[Hatching] Happily Ever After

[S'yal]

Julian arched out an eyebrow as Ever talked, crossing over to her and not caring what any dragonet thought. They could maul him, he didn't care. "It'll be alright, Ever. Once you've got a dragon by your side, you'll get slathered with numb weed." He paused and looked down at the mutilated a hand, lips quirking. "And you'll have battlescars to scare future candidates with."

He nearly missed the Grey Impress, but it did. Obviously disappointment flooded through him as he saw his favorite color go off and choose Gwynell, but he squashed it the second he saw another Gray hatch. It's markings made him think of his orange kitten, and he felt a smile work it's way on his face. What was he thinking of, trying to Impress to one of these Grays? Lord would never forgive him.

[Lesa]

If for whatever reason Gwynell got the task of teaching Candidates, her first lesson to them would be: always pay attention to the dragonets, even if you're trying to help a fellow Candidate, saves you from heart attacks. As it was, the woman jumped a few inches off the sand at the first brush of a mind against hers. Who, what, where, when?! Of course she had noted the gray moving towards herself and the prisoner she was attempting to help, but assumed it was going for the prisoner, or another one of the prisoners around her. Why on Pern would it want her?

And what are you getting after looking after her, the voice that twined through her mind insisted, clearly stating for her that well, she had Impressed, instead of paying attention to your Willoth as he serenades you, GwynellMine? Come, let us sing together, and get something to eat. Now is not the time for work! She stared down at the hatchling - at Willoth in some dismay.
"Will," she said finally, "it's still the time for work, beautiful, cause I don't want anyone hurt. But I'll make sure you get food in a minute," with that she turned back to Ever, a wry look on her features, "I meant what I said about sitting down, Ever. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a walking stomach to tend to," Willoth blinked at her for the comment, rainbow-faceted eyes turning blue-yellow in happiness and hunger.

Food, glorious food! Willoth chirruped, pleased with himself and HisGwynell as the Harper guided her new lifebond towards the waiting L'vey. She was still reeling from the feeling of a mind in hers. She would never be alone now, an odd thought in a way, but a good one. It felt right, it felt good. It felt happy, to tell the truth. Willoth, her Will. Will and Gwyn, it had a nice ring to it.

[Velcro]

Romethia watched, entranced as the Weyrwoman strode across the sands, and picked up the little rainbow conglomeration of a dragon, carrying her too the candidates. She let out a loud shout of approval for her doing so, thinking that any dragon betweening would be a waste. She even cheered as the little lady - she assumed - impressed a man. Odd! But then again, this whole clutch was rather odd, or maybe she just didn't know what a hatching was like. It could be either way.

Next the last of the eggs she had touched was shaking, but then randomly, another egg split randomly! A strange gray dragonet hatched, making a sweet, adorable noise. It continued to trill, as Ro thought of it, as it walked along, nudging eggs and it even gave the egg she'd touched a good thump! What if that hurt the dragon inside? Ro thought with a frown. Hatchlings were fragile! She thought, again.

The blue who had tried to nudge the rainbow dragonet impressed sometime, Ro not really paying it much attention. The gray didn't waste much time to impress, either, after running around and examining the other eggs. It impressed a girl who was over talking to the newly fingerless Ever. Ro felt pouty, since there were at least two other fully trained healers, she was really no use in that aspect. Unless they needed her to go get something. Which she would probably do, if they asked.

Then, the last egg she had touched hatched, another gray! How curious, she thought once more. It should mean that the aberrations in color were not just a one time thing, like the first white dragon had been deemed to be. Romethia smiled. These little fellas would change the world, she thought with a smile.

[lithle]

Rushed by his sibling or no, the Marquis Hatchling didn't seem particularly perturbed about having hatched. He yawned, gave another little stretch and set off toward the candidates, all silent, velvet motion. He was not as playful as his recently impressed clutchmate, but there was a friendliness about him.

His churring croon was low and rumbled in his throat. He made a point of touching the candidates as he walked past, a nudge here, a gentle rub here. Those who retreated, he didn't pursue, but when they held their ground, he showed a casual undemanding affectionate.

He'd made it half way down the line when he spotted his sibling. The Marquis Hatchling stopped beside the Matchstick Hatchling and, crooning softly, rubbed his head against the blue. Again, the affection wasn't forceful, and when the Matchsitck Hatchling stepped away, the gray seemed prepared to move on.

He returned to the candidates and walked, unwavering, to one candidate in particular. His eyes swirled rainbow, and he rubbed against the man's legs in a particularly feline and endearing manner. Well, Tanyrion, I think they've seen enough to be interested. Fawning would only be distasteful. Oh, your Cabarath hated to make you wait, but now we can go eat.

Name:Cabarath

Fairytale:Puss in Boots

Color Code:555555

Desc:

With markings suggesting of a tabby, Cabarath is pure feline grace. He's of average size for his color, making him smaller than even a tiny green. But smallness suits Cabarath. Large things are lumbering and awkward, where Cabarath moves with practiced elegance of an expert dancer. He's perfectly proportioned, balancing speed and agility. Stamina, however, is not his strong suit. He's a sprinter.

Personality

Cabarath is grace given form, velvet given voice, charm made flesh and blood. To watch him move is to view what might as well be a dance, and to see him fly is to be left breathless. To the outsider, this all seems so automatic, so integral, as if the little gray is incapable of clumsiness. In truth, everything this dragon does is planned. Every tail twitch, ever slight inclination of the head is considered and used to maximum effect, not a sound is made without first being measured, not a thought mindspoken until the perfect words and cadence have been arranged.

Though he thinks about everything, Cabarath is not an intellectual. He has no interest in philosophy and he isn't the fastest learner among his clutchmates. But when it comes to people, Cabarath is a genius. He knows how to flatter, when to flirt, and, just as importantly, when not to flirt. He's an excellent judge of character (though he has no interest in making moral judgements) and knows just what to say to endear himself to others. Cabarath is like a prism, with a new face to show for every occasion, the whole of who he is too complex to be understood by any single viewer. Unsurprisingly, Cabarath will make lots of friends and, if he can help it, no enemies.

Yet, if many will call him friend, and if he will, of course, smile and call them friends in turn, Cabarath is not a dragon who has true friendships, not the sort to allow anyone below the charming surface. Rare will be the dragon who knows him as he is: a manipulator, a puppetmaster, a schemer. Cabarath has one goal, a goal he's not afraid to twist the world into knots for. That goal is the advancement of his rider. If this little gray has his way, his rider will find themselves in a position or respect and prestige.

This is not to say that Cabarath has any intention of changing his rider. Indeed, while he might arrange for them to stand in the right place or meet the right person, he likes his rider just as they are. His job is to move the pieces on the board, his rider just needs to be there when the right pieces align. Cabarath is always ready with an explanation anytime his rider's actions don't match up with the image he's painting for them.

Because he is so manipulative, so controlled, Cabarath is very dependent on his rider. After all, there's no one else on the planet who actual sees him as he is. And what Cabarath is, under all the layers and lies, is a relaxed, affectionate creature, whose sun rises and sets with his rider's smile. He's easily hurt, at least where his rider is concerned, the mildest disapproving comment sinking deep. His rider will need to be aware of this, as a hurt Cabarath is a Cabarath that stalks off on his own, and isn't easy to coax back.


Why Me?

Tanyrion is a leader who has yet to take the lead. He has the qualities of greatness, but Warden's has yet to recognize him for them. Well, worry not. Cabarath could make a leader out of a dead wherry, so imagine what he can do when he actually has the raw material to work with! Cabarath would never have chosen someone who'd fully fulfilled their potential, because that wouldn't give him a job to do. Tanyrion's quiet strength and strong mind suit Cabarath perfectly. There's something to guide there, to carefully steer to greatness.

[S'yal]

Julian did not hide his disappointment yet again. With only one Blue left on the Sands, with multiple unhatched eggs, his interest quickly began to die out. He stifled a yawn, standing with a hunched back and an incredibly bored look on his face. Not even that. He was too bored to have a bored expression.

He just wanted this show to be over with, so he could go feed Lord and then take a long nap.

[Velcro]

Romethia smiled as the second of the grays had impressed, without even so much as a look at anyone besides the man it chose. How... disappointing? Ro was confused why she felt that way, since the dragonet had safely impressed. It was also tinged with jealousy, just a bit. Ro squashed that feeling down harshly, telling herself that that particular emotion had no place here. she glanced over at Tiael, curious to see what her reaction was to the happenings. She couldn't gleam much from the other woman's face with just a glance, but that was all she would allow herself.

There was still a blue on the sands, she finally realized. She had missed it's hatching what with the unusual grays. He was still wandering, and Romethia decided to keep a close eye on him. Who said that she couldn't impress a blue? She'd never thought of it, but it wasn't really all that unusual for this day and age, or so she remembered from her harper lessons. Romethia smiled, glad her thoughts were brighter. She was truly glad that all of the little hatchlings had impressed so far. It was a very good sign, considering the parentage of this clutch. With that, and no more terrible distractions, Romethia devoted herself to watch the rest of the eggs hatch and the little blue out and about still.

[nozomi]

Matchstick Hatchling continued his trek through the Candidates, seemingly unaware of their suddenly quieted state. His brothers Impressed, went off with their own bondmates. And yet, Matchstick Hatchling could not find his. Where Willoth sang to greet His, a fine song of beauty, the young blue trilled a plaintive cry, a curious 'where are you?'

Where, indeed.

The blue pressed his small head against some of the Candidates, quickly gone as he had been at their sides. Eyes once green and blue began to tinge gray, the harsher color quickly overtaking the pleasant pastels. He cried out again, searching for his, and darted off towards the eggs then. The Matchstick Hatchling darted right past Tiael and Jareth, between the two of them with the slightest of 'oomph's.

He skittered to a stop between the Candidates and the actual clutch, eyes gray, skin awash with dread and fear. Matchstick Hatchling creeled to his mother and father before the small blue body finally shuddered. His head lifted and turned towards the prisoners and hopefully future Weyrlings, eyes coloring once more to green, to blue--

I have found Mine! cried the Hatchling with sparkling rainbow eyes.

Then he was gone, betweened.

From Mordanths side, T'di cried out. And of the other eggs? The Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum Egg started to rock again, harder, a rumble coming from its shell.

[shinska]

Nayzza was really late. The girl had been busy with a chore. When she got to the Sands she saw that a lot of eggs had already Hatched. The girl felt tears come to her eyes. Would she miss out on Impressing? Had her chore caused her to fail at Impressing. She was a rather good prisoner. Nayzza wanted everything in the world to be different and she didn't want to be a prisoner anymore, but it was the baby who chose not her.

The girl bit her lip as she waited for the remaining eggs to Hatch and if one of them was hers. Nayzza cursed herself for being so stupid with continuing to do her chores rather than be here would cause her to be a worse person than she had hoped to not be. Nayzza waited silently for the rest of the eggs. Leaving her prisoner life would be a good thing for Nayzza. She was willing to keep the other prisoners in line if it meant that her life became better than it had been when she was growing up.

[Velcro]

Th'or walked into the hatching grounds, using the stands entrance. Of course, none of these hatchlings could even compare to his Mlorth, even the day he had hatched. Said blue had already been on the ledges of the hatching grounds for some time, watching the on goings. He had informed Th'or when the little strange dragons had hatched. It was what made the cocky blue rider think it was worth coming to see what came out of the remaining eggs. Th'or sat down not far from the Warden, only a couple rows up. He really didn't care if he was pushing others out of their spots, this was where he wanted to be. And Th'or usually always got his way.

Mlorth crooned his welcome to the little blue, until it randomly went between. Well, shards. Mlorth keened for him instead, wondering what was wrong that his fellow blue had to go away. Silly little probably just got himself upset. Mlorth was glad he was much steadier than that. Not to mention his awesome muscles. Why didn't the ladies drool over him and Th'or again? Oh yeah. Th'or was unbearable to spend too much time with.

[Mikki]

After the incident with the Opal, one lass seemed to have just gotten a tad too overwhelmed. She was torn between three different priorities. There was Ever, the mauled Weyrwoman, and the eggs. What was she to do? Ever seemed to be the closest and most important. The woman looked like she was going to fall over on her face. But oh, the Weyrwoman! Still, the older female looked as if her cuts were less superficial. Just a few shallow ones right? Her blond companion though...she looked as if she was going to fall over.

Milune was so preoccupied by her own thoughts that she didn't even see what hatched or impressed to who. Instead she was busy manuvering herself close to Ever, a long slender arm reaching out to wrap around the other girls waist. "Here, lean on me. I don't mind the weight." Trying to be gentle, the brunette angled her shoulder beneath the prisoners arm. She then pulled her close to her side, attempting to sway her into pressing her weight against her.

Briefly, she flashed a smile at Gwyn for her assistance. But there was a hungry hatchling to be fed. Her new life mate was more important. Besides, she got this. "Just let me know if I'm holding on too tight okay? Feel free to put as much weight against me as you want." Purposefully, the healer braced her legs hard against the sand in preparation for the added weight of the other. Now that that issue was taken care of...her gaze shifted over to the eggs again, trying to assess the current situation. Shells, so much had happened!

[Zen]

Because Tanyrion had much less happening to him than did Ever, Zen will start with her male character first, yes?

Tanyrion was suddenly aware that the girl who’d been hurt was getting a lot more attention than she had previously. She also looked a lot more pale than she had previously. If she were in her right mind, she probably should have sat down and stayed sat down. But the girl didn’t, even when another Healer girl went over to tell her to. It was as if she was stubbornly proving a point—and the point she was proving was unfortunately taxing her. She didn’t listen to the blond Healer-girl for she remained standing even after the newly-Impressed Healer-girl had led her gray away.

Yes, that’s right, a gray dragon. It was a small little thing, smaller than even she smallest green so far, and, to Tany, it looked cute. He wished the girl luck for that, and quickly looked back to the hatching. The blue was still out there, wandering around. There was, however, another gray on the sands. This one moved with a feline, feline grace that Tany couldn’t have copied for the world, and the man’s sky blue eyes watched the hatchling as if it were a lifeline. He hadn’t seen what egg it had hatched out of. He frankly didn’t really care what egg it hatched out of. In fact, it would probably pass right over him like the others had.

Oh, wait, never mind. It wouldn’t even reach him. Halfway to him, the gray stopped probing the candidates and walked to his blue brother, crooning to him softly and rubbing him… which seemed faintly like the way felines rubbed against the people they were owned by and (seemingly) loved. Then, almost suddenly, he turned and walked straight toward him. Tanyrion felt the punch of Impression as if it were a football player tackling him in the stomach. But it was a good feeling, as if, suddenly, he needed to share his mind with this small gray creature.

Well, Tanyrion, I think they’ve seen enough to be interested. Fawning would only be distasteful. Oh, your Cabarath hated to make you wait, but now we can go eat. Cabarath said into his mind, his voice velvety in Tany’s mind. The man blinked and then slowly smiled. “Of course, Cabarath,” Tany declared, “You had to let them see you, you had to let them want you.”

It was strange, it was so strange how Tanyrion knew exactly what Cabarath had done. He had subtly elevated himself and Tanyrion—now T’ron, Tany supposed—to a position of near mystery even so soon from hatching from his egg. He had to give the little gray dragon props; he never thought a dragon would elevate him to prestige quite like a bronze, but perhaps Cab would. Perhaps Cab would even get him in the Warden’s good graces… if T’ron let him.

“Food, yes. Let’s go get you food.” He said, and Cabarath started forward before stopping suddenly, his head twisting to one side. You look wonderful, Semith, with everything draped on you. Mine did not say it when he should have, so I did. He spoke directly to his mother’s mind, his mind-voice velvety soft and totally honest. Turning back to T’ron, he said, Let us go. I really am hungry.

Together, the two headed toward the meat L’vey offered.

---

Ever hadn’t wanted to whine, per say. She also hadn’t wanted the tears that threatened to spill over onto her face to actually start their cascade down the now dirty flesh. They nevertheless fell, unhindered except from the small ridges of blood caked on the right side of her face, with gravity dragging them downward. With a shudder, Ever had no idea what was wrong with her. She was strong! And yet, and yet she knew exactly what was wrong with her—she was losing blood and was slowly dying. Without proper Healer care, she would faint from blood loss. But she wasn’t dead yet (“I’m not dead yet!” said a smaller part of her brain), and she furrowed her brows while wiping her eyes with her right sleeve. It was, after all, the lesser of the blood-ridden sleeves… not to mention the sleeve that was not attached to her injured hand.

Gwynell’s well intentions did not reach through Ever’s seemingly thick brain and she continued to stand. Her standing was not stoic. Not in the least. Even the most blind person could tell that she had grown paler than a ghost only within the last few minutes (or had it been a candlemark?), and anyone older than a Turn could tell that she was swaying while she stood. Nevertheless, she smiled at Julian, “Some battle wounds. Didn’t even have to fight for them,” she said, though her voice was lower now. It wasn’t quite a whisper, more like her normal tone with extra sadness injected into it. Her voice, combined with her perpetually sad-looking face and the lack of blood, actually sounded quite in place right about now.

Gwynell walked away with her gray and, frankly, Ever didn’t envy her. If Ever Impressed—big if—then she’d want to escape these Sands, too. And for just a moment, Ever remembered that she was a prisoner who’d been allowed to step onto the Sands and perhaps Impress. For just a moment, Ever had realized that she’d signed herself over to Faranth’s great (times perhaps one million) grandchildren’s wills. Even if that meant dying because two fingers had been sawn off by hatchling’s teeth. That and the fact that she had to show her absent father that she was better than he had ever intended her to be, that’s why she was still standing when she should have fallen. Perhaps it was will alone that was keeping her upright, swaying, not on the ground, fainted.

Besides, like Gwynell said, a dragon didn’t Impress to a candidate who’d fainted.

Then, magically and wonderfully, Milune was beside her. Ever didn’t have any ill will toward the woman any longer, and it wasn’t just because she’d helped patch her up. It was because she’d seen what had become of that hatchling inside the egg and she’d felt sorry that neither woman had gotten it. The man who’d Impressed had Impressed well, but there was something different about… everything at this hatching. Milune threw Ever into the strongest embrace she’d felt, and Ever felt her body give up. The embrace was one-sided, with Milune holding onto her left side with her arm while trying not to touch Ever’s injured arm, and Ever leaned into the girl gratefully. Her mind swirled with the sudden movement, but when it cleared, she didn’t hurt so much.

Ever coughed, “No, no, you’re fine. Thanks,” she said, the sadness in her voice from before still there, but her voice itself seemed more monotone now, “I didn’t want to sit.”

Sitting, sitting like before where she rocked back and forth to rid herself of the pain, that burned itself into Ever’s mind as defeat. Sure, Ever could have been defeated, but Ever got back up. And despite even the Healer’s orders, Ever would rather be standing when she Impressed. If she Impressed. Knowing this hatching, Ever might not Impress at all, and her ‘happily ever after’ would become something more of an ‘unhappily Ever after.’ Note the differences between the ‘ever’s. She was a softy when it came to needing help, though; even if she were the most obedient woman in the world, doing things just to keep herself from going on the ‘naughty’ list, Ever readily accepted help if it meant she didn’t have to give up what she believed in.

So she accepted Milune’s help. She could feel her left arm go numb even as she held her hand above her heart so the blood flow would diminish from it. The robe pieces that Milune had tied onto her hand were now thoroughly soaked with blood and she could swear that blood was slowly trickling down her arm despite the lack of blood flow to the injury. She worried because of the loss of blood, but didn’t let it on. Already, though, she felt better just because she wasn’t fully supporting herself. “Really, though, thanks.” She said, as if the first thanks wasn’t good enough.

[nozomi]

The huge Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum Egg continued to rock on the sands, unconcerned with it's fathers distress or the fact that a clutch-sib just betweened in front of it. Back and forth it went, blue and bluer, until the egg literally jerked free of it's hold in the sand and rolled onto the side. For a long moment, the egg simply lie there, unmoving, that rumbling noise gone from the shell.

Fortunately, the silence lasted only briefly. With one last resounding shove, the Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum Egg cracked into several large pieces and fell apart. In the center of that enormous blue shell sat a mound of egg goop and a near impossibly small dragon, smaller than the previous grays, perhaps even the side of the legendary Ruth.

The hatchling spat goo out of its mouth with distaste and shook off what it could. With the remnants of it's prison mostly gone, the dragon was revealed to be a gray, darker swirls of grayish and maybe browns twisting over his eyes, his sides, along his limbs as if some form of henna. It stared out at the Candidates with a heated glare, twisting red and orange eyes, daring a single one of them to make a comment on its stature.

He gave one last shake, a few bits of shell flying. And with that, the small Beanstalk Hatchling slunk towards the Candidates, eyes ever searching. The dragon was watching you, Candidates.

All of you.

[Wren]

Sheraz was slowly getting used to the concept that he would be allowed to keep Iiateth. He didn’t care about the odd looks everyone was giving her, the way they stared and pointed at her as though she was some freak. He shielded her from them with his body, keeping her out of sight, tucked against his torso as he carried her off. He eventually reached the place where the hatchlings were fed, and he was rather glad to put her down for, although she was yet bare minutes old, she was rather heavy. There was meat about already, of course, and Sheraz pulled a bowl of it over. He took a piece of it in his bare hand and offered it to her, and she snapped it up.

No, no, chew! Sheraz told her, seeing her trying to swallow something about half the size of her head whole. The dragon jumped in fright and peered at him through yellowing eyes.

I'm sorry, rider-mine, I didn't mean not to, I will chew, I promise. And she did chew, with great enthusiasm.

It took Sheraz a moment to figure out that she felt she’d been scolded, but as soon as he did, he petted her reassuringly. It’s alright, Sweetheart, I just want to make sure that you’re alright, that’s all. The little dragon looked at him and blinked, and then, having swallowed, she rubbed her head against his arm affectionately. Next thing she was looking at the meat again, as if hoping for another piece but a little shy to ask. Sheraz offered her one, and again she started to chew.

While waiting for Iiateth to swallow, Sheraz looked around him. He could see the bright coloured green, and the darker one that had mauled her. He made a mental note to keep his Iiateth away from that one, even if it did look smaller than the opal; he wasn’t taking any chances. He gave the green’s new rider a fierce look, as if the message would some how be understood, and then went back to checking his surroundings. After a short while they were joined by the striped blue hatchling that had been present when Iiateth had hatched, and after that, two strange greys, one after the other.

These last caught Sheraz’s attention; grey was not an ordinary colour was it? These things were new, like Iiateth. Sheraz did not like them much. They were not as bright nor as beautiful as his Iiateth, and yet they insisted on taking some of the limelight for themselves. He wanted his dragonet to be extra-special, and yet here she was just special. Still, he couldn’t begrudge them for existing; it was hardly their fault that they’d come out like that, and when Iiateth nudged his hand for more food, Sheraz stopped worrying about the greys and complied.

[Velcro]

Romethia watched as one of the bigger eggs hatched, dramatically. This one, too, was a gray. It was smaller than the others, but out of a bigger egg. The new grays all seemed to be on the small side, and with one impressing girl, and the ssecond impressing a boy... This one could go either way. The eggs were slimming down, only a few left now. Still, only one had gone between, which was wonderful. The new gray seemed to be stalking the candidates, and it seemed rather menacing in it's actions. Ro didn't sink back or away. None of the dragons had so much as looked at her yet, so what did she have to fear from this one? She was forced to admit to herself at this point that her chances of impressing were getting pretty slim. Ro wouldn't let herself not be realistic.

---------

Th'or leaned forward in interest, watching the new hatchling with intensity. How interesting. Mlorth, if those were your offspring, I wouldn't be surprised since you're a little gray yourself. But T'di blue? He was a lucky dragon to catch a gold in any sort of a flight.

Mlorth watched, wondering if this little one would impress like the others. I agree. If we had chased, I would have easily won. Although, she did run. I am not a good runner.[/color] The blue was not one to be arrogant, at least not as much as his rider. You could have caught her, you don't have to run, even if she is. Th'or thought back, delusions of grandeur forming in his mind that Mlorth would want to catch a gold. Mine, don't get started. Semith's rider would kick you but rather than put up with you.[/color] Mlorth knew that was true. Th'or was unbearable.

[Spiffy]

Jarethir kept his eyes o both the hatchlings currently walking the sands, the blue and the oddly coloured grey thing. Though he had to admit, it was quite attractive, despite its oddness, prettier than the other grey, but not beautiful like the not-queen, who had skulked off to find her rider. Sheraz, he remembered seeing him about the barracks and on chores. He seemed a good guy, if a prisoner could ever be described as good, certainly likeable.

He looked back at the grey. Another graceful one, it seemed. He soon marched past Jareth, giving hem a light nudge on his leg on the way past. He tenses, ready to leap out of the way should the hatchling go the way of the green, but this one didn't seem so malevolent, and hadn't had a go at any of the half a dozen other candidates he'd nudged. A brief greeting to the blue, who was still slinking around, an odd tinge to his eyes, and then headed straight to one of the candidates. A non prisoner, like the other grey. Hmm, maybe a trend here?

The blue, however, was having no such luck. It was plain to see, pushing his way through the candidates, searching, searching, all the way up and down the small gathering until he creeled and turned, dashing between him and Tiael. Jareth nipped to the side, the blue bumping his leg on the way past, as it ran for the space between the candidates and the egg and, with a shivering look to his parents, he was gone. Just... gone. UnImpressed, alone.

Then the dragons keened.

Jareth gasped as pain suddenly lanced through his head, instinctively reaching up and clamping his hands over both ears, even thought it was only the left that was causing the problem, pressing them hard into the sides of his head. It didn't help much, but the keening soon stopped and he was left with a dull throbbing. Gingerly he removed his hands, realised that he was half crouched, tensed up. He stood carefully, swayed slightly as he moved his feet to make himself more stable, glaring at anyone who gave him a funny look.

He silently cursed the existence of high pitched noises and the Threaded creatures that made them, then stopped himself, remembering that it was the dragons that keened and he was currently hoping to Impress one. He settled for grinding his heel into the wet sand. Scanning the sands, trying not to move his eyes too quickly for fear of antagonising his headache, he was just in time to se the Fee-fi-fo-fum egg, the one he'd placed his hopes on, shudder and crack.

His first thought on the dragonet it revealed was disappointment. It was, well... tiny. And grey. So far neither of the grey dragonets had Impressed to prisoners. But he was pleased to see the look the dragonet was giving the candidates, eyeing each and every one of them with a look that screamed 'you you dare....' He grinned, which quickly turned back to a grimace. That's my boy, he thought half-heartedly.