Everything's... Perfect? (Kayeth Clutches)
Who C'rus, Doktah, Ibreily, Inri, K'vir, Nyalle, Rulayn, Th'ero, Tiye Zhirayr
What It's a beautiful spring afternoon and Kayeth goes to lay her eggs. Everything goes off without a hitch, which is probably a *first* in Fort Weyr
When Spring, Turn 2711
Where Gallery, Sands, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Galleries
The galleries are carved right out of the rock face, the rows and rows of benches rising high up into the air on a slight slant. Stone and wood benches that used to be known for offering little in the way of comfort, are now padded with cushions in Fort Weyr's colors. Placed along the railing at regular intervals are antique looking baskets filled with cheery fabric flowers. The curving walls sport tapestries in warm vibrant colors that seem to add a dash of color to the otherwise dreary stone. Where the galleries curve slightly at the ends, affording those attending hatchings or clutchings a decent view of the sands, shaded laterns offer warm lighting along the rows of benches.


It's actually a nice day! Beautiful, in fact. Warm, with that first blush of spring. There's still mud everywhere, and snow in the shade spots, but that's Fort. It's SPRING and the weyr is alive. Into this, Kayeth heaves herself from her ledge, dropping heavily to the ground and waddling into the caverns, pawing at the Sands in preparation. Nyalle enters not far behind her queen, looking surprised at the timing. The /good/ timing, for once. No storms, no middle of the night…this is pleasant. Convenient. Something must be wrong.

Velokraeth has been hovering close to Kayeth the last few days and the moment the gold drops from her ledge, the bronze is right behind her, his ungainly, waddling gait looking all the clumsier in her wake. It's a wonder a bronze stunted like him has succeeded in siring so many clutches but… there you have it. He whuffles low to the gold, waiting on the sidelines. Th'ero will arrive later, his stride unhurried as he walks out onto the Sands and right up to Nyalle. Just… ignore the mud on his boots. "Time then, is it, Weyrwoman?" he greets her formally, if not a little tensely.

Kayeth begins pawing at the sand, moving this way and that as she searches for the perfect spot. She wuffles to Velokraeth, but is mostly focused on the sands. Naylle fidgets with her hands, almost wringing them, until Th'ero provides a welcome distraction. Eyes go first to his boots with a frown, and then up to his face with a strained smile. "Yes." Duh?

Inri's a bit nervous as she walks up into the galleries at the beginning of the flow of people, Kouzevelth having quickly tipped her off as the golds are all relatively close. She's chewing her lip with discomfit as she — in her swingy-skirted dress, appropriate for the I-hope-it's-celebratory occasion — settles in a front seat and pulls out her notebook, ready to do her actual job in the wake of all the sudden (pleasant!) ominousness.

And not far behind Inri is Tiye, but she doesn't look as well-coordinated at all: no outfit set up for a clutching affair for her, she's in a cutoff shirt, britches, ONE muddy boot and a flip-flop. The other less-muddy boot is still in her hand, but she isn't paying attention to how odd she looks as she skids into a seat and leans forward, attention on the dragons. On the dragon, since it's been determined by now that Velokraeth's genes aren't wonky no matter how he looks, so he's less of a concern.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Commemoration of Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once upon a time, in its earliest gestation, this egg was probably just black. The multicolored bursts on it appear to have been added on more than anything else, rising slightly above the surface with a bumpy, oil-painty sort of texture. The ridges are a swath of bright, eye-catching colors: cerulean and peacock, magenta, an eye-popping green and even some white in swoops and curves and shapes that even look like little flowers. It's slightly wider on the top, with an inward ridge near its center, and seems to lie more effectively on its side the long way than with its point on the top even with that being counterintuitive to the up-down of the ornate patterning.
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"Will you two slow down!" K'vir's exasperated voice can be heard as he tries to keep up to his two younger siblings; brother and sister both. "You know they'll flay me *alive* if you get into trouble!" He manages to grab a hold of Elladyr's arm, stalling him from leaping over one seat, glaring at Aranthi to keep his sister from doing anything stupid. "Please, you two. Just… sit? Normally?" Not too much to ask, right?

The queen wuffles proudly over her first laid egg, nudging it ever so gently into the perfect spot. She doesn't cover it with sand - not quiet yet. Her faceted eyes look up to the galleries and she issues an echoing, trumpeting call. HEY. Look down here and be amazed.

Rulayn comes skedaddling into the galleries as soon as the commotion has spread around the caverns and by the time she's picked a spot to sit (conveniently close to K'vir, ha!) it's already too late and she's missed the first egg being laid. Typical! A green firelizard which looks a lot like a plant with its huge face, and beady gaze, flits into the area after a quick between jump. It chuffs, waddling through the galleries. Rulayn might recognize it as the one that brought her a letter recently. It moves to butt right into her leg. Flower makes a small happy chirping noise while she settles to watch.

Nyalle winces at her queen's call, but she ends up smiling, tolerantly, as Kayeth prepares to lay another egg a short distance from the first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wrappers EVERYWHERE Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A chaos of colors and glistening hues envelops this egg, but not in a single layer. Instead of a neatly wrapped package, this egg's shell seems to be made up of many other wrappings, crumpled, torn and discarded. Colors clash against each other in garish combinations of red, orange, brown, green, purple, yellow, and black. Borders are frayed in some places and sharply divided in others as the colors meet in indistinguishable patterns. It hurts the eyes and yet seems oddly satisfying. Or it'll give you a tummy ache. Take your pick.
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"Good work, Kayeth!" Inri calls down from her right-at-the-edge spot (where she is forever going to be as long as it isn't her clutch, no slight thanks to Lianri and Taimri Turns ago), though she's not all that sure the dragon can hear her. She's fairly sure that Kouzevelth will pass along the salutations, and more of her own, from up where she perches. Bugling and chittering. Because what everyone's ears needed was an affectionate echo gold to accompany loud gold.

Th'ero isn't so cold as to ignore Nyalle's stress; but he'll ignore her disapproval about his muddied boots. He can't control the weather. "You'll see, it'll be fine." he murmurs. Everyone ignore the slight upturn look of his head towards the high cavernous walls of the sands.

Nyalle follows Th'ero's gaze upwards, and then with a soft gasp she reaches out and actually *hits* him on the arm. "Stop that!" she hisses. Kayeth continues, unconcerned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ AGHGETITOFF Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stretched and strained over an eerie agitation of blazing greens and ghostly shadows are vivid threads of improbable light. Maybe not so much light, though, as a pearlescent absence of the sickly palette beneath, bright against its darkness. The pale filaments swarm together, coiling into a tangle of knots, before crawling their way across the surface of the egg, twisting into the next swarm with a glow of spectral affliction threatening to taint that perfect white.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Firelight Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black, blacker, blackest… this egg is striking both in simplicity and contrast. Most of the smooth shell is a depthless shade of pure black, except for where it’s not. Stark, clear-cut lines carve into that darkness, lit from beneath with hues of yellow and orange like the flickering of flame. Shapes take form, some dulled as though just cut from the surface to allow minimal light through, while others provide clear glimpses within. All come together in a creative illusion of… something. Is that an eye, perhaps? Or a grinning mouth of some fantastical beast?
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Pardon Tiye's irritating cheer even despite her … interesting arrival with the mismatched shoes, she's calling over her shoulder at Rulayn, "It's the black based patterny one that was first," in case the trainee actually is concerned with the order. "I think you saw the, um, what should we call that one. Unfortunate rainbow?"

Kayeth eyes the galleries again. Paying attention? Good, because there's more!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Favored Familiar Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What is it with some of the eggs and being so dark? This egg is shrouded in blackness too and from a distance, looks wholly unbroken. Closer inspection will show just a minute variation in the shade — some lighting brings forth a deep, rich brown color and from another angle, blue-black highlights dance across the smooth surface of the shell. Or is it smooth? Because it certainly looks like this egg is made of fur — soft, velvety and plush fur, all coiled in on itself. It could be a trick of the eye too, but maybe, just maybe, there’s the teeniest sliver of yellow-green tucked away in there, as though it's watching you with an indifferent air.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Last-Second Tiger Costume Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is an overarching thematic note to this egg’s mis-matched shell, at least: stripes. Black stripes, haphazard in their placement, over patches of — white, mostly, intermittently intermingled with uneven shades of orange. In one quadrant, the color shifts to — interestingly near-metallic gold, over eye-searing pink as near to florescent as Pern can possibly come — in nature, at least. The quality of the stripes over-solids varies: here, professionally perfect; there, an amateur hand at finger-done face paint at best.
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Doktah is here! She wouldn't miss a spectacle like this. She's easy to miss, though. She's off somewhere near the back, busily writing little notes in one of her books between glances at the sands.

C'rus is also here. He came back to Fort just last evening and it seems that his first day back is filled with big events like this!

Ibreily is. Well. Was asleep. People have piled in around her, but familiar harrangueing further down in the stands is what sends the Harper bolting upright from her slumped-over perch high in the stands.

Inri, similarly, is doing that — writing. Her glasses are slipping down her nose, and the way the eggs are coming has her having to write fast to keep up. "Mm," she says to no one in particular, "I hate to say 'slow down' at times like this but it's hard to keep up and I need just enough pertinent details to be able to track the order." She could make detailed appearance notes later, but the order is just important enough that she can't play guesses at it.

//Did… Nyalle just hit his arm? Th'ero almost laughs. Almost. She'll get the barest of smiles (or is it a grimace?) and then he mutters, "It's habit." A very recent one. Luckily they'll all be preoccupied soon enough. "She looks to be working towards her usual number. Interesting hues?" So very normal. TOO normal. It has the Weyrleader uneasy but he's keeping it hidden away. Velokraeth, meanwhile, is smugly lingering along the sides of the sands, only approaching when Kayeth beckons or asks of him. Otherwise? Smug smug, proud bronze. Just wait until they Hatch! He's a million times worse.

Nyalle frowns at Th'ero with a little huff, turning back to watch Kayeth as the queen settles for two more eggs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Amok! Amok Amok Amok Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Red. Black. Yellow so light as to be almost golden. Three shades, coexisting in knotted swirls across the apex of this rotund egg. A flash of green beside the red, a whisper of crimson alongside the black, pink and purple partnered with the yellow provide the only highlights on this shell before it slips into a broodingly dark brown. Like leather, only more sinister, the brown is criss-crossed with ragged lines that are marked with what could be mistaken for stitches holding pieces of the shell together, if it wasn't impossible to have such things on an egg. And if that weren't creepy enough, there's one spot that's… well. Eggs can't have an //eye, can they? So it can't be that. Surely not. No, no, no. It's just a splodge that looks like it's watching you. Watching it. Watching you. You'd best look away. Do it now.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Not Your Typical Jack-O-Egg ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rounded bottom of this squat egg is purple, while the blunt apex is a creamy off-white, with the two colours meeting somewhere in the middle in an organic clash that splits this egg into uneven halves. It's not the bold colours that are this egg's most striking feature though - it's the fact that it looks like it has a face. A rough-hewn, carved face, with eyes like isosceles triangles, a snub attempt at an equilateral nose, and a gruesome grimace of a mouth filled with uneven teeth. Said features are brighter than the rest of the egg, as if lit from within by candlelight's warm glow. A dark line hangs like limp string from between what would be this egg's ears, if it did indeed have a face… perhaps a convenient handle for toting it around.
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With a satisfied croon, Kayeth begins to nose sand over her clutch, covering the eggs from view. "Eight," Nyalle says with a proud smile. "Eight eggs…a good number."

Doktah makes one more note in her journal before closing it. "Twice what he was hoping for." She murmurs, apparently to herself. "The Weyrlingmasters will be busy."

Rulayn glances to Flower as the little green firelizard settles in, and gently pets the sweet little thing. She watches the Sands intently though until it's over, then rubs her chin with a frown. "I guess books aren't always right." She speaks aloud. Flower makes a little sound, not too much unlike a hissy purr, then she nuzzles to Rulayn's pets. There is a small letter that is attached to its leg. Something simple it seems, that the woman could easily reach for, as the firelizard watches the hatching with a reverant nature. If firelizards could kneel, she would be.

"A very good number," Th'ero agrees and, once it's apparent that Kayeth has settled and that they are no longer needed to hover, he'll gently touch his hand to Nyalle's arm. "We should go. They'll be expecting us." Surely he's talking about the gathering about to happen, right? The usual after-clutching party of sorts for those not needing to immediately hurry back to their work? Who knows, only that they'll both be delayed in their arrival.

Rulayn waits until the eggs are buried from sight before yawning and rising out of her seat. Well, that's that over with! She scoops Flower up in her hands and carries the little firelizard off with her to read the note in private before attending any noteable celebrations.

Zhirayr has been here the whole time, of course, or at least that's what he'll say — in actual fact he was one of the later arrivals, having been getting everything ready in the living caverns for the afterparty, but his habitual all-black garb makes it easy to blend in in the shadows. "Anyone waiting for your cue, this is the point where the food's going to be served," he calls in the galleries, before ducking out and going back to work. But hey, some of those eggs were awfully pretty, weren't they?


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