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After the initial savagery, things seemed to be calming a little. L'thor relaxed slightly and actually took in the new pairs. That latest blue to Impress had to be the largest of his kind he'd ever seen! All of the new dragons had such bright, handsome colours too; they were nothing on his Raith, but all very beautiful all the same. Even the bronze that had come out was good looking so far as the big dragons went, lovely subtle colours. He was disappointed by the lack of greens so far; only one of the little beauties had thus far decided to poke her head out of her shell. Chances were though that plenty of them would be coming along yet, he hoped that one of them chose Veyes. A blue would be wonderful too of course , or even a brown, but greens were the best.

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So many Impressions! C'mor grinned as he felt Naedreth greet each new arrival. He could see there being issues with this clutch, with the first brown and the queen in particular, but it was hard to think about that just now. Now that the mauling seemed to have stopped, at least, for now, there was time to just take pleasure in watching the new dragons and riders wobble to the edge of the sands and begin to feed. He remembered Naedreth's first hunger well, such a startling intensity of want and need, it had been overwhelming.

"I look forward to knowing all of the new hatchlings," Naedreth put in. "They all look very healthy. None of them and none of Theirs are as good as we, but then nobody is... I am sure we shall be great friends with some of them Mine, we shall help them with anything they need to know; that is the duty of the best, to care for the rest."

Well, something like that. He certainly had some advice he could share with the new weyrlings, little things that you didn't necessarily get told in lessons, or just things they might wish or need to know before it came up on the curriculum.

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There was a lull in the flurry of hatchings then, and R'than relaxed muscles he hadn't been aware of tensing. By the first egg he hoped there were no more maulings today; the sands were red enough with blood as it was. He was pleased to see a handsome bronze in the bunch; it was always good to see one of the largest males in a clutch. The lack of greens so far was not yet a cause for concern, but he hoped a good number of the remaining eggs held small females. Just as the Weyr needed bronzes to lead it, it needed agile greens to make up its fighting force; the role they played was invaluable, a lack of them would be bad news.

The Clydesdale Blue had Impressed! Vaythel was happy for the newly-formed pair, and he watched as they went to the feeding area with a smile. That Blue was going to be truly monolithic when he grew up, and Vaythel would enjoy seeing him grow. The pile of eggs had began to dwindle, and now Vaythel was a little worried that he would be left standing a second time. He covered that worry up with the same pleasant thoughts, but it still lurked, and Vaythel honestly wished that for once he could stop thinking about something for more than ten seconds. That would be especially nice in this situation.

None of the eggs had started to rock after the Clydesdale Impressed--it seemed as if there was a lull in the Hatching.

It was a chore--no, a burden--finally coaxing Xanthoth away from anything female with a twitch enough to get him to where his meal was waiting. The things B'lin knew of dragonets, the stories he'd heard from previous hatchings and what he'd observed in this one had him convinced food would be priority number one. But no. It was a mere backseat driver in light of all the women around them. Had this bronze really made the right choice?

I made the best choice, B'lin. One day, we will do great things. Yes, one day. But not today. Today, he was content to window shop, sweeping his eyes across any pretty girl--be it a human or another dragon--as he past them. The journey to the table was long enough for him to not-so-subtlety brush against more than a few young ladies on the way. And one fairly older woman, to his dismay. How in the world did that get there?

Having his fill of eye candy (if only for a short while), Xanthoth decided to have his fill of actual food, happily gobbling up the offering B'lin presented him with followed by two more. While enjoying his personal feast he took the time to observe any of his siblings within range. The other males are so hostile, Mine. You are very lucky to have your Xanthoth.

"The males? Tch..." It was baffling how a man who spent so much time thinking had such troubles remembering his words could be mental as well as verbal. The day was just overwhelming, he supposed, and though he was (secretly) pleased with his new companion, that didn't give him permission to write off Bachi and Miah who were still potentially in harm's way. Then again, anywhere was harm's way with those two. They just weren't bright.

Truth be told he had to bring Xanthoth's sanity into question as well if he thought only the males had issues out of this group. He brushed it off as forgivable because, during the chaos, he hadn't hatched yet. But Xanthoth would have none of yet.

She is just lively, B'lin. She is a queen, after all. Her life is very important and sacred.

"I suppose," B'lin mumbled. So this tag along was capable of a coherent conversation after all.

B'lin! Do you see that girl? You should tell her I said hello!

Sigh.

S'kagi, in the stands, had remained silent for most of the affair, but anyone even slightly familiar with him could see he was board tense. His shoulders were tight, and his arms folded across his chest as though to hold in the nervous energy, and he was chewing the scar that marred his lower lip so fiercely that it was almost surprising he hadn't drawn blood.

Although some, hopeful souls did, he saw no coincidence at all in the early maulings, though with every dragon that did hatch, he felt a small surge of relief. Some of them were alive, thank FARANTH.
That Stupid, maggot of a candidate... Unless drunk, which he had not been since... well, since his face had been laid open, he was not a man prone to thoughts of senseless violence, but thinking of the she sheer arrogance it took to creep in before the touching, to put your hands on the eggs and jeopardize the lives inside because you were simply -far- too important to wait....
If he didn't think he'd pay an even higher cost, he would have been tempted to find the wretch and take them between. And then throw them from Coriath's back.
They live... so far. Coriath reminded him, trying to soothe his riders smoldering rage and worry, though even he couldn't help feel a shiver of concern, amidst the triumph of the successful hatchings.
Thank Faranth... He sighed, forcing himself to stop worrying at his scarred lip and shutting his eyes for a moment. As early as the eggs had been touched, they were lucky any of them had survived to hatch. I won't do anything to the little... creature. he added, unable to even refer to the perpetrator of this unspeakable act as even human. I don't have that right. The punishment had been handed out, much as he didn't necessarily agree with it. It wasn't as though they were so desperate for bodies that they couldn't afford to dispose of someone who was unable to respect the rules and lives of the unborn dragons... But he was no weyr-leader, and couldn't even claim the privilege of having flown one of the adult golds. Frustration and hope was all he had for the moment. Let them hatch. Please let them all hatch. He added silently, not directly to Coriath, though he knew the bronze shared his feelings.

His jaw cracked in a yawn.

It wasn't like this was boring, no. This was probably the most exciting thing he'd ever gone through in his life. But the sand was itching at his feet insistently, and he was starting to get hungry. All the excitement was burning his energy, and he only now wished that he had eaten more at dinner, or before he left. There was also a deep, hollow feeling in his stomach, not there from lack of food. It was more disappointment than anything else, really. Of course, he was still fairly new at this, and could only wonder what kind of emotional state attracted or repelled the dragons, if any at all.

The Bronze hatched, and his breath caught in his throat. Shard it, he was handsome. And the little Blue, but he was cute! Stumbling and bumbling along, unsteady on his feet. His heart went out to the poor thing. The Bronze, however, seemed perfectly comfortable and strolled straight into the crowd of girls. He blinked. Girls? His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was no record of a girl ever Impressing a Bronze, and if that happened now, it would surely be a first. However, it wasn't long until someone from their ranks made his way over, and he sighed. Obviously, the Bronze had Impressed. Turning his attention back to the Blue, he noticed that another boy had run out, wrapping his arms around the floundering Blue's shoulders, and his spirits sank lower.

After that, there seemed to be a calm. None of the other eggs rocked or twitched. He took this time to count them over, and concluded that there were seven left. Maybe. Some where hidden behind others, after all, and it was possible to miss them, if completely concealed. Seven more Hatchings - seven more dragonets - seven more Impressions.

Shards, but he could only hope he was one of Theirs.

Glancing to his right, he noticed another Candidate in a fit of nervousness, he noticed another Candidate who seemed just as disheartened as he did. He frowned, knowing all too well the feeling, and quietly moved over, careful to keep an eye on the eggs, should they start to hatch. Settling in next to Tideal, he watched the other out of the corner of his eye for a bit, and then snorted self-consciously. The boy seemed to know what he was doing, so he ruled out the first-timer thought he had going, and instead, wondered how many times he had Stood. His eyes straying to the eggs and staying there, he voiced his question. "How many times have you done this?"

He hoped the other boy would be up for some conversation, at least while the eggs were still. If not, he would have made a fool of himself, which he didn't often do. Or, at least, he told himself he didn't do.

It was somewhat dark out, and he was glad the sands were warm this time. Last hatching there was a fit of fainting, though this one had already set the record for the most mauling Tideal had seen. The queen had been utterly mad and her rival just as vicious. He was surprised no one's legs had gotten ripped off. Albeit a bit worried similar would happen to him for being the genius who decided to move to the front.

Attempting to conceal his thought Tideal stood continuing to watch the eggs for signs of live and, for him and the rest of the candidates, hope. He could only wish he would impress, and wondered offhandedly how enchanting the experience must be. He heard the sand being scuffed to the side and turned to see another boy there, who asked of him a question that brought his annoyance back full force.

"Three." He replied shortly, his eye twitching unpleasantly. The other boy was about an inch shorter than Tideal was, but better built and looked two or so years older. Probably standing for the first time, too. Tideal had always assumed the older kids had been here a bit, but apparently that wasn't always the case. Besides that, Tideal would be eighteen soon. Time was ticking away at his chance to impress. He glanced at the other boy again and pondered asking him his name, but instead frowned slightly and returned to staring at the shells unhappily, waiting for the other to speak again.

Silently, he thanked Faranth for the Sands. It was dark, or getting there, and the sands were keeping his feet warm, though they itched terribly. As much as he would have liked his sandals, he knew they would have done just as much good as none at all. The robe was no help, either, as he kept getting chills that ran along his legs and up his back.

He sighed inwardly as the other boy answered. It was short and to the point, not at all friendly. He seemed frustrated and annoyed, and wondered if it was because he hadn't Impressed or because Rumir was talking to him. Judging by the answer, though, he had to assume it was mostly that he hadn't Impressed. Three times Standing and still no dragon - he had done this just once before, and it was disheartening. He could only imagine how this one felt. With each clutch usually covering at least twelve eggs (and sometimes rising to thirty), that was a total of anywhere from thirty-six to ninety dragons missed. He visually cringed at the thought. It must have been hard, he told himself, and it was a wonder he was still here. Rumir would have given up, had it not been for the appeal of the dragons and the wonder of Impression.

He nodded curtly. "Shards," he muttered, keeping a wary eye on the eggs. "S'only my second time, actually." It didn't feel all that important to say, but he figured he may as well. Still staring at the eggs, he drew himself up some, mentally berating himself for slouching. No dragon would Impress if he didn't show an interest in being here. "M'Rumir," he said suddenly, and wondered if that was too much. Well, whatever, he thought, it was out there.