AFGUNST
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HATCHING
It was late afternoon, right before supper, when the white-rainbow dragoness bugled to announce the Hatching of her clutch. The candidates were given the traditional white robes and ushered into the Hatching Sands as guests filled the stands. Several people wondered if, or rather, how many rares there would be.
Everyone watched in silence as the first of Hyperith's clutch hatched. A long crack made it's way through the middle of the small egg. With a shudder, the egg split neatly in two, and a tiny, dark green dragon sat between the two shattered halves of her egg. After she'd impressed a blue and a brown dragon hatched in rapid succession and both found their bonds.
Another egg hatched, revealing a small green dragon. She raced to her chosen and looked up at Afgunst. Am I pretty, Afgunst?
Afgunst smiled as she stroked the dainty green dragon's head. "You're beautiful, Horuth."
Then the green hatchling spread her wings wide, and several people in the stands gasped. The green dragon's wings were black, as dark as ebony. Good. Now let's eat!
Afgunst grinned smugly as she lead the green-black hatchling away.

Black-winged Green Horuth (f)

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WEYRLING
Afgunst yawned as the dragonrider in charge of training the fledgeling dragons took up his excessive long and tedious speech about safety straps again. She'd been through this talk more than once, mostly because she refused to wear safety straps that clashed with her garments. Uncute and boorish straps were also out of the question.
The fashion mishaps were only the beginning of Afgunst's troubles though. Impressing a dragon had turned out to be far more difficult then she'd ever imagined. For one thing, they expected her to sweat and get dirty. They expected her to wear clothes that would allow her freedom of movement, but covered her entirely. She'd had to gut and clean dead animals. She'd had to clean just about every inch of darkling dawn, INCLUDING the lavatories. She'd hauled sacks with firestone toward the others. Life had been hell.
The only good thing about getting a dragon was the dragon itself. Horuth was of the same kind. She understood her fully. It helped of course that Horuth was a beauty. Not a single day went by that she went unnoticed. Everyone literally stopped to stare at her.
"Why thank you." Horuth said, "I do take care of my skin."
"I'm the one who scrubbed you." Afgunst remarked bitchy.
"You benefit from the oil as well, mine." Horuth said.
Afgunst shrugged, "But that's the only thing good about the work." she sighed, "Let's go."

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ADULT
Horuth stretched her black wings and said: "2."
Afgunst nodded in agreement and the two of them waited. Finally Horuth stirred again, stared off into the distance and called: "A 4 maybe."
"As if. That's a 3."
Afgunst sighed. There really weren't any men around here that were up to standard. She'd stoop so low nowadays as to take a 7! In the days before she became a dragonrider she'd never been satisfied with anyone less than a 9. Because she knew her looks were a perfect 10. She'd given up the search to find someone as equal in beauty as her, but her lifepartner should at least come close.
In Darkling Dawn though there were only a handful people to reach a 5-rating. Fighting and training did not improve the looks of men like it did in stories. She had yet to see a roguishly handsome marauder. All she'd found were rugged boors.
"That dragon could pass for a 6." Horuth said.
"But his rider's a 1!" Afgunst called out in anguish.
"Yeah, he's not very handsome."
"I say we go offworld to fly." Afgunst declared, "One more of these days and i'll swear I'll get a nervous breakdown. And while we're at it. Find us a place with indoor plumming."
"Will do." Horuth grinned.

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STATS -- BIRTH -- 6 YEARS -- 15 YEARS -- SEARCH -- DRAGON
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Afgunst is a Candidate at Darkling Dawn Weyr
Lantessama Isle