as she does little more than wait and dodge when necessary.

Emerlienne gasps, "Leianth!" she calls out gleefully, releasing her hold Atharvan. She plucks at her robe with a hand. "It is a bit bland, isn't it?" she comments, then shakes her head. "No food here. No. Let's go find some." Emerlienne glances up, looking for assistance.

Regal Liberation Egg shudders violently a final time, and then abruptly cracks open -- the fragile shell crumbling as the hatchling comes tumbling out of the shell in a colourful blur. The roll quickly coats it in the mess that now litters the cavern floor, finishing as its nose is driven straight into the ground, sliding beneath the debris. Snorting, it lifts its head, one set of eye membranes shuttered against the particulate wind.

---*** Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling ***---

The very floor of the verdant jungle comes to life, adhered to the hide of this damp dragonet. Dark browns and greens coat its flanks and wings in decaying forest life, running up towards its neck, odd jags of material jutting out at strange angles so as to make the hatchling almost bristle. Charred sticks from some past forest fire have lodged at its headknobs, drowning them in a blackened mass of spikes as if to crown the young hatchling. A wisp of thin black cloth flutters at the side of its head, flapping vehemently in the wind.

Laisa grinned, smiling at Emerlienne, "Congratulations!"

T'hren shakes one leg to get rid of a draping of seaweed, giving the debris a mournful look. "I liked this outfit. I really did," he mutters, then dusts off his hands and turns at the sound of another impression. "Emerlienne? Ah-hah! There we are." He crosses over quickly, grinning. "Just through there, you two. There's food and...well, relative quiet."

Embrace the Dream Egg seems to give a soft sigh, shifting in its sleep. The movement is subtle but it is certain, even through the haze of flying sand and debris, that something within is stirring. Something within has dreams too large to be contained in this restrictive shell. Stressed from within by a restless mind, battered from without by flying debris, this egg can't hope to last much longer.

With a twitch of excitement, Blood on the Sand egg suddenly shatters, the color of blood giving way to a hatchling. The hatchling leaves the remnants of his shell and quickly decides to move in search of a partner. No sooner does he do this, than the slate blue hatchling awkwardly side steps into skinny lad, now named Z'aul, who replies in astonishment: "Gharzeth!?" And with the pairing now complete, they make their way off the sands.

Aegamar laughs as Emerlienne impresses, "Congratulations, Merli!" Though smiling, doubt and uncertainty creeps onto his face. Shuffling from side to side, he watches.

Holes begin to appear in the semi-circle of white, one candidate nearly panicking as she is cut off from the rest by a wandering dragonet. She scurries around the hatchling, nearly plowing into another in her haste to rejoin the others.

Atharvan groans, seeing Warrel Impress, "Oh, that's wonderful. Warrel with a green. I'm sure N'all is just going to -love- that." He chortles some before sobering at Blemished Wasteland Hatchling's mournful cry, "That's one sad-sounding keen, don't you think? He blinks at Emerlienne's naming of the green beside her, telling the newly Impressed candidate, "Oh... Emerliennne... She's lovely...Congratulations." He shakes his head, once again pride washes over this candidate's face.

Zarabi continues to peer through the debris. "I think someone just Impressed?" she says uncertainly. "Yes, Impression, though I don't know who or what color," she confirms. She leans over to unstick her hem - again - from her legs.

Leianth butts gently at Emerlienne, looking round quickly. Food? Where?

Ariene's sweeping eyes catch 'Merli's Impression, and she grins. Shouting over the roar of the wind, she says, "Congratulations Merli!" She could see what color, though, hopefully someone else will.

Emerlienne follows Th'ren, nodding to Leianth. "Food is this way. Come on." she says, moving where Th'ren leads her.

Emerlienne strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Dalin looks over to Emerlienne and smiles. "Congrats Merli!" he turns and shuffles on his feet looking forward.

T'hren walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Leianth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Meshed Seaweed Hatchling wonders if the sand splattered, robed creatures might be able to help in the quest. With a sweet trebled croon, the question is asked, ever so politely. Can anyone help? Perhaps they didn't hear, no one seems to have answered. As the approach is made toward the group of candidates, the questioning croon is made once again, yes! this seems to be right. Eagerly pushing forward, the ever-so-polite adventurer appears disoriented by the sand and debris flying through, and so, a wisely considered full-stop is in order.

From within the Tooth's Treasure Egg comes a muffled noise of a crack, then a wiggle, and the egg jumps a few times. More cracks start to appear, branching off the first, until the fissure widens and breaks splits into two. Out of the cracked egg emerges a bronze hatchling. After only a few steps out, he pauses, allowing his eyes to roam over the nearest candidates until they focus in on Tuaden. As his eyes lock with the bronze hatchling's, T'den whispers "Gersath"

Ryann turns her head in the direction she heard Aggy calling. "Well done, Merli!" she calls, voice wavering with another squeak as she moves out of the way of a hatchling come too close.

Benvi nods slowly at Zarabi's words, "Yeah...it's hard to see much, really..." she glances over at Ariene and motions the girl closer. "Was it really Merli?" She chews on her lower lip.

Blemished Wasteland Hatchling seems completely lost in its midst of a cinnamon colored sand which spirals high into the air. For as long as a minute, which seems like forever, the dragonet is blocked from view and its presence is nothing more that its voice calling through the wind. As the sand dies down once again, the hatchling moves forward once again, dragging its poor tired body toward a promising solace.

As if awakening from a deep, slumbering vision, the Embrace the Dream Egg suddenly disintegrates, minute pieces of shell tumbling to the sands in a meteoric shower of sparkling shards. Its occupant remains curled in a ball, as if still encapsulated within protective walls. A bed-sheet cartwheels in wind-blown flight across the Hatching Grounds, then plasters itself over the hatchling, which remains immobile. Is it asleep and unaware that it has made an entrance into a new world, or merely too timid to explore?

---*** Conflagration Cloaked Hatchling ***---

The moment the shell crumbles, shimmering haze and heat waves dance together, blurring the colour of this dragonet. Vaguely seen as a round, motionless form huddled where the egg used to be, it lies dimly hidden in the airborne debris. The luxurious bed-sheet of fiery red, which has covered it in an eye-blink, further conceals the hatchling from view. The slinky fabric, aided by the howling gale and sticky egg goo, has twined itself firmly about its neck and torso, the rippling motion creating an illusion of a blazing conflagration. Only the eyes, muzzle, feet and tail can be seen, and they are encrusted with a layer of sand, further concealing the hide.

Xirriel tilts his head to the side, only serving to assist the wind's eager reach -- his hair is swiftly blown into a fluttering nest of tawny-threads, swinging in every direction. "Oh, shells.." As the dragonet he was earlier studying approaches, he takes an anxious step backwards, and shifts a bit closer to 'Van... As the green, Leianth, finds her bond in Emerlienne, he gasps audibly. "Merli, and Leianth.. Congratulations!" Such said, he shifts closer to his remaining companion: Atharvan. "This is.. incredible. Panell, and Emerlienne.."

Walking Shrubbery Hatchling stops shaking at last, and the branches dip down low, as if the occupant of the shrub was drooping in resigned acceptance of the situation. Awkwardly the branches shudder and shiver, as the walking scrap of jungle starts to make its haphazard way across the sands, in search of its new life. Oh hey! Maybe this is what it's looking for! Oof, wait, no. That was an egg.

After a few hops, the Not Much To Look At Egg gives a final twitch before bursting open to leave a bright and sprightly green on the sands. Looking to her mother for a mere moment, off she goes. Moving to a cluster of girls in the middle of the sands, she hurriedly pushes past one girl in order to rub her head against the target of her desire: a young quiet lass. With tears in her eyes, Etanda drops to her knees to cradle the green head in her hands "Oh yes Noravelth, you and me and no one else." Laying her own head against that of her new lifemate, she cherishes the quiet moment before reluctantly standing to follow J'mis.

Ariene shivers softly, though more from nervousness than cold. Her eyes sweep the stands, but she can't see her father, and she sighs slightly, turning her eyes back to the eggs and hatchlings. Her hands create fists and grab her robe.

Laisa an envious glance is given 'merli, and a "Congratulations" she tuurns to look at the others.

Meshed Seaweed Hatchling slows in its stride before settling down into a seated position on the hot sands. It peers out through the tendril of seaweed that has so blocked its vision, carefully sizing up each of the candidates in turn. Confidently it rises at last, striding purposefully away from its perch with shriveled pieces of seaweed flying from its hide. It beats the last bit of greenery away from its wing just in time to present himself to a boy with short, sandy brown hair.

Water ripples, the still feverish image of a sun reflected within its shallow depths, glistening crests breaking through the copper of this hatchling's hide. Tarnished bronze washes over flanks, incandescent highlights brought to shoulders, while dusky coral delineates haunches where tidal breakers have left their mark. Rusty hues stand against evening's obscurity, mountainous ridges that start at his head and stretch over his back, rolling away into cinnabar at tail's tip. Tropical foliage feathers the curve of his underbelly, hues interspersed with ethereal traces of gilt like a tree bearing fruit, his legs like shadowed trunks rooted in earthen honed talons. Wingsails mirror oceanic glass, burning with fire across his pinions -- the dying day revealed as though lava encroached a brine filled sky, twilight captured in the sea of trailing edges.

T'hren strides over from the Weyrling Room.

Zarabi's expression brightens at addition of a name. "Merli?" she asks. "Oh that's wonderful!" she murmurs. "I just wish I had seen it. Did either of you catch the color?" she asks Benvi and Ariene.

Blemished Wasteland Hatchling suddenly pauses, eyes scanning the semicircle of candidates. Suddenly, the creature rushes forward, its purposeful stride is hindered ridiculously by sand laden wings and newborn legs. It is only a meter away from a couple of teenagers when the wind picks up again, this time a gust so heavy that it beats against the dragonet's wings. Another sad note is heard on the winds as the hatchling is once again blocked from view.

Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling shivers in the wind, though whether from cold or just from the itchy sensation that jungle debris has to be causing it's uncertain. It tries, somewhat valiantly, to dislodge the black cloth that's fluttering at the side of it's head, but to no avail: the cloth seems firmly attached by virtue of egg goo and the quick drying heat of the sands. It creels, looking around for some direction, it surely wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? Maybe its shell would be a better place to rest out the storm? Seems not, for at that moment of uncertainty, a gust of wind lifts up its leaf-shrouded tail and propels it forward a few steps, giving rise to a few startled bugles.

Walking Shrubbery Hatchling manages to work its way around the egg, and shuffles in a leafy fashion towards the row of candidates. This is something of a complex procedure, and involves necessary pauses here and there, either as the bush's occupant finds its feet, or considers its choices. The leaves and branches turn then, and arrow for a certain section of the white-robed line.

Laisa grins at the startled Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling, watching the wind propel it forward.

Dalin looks forward to the few hatchlings left, frowning. "I hope they'll be alright. After all... that just hatched. You guys thinks they can stand this weather?" he asks to no one in particular, but asks still.

Conflagration Cloaked Hatchling was not asleep, no. Nor too timid to explore. It merely was taking stock of its surroundings, its situation. That, and being draped in an especially fine red bedsheet. Immediate exploration is delayed by befuddlement, not to mention blindness. Well, at least the sheet keeps flying sand out of newborn eyes. A tentative step, and then another, carries the dragonet away from what is left of its egg, the flecks of shell scattering with the wind. Small fragments cling to sand-encrusted feet and claws, as those first movements are taken toward the culmination of its goal - to find its lifemate. And its way out from under this sheet, while it's at it.

Ariene squeezes her eyes shut and then opens them, remember she needs to be ready to dodge. Eyes wide, she glances around the hatching sands. With a scratch at her right arm, her the tip of her tongue comes to lick at her dry lips.

Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling seems to step past its dam, for a large dark shadow is seen moving, but a snort sends it towards the white-robed things: hopefully they won't mind the smell of decaying jungle for it seems even Tiarnath's poor sense of smell caught the whiff of that fragrance!! The pathetic little collection of greens and browns stumbles across the stands, almost getting whacked across the head by a passing branch, though thankfully it ducked at the right moment to observe something interesting on the sands. There's a gentle nudge of the thing on the floor, a pair of knickers that fell from a washing basket, or at least what can be seen of a pink frilly mass now resting on the edge of the dragonet's muzzle. Too many challenges!! How *does* one get rid of all this stuff? It weighs a tonne!

Blemished Wasteland Hatchling looks a little lost and bewildered as it stumbles around, almost distraught in its confusion. It flutters its wings weakly and opens its maw, letting a soft creel emerge, plaintive and sad, quite possibly one of the most melancholy sounds ever conceived. The little dragon's head swivels to and fro but, try as it might, the person of its affections is no where to be seen. The hatchling stands, shaking and trembling in place for long moments before its head suddenly snaps to an alert position -- wait! Without warning the hatchling jets off, almost tripping and tumbling, occasionally nigh unto falling with each jerking motion of its body, before halting to stare deep into the eyes of the person for whom it was looking.

Tendrils of sunlight bring a luscious garden to life, herb and flower alike vying for the radiant iridescence of this verdant green hatchling. Tiny indigo blossom-shapes mix amid the needle-like patterns that delineate her hide, lending her flanks a slightly bluish cast reminiscent of dried rosemary while wispy fronds of dill blend across her shoulders to create a vibrant, verdant landscape. Dark green balances atop her muzzle as though the broad leaves of water lilies danced on a pond's surface, the tones muted by mint sprigs that wreathe her eyeridges. Colour flows into the triumvirate leaves that trail along her spine, the wild creepers stretching from head to tail resembling garlands of ivy. Wings of sage are spun with the delicate traceries of a spinner's web, their strands strewn with droplets of morning dew. Stony talons complete the idyllic scene, bordering a path of order through a wild and untamed cottage oasis.

Benvi absently shakes her head, her lips forming a slightly grim line as she peers forward. "I think ... no. I didn't catch anything, I'm afraid." She frowns and twists some of the loose fabric of her robe around her fingers.

A trio of candidates gather together at one end of the cavern, pointing and watching, backs turned against the main wind. The wind shifts direction minutely, but enough that as it hits the far wall, an eddy forms and the girls are suddenly faced with the wind from a new direction. They squeal in surprise, ducking their heads.

It's gradual, at first, but pushing inexorably onwards, it slowly happens. The Extinction of Stripes Egg crumbles into non-existence, leaving a blue hatchling in its wake. He seems to know right from the start that Jasaon is just for him, for he moves towards that youngest boy and stops before him. "You're still here," J'aon exclaims, delighted. "Yes, Quanth. I am, too."

Conflagration Cloaked Hatchling seems determined to make progress, despite the persistence of the twisted cloth that enshrouds it, and a continued inability to free itself from beneath. It gives a shudder, and that bedsheet shimmies like a dancing girl's skirt. This hatchling may be in disguise, but is certainly not in camoflauge, the brilliant scarlet making it stand out so well even amidst the fury of the elements. Finally, it may not have managed to escape, but at least it has discovered an eyehole - a largeish tear from all the abuse suffered, manages to meet up with one faceted, whirling eye. The inner two sets of lids clamp shut immediately. Now a one-eyed, scarlet monster, the dragonet has achieved vision, and begins marching toward the white-robed ranks.

The once quiet Peace At Last Egg starts moving with a panicked fervour. Falling silent momentarily, it's hard to see the jewel-like blue snout that's soon followed by a head before the shell dissolves. Gaining his feet, he's soon making his way unsteadily across the sands with a sense of determination. Stopping first before an average-sized girl, then moving to a strapping lad from Ista, he gives a frustrated chuff as though quickly losing his initial concentration. With one last turn of his head, the blue finds himself before a young boy who's been self-consciously pleating his robe in his fingers. V'sol soon finds himself standing a bit straighter as he looks down at the blue before him "I'll do that just for you Coreth." And just like that, the new blue pairing is escorted off the sands.

Laisa giggles quietly at the marching scaret --thing--

Ariene catches the small darting scarlet of the Conflagration Clocked Hatchling. "I see one!" Pointing, it...goes away. "Wait, where'd it go?" Her stormy eyes scan quickly, "I ca--There it is!"

Xirriel acquires a rather annoyed expression, as the wind-twirled sands lap along his features.. Blinking hard, the young man pauses, before rubbing hesitantly at his blurry, emerald eyes. "Shards.. This sand.." Mumbling softly, he manages to clear his vision, and then, squinting, studies the tumultuous sands. "I suppose I'm stating the obvious, but, this is quite annoying." A weak smile is attempted, before Xirri resorts to appearing quite shaky, gaze skittering here and there.

Ryann ducks from a small flying branch and glances about her quickly. She reaches a hand up to shake the sand out of her hair once more and moves the other to peel her robe away from her skin. She blinks as a hatchling passes by her, an almost hopeful, or maybe hopeless, expression crossing her features.

Atharvan blinks at the Blemished Wasteland Hatchling, cowering some as it begins its jet toward him, however, as she reveals her luscious green shade, kneels and nearly weeps at the sight, "Never alone..." And soon, exclaims, "Oh, Kaelyth!" He smiles brilliantly at the green before looking toward the WLM and his assistants, "We get you fed, now."

The Walking Shrubbery Hatchling shuffles and huffs its way along the rows and clumps of candidates, stopping suddenly, stilling completely. A gust of wind provides the only movement around this hatchling, stirring the tenacious cocoon of green branches clinging to its hide as it considers a hazel eyed candidate with honey cinnamon hair. Abruptly it shifts and shakes, shedding its masking foliage to reveal a Shadowed Wood Brown hide to the world, all the while regarding his new-found lifemate with whirling eyes.

A scattering of pale parchment sprawls haphazardly across the regimented planking of a floor, chaos and order fighting their endless war for prominence across the hide of this shadowed-wood brown hatchling. Rich hardwood hues blend and blur, and dark beams lend solid support to his lines even as smoke darkened oak plays over flanks, forming an illusion of sturdy construction, orderly and well defined. Soot shades already tenebrous walnut wingspars -- the same colour glazed with sunlight's gleam brightening the actual wing's sails in delineated symmetry. Amidst the harmony, anarchy too must find its place and it does. Brighter cream and vellum tones lend highlight and startling effulgent moments to the murky depths of his neckridges and belly, like sheets of paper left to fall where they might in a dim and dusky garret.

T'hren hop skips over a rolling bundle of weeds, then turns at hearing someone call out. He squints, shields his eyes, then suddenly strides over, brows lifting in a sudden grin. "Well, now. Got yourself a lady in your head, did you? You're in for a life of fun," he assures the once-Atharvan wryly. "C'mon, let's get her some food. Mustn't keep a lady waiting."

G'mar sinks to the ground, arms around his lifemate, "Davanoth! Yes, I know...I'm hungry too." He rises to lead his lifemate from the sands

Conflagration Cloaked Hatchling moves in a slightly awkward fashion, trying to keep up a smart march, yet being buffeted by fierce winds, remaining entangled by a crimson sheet, and of course, having to walk with its head cocked sideways to allow a clear line of sight. Candidates are dismissed perfunctorily as it strides, in wobbly baby fashion, past them, heading down the line. This dragonet has business to attend to, and has no time now to waste. Where is the one it seeks? Suddenly, shrouded head swivels. That one. That one, the tall, slim one with the tawny hair. A bee-line is begun... but foiled, as the dratted drapery cinches still more constrictingly about its legs. Must break free! Must! Get! Out!

Niare strolls along, carefully threading between drifts of detritus, ducking a driven dusting of sand as she heads over towards G'mar. "Congratulations," she says with a pleased smile for the bronze. "And what did he call you?" she ask him. "Oh, and if you could follow me, we'll get him some food."

Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling finally manages to get rid of the pink knickers, sending them flying across the Hatching Sands to hit some poor Candidate in the face. Hopefully they're clean! Well, they were, now they likely reek of the jungle debris this poor hatchling is carrying around. A couple of leaves fall off of its body, but nothing more than that, and it seems now to be considering the candidates, walking past a number of girls and boys and leaving the delightful stomach-sickening smell in its wake.

Dalin's feet plant in the ground, keeping his balance how it should be. He looks forward, squinting - but turns toward where he belives Atharvan is, a nod coming from him. "Congratulations Atharvan" he says, noding, and turns back to the sands.

G'mar looks up, "G'mar...I Like it." He beams and strokes the hatchlings neckridges

T'hvan gives T'hren a laugh, before giving Kaelyth another fond look, "Oh, I believe so... Yes.. I can feel her hunger." He gives Kaelyth another fond look before nodding toward the area where the new weyrlings are, "We're going there. We'll get you fed there. I know you're hungry, love."

Niare walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
G'mar strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
T'hren walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
T'hvan walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Kaelyth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Dalin turns, then, to G'mar. "Grats, Aegamar" he says plainly, and turns back to the sands.

There are much fewer figures in white now, their number diminished by the number of impressions already made. Those that remain move closer, seeking shelter and solace.

Ryann blinks repeatedly after Aegamar, lower lip almost coming out in a sort of pout. "You, too!" she asks and exclaims in the same instant. "He's beautiful, Aggy," she assures him as he turns away. "Well done!"

After much shivering and shaking, rifts in the arctic shell of the Suffocating Sapphire egg begin to appear and bits of equally chilling blue dragonet are exposed. Try as he might, the small blue just cannot escape his shell and soon starts keening loudly. In a flash, a white blonde head is kneeling before the trapped dragonet, prying the last bit of shell from the frosted blue hide. "Don't worry, Cranath, I'll get you out." Evseon, now E'son, reassures his new lifemate. Soon the two are walking off, already deep in conversation about the ways of the universe.

Niare walks over from the Weyrling Room.

The chaos seems to be diminishing, as both the wind begins to subside and the number of people and dragons on the sands begins to dwindle. Candidates peer towards the galleries, in one of their first opportunities to try to see their families.

Zarabi freezes in place as her eyes lock with the brown hatchling. She reaches out towards him , standing as still as she before gently wrapping her arms around him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Aidath," she murmurs, pulling back again to get a better look at him. She turns to her sister, giving her a wide, teary-eyed smile of pure joy.

T'hren strides over from the Weyrling Room.

The journey across the sands is long and arduous, the hot air spiraling upwards slowly but inexorably drying the hide of the Thorn-Crowned Jungle Hatchling. Change is inevitable as the egg's viscositydissipates, offering tantalizing shimmers of the glowing hue beneath. Finally, sunlight reveals in truth what was hidden before -- shadows banished as though a precious discovery was made in this Saffron Gold. The person in front of her is considered once more, and then a snort is made, head lowered to nudge a girl with sargassum green eyes firmly in the stomach.

Marble pavilions rise in an elegant testimony to a bygone age, their gilded pillars styled under an eastern influence that lends ethereal ambience to the hide of this gold hatchling. A ruddy glow is bestowed on saffron flanks, shadows banished by the torchlight that gleams along her shoulders -- the quiet serenity disturbed by golden motes of dust. Carved from yellow sandstone, friezes decorate her neckridges, each inlaid with feathery strokes of iridescent malachite and peacock blue -- a magnificent but now muted reminder of a glorious past. Burnished gold shrouds the curve of her belly, as though polished by many devoted hands, while exotic flowers entwine legs rooted in adamantine talons. Pinions are embraced by sunlight of a hue so deep as to banish all else, unfathomable as the heavens themselves, while the gentle warmth of a harvest moon brings a filigreed luster to her wingsails.

Xirriel swats urgently at a piece of wayward parchment, which has firmly hooked its grasp into the candidate's plain, alabaster robe. No longer quite so distracted, the candidate lifts his gaze -- and warily regards the approaching, darkling figure. However, as the green presents herself to his friend, he utters a triumphant, "Atharvan..! She's absolutely.. beautiful.." Nearly breathless, the tawny-haired candidate watches, as his last companion departs.. And then, begins frantically glancing about for company.

No sooner is Niare out on the sands before she runs towards Zarabi. "Oh, good. Congratulations, Zarabi. Right this way," she directs, waving her hand to motion the girl to follow.

Niare walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Aidanth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Zarabi touches the brown tenderly, reassuring him. "Yes, I'll show you the way to the food," she says, leading the brown off the sands.

Zarabi strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Despite many attempts as it manoeuvers across the sands, Conflagration

Cloaked Hatchling has been unable to lose the bed sheet confining its wings and movement, either by shaking or shimmying. Sheer frustration has it clawing at the fabric so that rents begin to form in the fiery red material. Just as it stumbles on one trailing edge of the large square, glimpses of flame-lit bronze hide appear through the enlarging tears. Balance lost, he falls at the feet of a candidate with tawny locks and vibrant gaze, peering up through what is left of the shredded sheet that hangs in jagged strands about his body. Head raises and whirling gaze locks onto those emerald eyes, all vexation suddenly forgotten.

Russet flames flicker against stone, a molten illusion that reflects off a torch-lit pool, warring with night's shadows as they seek to enshroud this bronze hatchling's hide. Blaze-hued streaks flow down his back to tail's tip, mingling with midnight whorls, each seeking dominance over shoulders and haunches -- gilded sparks bursting through tangled swirls of copper and obsidian to highlight limestoned neckridges. Tenebrosity inflicts its light-voiding presence on marbled pinions, swathing each slim buttress with smoky residue only to be obliterated by an incandescent heat over glassy wingsails, the backlit luminescence of a dozen firebrands emphasizing etched patterns on liquescent membranes. Pillar-like legs support his stony frame, dusk and burnished chestnut entwining each limb until darkness overcomes, covering rock-solid talons in ebon obscurity.

Dalin's neck turns to Zarabi and smiles. "Congrats, Zarabi" he says. He then turn, looking into the sands once more - for and shadow of a hatchling.

Laisa looks at Zarabi, envious, before turning back to the sands.

Davanoth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Exciting Confusion Egg gives a lurch and a shudder and amid the mess of color that makes up its shell, a web of cracks appears. Chips of egg go flying everywhere as a large green blob hatches. It doesn't take her long to get to her feet and evaluate the world. As far as she's concerned this world is going to need -lots- of improvements and she's just the dragon to see it done. Now if only she can find a suitable person to help her. Ah, that girl. She's pretty enough, no need to fix her. She'll do just fine. With a shake of her emerald head and a blink of jeweled eyes she heads straight over to Whynne. Over the groan of her fellow candidates the girl smiles, "Of course we can Adeliath, let's just get you cleaned up first. You look a mess!"

Niare walks over from the Weyrling Room.

Benvi is about to offer a smile to her sister when a head butts into her stomach. She looks down and quaking hand out to touch the dragon's muzzle. Her dragon. "Yes...oh...I hadn't...Oh, right away, Faeanth. Right away." With that she guides her new lifemate towards the food.

T'hren is no sooner back out of the sands again before he starts towards one pair, then veers off at J'mis getting there first. He splutters out more dirt from his face as he heads for commotion, then blinks down at the newest pair. "Aaaah. Well, now. Faeanth? And there we have it. This way, Benvi," he offers with a warm smile, leading the way.

Benvi strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Faeanth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
T'hren strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

V'tali watches the last pairs being led to the feeding bins and oil vats. "What an utter mess," he remarks, shaking his head at the catastrophe that is the hatching grounds. "This is going to be awful to clean up. If the wind ever stops blowing enough to make it worth trying to clean in the firs tplace, that is.

Dalin looks back as Benvi - too - leads her dragon away. He smiles, and turns around to the sands once more.

Ryann blinks and blinks again, looking over the sands without a thought to covering her eyes. She seems a little lost, standing there alone -or at least not with her standing partners- and looks around slowly.

Laisa watches as Benvi leads away her dragon, and turns her attention back to the sands, alone.

Xirriel swallows down his swelling concern, and begins stepping warily in the direction of the nearest throng of alabaster-clad candidates.. However, his steps falter, as the garnet-cloaked figure approaches. Shivering fiercely, the young man turns, viridian gaze desperately seeking a path, away from this hatchling. Yet, as the creature tumbles to his feet, Xirri's breath catches within his throat. In an instant, he's pouring upon the sands, trembling digits tenderly sorting away the clinging, crimson sheet. "Y-yes, Zuirinth.. All is well. You've found me.." A smile flashes across his features, as he nods steadily. "Food, of course.. My Zuirinth needs food!"

As the wind begins to die down, all that remains on the sands are the scattered shells of the now empty eggs, occasionally kicked up into eddies that swirl with the grainy particles. The dragonets and their lifemates have begun the bonding process while the rest of the candidates wander the sands, their expressions revealing the variety of emotions. Some are relieved, others are not.

Niare tries to stop and catch her breath, but she sees the hatchling staring into X'riel's eyes. With a sigh, she picks up her feet and hurries over. "Congratulations," she says. "And what did he say your name is?" she asks, already turning to lead the pair off the sands. "Food is this way."

Laisa smiles at Xirriel half-heartedly, saying a "Congratulations" looking at his dragon.

Niare strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
N'all strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Ariene manages to find Aleron somewhere amongst them. Smiling softly up at him, she shrugs, as does he. Chuckling together, they wait for the speeches that's sure to come.

X'riel pushes himself up from the embrace of the sands, scarcely able to pull his shimmering, green eyes away from his bond. As Niare approaches, however, he proudly exclaims, "Zuirinth. Zuirinth.. Come?" Fingers trail briefly along the bronze's neck, before he makes to follow Niare.

Dalin looks to Xirriel and nods. "Congradulations, Xirriel." he then turns, looking across the sands for a few brief moments. A look of nothingness crossing his face. He shrugs and grins lightly, mumbling a few words under his breath.

Zuirinth rises from the sand, grit crusting his round little belly, and follows his new lifemate with joy.

X'riel walks toward the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.
Zuirinth moves towards the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

Laisa turns to look over the sands, all she saw was the egg shells, and debris. Her face fell, and she sighed, lowering her head.

V'tali sighs softly, shuffling through shards, branches, socks, and other debris, to approach the remaining candidates. He blinks once, twice, at the white-robed figures, and exhales gustily. "Well, it was exciting at least. And as sorry as I am to be giving this little speech to you now, I'm glad it's you I'm giving it to, if that makes any sense. What I mean to say is, you're the best bunch of candidates we've had in a long time, and I'm happy that you've made Southern your home these past weeks."

Laisa nods softly, half-listening to V'tali.

V'tali pauses, lifts a hand to wipe sand and grit from his collar with a grimace, then smiles once more, gently, at the candidates. "I feel really fortunate to have come to know you, and for you to have come to know us. It disappoints me to say that your dragon was not in this clutch. But just because it did not hatch this day, don't feel that it never will. You were all Searched because the dragons saw something in you. And Southern sees something in you too."

Dalin turns to face V'tali, as soon as the man speaks. He looks to other candidate to see their faces and turns back, nodding just to go along... not even listening fully.

Ryann looks up at V'tali beneath strands of hair blown loose from her 'tail. She nods her head slowly and glances to where her friends had ended up - without her. Her face is more or less without expression and she doesn't appear to know exactly -how- she should feel.

V'tali continues, compassionately, "Some of you have ties outside of the Weyr, and will want to return to your homes. But I want to extend this invitation to each one of you - we'd be honored to have you stay on as a part of our home, part of Southern Weyr. There will always be a place for you here, and people who care about you. Thank you for giving us this time with you, and good luck in everything you do, whether it be away, or, as we hope, with us in the future." He smiles, a little regretfully, a little hopefully, then gives a one shouldered little shrug. "Feel free to talk to the Headwo- Headman, or myself, even, if you have any questions, or concerns. I expect you want to get cleaned up. I'm sorry to have kept you standing out here. There are refreshments in the Weyrhall. Thank you all."

Ariene chuckles again. 'Tali has her attention, and she smiles ironically. Then her expression blands and she glances towards the stands, looking for her father. Her mother is who she needed now. Her mother.

Telinda nods, "I totally agree with V'tali, you are a valued part of this weyr, and we'd love to have you to stay. This evening there is also a feast in the Weyrhall, as much in your honour, as in the Weyrlings themselves. And please, if you need to we're here to talk."

O'wyn glances back over the sands, and murmurs something quiet, before slipping out.

O'wyn strides over to the tunnel to the Weyrling Room.

V'tali nods emphatically to Telinda's comments as well.

Laisa nods, glancing up into the stands, looking for her sister, who was evidently not there. She frowned, her eyes reddening slightly, and she wipes them with a hand, controlling her emotions, head held low.

Dalin shrugs at most of what V'tali and Telinda speak. He was a resident here before --- so most of this is of no matter to him. He nods, also. He looks up in the stands -- looking from face to face... not finding any of intrest yet.

"I would suggest" Telinda starts looking at the sky, "You head off and get in shelter just in case it rains or the wind kicks up again. We'll be there in a few moments."

Ryann sighs absently, pulling the robe away from her skin again. A hand lifts long enough to brush back her loose strands and she moves off with another nod. "Thank you," is muttered, nearly mouthed, as she continues on.

Laisa sighs, looking around one last time.

Ariene tilts her head to the side. "Can I leave now? I want to see my mother." Her eyes wander to the stands again.

Telinda smiles, "There is always next time, I didn't impress first time either. Now" she waves her hands, "Go get a glass of wine, your former fellows won't be allowed that treat in some time!"

V'tali nods, "Yes, of course," he says quickly, apologetically. "Candidates, dismissed."

Ryann walks toward the tunnel to the cavern entrance.

Dalin smiles slightly to the other candidates---excandidates--- and the Weyrleaders. He nods and walks from the sands, bidding his fellows to come with him.

Ariene smiles sympathetically to 'Tali, not envying him the speech he had to make tonight. She nods her head softly, "Thanks." Glancing up at Aleron, she heads off.

Laisa strides over to the tunnel to the cavern entrance.
Dalin strides over to the tunnel to the cavern entrance.
Ariene strides over to the tunnel to the cavern entrance.

Telinda turns, heading towards the tunnel.

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