Scrambled Eggs (Third Touching)

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Hatching Sands
A wide, spacious cavern with a high, vaulted ceiling and ledges high above for dragons to perch upon. The iridescent sands shimmer in the heat, a myriad of pearlescent colors which change and shift in the light. The sands themselves are uncomfortably warm although they seem most welcoming to dragonkind. Scattered shards remain from past clutches although the current brooding queen usually has a cleared spot for her own clutch. Just up from the sands are the ledges where dragons can land to watch, while along the eastern wall are the galleries for humans to watch.

It's sometime mid-afternoon, sleepy and hazy, warm as it ever is. Outside, it's been on-and-off drizzling all day, but it's relatively dry inside, unfathomably uncomfortable with the humidity hanging heavy in the air. Ilyscaeth is…bloody? Which probably isn't super comforting to any candidates, and the way she is delicately picking through a massive pile of dead wherries is. Also probably not great. Still, she looks pretty content to lounge impressively off to the side, watching lazily as Citayla nods for the Weyrlingmaster accompanying the candidates. The greenrider speechifies for a moment, and the Weyrwoman watches with mild amusement from her heat-exhausted puddle of gross, waving an airy hand. "You know what to do." The former healer calls, when the other rider is done, grinning a little. "Don't mind the blood too much. Sorry about the smell."

Mmm, the smell of freshly, (or perhaps in this case, not so freshly) murdered wherry in the morning. Except that blood on these sands becomes glitter tainted and sparkly which possibly adds a whole new level of horror to the scene. RAINBOW GLITTER SHPARKLES OF DEATH! Still Dead Wherry has never looked so? Fabulous? Cue one lanky dolphineer who has essentially stripped to -gasp- a tunic that looks like it was made for someone the size of a baby orca but has been adapted to a loose fitted dress of sorts with a little creative belt work. The result, is a lot of mostly bare legs and arms and still tugging at the fabric to encourage airflow. "Jim - was worse. Ask Ila." Tanit manages, sketching a flourished bow to the master of glittery death and her noisy but endearing bronze counterpart. And because the sooner one gropes those eggs the sooner they can escape into the blessed cool of the lagoons (or even the laundry vats at this point would be a welcome relief to the heat) She moves with purposeful strides to the egg Xermiltoth had warned everyone off the first time, because LIFE ON THE EDGE.

< Tanit touches egg 1 - Storm to Sunshine Egg >

Or in the afternoon.
Because it is totally afternoon.

"Truly," Cita agrees easily enough, sipping on a massive, heavy-looking glass of water. "Still. Nothing quite like the smell of hot entrails to clear the sinuses." A brittle smile, because it's possible that she also does not love the smell — who would, really? Ily completely ignores both of them, instead holding a loud conversation with what is probably Tei or Xermi; loud enough that the back-beats of laughter are obvious, but for once, not the words. Small miracles. The Weyrwoman subsides when Tanit approaches the egg, hefting an eyebrow and grinning a little. Uh-huh. She sees you, there.

Tanit nearly falls backward, her hand pulled away and blinking in the oppressive heat. Sea-green eyes shifting over the silvery shape not entirely sure what to make of the object, a step back and then fingers reach outstretched to touch the shelled surface again brows drawn together.

"You look - So thrilled to be here." The dolphineer observes with a pitying smile, less taken aback by the egg this time as it so brazenly just raffles through her thoughts and memories. A hand smooths over the silvery surface one last time as she glances to the other eggs.

< Tanit leaves egg 1 - Storm to Sunshine Egg >
< Tanit touches egg 3 - Fly Away Home Egg >

Cita attempts to flip her hair imperiously — it sticks to her neck, and face, and whatever else it can, and the Weyrwoman grins, dry. "I can't see why. It's a lovely place, isn't it? I suppose it's better for you, though, down there." Is it, Cita? Is it?

"Well, the luck in that." The dolphineer notes, blinking still at the egg with a head tilt. "Is after this and the hatching - likely never have to do this again." Where as Cita? POOR CITA. Fingers smooth over the egg's surface once more.

Cita favors Tanit with a wrinkle-nosed kind of look, head waggling uncertainly. "That's what I thought. One more time, to appease Ryn and Ila…" The Weyrwoman trails off, ominously, but the look she fixes Ilyscaeth with is warm enough. Only partially because, well, it's real warm in here. There's a beat of silence, and Cita huffs something like a laugh, gazing out across the eggs. "Not so bad, I suppose."

The egg, earns something of a smile as Tanit shakes her head to clear her thoughts. Smoothing fingers over the surface one more time. "Yes, but all of this - except the face melting and gore cleaning - seems to suit you." Tanit notes with a wry smile, "Appeasing R'hyn and Ila. It sounds like most bad ideas start that way." A wide smile offered to Cita, "They aren't quite what I imagined after hearing tales of Xanadu's eggs being dark and ominous. Most seem - well downright friendly."

Cita grins, now, sharp and quick — "It's not so bad. There was plenty of gore, as a healer, but this is…" She shrugs a sweaty shoulder, hums under her breath. Good enough, apparently, to earn an amused look for something her dragon says. "They're not done, Ily." The goldrider tells the dragon, and laughs. "Not most. Maybe…some." She's fair, see, look. Not always maligning their character. The former healer meditates on the nature of the eggs for a moment, quiet, then makes a helpless kind of shrug. "I'm not sure what makes 'em that way, honestly. Some of Ily's last time were mean, I heard. I guess they're just babies, yet."

< Tanit leaves egg 3 - Fly Away Home Egg >
< Tanit touches egg 6 - Don't Fall Down Egg >

"I take it she's impatient to be rid of us?" Tanit smiles, stepping away from the egg with a deep intake of breath and moving over to the last egg. "Maybe it's as much of a mystery as why dragons choose whom they choose?" The dolphineer wonders, "Though it would be interesting to see if things like food affected it. Maybe Lirieth ate a bunch of way too spicy wherry or something?" Who knows. Still a breath is sucked in as the egg does it's thing. Unnerving as that thing is.

Tanit studies the egg, still tracing the rough shape of it.

"More like, she wants to eat in peace and ah," Beat. Squint. "Cirell? Won't stop staring. Don't worry, darling, she won't eat you." The last is called in the general direction of a small boy who's less egg-touching and more green-wobbling, but she doesn't intervene more. He'll be fine. Probably. "It is to me. I'm not sure what to think of it. Maybe Weyrbred know better." The Weyrwoman hums, thoughtful, but it trails off in a little bark of laughter. "Too many tunnelsnakes makes for shifty eggs. Gotcha. Well, it's as good a theory as any." She waggles eyebrows and leans back, amused.

Tanit moves her fingers away from the egg, fingers brushing against the jet black egg as she makes her way back to sketch a bow to the bronze and gold. "Then I leave you to your dinner." For Cita, the dolphineer shrugs, "I know bivalves. Not dragons. Do you want me to have the headwoman send someone back with a pitcher of ice water?"

Cita makes an amused face for Tanit, watching the Weyrlingmaster start rounding up the group of candidates. "Would you mind? I'm running out, here. You be sure to get a glass, too. Big one. These sands…" The Weyrwoman trails off, wrinkling her nose vaguely. "Enjoy the rain." WISTFUL SIGH.

"You too when you get the chance, Your wish is my command Weyrwoman." Tanit notes with a floppy grin as she bounds out into the rain to do just that!

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