savatol2

Savatol woke up when a loud bugle shook the room. Sitting up quickly he looked around him, trying to decide what was going on. Dragons never made noise this early, they were polite creatures, and wouldn't wake the Weyr needlessly.
But the Candidate barracks were already alive with the other five Impressers-to-be hastily threw on their white robes. The Hatching! That had been Cylanth. Savatol shook his head as if to get the remaining bit of sleep out, and then lept from his warm cot out onto the cold floor. The freezing stone didn't bother him as he shed his sleeping shirt and pulled the white garb over his head, nor did the fact that he was the last one out the door. From what he knew, eggs took a while to hatch anyway....
He rushed out of the barracks into the frigid morning air, and shuddered, wishing he was allowed to wear decent boots instead of these sandals.
"Come on lad!" A dragonrider called from the distance, and Savatol saw him waving all the Candidates on eagerly. "Hurry up!" Savatol didn't need much encouragement, and he joined the rest of his companions on the Sands.
They needn't have hurried, it was quite awhile before any of the eggs began to look like they would hatch; and then the one that kept rocking didn't do so. Savatol sighed and forced his tense body to relax.
That egg couldn't be normal, could it? It was taking so long to hatch.... But a girl, Kysarna, Savatol reminded himself, walked over to that egg and took out her belt knife. What was she doing? You couldn't slash into an egg like that! But she did, and the tiny green that fell from her egg to a heap at Kysarna's feet. Kysarna Impressed the young dragonet, and the two looked blissfully happy. Savatol couldn't help but to be drawn back to a memory of his childhood....Had he seen an Impression before? It seemed like he had.
No time for this. Savatol thought. I'll think about my past another day, today's a day for the future. Two more eggs hatched, revealing a green and a blue. The blue passed Savatol on his way Vebz, and then Savatol watched jealousy as Impression was made. Would he Impress afterall? He knew there were six eggs, but what if one of the dragonets wanted someone from the Sands? All at once, Savatol knew he wouldn't Impress that day.
He watched sullenly as the green passed the girls, and passed him too, despite his mental call to her. He saw he go over to the other eggs, and stand near one that eventually hatched into a lovely green-blue. The two then made their way to the girls, and each chose one.
So much for the rare. Savatol thought, and wondered how so many people could stand to do this every Turn.
But then the Savatol's attention was drawn to the two remaining eggs, neither of which were moving. He moved hesitantly forward, noting that Esham did the same thing. Savatol rolled his shoulders to keep himself from tensing up.
Without warning one of the two eggs split right down the middle, revealing a large, healthy looking brown. Savatol gasped with astonishment. A brown in a green and blue's clutch? Who would he choose? He was so beautiful.
As soon as the brown righted himself, he scrambled right for Savatol. The boy couldn't believe his fortune as the brown chose him.
You're not going anywhere without me! The brown told him. Glad you didn't become a weaver. You belong in the Weyr-with me! Savatol was still reeling with the effects of Impression. The dragonet's mind found his without a moment of indecision. It was the perfect bond of love and trust. Savatol grinned at his new lifemate.
"Whatever you say Pikarth!" And the dragonet crooned appreciativly, rubbing his head on Savtol's..no, S'tol's legs.
As they were leaving the Sands, S'tol noticed the last Candidate, so dejected looking-and yet so hopeful, stand alone. He was about to stop, maybe offer some sort of word of encouragement?
It will be alright. Pikarth informed him, and S'tol smiled again at his lovely little brown.
"Of course it will." And S'tol watched as the last Candidate Impressed the blue that hatched from the last egg. S'tol didn't move for a long moment, watching the two together. Finally Pikarth, having enough of not being the center of S'tol's attention, butted against his chosen's legs urgently.
I'm very hungry S'tol.
"Oh! Of course, come on then, we'll go get you something to eat."