Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ah, and so the rabble came out to display their foolish ideals of being fair. M'onk watched Canoake start to unravel, dark eyes hooded, smile quiet. He stood small on the Sands, true, but that didn't mean he bowed his shoulders and apologized to anyone.

"We will certainly have to continue this conversation once you've Impressed." His smile curved up more, the edges of his eyes crinkling further. "It will be a most illu--, ah, hello Wherhandler. It's a pleasure to see you here." M'onk had his trollface on in full form... even when Linfon decided to burst in like a psychotic bit of female.

Of course she would. Irrational woman.

"Good morning, Linfon. Aren't you supposed to be asleep like a good wherhandler? No, they stay on the Sands." M'onk raised his voice to make sure Desdelle could hear him as well. And Canoake... oh, Canoake. M'onk arched his busy eyebrows, amused expresson firmly in place. "My dear, I am under the impression you could not learn a lesson if it were placed in front of you with glows blinking about it. Are you quite done with your sensitive feelings and moral issues? Your loudness will do little to keep the former goldrider calm and you do seem so concerned about her."

In another situation, M'onk's words might have stopped Linfon. They ought to have stopped her then. But his response, first to the girl, and then to her, was enough to set her over the edge. With a snarl, she lunged forward grabbing at the bronzerider's shirt. "Let me tell you something, M'onk," she began, and only the thundrous snarl Linfonsk gave and the surge of muscle under her hand stopped her. She dropped both hands, grabbing at the ring on Linfonsk's collar as the green roared and lunged at the man.

"You might rest all nice and secure on your laurels because you have a bronze and think that means something - but let me tell you something -" she grunted, the effort of keeping Linfonsk back interrupting her attempts to speak. "This isn't about you M'onk, and you'll get what's coming to you!"

And she spat at the man, yanking Linfonsk back and turning to the rest of the group. "Candidates, off the Sands!" she called brusquely, using her entire weight to force Linfonsk's talons back onto the sand. She didn't care if her words meant nothing - if she held no authority here. The Candidates didn't know that. Some might guess, but Linfon would give as many an out as she could.

M’ska was leaving. He did not give a flying ******** what M’onk was doing at this moment; he could keep the Candidates on the Sands as long he liked, because M’ska was leaving, and he was taking Kaelyandra with him. The Weyrwoman was on her feet and that was all that M’ska needed to guide her off the Sands and away. He kept his arms around her, still steadying and supporting her – if she stumbled or faltered, he would catch her.

“Brask will stay. And – if I am hearing Linfon correctly, I suspect Linfonsk will as well.” Go Lin. Good girl. Show M’onk what for. M’ska wasn’t really the grabbing-people type – he wasn’t terribly big, he tended to prefer to wait until cornered and then bludgeon whoever it was with a heavy object. It was more of a surprise that way.

There was no mistaking the brief look of pain and disappointment that crossed his face – M’ska had been hoping, hope against hope, that the Weyrwoman would recover. That she would choose to live. Rare as it was, sometimes dragonless did survive… And they needed someone with power on their side, even if only the ghost of power. But he would not deny her. …Perhaps it would be better to call Berath sooner rather than later, Descanth informed Malcarreth, low and urgent. She was standing over the eggs now, back arched, wing mantled, stance protective. Her head was low and her eyes blazed red-orange. It would not be wise to approach the green in this mood.

+++++

…Well now this was just a pack of bullshit.

He knew Brakiheth was gone. It wasn’t really a surprise to C’ross; she’d been strange and sickly to begin with. Ever since she Ran instead of Flying… Well, there was a reason Merceth hadn’t chased her, even beyond C’ross’ habit of holding him back. And it was sad, but there was no reason to go to pieces over it. Let’s face it: the Weyrwoman of Warden’s Weyr was a figurehead, nothing more. Her departure left no gap in the chain of command.

M’onk was Warden, and the Warden was law. C’ross would continue as he always had.

Except that for some reason, all the Candidates were on the Sands with that strange crippled greenrider, and some wherhandlers looked like they were on the verge of inciting some kind of trouble. Linfon especially. C’ross knew Linfon. She was trouble. Merceth landed on the outskirts of the sands, alert and curious, but for now the big brown kept his distance. It was the rider who strode out onto the sands and interposed himself on the power struggle.

“Warden. Is there a problem?” His tone was deceptively calm and level, but the way he looked to M’onk rather than Linfon made it clear enough: the Squadsecond was not on your side, greenhandler.

Squadsecond C'ross.

Of course.

Linfon watched M'ska and Kaelyandra as they left the Sands, giving a short nod in the greenrider's direction. Good. At least one person out here had sense. But M'onk's words and the sudden appearance of the brownrider were getting in the way of Linfon's thinking. She was spitting mad at the moment, the feeling complicated by the impotent rage of the green beside her. Okay, it's okay, you can calm down now, girl. She sent the mental reassurance to what felt like a brick wall of fury, and could tell even as she sent them that her words were entirely unconvincing.

Linfonsk will calm down when no more crying and angry on Sands, the green snapped, baring her teeth at M'onk and C'ross but settling. Her tail lashed and she rumbled harshly, but she was no longer lunging, no longer needed to be restrained by her handler. Still, the look she gave both brown and bronzerider was harsh, swirling red-orange as she jerked her chin up and regarded them defiantly with her muzzle in the air.

Confident they were safe from any immediate wher attacks, Linfon let go of the collar with one hand and straightened up, looking at M'onk with an expression that unconsciously mirrored her wher's. "What do you hope to accomplish here? Was your goal to drive Kaelyandra to suicide in front of a Candidate class? Is that what you wanted? An audience for a tragedy?"

"Oh, to between with this." V'tyai ignored the bad timing of that particular swear and walked further onto the Sands. This was getting out of hand and like it or not he had to keep the Candidates under control. Canoake was his responsibility same as the sniffling trio to the back. He didn't sign up for this. He came to Warden's to take care of murderers, to get away from the bullshit of the Watch. How was this getting away from them? He didn't hop on board to emotionally destroy children. That's all those Candidates could be, just children. While he approved of Canoake's opinion (and, by proxy, Linfons), some deep part of him worried over M'onk's wrath. He did not want the Candidate to suffer if she managed to Impress and became one of M'onk's direct underling. Linfon could defend herself. Still queasy looking under his anger, V'tyai moved in towards the majority of the Candidates, his voice rising and sharp.

"Candidates! To the edge of the Sands. Do not leave, come stand with me until this is settled." It'd give them something to do other then stare and be horrified by what was going down. Where he went was to Ralvyn, Meera, and Malta, that hard stare fading into mild concern. Had they been somewhere private - somewhere without M'onk or murderers every which way - he'd have maybe offered a hug. Taavetti would have and everyone liked being comforted. Instead he offered a lack of snarling or snapping. It was almost the same as comforting, right? He had to say something, do anything to avoid thinking of what sort of talk he may have to have with M'onk after for indirectly disobeying him. Maybe it'd calm Linfon and the rest down - Rev and Stella showed their faces, that Brak... Name escaped him. They were there. It did not look good and calming Candidates was the only thing he could do for the moment. "I apologize for this. The next time you are out here will be for dragons. Keep your eyes front, don't talk back, and let him think you are terrified of me crippling your dragons. Okay?"

He patted Malta on the arm, eyes turning back to the Candidates who would (hopefully) be heading to the edges to stand with them.










-----

M'onk made a mental note to have a Discussion with V'tyai once they finished business on the Sands. He looked over at the short bluerider only once for his insubordination - a rider, disobeying. And the closest thing to a Candidatemaster they had at the time too.

C'ross, though. At least two others understood what it was he was doing. M'onk looked to Rokana and C'ross, gaze lingering on the taller brownrider. "The wherhandlers disapprove." He said mildly, Rev and Stella having just made their own appearance on the Sands. The female wherhandlers were dismissed as readily as Linfon (she didn't count as a female in his mind), the old man's mouth tightening near the edges despite his smile.

"Linfon, my motives are none of your concern. Nor are they yours," He nodded to the newcomers, his hands clasping once more behind his body. "Candidates need to be aware of the dangers with dragonriding. C'ross, Rokana, Desdelle, please take care of the rambuncious wherhandlers. This is not their place."

Malta was unresistant to the herding. She didn't let go (unless he did), though. Ralvyn was nice. He was something that made sense right now.

She wanted to help people. Being a healer was that at its core. It was also interesting, but ultimately, yes.
And here was someone in pain. horrible pain.
And she didn't know what to do.
She couldn't treat it. She couldn't comprehend it.
No words could be used. Nothing.
She felt terrible, like it was her fault, and sickened by it all.

She moved like a chess piece, not entirely of her own will. She wiped her face as she moved- was moved- to the edge of the sands.
She was crying. Kaeylandra hated crying. She remembered that.
Small comfort was the pat on the arm. She just looked with the sort of noncomprehending pained look of someone who has just had their innocence badly damaged.
She'd had it. Some sort of optimism under the self deprication.
This was not an optimistic place. This was not an optimistic scene.
She just couldn't get WHY.

Why was this happening? Why could such pain exist in the world?

Malta looked back. Once. At the whers gathering around the green.
The goldrider was gone. to... what..
Oh...
She looked away quickly and shuddered. She kept moving by the chessmasters will.

Why?

Rokana gave M'onk a sharp nod, blue eyes stone cold. "Yes Sir." The words were half barked, as emotionless as those eerily observant blue eyes. He grasped Linfon firmly by the arm, expression stony, and pulled to lead her away from the warden. He eyed her wher, choosing his next words very carefully. His lips drew tight and his tone turned almost terse. "If you want this to be over then stop dragging it out." He persisted in his pull, punctuating his words. "I understand you empathize with the rider, but your behavior is only making the event carry further." The guard paused, and leaned closer. For a moment his eyes turned more intense, watching every move, every tinge of expression in Lifon's face, and then, his tone softened in volume and timbre, though those intense and stony features never budged an inch. "Your actions are challenging M'onk's authority, and he will prolong this torture until his authority rules. If you really wish this to end, then stop thinking of your own sharding feelings," He outright pointed at the goldrider as she was led away from the sands, his volume rising to something that could almost be called impassioned. "And start thinking of hers. Start thinking of the eggs who hardly need this in their sharding cradle." He paused, suddenly realizing. His features turned stony once again, his voice steady. He dropped his hand from the handler's arm, he had to keep himself together. He straightened himself, adjusting his uniform with an aloof air. "If you want this to end, then stop thinking of yourself and let it end. It is that simple." He pointed to the edge of the sands and further, on to the housing quarters. "If you want this to stop, then leave."
((ooc note: I'm completely ok with Rokana being attacked by a wher at this point, just don't cripple him too badly ok? Oh! and don't forget that M'onk might have consequenses for any creature that attacks someone! I don't want anyone attacking without that in mind, I'd feel really bad if something bad happened to your characters!))

---

The Nozomi

Marue watched in utter confusion, so unsure what to do. She couldn't step out of line, but by the first egg, if it wasn't impossible not to in this situation. No matter what she did she'd be disobeying someone. For once, she breathed a sigh of relief as V'tyai called them to the edge of the sands, and scurried at his heels as quickly as she could. He was scary, that was for sure, but as he spoke she couldn't help but find at least a little comfort. She nodded vehemently to his words, and something told her that she'd hardly need to pretend to be scared. There were enough beasts on the sands, whers, dragons, and worst of all men, to achieve that in full.

---

The Nozomi

Shaddaling

tetrachrome

"The whers--Keep the whers here too..." Brakesh just barely caught the words over Brask's ears, and in an instant the Guard was moving. Too many riled people, too many riled beasts near the eggs, and she'd be damned if she didn't fufill the last thing she could do for her Weyrwoman. Brakesh blocked out the fights brewing on the sands---if she had her way she'd knock the lot of them out. M'onk was wrong for doing this, but the others were just as wrong. They should have waited, spoken their piece later away from the sharding eggs. For now, her only focus was the eggs, her only drive was to stand beside her wher, and make sure they were guarded. And Brask... The wher had turned solemn and tense, watching the events unfold with a dutiful eye. The wher almost smiled as Stellask and Resk approached. It was a sparkle shining through, his happy nature almost completely overtaken by the sense of duty that drove him to protect the eggs. PROTECT EGGS. NONE TOUCH, NONE HARM, AT ALL COSTS. The gravity to his tone was startling, most especially to Brakesh as she joined her wher's side. In a rare instance, the two looked near identical. Their features had turned hard with duty and determination. None touch, none harm. Brakesh's own thoughts echoed her wher's, repeating them over and over as a singular, powerful mantra. At All Costs.

But the raging green wher--Linosk?, despite her intentions, made Brask wary. His lips wrinkled ever slightly, BRASK NOT LIKE LINOSK VIOLENT NEAR EGGS. MOVE. AWAY. A warning filled the thoughts, something as large and intimidating as the wher himself and strengthened by the presence of more and more whers joining and his handler at his side. Brakesh watched as Isk approached, but kept turned her focus to the happenings of the sands. She could care less what happened, but repeated her mantra. None Touch, none harm, at all costs. She took a moment to count, Brask, Stellask, Resk, Isk, and more seemed to be flocking to the sands. She hoped that by some impossibility Brakieth and Kaelandrea could see, that they'd know their eggs would be protected--Even from M'onk himself if need be. No touch. No harm. At all costs.