Gwynllaith Isle {Agendor Cove [Agendor Beach x C/C Clutch 2 (Bonding Rules) ] }

The Hatching of the clutch of:
Indigo Caswir and Aqua Celwyddaur

It was nearly evening when a highly excited Celwyddaur began the first deep, sounding notes of the Hatching-call. Indigo Caswir sang a rich alto melody-line, watching the quaking eggs possessively.
Yellow Kelar gathered the prospective bonders in her wild-eyed way, her calm bonder chivvying some of the more reluctant folk along the beach. The tide was high, and the wind fierce, as befitted a Gwynllaith spring. Flung sand, coarse and sharp-edged, peppered the faces of the three girls and one boy.
All were fascinated, to one degree or another, with the visible movement inside the rubbery shells of Caswir’s clutch, but one of the girls, a particularly lovely child with a stubborn jut to her chin, was absolutely enchanted. Culisa’s usual the-world-is-against-me melodrama had all but disappeared. The Lathis covebrat was scarcely breathing, Luthe noticed with amusement.
Beside her, Genni was equally interested, though she didn’t have her sister’s hypnotized look. She also had no problem stating her opinion when the third girl, Berbria, tried to shove between her and Culisa. “Quit,” she said sharply, and shouldered the spoiled fisher-girl aside. As Genni was quite used to /using/ her muscles, Berbria acquiesced with ill grace.
“Clutchmother,” she whined, “Genni won’t let me see. My seadragon won’t even be able to see me! I don’t know why I bothered coming with that idiotic blue when he brought me here! This beach is pathetic. We had better /pocket/ beaches than this back home.”
Caswir glared. “Dharishar told me that you /had/ no home,” she snapped around a high note. “You agreed to be Bondsearched. It’ll all be over in half an hour. And if the calf /wants/ you,” and the indigo’s tone made it clear that she considered this highly unlikely, “it will /find/ you.”
Even shy Kynan grinned at that. The solemn, slightly worried boy from Caer Tierra had been a welcome respite from the demands of Berbria and Culisa, and Genni’s never-faltering opinions.
The first shell split with a sound like tearing silk, spilling a brindled female out onto the Sands. Tossing her head, Caswir’s first daughter hitched herself damply across the Sands. “Culisa,” she declared proudly, broad wings undulating. “Come away with me, and you can spend forever with seadragons! At least one, anyway.” She nosed the girl's arm lovingly. "I am Velishaess.”
The next egg dumped its occupant with little ceremony. A rough-and-ready brindle male, already larger than his siblings, sped toward the bonder group as fast as his flippers could take him. But, to the surprise only of the prebonders—the seadragons certainly had no quarrel with it—he flung himself at Genni’s feet. “Gen,” he panted gladly. “I thought I wouldn’t get here in time! You know I would never, ever let anyone else have you.”
Genni grinned broadly. “Of course, Xeinyiss!”
The next egg, the largest, tore to reveal /two/ dragons. Both dark brindles, they bobbed their heads in syncopation as they hastened toward the bonders.
Kynan’s eyes were glued to the smaller of the two, a slim, sleek, speedy fellow whose returned his interest twofold. “Tomar!” the boy cried, gladly, as the hatchling slid into his arms.
“You’re more than worthy of me, Kynan,” his lifemate said seriously as Luthe escorted them off. “It’s me being worthy of you that is in doubt.”
“I guess we’re even then, Tomar,” the boy replied, a look of pleased disbelief on his face.
Two merles hatched at nearly the same time, male and female, and looked wide-eyed at Berbria.
“No,” the male said decisively.
“Definitely not,” the female agreed.
The other brindle-twin snorted his amusement. “Do I meet your standards, then, Meirar?”
Meirar, the merle female, dipped her head and purred back, “Of course you do, Thotar. Sorry, Azur, but he’s it.”
Slightly disappointed, but also amused, Azur watched them go with a toothy grin. He eyed Berbria one more time, skeptically, and shook his head. “I just…can’t,” the merle told his father, who rolled his eyes. “No way.”
Caswir, who’d had to admit that the girl had potential, was more than happy to escort her third son out.
Berbria, fiercely affronted, looked as though she was about to explode. The last egg, however, forestalled this by exploding itself.
Celwyddaur surveyed his youngest daughter with interest. No one had expected an auburn out of a clutch this small.
“Egg goo! It got /egg goo/ on me!” was Berbria’s contribution. The little auburn’s head snapped around.
“My ears,” she complained. “Really, Bria, I would think that a nearly-perfect girl like yourself would be more discerning.” She drew herself up to her full height—barely reaching the girl’s knees—and arched her neck proudly. “You,” the auburn proclaimed regally, “are my bonder. We shall ever be as one—Quiraneliss and Berbria.”
Her ire cooled, Berbria stared suspiciously at her lifemate. “Shouldn’t that be Berbria and Quiraneliss?”
A much-aggrieved Kelar nudged them toward their new quarters, stifling any further argument with a slap of her broad yellow wings.
“No duds, and one more than expected,” Celwyddaur remarked mildly. “A lovely clutch, m’dear.”
“It would be lovelier without her in it,” Caswir muttered, but acquiesced readily enough to her mate’s blandishments.