The mother of this hatching, Ignis, was standing above her eggs, worried only slightly, and extremely excited. Zionbosch, the father and the native, was close by, as some sires were wont to be. He looked just as excited as the partial-glitz mother, shifting from foot to foot, grinning up at the audience, and shooting looks to his bond and the young woman who was Ignis' chosen.
The candidates had already filed into the bay, and Siche herself had given the motley group their instructions. A number of others, 'sponsors', Siche had dubbed them, waited nearly as anxiously in the stands with the rest of the crowd, hoping to be lucky enough to bring an unbonded dragon back home with them. Linaeas highly doubted there would be any free-roaming dragonets today... the mutts of Star City did very poorly without a stabilizing second mind... he doubted that if there did happen to be a hatchling that wouldn't bond, it would survive very long at all.
The Archivist set his list of candidate names scrolling across his vision, one last time, as the group huddled in an excited knot before the quaking eggs. Everything from 'Botril' to 'Zer' rained across his cyborware-semi-helmet, accompanied by quickly taken information. Normally he'd just have asked their names as they bonded... but this time was special.
His attention was draw back to the hatching as one egg gave a particularly violent shudder, shifted on the moss, and crashed against one of its nearby brethren. Both shells exploded with black crack lines, and quickly thereafter, two sopping dragonets fell to the sands. The parents crooned to their first borns, their voices almost playful, urging the hatchlings to get to their feet. The first dragonet, a green that glimmered gently under the hatching-bay's lights, got to her feet with only the slightest hint of awkwardness. Her entire body was covered with streamer-like stripes, in shades of red, turquoise and purple... and she had definitely carried over that partial-glitz shimmer that her mother displayed. The hatchling stood for only a moment, head high over her shoulders as she tried to hide her disorientation, and then she moved out.
Her crimson eyes scanned through the knot of candidates, discarding one after the other as if they were below her. And then she looked up. Cael'kinta-n'ume, a draconic creature from far away, stared down at the little hatchling. He had shrunk down to only a fraction of his original titanic mass, and still he dwarfed the rest of the candidates. The green gave him a nod, as if he would do, and the both of them wandered towards Linaeas and the hatchling's first meal. "Her name is Oqijacutesimet," the great black creature said, his voice rumbling as he addressed the Archivist.
The wolfen-creature grinned. "That's a mouthful," he attempted to joke, but the hatchling gave him such a spiteful look that he had to apologize. This is why he didn't talk at hatchings...
The second dragonet, a red, with simple white stripes up his forearms, had meanwhile been searching the ranks of candidates, but to no avail. He mewled to no one in particular, and literally stumbled over his own tail when one candidate took a step forward to help him. The little thing had wandered from one side of the semi-circle shaped knot of candidates to the other, and could not find anyone to his liking...
There's food here, Linaeas heard his own bond, Taxoness, reach out to the hatchling with his alien mind. Despite the fact that his bond could hardly be called a dragon, and that he rarely thought on the same terms as regular creatures, Taxoness knew hatchlings. And this one, both of them presumed, was not going to find his bond here today. Don't be afraid, dragonet. You will find someone if you find someone.
The hatchling came like a magnet towards Taxoness' gentle-sounding voice, drawn also by the appetizing food. Soon he was through the candidates, and Linaeas lowered his head to the unbonded creature. The semi-shimmery red stopped for a second, afraid that perhaps the Archivist meant him harm, but then Tax' explained the naming ritual, and he looked more at ease. Quietly, almost like a whisper, the hatchling said, I'm Lyge... and passed the Master to reach the food bowl.
In all this time, three more eggs had cracked, shattered, and rolled their ways to hatching. Linaeas brought his attention back to the new-borns, amused that they seemed to be appearing in groups. One dragonet, a lime-green glitzy female, was just shaking her wings out, while a modestly brown-striped orange peered at the gathered candidates suspiciously. A remarkable blue-white dragonet with tiger-like orange stripes had rolled on to his back, and was staring at the potential bonders with a goofy draconic grin.
The green, despite the fact that she'd hatched the most recently, moved first. She trotted (albeit with a wobbly gait) into the midst of the candidates, looking from one to another, and then another, as if each of them fascinated her more then the last. Finally, she stumbled to a stop before one pale-skinned human female, her blue eyes wide with amazement. The human, Praena, as Linaeas recalled, looked down at the hatchling in mild surprise. The dragonet made a semi-snort-giggling noise as the two of them exchanged words, and the bond was set. When they came back to the feeding table, Praena grinned at shook her head. "She says she thinks her name is Dumeecoe."
Back on the sands, the orange hadn't moved from his spot, insisting on giving each and every single hopeful bonder the evil eye. The blue, however, was now rocking to his feet, looking as if he might, perhaps, choose someone. One of the candidates stepped forward, this time; a hyena-like anthro with one bad eye, Ral'gi'naan stopped before the striped-blue. "Well, what are you waiting around for?"
The dragonet stared up at him for only a moment, then was scrambling to his feet. They reached the back table in record time, nearly forgetting Linaeas in the process. The Archivist interrupted their feeding, but rag-clad anthro grunted only "Palydoch," before returning to shoving bits of meat in the eager hatchling's mouth.
With five dragonets hatching, and four bonded, that left only three to go. There were, by now, many more candidates then eggs, and some of those gathered began to look a little dispirited. The last two eggs hatched nearly simultaneously, unceremoniously dumping their two occupants only the warm ground. Both were fairly well opposites of one another: the first, a tope-coloured dragonet with black siamese-points and yellow stripes, twisted from his awkward pose into a half-crouched position, his freshly damp muzzle already split in a grin. The second, a red female with black wings and stripes, took her time in getting her balance. She, like the rest of them, sported the partial-glitz colours of her mother. The orange, who'd been watching all this time, still made no move towards the candidates or anyone else, for that matter.
The last of the seven hatchlings gave the candidates a looking over, each in their own ways. The red, her brick-coloured eyes narrowed as she scanned the crowd, finally settled on one in particular. With deliberate, measured strides, she approached the Ytlip, Lorry. With a slight flaring of her wings, the dragonet had chosen.
"She calls herself Ekesiyu," the large-eyed, pale-skinned female told Linaeas, her voice no more then a whisper. Even so, it made the Archivist's skin crawl. He nodded, glad to see them at the feeding table, and out of his responsibility.
Lin'? Taxoness interrupted the Archivist's relief, the orange says he doesn't want to bond, but he doesn't want to come to the table, either.
What? The Archivist gave the orange hatchling a harder look, which was returned with a pointed glare. Tell him he doesn't have to bond, but he does have to eat...
I... have. He says he'll only come over if the candidates don't come near him.
Linaeas cocked one ear back, confused.
Tell him to skirt the grounds, if need be. At least get his name from him?
Hoshal... Taxoness' mind-voice was just as perplexed. Finally, the orange slunk towards one wall, avoiding his parents, the candidates, and the various stares from the crowd. When he reached the food dishes, where the others ate, he dragged one bowl off the table and, having dumped the meat on the ground away from the others, gobbled ravenously.
The brown, last on the sands, was having the time of his life, a huge grin plastered over his muzzle as he debated something or other with his sire. When he realized that he was last on the sands, however, he returned his attention to the candidates. One of the larger dragonets, he spread his wings as he trotted into the anxious knot of bonders, seemingly taking them all in with a double-winged waving gesture. He didn't seem to notice that most of the candidates around were wearing strained or apathetic expressions, hoping or having lost hope that they would bond today.
He grinned at a few, paused at a few others, but before long, he'd stopped before Kang, the panda-human. With a pointed grin back to his sire, the dragonet gazed up with sparkling red eyes at his new bond. They returned to the table, the last to bond. Kang was already laughing when they reached Linaeas, but he spared enough time to point out the browns name: "Nahigicu," he said, the name pronounced amidst another sudden laugh as the hatchling spoke something else. Linaeas nodded, a grin on his own muzzle.
The remaining candidates, disheartened, began to step off the sands. The crowd, of course, was abuzz with talk over the hatchlings, and over who bonded who.
Now it was the sponsors' turn. Some of them nearly pounced on Siche, who'd been standing aside, opposite Linaeas from the feeding table. The wolfen-creature chuckled as the Minister tried to calm down the hopeful sponsors, and watched patiently as the haggling ensued.
After some time, Siche dismissed the small crowd, a sour look on her face. She stalked over to the Master Archivist, and announced to no one in particular, "There's got to be an easier way to do this."
"I expect with only two dragonets, and a gaggle like that, that there isn't any easier way." Linaeas gave her a sympathetic grin, to which she simply crossed her arms and lashed her tail. "So," he asked with a gentle voice, "Who's got who?"
"Dragonwillow's got Lyge," Siche said, releasing a long sigh, "And... Gin, wait, Mythicalae's got that creepy orange hatchling, Hoshal."
"Right, thank you."
"No problem..." Siche finally let an evil grin slip past her muzzle, "at least they won't be our problem."