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** Pyrene just set the @party! Type @party to check it out! **
A clutching! A clutching! Santa Cadgwith is in league with the Easter
Druseth and they're setting eggs on the Sands at High Reaches. *Small print:
everything is NPC. Real Search opens in February*
-- entered by Pyrene on 2001-12-21 12:39 MOO Time. (9 seconds)
Druseth senses Cadgwith gushes suddenly, a spurt of excitement coming unannounced. <<I know something you don't know!>> she teases, making use of a weyrbrat taunt.
Druseth thinks to you, << I bespoke Cadgwith with: Druseth gives a mental stare. Blinkblink. A slow, puzzled drift of puffy, blood-red clouds lingers on his words. << Uhhhhhh. >> Lookit Dru. He's oblivious, like all males. << What would that be? >> There's not things to be /eaten/ around, are there? >>
Druseth senses Cadgwith ripples. Food? This is /far/ more important. <<Proof of our flight,>> she returns, imaging the hatching grounds even as she makes for them.
<High Reaches Weyr> Druseth senses that Cadgwith extends the message past the sire now, great waves of warm self-satisfaction radiating through the chilled weyr. <<Eggs.>>
Druseth thinks to you, << I bespoke Cadgwith with: Druseth stares once again, distraction apparent as he gives another puzzled blink. There weren't /pictures/, were there, 'cause that could be... Oh. Yes. Hatching grounds. << Wait. /Now/? >> Luckily, he doesn't have a panic mode. But he's pretty close to his version of 'eek!'. >>
Sands' Thermals
As you hover and glide in the air above the sands, warm thermals
rise to buffet you gently, the heat losing its intensity somewhat as it
hits the cooler air from above. All around, the high walls of the Hatching
Ground rise, holding in the heat and edged with ledges for dragons to land
on and watch the joyous event that occurs below.
Obvious exits:
Gallery Ledges Windtunnel (Bowl)
Ledges
Battered by thermals, you circle lower and lower till *thud*, you
reach the relative safety of thermal Sands.
Sands
Heat rises -- ripples -- wavers in a stifling curtain that envelops
dragons and eggs while smothering riders and visitors. The black
sands have been raked into ruts and dips, an alien, uneven surface for
anyone trying to walk across them. Some say tension seers the heat:
residue of hope, fear, relief, sadness, pain and ultimate joy staining
high grey walls and lurking about the many viewing ledges that speckle
the walls. Ancient murals of dragonlore fade across the walls near
gallery and entrances.
Tucked watchful and warm onto a ledge are Rydia and OOCVision Camera.
Gold Cadgwith is here.
Pyrene is here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Sands' Thermals
<High Reaches Weyr> Druseth senses that Branwyth sends warm feelings of spiced, mulled wine <<Thhhhhhhhhhrrruuuuuuummmm!>>
On the ledges, Zizth scrambles in, careful of wings and tail.
Two pregnant figures make their way onto the Sands, but only one is intending to end her pregnancy here and now. The other one can but hope. "I'm sure Druseth will be fine, love.. I don't think browns are /that/ much more flighty than bronzes," Pyrene soothes Cadgwith, even as said brown lands. "Just go... make your furrows." And the gold does so.
On the ledges, Slippa slides down from Zizth's tart apple neck and lands
gently on the ground.
On the ledges, Slippa edges further along the ledge and into the galleries.
<High Reaches Weyr> Druseth senses that he sends a faint, cloudy call out to the Weyr... << Oh. My. >> *Thud* Is that the sound of the clutchdaddy fainting? Let's hope not.
In the galleries, Sinead slips into the galleries, finding herself a nice place to sit as she goes.
On the ledges, Cerdith wings into the bowl, fairly prickling with curiosity at Cadgwith's announcement. Reiko, for her part, is generally glad of an opportunity to rest somewhere warm, even though she's still rubbing sleep out of her eyes and she's evidently dressed with some haste.
On the ledges, Cerdith extends a graceful forelimb as Reiko dismounts, easing her way safely to solid ground.
Cadgwith swishes a particularly beautiful trench into existence with her tail, all the while eyeing Druseth firmly. He should really be making himself useful. Head extending, she nudges him. Put a furrow there... no, /there/.
Squeak. Squeak. "Pyrene! He said... and she's gonna... and... yeah!" Lylia gives a far more panicked look than her brown can manage, hopping down his back and across the sands towards the goldrider. Druseth slinks quickly after, eyes whirling quick-quick-quicker. With a strangled croon, the dragon's gaze barely tears from the oh-so-large gold. Uh. Here? Oh. /Here/. He can do that. And like he's ripping into a herdbeast, the dragon makes a sloppy trench with his tail and forepaw. Needs practice.
Pyrene wriggles a little, and throws a glance into the galleries as she tries not to set too much weight on the sands. "Hello!" she calls cheerily. They seem a lot more capable of rational conversation than Lylia who merely gets an encouraging slap on the back.
In the galleries, Sinead sighs slightly, as for once her fair of firelizards where right about something. Sitting back she watches the occurences on the sands, half listening to the riders, half watching the dragons.
Cadgwith throws Druseth a devilish look suddenly and sidles over to him, settling her hindquarters in the trench he just dug. She knows what he needs to improve it, yes she does. Her head rubs briefly along his neck, and then she rises, crooning smugly. Lookit. She put an egg there while he wasn't looking.
Pink Puppy Dog Koosh Ball Egg
Candyfloss pink curls into little piggy-tails over shell's fluffy
baby-pink surface, making the whole egg more spheroid than ovoid and almost
devoid of an apex. Two small eyes peek out of a cerise plastic face, a
cute button nose with tiny whiskers that almost look as if they'd tickle
poking out to either side. Four paws press against the sides of the egg,
softly padded with flamingo felt and devoid of sharp claws; and a tail,
long and plastically fluffy, wraps around in a curl at the back of the
egg. The egg as a whole just screams out for you to touch it, to squeeze
it, and feel that cuddly-soft non-fluffy fluffy stuff that seems to coat
it.
Lylia can't help it. Not her fault that she kind of forgot this part of the process. Pyrene's the old hag... er, old hat at this. Rubbing her arm nervously, the rider just sort of stares. "So. Um. They're gonna... Oh!" It's an egg! She's a grandma! Sort of.
On the ledges, Reiko settles herself on the ledge, reclining against Cerdith's shoulder and watching quietly.
Pyrene squeezes Granny-Ly's hand. "It's just the clutching," she reminds her. "They've got to hatch yet." And she's going to start odds on Lylia's surviving that as soon as this is over. "Well done, dear..." she calls over to Cadge. "Auri will like that one. And so will a few other greenriders around." Her eyes drift to the galleries, amused.
Druseth is a good boy, fangs bared and grinding in tension as he digdigdigs, making a slow line with those flesh-ripping claws. Sneezing as sand flies at his muzzle, the brown gives a strange look at Cadge as she approaches, before just. Staring. Her touch is barely noted as he lowers his muzzle to the sand. Blinkblink. It's an egg. It's his egg. Raaawr. Oh, she can share it, though... But those people in the galleries better stay away.
In the galleries, Sinead oohs and ahhs as she watches the laying of the first egg, a pink egg at that. "Ooh, it's lovely Cadg!" She offers to the golden dragon.
"It's pink." That it is. Two of the most fearsome, looming dragons in the Weyr and... it's pink. Lylia's staring doesn't quite stop. "Yeah. I think Auri will like it. But if she tries to hug it, I think Druseth'll eat her." Pink. /Pink/. The rider glances up at the galleries. "It's /pink/," she calls. Yes, Ly. You know your colors, we're so proud.
Cadgwith has got lots of eggs, she has. Dru can have some and she can have some. Sound fair? Pausing for a moment near another furrow, she stares at Lylia curiously. The brownrider is having kittens... And it looks like fun. Can Cadge try?
Fuzzy-Wuzzy Snuggly-Wuggly Kittens Egg
Soft tufts of tabby gray slink down the curved sides of the shell,
rolling and tumbling merrily across splays of pretty pastel pink and lively-chasing
lavender. Round splotches of twilight stare out from among the pale tones,
a playful stare watching for the flicker of movement, any movement. A twitching
dot of pink is set between the cerulean shapes, accented by the etched
lines set on either side. It's cute enough to hug.
Because You Can Never Have Too Many Cute Kittens Egg
Pale orange and happy yellow dance delicately across the surface
of this egg, drizzling tabby stripes over the kitten-sized expanse of shell.
Stripes of black gives way where whiskers surround a dainty pink nose;
two luminous emerald circles break the pattern as well, staring curiously
away over the horizon of the shell's curve. Silent the egg is, with no
voice, but the simple demand remains, that its smooth and soft curves be
touched and stroked.
In the galleries, Sinead grins as two more eggs are hatched, both of which remind her of her fuzzy feline friend. "Aww, this is going to be a lovely clutch," she notes the the person sitting nearest her, the fact that there's a pink one in there doesn't seem to matter to Sinead.
Pyrene shrugs at Lylia. "Those aren't pink," she suggests helpfully. Turning around at approval from the galleries, she grins up at Sinead. Look... somebody who will save her the bother of destroying her vocal chords. But Cadge does demand encouragement as she goes.
Lots and lots of eggs, right? Druseth's a buff little studboy, after all... The sight of two more eggs results in another flurry of movement from the brown, his haphazard trenches turning much neater as he digs in nice little evil patterns. Because they're evil eggs, right, they're... oh. Fuzzy. Huh.
"Yeah... But... look at them. They're. /Cute/." And Lylia suddenly beams, all fluttery, slinging an arm around Pyrene's shoulders. "Perfect though. Right? Right?" From the most perfect-est of perfect golds. Because she's got good taste in men. Yes.
Cadgwith likes encouragement, and she likes eggs outside of her rather than in her. And why can't she have pink eggs? And they're very beautiful eggs, just like Dru's very beautiful. The gold shakes herself, sides rippling as she tries to get comfortable with all the shifting going on within. Only one cure for that...
Super-Fluffy, Sugar-High-Inducing Cotton Candy Egg
Coruscate pink almost dances right off the fragile shell, hyperactive
splotches of wine-red spinning in dizzying whirls around and around and
around, ready to catapult off into the distance. Fluffy, puffy incarnadine
clouds most of the spherical surface, dusting lightly across it like a
sugar-sweet rain, a thick fog of coalesced candy coating. A few hints of
creamy white are visible near the base, like a child's gnashing teeth ready
to sink in.
Pyrene eyes Lylia, missing the latest study in pinkness. "And what's wrong with cute?" she demands. "They'll hatch cute dragons after all."
In the galleries, Sinead claps slightly as yet another egg makes it's appearance. "Oooh, it's lovely Cadg!" She exclaims, having forgotten all of her new lady-like manners, at least for now.
On the ledges, "What unusual-looking eggs." Reiko's comment probably doesn't reach beyond the gallery ledge, as there's no one near enough for her to actually be commenting to. Well, except for Cerdith, but he hardly needed to have the thought vocalized for him. She shifts herself to a more comfortable position and shoots a wicked grin at the riders on the Sands. "Think they'll all be cute?" she calls teasingly. She remembers the clutch Cerdith came from as being... well, something other than cute, actually. Not that she's got any complaints at all about the appearance of the dragon that chose her.
Cadgwith rests from her labours. All four of them so far. Her tail twitches around Druseth's as she surveys the eggs. Not bad at all. Cute's nice.... They /are/ babies. They're meant to be cute. What's so surprising?
"Nothin' is wrong with cute. But. It's kinda weird. It's like your dragon mated with /Auri/. But, since it's Druseth and Cadgwith, we /knew/ they were gonna have cute dragons. I mean, lookit them. It's a given." In Lylia's eyes, her dragon is the epitome of cuteness and sexiness. Despite the fangs. And the slobbering. And the weird growling. Ly tosses a bright gaze up at Reiko. "Every one of 'em!"
Pyrene tips her head upwards to Reiko. "All the ones that take after Cadge at least," she yells. "Anything else I'm blaming on Druseth." And she glares at Lylia. Auri! Really!
Druseth gives a sweet, trilling croon to the latest of the lot. But he promises not to lick it. The brown lets his tail trace along Cadge's, another croon directed at her, more soft. He's /impressed/ now. 'Cause. Cadge laid /eggs/. And they're /cute/. Can he get her a herdbeast? A cup of wherry blood? She /must/ be tired, I mean, look, there's /four/ and they're /nice/...
Cadgwith sends Pyrene a brief look. She's supposed to be paying attention and helping. She'll trade her in for Sinead... she's not looking for a lady, just somebody who will give her the proper encouragement. This is /not/ as easy as it looks you know. Head turning, she all but bats her eyelids at Druseth. See? He's got the idea. And just for him:
Neverending Springtime Daisy-Chain Egg
Eternity spirals 'round and 'round, verdant lines weaving in and
out of each other, alabaster petals dripping from the vines, contrasted
by their golden centers. Sprightly shades of new-grown grass spring up
along the base of the egg, twining with the floral chains, which seem caught
in a morning breeze. The handiwork of children seems evident in the way
they carelessly sprawl across the shell, the delicate, interwoven flowers
scattered across it like stars.
Happy Dancing Squirrels Egg
O happiness! O ecstasy! Chestnut splotches dance their glorious,
floppy-tailed dances across the curved shell, weaving in and out around
each other, intricate choreography dictating their hyperactive, chittering
paths. A haze of scarlet and orange licks upwards in the middle, a gleaming
bonfire of ancient ritual. Gleeful smears of pastels and pretty pink slide
alongside the critter-like shapes, shadowing them with splendiferous joy.
The rodents' delight and furry, rear-shaking frenzy is cast over with flecks
of shimmering silver, brightness and light cascading over the squirrel
parade.
In the galleries, Sinead grins again, daisies and squirrels, quite lovely, and though the guard can't get a good look at them, she can tell they're just as lovely as the last four. "Lovely, just lovely. Cute too."
"Hey. Not /fair/." Lylia is sad now. Sulk. "Can't blame /Druseth/. He's sweet and cute like... a creampuff. You can't blame a creampuff." She'll ignore the utterly resentful growl emitting from the brown's direction. La de dah. "Ooh!" And now she's pointing at the new ones. See? /She/ pays attention.
Pyrene considers the latest, particularly the squirrels one. OK... there /is/ something slightly unsettling about these eggs. But still. They're /Cadge's/. "You're doing beautifully, dear," she assures the dragon. "If Dru's a cream-puff, then that would explain these eggs," she points out to the brownrider next to her.
Druseth encourages, once he's done glowering at his rider. He'd be out there shaking pom-poms of wherry entrails if he could. Go Cadge, go. Woo. Puttering around with his slinky step, the dragon seems torn between extending his trenches and twittering at Cadge's side. But he's a good boy, and keeps digging. They'll be enough trenches for a hundred eggs. And there'll be a hundred. Right?
Lylia eyes the squirrel egg. Okay. That's one Mira doesn't get to see. "C'mon, Druseth. That's my man," she croons to her brown creampuff-with-legs. "I'm not sure anything can explain them," she mutters to Pyrene, with a little shake of the head. I mean. That last one is /creepy/.
Cadgwith noses her sides for a moment, thoughtful. Counting she's not good at, but she has a suspicion there will be somewhat less than a hundred. Sorry, Dru. But she'll try....
Miniature Novelty Teacups Egg
Pastel designs lightly trace around the porcelain shell, floral
patterns of well-to-do lilies and daisies curling prettily along the surface.
Fragile handle-shapes dart 'round in more creamy tones. The elegant swirls
of milk and honey whisper along earl grey hues, masking the tiniest of
spiderweb lines marring the surface. Prim, proper doilies of woven alabaster
shades dart across the base of the undersized egg, completing the seemly
appearance.
Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia Alfalfa Puppy Egg
Fine green hairs sprout from a pudgy terracotta base, a thick fur
growing with persistant verdancy - never moldy, never ugly. An amorphous
animal face smirks in glossy black, features polished smooth and cuddly-snub.
A squat base keeps the egg upright, sturdy paw shapes more featureless,
suggested shapes in the fertile clay that births life without and nurtures
life within.
Llama Sock-Puppet Egg
Swirling honey-brown shades form pretty curls and wispy tufts across
the curved surface, a few dark shadows seeming like worn spots in the pattern.
A pair of onyx splotches peer cheerfully out from the shell, cute buttons
of color that perch above a muzzle like stretch of cinnamon, a thin line
of coal etched upon it like a dopey smile. A glittery, crystalline smear
seems to gleam next to it. Ew, llama spit. An odd little lump just barely
pokes out from the top... a heel, perhaps? The egg isn't saying, just keeping
its friendly, silent appearance.
Pyrene points to the Chia one. "That one's Druseth's," she declares. She's disowning that one /right/ now.
In the galleries, Rhapsody comes up the stairs.
In the galleries, Sinead eyes and is slightly take aback as three eggs are suddenly set before them for everyon to adore, or at least wonder over. She chuckles over the apparent cuteness of the newest trio, teacups, alfalfa puppy dogs and llama like sock puppets, oh my. "Quite cute!" Is all that's offered this time, though she does offer a smile to the quartet on the sand, though whether the sock puppet's cute or not is yet to be decided.
Cadgwith lingers for a moment in favouritism over the sock-puppet egg. She's decided it /is/ cute. However, if her nose lent itself to being wrinkled, it would do so. She's tired of these multiple efforts. She does feel a lot better though, and so she soldiers on... if in single file.
Sugar 'n' Spice 'n' Everything Nice Egg
Frosty, crystalline flecks dust across the candy-sweet shell, scrumptious
patterns dancing among sweeping swirls of cinnamon and nutmeg. Glittering
magenta and violet run happily in curling, twirling bows around the base
of the egg, pristine vanilla dripping across their path. Prim and proper,
not the slightest hint of malice hides among the bright shades.
"Fine, then." Lylia will take it back to her weyr, then. Bah. /She/ thinks it's cute. "Awww. It's /green/. C'mon." She likes green. Better than pink.
"It's slightly disturbing," Pyrene maintains, before she turns to approve of the sugar egg. "Oh! That one's nice..." One for Dru, one for Cadge.
In the galleries, Rhapsody stands looking at all the eggs on the sands she noods to herself then looks at all the Weyrfold around her.
In the galleries, Sinead seems to take a liking to the Sugar 'n' spice egg, though she can't get a good view at this point. "Oooh, that's a beautiful one Cadg!" She exclaims happily as she eyes the egg.
Druseth nearly passes out. /Three/. A /nice/ three. Though the llama one makes him a little hungry to look at... And woe is him, no blood on the sands to suit his craving! For a moment, his gaze drifts up to the galleries. Lovely people, with lovely, full veins... Nah. That'd be wrong. With another low, encouraging purr, the dragon proceeds to peer at the latest one. Inspection time... Yep, it's cute. Back to digging for His Lady.
In the galleries, Rhapsody says, "All the eggs are so beutiful, and
i've seen a dragons egg before."
In the galleries, Rhapsody has disconnected.
In the galleries, Rhapsody falls asleep.
Cadgwith is proud of this clutch so far. Nobody's screamed 'ugly' yet. She'd mate with Druseth again... assuming he can catch her again, of course.... But she'll make more eggs, just for him. Then they can brood over them together. And she produces another egg, in token of this bright future.
My Little Pony Egg
A parade of plasticky pastels paints this plump egg with a pastiche
of playful perfection; a palette of peaches and purples presents a pandemonium
of pony-patterns that prance around its pointed peak. Sleek as silk is
the smooth shell, settled on the Sands in a state of sugar-sweet - some
might say sickly-sweet - slumber.
On the ledges, Reiko is busy trying to remember what the eggs in Cadgwith's last clutch looked like. Faranth knows she'd been paraded out often enough to look at them -- why does it all seem like such a blur now? Maybe because she hasn't had any klah yet... She yawns hugely, oblivious to Druseth's hungry gaze, and settles herself to the business of counting. "Six, seven..." She scowls lightly, wishing Cadge and Druseth were in just slightly different positions. She can't see properly. "How many now?" she calls, in case Pyrene or Lylia are keeping track.
Pyrene wriggles her fingers... "Ten? Twelve? Eleven?" she wonders. She's lost track. And she's trying to decide whether or not she likes that last one. All the eggs are starting to look faintly disturbing now. She hasn't seen this much cuteness together since she left the brat-caves.
In the galleries, Sinead looks over towards the pony egg, eyeing it a bit. "Yet another cute one, quite a collection," she notes slightly as she begins an attempt to count the number of eggs.
Wait. She was supposed to /count/? D'oh! Lylia knew she forgot something... Especially considering the number of bets she placed. "Uhhhhh," she mumbles, trying to come up with some mental consensis with Druseth. Which still leaves them with a number of 'uhhhh'. The last one is cuuuute, though. Beam.
Cadgwith knows she's laid more eggs than she has legs. But nobody knows if she'll lay more than she has toes.
First a llama puppet, now a pony. No wonder Druseth's hungry. The vampire lurks like a shadow along his oddly-dug trenches, trying not to make them cave in. Don't wanna have to start over. The latest one gets eyed for a moment, before he moves on. Nice enough, really. Hey. He's a superstud. He certainly wouldn't turn down mating with the gold again, certainly not...
Cadgwith waves her tail at Druseth. It was supposed to indicate her reproach at the mere idea of eggs making one hungry, but it's an injudicious gesture, and the gold fairly scrabbles as she braces herself properly for the next onslaught.
Marshmallow Peep Egg
This oddly-shaped egg gleams almost pink in hue, its crystalline
surface catching the light and reflecting it at odd angles. A cryptic pair
of black spots nearest the narrow tip seem to gaze back at those who would
feast their eyes on its sugary, shimmering loveliness. It almost looks
good enough to eat, but beware! Like sweets left too long in their basket,
the hot Sands will render this confection as solid as granite, and almost
as tasty.
On Cloud Nine Egg
Billowing strands of pearl wrap around the puffed sides of this
medium-sized egg, tinged with gray at the very edges, gray that gradually
expands to steel blue. Striated layers of dawning amethyst and glowing
amber peek through eclipsed portions of midnight sapphire and verdant green
as each wispy thread traverses across the middle.
Never mind Druseth, Pyrene suddenly has cravings for toasting sweets on an open fire... Of course, she can blame her pregnancy. What's Dru's excuse?
In the galleries, Sinead oohs again, for what seems the to be the zillionth time so far. "Yet another set of beauties," she notes about the newest duo. The guard takes a look at the two before she quickly picks a prefrence out of the two, though for her to find a favorite of the group, impossible.
Mope. Now Druseth's even /more/ hungry. The strangely-shaped egg gets a tentative stare and a snuffle, before the dragon backs off, beaming slightly as his gaze turns to the cloud nine egg. It's /gray/. He /likes/ gray. Woo. The brown's once more in Big Bad Protector mode as he hovers around Cadgwith. Oh, such a lovely clutch, no one up there had better be looking /too/ hard... Or it's snack time.
"That one's weiiiird." Lylia stares at the Marshmallow Peep egg, keeping her voice quiet enough so that Druseth will hopefully ignore the remark. "But it reminds me of Cadge." Because Cadge is sugary and sweet? Riiiight.
Cadgwith allows Druseth to have the grey egg for his very own then. For the next few sevendays anyway. She scrapes sand over this pair, before settling herself into a Dru-made furrow for the next. The dragon-eggs came down two-by-two, hurrah! Hurrah!
Sparkling Faerie Dust Egg
Glittering specks of gold and bronze spread across the surface of
this egg, rounding too-pointed edges and gliding downwards into a pool
of swirling amethyst, emerald and sapphire. Dancing, shinging threads
of silver dart above, below and between solitary strands of brown and red,
each forming a tightly woven basket upon which, a singular, glowing sapphire
orb is nestled.
Bed of Roses Egg
Dollops of primrose and splashes of crimson scatter across the surface
of this egg. Carnation gathers around the sides, before merging with
a lush foliage carpet of rich verdant. Splashes of yellow-green extend
upwards to weave around rose and pale fuschia as the top portion of the
egg is reached. Between each gap in the topmost portion is a glimpse
of a baby-blue sky.
Pyrene is approving. "I think that's fifteen. We should break twenty comfortably then," she assures Ly.
In the galleries, Sinead claps some more as more peering is done. Faerie Dust and Bed of Roses are both admired and a prefrence for this duo is not made, it's far too hard.
Twenty? Twenty? Cadge doesn't feel up to that today. How about quality in place of quantity?
Auri Egg
It's.... pink, and indeed as pertly shaded as puckered lips or a
squealing piglet. Blushing clouds cuddle the shell from its tenderly tapered
tip to the cheekily chubby bottom. Playing ring-a-rosy, bountiful curls
of gold bounce around cherubic curves, a halo sparkling an avowal of innocence.
Whether truly seraphic or not, it stands diminutive and adorable: never
could this be mistaken for a queen egg. Instead it reigns supreme as the
petite, pristine, perfect, pink princess of the sands.
On the ledges, Reiko is looking just hard enough to count... but mostly she's enjoying being someplace warm. She's already shed her jacket and opened the top couple of buttons on her shirt. How long do these things take? And can she stay here after they've finished? Nevermind she's got sweeps this afternoon. She does sit forward though at the sparkly one. Nice colors. "Bet we have another clutch of blues," she says just a bit more loudly than necessary, eyeing Pyrene sidelong.
Cadgwith stares with deep satisfaction at that last egg, and promptly curls herself around it. She's done, and she's keeping this one. Druseth can choose one now.
In the galleries, Sinead looks at the pink egg, which somehow remides her of Auri. "Hmm, strange, reminds me of one of the riders," she notes softly. The guard stands up and moves to the edge of the galleries, trying to get as close of a look at the eggs as possible.
"Another..." That's a lot of eggs. A lot of nice little dragons running around. Lylia gives a little wince. "I'll have to deal with them all, won't I?" She doesn't mind the dragons, it's the attached riders... "Aww." Mope. Done? Done? Noooo. Well. Still. "It's the /best/ clutch ever." In all of Pern's history. Forever and ever. Even if this last one sends a shiver down her spine...
Pyrene eyes her dragon. "That's it?" Recount. "But there's only sixteen..." she mutters before pulling herself together. "Sixteen it is!" she calls to the gallery. "Cadge is smart enough not to lay more than the weyr needs." The dragon looks at her approvingly. Nice save.
In the galleries, Sinead grins and nods. "Their all quite lovely," she calls out to the quartet on teh sand. "Congratulations!" Is also offered as she continues her peering.
Druseth stares at the last one. Silent, for just a moment of puzzlement. It's more than pink, it's... Really, Really Pink. And a little scary. Even as big and brooding and bad as the vampire-dragon his, he shrinks away just slightly, though giving a loving croon to the egg. The brown gives a docile rumble to Cadge, heaping on mental waves of praise. They're pretty. She can have that last one, though, he'll stick with his nice little gray one. The dragon hovers near it, but hunching on the sands close to Cadgewith, his tail flicking happily against her leg. Little ones.
"Sixteen. It's a nice number. A perfect number. Just enough to be nice for the weyrlingmasters." Cadge is so very lovely like that, and Lylia knows that Druseth loves her that much, not to put too much stress on her. And sixteen is a nice number. "Looklook!" Ly calls up to the galleries, as if they haven't been watching.
In the galleries, Sinead has finished her peering, though she does applaud.
"Sixteen, yeah!" And with this, she heads off, back to celebrate, or something
interesting like that. "Good job!"
In the galleries, Sinead goes out.
On the ledges, Cerdith watches a moment longer, until he's satisfied that the show is over, and then nudges Reiko's shoulder rather firmly. With a sigh, she gets to her feet and shrugs into her jacket. It's still cold out there... colder still with sweeps to be flown.. and if she doesn't get some klah in her soon she'll be no good to anyone. She gives a wave to Pyrene and Lylia on the Sands. "Nice clutch," she calls out, not adding that they'll be up to their ears again in weyrlings in no time. No point stating the obvious, after all.
On the ledges, With the help of a handy strap and a gracefully extended
forelimb, Reiko swings up onto Cerdith's neck and settles in comfortably.
On the ledges, Cerdith is all but plucked from the ledge by the Sands'
thermals.
Cute Eggs (#2466)
A little pink, a little fluffy; a lot cute, a lot disturbing. Thus
is the produce of Cadgwith and Druseth's loins. Fear.
Message 23 of 23 on *High Reaches (#3155):
Date: Fri Dec 21 14:12:28 2001 CST
From: Pyrene (#11964)
To: *High Reaches (#3155)
Subject: Clutch!
To be blunt and to the point... Cadgwith has clutched 16 eggs.
To soften the blow, Druseth seems to have been a good influence, because they're all terribly cute eggs. Some might say disturbingly cute. And too often pink. But there /are/ only 16 of them. Therefore, it has been decided that they shall not be inflicted on Pern at large. The Searchriders will not ride out of High Reaches in Search of victims. Candidates for the clutch will instead be plucked from the numerous luckless denizens of High Reaches itself. Gamblers predict an increase in 'pressing engagements' outside High Reaches over the next few sevendays for those between the ages of 12 and 23 and dragonless.
OOCly, the eggs will be viewable from the galleries presuming Pyrene gets the clutch object to work or finds somebody to do it for her. Many thanks to Lylia, Lis, Kh'ryn, Reiko, Pyrene, Tevya, Slippa and D'renn for the egg-descs, and of course, everybody's favourite tweaker, Geko! Cadge is normally pretty sociable with an audience, but we can't speak for Dru, so take care.
This of course is /not/ a PC clutch. PC Search will be opening in February. Nobody can Impress from this clutch, although we'll let a few NPCs have a try. Feel free to RP about it all you like though, and if you have any NPC ideas, talk to Pyrene or Lylia.
Those who expressed an interest in Standing without impression... You either need to confirm it to us, or watch out for drooling dragons. You know who you are.
Py'n'Ly, proud grandparents
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**End of Log**