Tiarnath and Rnayth's clutch

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on SouCon MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.
Tiarnath and Rnayth's Clutch
February 20 1999 - Logged by Telinda

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Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Saith rumbles a bit and croons, << What's all lumpy? >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Luiseth stretches her lithe, un-lumpy form gracefully and adds a rumbling query to the rest.

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Duirath sends a caressing thought. << But you look very nice that way Tiarnath. >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Luiseth can't help sounding amused. << You should be more careful, >> she suggests. << See, Saith and I are never lumpy. >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Tiarnath croons softly to Duirath and then snorts at Luiseth. << It feels awkward! >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Saith rumbles a bit, << So go get rid of the lumps? >> She's logical for a dragon.

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Rnayth mutters disgruntledly at Duirath and gently soothes Tiarnath << I am here >> He assures her, as if it were extremely important that he be so.

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Tiarnath snorts at Rnayth. Sharding straight he'd better be around. << Well, the beach looks inviting, don't you think? >> she slips into the middle of a croon.

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Rnayth sounds doubtful as he says << The Beach? Tiarnath.. I don't think that would be a good idea. Not enough protection there from things that might hurt them. Besides. I have the impression that our riders wouldn't like it if we put them there. I seem to remember that they wouldn't like it. I'm not sure why, but they wouldn't. >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Saith rumbles, << If you lay them on the beach, then we can't swim, and my rider likes to swim, it makes her feel less heavy. Besides, the sands in the hatching cavern are much warmer than the ones on the beach, or so my rider says. >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Tiarnath would pout if she could, but sulks instead at Rnayth << You're such a stick in the mud, Rnayth >>

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Luiseth adds her own thoughts to the general consensus. << I would help watch them. I like lying on the beach all day and not having to get up. >>

Dragon> Rnayth bespoke Southern Weyr with << You like Mud, Tiarnath >> He reminds her smugly. << So if being a stick in the mud would make you happy... >>

Telinda peers upwards at the gold, hand on hip, "No. Absolutely no. No way. Nonono! Get the meaning? You can do whatever you want, but you'll do it on the Hatching sands, not the .. No Tiarnath. End of Story!" The gold snuffles a little, looking down at her rider.

Telinda shrugs, "Sorry, I won't let you, it's unsafe, and unbecoming in a senior queen, so we'll do it my way. Again!"

Rnayth rumbles pleasantly at Telinda and K'laarn, tail flicking forward amiably. K'laarn smiles up at his dragon, then blinks as he turns to look at Telinda, "Ah, the,.. I'll clutch my eggs other than where I should, routine?" He just shakes his head and glances at the Gold and adds his own brand of persuasion. "Now Tiarnath, you know the Sands would be much better for you and the eggs, besides, do you want the other weyrs to think poorly of you? And.. of your rider?"

Tiarnath doesn't know, or if she does she won't admit it. She rumbles, swishing her tail. Telinda meanwhile snorts, "Don't you try that tactic with me, if you're egg heavy, go to the sands, I'll follow if Rnayth'll carry me!"

Dragon> Southern Weyr sense that Saith rumbles again, << Won't you upset your rider if you clutch on the Beach, Tiarnath? My rider says that she would likely be very worried all the time if you clutched on the beach. >>

Dragon> Tiarnath bespoke Southern Weyr with << My rider worries over everything. >>

Rnayth dips his head, nostrils wuffling at Telinda affectionately. K'laarn says "Sure he will. Come on, lets climb up." He offers a hand to the Weyrwoman.

Telinda grins, "Thank you, Rnayth! Off you go Tia, we'll be watching, so none of your funny tricks now!"

You pause as the young bronze crouches close to the ground. You step forward, foot on his foreleg as your hand grasps the riding straps and you clamber up to his back while hauling yourself with the straps.

K'laarn easily climbs upwards onto Rnayth's proffered foreleg, then vaults the rest of the way to his neck where he seats himself comfortably. He looks down at the young bronze and pats his neck lovingly.

|*| Rnayth urges Tiarnath to move with a nudge of his head before his wings spread and he launches skyward.

|*| From a distance, Tiarnath moves towards the gaping cavern of the Hatching Grounds.

|*| Rnayth settles to the sand gently, comfortably crouching beside his mate with a warble of greeting. His head turns as he glances at the two sitting on his shoulders.

You carefully slide one of your legs to the other side of the dragon, then scramble downwards.

K'laarn twists himself, sliding down from Rnayth's neck toward his foreleg. He then hops down agiley.

K'laarn thumps Rnayth good naturedly after dismounting. "We're here." He says solemnly, then abruptly smiles. "Telinda, how close is she?" He glances at Weyrwoman and queen.

From the Galleries, Lily strolls in to the galleries, eagerly looking to the sands. She cants a wave at Shadara with a, "Heyla."

From the Galleries, Shadara grins and waves from where she sits on a padded bench, "Hey Lily, come to watch?"

From the Galleries, Lily grins and nods, taking a seat near the other greenrider, "I wouldn't miss this! Has she started yet?" And she squints trying to get a clear image of the sands.

From the Galleries, Shadara shakes her head and chuckles, "Not yet, she will soon though I think."

Telinda grins, "Close, as always, dear. Don't think she's be out here if it weren't necessary, do you?"

Tiarnath fusses about the sands -- maybe that patch over there, no, that patch over here, no, not there either.

From the Galleries, Lily ohs, then grins more. "It's always so exciting," she says, leaning forward. Then after a moment, she queries, "So, how have you been?"

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles and grins, "I've been fine, I wish I was as lucky as Tiarnath and could get this over with as easily." she says, hands patting her huge belly."

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles a bit, "Sometime within the next month or two they tell me, but more likely the lower number from my size."

From the Galleries, Lily says "I'm sure you'll be ready for it. And E'dar too, I'd bet.""

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles and nods, "Yeah, everytime I wake in the night he asks me if it's time yet."

Tiarnath starts fussing about the sands. At first she smoothes the sand, then she digs it up obviously unhappy with her primary effort. Another attempt at smoothing it is accompanied by a snort. Sharding Hatching Grounds! An odd rumble goes towards Telinda and Rnayth as she attempts to make this nasty, boring sand more comfortable. Then finally, she turns slightly, facing the galleries. Hrmf, not that way, and she turns away. The pearly gold of her belly begins to ripple with the suggestion of a contraction and then her tail swishes, lifting away from her body as she eases herself down against the sand. A low growl rumbles from the queen as slowly, her first egg is laid upon the sand in the place she has made for it.

From an ocean of sparkling slate-greens, which bathe the base of this shell, verdant-green headlands rise from the sea floor. The crashing of waves that break in foamy-whites against the rocky promontories serves to force the narrow strait, from a bay to a briny expanse, apart. However, high above and joining the cliffs, is what seems to be a bridge, constructed from deep iron-reds. Twin towers point gracefully upwards, almost as if they are trying to push free of the ethereal white-fog that shrouds the majestic heights from the brilliant azure that caps the apex.

From the Galleries, Lily grins at Shadara, then her eyes turn back to the sands and the activity there.

Tiarnath spends a long moment after depositing the last egg to inspect the sand around her, as if wanting to make sure she's leaving her precious bundles in -precisely- the right places. Her head swings gracefully to the left and right, at some distance from the small mound of eggs, before she gives a satisfied snort. Lidding her eyes briefly in concentration, the familiar contraction movement overcomes her and look! There's another one.

K'laarn shakes his head and says, "I was just.. curious as to how much longer before..."

If ever an object was built to last, this particular egg demonstrates a stubborn unyielding strength, a certain implacable character implicit in its stony appearance. Some mysterious architect worked a monumental magic on this ovoid, the odd greyish-brown color forming a sturdy wall of weathered granite, lovingly constructed to withstand all challenges to its imposing presence. Fissures of midnight-blue, royal-purple and forest-green daub the exterior in a network of roughly rectangular shapes, separating the earthy color into puissant building blocks piled high to guard the priceless object within walls that neither Fog, Fall, nor Fire will drive from the warm sands heaped around it. Only some hidden signal from within will cause the fortress to collapse until then, the stone watches and wards with an enigmatic face.

K'laarn speaks too soon however as he turns to glance over Tiarnath with a big grin. "Look at what you did Rnayth." He says proudly, "What you helped to produce." He seems to swell in stature and certainly he sounds proud.

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles softly as she see's the first two eggs, "She and Rnyath always have such lovely clutches."

Telinda smiles as she wanders over to her lifemate, a loving hand brushing over the soft hide, "See, love, it was much better out here, you have much more to choose from in the way of space." Tiarnath snorts, not like she's convinced, on no.

K'laarn crosses to Telinda and stops beside her to watch Tiarnath. One arm snakes out, warmly enclasping the Weyrwoman and gently tugging her close to share an intensely personal moment there in full view of everyone. He leans to her, whispering something intimate and then bestows a kiss on her forehead.

You sense K'laarn whispers, voice thick with emotion, "I love you Tel. Look at this, the continuation of -our- Weyr." His voice says more than his words could ever say.

Tiarnath shifts uncomfortably, heat and sand and lumpiness making her problem all the more obvious. A shift, a wiggle, and a mid-sized egg lies in the sands to be surrounded by the fine, grainy material, lessening the 'problem' one-fold.

Telinda chuckles softly, shaking her head, "Not just ours" she reminds K'laarn gently, hand going up to caress his cheek, "remember that."

Ancient sandstone, worn smooth by thousands of turns of touch, wraps its way around the surface of this egg. Somehow, the colors successively portraying the solidity of its time worn nature -- as unmovable as the past and as solid as the ground it sits upon. Here and there, parts of this otherwise stony ovoid appear as splashes of a lighter hue, almost as if someone had tried to repair it with chalky-white plaster. Other areas appear rough, darker, and filled with shadows, as though worn through to the rock from which it was constructed. All of this is saturated in the heat of emotions, here a splash of rosy-love, there a splash of red-anger, and over there a hint of green-jealousy. At times, the glare of the sun on its surface is bright enough to make eyes tear, and from the way it shines long after Rukbat settles for the night, it seems to hold the heat of the day.

Tiarnath eyes that last egg critically, shifting it just /so/, fussily adjusting it's surrounding sand and neighbors. Soon after, she rocks back with a snort, moving to one side and revealing the next egg carefully deposited on the sand.

Graduated shades of blue enfold this egg like velvet, from deep blue-black, to a brilliant blue-white near the apex, shining out from behind a single dark disk, like the halo of a total solar eclipse that throws the remaining sky into darkness. Below this, barely visible against the fathomless-blue background, are ebony scribed towering monoliths -- each pair topped with a lintel. The structures themselves form concentric rings around the circumference of the ovoid, all aligned in some precise, but mysterious, pattern. Depicted in the front of one of the pairs is a smaller shape, brought out of shadow by the brilliant sapphire-light that shines through the stones to rest across its faintly dappled surface.

Rnayth stands like a solid statue beside Tiarnath, looking implacable. A soft thrumming is coming from his throat though, indicative of his happiness.
From the Galleries, Shadara oohs softly as she see's the newest eggs, hands rubbing at her stomach as she leans forward to look better.

Carefully sitting now, ever-watchful of those eggs already arranged, Tiarnath sighs gustily and moves away, revealing another dampish egg which she promptly cradles in the sand and situates it to face her needs.

Rough reddish crayonings sprawl largely over the bulk of this egg, woodenly cracking in places to reveal the prickly greens that remain otherwise hidden. Bristling forest and yellowish sawdusts cloak the crown concealingly, nearly capping the narrower area and allowing only a glint of azure to peek through, while strong, muscled blacks tangle about the base in a struggling mass. A tower of strength, larger than most of it's mates by a fingerspan or two, it shadows those smaller than it like a canopy of trees.

Several eggs and several degrees of lumpiness later, Tiarnath croons softly, content to nudge sand about with her muzzle for the moment. This restful adjustment doesn't last long, however, as pale belly-hide ripples with another egg-producing contraction, and yet another dragon-to-be lays beside the others.

Sandy-yellows drift upwards around the curves of this egg -- a million tiny grains brushed into one place, forming the graceful arch of a sun-kissed dune. Through the blazing desert, turned into glorious golden fire by the embrace of daylight, a mirage appears. At first the shapes are nothing but shadows, but soon a large triangular image, built from the same sandy stone, can be picked out amongst two smaller pyramids. All point toward the coruscating orb in the picture perfect cerulean-sky. A little further around the circumference, the lines are drawn to depict a strange animal who stands guard, its body that of an overlarge feline, but its head that of a man, colored stripes -- once bright, but now faded with age -- decorating an unusual headdress.

From the Galleries, Lecil hurriedly makes her way up the steps to the galleries, moving over to the railing to peer out over the sands. Her hazel eyes flick back and forth as she mutters, "Wow..."

From the Galleries, Lecil nods slowly, tearing her eyes away from the eggs to look at the other greenrider. "They are amazing...So big, like from Veylith's clutch."

From the Galleries, Briar slips in quietly, nods politely to those she knows, then takes a seat.

From the Galleries, Briar scoots over to make room for the bluerider, then smiles "Hi Nerian. How are you and Tinneth?"

From the Galleries, Briar's smile deepens "I'm doing well. It's good to see Tiarnath laying some eggs. I'm glad I was able to get away for a bit and watch."

From the Galleries, Daysia strides over from the entrance to the hatching cavern.

From the Galleries, Daysia wanders through into the galleries, and then jumps, "Oh! Ah'm sorry. Ah didn' know there were people in here. Shall ah go?"

From the Galleries, Lily looks up at the question, a light smile on her lips. "Go? No, everyone's watching. Feel free to stay."

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles, "Oh feel free to stay, this is one of the best parts, next to the hatching of the eggs."

From the Galleries, Daysia nods, smiling softly, "Oh! Yes'm. Thank ye." Her eyes catch on one of the newest of the eggs, and she lets out an involuntary ooh.

From the Galleries, Joslyn's chin is slightly lifted, her head turned toward the Sands as she bumbles her way up the stairs. The last step catches her off-guard and her toes hang upon it a moment, causing her to lurch and then stumble before she rights herself, frowning at the offensive stair. Hmph. Then, "How many so far?"

Carefully caressing and purposefully warming, the sand knows its job perfectly, though it's foot-burning quality is an added boon. It gives slightly as Tiarnath's next egg is deposited oh-so-carefully, heaping itself about the base with just a bit of prodding from the gold.

Bleak ripples of glittering, sunlit sand -- an impossible expanse of daytime desert -- decorate the mottled shell of this average-sized egg. Irregular sprinklings of thorny green interrupt the otherwise unyielding, sunbaked stretch of heated terrain. Nebulously eerie waves -- pale, sparkling, blue glimpses -- seem to radiate upward, drawing the eye into a cool mirage that vanishes into a shaft of light, revealing more and more of that parched scenery.

Telinda smiles at K'laarn, as she stands near him, arm looped around his waist, "So far, so good" she remarks, gesturing to the eggs.

Tiarnath's looking quite a bit less lumpy, and the egg mound is growing larger, but she's not done yet. Shifting her golden bulk sideways, she freezes, tail raised, and another soft egg appears on the sands. Turning to look at it, she rumbles approvingly and piles warm sand around it.

Rising up from amid the hot sands is an expanse of greens, grey clouds hovering not around the apex, but lying dense at the base. Up the steep sides of this ovoid are the lush greens of a tropical mountain, broken by unforgiving cliffs that reach for the pinnacle. In amongst the jade-greens and stony-greys are curious horizontal markings, terracing in the mountain's face, reminiscent of, but too large to be, steps. A hold built of stone, it seems, graces the curving upper surfaces of the egg's shell, lit by a stray ray of sunlight. Wisps of mist penetrate the deserted buildings, trailing their tendrils across this remote and ancient place.

From the Galleries, Joslyn hmmmms and leans out over the railing slightly, tallying up the eggs that dot the Sands thus far. With a nod, she retires to a bench, dropping her cane and her rear end upon it at once, leaning on her elbow to watch.

With an irritated-sounding grunt perhaps directed towards Rnayth (his fault!), Tiarnath moves ponderously to a patch of empty sand and fusses over it for as long as she can, which isn't long, since those eggs want to get out! Almost immediately her golden belly spasms another egg emerges, rocking against another on the hot sands.

From mostly darkness, a dazzling image arises over the surface of this egg. At first it appears as a shadow, a backdrop to a rising sun, the amethysts of the passing night brushing a fleeting touch across the apex. Gradually though the sun's influence becomes known and a farewell is given to the dark that continues to smother the base. Colours are awakened in this enormous rock that stands sentinel against eons of erosion -- brilliant-crimsons, heated-rubies and rosy-pinks radiate from the rock, as it is embraced by the sun. Eventually, these effulgent shades disappear, merging into shadowed earthy-reds of rocks rich with iron deposits.

Tiarnath shifts her egg heavy bulk on the golden sands of the hatching ground slowly, careful not to jostle her belly. Her tail lashes in a fury of frustration as ripples radiate across her stomach, disturbing the bulges of eggs within. With one hind leg, she sweeps sand out of the way, creating a small hollow, into which she places a small ovoid.

Sandy tones sweep across the surface of this egg, evoking a sense of age as the colours mutate from a bright youthful-yellow, to a wise-cream, before finally concluding in a battered chalky-white and monotone-grey. Shadows are cast along the shell, which, together with it's unique shading, add to the illusion of rectangular walls that tower upwards. In certain lights, it seems as if there are even different levels drawn over this ovoid, particularly one higher peak close to the apex that is shrouded in foreboding and clouded in dark mysteries. A thin, crystal-blue line curves around the base, then disappears underneath to disappear into the sand, looking very much like a river serving the arid sand. The only other point of colour, is formed at the very tip of the shell - a dynamic splash of heraldic, blood-red.

From the Galleries, Daysia watches the clutching with intense fascination. If this is what weyrlife is about, then she's all for it. Just watching a clutching is amazing for her.

Telinda shields her eyes from the sun and squints up to the galleries, spotting a few familiar shapes she waves.

As the bronze sire, Rnayth dips his head to nuzzle gently at one of the eggs, Tiarnath readies herself to deliver another up for her mate's perusal. A scattering of sand and the gold's strident trumpet heralds the arrival of the glistening egg.

K'laarn stands silently beside Telinda, sweat dripping off of his brow and into his eyes, cleared occasionally by the sweep of his clothed arm across his forehead.

Caught in the brush of sunlight as doors to a darkened room are opened, this figure looms large over the surface of the egg - bright gold polished by many worshipping hands is cast in the image of a seated man, legs crossed in front of him. From all around bright orange reflects on the surface of the gold, turning it into a ruddy bronze in the beams of light. Delicate wisps of blue smoke wind upwards, trailing ethereal fingers across the sculpture, whilst around the base many brightly hued tropical flowers rest - from blooms of fuschia to geranium, to garlands of jasmine to marigold.

From the Galleries, Decisively, "That's gold." Joslyn pitches forward a bit more, tossing a wave down at the Weyrwoman on the sands, a pleased expression coloring her own mobile features. "Jeuneth'll have a baby sister." To torment.

From the Galleries, Kytiara walks over from the entrance to the hatching cavern.

Telinda nudges K'laarn out of his sweat wiping routine and points to the new egg, "Is that what I think it is?" she asks cautiously.

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles a bit, "Is that good or bad for the poor hatching that'll come?" she says with a shake of her head.

From the Galleries, Daysia blinks at Joslyn and asks, not shyly, but certainly not filled with confidence, "Do ye really thin' so? A gold? Here?" She gulps, eyeing the egg suspiciously.

Tiarnath gathers sand in her arms, scooping it into a great big mound, a pedestal for prominent, proud display of the golden egg she laid previously. Once the warm pillow is carefully constructed to the precise desires of the golden queen, she turns, scooping her queen egg from its place in the sand and laying it in its casing -- the bedding upon which it will lay and she will protect. She is stirred from this task only once by the emergence of a new egg, which doesn't hold her attention, following in the wake of the gold egg as it does.

Swirls, patches, zigzags and stripes of rusty-red, forest-green, brilliant-blue, sunlit-yellow, crimson and beige cover this egg from tip to base -- indeed, almost every color of the rainbow is represented here in some form or another, including even the purest shade of white. Large oval and circular shapes rise into tall spires tipped in shimmering gold, while darker blemishes appear as windows in the copper-red walls and towers. Graceful curves march side by side with arrow-straight lines, each decorated by engravings and colorful paint. A hauntingly solemn stillness seems to lie over this egg, though joyful songs are also portrayed in the vibrancy of the shades that decorate this shell.

From the Galleries, Joslyn shoots a grin Shadara's way, replying, "A good thing, accourse. Lucky little gold." She stays perched like that, taking note of Tiarnath's activity before she gives a nod and falls back to her seat. "A gold, yup. Bet Rnayth's proud of himself now."

Tiarnath's tongue flickers over the moist surface of a recently laid egg -- nurturing it with all the love and attention a mother would her baby. As she moves the egg into place beside others, heaping it with the heated sand of the grounds, her contracting stomach signals the imminent birthing of another egg. She heaves herself up to her feet, restless now -- soft rumbling emerging from her throat. Abruptly she stills, body going taught, neck stretching forward toward Rnayth as if in supplication. When next she moves, slipping across the sand with the soft whisper of hide across the ground to nuzzle her head against the bronze's neck, the brand new egg is revealed to view.

Over half of this egg is rippled with multitudinous shadings of blue, as might occur when a large body of water is disturbed by the passage of some animal or seacraft. Portions within the watery half are bathed in peaches, pinks, reds, and yellows, as if reflecting a particularly spectacular sunset. The other third or so of the ovoid is a pale sandy-brown, with tall, stately trees portrayed in hues of gray-brown and pine-green. Resting on the shore is an empty gray canoe, which looks as if it were carved from stone.

From the Galleries, Daysia is lost in enjoyment and anticipation for the hatching of these eggs. Imagine being able to watch it! Ohhh, the joy. She gives a nod to Joslyn, saying, "Thank ye' ma'am. Isn't it wonderful?"

Tiarnath directs Rnayth with a snort of flaring nostrils and a toss of majestic head in the disposition of an egg while she sinks to the sand, exhaustion a palpable emotion exuding from the queen. But her trial is not over yet as her belly is seized in the throes of reaction to an egg seeking passage to the world of air. Tiarnath thrashes and is gently stilled by a touch of Telinda's calming presence and a soft and affectionate hand on the queen's roiling flank. Turning her head, Tiarnath watches as an egg emerges from her body, gleaming and wet on the sand.

Lavender, aquamarine and crystalline-blue glint over the surface of this egg - reminiscent of the conglomeration of the cold, dry flavors of ice and earth. Divided by seemingly translucent bands of ice-blue, this ovoid glitters in the frigid hues of a permanently bitter winter -- a frozen canyon caught in the pale, diffused sunshine of a wintery afternoon. Dappled here and there with the purplish shadows of unseen evergreens, this sparkling sphere dances with perfect chill, reflecting and refracting even the palest light into icy bands of sapphire and periwinkle that glimmer over the mottled shell.

From the Galleries, "Be even more wonderful when they hatch," Joslyn comments, rubbing her hands anxiously at the thought of it. She glances back at Briar, only just noticing her it seems. "Oh. Hullo. Southern's to Honshu," with a quick smile.

From the Galleries, Briar nods to Joslyn "And Honshu's duties to Southern and her queens."

From the Galleries, Daysia laughs, her accent taking over normal words, "True enough. That will be a sight I've never seen."

Rnayth looms in front of Tiarnath, hiding her from the view of those that might be watching from the galleries. His wings spread, thrusting into the air and stretching so that only the barest glimpse of gold can be seen. Then he's nosed out of the way by an insistent Tiarnath, who more than likely wants to keep her guarded vision unblocked. There, not far from her tail is what surely must be a brand new egg, its laying haven been hidden behind the screen of the bronze's bulk.

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles and nods as she sighs and watches the eggs being clutched, "Most are so lovely."

Beauty, untouched by time, decorates the shell of this egg. Milky agate washes around the circumference, the surface rippled by the echo of the past but otherwise undisturbed, almost as if its purpose had been forgotten. Flagstones of a creamy-yellow surround this area, some surfaces cracked and fractured by passing seasons, but worn down by many feet in other locations, the smooth depressions a striking contrast to the roughness. Towering from the middle of this ovoid to the apex are sandy-coloured figures, many male from the size and shape, who seem to be wielding swords and dressed in ceremonial uniforms, standing guard over the watery bath below.

From the Galleries, Briar's gaze goes distant for a few moments then she says softly, "Please excuse me. I'm needed back at Honshu." She waves and slips out.

From the Galleries, Joslyn looks back as Briar excuses herself, offering a wave of sorts before she turns back, dragging her feet up to sit cross-legged on the bench. "Who are you, by the way?" she asks of the younger girl, then hmmms? at Shadara. "Eggs're lovely?" Nodnod. "Usually. I've seen some ugly ones, though."

From the Galleries, Daysia blinks, having forgotten that she is around people who don't know her, "Daysia. Daysia of...." She shrugs, "No where at the moment, but hopefully soon of Southern."

The queen takes the moments, spare as they are, between laying eggs to nap. Her eyes drift closed over whirling orbs of dull light, her chest rising and falling with deep, tired breaths. Rnayth stands guard, a bronze fire to warm his mate, his body nuzzled close to hers. He moves of a sudden, quick to depart Tiarnath's side when she snaps open her eyes, twin moons blazing like Belior and Timor. Her body jerks, heaving with the effort of expelling the egg, and diminishing the rounded lumps that extend her golden hide in her abdomen.

Strange, ruddy faces -- knobby, nebulous shapes - patterns, but no designs, of rust and scarlet bleed over the dusty, mottled egg. Sunlight baked into statuesque silt, the red-black hollows of deep and shadowed crevices curve into a finely crafted, unembellished and yet intricate cast that lends a third dimension to the shell canvas. Odd, intriguing, and overwhelming at once, this scarlet shadowed ovoid nestles down into the warming Sands as if it enjoyed the searing, hardening heat baking its fiery-orange base. Craggy, stone-like monuments stretch up over the wide middle and narrower peak that constitute this impressive sphere.

K'laarn is very silent for some time before he peers very closely -- from a distance, at the egg Telinda pointed out. "Is .. is that the first Gold egg Tiarnath has ever laid?" He says disbelievingly, then, "Of course it is." He sounds astonished, "Her third clutch!" He says excitedly, "And your first turn as Weyrwoman, surely this is a good omen." He says with a broad grin splitting his face.

From the Galleries, Kinoa hurries up the stairs, stopping at the end of the galleries to look over the railing towards the sands. Grinning, she turns to those gathered and asks, "How many so far?"

From the Galleries, Joslyn looks over this little girl again (was that a pot calling a kettle black there?), hrming slightly. "Whaddaya do?" She intends waiting for a reply but gets sidetracked as more eggs and Kinoa appear about the same time - from entirely different places, of course. She eyes the former, waving in the general direction of the latter. "A lot. And a gold."

From the Galleries, Kinoa grasps the railing with her hands and leans over it slightly, peering at the mound of eggs on the sands. "A gold?" she repeats curiously, trying to figure out which one it is.

K'laarn then adds, "Rnayth I think, is very proud of himself." And his rider, certainly is.

Telinda giggles, "Well, we can hope, I'd prefer that actions speak larger than omens though, so we'll have to see."

From the Galleries, Daysia shrugs, replying in as good english as she can, "Anything. I've been with some traders so I'm used to work."

The egg laying seems to become a little easier as in a quick succession, Tiarnath displays proudly the rounded curve of another egg, safe and secure on the heated sands of the Hatching Grounds. She nuzzles it with the softest of touches, caressing it with a champagne snout.

In an underwater scene, a bathyscape of colours washes this egg in oceanic blue-greens. Not deep enough to have lost the rainbow shades that makes up a tropical reef, this ovoid sparkles with the glittering sapphire of sunlight touching the water. Fiery-reds tipped with planktonic-white, thoughtful yellow-greens and fan-link sandy-golds, reach upwards from the sea floor, portrayed in such detail that some appear to sway in the gentle ebb and flow of the current. Painted between these branches of coral are the denizens of this place -- darting, tiny fish in hues of brilliant amethyst and marigold -- some swimming freely in the briny fluid, others staying close to the protection of the coral beds.

K'laarn nods curtly at his weyrmate, replying, "Oh, certainly, of course Telinda, but, something like this cannot help but be a good, promising sign." He smiles, undaunted by Telinda's serious mien.

From the Galleries, "There, on that little pile of sand," Joslyn explains, pointing the golden egg out for Kinoa, just in case. "What were you gonna do here at Southern?" she inquires of Daysia, almost absently as she watches the clutching.

From the Galleries, Kinoa whistles softly and calls out, "Nice job, Tiarnath!" though it's highly unlikely the queen is listening to her at the present moment. Pulling off her riding gloves, she slides into a seat near the rest of the Southern riders.

From the Galleries, Daysia blushes, this part of the plan not having been thought through very well, "Dunno. The Traders decided that I was too young and told me to become a resident and stay here til I was older. I'll do anything."

A huge yawn emerges from the golden queen's throat, jaws opening wide to display her sharp teeth. From Rnayth comes a soft rumble, thrumming through the hatching cavern as he stands close to Tiarnath. A grunt closes the gold's mouth quickly as her body stirs from its wallow in the sand to lay an egg within the sandy embrace of the ground.

Shining white, backed by light beige, is the dominant color of this egg. Tiny green figures, reminiscent of trees, are portrayed near the base and seem to be dwarfed by the immensity of the towering apex. Curved around the circumference of the egg are four strongly featured visages, all male, that seem to have been carved from the stony surface that makes up this ovoid. The first from has a high-crowned forehead and beard, its gaze seemingly friendly though no smile is apparent. The second face is rough and definitely masculine in appearance, a bushy mustache over its upper lip. Smooth-shaven and topped with wavy hair, its gaze looking hopeful, best describes the third visage, whilst the fourth and final face has been graced with a firm chin, deep-set eyes, and militaristic features, the hair swept back away from its forehead. Each portrait stares into nothing, but the majesty with which they do it could inspire many people.

From the Galleries, Lily is leaning forward, intent on the sands. "It's such a nice clutch," she exclaims, looking up to smile at Kinoa. Yup, she's pretty much out of the conversation - just lost in looking.

Tiarnath lumbers to her feet, getting off of the ground in a sudden restlessness that seizes upon her. She starts pacing, as if impatient to be done, tail whipping in the sand like the golden train of a dress. She circles the entire cavern, carefully diverting around her precious eggs before she stops, not too far from the gallery, taken by the fervent need to nest. She creates with her foreclaws digging into the sand a tiny hollow, which she moves to cover and rest, body rippling with contracting muscles. When she moves, partially hidden within the hole is the apex of a dewy egg.

An evenly spread fawn color shades this egg's smooth surface, it's plain shell stippled with darker brown spots visible only on close inspection. The vague deep-blue outline of giant wings, opened in a uniformly protective pattern, feather outwards over one side of this ovoid's mottled exterior. A nearly rectangular body, parallel to the long axis of the egg and flaring near the bottom into what might be a multi-fingered tail of sorts, lies between the two wedge-shaped wings. Paler purplish-blue lines lead straight from nose to tail and wing to wing, crisscrossing at precise angles from that one faintly recognizable image, in a parody of ancient roads travelling to some unimaginable destination.

From the Galleries, Daysia stands, taking one last longing look at the eggs before stepping away. She's on a quest to find the headwoman, and she can't dally too long anywhere.

The golden queen arches her neck, and strides purposefully across the sands. Rumbling softly to the two eggs she passes on her way, she stops, as if this spot held something -more- than the others. Wiggling her gold bulk around, Tiarnath takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. When she moves, another egg sits upon the sands.

Perhaps it's a trick of the light, but this egg seems unnaturally large, and certainly it looms over the eggs that surround it. Like a large rock at sunset, its colour near the sands is a pale gold, deepening to a deep bronze, and finally, close to the egg's point, shadowed completely. Striations cover the shell's surface mimicking the surf when the swell is at its highest -- and although the egg is a perfect ovoid shape, this patterning distorts its appearance, making it seem like a huge wave.

From the Galleries, Kinoa watches the girl leave, looking confused. In the pause between eggs, she queries, "Who was that?"

Tiarnath's great golden head turns slowly from side to side, keeping a careful eye out that those who should be staying away are, in fact, doing so. Her outer eyelids close briefly over eyes flaring orange-red, and when they reopen there sits an egg upon the sands.

Telinda smiles at K'laarn, shrugging slightly, "One might hope, yes. But we'll see. We still got to find candidates for all these eggs she seems intent on laying."

Muted browns cloak roughened surface's smooth slope, softly blending away imperfection or flaw. Russet and rose tinge the sandy hues about the bulging-outward middle, whilst yellow and softer greys mist together to shroud the poles in their own steady, opaque hues. Sprigs of green spring brightly into view where least expected, scrubby and strong, reaching ever upwards to a fiery circle of ocherous-red prominently displayed at the crown.

From the Galleries, Joslyn waves her fingers distractedly toward the path employed by the girl in question. "Her name was Day-somethin'. A little Trader girl staying here at the Weyr, or some such."

From the Galleries, Kinoa makes a little hmm-noise, shrugging her shoulders since it doesn't sound all that interesting, and leans forward, resting her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees.

From the Galleries, Joslyn obviously didn't find it terribly fascinating herself, hence the lackluster reply. The goldrider is much, much more interested in the eggs as they appear on the Sands.

K'laarn scowls suddenly, "Candidates." He sighs. "Well, I'm sure we'll find them. " Optimism at its best.

Tiarnath turns her back on the galleries, with a glance towards Rnayth all but ordering him to guard her backside. Her tail twitches several times as she lowers herself to the ground. Her claws dig into the sands briefly, and when she rises another egg awaits the scrutiny of the crowds.

Greens, of many varied shades -- from lime to olive, from emerald to beryl -- and seemingly of a multitude of textures, cover this egg like a grass blanket covering the earth. The jaded hues roll across the lush valley, almost as if this ovoid were a hill, the apex forming the summit. Speckling the surface are verdant-green and wooden-brown shapes, like ancient trees, canopies spread like oaks to brush the canvas with their leaves. Nestled near the top is a figure carved from the very hill itself, down to the bedrock of chalky white deposit -- four legs, a graceful equine neck, and a streaming tail turn the carving into a runner, whilst a solitary patch of malachite remains as the eye.

Queen or not, you can only spend so much time cooing over an egg. Moving quickly to another bare spot on the sands, Tiarnath crouches, rumbles and quickly deposits another package. This one she curls around for a moment, nuzzling it with her snout before letting everyone else have a look.

Spires of terracotta and pinnacles of soft peach reach upward, firmly clasping the sandstone surface of this rather bright egg. Layers of rose and cinnamon range over the delicate fingers, darker shadows fracturing the surface as if eroded by the elements. Canyons of earthy-reds dip down towards the base where their oddly curved inverted runner-shoe shapes eventually disappear. The rosy-pinks and deep ochres spiral around the circumference, reaching to touch the sky-blue apex of the shell, the palest hints of cerulean flickering between the twists of colour.

Telinda chuckles, "Aye, candidates, lets hope they behave themselves. I heard that Remarra had no end of problems with her last set."

Carefully judging the distance between the neighboring eggs, Tiarnath positions herself. Almost meticulous in her self-adjustment, finally she lets out a sigh, then the briefest little trill welcoming the next egg into the world.

Dusky-greys, like hand-hewn rock, forms the base color of this egg, though it's barely visible under the layers of emerald-green that loop and twist across its surface, reminiscent of the vines and giant leaves found in the deepest jungle. Strange figures seem to protrude from the corners of a rough-stepped pyramid, here appearing as a large spotted feline, there seeming to be a strange mixture of tunnelsnake and avian -- a feathered and winged serpent of some sort. Brilliant smudges of scarlet, cobalt-blue and vibrant-yellows flutter between the vines, their shapes as fluid and graceful as any birds. Huge crimson, soft-pink, and ghostly-white blooms are sprinkled here and there among the green, their forms like the delicate flowers of the Southern Boll, Ista, and Southern areas.

Two spots perfect for this next egg, and Tiarnath paces back and forth between them. Unable to make up her mind, she hunkers down between the two, and with a series of staccato breaths, delivers another egg to croon over.

What at first appears to be the rippling blue vastness of the sea soon reveals hidden treasures beneath its surface, the colors lapping over the shell of this egg. Deep emerald-greens and sapphire-blues of the briny expanse gradually dissolve into the greys of stone, which have been chiseled into a variety of patterns. Long, straight streaks with shorter, flatter bands that span them decorate the circumference, but all are distorted into shimmering images by the watery depths. Silhouettes, their forms oddly reminiscent of figures stand frozen in time, slowly being devoured by algae-green that creeps over the marble. Despite the watery depths that these objects have sunk to, they still manage to exude a peaceful, learned atmosphere.

From the Galleries, Shadara chuckles as she looks over the eggs, "So many colors and shapes."

From the Galleries, "Hoe many is that?" Joslyn muses, pointing to the eggs as she counts them off. About halfway through, she gets side-tracked with waving to T'dru, forced to start over - sigh.

From the Galleries, Kinoa seems to be concentrating on counting the exact number of eggs, but it keep changing as Tiarnath roams over the sands. Shaking her head at the rider beside her, she says firmly, "No, that one's gonna hatch green. Definitely."

Proceeding to the first of the two spots she couldn't decide upon -before-, Tiarnath quickly deposits another egg into the hollow made by her foot. A slight shudder is the only sign that it actually happened... well, that and the fact that there's an egg sitting there.

From the Galleries, T'dru makes his way in quietly, helmet and goggles in one hand and still wearing his flight jacket. He nods at Nerian and the others, walking over towards the grouped watchers and finding a seat nearby.

K'laarn nods and says jestingly "Well, they'll obey our rules or I'll know the reason -why-."

As if haunted by memories, smoky images film across the surface of this little egg, engulfing it within a cloud of despair. Darkened buildings, like barracks, arc across the base, while swirls of skeleton-like forms troop through misty memories. The apex of the sphere is cloaked in what looks to be a particularly thick smoke, reminiscent of the chimneys in the kitchen on a busy day, yet, this smog is sinister. Arcing across both top and base are thin shiny tendrils, barbed with some kind of sharp object - like an enclosure, tiny, flesh-pinks smudged with gray trapped within.

From the Galleries, Joslyn moves her cane aside to offer the empty half of her bench to the bronzerider, mutely, as she finally comes up with a current tally. "And how d'you know that, Kinoa?" she asks, leaning back now that she's got her count finished. For the moment.

From the Galleries, Kinoa folds her arms back over her chest and grins smugly. "Cause Luiseth says so," she explains, offering T'dru a winning smile as he enters, and pausing to check out his legs. "Hope you've been practicing, Tan," she says with a giggle.

From the Galleries, Joslyn repeats, "'Cause Luiseth says so." She giggles for punctuation, finding no small amount of humour in Kinoa's logic. She sobers up slightly and adds, "Whatever you say, Kinoa." And rolls her eyes to settle upon the Sands.

Tiarnath turns her swirling violet eyes from the most recent of her achievements and sidesteps carefully to another open space on the sands. The digits on her large golden feet clench slightly as another egg slides from her body and makes its appearance.

The egg is an ovoid of darkness, a deep, penetrating gloom that is not diminished in strength, a pitch blackness that overwhelms and consumes, a pit of emptiness nearly devoid of light. It is a bottomless well with nothing at the nadir but perhaps the moist slap of water against decayed stone, unseen, down in the unreachable depths, echoing naught by silence. No illumination pierces that darkness except for the mirage of liquid wavelets catching the faintest of overhead gleam in mirrored opacity, like a symbol of promise within the womb of the earth.

From the Galleries, Kinoa shrugs, not bothered at all by the weyrwoman's skepticism. "You'd be surprised, Josy, she knows things like that." Pushing her hair back from her forehead, she adds, "Don't ask me how, she just does."

From the Galleries, T'dru gives Joslyn a quiet nod of thanks, folding his frame onto the free space. One brow goes up in Kinoa's direction though he doesn't look at her, keeping his attention fixed on the sands. "That's right. I have been. Running around the lake in full flight gear for half the day now. Be afraid."

From the Galleries, Joslyn, in a humoring and halfway pedantic tone, smiles at Kinoa and says, "Of course she does, dear." Then she wrinkles her nose up slightly, leaning her cane against the end of the bench to cock half an ear at the running-around-the-lake bit. Good thing for a bronzerider to be doing.

From the Galleries, Kinoa scoffs at T'dru's warning, stretching her own rather shapely legs out in front of her. "Just going to tire yourself out," she says cheerfully, eyes rolling at Joslyn's old-auntie condescension. "You want to bet on it?" she asks, surely that will get the goldrider's attention.

Blackened talons dig deeply into the heated sands of the Hatching Grounds. Tiarnath closes her eyes and rumbles to herself quietly for a moment before releasing another egg into the clutch. With a satisfied sigh, she looks over the egg once before moving on.

Deep ocean blue-greys crash over the surface of this egg, as if were the wind-stirred seas of a northern harbour, appearing constantly in motion with the multitude of tiny waves, capped occasionally with the odd smattering of white. Cold sea foam seems to lap at the foot of a rock, a dark marking across one side of the gently curving shell, the waters shallow around it, and consequently more cobalt than slate. Viewed from the right angle, corroded copper drizzles over a blackened bronze silhouette forming the impression of a young woman -- drenched hair tossed over her shoulders, and her legs half curled up. The statue appears solitary, with not even a the wind-filled sails of a passing ship close by, and has an air of regal loneliness, the proud tilt of her chin testament to many of her qualities.

From the Galleries, Oh, if ever there were a way to spark Joslyn's interest, gambling is most certainly the way to do it. "Dunno. Do /you/ want to bet on it?" she asks, a bit too eager to pull off the feigned disinterest at all believably.

From the Galleries, T'dru does notice Kinoa's legs and assesses them once...after all, she is -the enemy-. He also favors Joslyn with an odd look...one of those gee, maybe if she believed that I should get her in a game of dragonpoker.

From the Galleries, Kinoa catches T'dru's look and favors him with another of those bright smiles, crossing one leg over the other. Turning her attention back to Joslyn, she shrugs lightly and says in an unaffected tone, "Sure, I could use the marks."

Nostrils flare and sand stirs as Tiarnath bears down yet again. Her Golden back arches just slightly as the next egg lands softly in the sands. Turning, she pulls the sand close around its base, making a nice cozy sand-nest for it.

Earth meets sky in a blaze of timeworn sandstone, golden-red base pillowing the cerulean blue cap of this fragile egg. Eons of wind and rain have driven their fists against the solid rock base, an inconceivable amount of time passing as those blows alternately pummeled and polished the stone until it became a monument to the efforts of those elementary forces, leaving behind a delicate blaze of earthen color arcing over the egg's curves. A sweeping expanse of celestial blue can be viewed through that ancient portal, a doorway to some of the deepest mysteries.

From the Galleries, Laughing, Joslyn takes a moment just to sober herself before she turns back toward Kinoa. "Oh, okay. Well, what're we betting on, then?" she inquires, looking about as serious as she knows how.

From the Galleries, Kinoa says "Eggs," as though she's already made that perfectly clear. "And what colors are going to hatch out of them." Leaning over the railing a bit, she waves her hand in the air before picking out a lovely purple-green egg. "That one's a bronze."

Tiarnath fusses over an egg, shifting it with a delicate nudge of her pure gold muzzle. After she's satisfied with its new positioning, and then heaping sand against its sides, she withdraws to begin pacing through the sands. Her gait is lop-sided and awkward, belly still swollen with the remaining eggs. She tosses her head, stopping as wings stretch halfway out from her body and flex as she pushes an egg from her body and onto the sand.

Alone on a windswept precipice, stony-grey ruins stand guard against naught but the encroaching battle of the sea -- the slate-blue of the ocean crashing in creamy-frothy waves against the leaden-rocks and sandy-beach at the base of this egg. Shadowy remains of walls once sentinel to more than the sea stand proud and noble against the tracks of time, though struggles have been fought and won resisting the elements. What were once delicate arches and spiraling towers are now just pitiful reminders of glory past, the charcoal and ebony lines all that is left of regal presence.

From the Galleries, T'dru begs to differ with Kinoa on that one. "I think it's a brown." He slides right into the betting here. "And how much are you all wagering?"

From the Galleries, Joslyn can't help herself grinning, looking out over the eggs before she nods. "All right, then. I say that one - " She points out the golden egg in its special little nest. " - is a queen." She glances T'dru's way and adds, "You want in on this?" The more marks for Josy to win the merrier, after all.

From the Galleries, T'dru nods once at Joslyn, "Of course. Where better to lose a few marks?"

With these eggs safely enveloped in the hot sands of the hatching grounds, Tiarnath chooses to rest for a few moments. Her eyes lid shut, but only to the first membrane, as she lounges near her eggs. However, the telling signs of another egg about to be clutched is obvious as the pale belly of the egg-heavy queen shifts with the spasm of muscles. Wearily she lifts her golden head, neck curling so that she can watch as the next egg emerges. She shifts away from it, and starts to slowly push sand around the soft ovoid.

From the Galleries, Kinoa rolls her eyes at Joslyn yet again. "Jays, Joslyn, who'd have guessed that one?" she asks with a grin, then looks at T'dru. "Bet on my side, and you won't lose," she assures him with another smile.

Rich and vibrant hues sing over the smooth, near perfect shell of this ovoid, drawing attention to its strongly defined architecture. Embraced by light, opulent sun-yellows are almost immediately turned into burnished gold, as if they were pure metal, but as the luminary-shades mingle into the darker, aureate tones, so another colour starts to blend alongside. Softly at first, lilac tones trail their fingers about the peak, becoming darker and heavier towards the base, where it concludes in a most regal purple.

From the Galleries, Joslyn cocks her thumb back toward the weyrhall, telling T'dru as she does so, "At that 'poker table, accourse. Me'n you should have a hand or two sometime." If the bronzerider is brave (and foolish) enough. "Hey, you didn't say which eggs we were bettin' on."

Taking time to caress each egg with matronly affection, Tiarnath settles her haunches to the sands gingerly, taking a moment of precious time to rest. She turns whirling eyes on Rnayth in silent but poignant communion. However, her respite is short lived and Tiarnath grudgingly moves to rise once more, pausing halfway to let a contraction finish before she deposits another egg in the hollow made by her hind legs and tail.

Darker than the blackest night, this egg's smooth shell is like a mysterious underground cavern -- until light shines upon it. Once revealed, myriad images in black, brown, red, and yellow pigments seem to leap to life from its roughly hewn, stony coloured surface. Bovines, runnerbeasts, antlered creatures, huge shaggy animals, and even the figures of men seem to have been painted in extreme detail by an almost childlike hand. All are depicted going about the business of life -- grazing, hunting, and even dancing, and one would almost expect the figures to actually move across the shell, so finely detailed are the drawings. Lattice-like engravings are also present, crisscrossing the bare areas between the figures.

From the Galleries, Kinoa shrugs again, looking over the expanse of sands and the growing mound of eggs. "You can pick which ones, it doesn't matter to me," smiling at Joslyn. She already knows everything, you see.

From the Galleries, Shadara sighs softly as she watches the eggs, not really listening to the conversation.

From the Galleries, T'dru gives Joslyn a slanting look. "You're on for dragonpoker." His eyes get that distant glazed appearance before zeroing on Kinoa. "If I'm on your side and you don't guess as many right as Joslyn, are you going to make up the difference in the amount of marks I lose taking your side over my own best guesses?"

From the Galleries, Kinoa reaches out and pats T'dru encouragingly on the arm, and she can't help but give it a little squeeze. "Oh, of course," she says with a confident smile. "But that's not what's going to happen." More smug smiles.

Tiarnath busies herself with a bit of preening now that she has time to relax again. She cleans her foreclaws neatly, tail flickering out to curl demurely around her legs while wings extend, stretching out in the closed confines of the hatching grounds. While this innocent pastime absorbs the queen, her champagne belly begins to move, muscles rippling in a telltale pattern of a body's effort to lay an egg. She hisses in agony, sound turning to a rumbling growl as she lays a new egg into secured place within sand's grasp.

There's a rich, furtive aura to this wavy, wetland sphere -- tips of green reaching up through the watery-thick texture that appears to envelope this smaller than average egg. Swamp-like and muddy, this mottled orb seems dangerously close to melting onto and oozing into the sands upon which it perches, its fluid appearance easily distinguished from the grainy blanket that curls about the liquid base. Tinted paler than the earthy brows should allow for, it hints at murky water and current-bent reeds kissed by the silver moonlight of a humid, swampy evening.

From the Galleries, Joslyn rolls her eyes, uttering a scoffed sound as she looks over the clutch. Any marks she loses in this egg-guessing bit will just have to be made up winning dragonpoker hands. "We ain't gonna bet on all of 'em, are we?"

From the Galleries, Kinoa says "No," looking over the clutch with a calculating smile. "We're not betting on the gold one, that's for sure."

From the Galleries, T'dru leans towards Kinoa and whispers something at her before straightening and answering Joslyn, while apparently trying to count eggs. "Uhmm...why can't we bet on all of them?"

Tiarnath, certainly tired by now, accidentally shoves too much sand over the last egg, obscuring it completely. Rnayth rumbles understandably, and patiently scrapes off the sand as Tiarnath settles down to lay another egg, one careful eye kept on the tiring gold.

Dark, moss-greens, with the occasional patch of brown, curl around this egg, seeming to form a lush carpet of grass, interspersed with hints of yellow-gorse and purple-heather. Twisting upwards, wrapping like a tendril around the circumference, is what appears at first glance to be a ridge that traverses the expanse of the ovoid from base to the very top, dividing it into two, rather uneven, halves. It is almost as though it was decided the two sides should never meet, that there should be no consolidation of the two highland meadow bands. When the light glimmers and hits only one side, shadow sends the other half into darkness, and somehow, the picture portrayed here seems incomplete. It is only in strong, bright daylight, that wholeness can be observed, a joining, even if it seems contrived.

From the Galleries, Swinging her feet while she considers, Joslyn adds the newest eggs to her mental tally and hrms. "Shall we bet on say four or five of 'em that we all agree on?" Jeuneth can always get the scoop on the 'fuzzy' ones, after all.

From the Galleries, Kinoa's smile threatens to turn into a pout at T'dru's whispered comment, but she forces herself to retract the hand, though her fingertips do trail lightly along the length of his arm before she does so. "That's what you think," she murmurs to him, smiling still, then nods at Joslyn. "That sounds fair."

Rnayth extends his neck towards Tiarnath as she nuzzles him against him momentarily. He rumbles his approval in answer to her warble of inquiry, then his wings flare back, stretching before resting against his sides. His gaze shifts from Tiarnath for a moment toward those people watching. He seems to grow bigger, loomingly so and growls deeply. He's the guard today. Tiarnath golden neck stretches out, as her belly undulates with waves of motion, all bearing down and pressing out another egg. With a warble she stands to shovel more sand around this newest addition.

Misty blue and pale purple dapples this egg in brush-like strokes, a masterful watercolor painting of mountainous crags reaching up to meet a hazy sky with grasping fingers. Towards the rounded middle, a glimmering band of slate-blue rides the pastel surface in a mysterious arc, its depths holding secrets of ages past that only time and thoughtful exploration can reveal. Sketchy white streaks, limned in dark grey, soar upwards along the ovoid's smooth curves meeting at one end in downward vee's, reminiscent of miniature roofs atop the building stones of some fantastic hold viewed from a distant place. Surrounding those pearly columns, mottlings of autumnal browns, reds and pale yellows create an illusion of a frame cradling the half-seen structure in fall's flaming foliage.

From the Galleries, Joslyn quirks a brow at touchy-feely Kinoa, but she doesn't comment and she doesn't ask. Someone will tell her eventually, after all, or she'll pry it out of them later. "Allright, then. I say we wait a few days so we can be sure that's all of 'em and /then/ decide. Deal?" Pause. "And how much're we betting?"

From the Galleries, T'dru eyerolls at Kinoa, a brief grin starting up but he leaves her and Joslyn to figure out the dynamics of this betting thing, really trying now to count the eggs...again.

With a soft, fatherly wuffle, Rnayth lowers his muzzle to the ground, breathing softly over the soft, glistening shell of Tiarnath's latest egg. As his shadow slides over it, he turns his head to observe with one great, whirling eye the still egg as if inspecting it for any imperfections. Not a moment later he settles back and slides his gaze to the straining gold, doling out a proud snort at her accomplishments. Tiarnath however, is not mollified by his pride if her growl of irritation is any indication. Her claws rake the sand, body arching up off the sand after laying an egg, quickly turning to care for it. Tiarnath's croon of reassurance is for her rider, the Weyrwoman stepping forth to exclaim with pride equal to that of any dragon over this newest treasure.

Circling around the apex of this egg is a long splash of cerulean-blue, dotted here and there with puffy-white clouds, while at the base, lush greens arc over the shell's curves reminiscent of a grassy knoll -- the brilliant azure of the sky shining luminously over a grassy expanse. A flicker of brown dances across the top of the ovoid, looking like a gangly dragon -- wide wings and tail splayed out so awkwardly that it appears almost wooden. On closer inspection, the dragon possesses four wings, each pair seemingly attached to the other with diminutive silvery lines, and on it's back lies the tiny form of a man, not strapped in, but lying flat out along where the dragon's neckridges should have been.

From the Galleries, Kinoa is laughing as she nods. "Deal," she says, holding out her hand to seal the bargain. "Oh, I don't know, two marks per egg?" she suggests nonchalantly.

From the Galleries, Nerian says "two whole marks? I'm lucky to see a quarter mark."

From the Galleries, T'dru catches that and looks at Kinoa as if she's grown a second head. "Are you in need of a visit to the Mind Healers, ma'em?"

From the Galleries, Joslyn blanches, noticeably, the stingy - no, frugal - goldrider aghast at the amount Kinoa's talking about here. "Where'm I gonna get those kinda marks?" she asks, nodnodding at T'dru's question - yeah, what he said.

From the Galleries, Kinoa's suggestion is obviously indicative of how confident she is that she'll win. The corners of her mouth twitch as she watches their reactions. "Well, if you don't think you can handle it," she says, letting her voice trail off sadly. "How about we each bet a mark, total?" She smiles sweetly at Joslyn. "Can you afford /that/?"

The eggs that have been lain so far lay gathered together, some still glistening, others covered in warm, dry sand. Over them all, Tiarnath hovers, an obsessed mother caring for her eggs. She stirs from her patient position of golden guard and proceeds to lay an egg which Rnayth curiously prods at with his snout once its resting, steaming from its birth on the sand.

From the Galleries, Joslyn scrubs at her face, rubbing it with her palms before she pinches the bridge of her nose, looking around her fingers at Kinoa. "D'you know how many hands of poker I can play with a single mark?" But she sighs, and then nodsnods, "But I guess that's okay."

Beautiful rosy-reds, serene sandstone-yellows and tranquil terracotta-oranges sculpt and form the shell of this egg. Near the base of the egg, the colors merge and harmonize successively with each other so that no deviation is noted, but gradually, as the colors move towards the circumference of this ovoid, they are eroded to form a deep gorge that cuts through in wide swathes of umber and ochre. Towers of weathered rock point fingers at the sky as it circumscribes the apex in brilliant blues with ethereal traces of clouds, looking as if they were brushed onto the surface. Deep verdant-greens and mahogany-browns border the ridges, like trees establishing their presence some even extending tiny black root-lines into the canyon walls.

From the Galleries, Nerian says "nope. I definitely can't. I'm lucky when I have a half mark."

From the Galleries, Kinoa shrugs, murmuring something about high stakes making things more exciting.

From the Galleries, T'dru nods abstractedly. "I'm in on that too. The one who guesses the most wins?"

From the Galleries, Joslyn looks over at Kinoa in a very measuring fashion, brows knit and frown thoughtful for a few seconds. "I think you should have odds, Kinoa. You should have t'toss in at least a mark and half for mine and T'dru's mark. You've got the egg-sensitive dragon, after all." Opportunistic? Josy?