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There were plenty of reasons why Dhum wasn’t allowed near the Hatching, but E’roe always tried to make him be somewhat party ready for the Feast afterwards. But the beast was as morose as ever, and he complained all the while even as his rider tried to point out the silver linings.

“Astriana finally found Hers. We’ll be meeting them at the feast.”

< He won’t care about anyone but His, I’m sure. I certainly don’t. It would be a waste of time. >

“But you do like food, yes? There’s sure to be the best slices of wherry there, your favorite.”

< I recall you saying I was now on a diet. You called me fat. >

“Because you are, dear. But you can indulge a little, just this once. It’s a party.”

Dhumavath rumbled sullenly nonetheless. He would much rather sit in his sand wallow and look mournfully up at the stars, pondering the disdain they must hold for the land-bound. But E’roe was a champ at forcing him to move even when he didn’t want to (and that was all the time now), and so with a long sigh and a quick slick of the rider’s mustache, the pair eventually wandered to the feasthall. Or rather, E’roe did to look for his niece and her friends while Dhum snagged some choice pieces of meat and dragged them to a spot outside and away from the majority of the party.

He longed for Lebonnath’s company again. She used to make these events easier to swallow; maybe it was poetic then that Thread had swallowed her easily in turn, as if her kindness had invited it to. Now he was expected to be kind and courteous and happy for others when he had no energy to do it for himself, pleased others had found Theirs when his had been taken away. And there was nothing to be done about it except to wait it all out.

Veikel

For Veikel, the feast was an early breakfast. He'd managed to get some sleep before the hatching started, and with how the blood flowed (both in his veins, and the candidates on the sands) he was likely to be awake for the rest of the day. Or sevenday, depending on how serious a turn some of these children took. It had been a bloody hatching, sad to say, but for the most part there was plenty to rejoice about. His brother had Impressed, there'd been twin golds, and lots of other twins. It was a happy occasion.

One that had him scoping out the food, oblivious to much of anything else. A small blue tail snaked itself around the thick, dark braid that hung about his back; it was the only sign of a small creature that chirped sweet demands for snacks. A few bits of meat were handed to a tiny blue maw, and Veikel hummed contentedly as he debated which wares would be the first to be sampled. He really, really wanted to go bother his brother, but the fact remained he needed to be alert for injuries and everything else.

Besides, Nikal didn't need him anymore. Not that he needed him before, of course! But far less now. It was much, much better to give that space even if it made him want to cry like a baby. Easier to handle when one rips the bandage right off, yes?

Adi and Blue Mazamath

This was not a time of night Adi often saw. The daylight hours were definitely her preference, and while she might occasionally stay up late, this was really late. Early-late. She'd been a little fuzzy-headed from the midnight wake-up when the Hatching had first started, but that had cleared quite quickly. All those twins! So much excitement! She didn't even care that she'd lost her bet. Not that it had all been exciting; there had also been tragedy. She tried not to linger on it, and pushed completely out of mind that it could just as easily have been someone she was close to.

It was easier to let her relentless optimism gloss right over it and focus on the adorable hatchlings, to be excited for the new weyrlings, and get ready for the Feast. After all, as long as she was up, she might as well eat, and dance, and see what interesting guests were here! Food, of course, was the first priority, and she swooped right in to pile a plate high with meatrolls, cheese, bread- oooh, was that chocolate? She was definitely coming back for that, among other things.

Adi crammed a meatroll into her mouth, plucked up a glass of wine, and went hunting for one friend in particular.

Outside, Mazamath was not nearly as awake as His, but was no less content, watching the comings and goings with interest. He kept an eye out for familiar faces, extending wordless but warm greetings to any friends, dragon or human.

Matotoka

Outside of a few swipes here and there, Matotoka had found the entire hatching mostly uneventful on a personal level. It wasn't that he hadn't found the hatching of the young dragons to be a marvel in and of itself - new life and that of something so esteemed and beloved was extra special.

It was that he hadn't resonated with any of the little ones. Not in the shell, not outside of it. No Hope's had been hung on any of these. In some ways the young man wondered if he was simply broken in the heart department and that it was a lack of that unbridled thrill that had been why none of them had wanted him. Not like that young girl that his brother had gone through quite the emotional tango with that week.

He'd never wished that turmoil upon Bukichi and made a point to locate those his brother called friend so he could leave them a wide berth. The food at the other end of the table looked just as fine, after all.


----

Nua of Green Sobeth

She'd been on edge for weeks. Sobeth ached for the sky and the normally mellow green had been testy and snippy. Nua had done her best not to let it rub off on her. Never the less, the green had remained in her wallow on the beach, waiting for company to be gone before she answered the call that gnawed on her insides and left her so uncharacteristically irritable.

Nua instead had taken up the nicest dress she had for such occasions, twisted her hair out of her face, and had been determined to have a good time. No sour dragon moods, no huffing and puffing, no lamenting a lack of sleep. Dancing, food, and meeting all the new little ones.

Sobeth let out an offended huff in her head. Sigh

While the green eyed young woman had kept an eye out for Aryale, C'ryn, Ky'ra, and her big brother K'din, she knew there were demands on their time. As excited as she was to find them, to show off her gorgeous Felisath, she wasn't going to push. There would be time enough before the night ended, and if all else, she knew half of them would be here at Western, and the other half nothing but a letter away.

What Kiri didn't expect was for a Candidate to approach and speak up. Felisath alerted her first, the bronze dragon's eyes whirling faster with emotion as he chirped in greeting at Stormy. Felisath, for her part, stepped closed to the back of Kiri's legs, though she turned her yellow-touched eyes upon Stormy with shy curiosity. Immediately, Kiri's hand reached down to gently, reassuringly, touch the top of the green's head.

While she recognized Stormy, having seen her around during their time as Candidates, she didn't know her well. Thankfully, that didn't bother her, and she was quick to offer a just as reassuring smile to her. "You're not bothering at all," she finally translated what the girl had said amid all the noise. Stepping a touch closer, just so they might actually get to talk instead of shout above the noise, she gave a dip of her head.

She wasn't sure if Stormy wanted to meet her, or the dragon huddling behind her. "This lovely little one is Felisath." The pride, the love, the ever-lasting affection she had for the little green was clear in every word; she couldn't help it. Stormy immediately earned points of approval in Kiri's book for taking any amount of interest in her darling. Though she didn't step out of her way--she wouldn't force the little green to be in the limelight--Felidae did give another reassuring cheep from Kiri's shoulder.

Green-yellow eyes peered shyly up at Stormy, and cautiously, she stretched her neck out just a little more so she might get a better look at the girl. Still, the yellow in her eyes began to take on more of a green hue. "I'm afraid I'm pants with names and don't seem to recall yours; I'm Kiri," she added, just in case it was needed. There were some Candidates she knew by name, but others, not as well; with so many faces that came and went, it was hard to keep them all straight.

“That’s okay, I don’t like standing out. I’m not good with names either.”

This was half true. Stormy’s books were peppered with not just dragons and their designs but with people’s names and sketches of their faces if she caught enough of a glimpse. It wasn’t exactly organized, however, and she definitely didn’t remember if she had jotted someone down unless they were repeat visits, like Astriana or Aerdan; sometimes she took an interest in a feature like a scar or a broken nose rather than the person, a lot like she remembered the patterns on dragons unique to them. She usually took a few of her favorite dragonets from a clutch along with their riders, attempted to keep them in mind, and then eventually space out by the time the next clutch came in unless she befriended them. And she so very much wanted to try harder on that front, even if it spiked her anxiety to. The mindhealer that she visited said it had been important to put herself out there, that she had been getting better over the past five turns. And she wanted to believe that, too.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kiri and green Felisath. Congrats! Call me Stormy,” she said. Maybe it was wrong to cling to the moniker, but it felt more comfortable than her real name. Like she was a character in a book instead of a random girl at a weyr, identifiable by her appearance and quirks tied together to a certain name. A descriptor, really, even if she didn’t look it.

Gathering her skirt beneath her, Stormy took a seat on the floor. It didn’t really bother her how abrupt that might seem, or that she’d get her clothes scuffed. She was very intent on being gentle as she peeled her sketchbook from her chest and cracked it open. “I wanted to know if it might be okay to sketch you really quick?” It was vaguely posed, like many things she said were, but she meant rider and dragon together.

Stormy turned the book around after finding a page and pointed with her pencil. “Sometimes dragons have the loveliest hides, like they were painted by a master artist; I like taking inspiration,” she explained somewhat self-consciously, growing unconsciously hushed again. “This one here is Brancath, for instance. She’s a lovely white with lace-like patterns. The girl next to her is her rider.” Or a rough approximation of her. A few more pages were flipped. “And this is Teth, your sire, with F’ell’s face next to him. He has some cute bands I wanted to recreate, but I didn’t have time before the Hatching started. Sketching also helps me remember others a little better. I-It’s okay if you say no, though,” she added quickly, realizing she might be rambling now. “I don’t mean to take up too much of your time.”


- - -


Eventually, he moved, if only because just sitting there made him feel even more like a sad sack, and he couldn’t do that. In public, anyway. Right now, Dhawsn needed to be grinning fool and a comforting shoulder and a dad. It wasn’t any surprise he would swoop over Serfie first. The girl practically radiated an aura of disgust on the fringes of the party, though for whom exactly wasn’t obvious.

“You ain’ gonna share?” he asked, feigning woundedness as he plopped down next to her, making to take her wine bottle. Not to drink for himself but to better check and see how deep into her cup she was. “Here I thought we was friends! Ya dig the knife deep, hun.”

Something echoed in his mind, and Dhawsn blinked. He didn’t recognize the voice, but...”jokester”? Uh oh. Either he had an admirer (unlikely, not everyone was a connoisseur of his great puns), or Dhawsn was about to get mauled for his bad jokes at last. Well, if there was one way to die...