Trace and Hal's Clutch

Jenna - Sunday, March 24, 2002, 9:12 AM
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Fort Weyr Bowl, by the lake
This long stretch of the bowl lies to the southeast of the feeding grounds. At its western end, near the wall, the ground dips down slightly to where a lake has formed. Dragons are often washed there by their riders, and both riders and their dragons often swim in the cool waters.
The fenced off portion of the bowl for the Weyr's herds is to the northwest. To the north, a small structure built against the feeding ground pens serves as the Weyr's stables. Waves gently lap the shore to the west, and the rest of the bowl lies to the northeast.
Contents:
Jenylle

Jenna is sitting on a rock, rather morosely guarding a basket piled high with sand and a single, solitary egg. She's watching all the activity and bustle with an unusual frown.

Creased Cream Egg :gives a slight, almost unnoticable twitch.

"Varien, Mona!?" Jenylle hollars, a noticable pout forming on her lower lip as her search turns up empty. The pout quickly fades as she spots Jenna. Skipping forward cheerfully, she stops before the sullen courier. "Whassa matter?" she muses thoughtfully.

Jenna looks up at the shout, and then grins faintly, "You looking for someone, Jeny? -- Oh, I'm fine. Just tired. Been a busy sevenday." She shifts, moving one of the skipping stones held in her hand. "What're you up to today?"

Creased Cream Egg shudders quietly, working steadily to unbury itself with a minimal amount of fuss. Grains of sand trickle off from the shell as a quiet crackling and chipping sound can be heard.

Jenylle jumps back a tad as the basket twitches. She peers at the basket with curious eyes. "You see that?" she says through giggles. "Yeah, my friends and I were playing tag earlier and Ma called me away to finish cleaning my press out again." She shrugs with an innocent grin. The chipping noises are noted though, and she crouches down by the basket. "Hey, something's alive in there!"

Jenna blinks a bit as her attention is called to the basket. "Oh, fardles - and don't you dare tell Zinnia I said that in front of you. You stay here. Let me go run get some scraps from the cooks." She uncoils from the rock like a spring, dropping the stones, and reaching to pull a bit of dried fish out of her pocket. "If it hatches before I get back, give it one of Hal's treats."

Creased Cream Egg is now starting to wiggle in earnest, as the hatchling inside batters at the shell to get *out*! Working its way free from the sand, is rolls around the basket, but doesn't find anything hard to knock against and give it some aid in hatching.

"Ok!" Jenylle replies, an anxious look on her face. "Ack!WhaddIdo?" she calls out as Jenna disappears and the egg begins rolling about furiously.

Jenylle keeps her proximity though, she's not want to miss a hatching for anything.

Creased Cream Egg is making the oddest noises. The chipping has given way to an odd scratching, grinding sound, as bits flake off the shell.

Creased Cream Egg groans and grinds with an ugly noise as it shakes back and forth wildly. Surely it can't keep this up very long--and it doesn't. With an odd little sigh, the shell cracks open and the hatchling rolls out.

This little blue is the epitome of style and elegence. The majority of his hide is wrapped in cool blue clouds that have tinges of aquamarine in them, swirling and mixing to form a pleasant amalgam of color. Paler hints of cream tinge and hilight his wingspars, drawing powdery streaks down his wingsails that seem almost chrome in hue when exposed to direct sunlight. That slithery touch of cream is echoed along his neck ridges, deepening to a warm steel blue that sends feelers streaming down to his very tail tip. Talons are touched with the barest hint of ebony, and even this is dotted with that sparkling, silvery touch, blending the shades into a velvety, starlit sky. When he speaks, it seems he has inherited his sire's raspy voice, for it stutters and grinds unevenly.
(Credit: Jenna Inspiration: Jenna's roomie's 1976 Ford Mustang - he learned to drive stick on it, thus the grinding of the gears in his voice. )

Jenna runs up just as the little blue tumbles out, a bowl of scraps grudgingly donated from the cooks, whose bellows of 'We don't have time' could be heard all the way from the other side of the lake. She plops the bowl down at Jeny's feet and says, "Just feed it. I'm sure not going to - I don't wnat another one!"

Powdered Chrome Blue Hatchling is all dusty with sand, and very nearly rolls himself right out of the basket. Eyes red with hunger, he creels impatiently, a grinding, tearing sort of sound that may grate on the nerves. Little head peers over the edge of the basket, looking down at the ground. Woah! That's a long way off.

"But...But...Ma said I can't..." Jenylle begins, although, seeing the hungry little blue melts away her reservation. She hurriedly and anxiously takes a scrap from the bowl, dangling the juicy strip of meat out for the hungry hatchling as he safely makes it to the ground. "Oooh, here ya go little guy," she says in a soft, whispy soothing voice.

Jenna folds her arms and even takes a step back. "I'll work it out with Zinnia, don't worry." She mumbles under her breath, "Glad it's not a green."

Powdered Chrome Blue Hatchling gets distracted by that meat in his break for the ground, egg gooped wings half spread. As a result he stumbles and plows right into the earth. Shaking his head almost comically, he gives an impatient rusty-sounding bleat, and staggers up again, reaching and snapping at the meat. Watch those fingers!

Jenylle pulls her hand back a bit, giggling as the hatchling snatches voraciously for the meat. Although, after a moment's caution she thrusts another strip of meat with her other hadn, using the meats to observe the goop that drips from his wingtips. "What's that juice all over him?" she murmers softly, not wishing to frighten him. "Eat up," she coaxes softly, "It's good for your muscles."

Powdered Chrome Blue Hatchling doesn't seem to be frightened in the least. He gives another stuttering croon, extending his wings for balance as he devours the next bite. Bobbing a little, he tries to maintain his balance, and makes it - for the most part at least, weaving a trifle erratically.

Jenna ventures, "Egg slime? That's what we used to call it as candidates when it was on the dragons. Dragon eggs are kinda like wherry eggs, I guess? They eat up all the yolk inside while they're growing and then hatch starved." Likely an oversimplistic view, but it's a guess nonetheless.

"Ohh, so no wonder he's so hungry, he was almost outta food and now he's wearing what's left of it," the girl giggles. "I wonder what egg slime tastes like," she mutters, as if asking the hatchling himself. She gets a little more confidence as he's not so snappy this time, offering out another drippy meatstirp. Wriggle wriggle. She makes the meat come to life as it dances at her fingertips.

Powdered Chrome Blue Hatchling has apparently had enough of being fed piecemeal. He totters straight up to Jeny, taking the last bit and looking up at her with eyes that now shift to heart's own blue, the hunger taking a backseat for the moment.

Powdered Chrome Blue Hatchling stumbles towards Jenylle.

Jenylle beams, warmth trickling over her as the blue approaches. "Awww, he's so beautiful," Jenylle says whimsically as she reaches down with accepting arms. "Wait'll Varien and Mona hear what they missed," she says excitedly.

Jenna watches indulgently, coming forward to see the little thing better now that there's no danger of having him look to her. "He's a handsome little thing. Sounds just like Hal did when he hatched though." A pause and then she asks, "You know how to take care of him, don't you?"

Jenylle deftly picks up the tiny hatchling, cupping it supportively against her chest. "Well, I help Zinnia with hers and all so yup. I'm just not sure how much you feed it when it's still so little. I guess he'll be hungry lots 'cause he's growing?" she asks in a thoughtful manner.

Jenna nods. "He'll likely eat every four hours - just like a baby. Make sure you at least have some dried fish or something on hand to quiet him down. There's a pouch of it in the top compartment of my press, and you can get more from stores. And you know about bathing, and oiling. He should start to itch fairly soon. And he'll be able to fly as soon as his wings dry."

"Wow, that soon!" Jenylle says, amazement touching her voice. "I can't wait to watch him. I'll sit here on the shore and watch him fly all over." She looks up at the sky with a dreamer's eyes and then turns her glance back on Jenna. "Yup, I'll make sure he gets the attention for his itchy skin." She pauses thoughtfully. "I wonder what I should name him."