Cool idea, what's gonna come out? :O

Light filtered through a well-jeweled cave, glistening not only on the walls, but upon a small clutch of eggs. A scaled white dragon roared out to her golden companion. 'They... they...they are hatching! The day is here at last!' her silky voice sounded, excited by this miraculous event, the official birth of her children. The golden dragon responded to her words and curled himself around her, his eyes momentarily soft at the prospect of children. It quickly faded when the first egg, a white, black, and blue one, began to shiver and crack. A baby dragon, with scales much like it's mother purred after it broke free of it's prison

those are some varied species. but all so amazingly unique

Soon, all the eggs had hatched but two. Two black eggs... one slightly pink, and the other striped. The two dragon sighed. 'Ambrosia... I think they may be... duds.' The gold dragon looked into his mate's eyes, seeing water well up into tears. She nearly snarled in her motherly sadness. 'I'll take them... out...' She whispered just above the cracking of the already hatched shells. She gingerly reached into the nest and picked up the pink-shaded egg. She nudged the striped egg and it began to shudder. 'It... It's alive!' It cracked open and a rather feeble black dragon tumbled out. It's emerald green eyes stared up at it's white shining mother. She looked like an angel... Ambrosia turned away from his bright, eager eyes and trudged to the cave entrance. Her grieving was apparent in the way she took to the skies. The baby cried out and looked to his father. Demir's eyes stared disapproving at the tiny child he saw before him. It was so... tiny and weak. Not worthy of being his son. Ambrosia returned after some time. 'I suppose we should name them.' The two adults studied their newborns. They decided almost simultaniously. Ambrosia spoke first, 'The pink one shall be Ruby, the teal Shasta, the gold will be named after his grandfather, Venik.' Demir spoke next. 'The emerald will be Mayflower, the purple Iris, the white Finire.' His tone became dark as he stared at his last, unnamed, unfit son. 'You... will be Ash.'

he sounds..dissaproving:/

Poor Ash he's rejected