(I'm assuming first-person RP is acceptable here - please le tme know if it'll cause a hitch! I'm going to be doing this from my perspective as if I were really there, since that's what I feel most confortable doing with KT Critters.

)
Seriously, though, a young, righteously indignant voice resounded in my head, twinging with long-felt ire.
What right have you got to have that many colors in your hide?!Giving physical emphasis to his statement, my Thyraswlhd Dragonet shook his head, practically hopping up and down on his feet, his ebony wings, highlighted by tones crimson, azure and gold, ruffling sharply. Each movement was perfectly executed to catch the sun and make his gleaming hide display its spattering of colors that much more readily.
Placidly lying at the far edge of the sands, Asthorié snorted, perpetually bored with the youngster's argument. Her hide, like Machere's, was dark as the night sky, but with even more highlights, the perfectly subtle, yet vibrantly iridescent sheen characteristic to Eldari Dragons. A deep rumble, lush and femine, purred its way along her throat, and I understood her as perfectly as if she had spoken the words in my own tongue.
I am as I was born, little one.
But you're copying me! Machere shot back, ignoring the obvious fact that the dark, mammoth dragoness was many years his senior and might just think of eating him...
Asthorié's glowing eyes flickered dangerously with irritation, and her lips curled back in a snarl to reveal wide, orca-like fangs as her tail began to swing back and forth, carving a loose furrow in the sand.
"Asthorié! Machere arev Donerre!" I hissed, dropping my voice respectfully as the first egg, that of the Caeddrhy dam, began to shatter. "You two will treat each other with respect or find yourselves on the unpleasant side of my anger..."
Machere winced, sneering at Asthorié once more before turning to observe the birth of his own kind, disdaining to argue with the Eldari any more. Asthorié merely sounded a reverberating draconic chuckle, asking me in her language of rumbles and growls if there was any other part of my anger but the unpleasant side.
"Quiet, you..." I murmured indulgently, briefly running my fingers along her jawline and watching the hatching's firstborn stumble across the sand, righting himself momentarily.
I could not describe the aching desire in my heart for him, or perhaps others of this clutch, this hatching of many species, to join me and my other companions in the distant mountain valley we called home...