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Both dragon and rider watched in somber silence as the little green hatched and quickly found Hers, despite the sorrowful mood that hung over the Bowl. And then, there was only one egg left. But G'ran realized with a start, everyone was beginning to move, including those that had newly Impressed. "Where are they going?" He demanded slowly, staring hard at the last egg.

It is empty. Ormeteth spoke quietly, nudging firmly at His to help him rise back to his feet. We must go.

G'ran could only stare, mingled sorrow and frustration building in his chest before he swore and began to shift. His legs, he realized belatedly, were starting to hurt again. Ormeteth noticed and attempted to clumsily swipe at them with his tongue--which promptly lolled out of his mouth and hung there, completely numb.

The bellow of the Queen interrupted any amusement that might have punctured his mood, and he whirled to see some sharding wherrybrain touching the dead egg. That explained the ire of the gold.

Before he could even react, Ormeteth was butting at his legs and forcing him to stumble forward, not giving him the chance to even consider trying to help the fool. We are going. The dragonet said firmly, not going to take anything but acceptance for an answer.

And as expected, the queen had squashed whatever hope the boy Veyes possessed-- almost literally, as it were, with one of those massive forepaws. Cheoth's shriek was like an explosion of thunder that rattled through the stands, jarring Canth's insides and stirring them up to an even sicker knot than before. The hatching was over. The festivities, if they had ever existed to begin with, were gone.

She needed air. She needed air desperately and the Sands didn't seem to have any of it, steeling herself with a hard swallow and moving out, silently, at the flanks of the other more outwardly frantic candidates. So distracted was she by her own mind that her body seemed to function on its own, not noticing her pace quicken, or her heart race, or even the shaking of her tightly clenched hands.

... Shards, every part of her was quivering.

Surely, this couldn't... this wasn't how Hatchings were supposed to be. It just couldn't be-- and if it was, she wanted no part of the lifestyle. Even the chance to live for herself wasn't worth this ill misery and terror. The scratches? The wounds? Those could be licked in silence... but only on the outside.

Even Chavel had possessed enough good sense and rationality to take his leave by then, knowing that any proper raging queen needed her space... though his perpetual smile was far away, twisted in a thin, unfortunate frown.

His work would certainly be cut out for him after all this trauma, and that was putting it lightly.

A'bri gave A'nt a quick look, as his tone gave nothing away, before a wide (if not perhaps as wide as usual) smile crossed his lips. A little bit of levity could go a long way, especially after so much hurt.

"Fools, every one of them," he agreed with a chuckle, shaking his head. "I, for one, am going to be very unconcerned if Cheoth eats him." Really, antagonizing an angry Gold after her clutch had been disrupted to the point of losing two littles? Not A'bri's idea of a good game plan.

And oh, good, Redhath and his rider had made their own hasty exits. That was comforting.

"Anyone waiting for you at the feast?" A'bri asked, pausing only for a second to wonder if there would be a feast, with it being so late, and with everyone still reeling from the emotional whiplash of the Hatching. "Or do you want to share a table for a bit?" He figured there would be some wandering and mingling, but it'd be nice to have someone to start out sitting with.

The more J'ken spoke with His, the more he felt their bond grow, and through other hatchings and Impressions he blissfully tuned out the goings of the rest of the weyr, his entire being focused upon feeding Bayarth the thin strips of pre-cut meat. In fact, it seemed that there was no 'rest of the weyr', no other hatchlings, no other weyrlings, nothing but that perfectly mottled blue hide and their private conversation.

At least, there was nothing but the two of them until the shrills came.

Bayarth's eyes snapped to a yellow whirl as he turned his head back to the Sands, and J'ken could only follow the stare of his partner, to the mess that the other blue was creating. My brother needs help, mine, Bayarth whined softly, though he made no efforts to move just yet. J'ken remained still as well for the most part, though he did move closer to his bonded, placing a calloused hand on the dragon's neck as a source of comfort in the face of such a heartbreaking wail.

The two watched in silence, and although they mutually agreed that the best thing to do was wait, Bayarth's eyes continued to grow paler and paler, until by the time J'ken looked down again they were nearly entirely white. True, a brown had Impressed successfully, but that didn't help the frantic blue, and all the while, things seemed to get worse--

And then, the blue was gone.

MINE! The intensity of the shriek within J'ken's head was nearly enough to cause him to topple over, though the horrifying sight before him likely had some hand in helping his shaky legs. Mine! Please! We must help him! He is my brother, and I must find him, before he--

I...I think he's already gone, Bayarth. We can't go where he went. We can't help him. To deny his dragon the opportunity to help, so early on...It was perhaps the most draining thing J'ken had done in all his Turns.

But...we have to help him, J'kenmine! I thought you said we were going to help people, together! We have to help him! We have to! It was not long before Bayarth joined the chorus of lamenting dragons with a weak bugle, and J'ken found himself stifling a mimicked cry himself, forcing it down to a choked hiccup as he rubbed his hand on his dragon's hide, trying his best to calm them both.

We will, Bayarth, but only the people we can help. Look. Through tears the boy hadn't known he'd started to shed, he watched as a green hatched from her shell, as happy and healthy as all the others that had hatched up to this point.

You have other siblings who need you. And--and the rest of the weyr. That's a lot of helping we have to do. And we have to do it doubletime, because we're missing one of our own. As he said what he thought was consoling, Bayarth let out another creen at the reminder of his lost brother, but it was shorter-lived than the last cry. After a while, Bayarth seemed to calm on his own, his eyes swirling less violently in the dullest shade of gray.

I think it's time to go, Mine, the blue finally said with a somber tone, looking towards where the weyrlings were being led off the Sands. It is over, I think.

J'ken reluctantly began to lead His towards the exit, knowing better than to reopen wounds by asking about the last egg, almost wishing he didn't know the answer for himself. It'll be okay, Bayarth, the boy quietly said with a nod, his hand never leaving his dragon's side. We'll make it okay if we have to, but I promise it'll be okay.

Just as they began to leave the Sands, another shriek tore at their collective conscious: that of a grieving mother. For a moment, Bayarth's eyes whirled red with the need to aid his own, but J'ken's grasp remained firm, even though a lump rose in his throat. Not now, Bayarth, J'ken scolded, hating every moment of his displeasure. There's been enough for one night. Not now.

Only reluctantly did the blue give up his crusade, and with his head low, he moved closer to J'ken, stumbling for the door. I hope it gets better soon, Mine. I do not like this at all. Too much bad to be a happy day.

Jessmet was surprised that her little green had dared call the Queen. Whether or not Ailurath's plea was effective was a moot point. Cheoth was furious.

The young woman covered her ears at Cheoth's outraged bellow, cringing against Ailurath, who nosed her rider's shoulder. We go now. Her eyes still whirled an anxious yellow.

"Yes!" Jessmet whispered fervently, running her hand down Ailurath's soft neck. Together they joined the other riders, dragons, and spectators fleeing the scene.

A'bri smiled a bit more, some of the familiar friendly energy returning to him. It was hard for A'bri to remain low when there were people around, and though the shock and the pain of the emotionally draining Hatching were still terribly real, it was a relief to be able to relax even a little.

"I don't mind the talking, really," he said, clearly not bothered in the slightest by A'nt's slightly awkward ending. "I should check on a friend of mine, at some point- I think she was in the stands, and she's liable to be very upset, I want to make sure someone's with her... And Varth and I need to make some apologies, I think, so we'll be walking around at least a bit."

Varth grumbled a little at that, clearly not seeing why his rider thought he had any reason at all to be apologetic. After all, those others had not been wise enough to get out of his way; that was hardly Varth's fault.

:That's not really fair, you know,: A'bri commented silently, marveling at the fact that he could. :There's not a lot of room out there to move. And when you fall on them...:

Varth snorted, his opinion on that abundantly clear in the slightly disgusted look he gave A'bri.

"...Anyway," A'bri continued, flashing another slightly subdued smile at his new friend. "It'll be nice to have someone to sit with to start, though."

S'kagi put his arms around his daughter and held her close, maybe slightly closer than was comfortable, as though he could shield both her and Coriath from vanishing the way the blue had, the great bronzes distress making an uneasy tide of grief that surged between them, too powerful to eclipse the small triumph of the hatched green.
"He... won't come back." He agreed, voice quiet, strained to try and keep it from breaking. "I'm sorry..." He felt helpless and angry, distraught, feelings not helped when the last egg did not stir, but stayed still and dead, though he caught his breath in an hiss when Cheoth raged out in ways most did not dare to, bellowing an open threat at the latest candidate who seemed to believe he was too special to obey, who, if he were not careful, would add the death of candidates to the tragedy of the days. Someone had to get the fool off the sands. It wasn't like the dragons to hurt a human, not when they were bonded... but if Cheoth had gone mad with grief, as he could well believe she'd done...
"For Faranth's sake leave it -alone-." He hissed, though it was impossible for Veyes to hear him, still holding Kagiya tightly. He wasn't near the lower part of the stands, though he could make his way there. But not without handing Kagiya to someone. It wouldn't be the first time he'd removed someone from the sands, but if he tried now it would be the first time he tried with such a force of power and rage on the sands, and Kagiya...
Kagiya might well try and follow him.
This should not have been! Coriath's voice carried emotion like a tidal wave. It was a glorious flight, it should have been a thing of stories. Not this! NOT THIS.