Winter was progressing at an alarming rate, and the eggs on the flurry
hatching sands were slowly hardening. Almost too slowly. Some worried that
so many eggs on and in the soft red sands were just too many and they
weren’t kept warm enough. Logical minds argued that if there were a
problem, the experienced mothers on the sands would have said something.
An unseasonably warm week had wreaked its havoc on the snowbanks of
Ryslen, turning the winter wonderland into a sloppy wet muddy place. Many
of the candidates - tiros - were reassigned from the “traditional”
chores to keep the floors clean and dry in the major entryways. Some, if
not all of them were pleased to be out of barracks cleaning duties.
It seemed that a breath of fresh air was what
everyone needed - especially the eggs. Shortly after the sun passed
zenith, a harmonious rumble issued forth from the hatching grounds. The
call had been anticipated for so long that half of Ryslen was quite
startled and the other half... weren’t. At any rate, the hatching
grounds were quickly filled but the hearts of the tiros were heavy - many
of the eggs showed no sign of movement, and a few even seemed flaccid.
Cephari, the wind drak who'd been flown by White-Streaked Black
Onurnmosoth, nudged her still second egg gently, and it gave a rock in
response. Zealously guarding her egg, the Icarian mother screened the
actual hatching from the view of others while her daughter hatched. Within
moments the shell had fallen completely away and the hatchling was
blinking at the brighter outside world.
“Her name iss Meddinsori. Sshe will not Mind
Pair either.” Cephari said, naming her second drakling and
revealing the Rain Drak to Ryslen.
Flurry Rain Drak Meddinsori
||Meddinsori (elvish for: Wet
||Part Rain Drak
||Sneaky and impulsive like
most rain draks, her flurry heritage have given Meddinsori a
sense of humour that relies more on irony and word
Meddinsori had stayed close to her
mother, learning the things that Draks were supposed to learn. It didn't
take long before she could communicate with the humans as most draks were
quick to pick up language.
"Sshall I shnow you?" she
quipped to one of the humans.
Her lisping pronunciation meant she could play with the words in a way
that the humans mostly didn't. The humans sometimes didn't understand that
she'd made a joke, but one of the caretakers who liked to play word jokes
himself, had absolutely taken t eaching her about the fine art of language
"Only if we are outside," he told her, "I wouldn't want to
get cold feet."
Meddinsori chuckled and blew some wet snowflakes toward him anyway.
Meddinsori had left her
mother's side half a year ago and had transferred to Castle DesCas. The
desert-based castle was maybe not the logical choice for a drak who had
been born of wind, rain and snow but the contradiction appealed to
She was an unbonded drak and not many of those were around but Meddinsori
didn't feel left out. Her sense of humor and her way with words had earned
her a special spot in the hearts of the knights. They called her their
little refreshment and Meddinsori always happily obliged by breathing a
little winter magic their way.
Maybe someday she'd find a mate or a knight. But for now she was perfectly
happy being on her own.
Lantessama Isle - Ryslen