In The Fullness Of Time (Open!)

[Tabula Rasa]

Summer clutches were an interminable bother. The heat of the sands was overwhelming at any point, but when added to the weight of the season's warmth, it was almost more than one could bear. Aderes twitched at her thin cotton skirt (colored Telgar's white with black embroidery around hem and waist) and tried to ignore the noises of merrymaking that were wafting in from the bowl. She turned her attention to the burnished queen coiled on the sands, eying an egg that managed to situate itself a little away from the others. Her golden prize had already been nudged to a spot near her paws. Some queens would set their progeny on display, but Pelegaoth had chosen to bury hers, leaving no more than a vague lump where the gold egg rested.

I don't know how you do it, Aderes mused, and not for the first time. I could never manage lying on something so hot for so long.

That's because you're not a dragon, Pelegaoth answered patiently.

Even knowing what the gold would say, Aderes had to strain a little to 'hear' it. The queen's communications were peripheral. They hovered in the corner of one's thoughts, ghosted along the edges. It felt more like Aderes had recalled something herself, a thought just remembered, than that she was being spoken to. In the turns that she and Pelegaoth had been together, the Weyrwoman had become accustomed to the sensation.

I suppose so. The woman's pale lips quirked upward a tiny bit into a smile seen by no one but the glows and the dragon on the sands. You couldn't have waited until summer's end to rise? It would have been autumn by the time you clutched, then.

Pelegaoth said nothing. She only fixed her slowly whirling gaze on her rider and refused to blink. They both knew full well the reasons of when she'd flown and why. Aderes cleared her throat and twitched her skirts a second time. What do you suppose they're doing out there?

Whatever it is they do every turn. There will be tales at breakfast.

Yes. The Weyrwoman leaned back on the bench and tried to imagine a gust of cooler air drifting across her face and over her shoulders. It was, she told herself, nearly as good as the real thing. Sometimes, one simply had to make do.

[grey]

The galleries benefited from some distance from the blazing sands, but even so that breeze in Aderes' imagination would have been a welcome thing. This relative coolness may have been a blessing or a curse though, encouraging people to sit and peer when the Weyrwoman and her brooding gold might have appreciated the chance to simmer in private.

Such consideration occurred to few people - most thought a view of the sands their right, or for a few slightly more conscientious, their privilege. A clutch was a public thing, a matter of pride and esteem to have eggs on the sand, even if the most notable among them remained a grit-hidden lump near burnished paws.

Isra was among those who considered a peek at a gold and her clutch a privilege. It showed in her silence and the careful way she picked her path up the stairs, booted feet quiet against warm stone. It showed itself in the way she chose a seat near the front but far away from the entrance, so other spectators might take the center seats without making their way past or over her. It wasn't her first time seeing eggs - Fort Weyr was a frequent stop for her caravan and a time or two they caught hardening eggs there. It was, however the first time at Telgar, the first time to see Pelegaoth and her tall blond rider on sands at a Weyr that sheltered her and her people. It was respect more than awe though - the situation so far removed from her own life that it became almost surreal.

Isra might have been unobtrusive, but aiming for it defeated the purpose. She had to climb up a step to miss one person, clamber over the seats back down to miss another, and trying to get situated in her own seat involved a decent bit of getting situated-related noise. In the end she just dropped down in her seat, faintly sheepish looking as she tucked a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Dark brown eyes sought the Weyrwoman, but hoped to find her too distracted to make note of the interrupting interloper

[Tabula Rasa]

Such obtrustive unobtrusiveness was noted, if not by the pale figure in the stands, then certainly by the narrow dragon down below. With the commotion outside and the the time of day, there were precious few observers. One more, especially a child belonging to the wandering people, was not something Pelegaoth would permit herself to miss. The little one will fall, if she keeps scrambling.

I doubt it. Aderes tucked a bit of hair behind her own ear as a means to tilt her head enough that she could steal a peek at Isra. They're a hardy people.

With break-proof necks?

The words skittered along so subtly and so softly that the Weyrwoman nearly missed them. Even when they were caught, she had thought, for a moment, they were her own idle musing gone wayward. One hand lifted so her fingers could brush against her lips as she realized and resisted a smile.

"Come here," she called to the girl who flopped with a certain amount of resigned defeat into her spot. "Come sit by me. I don't think your family would be too pleased to find you so near her eggs. Better, I think, if you can say you were simply minding manners. A Weyrwoman is not to be denied her whims."

[grey]

It wasn't likely that Isra would notice those faceted eyes on her - wouldn't even occur to her that the dragon would have taken notice however noisy she was. The pale figure with her in the stands was the source of her concern, and even that head-tilted peek had her dropping brown eyes to the hands folded carefully in her lap.

Now she had done it, drawn unwanted attention to her unwelcome self, and the knowledge made her sink in on herself, narrow shoulders rolled forward, normally proud chin dropped toward her chest. Just as she wished to sink right down into the stone beneath her, the Weyrwoman spoke. Spoke. To her. Chestnut eyes could not help but swing up to the elegant woman, and lashes flickered a bit wider as one hand drifted of its own accord to her collarbone. "Me, ma'am?"

But there was no denying that those pale blue eyes were fastened on her, no doubt that the words offered in such cultured tones were meant for her ears. "...your family..." And so there was nothing for Isra to do but push back to her feet, smooth her skirts with a habitual pass of her fingers and lift her chin. "Yes ma'am," she offered before Aderes had to repeat her words or confirm that she was indeed speaking to Isra. Quick steps took her to Aderes' side, but the process of sitting took a moment longer as she held herself carefully erect, stealing glances from the corner of her eye as casually as she could manage.

"I have permission to see the eggs," she offered softly, tipping her head to offer the Weyrwoman not just the smooth plane of her cheek but thick-lashed dark eyes as well. "So long as I am quick about it and don't disturb anyone. But I think lingering a bit to please the Weyrwoman would certainly be allowed." All of her words came slowly as if each were considered before touching her tongue, blurred a bit by the distinctive Caminar accent that rid them of harsh edges. For the conspiratorial suggestion she offered a smile then, even more gradual to take hold of her lips than her words. By the time it reached fullness the person on the receiving end had usually moved on or looked away, but perhaps not in this case.

[Tabula Rasa]

Settling her hands in her lap, Aderes watched that smile grow. That it reminded her of another one, slower, more lazy and far more sure, was something the weyrwoman dismissed as part of the similarity all Caminar seemed to share. Coincidences and happenstance could still be enjoyed, so long as one was careful to keep such enjoyment off one's face. A small twinkling of pleasure was permitted to brighten her blue eyes and crinkle their corners.

"You're a very clever young lady," Aderes approved. "May I ask your name? I'll offer you my own, in trade. Aderes." She held her hand out, to be taken or clasped or shook. She'd not quite figured out what was proper for these people, but nearly everyone could find something to do with an offered hand.

"So, now that you've seen the eggs, tell me, what do you think? Are they as exciting as you'd expected?" One pale brow lifted slightly. A smirk that hovered at the edges of the goldrider's mouth suggested she already knew the answer to that question.

[grey]

Isra's dark angled eyes never left Aderes' face, even as the Weyrwoman's mind wandered to past days and past smiles. By allowing thick lashes to drift and veil her gaze, the girl managed to make the observation seem polite attendance rather than too-keen scrutiny. Still, when that brighter note touched pale blue eyes and the smile claimed them if not the elegant woman's lips, Isra took it as a good sign. The woman's words did nothing to dampen this misunderstanding, and Isra finally dropped her eyes away at the compliment, focused instead on hands clasped against the vivid shades of her skirt.

"Not so clever, really, but thank you just the same." Her fingers twisted together, but there was no hesitation in returning name for name. "Isra." By the time her gaze lifted again that long hand was offered and she blinked, lashes flickering wider for a beat. That slow-to-bloom smile helped to cover her surprise as she slipped her hand into the offered one, a gentle but firm clasp. "Well met, Weyrwoman." The smile, not yet fully realized, faded into lips faintly pursed, amusement there for a trade that was less than profitable for the Caminar girl. "Of course your name didn't need to be given."

Rather than push the light tease beyond acceptable familiarity, the eggs claimed her attention again, a quick flick to show further assessment was hardly needed for the easy answer to be offered. "I have seen two other clutches but this one is certainly the most impressive. More eggs, I think, and I hear that there's a gold egg too, though I'm not experienced enough to spot it." A beat passed. "What do you think of them?"

[Invisible]

It was never unexpected to find Konamar near the hatching sands when there was a clutch hardening. Since he was barely old enough to stand he would visit whenever he could to stare with longing at the eggs that would, maybe please someday, give him his ultimate desire. He never arrived with a gaggle of friends in tow. Nor did he appear with one or two buddies to jostle and share quieter jokes.

No, this was too important to invite along anyone he might be trying to form a tenuous bond with. This was his life after all. Konamar was of an age when he should have been out making merry as best he could, but instead his feet carried him here. Back to the galleries where his mother had watched with disappointment for so many turns as her son failed to impress. Oh, she might not say that, but surely she was disappointed the same as his father.

To the railing he went and once there he let out a sigh of pent up hope and frustration. He just had to impress this time. It was his last chance to find his lifemate and make his father notice him. He just had to and so while he could have been out with people who might have been friends someday he was here instead. The heat was a bother, but one he was prepared to ignore. A less polite ignoring than he did of the Weyrwoman when he spotted her as she seemed to be in conversation with someone else. That was a polite ignore he did. Not wanting to intrude and not have necessarily come here for conversation he stares at the eggs and silently hopes.

[Tabula Rasa]

For that playful chide, Aderes laughed, though it was the careful and proper chuckle of a lady well instructed on the appropriate ways to express delight. "No," she agreed warmly, "I supposed you didn't. But, better given than taken, I think. And if you haven't gained new knowledge, you've at least gained the tale of a Weyrwoman inviting you to address her without formality. How many Caminar can claim the same, would you suppose?"

Following Isra's gaze, the older woman looked out on the sands. Her soft smile remained as the dark queen returned the pair's speculative study. "I don't think even the more experienced egg watchers will find it," she mused. "It's hidden. That raised mound of sand between her paws. Pelegaoth likes to keep her secrets."

The Caminar girl's last question caused Aderes to cant her head in consideration. An unusual thing to ask a Weyrwoman. Most simply supposed for themselves how she must feel during such occasions. "Well," she began slowly, "I think all people have rituals that affirm life, community and better days in the future. The Caminar gather together every turn. The Weyr has clutches to build their celebrations around. Here," she murmured, leaning in a bit closer to make her next words more private.

"Look up there." The Weyrwoman would never point, but her blue eyes darted in the direction of a young man, recently arrived, who stood by the railing to stare down at the eggs with singular purpose. "Do you see that boy, there?" There was a brief pause to be sure that Isra had, indeed, seen the fellow before she spoke on. "Every clutch for the past ten turns, he's come here to watch them. Every hatching for the past ten turns, he's stood and come away alone. If he were Caminar, he might be considered the luckiest man alive by your people, but here..." she sighed softly. "Still, every clutch, without fail. Hope and sorrow all at once. You build bonfires. We gather around out eggs."