Empty Sands (But Not For Long)

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Orraeloth's eggs have lain upon the sands of Western for so long that some have begun to wonder if they were not only duds, but in fact painted rocks smuggled out there by Liora and Orraeloth at some point in the past prior to the former's breakdown and the latter's subsequent injury upon the sands. Tended by the other golds (moreso Miraneith in the more recent days with Shadhavarth preparing for her own clutching) they seemed real enough, and perhaps just needed a little extra time to cook. With so few eggs, candidates weren't really searched, as it was decided that with the number of young people of appropriate ages in the caverns (many of whom had already been searched in the past) that there would be enough choice for the dragonet(s) that might arrive.

When the humming began in the wee hours of the morning, it hardly seemed worth getting out of bed for — and most people didn't — a few unlucky weyrbrats and weyrfolk of the right ages having been prodded and chided from their beds were escorted out onto the sands, and somehow, somewhere, a baby dragon was actually born.

It was quite anticlimactic — this potentially last child of Orraeloth was a little blue, (scrawny, but otherwise healthy) who chose a lad of thirteen from amongst those presented to him. The weyrlingmasters have taken the matter in hand, and with the imminent clutching of Shadhavarth, it won't be long before the small blue is surrounded by others of roughly the same age. The first two eggs clutched by Orraeloth, wizened and shrunken as they are, were sent to the dragonhealers at Ierne WeyrHold for examination.

And if that's not all, were Liora awake and aware enough to understand and see for herself, a certain golden queen is starting to glimmer with that sheen of impending proddiness, proving with little suprise for no one that her delusions of grandeur were just that… that her elevation to seniorhood was all in her own mind. From famine to feast, as the weyrlingmasters might say.

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