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Date Posted: 21:46:40 12/01/04 Wed
Author: T'gan & Chuth, Kestor
Subject: >Look who's back!<
In reply to: D'ctor - Whoth ( Romana and Adric ) 's message, "Yow!" on 17:06:43 11/30/04 Tue

Thankfully, word seems to have spread about the Weyr, and while the curious have assailed those in the know, most non-Candidates have heard of Wessae's pronouncement and stayed clear of the Hatching Sands, making T'gan's job much easier. The quiet man is leaning against the main doorway, gently turning away curiousity-seekers and helpful kitchen workers, and ushering in the few Candidates that have so far appeared. Kestor is curled sleepily on his shoulder, tail tucked under the man's mousy brown ponytail for warmth; the initial excitement of Sands-guarding has worn the brown firelizard out, and now he's waiting for curious firelizards to actually appear before chasing them away. Then a dragon's trumpet rings through the Bowl, and T'gan's head jerks up as Kestor chirps inquisitively. The bronzerider peers at the ridge, but while he can see the looming shape of a dragon there, he can't quite identify it in the dim light of dusk. He squints in vain, then addresses his dragon. /Chuth, who just arrived? I can't tell./

Chuth's wings rustle as he twists to look at the ridge as well, his faceted eyes whirling to bring the other bronze into focus. It's Whoth! he exclaims. D'ctor must finally be back. Shifting to better overlook the Bowl, the bronze rests his head against the cool rock of the heights. At this point, he doesn't think he's going to get much sleep for a while. Too many questions and too much commentary are flying around.

/I wonder where they've been,/ T'gan remarks to his dragon, not really expecting an answer. Then the battered-looking D'ctor enters the light, and the younger man smiles reflexively in response to those eyes and the relief of the older bronzerider's appearance. "The Weyr was wondering where you'd gotten to," he admits. "It's good to see you back; we were worried you might have left us permanently. This," he goes on, in response to D'ctor's question, "is a Hatching. A small Hatching. One of the greens, G'rein's Grenith, flew before she chewed firestone." As he explains, his face twists very slightly. He can't quite avoid the ingrained sense of wrongness at the thought of a green clutch, any more than his dragon can. Whether his prejudice influenced Chuth's opinion, or the bronze's reaction influenced his, is unclear and irrelevant; neither of them are overjoyed about this Hatching. Then Kestor cheeps curiously at D'ctor, recalling T'gan to the moment. "The Weyrwoman said Grenith needed to be kept stress-free, and mentioned having someone on watch to keep out casual intruders, so I volunteered." He shrugs fluidly. It hadn't quite been volunteering as such, but he can't think of a better word.

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