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Fifth Wher Clutch: Hatching
Topic Started: May 17 2014, 09:38 AM (3,467 Views)
Iradial
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MEDIOCRE
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The hatching was coming to a close. All eggs had hatched and all wherlings had begun to form tenuous bonds with their new handlers--all save one. Hamask and Arask's second and last egg still sat before Iyandrel, rocking away. The tardiness of the wherling, however, was no cause for concern; cracks riddled the surface of the shell, easing doubts of whether the wherling would hatch or not, and erasing them entirely when one down the center split wide open.

Out flopped a pale form, a loud squall working its way from his throat. His hide was a light sandy brown, but it appeared as if he had been trekking in mud by the marks on his feet. That same dark, dusty brown marked the fingers of his stunted wings and ran in a line from his snout, down his spine and all the way to the end of his tail. Vaioa's newest brown got to his feet, looked around wildly, and settled his gaze on a nearby bucket. Eyes widened as he caught a whiff of its contents.

At once, he pounced. Eeeeaaaaaaa! His weight and momentum nearly toppled the bucket, though he gave no notice of that, too engrossed in feeding to show any concern. Too engrossed, in fact, to realize that he'd crawled halfway into Iyandrel's lap. Finally he raised his head and twisted it around to blink in surprise at the woman looking down on him.

Oh! Apparently forgetting food, he climbed the rest of the way into her lap and propped his front feet up on her chest, claws pricking at the fabric, stretching out his head to sniff Iyandrel's face. He nosed her chin, leaving behind remnants of his gory meal. Iiiiiiii, iyaaaannnn, he sounded out slowly. Iiiiyansk. Iyansk! He wiggled excitedly.

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Iyansk
Enthusiastic, impulsive, curious
12
Iyandrel

a38053



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O'zen : Bronze Lenth
Lowen : Beryllium Lerriloth
Jerund : Brown Jerusk
Hama : Green Hamask
Eevai : Garnet Iopeth
Sh'ol : Graphite Hellioth
Kh'sev : Grey Saiyeth
Bervaidi : Blue Bervask
Syrsha : Brown Kalayth
Rosinthew : Candidate
Khola : Weyrfolk
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EbonyDusk
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Rosin grinned when Hama responded to his greeting. The woman certainly looked excited! That was good. When Jerund spoke up to tell him where to go his smile faltered slightly, the older Handler didn't look all that happy to be there. And the club he wielded sent a small chill down his spine. There was no mystery to why he had it and that was what made it sad. Pushing the negative thoughts to the back of his mind he got his bucket of food for his wher and knelt down in front of the large and misshapen egg. Rosin was surprised that he had been assigned one so big, not that he was going to complain.

While waiting he looked around the room as others arrived. Pertor got his attention the most as the man walked in. Everyone in the Hold knew the man and the many rumors Rosin had heard made him very curious about what was true and what was not. Pulling his eyes from the Masterminer they landed on someone even more interesting, at least to him. Alek was standing in the background as if trying to make himself less visible. Seeing him there watching made his stomach flutter and his smile brighten once again. He actually came to watch. Rosin knew better than to think it was JUST for him but still. It was pleasant to see.

Once everyone had arrived it seemed the eggs took that as their cue. The wobbling increased and soon cracks started to form on their surfaces. Rosin watched with great anticipation as the first wher broke its shell, a gorgeous little green. When it didn't meet an untimely end he glanced at Jerund who held the club curiously. Did they arrange for that to happen? If so then the minty looking green had the greatest of luck. Once she came to the world others followed quickly.

A brown, a blue, an a black...three amazing looking males. The black seemed far more reserved than the blacks he had seen around the Hold. When his own egg started to show signs of finally hatching the rest of room faded away. This was the moment he had been looking forward to since he paid the marks to be a candidate.

What emerged from the egg though hadn't been even close to what he had expected to get. His jaw dropped and hung there as he stared at the honey colored bronze. Rosin's mouth snapped shut though when he felt the presence of another touching his mind. It was confident and so self assured that he almost didn't think it came from the lumpy little creature in front of him. The aching hunger that rolled through him felt so strange, that would be something he had to get used to. Being 'hungry' but not... The way it hunched had him concerned but the worry was dim as he watched the strong steps it took. The demanding words were only responded with a jerky nod from Rosin as he watched the wher calling himself 'Rosk' slurp the mess down. The bump against his hand left a warm tingling on his skin.

A bronze. A bronze wher. It didn't mean exactly the same thing as bonding to a bronze dragon but it was still HUGE. It was to Rosin anyway. A bubble of deep pride rose up in his chest and the shock from before made way for the brightest smile in his life. It was then that Rosk pulled his head from the bucket, now completely empty, and turned his eyes shimmering green toward Rosin.

You feel very proud, is good. You be MINE. The confidence with which he said the words made Rosin laugh.

"Alright. Yours. Sounds good. You uh...ready to go?" Rosin still wasn't sure what he was doing now. He had a wher. What now?

Go. Yes. We go. Rosk full now. And with that the oddly shaped wher didn't even wait for Rosin before starting to waddle his way out of the room.

"Whoa! Wait for me!" He scrambled to his feet quickly and laughed again at the response he received.

No wait. Keep up. Rosin had a feeling he'd be 'keeping up' for a long time after this.
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Singer
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Tuelen had been so preoccupied with his time in the mind that the Hatching had completely flown from his mind. Glaring at his flitters he sighed, the little monsters were to have reminded him of important events, pestering him to the point of distraction and jogging his memory. Hurrying through the halls and into the Hatching Cavern he tried to catch his breath before joining the other Candidates. Since he was late he hadn't been expecting to be given an egg but was thankful nonetheless that he was given the privilege. It seemed that everything had been waiting on his arrival and the instant he'd settled before his egg they began hatching.

He didn't even raise his head to see what the other eggs revealed, his attention was solely on the egg he'd been given. It was a small egg, but even he knew great things came in small packages, after all he had Infran and it had been thought her egg had been a dud only to have the gorgeous little green appear. His mind had drifted off to when Infran had joined his little family when his egg began to hatch. It wasn't often that he smiled...but when he saw the little blue paw break through, soon to be followed by the palest Blue he'd ever seen in his life, he was a handsome little thing though.

Hunger, Tuelen heard and wondered it was the Blue or another Wher, he didn't dare look away from the Blue and chuckled as he came right up to him and butt his head against his shin. Feed? Tue… Tuelsk hunger.

"Of course you're hungry," Tuelen said as he sat himself in the sand and pulled the bucket over to him. Tuelsk watched him curiously, but patiently as he was soon offered the meat that was within. Tuelen had to stop him a few times to keep him from choking but soon the Blue was full to nearly bursting and draped himself in Tuelen's lap, out cold. The new Wherling couldn't help but smile and stroke his new Wher's back and head...he never thought he'd see this day, but was more then proud to have Tuelsk as his.
[align=center]J`uel of Grey Skelyth
Tuelen of Blue Tuelsk[/align]
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Pandion
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Iyandrel's mood only continued to sour as every single egg began to hatch--except for hers. A pale green was the first to emerge, and she watched with idle interest to see her waddle over to her chosen, only to look away again when the bonding was complete. Others came and went--a black, too, and thank all that was good that that monster wouldn't be her burden--and the young woman began to find herself rather disconnected from the whole affair.

She looked down at her egg, ignoring everything else that was going on, and glared at the wrinkly little shell.

Hatch, damn you, she willed, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Better do it soon, or I'm coming in there after you. Was it a dud? No--it moved, just as she was beginning to lose hope. A small crack appeared, and then suddenly burst apart to reveal a pale, cream-colored body which immediately began to look around the place and then pounced at the bucket, spilling its bloody, mushy contents everywhere!

She grimaced, recoiling back slightly from the mess as she sat and waited, observing the little thing as it crept around to... to absorb the meal, she guessed. When it touched her lap, she froze, near panic--but it had no teeth, only claws.

Oh!

Oh? ......Oh, she thought, watching the little creature clamor into her lap as she straightened up and attempted to lean away from it. He bumped his nose into her chin as he sniffed her, leaving a blot of bloody mess on her skin, and she crinkled her nose in annoyance.

Just as she went to reprimand the beast, however, she heard it begin to sound its name--and hers--in her mind. It was... the strangest sensation. Another being in her head, vaguely part of her...

She didn't like it. It was an odd sort of pressure, of... of violation...

Iiiiyansk. Iyansk! The little brown pronounced as he wiggled on her lap, his claws pressing lightly into her chest. His eyes were whirling bright as he met her gaze, tail swishing excitably.

Well... he was sort of cute, she supposed.

"Hello," she muttered at length, slowly lifting a hand to give the little beast a light pat on the head before gesturing feebly to the spilled bucket of food. "You... you should finish that, else you'll be complaining of an empty belly later. I'll have no whining."

Whiney whining! No whine, he sang, bumping his head against hers affectionately before hopping off of her lap and engorging himself on the bloody remnants of his meal. Iyansk and Iyansk's! Best.

Oh, Jays, it's like talking to an infant, she thought, a bemused scowl crossing her features once more. What on earth was she supposed to do with this... this toothless pile of flesh?

All gone! A sudden proclamation, which ended with a large baby wher flopping back into her lap with a wide yawn, startled her from her brooding. Iyansk like this. Best. Best, best, best.

In an instant, he was asleep. Iyandrel stared at him for a moment, and then looked up helplessly at the others--this wasn't at all the horrible, murderous hunting beast she had expected.

"Ex--excuse me? I think..." she began, her brow furrowing as she tried to attract the attention of anyone experienced with whers, "I think mine is broken?"

A soft, burbling snore punctuated her question-statement, and she blinked back down at the brown as he squirmed in his sleep. Well... she supposed she was stuck with it, now. No helping what weird animal decided to bond to you, one supposes.

Slowly, after several moments passed, she reached down to gently stroke the little thing as it slept, unable to hide the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

Iyansk, hm? Well... perhaps it won't be so bad.
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Heijale
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Emlyn watched as more and more people arrived. She should've expected as much, but with every new person came another wave of nervousness. She tried to take her mind off of the fact that all this people could very possibly be staring at her in the very near future by taking the bucket of blood porridge she was offered and went about adding her own blood to the mixture. She knew that such a thing helped in making the bond between wher and wherhandler stronger, and that was something she wanted to do, if she was lucky enough to walk away with a wher this night. Shaking the thought from her mind, she took a small knife from her pocket, made a small slit in the palm of her hand, then proceeded to add a little of it to the porridge.

The hatching, however, started soon enough. The first one to hatch was quite a small egg, and the occupant definitely seemed to be taking its time. The occupant was.... white? No, she was actually a very, very light green, and she was very vocal. She seemed to take her time finding her's, and when she did, Emlyn couldn't help but smile. She did the same with the brown that came next, and the blue after him. She had braced herself for a moment, expecting it to be a green that would not get to see much more than a second of life, but luck was on its side. Her attention was drawn, then, by a black hatching and she could only think of Visk and Visala. The bronze that came next worried her a touch, with his slight hump, but he appeared to be mobile despite it and that relieved her.

Next, however, was the egg that was designated as her's. She felt all eyes on her as the egg began to shake, but for the first time, she really couldn't care. This wher, the one designated for her, was hatching. The blood that fell out was the most beautiful, fantastic thing she'd ever seen. She was relieved that it hadn't been a green, as she didn't know what she'd do if it had been culled right in front of her. Instinct kicked in, and she instantly offered the hatchling the bucket of bloody gruel. After having her knees headbutted, she got to hear his voice. Emmy? Emlyy? Emlyyy! Your Emlysk is hungry! She scrambled to make her new charge happy and held the bucket out to him. He dug in, ravenous, and it took nearly all her strength to hold the bucket. She grinned at the Good, good, yum, that came from the munching blood. When he'd settled in his eating, she ran a hand over the red head near her lap.

In her joy over Emlysk, she missed the hatching of a blue and, lastly, of a brown. Her attention was completely and utterly on the new addition to her life. Quite simply, she could not be happier. She didn't care how unhappy her father would be (although maybe it would make him happy to have her out of his hair) or the fact that she would now have to become more social with other wherhandlers. All that mattered was Emlysk. All that mattered to her was this creature that was now climbing --no, more like hopping-- into her lap, gruel drooling from his gummy mouth. She was beginning to see that everything he did, he did quick and with excitement. The same was true with him falling asleep in her lap, somehow. A smile threatened to break her face in half when she heard Comfy soft Emlyn, yes, as he drifted off to sleep. She rested a hand on him and held back tears. This was truly the happiest day of her life.
[align=center]Green Flit Sion Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImageBrown Flit Sif * Green Flit Teeker[/align]

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Sankal, whose attention was fixed raptly upon the eggs as they began to rock in earnest, did not notice his sister’s entrance; Hilfy, who had been keeping an eye out, did. She remained by Visala, for a spell, thinking that if she moved too quickly she might spook the woman; best to let her get settled, before approaching, if she was anything like Sankal. Once she’d decided a sufficient span of time had passed, however, she abandoned one perch for a second, nearer to the brownrider, and settled down with a conspicuous rustling of her wings and a cheep to serve as a ‘hello’. She hadn’t yet decided how she felt about the woman and her relationship to Sankal, and so she would remain on the defensive for the time being, but she nevertheless wanted to make her approval known – Sankal hadn’t been anticipating, or expecting, Raisa’s attendance, but Hilfy had expectations of her own, and they were far more exacting than his. She knew her silly boy would be pleased when he eventually spotted his sister in the audience, just as she knew he sometimes regretted not being present to witness Khorinth’s hatching, and so she in turn was happy to see the brownrider among the event’s spectators. It had not, of course, occurred to her that Raisa might neither be seeking nor striving for her brother’s pet’s approval.

Sankal was entirely unaware of his firelizard’s antics, and indeed of the crowd that had assembled in the Hatching chamber, for it was at that precise moment that a little green became the first to break shell. Her pale coloring was striking, and Sankal watched, fascinated, as she very vocally explored her immediate surroundings, which eventually included the Candidate she was intended for, and who she (apparently) successfully bonded with. Oblivious to the broad grin that he now sported, his curiosity didn’t abate as a brown, and then a blue, joined their sister, ravenous and slimy with… whatever it was they all seemed to be coated with from inside their eggs. They weren’t attractive creatures, precisely, but their mannerisms and their angry little faces were endearing in their own way, and his smile remained at megawatt status even as the egg set before him began to shake and crumble.

The paw that first smashed through its makeshift prison was dark, the hatchling’s color unmistakable from the start, and Sankal felt his eyes widen in incredulity. Images of Visk, tearing by him at impressive speeds and looking enormous and intimidating and a little bit goofy in his protective goggles, ran through his head even as this smaller specimen clawed his way out into the cavern. He hadn’t been able to see Visk’s eyes, during that first encounter, but the little red ones that now regarded him were wary and alarmingly perceptive, suspicious and skeptical. A sudden shock echoed through him, a new awareness of his responsibilities, of the potential consequences of this thing he’d embarked on – whers weren’t like dragons, really, were they? This little beast would only be as dependent on him as it allowed, as it wanted. And already there was enough of a connection sparking between them that he could feel the wherlet’s apprehension, his cautious scrutiny of the human that stood (figuratively) between him and his first meal. This was something he was going to have to work on, a relationship he’d have to build very carefully, and he wasn’t entirely confident in his own ability to do it well.

In the end, however, his surprise and the misgivings assailing him had mere moments to whittle away at his resolve – no more than a second or two passed before the little black drew closer, unhurried enough to maintain a bit of dignity as he found his legs, and Sankal’s mind went entirely blank save for a confused amazement. There wasn’t, he found, much he needed to do at that point – as the wher proclaimed that the food was good. This good, and he felt the strange strength of their new connection fully (a pressure in his mind, an empty feeling in his own stomach) he simply watched and held the bucket steady as Sansk feasted.

“Glad you like it.” He heard himself say, voice strained and a touch higher-pitched than normal. And then, because he really didn’t know what he was meant to say at this juncture, and he wanted to try the name out for himself:
“It’s good to meet you, Sansk.” The wher didn’t pause in his attempts to crawl into the bucket that Sankal still strove to steady – if Sansk knocked it over, Faranth forbid, he’d never get the bloody slop out of his clothes – but he did feel something approximating approval, warm and steady and not his own. From Sansk, then – a guarded contentedness he must be feeling through their bond. His expression of shock gradually faded into another, uninhibited grin, as he patiently waited for the little black to finish eating. At length, Sansk relented, and settled down on his pleasantly full belly. He did not move to nuzzle his new handler, but he did reach a single forepaw forward to rest against Sankal’s leg, and pronounced: Done now.

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Elmi & Garnet Basteth | Az'riel & Copper Liyanth
Singrid & Copper Wiliath | J'nai & Brown Elokith
Caylan & Grey Parath | El'jir & Blue Morrith
Savka & Blue Ripariath | N'din & Green Ingalath
J'phel & Black Davoth | I'vend & Graphite Rerioth
Sankal & Black Sansk | Avry & Blue Ask

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swampcreature
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Sylp had been warned to listen for the hatching. Since moving into a spare room in the wherhandler’s quarters she had been privy to all sorts of strange new commotion, but much to her disappointment the eggs continued to lay motionless in their sandy bed. The clutchmother had not been tolerant of guests so she was left with nothing more than the masterminer’s promise that she might soon secure a wher with a healer’s temperament. Nothing was guaranteed, of course. Eggs failed to hatch all the time, and she had been offered the smallest of a young gray’s abandoned first clutch. She did not feel like the odds were in her favor.

Hama's announcement and subsequent bang on the door sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. It was finally time to find out if her generous sharing of the pipe had earned her something useful from Pertor. Her bountiful harvests of exotic and expensive herbs had already proven her worth to the healers, and a wher would cement her place in their ranks regardless of her lack of knots. Of course, that was assuming she didn't wind up empty handed -or worse, with an aggressive beast. Sylp was no fighter. She would be very poorly suited to a place in the ranks of the wher troop.

Sylp slipped into the room silently, wordlessly taking her assigned place near her tiny egg and watching the proceedings with a most curious stare. Her ugly little wrinkled egg rocked gently, a good sign, but showed no signs of breaking shell any time soon. She let her eyes wander over the others who were gathered together in the dimly-lit room. The air was tense and crowded with emotion. She saw faces drawn with anticipation; others were beaming with excitement. She eyed Jerund and his club with a worried frown, knowing that only one female would be spared its heavy fall.

As the first hatchling took her sweet time breaking free of her shell, Sylp's anxiety grew dramatically. A green. A pale, almost sickly-looking little thing. Her eyes darted to the motionless man with the club. He made no move to cull the thing so it must have appeared normal and healthy to the others. She worried while she stood and waited, feeling very little second-hand excitement as the other handlers impressed their new charges. She kept imagining a tiny second green being dashed to its death against the unforgiving sands.

It was an unpleasant image, so she pushed it from her mind and refocused her attention on her egg. It was moving more, now. She savored the adrenaline rush that its rocking was eliciting in her, her mouth twisting into a delighted smile as the shell split cleanly in half and a bright blue baby boy bounded towards her. Relief immediately flooded her entire being, further intensified by the hatchling's playful energy. He did not seem to have the temperament of a fighter.

Sysk friend! Sysk friend! Sysk friend!

The moment of impression caught Sylp by surprise. Her awareness was suddenly broadened. When the little blue wherling’s consciousness met hers she noticed the various smells of the hatching around her as if for the very first time. The pails of soupy bloodmeal were remarkably alluring, appetizing even.

To look around the room would have been disorienting with so much going on in the small space, but she had no eyes for anything other than this darling newborn creature calling out for her, clawing up her workclothes, and mouthing her hands affectionately. Sylp smiled in delight at the warm lapping waves of awareness that were so distinctly her little Sysk seeping into her core, only now beginning to feel the empty sympathy pains of her wherling’s hungry belly.

She crouched automatically as he began rolling his eggwet hide in swaths of hatching sands, righting him on his feet before he could don a full coat of grit or express any real frustration about his own clumsiness. Hungry now, Sysk friend! He insisted, eyes roving and short neck craning to find the source of the tantalizing smell that hung in the air. Help Sysk? He inquired, butting up against her legs in eager anticipation.

"I have meat for you, my little friend," She cooed, pushing the bucket of well-masticated slop toward Sysk’s toothless maw and holding it steady for him. The wherling responded with an appreciative squawk before burying his face in the mess and slurping at it greedily.

As he ate, Sylp’s mind was whirling. How did this newly hatched wher have an innate sense of the concept of friendship? How did he ascertain her intentions and know that she was not a threat? Where did the trust come from? Her thoughts strayed toward the pale female wherling, and the knowing that she carried in her heart about what would have happened had Sysk been a second green.

Sylp watched him reach the bottom of his bucket and paw it a bit, looking up to her as if for reassurance. “What a good boy, Sysk!” she supplied readily, brushing down his soft fresh hide with her hands to remove some of the sand. Sysk was quite oblivious to the dirt, more interested in winding through her legs and hands to eagerly receive whatever love she wished to show for him.

Her gratitude spilled over at the chance to dabble in the reality of a human/beast psychic communication and partnership and she welcomed Sysk’s obvious emanations of satiety and contentment.
Wherhandler Slyp of Blue Sysk
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Tyronic
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[Late late late post. Many sorries.]

Eirabess collected the bucket of wher chow, and went to settle by the egg she’d been assigned. It was a largish one, from Crom. Those were reputed to be good, strong beasts, so she was pleased. What she was wondering – though she didn’t let it show on her face – was if it was luck to have gotten this egg or if it was intended to be a slight of some sort that these Vaioans hadn’t given her one of their home-grown wherlets.

Not those Vaioans, anymore. We Vaioans. She reminded herself, as she looked dispassionately into the bucket of bloody porridge, that she was in this for good now. No backing out and no wandering off in the night to appear somewhere else in a sevenday as someone else entirely.

The egg before her was beginning to crack, but nearby one had hatched. The tiny pale green wherling – she almost thought it was white at first – was cute and ugly at the same time. Her eyes flicked back to her egg and she watched the emergence of a brown that dwarfed the baby green.

Rrrrrrrr! he roared, and Eira’s mask cracked, letting a bit of a smile seep through. He was like a child pretending to be a fierce beast, and when the toothless infant fell upon the bucket of meaty mush she held, she couldn’t help but love the lumpy little guy. He must have felt her attention, because he broke off from his first meal long enough to claim her as his and announce his name and his bonding to her.

Eirabess and Eirask. Eira and Eirask. Eira and the little rascal. She wondered what Eirask would be like when he grew up. Would he say more than one word to her at a time? She could feel when the wher finished the mash.

More. Eirask demanded, his ember eyes now glowing at her over the rim of the bucket.

“You ate it all. No more.”

More. Eirask insisted.

“Soon.” Eirabess countered. This – or the weight in his gut – seemed to placate him, and Eira was pretty sure she could feel the meal’s soporific effects dragging the newly-hatched towards sleep. He bumbled forward and leaned against her, smearing more blood on her already stained pants.

Mine. He yawned, showing off his impressive lack of teeth. She’d expected to have to worry about her new companion trying to bite her, but it appeared that this was not going to be a problem – at least not yet. She did hope that her new partner’s vocabulary would grow quickly beyond four-letter M-words and his name. She knew that a wher didn’t need to be a brilliant conversationalist to get his job done, but she couldn’t help but hope that hers at least had interesting things to say… eventually.
Athden - Candidate
Eirabess - Brown Eirask (B87333)
Myriani - Grey Ielayth (A7777A) - Blue Ket
R'os - Blue Burath (6699CC)
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