Deborah did, indeed, take the next three days off from work. She was still on-call for emergencies-- at which time Purpura stood guard over the egg, refilling the tub with warm water when it needed it-- and she kept her cell phone on, but on the whole, she stayed in her apartment for a much-needed vacation that the mystery egg provided her. The "mystery" did not stay a mystery for long, however, as Dr Schroeder from the Abstract Destiny was quite willing to share the parentage of the waylaid egg-- especially since he had one, which had already hatched a charming little silver dragonet. Deborah had no way to contact the mother, however, so she merely hoped that, as had happened for the geneticist, Myrror Moonscale would be able to find her.

It was a good thing she'd taken so much time off, for she had been readily available when the egg-- now supported with soaked towels so that it didn't roll around in the tub and crack itself prematurely-- began to twitch in what Purpura, with his very limited knowledge in such thing, guessed to be pre-hatching jitters. Such things could easily take hours, from what she'd heard from the Flights and Hatchings Ministry. So she leisurely got together a selection of food-- mostly meat, but with a variety, just in case-- and a number of towels to help clean the hatchling when it broke shell, and settled in on the toilet's lid, beside the egg, with a book in one hand and Purpura's hand in her other, just so he would know she wasn't forgetting about him.

His vigil didn't last as long as hers, and he was soon wandering around the apartment, checking his plants and expecting her to warn him when something exciting happened. There were cracks in the shell-- small cracks, yes, but still... cracks. Deborah kept an eye on it, turning a page. This didn't look to be one of those hours-long hatchings.

"'Pura, dear, come on in. It shouldn't be much longer."

Not much longer, indeed. No sooner had Purpura poked his head into the bathroom than one of the little cracks-- above the rapidly lowering waterline, for Deborah had started draining it when she called her bond in-- expanded into a big crack. It revealed something furry: white fur, tipped in blue and damp from the egg goo, as it shifted against the shell still trapping it. Deborah put her book down, much more interested now in the hatchling.

"It's furry," Purpura commented, peering over her shoulder.

"Mmmhmm. Probably not all over... little Halcyon just has a mane."

Another shift of the hatchling, and the crack opened wider, revealing more than just sticky mane. A furry ear twitched against shell, and an eye blinked, and from within the shell came a distressed meeping sound.

"Think he's having some trouble...."

"Or she," Deborah added, and leaned down to fit her fingers into the shell and gently help pry the pieces apart. "Don't worry, we'll help you get out," she told the hatchling. It meeped again, and with Deborah's help, managed to pop its head out. It looked much like Halcyon in color, silver beneath its flop of sticky white-and-blue fur. Beneath the egg goo, Deborah thought it might be slightly more metallic in color, perhaps. Its eyes were blue and bright, but with black sclera, oddly.

Oblivious to its odd eyes, and probably to its entire appearance, the hatchling chirped and renewed its struggles. Deborah chuckled and continued to gently pull the two halves of the shell apart, helping but not letting it hatch entirely without work. This time Purpura went down on one knee to help, as well, ready to catch the hatchling when the egg finally split and the little one went tumbling down. It fell right into the Earth dragon's waiting hands, a tangle of wings, limbs, and over-sized ears, and promptly chirped up at Deborah.

"It's like a little baby," Deborah smiled, "it can't talk yet...."

"I always thought kits who could talk right off were weird," Purpura answered. "Here, here, take it...."

"You just don't know what to do with a baby," Deborah chuckled, but she obeyed, gathering the little dragon up from the wet towels and Purpura's anxious hands.

Then someone knocked on the door. "Why don't you get that?" Deborah suggested, between settling the hatchling into the crook of her arm and smoothing back its fluffy mane.

That was something Purpura could do, so he stood, wiping his hands off on one of the towels, and paced out of the bathroom, towards the door. It slid open as he reach it, of its own accord, revealing a young-looking woman with brown hair and... very odd eyes. "Yes?"

The young woman jumped a little, wincing. "Ah, yes, I'm hoping you could help me... did an egg appear out of nowhere around here?"

Purpura blinked, and called back, "Hey, Deb? I think that Myrror person just showed up! You, uh, are Myrror, right?"

"Yes, I'm Myrror," the lady said, raising an eyebrow, "How did you know?"

Deborah, wriggling and chirping little dragon in her arms, settling now that she'd stopped tickling it, stepped out of the bathroom to answer. "Because Dr Schroeder told us you were these little one's mother, and that you would probably be showing up sometime. Hello."

Myrror stepped in, her eyes going a little wide. "A moonscale..." she said softly, "Another...."

Deborah obligingly came further out, towards the little one's mother. The hatchling blinked eyes at her-- his?-- mother that were, Deborah saw now, the same as her mother's. His mother's? "Is that... her clan? His clan?"

"Yes..." Myrror said, reaching out and touching the little one with a smile, "Not many of us around, actually...." The hatchling chirped at the touch, but still stayed in Deborah's arms. Myrror sighed a bit at this, "She'll... probably will want to stay with you...."

"Do you think so?" Deborah asked, torn between pleased that the little silver infant might like her, and guilty for taking a child from her mother.

"She's taken to you," Myrror said, "and there wouldn't have been any way I could transport a hatchling back home so soon after hatching. I've been trying to find the eggs, they keep hatching before I can reach them...."

"I'm sorry," Deborah answered, and she did mean it. She smiled encouragingly. "Well, you can visit whenever you like... you could even make it a double-visit, since Dr Schroeder and Halcyon are so close."

"It would be good, having a sibling close by," Myrror said, then thought, "How much did Dr. Schroeder tell you? About what happened?"

Deborah answered, motioning for Myrror to come with her back to the bathroom, where towels and warm water awaited to clean the little hatchling-- female, according to her mother-- from her egg goo. "Just that the egg was yours," she explained, "that you would probably be coming by for it soon, and how best to take care of the egg from home."

"There was something about clans, too," Purpura added, drifting after the two of them, "but we didn't ask about that part, really."

"Ah, yes... the Clans. It's by scale color, and accompanying powers they'd have," Myrror says, following. "We're air-based, night and moon magics. Of course, that all depends if she grows up to be a shifter...."

"And this little lady is a Moonscale?" Deborah asked, setting her gently into the tub and turning on the tab as gently as she could over her head. "Because she's... silver?"

"Yes," Myrror said. She shifted herself, to her half-dragon form, though retaining her human height. "Like me."

Deborah, looking over her shoulder at her as she shifted, smiled. The hatchling merely shook herself vigorously as water splashed over her, cheeping. "Like you... she has your eyes."

Myrror chuckled at that, returning to her human form, "That... is another Moonscale trait. We all have these eyes. Even the human kin...."

"Is there anything we should, you know, know?" Purpura asked, leaning against the door frame while Deborah started combing out wet hatchling-fur. "In raising her?"

"Well, she'll probably be a child for a rather long time," Myrror said, "Dyrmysts don't grow that fast. Keep her fed, play. She'll need to be taught how to hunt once she's old enough... I'd say no later then fifty...."

"Fifty?" Deborah repeated, a little blankly. "How long will she be a child?"

"Unless something happened in her getting here... they take a hundred years to mature," Myrror said with a slight wince, "Though if she turns out to be a shifter, some teaching at Dyrmyst will be needed...."

"Good thing you're bonded to me, huh, Deb?" Purpura smirked. "You'll actually still be around when she's a grown up."

"Bonding Avengaean dragons," Deborah explained wryly for Myrror, "makes one age more slowly. All right. And how does one get to Dyrmyst, for future reference?"

"Or do we wait for you to show up?" Purpura added, still looking amused. The hatchling, oblivious to the conversation, rolled and splashed happily in the fount of warm water.

"I should have a way for you to contact me," Myrror said, digging in her pockets, "That would be best. And, one other thing: like I said, she may be a shifter. Around sixty to around seventy-five, she'll start to go through her First Change."

"And what will that be like?" Deborah asked, turning her gaze and hands back to the little one, pulling her from the water and into a towel spread across her lap. She protested with a little creel, but submitted to toweling readily enough.

"To tell you the truth, it depends on the individual," Myrror said, finally taking out a blue jewel, chuckling a bit at the hatchling's antics. She grew more serious, though, when she added, "Mine was... not pleasant, I'll say that much. Some have had the change happen during trauma. Some just awaken in a new form. Whenever that happens, and doubly if she seems to be having trouble, contact me immediately."

"Of course," Deborah agreed, and Purpura held out a hand for the gem, since his bond's hands were full of wriggling, wet, and now purring hatchling.

"So how does this thing work?" he asked.

Myrror gave the gem to to Purpura, then raised an eyebrow at the purring hatchling, "Wow... didn't think that would be passed on again...." She blinked, then added, "Just touch it and think of me, or at least my name. If I'm not, say, in the middle of a battle or something, I'll answer almost immediately. If something has happened to me... you'll get static."

"We'll not think about something happening to you," Deborah said with a smile, ruffling the hatchling's mane with the towel, while the hatchling tried batting at the other end of it.

"Didn't think what would get passed on?" Purpura asked.

"The purring," Myrror commented, "It's not exactly... common."

"Well, she is you're daughter," Deborah chuckled. "And now she is no longer sticky!" She bundled the wet towel away, letting the dragon kit mouth her fingers exploratorily. "Does she need anything special to eat?"

"Just meat. Softer kinds, first off. She might get interested in other foods when she's older."

"We can do that. I wonder if we can pass ourselves off as new dragoners," Deborah chuckled, retrieving her fingers again as the chewing got a little uncomfortable. "When will she start to talk?"

"She'll probably start picking up words in a few days, mimicking, mostly," Myrror said, "Once she starts, it'll probably be best to teach her just exactly what those words mean...."

"I've never had a baby before," Deborah murmured, stroking the hatchling's drying mane.

"Well, that's one thing I can say I have had..." Myrror answered, with a slight blush, "Three clutches before this one...."

"What happened?" Purpura asked, frowning, while Deborah pulled the plate of various hatchling-enticing foods down from the counter and started offering bits of diced meat to her new charge-- who promptly all but pounced the offering, nearly falling off Deborah's lap in the process. "That this one got so... so... scattered. And bloody."

Myrror sighed, slumping slightly. She was hoping she wouldn't have to tell that part of the story again. "Dark thinks it was stress-induced temporal magic that sent them to the various worlds...."

"Were you all right?" Deborah asked, righting the hatchling almost absently before popping the bit of ham into her mouth, looking over her shoulder at Myrror with a concerned frown. "How long ago did this happen?"

"The short of it... it killed me, and some of the hatchlings," Myrror said hesitantly, "And... a little over a hundred years ago. What we thought was the only survivor is now an adult...."

That stopped Deborah short, making the hatchling creel softly and paw at her hand for the next handful of breakfast. "You... died?"

Myrror nodded, "Yes... I'm immortal, in a sense. I die, I come back. No matter what. Doesn't make dying any more pleasant. Used to drive my bond nuts...."

"I would imagine so!" Deborah agreed, a little wide-eyed-- but she did lower her hand again so the hatchling could get at the food there.

"Will, uh, she be immortal, too?" Purpura asked, pointing at her.

Myrror shook her head. "No, that's not a generic trait, it's more of a... gift...."

"Good," Purpura sighed. "Nice, mortal kids are better, I think...."

"What should we name her?" Deborah asked suddenly, changing the subject.

Myrror thought of a moment, then shrugged. "Anything, I have children named Argent, Verizon... Moonlight. I think I was tired when I named him.... Prismas, Hyacanth...." Myr stopped, growing sad again.

"We will have to think of something appropriate for her, then," Deborah smiled down at the hatchling, who was still eating the diced meat-- they'd moved on to some kind of fowl, now-- as soon as it was put in front of her nose. She didn't see Myrror's expression, though Purpura did, and she laughed lightly, "Something other than Hungry!"

"Yah," Myrror looked up, chuckling slightly.

"Would you, uh, like to stay for dinner?" Purpura suggested, looking a little awkward; guests weren't something he was used to dealing with-- that was Deb's job, but at the moment she was absorbed in the hatchling-- and the guest being a young, or rather not so young, mother of a child they were adopting only seemed to complicate things.

Myrror blinked a bit, but then seemed pleased enough with the offer. "I'd be delighted."

"I, uh, guess I'll go start it, then," Purpura said with a lop-sided grin, and made his escape, leaving the two women with the hatchling, at least as long as it took to get a decent meal started.