Nataquin makes the rounds in the hatching cavern galleries and ends up frustrated, as usual.  Lots of parents and children involved. http://dftaini.livejournal.com/68884.ht ml#cutid1

...heavy clouds hide the spectacular show of color as the sun sets, leaving only pervasive grey, blustery winds, and walls of snow that spins and whirls with each gust. Hiding away from this is N'tan, lounging across a trio of tiers while he watches his son roam back and forth against the rail, counting eggs and talking to the dragon parents as if they might actually listen to him. Atop Nataquin's...

... Broad staircases spiral downward to the floor of the cavern, the middle of each step indented by generations of treading feet; a narrow walkway circles northeast towards the dragons' ledges. N'tan's eyes flatout close with Emilia's remark, shutting out not only light, but opinions. This is how he misses Nomi's arrival completely, that or it's being flushed from his mind as well. Nataquin...

...weyrs are located in the somewhat quieter area to the southeast and south respectively. It is a winter afternoon. The vault of sky is still, empty, freezing cold. Chair legs half buried in snow, N'tan sits and watches the bundled little boy romp in a pile of frozen white. There's a tiny mound atop that suddenly moves and out pops a bronzed head, and beside it a green. The pair are trying to stay...

...at the man, moving his leather jacket from the table's bar stool on the one side, to the stool on the far side. "Thad," the man says, foregoing the usual formalities afforded Th'deus in other circumstances. He's cleaned up, now, having bathed thoroughly after the last post thread but pre-bath bar encounter caused him so much grief: it was a long, steamy bath, full of thought and mucho mia culpas....

...for very long as all angles of attack are explored. Snow is good for one thing - ammunition.  A tightly packed grenade is launched toward a black-haired blue-eyed target as he bends to his duty.  N'tan's large mitted paws work on another as the keen brown eyes watch to see if the last will  make it's mark.  Iona is a bundle of energy even in frozen conditions, and is barrelling across the bowl...

...this altitude, towering amongst its fellow peaks to the north in a display of icy, untamed grandeur. The rest of the bowl sinks far to the southwest, at this altitude visible all the way to the distant glitter of the lake; the mountain winds are crisp and clean, their strong updrafts rejuvenating the appeal and excitement of flight. When N'tan enters he's but a shadow of movement just inside...

...adds to the stash. Leagues of time have worn in the usual ways, with oil stains and claw marks that tell of the generations that have come before the present occupant. Aggression incarnate, N'tan stalks about the upper level of the ledge, pausing now and again to stare at someone heading in or out of the living caverns. As each one proves not to be Nataquin, he gets more and more frustrated...

Nataquin and Puff have a grand success! http://community.livejournal.com/the_ipod/75222.html#cutid1

...and green vines, and careful white brushstrokes have inscribed 'Imogen and Hestiath' to the left of the entryway, and 'Iona and Orlaith' to the right. You see Vesta, Ferret, and Nidhgoth here. N'tan and Nataquin are here. Obvious exits: Bowl Tunnel Fly The long stretch of ledge that is usually so cheerful with its pots of greenery looks rather barren when the pots have all been moved into the...