[Hatching] Wounds Healing

[puppetmaster]

It came as no surprise to Leshta when, shortly after breakfast, the eggs began to rock. Mostly because, shortly before breakfast, she and Semith and Kith had met Passith. Unlikely as it all seemed, at least one of the stolen clutch had survived.

And that was terrible in that it meant more might be alive, now being reared by mad-men in the jungle.

And it was wonderful, because it meant maybe not all of Semith and Iiateth's stolen babies were dead.

Semith, at least, seemed pleased for the first time since the eggs had been stolen. She'd actually spoken to the little gray, had spoken more than a few words to Leshta! Even now, the goldrider could feel Semith's renewed optimism broadcasting through their bond. So, while Leshta was a little terrified of what might be happening in the jungle, she was smiling.

And then as the first egg shook, Semith began to hum, a call echoed by both the clutchfather's on the sands and the dragons throughout the Weyr. It was such a joyful sound, so unlike much of what had recently happened.

The babies! My babies are hatching. Semith's voice, not so bright as before, but not dark with hurt either, played across all minds in the Weyr. She nuzzled Kith, eyes blue with affection.

Almost immediately, Faeth's mindvoice was reaching out to the candidates.

Candidates! To the sands. Guards will be along to collect those who require it. Robe quickly and come. Do not forget your manners.

At the hatching sands, L'vey waited for the candidates, directing them to the sands once they'd arrived. They were not required to stand in gendered groups, simply told to bow and find a place along the sand's edge.

OOC

[/u]

1. Please no more then two posts per character per Admin post. We will be posting under 'Puppetmaster'.

2. As ever, IC actions will lead to IC consequences. If your character is particularly stupid, they may be mauled.

3. Prisoner candidates wear white robes with red trim, regular candidates wear pure white. EVERYONE is searched before being permitted to enter the sands. Also, everyone had a full meeting with L'vey and touched the eggs, regardless of whether any of it was RPed. And no one knows about Passith outside of the clutchparents, their riders, and M'onk.

4. We tend to make a few posts per baby, so please be patient and just have some fun with it all.

5. Do to other obligations, understand that this hatching will be moving much slower than the last. Both Noz and I work.

6. Any questions? Ask. We love you.[/center]

Images by Firelight Egg - Primitive Gray - Prehistoric Cave Art - Habilith to Lostris
Masked Menace Egg - Wounded Guardian Yellow - African Tribal Mask - Greboth to Serdek
Misty Garden Egg - Impressionism - Dud
Nightmare Images Egg - Stuff and Nonsense Green - Expressionist/Surrealist - Bakuth to Amisi
Pernese Totem Egg - Northwestern Tribal Art - Gyaath to Fekartn
Crashing Waves Egg - Silent Philosopher Blue - Ukiyo-e - Uyoth to NPC
Shape and Shadow Egg - Dark's Fall Blue - Mobile - Gravitath to Tekaine
Heartstrings Egg - Uncle Sam Brown - Propaganda - Obeth to Senar
Dizzying Patterns Egg - Lost Paradise Pink - Ottoman Mosaic - Empirith to Kaydian
Elegant Lattice Egg - Postergirl Yellow - Art Nouveau - Chereth to Corvis
Water Vessel Egg - Dew Drops Purple - Hydrangea - Gaeth to Ever
Violet Brush Egg - Wildflower Hatchling - Purple Violeth - NPC
Tribal Beauty Egg - Love Flower Silver - African Lily - Afilith to Orren
Taste of Fire Egg - Dragon's Breath Pink -
Howling Moon Egg - Wolf's Head White - Wolfsbane - Dexeth to Ralvyn

[firebird]

Senar had been in the barracks, steadfastly avoiding the slowly rising sun. Today seemed to be a bad day for his eyes, unfortunately. Well, at least it hadn't happened during the summer, or he would have really been in a bad spot. For now, he was just going to lie on his bunk with a pillow over his eyes and not go outside for any reason. No, not even to eat!

Unfortunately, his plans were horribly derailed when a pair of guards came in and rounded him up along with a couple of other prisoners. He was understandably startled, and even after one of them shoved the red-trimmed robe into his hands it took him a while to reason out what was going on. Augh, why were they hatching today? Senar would have greatly preferred it happen on a day when he could actually see what was going on. His first hatching and he wouldn't even be able to see it happen.

It took a couple of moments for him to put on the robe by touch alone, by which point he was being rushed out of the barracks and into the morning sun. Ack argh AUGH. PAIN! Horrible blinding pain! Senar walked the entire way to the hatching sands with one arm held over his face and the other clinging to one of the guards. When he got there, it was almost a relief to be patted down before being allowed onto the sands.

Senar pried open his eyes just long enough to find the clutch, but mostly Semith (the big gold blur) so he could bow to her. It was always good to bow to a clutching queen. After that he was going to keep his eyes tightly shut until he heard eggs start hatching.

[giftwrapped]

Ugh, what time was it?

...Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeggs, y u hatch so early?

The first stirrings of the shells sent a flurry of motion through the entire Weyr, and Kas was roused from what he had hoped would be a good, solid, till-lunch-hours sleep by a fellow guard, who jabbed him hard in the ribs and snapped that anyone not escorting a Candidate or Standing themselves was needed to keep an eye on things. Why, he wasn't sure. If the Outlaws were people stupid enough to try and steal weyrlings, then they'd have caught them long before this. Besides, they couldn't know it was hatchday here. But he wasn't about to try and explain his absence to the Guardmaster. That was like telling a gold wher she had lovely eyes.

His head was pounding - Faranth, what had he drunk last night?

...A brief catalogue resulted in an answer that he summed up as "everything," and he groaned and reached for his waterskin as he rolled out of bed. For a moment, the room around him spun, but eventually he managed to orient enough to get a splash of water into his mouth and the rest of the skin over his head. All hands on deck or something like that. Kas didn't know. All he knew was that if he didn't get to a basin - and soon - he was going to ruin his day even further.

Eventually, something resembling a functional human being in a guard's uniform stumbled his sorry ass out onto the Hatching Sands - or rather, to the fringes of it. Kas bowed to the clutchparents, certainly, but he wasn't a Candidate, and though he presented himself (rather hopefully) to one of the female guards doing the frisking, he only got a cuff across the ear and a boot to the small of the back for his troubles. Freshly-filled waterskin dangling from one hand, Kas looked furtively around, and then milled about like his life depended on it.

Nothing to see here, folks. Just a prime example of poor life decisions.

[Zen]

Ever knew it would happen soon. It wasn't a feeling she had, it wasn't an instinct, shards, it wasn't even practical knowledge. It was just there, something she knew. She'd been there at her touching. She could feel their hard shells. She knew it was almost time for them to hatch. She'd been counting the days on her fingers, on the ground, in the stars of the sky. But she hadn't known it would happen now.

Breakfast was just a pleasant memory. She'd eaten in the mess hall with the other prisoners deemed good enough to dine out of their cells. The food was okay, at the least lousy and at the best not even as good as the meals she'd eaten when she was a Lord's daughter. But she'd grown used to the food and even the breakfast tasted okay. If it hadn't, she probably would have suspected poisoning or something. But she ate it mechanically like she did every other day. It tasted like the same breakfast she ate yesterday and the day before. Maybe it'd taste the same tomorrow, as well.

But then everything changed. It was Faeth who spoke into her mind, Faeth who told her that today would be something different, not the same. But it was the guard who gently nudged her to her feet. A slow smile spread across her face as she accepted the guard's help. She pushed her blond hair behind her ears as the guard whispered into her ear, "Come on; we're going to get you into your robes."

It was only then that she noticed the guard who was helping her. It was T'ron, the grayrider. His blue eyes twinkled kindly at her. "Remember how you felt last time?"

Ever blinked up at him as he guided her gently to her cell where a white candidate's robe had been laid. She automatically slipped the robe on, not even noticing the red lining on it marking her as a prisoner. She'd noticed it last time, but this time she was used to it. Then she turned to look at T'ron, her green eyes sparkling. "It's really today, isn't it?"

T'ron nodded and held his hand out to her. She gave him her injured (but healed) hand to take, and he didn't even flinch at the obvious lack of fingers. He smiled, and that smile willed her forward. The guard then took her to the Sands. She didn't even need to tell that Cabarath, T'ron's gray, was already there. Cabarath looked at her coolly, his swirling eyes blue and green while a hum rose in his throat. T'ron laughed as he led her farther into the Sands. "He says good luck," T'ron whispered, "I don't think he remembers you, but he remembers my memories of you."

"Thank you, T'ron. Tell him thank you, too." Ever said, mystified by T'ron's niceties. He pushed her forward with a whisper, "Good luck."

Ever strode forward, her memories suddenly thrusting her back to that day not so long ago when she'd first stood. When she'd had her hand. And she bowed to Semith before standing with the others. Today might be the beginning of the rest of her life.

[Inkwell]

Just as he had been when Faeth had called him to his meeting with L'vey, Orren was in the middle of doing the dishes from breakfast when her mindvoice came to him. This time, however, he had no problems leaving them half-finished. This would be the first hatching he'd actually attended and not actually merely heard about afterward, and not only that, but it was going to be the first (and hopefully only) hatching in which he would stand as candidate. That was, to him, quite a bit more important than dishes.

The only thing he paused to do before going to retrieve his robes and head down to the sands was check on Honey. She was still on the low shelf next to the oven that he and F'ox had placed her on, curled protectively around her eggs and half-dozing. For the hundredth time, he wished he didn't have a broody queen to worry about on top the anxiety he was already very carefully pretending he didn't have about this hatching... but she seemed like she'd be fine, hopefully at least for however long the hatching lasted.

Anxiety? Oh yes, anxiety, which took the form of some truly baffling dreams he'd had in the nights prior. In one dream, all the dragons were golds and he was laughed off the sands for trying to Impress one. In another dream, every single egg was a dud. In a third, they all hatched angry whers. It was something he laughed about the day after with his fellow kitchen staff, but just after waking up, with the scenes still fresh in his mind? It was worrying.

But F'ox had done it, and F'ox had said he had a shot. He trusted the younger greenrider's word. And so it was that he showed up at the sands not too long after leaving the kitchens, feeling a bit silly in his white robes and yet also very, very excited. Anxiety dreams or no, now that he was actually on the sands (after a pat-down, of course), he felt confident. Surely there had to be a dragon in one of those eggs that would want him. He was a nice guy. People liked him, at least, he thought so. So it stood to reason that dragons would too!

He bowed to Semith as instructed, and then Kith. He felt as though he should say something, but what would one say in that situation? 'I know you lost half of your eggs and I'm very sorry, I know that must hurt, but thank you for letting me stand for the rest of them and I'm sure the babies you didn't lose will be beautiful'? No. Better to just bow and then get in line with the others. He was sure Semith understood.

[giftwrapped]

Hatchings were supposed to be happy occasions. Which didn't quite explain why Serdek stumbled onto the Sands wearing an expression of horror, tugging at sleeves that were not quite long enough for her liking and glaring suspiciously over her shoulder at the guard who had just searched her. That in and of itself had almost been enough to ruin her day, and the woman fussed with the hem of her robe as she tried to force herself back into a state of calmness, or at least anxiety that wasn't a hundredfold like it was right now.

The guard had touched her without her consent. And yes, she had been female, but she had touched her. And there had been the male guard nearby, and the guard who had escorted her had not been her usual guard, he had been male and today was not starting out well. Also her robe was too short and it made her uncomfortable.

But for now, Serdek said nothing. She bowed, searched the stands for Faeth and L'vey and then realized that he would probably be over waiting to receive new Weyrlings when it happened, and sighed quietly. Just...calm. she reminded herself, mouthing the words but not quite speaking them aloud. Calmness, deep breaths, quiet. Nothing was going to hurt her, and going onto the Sands with a head full of fear was a terrible way to start a Hatching. She would upset the dragonets, she'd been told. So for once, it wasn't about Serdek. It was about the eggs.

Her attention turned briefly back to the filling stands. She wondered if Siata would come to watch, or if the smith-turned-handler would sleep through it. She hoped Siata wouldn't do that, if nothing else, then for the sake of reassurance, a familiar face in a group of people she didn't particularly like. Turning back to the Sands, she realized idly that she was standing near another prisoner, and she glanced over and gave Ever a brief, polite nod. Were you supposed to wish other people luck on the Sands? Was that taboo, or strange? She wasn't sure.

And so instead, she said nothing.

[nozomi]

She'd almost turned up naked for the Hatching.

Almost.

Luckily for those that didn't appreciate tall women with large muscles and no eyebrows, Siatask convinced her handler to put on proper clothing before leaving the Wher complex. Siatask's manner of 'convincing' leaned more towards 'standing on top of and shoving wher-smelling tunics at a person', but it worked, didn't it? Of course it did. And, according to Siatask, eggs were hatching and 'Ax-Woman Stand. Red Woman stand. Stupid big uglies.', which, as anyone could tell, meant that Lostris and Serdek were standing, eggs were hatching, and she should get her ass out there - with clothing on.

Serdek'd probably just leave the sharding Sands if she showed up in the buff, and Lostris would shun her...

And with that in mind, Siata showed up in a dark green tunic and lace-up sandals, a wide brimmed hat on to guard her face from a semi-familiar sunglare. Working with a certain prisoner outside too much meant she didn't baw like some of the wher handlers when it came to daylight hours, but she hadn't become accustomed to it again after a Turn of night shifts.

Siatask's say words.

Baby girl, go to sleep. They'll kill me if I yell.

Siatask muttered something obscene in the back of her mind before she fell asleep on Siata's bed back in the barracks. Ungrateful monster. Siata, however, simply elbowed the person next to her and pointed. "Ha! Eggs! And I know that one!"

----

T'di stood in the Stands like any bluerider. He was, however, ready to go and shank some people if they dared try to hurt any of the babies on the sand. For the most part, T'di is pretty boring unless he's talking at someone. Sad.

[Cansi]

Yesterday had been horrible. Nausea, vertigo, shakes. Almost as though he was having a relapse, but that was impossible. More than likely he'd just worked himself a little too hard with the labor crew the day before that. 'Clear the forest' sounded simple enough, but simple rarely could be equated with easy. He'd made a rule for himself not to skimp on rebuilding his muscles, though he had been given permission to work as a healer as well, and had felt good enough to give extra effort. And had been paying for it ever since. The nausea lingered today, and he had decided rather queasily to forgo breakfast in order to spend a precious few more minutes laying in his bed. And then the candidates were summoned.

Tekaine knew he would not Impress. Knew it with the solid, unquestioning acceptance that a man came to grasp that one day his time would end, and death would come a-calling. Knew it so firmly that the only thing that moved him to put on the red-trimmed white robes was his discussion with L'vey. Mercy on any creature desperate enough to choose such a wreck of a human as he was, but he would not deny them the choice. Better that he should bear up under his detachment and fake some semblance of normalcy. As long as no one looked closely (and they wouldn't; it was hatching day, for Faranth's sake) he thought he could pull it off. Not that anyone would particularly care if they did notice.

His excuse was already prepared, and it was an honest one, at that. Last night's dreams had been haunted by phantom firelizards and the wrinkled but lovely face of his former craft supervisor, Wenthil, the pleasant mask repeatedly removed to reveal a twisted caricature of hatred and disgust. His pleas that he hadn't meant to had gone unheard, in the nature of nightmares, while the wispy figure he imagined himself to be hovered greedily over the purloined egg in spite of the words he screamed into the blankness fuzzing the edges of the scene.

Three times he had woken up sweating and shivering at the same time. The fourth, he was also sobbing breathlessly into a fist. He had been wracked by guilt as strongly as the first day he had arrived here, no, more so. He would have to live with it; there was no way to apologize to Wenthil, not from here.

Maybe not ever.

Tekaine still felt as though he were half asleep, moving through thickness in the air that slowed his pace and gestures to something laughable to look at. He joined the line of candidates waiting to be searched. Edged up until it was his turn. Stood silently, a little disoriented, a frown pulling his eyebrows together on his forehead to make a disjointed but straight line. It would be over soon enough, and he could go back to wallowing in the bitter tang of unhappiness, and the sickly sweetness of abrupt depression.

His bows to each of the clutch parents were not as smooth as they once would have been. Still, considering the mental murk he carried today, they were at least serviceable. I'm sorry, Tekaine thought aimlessly, deep in his overflow of childish angst. But he said not a word aloud.

There was no point.

He didn't make an effort to select his location, simply moved into place and flopped onto his butt- ignoring discomfort. It wasn't a gesture of disrespect, it was worry that he might fall if he didn't sit. Well. After his vertigo passed, he'd get back up and at least watch. This was an honor, after all. One he didn't deserve. One he was not prepared for in spite of being briefed. One that he'd never forget, however it played out. One almost enough to drag him out of the doldrums.

[Spiffy]

Shea will talk to T'di when I've gpt a chance and make him not-boring xD

[Evadne]

See, Kaskirk, the trick to getting to play your role when deemed unfit for duty was to avoid those who could provide the boots to the ass. Lostris knew this. She hadn't yet been cleared by the healers; they would, in fact, probably gnash their teeth and pull their hair if they knew what the stubborn woman intended. But when the call went out that eggs were rocking, Lostris had armed herself with her trusty canes and begun limping towards the glass-covered sands as fast as her gimpy ankle would allow.

She did not present herself to the woman doing the friskings. But she did sidle as casually as she could towards the line of guards that were beginning to form around the perimeter of the hatching area.

Sure it was unlikely the outlaws would strike again but did anyone really want to take that chance?

Lostris sure didn't. Her breath was a little short before she found a place far enough away from the Powers That Be that she wasn't likely to be yanked from the line. Near enough though that she could keep an eye both on the space between sands and treeline, while also glancing back towards the rocking eggs and the observers beginning to assemble around them. Her breath was a little short, she could feel sweat trickling down her spine, and between her breasts, but she was here, by golly.

Here also happened to be near Kaskirk.

"You look like shit," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth. That there was a prime example of the wher calling the wherry ugly. She did him the courtesy of keeping her eyes moving though, scanning the jungle before letting a glance swing towards the makeshift stands. A flash of green and a floppy hat caught her attention and earned a faint smile. She'd wave to Siata but with that large brim she wasn't certain the woman would catch the gesture...and she didn't want the higher ranked guards to catch it earlier, and unceremoniously boot her back to the infirmary.

[giftwrapped]

Why was someone talking to him?

...Oh it was Lostris.

It was easy enough to gauge the degree of hungover that Kas had achieved by observing his interaction with women. No matter how much he had drunk the night before, Kas could almost always turn up the charm - or at least the smarm - in the face of a pretty girl. But shards, usually he had time to sip a cup of hot klah and stare darkly over the dining hall until he felt human again. Today, he hadn't even had that. And he was being talked at. Time to man up and face the world with your chin up, Kaskirk.

Blearily, Kas glanced over at his fellow guard and offered a smile that, for all its weakness, still shone with all its usual overdone charm. "Hi, Pot, I'm Kettle. Nice to meet you. Have you seen the eggs? I hear they're lovely this time of year."

[tuathade]

His robe didn’t fit. Ralvyn was not the most impressive of physical specimens, even on the best of days – he was kind of small and gawky and all his limbs looked like they belonged to a teenager going through a growth spurt instead of an eighteen-Turn-old – but most of the time, he at least managed to look more-or-less presentable. He tried, and that was the important thing. But now he was stuck in a white robe that fit him less like clothing and more like a sack with sleeves. This only served to exacerbate the problem.

On top of that, a guard had frisked him on the way in. It had been awkward for everyone involved. But… he was here now, on the Sands. Living the dream, right? His hands were shaking – in nervousness or anticipation, he wasn’t sure. Given their track record, there was every possibility that the Outlaws would try again; once they realized that their stolen eggs weren’t going to hatch, would they be so daring as to attempt to kidnap hatchlings or weyrlings? He shuddered at the thought.

Still, Semith and Kith were there. And the grey – Willoth, Ralvyn thought? He didn’t know the grey clutchfather, but Kith’s presence was a reassurance. That meant Lanakirene was close by. He knew and trusted the blue, knew his children would be wonderful. That was what mattered now. He bowed deeply to the parents on the sands, composure returning. He would make his mentor proud. Even if he didn’t Impress, he’d still be here, just in case.

There was – hmm. There was a man… sitting on the sands. And Senar, who appeared to have his eyes shut? Now Ralvyn had never Stood before, but he’d watched plenty of Hatchings. And he knew that they tended to become dangerous affairs. Dragon hatchlings didn’t tend to be deliberately aggressive, but if you got between them and their chosen rider – well, they had teeth and claws, and things got ugly. He quietly sidled himself into place between Senar and Tekaine; neither of them looked particularly large, fortunately for little Ral, and he’d probably be able to drag either one out of the way of a rampaging hatchling if he had to. Leaning over slightly, he whispered a brief “are you all right?” to the sitting man, who looked quite ill. Perhaps he ought to leave the Sands for his own safety, if he couldn’t even stand up…

[giftwrapped]

Semith's babies Hatching was good for Semith - and Kith understood and acknowledged that. Which was why he hid the yellow from his eyes as best he could, turning away whenever La pointed out that he was flaring up and could calm himself. That the outlaws' eggs had Hatched was good. That outlaws had run off with so many eggs that had such a high potential to hatch dragons that attached to dangerous personalities and hurt people.....

Hey! Here's Ralvyn! And the sudden cheer brought a whirl of vibrant green to the dragon's eyes. He lifted his head and crooned loudly at Ralvyn, not moving (he didn't want to disturb the eggs or something like that) but making it quite plain that he was motioning toward the Apprentice-cum-Candidate. How are you doing, Ralvyn? Are you doing well? Are you excited? He purred loudly, leaning down and nudging his rider. See, La? Everything is perfect!

....He's darling, isn't he. La glanced briefly at Leshta, reached over and squeezed the goldrider's shoulder. "I'll be right back, Lesh, okay?" she asked softly, and then, with all the tact and attention to decorum that La always mustered, she dashed off, skirting an egg and striding cheerily into the Candidates. She made a beeline for Ralvyn, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug and rubbing his back gently. "Chin up, kiddo," she hissed in his ear. "You'll do fine."

Lanakirene, come back here. You'll have time to hug him when he Impresses.

Maybe he'll get one of yours, La answered, letting go of the Apprentice and slinking back to her dragon. What do you think, Kith? One of your babies is for him, right?

I hope so.

[puppetmaster]

Bow chikka wow wow! WOW WOW. Everyone was gathering and the eggs friggen knew it. As all the candidates came to see them shiver and quake, they did so in good form. Howling Moon seemed to be the only... less then enthusiastic. It rocked weakly to and fro, against it's sibling, the Violet Brush egg. It seemed like things were going smoothly, the theft aside, each egg moving even a bit. Proud clutchparents, full of hugs and hopes and dreams.

Such broken fragile souls.

That's when a purple foot shot from the Violet Brush, little claws flexing and wriggling in the air as if it were a cat with a bellyrub a bugle sounded from the shell, confused at this whole... not being free thing. What? Another rock and the egg crumbled, fluttering to the ground to reveal the obviously near-neon purple Wildflower Hatchling. She shook her head, freed from egg parts, and headed straight towards the Candidates. Her eyes were blue enough, feet in a happy prance, but that didn't mean she wouldn't shove La rather firmly away from Ralvyn. At least, she tried. Being the size of a lapdog hindered onces ability to be forceful.

If Dragons could have an accusing expression, Wildflower pulled it off. She huffed a little to La, looked to the scrawny boy, and grabbed him by the white Candidate robes. The purple shook his clothing like a dog would, a playful puppy, until the terrier sized girl began to drag him out towards her parent and granddam.

Rainbows? Absent. But unless Ral wanted to possibly hurt an infant, he'd follow along and La would leave them alone.

[tuathade]

Ral tended to move into Healer-mode without even realizing it, when there were people nearby who might need tending. Yet when Kith called out to him, his attention snapped right back to where it should be: the Hatching, and the woman cheerfully ignoring protocol and making her way across the sands towards him. Like sunlight breaking through clouds, his puzzled frown turned into a brilliant smile from ear to ear.

Kith was right. Everything was perfect. Nothing else mattered.

He returned Lanakirene’s hug with interest, up on his tiptoes a little to more properly hug the taller woman. “Tell Kith congratulations from me,” he laughed, then let go to beam at her. Over her shoulder, he could see the eggs beginning to rock – all the eggs, all of them from both clutches. A clutch full of healthy children. And then the Violet Brush quivered and shot forth a tiny foot –

“Purple,” he breathed. “She’s purple, oh La, look, she’s marvelous.” He was totally guessing on the pronoun of course. But she just… looked like a she, didn’t she? With that color and that pretty little prance and oh, she was just so small and delicate! And… coming straight at him.

“Er. Hello? Hello, dear, I, ah – can I help you?” She grabbed the edge of his robe and tugged, and Ralvyn followed along obediently. He certainly wasn’t going to argue with a baby, especially not a fantastic little purple one! No rainbows, no voice in his head… She wasn’t his, and Ralvyn was fine with that. He was fine with anything at this point. Just being this close to a brand-new atypical color was enough to take his breath away.