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[Malta]

Malta's focus had narrowed to her job, now. Her heart beat rapidly and she could feel it pound at her chest like some caged bird waiting to get out.
But she couldn't may attention to anything else but her job as apprentice healer and her friend as patient.
If she did pay attention to anything else, some part of her that had taken the eggs, the terrifying goldrider, and ferocious wheres to heart was worried that she would have a breakdown.
And things were too important for her to have a breakdown.
Bereck's reassurance helped somewhat. More than somewhat.
"Just a few moments and we'll have you ready to move to the infirmary"
That was good. Very good news. Ralvyn would be okay.
Though that left the question. Was she supposed to go with him or stay on the sands?
Probably the latter...

[Emmitod]

He managed to lean against something.
Pink.
Now that was a color he could root for, instead of just sitting here.
It looked playful and clever, and what a voice.
Emmitod was contemplating taking up the Harper trade, already thinking about when he would get out of this boring hole in the ground.
He -silently, because he remembered his instructions and he felt like being obedient- cheered on the new star of his...
Play.
Yes.
He would write a dragon play. He would control the stage. He managed to get himself situated on something hard so he could watch the pink prance around and play.

[Raolan]

Whoa!
Raolan reeled back as the Hatchling pounced at him.
PINK??!!

What the hell?
Raolan's a** was in the sands, and with some muttered bilous words, he stood up.

He would need two doses of that stomach drink. And maybe need to get his heart checked.

He glowered at pinkie the dragon.

The tension in the air had gone beyond any phrase so cliche as ‘thick enough to cut with a knife’ – it was not merely thick, it felt very nearly alive, a living beast that breathed down the back of C’ross’ neck. That parting shot of V’tyai’s landed harder and dealt more damage than the bluerider would ever know; had C’ross been a little younger, a little more impulsive and a little less self-disciplined, he would have lunged after the man and tackled him to the sands for daring to imply that this was C’ross’ choice. That he had wanted this.

He never wanted this. It was the unspoken first law. Whenever you take up a weapon, hope you won’t have to use it.

Instead he broke off, not sparing V’tyai or his sharding weyrmate another look, and prowled up into the stands to sit with Merceth. Together the two of them had a bird’s eye view, at least. The crossbow was still in his hands, but it remained unloaded; he held onto it solely because he didn’t trust what might happen if he put it down.

Merceth twitched and rumbled behind him, silent in his mind save for the continuous low growl. C’ross rested a quelling hand on his muzzle. They stayed like that as two golds Impressed (two?) and as a... pink dragon... hatched.

C’ross did not look at M’onk, and instead began formulating explanations. Sorry, sir, withdrew from the situation to keep from disrupting the Hatching, and I didn’t see your signal. Didn’t seem like a threat to me, sir. Could have been a... well, no, all right, no color you can mistake pink for. Why couldn’t you have been purple, little guy? Then I could mistake you for a blue.

-----

The Healers are right. You ought to stay still. Try not to worry about it. Zenaith crooned at him, curling up at his side and resting her head on his hip. Her presence was warm, not just physically but mentally as well, sending a wash of comfort through the pain and wooziness of his thoughts. He reached down with his good hand to stroke her eyeridges gently, but apart from that he stayed quite still and let the healers do their work.

“Thank you.” They were going to bring meat for Zenaith; he could sense her hunger, although for the moment it was secondary to concern for her rider. She would be hungrier soon. “She says she’s not a gold,” he informed Bereck matter-of-factly. This whole sticking point about girls and golds still seemed to be an issue for him. Ralvyn – R’vyn? Was he going with R’vyn now? Yes, he probably ought to. Goldriders didn’t shorten their names. Perhaps someone would get the hint.

-----

“I don’t see how safety has much to do with it,” M’ska observed pleasantly, as Descanth moved to place herself carefully between Squadsecond C’ross and the remaining hatchlings. He would either have to move from his current spot or attempt to fire through twenty feet of green dragon if he intended to repeat his earlier stunt.

“And I may not be so steady on my feet anymore, but I can still hold a crossbow just fine, thank you, Warden.” And I can put a bolt through your heart, assuming you’ve still got one instead of the gaping void of between where one ought to be.

For a moment, he caught C’tis’ eye. The Secondary Warden looked as furious as M’ska felt. But the greenrider could stand here all day playing M’onk at his smile-pleasantly-and-veil-insults game. And if it distracted him enough to keep any more hatchlings from dying, so much the better.

Prisoner Candidate Blyte

He was calmer now, and he watched as the strawberry egg hatched a Pink? dragon. He had touched that egg, the one that had looked like it had blood on it, and remember the impression it had given. It had been a rather happy egg, and it looked as if that had

He chuckled as he watched it mingle with the candidates, causing chaos of the non bloody type. That was probably for the best.

He was a cutie, a playful adorable creature that probably didn't deserve to be trapped her for it's life. M'onk was going to hate him. Blyte glanced around, slightly pleased that it looked as if the older riderguards were stepping in. Hopefully this meant that the little one would get to impress before anything happened to him, but that was something they'd just have to wait and see.

Was that a hint of a glimmer from that egg? He stared at the Princess egg, trying to see. Were they going to end up with a another gold colored dragon? Maybe it'd impress a boy too.

Stella and Stelask and Revrend and Resk.

Or perhaps not. Stella remained by her life partner, eyes narrow as V'tyai began to bellow after the little grey's death. "I don't think that was a cull, love." She pressed her lips tight, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners from stress and tension. So, not like whers it seemed if V'tyai rage was anything to go by. There went Taavetti... there had been rumors but well, this really sort of assured the men were at least friends.

Well, this is a bunch of s**t. Stella set a hand on her wher as the green hissed, rising in displeasure and lost and swirling rage. She idly scratched Stelask head, pushing calm and stay and glanced up at Revrend. "Should we?"

"C'ross," Revrend said finally, fingers curling in her hair and teeth leaving indents in her lower lip. "Taavi has V'tyai, but if that was really uncalled for he is going to be hurting." She hated culling whers but at times it had to be done but if culling a dragon was murder. This had to be on orders and one more reason to be displeased with M'onk.

Resk gave a low thrum of mourning, head low and sneezed.

"Alright then." Stella gave a firm order for Stelask to stay with her partner, ignoring the green wher's displeased rumbling in her mind she sauntered of, taking the long way toward V'tyai, Taavetti, and C'ross. She kept close to the wall, eyes gleaming and relax. Rev... her partner would be better at this sort of thing, emotions and problem solving and personal problems. That was Revrends expertise. She, well, Stella preferred to hurt things not fix things. This, ignoring orders was more Stella's thing though.

Revrend was a good girl.
------------------------------
Saain

She was missing something. Saain frowned, on edge and coiled tight at the tension in the sands. She was missing something, just because she had stopped to bandage up Marue injured legs and the girl had ignored her for her dragon. Perhaps not terribly surprising, but she hated missing important things. She glanced out at the sands, drifting over the shells of the eggs. Everything was adding up, what was she missing? No, wait the little gray.

Saain frown, back tracking and counted over the eggs again. There was an extra egg or more, ones she hadn't seen nor touch. But the little gray was gone and she had missed what had happen and she doubt it was anything as pleasant as the little one impressing.

V'tyai was pissed, Taavetti was on the sands... the dragon riders seem to have or were drawing lines. This, wasn't good.
---------------
Joscelin
The little terror was back. Joscelin eyed the pink dragon warily, honey brown eyes narrowed in disdain. DID NOT WANT. GO AWAY. He really doubt thinking in capital letters strongly was going to drive the pink away but they were not compatible. At alll. The little pink terror should go and impress already and leave him alone.

He grunted at the head butt, losing his footing between the sandals and sands and force and was that a ripping sound? His eyes went wide in disbelief, red crawling up his neck and blooming in his cheeks and clashing horribly with his hair. That little b*****d had torn his robe near his.. his... posterior.

That little monsters! Joscelin shifted, too polite to grab at his buttocks but instead gathered the robe in his hands, bunching it about his hips till the torn fabric was in his hands and the helm of his robe lifted nearly up to his knees and tight about his shoulders. He was red well to the tips of his ears and his nose and felt a tear trek down his face from pure frustration and humiliation.

Canoake watched as the little pink had,she guessed the word was, assaulted two men again. One of them had terribly bright red hair and the other she had definitely not seen before. It was almost as interesting as watching M'onk interact with a green rider she remembered from the ordeal with Kaelyandra. Well, well... It seemed a few were not willing to continue to March to the Warden's tune. Canoake stared unabashed at their faces, memorizing who might be allies for later.

Because, her scheming mind had decided, there would be a later.

In the meantime, another egg was was shaking and bits of the shell fell off. Was that snother metallic? Perhaps a bronze or a gold. Shards, Canoake thought. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if copper or what would be metallic for blue and green? Sapphire and emerald? If those Hatched out. She could only wait. But then, the little pink did something she found utterly hilarious.

She? He? Tore the robe of the red haired boy. Tore it good so his behind was showing to the world. Normally, Canoake would have left him be and talked about the whole thing tomorrow. She probably would still talk about it tomorrow. But in light of everything going on, and as a Weavere, she felt almost obligated to help him. Moving quickly through those standing and mentally cheering the pink dragon on, she got to Joscelin. Kneeling down, she muttered loudly,"Don't move and don't do anything nasty or I will make this worse for you."

Quickly, her nimble hands began to do what they could as she yanked the fabric and tried to weave it together. Or at least tie the ragged ends so that he would be mostly covered.

Jaykkial

Both girls watched the Sands carefully, though one set of green eyes made a constant flicker back to the beautiful little creature sat before her. If it stays among the candidates, I doubt they'll shoot it. They couldn't get a clear shot with how many are in the way. Under normal circumstances that would probably hold true, but then it was dancing it's way through the prisoners and from what she'd seen, if one or two died 'accidentally' it would probably be blamed on the dangers of being around baby dragons.

She did laugh as a young man's robe was savaged, exposing more skin than the redheaded man appeared to be comfortable with.

Luka

The strange pink one appeared to be more like an overly friendly canine than a dragon. She began to relax, leaning around to watch it harass her fellow candidates. Her lips pursed in a suppressed smile and stiffed giggles as it tore another's robe. Then she lost sight of it around the candidates as the scribes humiliation drew another girl to kneel at his backside. What WAS she doing?

She near jumped out of her skin as she felt something hit her in the stomach. An offended shriek escaped her but the hatchling was already gone, off to torment some other soul.

M'onk knew he hit his mark when M'ska stiffened. He may be shorter and older than the greenrider but his mind had not failed him yet. M'onk smiled again and gave his head a little shake. "Should anyone ask why he did it, I will be more than happy to tell them I ordered it to be done. Freaks are not to be tolerated. We had enough of that already, don't you think?"

Bushy eyebrows rose, but he stared hard at the pink. "Your green seems to be keeping him from the pink one out there."

Fruit Crow ignored all the political bullshit. He had no shaffs or shards to give. His was somewhere around there and -- what.

The hatchling spun on his heels, incredilous. What what WHAT. He ran right back to Joscelin and shouldered the boy out of the way with way more force than required. The pink thrust his nose against Canoake's shoulder, curled close, and spoke in a loud, brash, and very masculine voice.

Hey! Hey! What do I care about the big masculine ones, huh? They suck! Leave him alone, he deserved it, smug little butthead. Get it? Hey! Canoake! He nipped at her lovely lovely hair. Listen to Haemath - they aren't even golds so stop being pissy one of them likes the loser. He's a loser. So are they. We aren't.

Rainbows. Glee. Haemath.

Out on the Sands, the Preening Princess Egg finally peeked the top of her head out of the shell. There was definitely gold to that hide, shimmering and lovely, with streaks of copper-bronze-orange. It cheeped and slowly started to climb out, gold-copper shoulders first. It took it's time.

Joscelin

What?

Joscelin blinked and attempted to keep the fabric covering his skin as the woman yanked the robe hard and started to do some sort of fiddly work with her hands. Why couldn't he be left alone? The blaze heat of his blush was coloring his shoulders bright cheery red, and Joscelin sort of wanted to crawl in some dark, cool, private place till the world stopped at the moment. Did she know how inappropriate and out of context this could be taken? In public and he had it under control.

Mostly... and the pink was back. Lovely, hello sand again. He was going to just sit here the rest of the hatching alright? Joscelin shifted, tucking the ruin robe under him the best he could so he wasn't sitting on gritty sand and glared at the pink and the woman it, he, she... little monster had impressed to.

"If you really want to help, you will get your hatching away from me," he said crisply, voiced chilled with a hint of squeak at the end. Not as dignified as he wanted but to the point. Get that pink punk of a dragon away from him. NOW.

Stella

She grinned brightly at V'tyai not put off at the man's sour flat words and held out a finger. "One little question, and you can answer in snarl if you want to," she said, cheerfully, bouncing on the balls of her feet, more to get out of the way then excitement. "Shooting that little mauling grey wasn't normal was it?" Bluntly simple, calm, and efficient. Really, Stella could piece it together quick enough with that one little question.

It always came back to M'onk.