Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jul 29, 2013 16:59:15 GMT -8
3075.08.05 | Midmorning
Traditionally, of course, no matter what time the eggs Hatched at, the feast was a thing of mid-afternoon or even evening. That allowed plenty of time to prepare large quantities of warm, filling, delicious food, without interfering in anyone’s duties or the sleep schedule of the new Weyrlings. Traditionally, the drinks of choice were wines and ciders, with only a small amount of klah. Today was different. After all the pain and death that had occurred both before and after the Hatching, no one was in a mood to put off the consumption of far too much food. Thus, the Hatching feast consisted mostly of things one might expect at a breakfast table, though the kitchens had managed to prepare at least two roasts and one soup. The main option for liquid was klah, since it was a little early for wine.
The kitchens had started work early. Fortunately, they had begun the preparation of warm, comforting foods not long after the destruction of the eggs had been discovered, for they knew that people would want something to help them handle the pain of the loss. However, when they heard that the Feast was not to be delayed, there was still widespread dismay, for that news came only with the first hum of the dragons, and there simply wasn’t enough time.
No matter. It had been declared that the Feast would take place at breakfast, and by the Shells of the first eggs, that was when it was going to take place. Thus it was that, when the Hatching was over and the weyrling dragons fed, the Feast began. There were massive bowls of fruits, rare delicacies this far in the North, arranged artfully of even cut to resemble different animals. A roast was sliced in half, with one half placed one quarter of the way up the main table, and the other placed one-quarter of the way down the main table (measured from the foot or the head, respectively), on either side of a massive ice-sculpture of a dragon. It had been prepared three days previously, and kept outside to prevent it from melting, it had been dyed a pale blue, with spots left clear, in a truly cunning imitation of an Ice dragon.
At the next table down, the center sculpture was of a Bronze, wings spread, in honor of the clutch-father as the Ice was of the clutch-mother. The halves of the other roast were on either side of this sculpture, which was surrounded by tiny pieces of red-fruit, so that the dragon appeared to be exploding into the air.
As people made their way into the Hall, they were greeted with celebratory music, though, in an intriguing twist, the drumbeat had been changed to a far more martial one, and the speed of the music slowed slightly from its traditional delivery.
Fitting for the occasion, Rallin thought, sighing. It was late in the day by his mentality, and Rallisk was already abed, but the WherHandler wanted to talk with his friends, and had been planning to do so this morning anyway, though the Hatching had delayed breakfast a bit. Spotting Gillian, who wasn’t playing this set, Rallin ambled over to join his long-time friend, and the two of them sat in silence, watching as the guests, riders, and Weyrlings arrived.
Traditionally, of course, no matter what time the eggs Hatched at, the feast was a thing of mid-afternoon or even evening. That allowed plenty of time to prepare large quantities of warm, filling, delicious food, without interfering in anyone’s duties or the sleep schedule of the new Weyrlings. Traditionally, the drinks of choice were wines and ciders, with only a small amount of klah. Today was different. After all the pain and death that had occurred both before and after the Hatching, no one was in a mood to put off the consumption of far too much food. Thus, the Hatching feast consisted mostly of things one might expect at a breakfast table, though the kitchens had managed to prepare at least two roasts and one soup. The main option for liquid was klah, since it was a little early for wine.
The kitchens had started work early. Fortunately, they had begun the preparation of warm, comforting foods not long after the destruction of the eggs had been discovered, for they knew that people would want something to help them handle the pain of the loss. However, when they heard that the Feast was not to be delayed, there was still widespread dismay, for that news came only with the first hum of the dragons, and there simply wasn’t enough time.
No matter. It had been declared that the Feast would take place at breakfast, and by the Shells of the first eggs, that was when it was going to take place. Thus it was that, when the Hatching was over and the weyrling dragons fed, the Feast began. There were massive bowls of fruits, rare delicacies this far in the North, arranged artfully of even cut to resemble different animals. A roast was sliced in half, with one half placed one quarter of the way up the main table, and the other placed one-quarter of the way down the main table (measured from the foot or the head, respectively), on either side of a massive ice-sculpture of a dragon. It had been prepared three days previously, and kept outside to prevent it from melting, it had been dyed a pale blue, with spots left clear, in a truly cunning imitation of an Ice dragon.
At the next table down, the center sculpture was of a Bronze, wings spread, in honor of the clutch-father as the Ice was of the clutch-mother. The halves of the other roast were on either side of this sculpture, which was surrounded by tiny pieces of red-fruit, so that the dragon appeared to be exploding into the air.
As people made their way into the Hall, they were greeted with celebratory music, though, in an intriguing twist, the drumbeat had been changed to a far more martial one, and the speed of the music slowed slightly from its traditional delivery.
Fitting for the occasion, Rallin thought, sighing. It was late in the day by his mentality, and Rallisk was already abed, but the WherHandler wanted to talk with his friends, and had been planning to do so this morning anyway, though the Hatching had delayed breakfast a bit. Spotting Gillian, who wasn’t playing this set, Rallin ambled over to join his long-time friend, and the two of them sat in silence, watching as the guests, riders, and Weyrlings arrived.
