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The hatching feast was a slightly odd affair for several reasons.

The first reason for this was simply the nature of the clutch, or rather clutches; it was not often that a gold and a crimson laid at the same time, not often that crimsons laid at all come to that. This portion of the oddity was the only one that was a cause for celebration, amongst the folk of Trine in any case. Another of the reasons was merely awkward; three cultures had been forced together cheek by jowl and though Malvren and Trine's were not so very disparate from one another and had long been allies they still had their differences. The real difference of course came from Benden; many refugee riders from the old Weyr still did not approve of the atypicals, or runts as they called them, and that their own gold had been forced to bring one into the world was a cause for some tension.

The final reason however put something of a damper on the mood; the young gold was not present. Her whereabouts were still being investigated and fearful murmurs ran through the Weyr that it had been killed or the theft had been a ruse to steal the queen the entire time. The return of the other hatchlings was a cause for celebration and relief, however, but could not erase the fact that the Revolution had managed at least a partial victory.

Regardless of the tensions and the hatchlings who had not returned however the overall mood was positive; the celebrations might be a dampened but there were not extinguished. Every egg had hatched, every dragon had found its rider, and there had been no casualties or major injuries amongst the candidates.

Abigail presided over the feast with a slightly hazy smile upon her face, observing the procedings with amusement. The stories that would be spun from these hatchlings would be told for years to come and she was pleased that their decision to send Candidates with the search parties had been an appropriate one. Occasionally she would lean over to converse with the wing leaders, assessing the newest crop of riders and what it would mean for the Weyr. Most of formalities of the evening, however, would be conducted by the pair of clutch mothers, including the awarding of Weyrling Knots, welcoming speeches, and a general Meet and Greet to mingle with the new riders. Abigail was enjoying the opportunity to take part in the festivities for once.

The feast was to be held outdoors near the center of Trine's grounds the sun was beginning to set, and the fat orange orb of fire hunkering near the horizon cast a beautiful light on the long tables of food and drink laid out for the celebrations. As the new riders approached the smell of cooking meat and other good food would reach their nostrils; times might still be hard at Trine but it was clear that no expense had been spared today.

A special table for the Weyrlings, clutch mothers and the Weyrlingmaster and his assistants had been set aside. The two clutchmothers stood before it, ready to hand rank knots to the Weyrlings belonging to their respective clutches. When the group of Weyrlings arrived, led by assistant candidatemaster Mercy, a signal was given for silence and the riders and Weyrfolk already seated at the other tables rose in a gesture of respect to the newest generation of Pern's ancient defenders.

Eiran was normally a cheerful, reasonably outgoing fellow. But things were changing so quickly now that he found himself adrift and unsure, which certainly put a damper on his mood. The last three days at the caves had been blissful. He and Laeonaith had sunned and eaten and explored and gotten to know one another. It was undoubtedly love between the two of them, love unlike anything Eiran had ever known. He'd thought his foster family of cooks and bakers and kitchen drudges had taught him what love and acceptance was, but that was nothing compared to the heart-swelling, ecstatic joy he felt everytime he gazed upon the gorgeous metallic hide of his new lifemate.

But despite the lazy comfort of the last three days, Eiran hadn't bothered to consider the future. To think about what would happen when they got back to the weyr. This change... it was permanent and he was already seeing the repercussions. Upon arriving at the weyr he had wanted to immediately take Laeonaith to the kitchens and make introductions, but he had been trapped by a crowd of people who wanted to be the first to congratulate him. He hadn't known, but with the queen egg still missing Laeonaith was the only metallic born to either clutch. And metallics, especially bronzes and golds, were highly valued. It had felt like ages before the pair had managed to slip away, though Laeonaith's clumsiness had actually proved to be a blessing in disguise. Wingtips and tail had mildly injured a number of people, particularly in the stomach and groin areas, which had allowed them to eventually beat a hasty retreat as admirers realized that the newborn bronze was actually rather gawky and ungainly.

Had been Laeonaith's flippan response as they had finally made their way to the kitchens.

Things had been different there, too. At least in the beginning. They had all treated him with so much respect and deference, it had taken a lot of convincing that he was still the same Eiran he had always been, there was just a new addition to his life. But they hadn't been able to linger long, things were hectic with preparing for the feast, and Laeonaith's wings kept bumping into pots and pans and platters, spilling things here and there and resulting in a firm scolding and expulsion from the kitchen.

Laeonaith said, unconcerned as they trotted towards the group of weyrlings who were waiting to be presented. The dragon was prancing with his head held high, because he had stolen a ladle from the kitchen. He was proudly carrying it in his mouth and looked for all the world like a huge, smug, ungainly puppy. Eiran grinned, feeling a little better. They reached the tail end of the group, Laeonaith dancing in circles around his rider. He asked Eiran, referring to the ladle. As he was dancing, totally unaware of the personal space of others, his tail accidentally whapped Girofleth who was standing nearby with her nervous looking rider.

"Sorry" Eiran said, the apology automatic on his lips. "He's a little...enthusiastic."

Asked the totally unrepentant bronze. This, apparently, was all it took to make Laeonaith happy.

As a boy, F’en had often wondered if it might be odd to share headspace with another. Your thoughts weren’t your own- not entirely, at any rate. It was both a thrilling and frightening prospect, one he had thought about long and hard prior to the hatching.

After these past three days, he could not fathom life without it.

Tiakimerth was utterly perfect. He filled F’en’s head with songs, and poems, and all sorts of lovely comments. They’d spent far too long out lazing, simply enjoying the warmth of the sun. F’en liked to think he’d have headed in sooner, had it not been for Tiakimerth’s lovely poem on the subject. Instead, he’d laughed and rolled over, simply relishing the time with his new companion.

Having someone in his head wasn’t a terrible change at all.

No, the real challenge was coming from how everyone looked at him. He wasn’t just Feden, some weyr-brat now. He was F’en, (someday) rider of Tiakimerth. And what a lovely blue he had! Of a good size, and an even temper. The congratulating people were everywhere, and it made F’en wish to shrink back and hide. But Tiakimerth would have none of it. The dragon crooned and hummed, willing him to go and speak with some of them.

“Easier said than done,” F’en had mumbled, eventually managing to slink away from prying eyes. Tiakimerth had brushed by his leg, offering him a reassuring hum.

F’en had simply sighed with a smile, and assured the blue he would do so. The Hatching Feast… that would be a good opportunity for it.

Now that they were on their way, however, F’en wasn’t so certain. His stomach turned with unease, even as Tiakimerth pressed reassuringly against him. They were in this together, he knew- and the dragon wouldn’t press him into anything he wasn’t comfortable with. But what if they thought he was a deadglow farmer, and questioned why he’d Impressed at all?

Tiakimerth had snapped, eyes going orange for a moment. F’en had swallowed uneasily, running his hand across Tiakimerth’s neck.

“ ‘m just worried. Not about you, you know. ‘Bout me.” And it was true. He wasn’t exactly the most charming weyrling of the batch.

the blue had crooned, instantly shifting to a more content mood. F’en offered him a weak smile as they made their way out to the feasting ground, trying to walk tall and confident.

“Maybe they won’t even speak to me,” F’en whispered to his dragon. Tiakimerth responded with a jovial sound, and started to look around. There had to be someone calm and collected to push His at… someone who would not scare the boy off. Maybe he’d give it a moment to sort it all out, see if anyone came to speak to them.



Or ignore me, F'en thought with some amusement as he took his seat. That would be simply wonderful.

It was a good thing the young bronze tail-thwapped Girofleth, and not her rider - the little green was barely phased, while Hers would likely have jumped straight up. Girofleth simply sidestepped away from any further possible thwumps and turned to regard her brother with blue eyes. Yes, this bronze was one of her brothers. Not quite enough time had passed yet for her to have forgotten her siblings, though they had hatched apart. Laeonaith, she acknowledged pleasantly. What is that in your mouth?

Say hello, Mine, she then encouraged Iafri.

"'lo," the girl offered hesitantly, eyes on the other Weyrling's feet rather than his face.

It is interesting, Girofleth decided with tilted head. If it makes you happy, that is good.

"Yes," Iafri agreed quietly, gaze flicking up just long enough to note the boy's features and smile before dropping again. Overwhelming, yes. If only he knew just how much! Not that she was inclined to launch into an explanation of it.

She is...shy, yes. I hope Yours will not take offense. This has been difficult for her, but she will learn in time. She turned her head to see what Laeonaith had been distracted by, but there were so many things that it was impossible to pinpoint, so she asked for clarification. Those? What those? I see lots of things.

Girofleth nosed at her chosen. You see? Hello is not so hard, but you must introduce yourself as well. And me, please.

The young rider glanced at her dragon and chewed on her lip, but soon did as she was told. "'m Iafri, and th-this is Girofleth."

When the new arrival sat next to F'en, he jumped slightly, not having expected anyone to sit with him. Not certain of what to say, he smiled uneasily. 

Tiakimerth rumbled affectionately, brushing against his rider's leg. F'en turned back to the other, and nodded.

"I- I was from Malvren, once. Got relocated here. Glad I am." And it was true. While most things simply made the large boy uneasy, the revolution infuriated him. Pity the revolutionary who spoke to F'en, for they might be on the receiving end of a punch from him. He wasn't violent, but shards- he couldn't stand their tactics. Anyone who was fool enough to steal eggs and risk the dragons inside deserved a blow to the gut.

"I, um." F'en cleared his throat, as though he were trying to steer himself away from his own thoughts. "I don't think Benden will cause trouble. We were nice enough to let them in, yeah? And they. They don't have room to talk on other dragons," He continued awkwardly, feeling less certain of himself as he spoke.

"If they do say anything rude to you, you can offer to introduce them to my fist." F'en offered, then flushed immediately after.

"I. I mean. Wait. That wasn't the best thing to say." 

Tiakimerth gave an amused little sound at F'en, something like a laugh, were dragons capable. At his addressal, he turned to the black, and blinked.

Tiakimerth crooned out loud at this, resting his head in F'en's lap. Absentmindedly, he stroked the blue's head, too embarrassed to continue the conversation on further. 

Tiakimerth commented, rather pleased with his description of F'en. It was apt! The boy was so, so silly, not seeing how much joy he could bring to others.

The dragon paused here, as if in thought, then butted his head against F'en's stomach lightly.

He chided, and F'en mumbled.

" 'm F'en."



"I- my name is F'en. Tiakimerth is my dragon, a-and it's nice to meet you."

Tiakimerth told him, pleased. He cocked his head as he considered the other dragon.

The little dragon shifted a bit, and let out a musical trill.

Iafri flinched a bit when Laeonaith whacked his rider in the head. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about the reach of her own dragon's wings - they might have been large for her small size, but not enough that the green could thwack her in the head. Not that she would; Girofleth was much too conscious and graceful to do something like that.

She said nothing about it, though, and shook her head when Eiran asked her a question, only to have Girofleth remind her Words, Mine. "No." Further insistence from her dragon, and she elaborated haltingly, "Th-there was a boy, but I th-think he l-left."

He is very dark, the green then agreed with her clutchmate, looking back to where the black and blue stood at Laeonaith's prompting. And, since they were making observations, she added, But Tiakimerth is our brother, and he has spots, like I do. More of them, though.

Phiroth complained to her rider. In the short time they had been together, Ahmenna and Phiroth had become as thick as a swarm of biting flies. Settling into a routine enforced by Ahmenna, Phiroth had her own opinion about everything.

"We have to go, it's Tradition. And we are supposed to be social. Plus Khar will be there and you can finally meet him. He is your cousin. Family. Just not in dragon form." Ahmenna refused to wear a dress. Instead, the 5'9" girl put on a soft pair of black wherhide pants, her favorite blue boots and as a concession to the event, a white loose tunic with blue embroidery that resembled waves. And her trademark dragon goggles. Phiroth had snorted, something she was getting rather good at, but Ahmenna had held firm. And now, they sat atop her auburn hair with style. Wiping her hands on her pants, she looked down at the green. "Ready?"

The green got to her feet and moved closer to her rider.

"I agree. We don't know these folks and where they've come from... No need to search out strangers." And with that, they headed towards the feast. Ahmenna entered with Phiroth on her right side, both heads held high and looking over everyone with a careful eye. Moving towards an empty table, she saw several riders gathered around and talking with each other. A black, some greens, a bronze? A blue. Not a large crowd yet but that could change. "What do you think?"