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Josy - Sunday, July 25, 1999, 5:55 PM
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The following is a roleplay-log from SouCon MUSH (soucon.godlike.com 4201). The world of Pern is copyright to Anne McCaffrey.
You walk over to the bustling Weyrhall.
With her attention on the ground beneath her feet, Joslyn comes in purposefully from the courtyard. Both hands shoved into her pockets, she studies the floor as she walks - either looking for something or just that bored. Or both.
Shasta sits close by Kinoa, or perhaps hovering beside Kinoa, a little bundle of fuzzy yellow in the Wingleaders' arms the center of her attention. Whatever's inside that bundle coooos - or rather, burbles sort of, and a chubby hand is waved about. The anxious though trying to pretend she's not mother smiles at Kinoa, nodding. "Well, she didn't scream on first sight. Only clue I have to go on. Evening, weyrwoman." The last words are spoken in an only slightly louder voice.
Marila wanders in carrying a sack. She whistles happily.
Kinoa looks most unlike her usual wingleadery self as she giggles at the child in her hands. "If only everyone were that easy to impress," she says, looking up and nodding at Joslyn and Marila as they come in. "Heyla."
Joslyn, who has finally gotten used to the whole title-thing, pauses in whatever she's doing and looks up and over at the Weyrsecond's voice. "What've you got there?" she asks at once, her previous preoccupation forgotten by whatever the women are doting over. Must be good.
J'mis strides over from the Western Courtyard.
Shasta reaches to pull back a corner of Khysta's blanket, that'd flopped over to rest on the infant's forehead. "Figured I'd bring Khysta out now and then," the brownrider says. "Get her used to the bustle of weyrlife slowly." Her sister, upon arriving, is sent a warm smile. "So how're you today, Joslyn?" She asks, returning her attention to the goldrider.
J'mis swaggers in, not only is he a bronzerider, but well, he's slightly inebriated, again. Well, nothing new there either. He nods, finger to forehead as he passes towards the others.
Kinoa grins again and makes a move to hand the baby back to her mother. "She seems like she'll do fine," she tells Shasta, nodding at J'mis as well as he stumbles around the hall.
Marila opens her sack as she walks near her sister and the baby, "I know she's a little young for them right nowwwww..."
Joslyn lets herself get distracted by Marila and her bag and then J'mis and his swagger, watching both with brief and idle fascination. Then it's back to Shasta's baby. "What's it's name?" she asks, leaning over to peer into the blankets a moment with a frown.
J'mis grabs himself a drink, or several, by the looks of the wine skin he grabs, making sure he gets the fullest of the bunch. No point doing anything by half measures here.
Telinda strides over from the Western Courtyard.
Telinda wanders in, Kayli resting on her hip as she does so, "Hello all!" she calls out.
What Shasta said about how to tell if Khysta likes someone holds true, it seems. The infants' bright blue eyes squint shut tight, and she lets out a howl that rises in pitch by the second, as Joslyn's frowning face comes into sight. Over this, a wincing Shasta answers, "Khysta..."
With only a little less swagger, T'shon enters the weyrhall, giving the room a quick once-over before tossing his gloves onto a table near the entry. "Fort's to Southern," he says perfunctorily, pulling a rolled hide out of his pocket and slapping it against his palm.
Marila grins at her sister as she pulls a pair of fat, very plump stuffed dragons from her sack. One in green the other brown. Both with shiney eyes made of blue glass.
Kinoa can't help smirking as the infant, so well-behaved in her arms, starts squalling at the sight of Joslyn. "Evening," she says to Telinda, waggling fingers at the child on her hip as well. T'shon gets a nod and a smile.
J'mis just looks at T'shon. Huh. Northern bronzeriders, think they can just stride in here. He takes a sip of wine just to show his appreciation of the situation.
Telinda smiles, "Ah, the new baby!" she adds, moving towards Shasta. Kayli starts gesturing to the smaller infant, and squealing in excitement, right in Telinda's ear. "Sssh, Kayli, don't make me go deaf early, please."
Joslyn flinches, blinking her own eyes in turn as the baby starts screaming like that. "Make it shuttup," she request-demands of the mother, frowning as she steps back from the yellow-clad bundle. And - how fun - here comes yet another noisy child.
T'shon announces to the room, with a tone that indicates they should all be paying more attention, "T'shon, rider of brown Ravinth." That done, he hands the rolled hide off to a simpering assistant headwoman and strides over to join J'mis at the wine, recognizing a man of exceeding good character when he sees him.
There's only one word for how Shasta looks. Horrified. As Khysta's squeals get louder, she holds out her hands, making rather lame excuses. "Mayhaps she's hungry. Or wet. Or..." Joslyn's words get recieved with a blank look. "She's not a glowbasket, weyrwoman," is said softly. She's yet to really see the stuffed dragons - give her a moment and she'll appreciate them.
K'tor strides over from the Western Courtyard.
J'mis peers closer at the younger brown rider from Fort, then hands him a skin. A new one. Wonder where that came from. Who knows.
Telinda grins over at Shasta, giving Joslyn a wierd look, "Well, Shasta, haven't you worked out the usefulness of knots yet? Shove it in their mouths and they'll often shut up."
Marila is standing near her sister holding a pair of stuffed dragons. She is looking worriedly at her niece.
K'tor ambles in, muttering faintly irritably to himself. He is a trifle sandy, unmindful of tracking it in behind him. He starts for the serving tables and then veers towards Marila.
Kinoa leans back in her chair and eyes the newcomers, waving where appropriate. "Oh, now, she was delightful to me earlier," she points out to the weyrwomen. "Maybe you scared her, Joslyn."
Joslyn points approvingly at Telinda's suggesting, apparently liking the idea very much. "Indeed. Excellent plan," she seconds, still frowning at Shasta's baby and finally shaking her head. "Maybe I scared her? No, just wanted to scream."
Shasta coughs, giving Telinda and Kayli a quick smile. "I figured my knot'd have to come in handy sometime," she jokes, her voice a little strained. Yes, first time mothers often take their baby's screaming too seriously. The colourful stuffed dragons catch her eye, and she flashes a grateful look up at her sister. "They'll get mouthed to peices, but maybe it'd distract her? I don't know, Josy, she just sometimes doesn't seem to like some people. I mean.. maybe she's hungry. Let's see if something colourful works?"
C'al strides over from the Western Courtyard.
T'shon bites down on the plug of the wineskin and pulls it out with a satisfying *pop*, spitting it off into a dark corner and taking a swig of the wine. "Thanks," he says, wiping his grizzled mouth on his sleeve and then running a hand through salt-and-peppered hair.
A'dan walks over from the Western Courtyard.
K'tor comes up behind Marila and wraps arms about her waist, before peering over at the aforementioned bundle in Shasta's arms. "What's her name, Shasta?"
C'al wanders in, looking less than happy, and makes his way to the food tables. His gaze casts about, and finding Joslyn, sours still more.
Marila chuckles as she passes the pair to her sister, "Drooling on them is fine. After all they are for her to use... its not like I expect them to survive turns unscathed." She leans her head back on K'tor's shoulder, turning her head a touch to plant a kiss on his jaw.
"Babies're too much trouble, anyways," Joslyn decides at last, making an ugly face at the littlest little and then turning away at once. C'al gets a dirty look - uglier than the one poor Khysta gets - and the goldrider scoots off to sulk in a corner somewhere for no apparent reason. Well, not apparent to HER, anyway.
C'al hrmphs, apparently quite fine with her moving. He finds a seat and settles into it.
Telinda readjusts Kayli on her hip, chuckling softly at Shasta's confusion, "It gets easier" she remarks, "Believe me." Eyes wander around the rapidly filling hall, and her eyes drift to Joslyn before glazing over. Rapidly she looks around, "OKie, someone needs to take Kayli" she says. "Now?!"
Kinoa has given up trying to wave to everyone as they come in, and merely smiles at everyone in general. "Well, I think she's just lovely," she says of Khysta, managing not to look at C'al at all. Telinda gets a blink and an offer, "Um, I will, but why?"
A'dan's nose quite immediately wrinkles after his feet first make entry, and he look that ensues - to both Kayli and Khysta - is none too beatiful. "Evening," is finally able to be produced, though the Wingsecond makes sure to steer clear of those with the children.
Shasta waves the green stuffed dragon infront of the squalling infant, in the hopes of convincing her to cease deafening all around. Appologetic sounding, she answers K'tor, "Khysta," followed by an entreating look to Telinda. "It does?"
Telinda prizes Kayli away from her hip, and hands her to Kinoa, placing a kiss on the child's forehead. Kayli just blinks, watching her mamma. "I need to get Tia out. See you all later. Bye sweety" she says to the child, "be good for mamma."
Telinda walks toward the Courtyard.
K'tor's attention moves towards Josy as well, despite his arms being wrapped around Mari. He mms softly, perhaps directed at Marila, perhaps at Shasta's comment.
Br'den walks over from the Western Courtyard.
Joslyn rubs at her nose for a moment, then chews on her thumbnail for a moment, looking more distracted by the moment. Eventually, she's just oblivious and blinking at the wall in very detached absorption. This is new...
C'al reconsiders, and stands, snacks in hand, then stalks on out.
Kinoa snugs the child in her arms and smiles at her. "Hey, you," she says, suddenly filled with confidence about holding onto children. As long as they're not hers. "Bye, Tel, but," then she blinks over at Joslyn. "OH, my. Hm."
C'al walks toward the Courtyard.
T'shon moves towards the Courtyard.
Shasta's jaw promptly /drops/. "Muinyth, I ... get..." A rather shocked look goes towards Khysta, as the infant finally ceases screaming. "Mar. Muinyth's headed to the feeding grounds." The brownrider says, her voice kept low.
K'tor kisses Marila's cheeks again before he reluctantly begins to pull away from her, grey-green eyes centered on Josy.
J'mis's narrow and his attention miracously sobers up. He looks around. Telinda's gone, therefore...eyes rest on Joslyn.
Marila hasn't particularly noticed Joslyn. After all, all that particular weyrwoman has done is be mean to her niece. Hmph. She balls up the sack. Her attention returns to Shasta, "What??" She shoots a slight grin to K'tor and moves towards her sister and the baby, "Here."
Br'den abruptly -stops-, his face blanking as someone -- no, not someone, /Dryth/ -- takes impetuous control. As if pushed, he takes a few stumbling steps forward, towards the group beginning to orbit around Joslyn.
Joslyn decides, all of the sudeen, that now would be a good time to say something and so she does, turning to face the general populous with the same blank tilt to her head. "I think there's something wrong," is announced to anyone close enough to hear over that funny little catch in her voice. Ahem.
Shasta's come face to face with that dilemma that women riders often face - their dragons' needs against their infants. And well - a brown dragon interrested in blooding has an awful lot of strength to his wishes. "Take care of her?" Shasta asks, bundling Khysta into Marila's arms.
Kinoa shifts Kayli over to the other arm and watches Joslyn, the expression on her face something between pity and worry. "You're going to be fine, Josy," she assures the goldrider, watching as the maleriders in the cavern begin to circle the poor girl. A glance at Marila and she shrugs. "Guess I was wrong 'bout Jeuneth."
K'tor's hands linger as he moves away from Marila, the last bits to leave her figure. He is drawn towards Josy, hot eyes on her face. He murmurs quietly to the weyrwoman, "S'going to be fine, Josy. Give 'er some air, folks."
Shaking her head most soberly, Joslyn affirms, "No, this is not good at all. Not good at all." Having hung around the place long enough, she's probably got a good clue in that foggy little brain what's about to happen, see, and so she grabs onto the seat of her chair with her fingers and plants herself there. "Not good at all."
Marila nods, "Aye.. don't worry. She'll be fine." She glances towards Kinoa as she bundles up her niece lightly. "Aye. But at least she's going up." Her eyes flicker to K'tor again before returning the attention to the little blond haired blue eyed baby.
A'ric walks over from the Western Courtyard.
Shasta shifts Khysta gently, rearranging the blankets around the infant.
Marila ever so gently adjusts the blankets around Khysta.
N'all strides over from the Western Courtyard.
Shaking his head as if to dislodge an annoying VTOL, Br'den makes his halting way towards the others. K'tor -- now there's a face he recognizes, albeit dimly. A'dan, too -- and in his distraction the greenrider gets a wave. His eyes alternately fogging, then returning to vague sanity, he manages to sidle close up to Kat.
Marila nuzzles the baby lightly. Keep the child from noticing her dragon-addled mother.
Kinoa shoos away a kitchen girl who's just standing there, mouth agape and nods back at Marila, the two greenriders perhaps the only ones in the room who aren't drooling. "Just stay with her," she murmurs to Joslyn, then shoots a glance at the entering N'all. "Oh, shells," she says, rolling her eyes the barest bit.
N'all grabs a mug of klah, and mumbles something about just another day and heads outside.
J'mis watches the gold's rider, giving her the room she needs, and yet his eyes continue to watch her form, watching every move she makes. A hand lifts up, wiping his mouth free of the wine, sobriety now ringing clearly through his veins.
A'ric keeps to the wall, half-smirking, but not speaking, as he steps around any moving brown or bronze riders. He does, however, move to fetch himself a skin of wine, as if in preperation.
Shasta presses her lips into a firm line, and gets out of her seat. She's only a few paces away from her sister and daughter, before the expression loosens, and her dragon's influence creeps in. Green eyes fix on Joslyn, or what she can see of the junior goldrider between J'mis and a brownrider.
K'tor arches his eyebrows at Br'den, not giving the Honshu brownrider a particularly welcome greeting. Another, more coherant look at the boy's face and his expression softens just a bit. "First time up? You'll be fine." A ghost of a smile and he adds, "Josy's first time up too."
"Oh, nononono," Joslyn declares, standing up from the chair at once and shaking a finger at N'all's entrance. "He has to leave this very minute and I mean it," she insists, walking straight across the room as if she really intends to physically remove him from the premises.
Nareisa has arrived.
N'all looks at Joslyn, and shrugs, "If you insist." He looks outside and bellows, "Come on, Oaf, don't get too worked up."
N'all strides over to the Courtyard.
K'tor finds himself in Josy's path and attempts to get out of the whirling bit of energy she has become upon spying the weyrlingmaster. On his way, he nearly bowls over Br'den, hanging onto the brownrider for support as well as to hold him up.
Br'den shakes his head again, whispering, "Dryth. He's just, it's so..." His arms go out reflexively to catch K'tor, blinking at him blankly before managing to set him on his feet. "He doesn't even like /greens/. Not Dryth. Not even -greens-."
Nareisa's eyes widen. "What was that?"
Joslyn comes to a dead halt and blinks after N'all. "Oh, good," is her brilliant observation, and then she looks very much like she might cry - in a very childish, red-faced way. "I don't WANT to," preceeds her plopping down right there on the floor on her butt, very much upset.
Jeuneth> You soar to the sky above.
E'niel strides over from the Western Courtyard.
Iris walks over from the Western Courtyard.
A'ric shakes his head, and chuckles faintly, giving a faint smile over to Nareisa, "Flight, Reis...join me?"
Kinoa smiles at Nareisa and A'ric as they enter, from her greenrider child-haven next to Marila. "I believe Jeuneth is, ah," she looks back at Joslyn. "It's not your choice, darlin," she says softly. "You have to. Even if it is N'all." Okay, maybe she shouldn't have said that, but...
Iris follows the stream of people walking into the hall, curiosity making her look around.
Marila settles down on a bench, she mutters under her breath to her tiny niece, "Lets hope Auntie Breidith doesn't get any ideas." She smooches the baby's cheeks.
N'all strides over from the Western Courtyard.
J'mis glances down at Joslyn, his attention, though elsewhere, is for once courteous and he extends an arm to the goldrider,
J'mis says "Remember your lessons, Joslyn."
Nareisa just looks back and forth, and then in the interest of variety, looks forth and back. "Er..." maybe she'll just keep quiet this time.
N'all snarls towards Joslyn, "I tried to leave, but .he. wouldn't hear of it." He grips his mug of klah with white knuckles, "Don't worry, I'll try to hold him back since the thought of me disgusts you so."
Jeuneth> Jeuneth bursts into the sky as a straight, energetic arrow of eerie gold - shadowed but illuminated as she finds herself with a fair amount of altitude in a very short time. Hovering for a moment or two, backwinging to maintain her position, she surveys the Weyr in its entirety with a sweep of her gaze and then darts purposefully toward the feeding grounds - this is her idea of fun.
Jeuneth> You fly toward the sky further south.
Jeuneth> You soar to the Feeding Grounds below.
K'tor murmurs to Br'den, "Different with golds. You'll be fine." He releases the brownrider, darting a wary, worried eye to try to find Josy again in the crowd. Apparently he lost her in his efforts to get out of her way.
Shasta murmurs, "You've not much of a choice," as she regards the gold's rider. ARms fold across her chest, as she takes on her own stubborn stance, one rather less often seen now. Chin tilted, shoulders pushed back, she pays little mind to the riders around here, all but the one on the floor.
Iris leans over to a random person and asks in a quiet whisper. "What's going on?"
As he enters at a hurried pace, E'niel breaks his stride, pausing fractionally as he attempts using his natural emotional radar to find who the goldrider is that creates such strong waves as to bring half of Pern to her beck and call. When he /does/ spot her, the bronzerider's brows rise high onto his forehead. After a moment he says outright, though to noone present, "Oh no... Not her. No way... "
Jeuneth> Dryth beats upwards, surely he's not leaving so soon? But no, one, two, three wingbeats only and he drops downward, wings folding in for speed, only to unfold at the last moment, sending him skimming along, claws catching a terrified wherry almost before it had a chance to begin running. One flick sends it to the ground, then next rips a gash neck to stomach. He lands, muzzle seeking gushing blood, showing the just arrived Queen his skills and prowess in the air.
Kinoa smiles at Iris, distanced a little from the crowd around Joslyn. "Jeuneth's rising," she murmurs to the girl, not loud enough to disturb the weyrwoman any further.
Joslyn apparently plan on staying right here on the floor where it's safe and no one can touch her. She's having a very hard time of all this, it seems, and can't be bothered to pay attention to the rest of you all anymore - nothing personal. Miserably intent right now.
Jeuneth> Ceruth lashes out with a talon and with an efficient hooking motion eviscerates it. He lowers his muzzle to drink the blood therein.
"Golds?" Brid echoes plaintively, his own eyes searching out, locating the smaller, female, all-important figure. He takes a step forward, his eyes glassing over again.
A'ric leans back, and chuckles, watching the goldrider, and looks at Kinoa, "This her first rising?"
Jeuneth> Vagranth finishes off his first kill quickly, the carcass, throat completely torn out and missing, laying there below his feet completely drained of whatever blood he could take from it. Maybe a drop or two remains, but anymore is doubtful. Attention rivets on a second beast, for he must have the fuel necessary for the forthcoming flight. Violent tail lashes accompany his following leap across the feeding grounds, as he lands on another kill, and this time as the animal tries to escape he merely continues to hold it down, waiting until the creature tears itself apart. Only then does his ruby-limned muzzle dip to feast on the blood gushing from this fatal wound. When he is done, he turns, watching the approach and landing of the glowing sunset called Jeuneth.
Marila shifts the baby in her arms again, "Kinoa can't they go somewhere else.. I mean there seems to be an aweful lot of them.."
Iris moves over to a seat next to Kinoa. Again talking to her in a quiet voice. "So what's going on here?" She asks. The new look of her resident knot my explain why she seems so confussed by the going ons.
Nareisa blinkblinks, and seems to decide that A'ric is safest right now, ayup. She sighs and opens her mouth as she passes N'all. Then she closes it and just scurries past. "Jueneth's rising?" yes, always quick on the uptake, this one.
Jeuneth> Wysonth is paused in his methodic killing, his head lifting high in the air as if he were denying some unheard command. Impatient with the intrusion, he continues, making a short leap to land atop a pair of cowering wherries. A graceful movement tears the pair in half, creating twine streams of gore in which the dragon sedates his thirst. As she lands, his neck cranes in a proposal ritualistic fashion, his nostrils flaring.
Kinoa chews on her lower lip and nods at Marila. "They'll have to, once she goes up," she reassures the other greenrider. "I mean, they're not gonna -do- it right here in the middle of the weyrhall." Her wrinkled-nose expression indicates she certainly -hopes- not, though stranger things have happened. "Um, that's Joslyn," she points to the weyrwoman sitting on her butt, "And her gold is rising." She doesn't know how else to explain it.
Jeuneth> Muinyth lifts a blood-drizzled head from his prey, tongue darting out to taste droplets, leaving dark red smears across his muzzle. Violet eyes seem to filter out all, as the edges of the facets flicker with a golden hue, reflecting the shades of the Queen as she soars past. Earthen wings extend extend, as the brown emits a low rumble of approval, but even this doesn't last for long. He can admire her till Rukbat rises to rival her glory in the morning, but he'd not have the blood-given energy too chase were he to try. And so, Muinyth pushes himself from the ground, launched towards the herds again.
A'ric smiles to Reis, and holds a hand out towards her, as if to guide the younger rider.
Kinoa explained that to Iris, that is.
N'all walks toward the Courtyard.
Jeuneth> Jeuneth arrives as only a queen can, wings spread to their fullest and clearly outlined by the definite luminescence of fertility, her eyes whirling with the cold scarlet of the hunger that fuels it. Great curved talons stretch out to dangerously sharp claws that threaten any of those little males that might happen upon her path, and eventually those weirdly-hued claws wrap about an unwitting runner - a deft flicker of movement before she's caught the beast up entirely and carelessly. Move now.
Jeuneth> Tizonth lowers his head to a third beast, sharp teeth slicing the neck to ribbons as the smallish bronze sucks greedily until the 'beast is dry. Only then does he raise his twice-bronzed head. Only then does he see Jeuneth's glowing form. Tizonth hisses, an uncharacteristically severe sound, challenging the others. The other males? Yes. But challenging the golden Queen, as well. A canny expression melds his blood-drizzled features, for Tizonth realizes this flight is no Gather of fun and frolic.
Jeuneth> Simath croons a greeting to Jueneth, as he drops his current meal to the ground and goes for a wherry.
Nareisa slips over there. "N'all seems awfully mad."
Iris shrugs to herself, as if it's something you see every day. She reaches behind her and grabs a piece of fruit from the bowl on the table she is leaning aginst. Content to munch away at the red fruit while the choas errupts around her.
Jeuneth> With another lash of his tail, Ravinth raises his head to watch the approach of the firey queen, bits of gore and entrails dangling from his jaws. The aging brown rumbles again, not quite so spry as some of his fellows, but unable to resist the call that the glowing gold arouses within him.
Jeuneth> Three's company, at least for Dryth, and easily enough. The lean dark figure hunches now upon emerald grasses, awaiting the brilliant queen's pleasure. Three fat herdbeasts fill him with all the crimson fuel he needs
"No, no, no! You're not doing it right!" Joslyn insists, pounding her fist against the floor to punctuate the syllables. She'll be sorry for that later, of course. Now it's time for that perpetual argument 'tween rider and dragon: "She's not supposed to EAT them!"
A'ric smiles, and gently tugs Nareisa into the seat next to him, and chuckles, "It's a flight...things happen, aye?"
Jeuneth> Three's company, at least for Dryth, and easily enough. The lean dark figure hunches now upon emerald grasses, awaiting the brilliant queen's pleasure. Three fat herdbeasts fill him with all the crimson fuel he needs
In a furious battle of wills with his lifemate, E'niel hisses low under his breath, "No, you will >not< fly this gold. I forbid!" A quick glance is shot to Joslyn causing his cheeks to heat with a bloody red to match that that is being spilled in the feeding grounds. The battle rages on, --"No! I will fight you... " but his words grow dense the more the blooding continues.
Marila plants a kiss on the baby cheek. Trying not to look as scared as she is.
Jeuneth> ... Dryth's wings snap out, lightly testing the warm humid Southern air, though the young brown remains earthbound.
Jeuneth> Albanth finishes his second kill, emerging from the dust that surrounds him. The bodies of caprine and herdbeast lay in a tangle of flayed limbs, no blood seen on the ground or the russet-bronze of his hide. Oddly fastidious and careful, Albanth does not seem to hurry to kill again, instead conserving energy. He moves to give the queen more room, violet eyes intent on her starbright form. As she stampedes the herd, he reaches out with a forelimb tipped with charcoal talons, and snags a paniced, insipid wherry, who doesn't seem to realize the trouble it is in. A squawk and the bronze maw is buried in tufts of protofeathers, greedily drinking, though his amethyst eyes never leave Jeuneth.
Nareisa ers. "Yes?" apparently she's not quite sure what he means, but yes seems the appropriate response.
Sitha flits to the Courtyard.
D'fit walks over from the Western Courtyard.
J'mis's arms drops to his side, but his gaze never falters having found it's beacon to linger and anchor himself to. A vein in his temple, silent before, now begins to throb as the blood surges through his lifemate and through him. There's no denying anything, no point, a complete waste of energy, better directed elsewhere.
Kinoa grins at Marila. "It'll be okay. Long's they don't kill -all- the beasts." She frowns momentarily. "Shoulda had Luiseth feed today."
Jeuneth> Irritated by the audience, Her Grace settles off near the paddock to devour her meal with careless voracity - or so she thinks. Something halts the queen, though, and she lifts that regal wedge with the customary and shrill scream of defiance as her weyrwoman dares to argue with pure instinct. Jeuneth so wants to eat this warm, tasty beast, and Joslyn doesn't want to. The compromise is to blood, of course, and she settles to that with clumsy, messy greed.
Br'den sticks close to K'tor, caught in an avoidance-attraction cycle as strong as his lifemate's mental hold. "He... he's blooding," the weyrling manages, one hand running through sweat-damp hair. "Why's he doing that?"
Jeuneth> Wysonth does not heed the commands that wisk insistantly through his head. Defiant, he lifts his blood soaked muzzle to the sky to bugle his challange to the dragons around him, as well as his lifemate who fights him within.
Jeuneth> Muinyth only uses one downsweep in his lunge for a kill, conserving precious energy for as long as possible. Letting the bronze Tizonth's challenge roll of his back like beads of water, the brown takes his prey in a cloud of dust, raised by the pounding of thousands of hooves upon the dry ground. Sandstone hide disappears in the cloud, only to be viewed again greedily sucking at a rent and bloody beast between his forelegs. And through it all, vibrantly purple eyes fixate on the one golden dragon in the feeding grounds, as if they two were there alone, unaccompanied by the other browns and bronzes. For it is only she, and he, that matter to Muinyth.
A'ric chuckles quietly, and squeezes Reis's hand, "Don't worry 'bout it.." He then calls over towards Kinoa, "We should have someone escort them elsewhere, hm?"
Marila glances at Kinoa and whispers loudly not in a shouting voice, "Faranth I'm not going to go that numbwitted am I?"
Nareisa smiles just a bit. "Well, er... I er... hope he.. whatever he wants to do." He who? Good question.
K'tor moves slightly away from Br'den. Ah! There she is. Grey eyes gather clouds, much like the monsoons that have battered the weyr. He half ducks between and behind a pair of shorter riders, muttering, "Give her air, people." The words are half snarled, the bronzerider caught up in his 'mate's blooding. He snaps at Br'den, a trifle impatiently, "So he can chase her. Remember your training, Weyrling."
Iris looks over at Kinoa. "Well I'll just have to do some extra hunting then. Don't worry, there will be meat enough on the tables." She glances over A'ric and Reis, then back to Kinoa. "I'll help however I can."
Jeuneth> Vagranth wings fan out in a filtered haze of light -- like a comet had just flown across the sun, and blocked it's light, as he considers, carefully, his next move. Rumbling, loud, deep, he snarls at another bronze that ventures a little too close for comfort, tail thrashing back and forth in fury. He reaches out with a rapacious talon snaring a young herdbeast right across both jugular veins and carotid arteries, and sanguine lifeblood fountains up in some sick parody of life as the bronze lowers his head, ready to drink some more of the fluid that summons him.
Kinoa snorts at A'ric and gestures to Joslyn. "You try moving her," she suggests, then turns to Marila. "Well...I don't know. You might. I mean, she's not usually like that, is she? It sort of does weird things to you, but then, it's different with a gold." She readjusts the child in her arms and smiles at Iris. "Thanks."
D'fit walks into the Weyrhall in a bit of a daze. He spots E'niel - though not his sour expression - and makes his unually clumsy way over to the fellow Honshu rider. "Tizonth won't tell me what he's up to, but I know better. Is there a green rising or..." D'fit trails off, as the significant concentration of bronzeriders, and the smattering of brownriders sinks into his flight-addled mind. "Oh shells..."
Joslyn stops bothering to even talk anymore, just shuts her eyes as tight as she can possibly press them and tries to remember all that stuff they crammed into her head all those Turns ago with that little biddy part of her mind that's still hanging around. This is so not worth it.
A'ric grins at Kinoa, shifting, "Hey, I'm not going to fight off half the bronzeriders we got running around. It's going to be bad enough, though, with all of the emotions that're gonna be washing o'er us."
Nareisa ohs. Just ohs. That. Right.
Br'den knew that, but unlike Joslyn, he appears to be trying to block the information. Nevertheless, Aeriel's patient (and not so patient) lectures come to the fore. "The males blood t' catch the female. She bloods t' gain the strength for a long flight." Strong forearms wrap, seeking reassurance, around his middle as he mutters, "Shards."
A'ric adds in, dryly, "An' most of you get drunk later."
Nareisa smiles a little nervously to A'ric and mumbles "It'll be okay, rith?"
Kinoa's mouth tightens just a little. "Well," she says, then mutters something under her breath. "I have to watch her," she says, raising Kayli slightly. That should keep her a little safe. From A'ric or the bronzeriders, who knows?
E'niel growls at D'fit, his focus no longer inwards, "Joslyn's too." Imagine the irony of that,... both D'fit and E'niel chasing after the one who'd most like to have them both dead. Lips tight, he lowers his voice to say, "Wysonth refuses to quit. He says it is my problem, not his, and he /will/ win." Snorting at the last, the bronzerider tweaks D'fit's elbow before he looks back over at Joslyn, his generally bright eyes dark as snow driven thunderheads.
Iris says "If you need to move these people, I can hold the kid for you. I'm not the best with children, but I think I would be even less of a help with dragon riders."
A'ric seems more interested in Nareisa than Kinoa at the moment. He does wink at his wingleader, but he smiles at Reis, "Aye...'twill be fine...."
Jeuneth> A second beast is drained in much the same manner, an excess of blood trailing with perfect gore over Jeuneth's dark talons. She seems to hover near that one small corner of the feeding grounds, waiting for the stupid wherries to dart her way in terror and only then bothering to snatch them up with crushing jaws - briefly appeased before it's time to dispatch a third. She seems to be enjoying herself immensely, though that's hard to tell to gauge the scarlet whirl of her facets and the devilish pose she strikes while feeding.
Nareisa sighs. "I'm glad he's blue," she mumbles.
Jeuneth> Albanth reaches out with that razor-tipped forelimb again, even while his maw is occupied with the wherry it holds. A quick, spare movement, and he brings down his fourth beast - another witless wherry. The one in his maw is spit out, and he draws the wherry up to replace it. Wings half spread, as if expecting Jeuneth to leap aloft at any moment, even as he crunches bones of his final kill.
Jeuneth> Dryth shifts his weight, wings outstretching again before half-furling to tuck against his sides. Scarlet hued eyes whirl, spin to violet and lilac, eager anticipation coming over the waiting brown.
A'ric simply chuckles, leaning back, close to Reis.
Marila nuzzles her niece again. Her eyes drifting to the various riders.
Jeuneth> Ravinth's slaying slacks off for a minute as he surveys the flocks for another kill, the brown betraying an unusual patience before extending a forelimb to rake a bleating ovine with his talons. He watches, head cocked, as the legless beast tries to escape again, then mercilessly slashes its belly open, burying his muzzle in the fountain of blood.
Nareisa's fingers beat a sort of nervous tattoo. "So angry," she murmurs.
Jeuneth> Muinyth rolls the beast aside, limbs flailing with sharp hooves in midair, limp in death. Already forgotten, the carcass, throat torn out, belly slashed, is left behind to feed what wherries survive this ordeal, and the brown lunges for another kill. The ground, already shuddering with the impact of running beasts, tremours violently as the medium sized dragon gallumphs towards the herd, wings held high. His next prey selected, obsidian black talons outstretch with each stride, riccocheting the buck back and forth until it finally tumbles in a prolonged roll. Even before the sommersaulting bovine comes to a dusty halt, Muinyth is upon him, teeth bared, and the beast meets death in the form of several immense daggers of ivory plunging into his neck.
Jeuneth> Ready, Wysonth kicks his way through the small pile of mutilated creates that he created, making his way toward the gold as if he were going to, at this very moment, claim her as his own. The simmering light in his eyes is sparked as he watches her blood, his own tongue wisking out to lap at the residual blood as if tasting of her own kill.
Shasta stands, letting riders around her, men and women alike, jostle her. Or try to. For her feet are firmly rooted into the ground, hands clenched into fists, as she watches Jeuneth's rider match wills with the golden one.
Jeuneth> Vagranth rumbles thunderously, like a mountain moving under one's feet, as the ichor begins to pound through his body, the muscles rippling with power that surges under his bronze hide. His part in the massacre that surrounds him is nearly complete, his need for blood almost sated and then it's just the waiting to endure. His head drifts around, searching for the next almost worthy sacrifice, and finds one -- a lone calf, lost from it's mother in the chaos of the feeding grounds. Patiently, calmy, he becomes still, and then, just as another bleating issues forth, he erupts from his dormancy -- flowing forth like molten lava flowing down a hill, consuming everything in its path -- crushing the creature with an extended forepaw, and feasting deep on the claret blood that spills forth.
Marila flicks her gaze at Nareisa, "Why are you angry?" So maybe it was a tad faint but she's tense and she's just listening to everything.
Nareisa says "Not me. N'all. He looked like he was going to explode."
A'ric turns his head towards Reis, and asks, "What've you been up to lately?"
Jeuneth> Jeuneth is the very portrait of indulgence as she sucks the blood entirely from her fourth kill this evening. Her forelimbs literally dripping with wasted life, she enjoys the luxury of time now that the initial, uncontrollable pangs have passed. Blooding is all but a game now to this caliginous queen, fading into the muted shades of nighttime as darkness threatens to descend - but still there's that eerie glow to betray her whereabouts.
Nareisa blinkblinks at A'ric as though he'd caught her out at something. "Er... nothing," she says defensively.
Marila ohs, "That's her fault." She waves towards Joslyn.
Off in middle of the Hall, a Wingrider from Honshu Weyr looks up curiously at Joslyn for a moment, frowning as they try to recognize her, then shrugs and goes back to what they were doing.
Kinoa says, rather mildly, "Maybe N'all didn't want to be here. That might tick me off."
A'ric grins and reaches with his other hand to tap Reis's nose, "Nothing/"
Br'den steps forward, weaving (and elbowing) his way through the crowd, once again finding a place beside K'tor. Not so close, this time - either Kat's glances have finally sunk in, or else Dryth's instincts have taken over. "They chase," he mutters, reliving the recent lecture under his breath. "Some of the males tire, and drop out." A flare of his nostrils, and a toss of his head: Dryth/Br'den won't be one of those!
J'mis nervously, yes, nervously, runs a hand through his grizzling hair, eyes fixated on, and secured like a barnacle to a whale, hrm, rock, yes, rock, and the rock is Joslyn. Joslyn, who appears more glued to the floor than anything, surely no wave of emotion could move her now.
Jeuneth> Simath continues his quieter, more discrete blodding. Nothing fancy here, no dead baby herdbeasts or wherrys, no fountains of blood spraying for a dragonlength around, just quiet, subdued blooding.
K'tor blinks, a hint of surprise showing on his features. A hand runs through bright red hair, and he pushes his way gently through to the edge of the circle around Josy. "Josy, C'mon. Time to get up." A crooked grin is give to the weyrwoman, his eyes his own for the moment as he cracks gently, "Your place or mine?" He offers her a hand up, even as Albanth threatens to overwhelm him again.
Jeuneth> Tizonth bugles, just for the release of nervous energy, not worried about saving his breath while he's still on the ground. Every nerve and fiber in the smallish bronze seems to quiver with the energy of the herdbeasts and wherries inside him. Their lives to fuel his flight - a flight to make new life. His long tounge sneaks out from parted jaw to snatch the last bit of blood from his chin, and his wings spread in a carefully judged readiness, their sails shimmering with the last light of sunset.
Nareisa insists. "NOTHING," somebody struck a nerve without trying, it would seem. Her gaze lingers on K'tor for a moment, and then she looks back at A'ric. "Nothing at all. I've been er... flying sweeps and trying to work out why my garden is dying." In other words, she's been hiding.
A'ric frowns faintly, and looks at Nareisa quietly, "So nothin's wrong?"
Joslyn stares at that hand, incapable of fathoming K'tor's audacity in approaching her at this moment to judge the vacant blinks the bronzerider earns. She doesn't even bother to say anything - doesn't really have to, actually. Her expression reads quite plainly: If you do not move, I am going to hurt you very badly.
Nareisa shrugs, and that's all she'll say to that. And she also doesn't look at anyone around the goldrider. Finally she says "I've just been... doing quiet things. Staying out of trouble," she frowns. "That's all."
Jeuneth> Muinyth lifts his head, granite cheeks painted with streaks of liquid life, the red substance gathering into runnels to drip upon the soil beneath his chin. Around the kill before him, a dark circle grows, dampening the dry dusty ground. Again, the brown lifts his attention from this, his third kill, to rest longingly upon that golden, lithe, creature, his violet whirling eyes reflecting her brilliant glory of fertility. Umber streaked earthen wings extend widely, his muscles tensing, as a wherry streaks nearly under his nose. With one fell sweep of ebony talons, the avian looses what little brains it once had, the rest of it's form crumpling to the ground to be relieved of its blood.
K'tor doesn't move. At least this way, it'll get her up off the floor. Not that he'd *mind* the possibility of performing before the entire weyr, but well, there are children present. And there's always the weyrhealer to console - er, stitch him up - afterwards. The hand remains offered to haul Josy up.
D'fit pulls his elbow away from E'niel at the other bronzerider's tweak. "Joslyn?" He repeats in stunned disbelief. "D'you think Jeuneth remembers about, uh, all that stuff?" His expression clearly hopes both halves of the proddy partnership have forgotten. He looks around for Joslyn, relieved when he sees she isn't wearing Gather finery. This would *not* be a good time to bring <cough> certain things up again.
Jeuneth> With the fifth the the hapless beasts hanging half-dead from her jaws, Jeuneth seems to forget all about what has just become a very useless waste of her now precious time. She should not be HERE, among the blood and filth of the feeding grounds. She should be up THERE, where they can't get to her. Even as realization dawns, instinct draws her upward, the barely whimpering herdbeast dropping with a merciful thud to the ground as the queen takes flight at once. Good luck, gentlemen.
Jeuneth> Near, Wysonth halts, his neck flexing as myriad of muscles consciously work to make his bronze hide ripple in an attractive fashion. A slow consistant motion of his spars spread his sails to the sky as he readies for the lengthy flight again.
Jeuneth> You fly toward the open sky above.
Jeuneth> Albanth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Jeuneth> Tizonth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Jeuneth> Muinyth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Jeuneth> Simath soars over from the feeding grounds below.
Jeuneth> Dryth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Nareisa sighs and gives A'ric a quiet smile. "Just doing my job."
A'ric nods to Reis, and leans over to kiss her cheek lightly, "If you're sure....."
Jeuneth> Vagranth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Jeuneth> Simath soars up after the queen, remaining silent in his pursuit of her shining gooliness. His wings beat in powerful motions as Threadfall-trained wings push him through the air at an ever-increasing pace.
Marila doesn't watch at the moment. Her finger running lightly over the baby's nose.
E'niel shrugs at D'fit and heads toward the nearest item that looks like it could contain something stout in the drinking category. Grabbing skin after skin, he sniffs at each until he finds one full of whiskey. "There... fine. If I have to sleep with her, I wanna be good and drunk." Snorting, he heads back to D'fit.
Jeuneth> Wysonth flies over from the feeding grounds below.
Br'den gasps, his head rocking backwards, as Dryth takes to the air.
Nareisa smiles just a bit at him. "It's nothing to worry about," she says. "Just, well, I've been doing my job, so there's no problem, right?"
Br'den launches himself after the young gold, inexperienced eagerness sending him upwards with a surge of raw power. Let those others, those oldsters, flap after the sun with miserly wingbeats, he shall reach her unreachable star with a blatant display of young strength and virility. His talons grasp at the air in front of him, seeking to rend even such a tenuous opponent in this chase.
Jeuneth> Dryth launches himself after the young gold, inexperienced eagerness sending him upwards with a surge of raw power. Let those others, those oldsters, flap after the sun with miserly wingbeats, he shall reach her unreachable star with a blatant display of young strength and virility. His talons grasp at the air in front of him, seeking to rend even such a tenuous opponent in this chase.
Still as unresponsive as can get, Joslyn stares at K'tor's hand a while yet and then pushes it away with an irritated and dismissive gesture. She doesn't wish to be bothered by such triffles as bronzeriders presently; much more important things controlling her mind.
Jeuneth> Muinyth springs into the sky, muscles tensed, wings straining to push the brown to the nearest thermal. In a rush of bronze and brown wings, the mid sized brown looses sight of Jeuneth for a heartbeat, the only disturbance that seems likely to bring a snarl to his lips. Making use of his small size, and the agility that comes with it, though, he's not long with empty sights, those purple eyes soon fill again with the loveliness that is the young Queen. A rapidly vanishing queen, no less, and he sweeps quickly into a tight upwards spiral in his selected thermal. Not one that'll take him very fast, but one that he knows from experience reaches high into the skies above Southern Weyr.
K'tor is unpreturbed. There *are* children present, and this somehow makes it through to his addled brain. He gestures at J'mis and then at Josy, clearly a plea to help get the goldrider to her feet. Gestures he can manage, but words are beyond him as Albanth takes to the skies.
A'ric grins, and nods, "No probl'm..." He then laughs at E'niel's comment, "She's nae ugly, y' silly people....or d' ye hate her that much?"
Shasta's eyes drift closed, as her mind becomes absorbed in her lifemate's view, but she regains herself gradually. Gritting her teeth, she condescends to acknowledge the presense of one of the bronze riders. "We could risk trying to carry her?" She suggests to K'tor, dryly, a jerk of her head to Joslyn. Sure.
Kinoa watches the still-seated weyrwoman and her circle of admirers, as Luiseth fills her in on the action outside. "You know, not that I'd mind the show, but maybe," she shrugs and looks towards the door. "You might be more comfortable elsewhere?"
A'ric chuckles, and looks at Reis, "I know that -I- don't."
Jeuneth> Albanth is surprisingly one of the first aloft after the glowing queen. Well, he *is* one of the smaller bronzes at Southern, and he makes use of the relative lack of bulk to push air hard and fast under comet tipped wings. The falling star rises for now, quick and strong at Jeuneth's demand.
Br'den's hands go up to cradle his head, which bows, then inexorably lifts again to find Joslyn. "Up," he agrees. "Should go up. Stand up." A one-track mind, a mind in a rut. Or perhaps it's a rutting mind?
In the process of knocking back a healthy swig, E'niel is nearly tossed off his feet as the dragons take to the skies. Spilling a decent amount on his tunic, as well on his shoes, needless to say he misses his mouth. "Shards!" he growls, brushing sporadically at the spots of wet that dribble down the front. A'ric's question is heard, and for a moment he forgets his troubles as he responds, gleam in his eyes, "Nay, he hates me, and well... Have you ever seen her when she dresses up? Can't manage to keep herself clean. I hear Weavers buy several bolts of fabric before each even because they know they gotta make Joslyn another disposible dress." Whew, a mouthfull. Well, one mouthful is exchanged for another, and he drinks.
Nareisa smiles just a bit. "Thank you," is all she says. She winces even more at E'niel's comment and says in a lower vice to A'ric "Sometimes I wonder."
Jeuneth> Not one to be left behind, though yes he was busy preening rather then expecting her to suddenly take aloft... Wysonth comes up dead last. Well, a overeager blue takes to the skies right after him, keep close on his tail as the larger male dragon charges through to sky, bugling anger at himself.
D'fit blinks over at A'ric, his comment making it through whatever haze surround him. "No... I don't hate her at all... I just... Um... " Coherent thought is not something usually expected of people in flights. "There were peaches... And drinks," he finally offers, gripping a nearby chair so he doesn't need to spread his concentration even thinner by maintaining a sense of balance.
Jeuneth> Vagranth is never one to chase a legend, but if there's a rainbow, though only of bronze and brown, then surely Jeuneth is the pot of gold at the end. With a bellow of emotion surging over and through this weathered bronze, he takes to the skies and follows like the shooting stars that dazzle his hide. Wings spread wide, capturing the air and using it for his own, he powers forward, using the reserves of energy lent to him from the bloodbath soon left behind and below. Tilting wingtips, he slices through the air, following the virgin queen like her beloved Lord Leicester.
A'ric snickers, then smiles at Nareisa, "Don't worry about how I think on that score." He then chuckles at E'niel, "Flights are diff'rent. Enjoy it, save the wine for later if y' need it." He chuckles, before saying, "Ye all shoul' go somewhere else...guest weyr, mayhap?"
Jeuneth> Tizonth launches himself into the air, wings snapping open at the last possible second, the sudden sound of wind hitting wingsails quite audible. And just in case that wasn't audible, Tizonth trumpets to Jeuneth. Forget the other males crowding around him, for this bronze knows that the Queen before him is enough of a challenge. Candlelit copper membranes sluice through the evening air, powerful muscles propelling his compact form above the others.
As Vagranth launches into the sky, J'mis rocks back slightly, eyes going up and up, towards the rafters of the weyrhall. He might be constrained to the ground, he might be down here, but Vagranth is in the air, soaring high above in a chase of vivid sunlight.
Jeuneth> With turns of experience under his proverbial belt, and with less bulk to hinder him than some of the others, Ravinth makes his way to the front of the pack of chasers, chestnut-colored wings beating valiantly against the sky. Unable to match the queen in either luminescence or in size, he settles for trying to match her speed for as long as he's able.
Nareisa sighs. "Thank you," she mumbles again.
K'tor siezes on Shasta's comment, gesturing again for her or J'mis to try to take Josy's other arm. N'all was rather specific on this point: riders to the weyr after dragons are in the air. Not the weyr*hall*. He still hasn't *touched* the goldrider yet, though he obviously wishes to. He tries again, "Josy..." Embarassingly, his voice squeaks on the last vowel - perhaps that will get her moving.
Jeuneth> Jeuneth is aloft and that, my friends, is all that matters to this prude of a queen, the flare of her wings billowed to manipulate all too familiar air and strangely reminiscent of a deep and regal robe trailing on the breeze of her chosen thermal. Lingering drops of blood drip away from her oiled hide in those first few seconds of flight, rolling off of her belly and disappearing as into the night sky as they fall away entirely. Well-fed and long-awaited, this demon of a queen leaves her pursuers a long stretch to recover as she darts into the dark camouflage of the night sky.
J'mis blinks. Attention grounded. He snarls once at K'tor, then coughs, his voice raising. "Weyrwoman! Snap to it" he barks at her in his best weyrlingmaster voice, "Get us out of here, faranth forbid!"
A'ric squeezes Nareisa's hand again, giving her a smile. He then snorts over at the group. "Ye don' want me dragging her out o' here, 'cause th' only place I'm draggin -anyone- to t'night is t' my -weyr-." He smirks.
Joslyn blinks, a spark catching in her eyes as she rolls them up to fix upon J'mis. "Don't you talk to me like that. Go away." She fully expects that to work and, considering the man dismissed, goes back to concentrating on her bootheels, neverminding K'tor and his squeak entirely.
E'niel grumbles, "Ahhh wherrybait, I gotta get out of here." As he passes D'fit, the bronzerider mutters, "It'd be just my luck that I won... " he pauses, then with a slippery grin adds, "Or you for that matter. It'd be just Peachy." Snorting, he walks out, trying to get away from the sound of voices as he concentrates... or at least tries to.
E'niel walks toward the Courtyard.
Jeuneth> Simath is content to let her fly herself out, for now anyway, settling into a nice spot in the air currents behind her, doing his best to conserve his strength. For now, she plays; the real fight comes when she tires, and Simath is determined t be ready for that with plenty of energy to spare.
Kinoa presses her lips together and tries not to giggle. "Oh, but that would be a sight," she says, letting her eyes rove over the assorted bronze- and brownriders. She gives a small sigh. "Well, I suppose there'll be leftovers."
Jeuneth> Muinyth is borne upwards by rising air, the warmth of it caressing under his wings as it bouys him higher still. An unlikely flight, it seems, the brown appearing much like a boulder plummeting from a cliff's sandstone face, with the oddity being he's going in the wrong direction. Neck extended as if in hopes of catching whatever drops of liquid lifeblood that fall from Jeuneth's glowing form, he follows her as if only he, and she, were aloft in this night sky. Darkness closes in, envelloping himself and the chasers, but for that tell tale glow that dances far above, a demon risen to soar amongst the stars.
Nareisa blinkblinks at A'ric. That's all.
Jeuneth> Albanth angles up, finding a thermal that will aid his climb after the star that fires his evening: Jeuneth. One of those drops of blood spatters down to roll back along flame-kissed neckridges. Albanth redoubles his speed after that tiny drop baring Jeuneth's essence falls upon him, violet eyes whirling at a near blinding speed with his lust.
A'ric chuckles over at Kinoa, winking at both her and Nareisa.
Jeuneth> Dryth alternatively tilts his wingtips exploring the Southern sky for the presence of a climbing thermal, seeking to aid his ascent after the queen. Finding one, he rises quickly on the heated breath of air, seeking the last beams of light to find, to reveal a golden form. He issues a gravelly challenge to a nearby brown, disappearing into a cloud before breaking through the next, scattering the billow of cloud into disparate fragments.
Shasta releases the clutch her arms held about her midriff, extending one hand towards Josy as if she means to actually /touch/ Joslyn. Fool woman. "Josy, we must leave here." She says, insistantly.
Jeuneth> If Jeuneth wears the regal robe, then surely Vagranth is one of her patient and loyal suitors. He is her court, her loyal subject, her adoring follower. Trailing after her, he lets the ichor flood through sinew and veins, powering wings to pursue the golden sunlight that rises in the opposite direction to him. Might and grace, merge, and flow into this bronze, fueling him onwards, ever onwards as he stretches towards his vision.
J'mis kicks Joslyn's boot. He won't touch her, but he will sort of. "Get up now before I tell Telinda on you!" he threatens, "Remember what you were taught!"
K'tor has had *enough*. Forcing seperation from Albanth, the bronzerider nearly bellows a growl with the effort. He steps forward and does the unthinkable. He hooks both arms under Josy's and hauls her upright. "You *WILL* move! Now, *Weyrwoman*!" Likely not the wisest move, and he'll likely pay dearly for it.
Jeuneth> Ravinth's breathing takes on a sort of rattle as he strives to keep up with the gold and her followers, but he has neither the speed to chase a green nor the stamina for a gold, any longer. With a wretched cry, he angles his wings and plummets groundwards, alone, old, and weary.
Shasta's chin jerks up, as the brownrider looks ready to challenge K'tor for doing just what she'd suggested doing. A green eyed glare finds its way to the bronze rider, though he's likely saved her from a fate worse than death. Besides, only a sevenday after delivering an infant, she's not likely in any state to be hauling goldriders around by the pits.
Jeuneth> Dusk to night, when Wysonth takes flight every muscle in his body goes into action. Cloaked neck arrowed sharply, he angles, testing the air until he catches a updraft that wraps his smoked bronze hide in a grip of death, flinging it upwards in an uncontrolled onslaught. It too takes up the blue that had been following, though the lightness of the smaller dragon allows him the ability to get himself tossed back out again, leaving the cobalt dragon confused and senseless for a moment. Wysonth, however, continues to be tossed about, the wind that pummels his sails sounding loudly on the thin fabric.
Br'den's hands run through his hair again as he watches the tableau before him. Something... something isn't right. What, he doesn't know. But... ah. At K'tor's rude handling of his weyrwoman he half-snarls, stepping forward again. /That/ isn't right! "Let her be! She's *mine*!" His? Surely that's to be debated by the others, but for now Joslyn/Jeuneth is all Dryth/Br'den sees.
Jeuneth> More than likely unaware of their presence at this very moment, Jeuneth leaves her would-be lovers to cover more distance than seems fair as she abandons the mundane dragons and their boring lust. She's all alone and loving it up there where they can't possibly aspire to reach her, the mere hint of a golden star flitting with almost childish abandon among the slowly appearing stars. Well-knowing Ravinth won't be the only to surrender their pursuit, sweet Jeuneth angles with merciless speed away from them all.
Joslyn employs the only option available to her: She hauls off and punches K'tor, aiming straight for his poor jaw. She's a little thing, but she's a scrapper and she's pretty sharding upset right now. A stomp on his toes for good measure and, without a word, she just refuses to leave.
Jeuneth> Albanth climbs with the air of his found thermal. A crosswind over from the beach aids him, the combined winds pushing him higher after the golden evening star he so desires. He is alone, with only his own desire to fuel him, and fuel him it does, burning the ichor in his veins and the strength of his kills. Consumed blood turns to energy as he climbs after the soul of his need. He wastes no energy on displays of aggression or prowess, letting speed and relative agility speak for themselves. Let his lifemate handle those diplays on the ground.
Jeuneth> Tizonth doesn't know these airstreams, for rare visits hardly give one lasting wisdom. But where his own knowledge fails him, keen observation and a quick mind fills in - Tizonth works himself into a position just in the middle of the pack, for from there the smaller bronze can see how the wind treats his rivals, and let their straining bodies block some of it's tantrums from him. Twice-shined hide glitters as the stars and a moons take over from the sun, wings riding the wake of the other dragons, conserving his energy just as he's been taught to do during Threadfall.
Kinoa does likewise with Kayli, turning the girl so that she can't see Joslyn inflicitng the ultraviolence on anyone in reach. Or maybe just K'
K'tor.
Jeuneth> Dryth rushes after Jeuneth, dreaming an impossible dream in his quest, the quest for golden Dulcinea. As darkness descends upon the land and sea, the dark dragon almost disappears, only a golden glint highlights his terracotta belly. For now safely ensconced to one side of the pack, he waits, biding his time until she should tire.
Marila winces and murmurs, "O that one is going to hurt."
K'tor doesn't catch the punch on the jaw - he catches it in the nose, which starts to drip blood. Undaunted by that, though the stomp to his toes nearly makes Josy get her wish, with Kat falling directly on top of her, the bronzerider makes an odd hopping movement and lifts the smaller weyrwoman off her feet, carrying her towards the door. He says nothing, no gasp or groan as his nose is bloodied and toes shredded by bootheel. First things first: get out of here with the weyrwoman, and then see to Albanth. The other stuff will come later.
Jeuneth> Fair? What is fair, in love and war? Muinyth chases on despite the seemingly unconquerable distance that separates him from his would-be lady love. And which this is, love or war, is difficult to discern, when chasing a spitfire such as this young Queen. But love, or in this case perhaps lust, boring or no, will conquer all, they say. Muscles contract and release again and again, driving the brown higher in the sky as he reaches the dwindling end of his selected thermal, as all around him bronzes and browns fill the air. But still, for all the snarled challenges that rip through the atmosphere, the stolid brown pays little mind to the rest, only reacting should one of them block his view for a heartbeat.
A'ric shakes his head, and chuckles a bit, then applauds with one hand, his other busy with Nareisa's.
Nareisa is studiously ignoring the goldrider and her bushel of suitors, and all she does is just lay her head against A'ric. "I'm so tired," she mutters. At the applause she looks up, horrified, and then shrugs. "Greenflights are never this intense."
Jeuneth> Vagranth lets his wings spread out in majestic glory, testing the air with his wingtips, tilting them first one way then the other, searching for that all elusive thermal to carry him towards the star that rises in the sky. If Jeuneth is the star, then he is the moon, chasing her across the sky. Neglecting, the other celestial objects in the sky, he stretches his wings to their fullest extent, fueled by the blood coursing through the ichor in his veins and arteries, they aid his powerful downsweeps, letting him take full advantage of the thermal once found. Valiantly, he follows the arc of radiant light that rockets across the sky, for he is no icarus heading to the sun, he's found his beacon, and she is all his vision requires.
Kinoa nods at Nareisa, somewhat smugly. "Course not." Yes, she takes that as the highest compliment/
Jeuneth> Jeuneth honestly has no intentions of being caught, ever. She is Jeuneth and she is a queen and she does what she wants when she wants and no one can make her come down so just quit trying - that's her philosophy tonight, and it's going to make for one tiresome chase before she deigns to surrender and be kept. She does it so effortlessly, so fluid and graceful with each steady sweep of fiery wingsails. The inferno that shades her hide fuels her pure instinct to get away from them all, and she succumbs to it so willingly, the great dragon controlled by a greater passion.
A'ric chuckles, moving to put an arm around Reis, "Nay, they're not...makes me somewhat glad I'm a bluerider." he chuckles, enjoying the scene.
Jeuneth> All is not lost for Wysonth, for the burly bronze finally manages to dislodge himself from the powerful draft that sent him up so high. Hovering for a fraction of a moment, he again catches sight of his prize not far away, as the draft had made up for the moments he had lost being left behind on the ground. Bugling his pleasure at the sight, cold cast bronze angles for the liquid fire that streaks the sky, his wingbeats long and powerful as they thrust him back into the race again. Farfar below the eager blue answer the bugle with one of his own, much more muted, and again he too reenters the race, charging through the sky like the little engine that could.
Joslyn kicks a lot, a few good blows catching her escort but it's mostly a futile effort. There's not much one can do in this position - except scream. She does some of that, screaming bloody murder all the way out the door. She simply must make a scene, you know.
Nareisa hms, evidently in agreement.
Jeuneth> Simath has no intention of forcing the issue. Knowing Jeuneth since birth, he knows that nothing and noone, usually not even Josy, can move that immovable mountain. Instead, he continues his gold-matching pace, awaiting that blissful moment when running becomes seeking, and she needs the loving support of someone who cares, has always cared.
K'tor is immune to screaming. After all, he's heard it all before. As a matter of fact, there's a rather surprising grin, smeared with the blood dripping down from his nose, on his lips as he carries the screaming weyrwoman out.
A'ric chuckles again, before turning his attention to the bluerider next to him.
Jeuneth> Albanth keeps to his winds, using the crosswind from the beaches and ocean to aid his dizzying climb after the precious firestone he burns for. Relatively agile for a bronze, he makes use of his smaller size to increase his speed, massive green-tipped wings yearning to consume and be consumed in the inferno above. His tail screams through the air, the only sound from this bronze the wind from his passage.
D'fit looks perplexed, if anything. Ought he go rescue Joslyn, who is playing the part of the damsel in distress rather well. Or maybe he should help K'tor, for the Weyrling training rattling around in his head says they are supposed to be elsewhere. The end result is D'fit approaches the pair, hovering about like some old auntie trying to help.
Jeuneth> Pure instinct, not experience, is what guides Dryth this night. Only instinct, and the golden, shining, immortal form of Jeuneth arrowing deep into the night before him. She is what drives him on, powers his wings. The others? Inconsequential. All of them.. except her. Patience is his trademark, irrististable dryness that creeps over the land and skies, parching all that comes within his sights.
Br'den follows K'tor and his kicking burden, eyes now fully glazed.
K'tor strides over to the courtyard.
Br'den strides over to the Courtyard.
D'fit walks toward the Courtyard.
You stride over to the Courtyard.
Br'den comes around a slight bend in the path, visisble through the foliage as he approaches.
Br'den heads into the cottage, shutting the door behind himself.
Jeuneth> Muinyth persues the liquid fire high above him, that inferno mimicing a golden dragon, his head turned upwards as if to warm himself by the light of her. Driven onwards and upwards by a strong passion of his own, each stroke of earthen wings increases his separation from the ground again and again, relentlessly. Feuled by more than just the blood of his kills, instinct takes over, causing the brown to neglect the screaming muscles of his wings, the searing heat that his heart flames with, the burning of his lungs, in his desrire to be singed by proximity to jeuneth.
Jeuneth> Vagranth has no philosophy, unless you consider chase, chase, ever forward, ever onward, never resting, never stopping one? Well, perhaps. Letting his wings create vortices within the air, aiding his struggle to move through the air at ever increasing speeds, he seeks for and gets another burst of strength. Reserves dwindling, but not yet exhausted, he powers forward, the meteor piercing the ebony veil. Inferno rises before him, flames beckoning him, the golden luminous form of Jeuneth always just out of reach, but not forever. Flames can be banked, and but coals will always glow if the heat is great enough.
Br'den comes out from the cottage, letting the doorway swing closed behind him.
You step into the cottage, stomping a bit of sand from your feet as you enter the shady interior.
C'al comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
Br'den comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
K'tor comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
J'mis comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
C'al comes in, looking a bit sweaty from the hike over, which he apparently took at a jog. His eyes are distant and distracted though, clearly up with his dragon in the sky.
Shasta comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to her and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
Not at all happy to be here, blood having rushed to her head and her throat a bit raw from screaming like a child all the way, Joslyn does a few more painful things to poor K'tor as he enters. Oh! Mind the marbles on the floor, everyone. There must be at least two dozen rolling around somewhere. Don't ask.
E'niel comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
J'mis isn't out of breath, really, it's just his breathing is coming a little faster, a little more ragged than normal. As he enters ....whoops, okie, who put the marbles out?!
K'tor carries Josy, screaming, kicks and all, the entire way. He nearly trips on the marbles on the floor, which causes him to release the goldrider, though not before she takes a wicked bite out of his left forearm. That finally gets a hiss of pain, and he reaches out to wipe blood from face and arm now before Albanth, impatient at the delay, claims him again.
Jeuneth> Tizonth seems quite aware of Jeuneth's plan to simply fly forever, and though his young body soars with a lithe, powerful grace, the bronze does not waste his energy trying to touch the intangible yet. He waits and bides his time, letting his rivals do the work. True, riding the wake puts him in the pit of vipers, so to speak - An older brown hisses menacingly at his mettallic foe, diving down as if to push him out of the way. But Tizonth's compact form aids him in this, and it's a mere push of his wings that propels him to safety, as the brown drops out.
D'fit comes in from the path, a bit of sand clinging to his and sprinkling onto the wooden floors.
Shasta's bootsoles thump across the wooden floor as she enters, and a polished blue marble skitters into a corner as her toe finds it. Piercing glares still find their way to the back of K'tor - were they able to inflict real pain, they'd be on a par with what Josy's inflicting upon him, and he'd have one sore backside. Er. Back. She's more concerned with Joslyn's back/side/.
E'niel trails in dragging his feet. Even though he didn't seem horribly interested in bedding Joslyn, he just couldn't resist following to see what happens to K'tor. Or at least that is what he tells himself. Drawn by /something/, the bronzerider enters, slips immediately to the nearest wall, and plants himself firmly against it as he watches, eyes darkly hooded.
Jeuneth> Immensely pleased with herself - pleased to the point of smugness - dark Jeuneth toys with her dedicated lovers in a purely malicious fashion. Having spent the primal need to distance herself from the males, she now indulges a bit of the sadist in herself, allowing those torturously fired wings to cut angles in the humid night air, a wavering course drawing her over the romantically moonlit sea. Pretty, huh?
Br'den followed close behind K'tor and his burden the entire way, agilely ducking the wilder swings that came his way. An older brother is Brid, and it shows. The muffled cries and pings of disturbed marbles bring him back to a semblance of sanity, and he looks around, dazed, with an expression of disgust at the clutter.
J'mis ends up on the floor. Well, now that he's here, he isn't getting up again until he has to. Curling forearms around his knees, he watches, silently, the goldrider, though by the expression on his face he's not really here.
Jeuneth> Simath is, at the least, impressed with her toyings. Long on the sharp end of her tail, if you will, and never very liked by her, he is used to the teasing treatment he is receiving. Still, he continues his silent and tireless pursuit of the glowing golden comet.
Joslyn delivers a good kick for K'tor's shins before she storms away from him, tearing across the messy cottage to some little recess only she's ever likely to note. Tucked away over there in the corner, with her back pressed up against the bedframe and her butt once again planted on the floor, Josy curls up and hides. Leave her be.
C'al focuses here enough to comment, "K'tor, I have to tell you, I have always wanted to do that."
Jeuneth> Dryth continues his flight towards cruel golden fire. Like a moth to a flame, he's inefably drawn, even to his distruction. What good here dryness, when all around is moist, flapping wings? Still he presses on, now slipping in behind a larger Southern bronze to use the others' slipstream.
D'fit finds a lovely box of buttons to fall against, er, sit down next to. The pleasant tinkle of buttons bouncing against one another announces he wasn't quite as graceful at it as he may have liked. One pleasant law of gravity, though - There's no *way* you can fall off the ground. At least he hopes not.
Jeuneth> Whatever the lady of the night requires, the lady can have. If flying over the see makes her happy, then that's what Vagranth will do. He flies, an echo of the shadow that below silently skims the surface of the waves, never leaving a wake of foam behind him, but there nonetheless. Above he follows the lady in her dance across the skies, accompanying her along with her other suitors, but lagging behind slightly as the flight takes an unexpected diversion across the sky.
Jeuneth> Albanth cuts comet-streaked wings hard against the friendly landward breeze that had so aided his climb after the fired jewel. The main spar bone dip sacrificing a bit of forward speed in order to make the turn seawards. His tail twists, the air underneath screaming resistance though aiding his banking turn. The burning star of reddish, green-tipped bronze bronze streaks out over the ocean, towards the only thing that can halt him from a plunge to the ground: the burning conflageration that is Jeuneth.
Jeuneth> Playing with the translucency of Wysonth's wingsails, little pinpricks of starlight flicker as if numerous tiny candles burning just on the other side of a taunt brown-paper shade. It is work to keep up with the angles cut in the sky, but he attempts in an ever lasting passion to win. Once he falls into the length of males that follow tightly behind the queen as if the trail to her dress of handfasting. The vail of night shrouds his movements, and stealth is his friend, for unlike the poor blue who strays far behind, this bronze has the stamina of youth, and the knowledge of age, and both of these he puts together to create a formula that will give any dragon a run for their money. If only he can get to her first.
K'tor leans against a wall, tiredly nursing his wounds and attempting to keep his attention on Albanth. Leave Josy alone? Certainly, absolutely - For Now. It is not the first blood he has shed in the name of love or lust, nor will it be the last. Stormy grey eyes focus on Josy, not hearing C'al's words, though they surely would have provoked a grin any other time.
Jeuneth> Muinyth turns face to the sea-borne wind, as the golden one streaks over the ocean, high above. A plaything he is, and well toy-able. Amid the smear of males stretching out across the sky trailing after her, like marbles spilled from a child's pouch to roll downhill, he struggles on. Naught matters but the golden one ahead - creulty aside, he'd clearly sacrifice anything to have her. While others dip low to chase barely above the waves, Muinyth holds dearly onto his hard won altitude. While legend long ago forgotten tells a tale of one burned for trying to fly too close to the sun, this earthen brown seems eager to contest the validity of the legend, aiming his lofty goal higher and higher, after Jueneth's liquid fire.
Br'den stumbles over a box of something, hands flailing out to catch himself against a window-ledge. Solidity found, he fumbles his way to a seat on the sill, gulping as his shadowy brown eyes search out the One lost deep in shadows of her own.
Jeuneth> It's the tempest in the queen, the strange and unruly need to agitate everyone as much as possible, that leads her ever toward the horizon. The blood of five 'beasts already thinning as it pumps through her golden and glowing veins, Jeuneth MUST be growing tired by now. Though, with the way she skirts the feathery hints of clouds and darts among the distant sparkle of stars, it's not showing yet. Blood or no, there's still the cruel necessity to fly tauntingly before those valiant enough to pursue this long, and that keeps her going undaunted.
Shasta flicks aside a marble, the sphere riccocheting off a box, as she takes up her earlier stance. Chin up, shoulders back, she's quite willing to stay far back from Joslyn. Let Muinyth play with fire - should he survive, perhaps she'll have a chance to toy with certain death later.
Jeuneth> Tizonth ignores his rivals once the irate brown is out of the way. Jeuneth's toying and malevolent tendencies are all the challenge this bronze cares to address. Although youthful energy bouys his every downsweep, Tizonth seems intent on out-thinking Jeuneth. Sinuous, nearly ethereal curves flow through the air with all the fluidity of the ocean he flies above, the copper mottling to his hide lit from beneath with the flickering luminescence of light reflecting off the water. As moonlight catches and illuminates in the tender fabric of wingsails pushing the air, the copper flares with a wondrous brilliance that is nearly translucent, as if candlelight behind copper painted glass. And yet Tizonth shows none of the Romeo tendancies of some of the others, approaching this as a challenge and a privledge.
Joslyn flinches at all the noise in here, interrupting her distracted train of thought so that she has no choice but to clap her palms over her ears. Looking very much like she'd rather be anywhere but here - and likely isn't all that HERE to begin with - the goldrider stays neatly curled up and out of reach.
Jeuneth> Dryth is beginning to tire now, redoubted strength of youth or not. She a Tempest? Faranth forbid he wait for his Twelveth Flight to catch her! A breeze wafts over him, fanning his ardor to new heights. And to new heights he ascends, crawling his way towards her, never shall he Capulet-ulate.
Jeuneth> Agitate? Albanth? The bronze has a playful steak of his own, though far less sadistic than the golden queen above. In this chase, however, she is the master and he the slave - For Now. If he is fortunate enough, clever enough, strong enough, then perhaps later he might show her that some times it is more pleasant to give in. He finds some well deep within him to pull forth the strength to match his will and desire. The fabric of the gossamer spun clouds parts before him as his comet streaks through the sky, still desperate to drown in the merry hell that is Jeuneth's fire.
Jeuneth> Vagranth follows, flying ever after and ever for the glowing Jeuneth. He is amongst the end of the group now, having lost valuable time in the last unexpected turn that the queen made, and is now the trailing edge of the storm, not the leading. Stretched out before him like the twisting winds and rains of a hurricane, he finally relents, tilting a wingtip and dipping away from the mainstream. Leaving the tempest to filter out without his efforts.
Jeuneth> Simath edges forward some more, finally emitting a soft croon of encouragement to his ever-difficult sibling, wings moving in that same areful pace he has set for himslf, though even he is starting to look a bit flagged.
J'mis blinks, then stands, rushing out of the cottage with nary a glance backward.
J'mis heads out to the path, the smell of salt and sand creeping in through the open door.
Jeuneth> Muinyth is emminently tauntable, as the cliff hewn brown angles as best he can towards Jeuneth. Violet eyes fix upon her, a lifeline, a rope of vision cast out to catch hold of his dreams. Steadied by it, pulled onwards by the fantasy that is the golden dragon, his wings drive hard with each stroke. His energy, lent to him by the sacrifice of those beasts he blooded, begins to fail, though he is bouyed on by what seems to be little more than pure determination.
Jeuneth> Little engine blue gives a piteous wail before ducking out of the race, his will stronger then his might. Without giving the small and younger dragon much thought, Wysonth trudges on. Leveling, his motions become methodical, his breath the music of a billowy trumpet that comes in a continual repetitive rhythm. Life for the moment revolves around the molten red-gold underbelly, soft as it is, for he rides low, angling high, his mark on the one who works to make his life a painful living hell as his wings start to feel the burn.
Jeuneth> Vagranth soars to the Southern Weyrs below.
Br'den wraps his arms around himself again, rocking slightly in the sea breeze wafting in the wide window.
Jeuneth> Jeuneth has out-flown at least two of her smaller pursuants now, and takes malicious pleasure in the knowledge that sturdy Vagranth has surrendered. But her own toying path has straightened to a pure, golden arrow out and up over the sea, the tropical night lending perfect subterfuge for the shadowed flame of her regal hide. Employing the remnants of her reserves, she makes one last and valiant struggle to rid herself of those pitiful creatures vying for her affections. The prize is tiring rapidly.
K'tor remains leaning against a wall, snuffling back blood absently from his nose. Grey eyes never leave Josy's shadows, the maelstorm in them providing shadows of their own. He will be black and blue tomorrow but, wrapped up with Albanth, he doesn't feel it. His frame tenses, as his lifemate in the skies makes an all or nothing attempt to claim the inferno for his own. Perhaps here will be a fire for the thunderstorm in Kat's eyes to quench and claim for his own.
Jeuneth> Simath surges forward, finally ready to make this a Flight instead of a game as he sees her starting to flag. Forlegs reaching out, voice just ahead of them in an enticing entreaty; here is someone that will support you while you are tured and take your whipping when you are not! Closer and closer he edges towards the gold, eyes excited and hopeful.
Definitely terrified now, Joslyn drags her legs up against her chest and puts her chin on her knees and sits all tense and worried. Well, a LITTLE tense and worried. She's mostly caught up with a certain gold being particularly cruel to such charming suitors - it's just that tiny piece that's still Josy that's worried.
Jeuneth> Muinyth's flagging strength is given new life, feuled by the sight of the golden fire just beyond, as he overtakes a smaller brown. Again, and again, relentlessly, his wings pound the air as he struggles in his never ending struggle against gravity - the pull of the earth to one of it's own, greedily trying to reclaim the sandstone brown. Taunted and toyed with, he's as close to being whipped into a frenzy by Jeuneth as anyone's yet to see him. With each rhythmic stroke of his wings, he nears her, streaking through wind that's had the privilidge of caressing her wings, jealously whipping it behind him. Can he overtake her before a bronze, bigger and with more energy, can rip her from the sky? Can he twine with her, daring to be scorched, and hang her amidst the stars of the night, before a more agile brown might foul her wings? The last few dragonlengths close, his heart pounding, his granite head outstretched, as he nears her from behind and below.
Jeuneth> Dryth's flight path abruptly opens as the bronze in front of him drops to wrangle with a clutchsib. Drawing on his last, hoarded resources, he plunges forward, partially furling his wings to gain precious needed speed. Down he plummets, straight towards the wan moon lifting over the sea, and towards Jeuneth, golden fire of new day's dawn. With a strangled, gravelly croon, he announces his presence to her glory, his tail stretching forward even as his wings prepare to catch, to care and to hold. If only, if only...
Jeuneth> Alone but not alone, Wysonth tears a hole in the sky, his darkly cast muzzle cutting a sharp path through the darkness in which he presides. He can catch her, it is why he lives and breathes, for though often he seeks, 'like Icarus, to fly too high, and far to lonely then he ought, to kiss the sun of east and west, and hold the world at his behest- To hold the terrible power, to whom only the queens are blessed.' He devises to taste of that power, and pouring on the last of his reserves, the coldcast bronze digs his claws deep in the night, and with a rageful intent, pummels the sky with his wings, taking himself to the point where he can twine his tail with hers, if only he had an inch more... just an inch.
Jeuneth> Tizonth feels a sudden surge of energy as he sees Jeuneth's own ability to keep off her suitors lessening. As dragons tire around him, this bronze joins those finding their second wind - A sudden sweep from the absolute limits of his reach propels him out of his carefully chosen place, leaving behind the ease of flying in another's wake to forge out on his own. Pulled on by how close he's come, surging with confidence at how well his plan has worked so far, every fiber in his muscular form pulls him upward. Higher and higher past Jeuneth until his path peaks, and the bronze dives to intercept Jeuneth, pulling wings in close to his compact form for maximum speed.
Jeuneth> Albanth's amethyst eyes see the faintest suggestion of the flames beginning to flicker, the smoke begining to billow up as the bellows run dry. The comet streaks forth, putting all of his energy, heart and desire into a desperate climb for Jeuneth. He blooded four, far more than he ever has before, and his strength is still that of youth, desire and determination. Let that strength be used up now for this falling star, else let the fire be quenched in the ocean. The Master is just above, the slave reaching hard for her for This is his Time. Albanth's neck reaches out, as does that whiplike tail, seeking to ensnare and be consumed by the flames. Or perhaps to teach and to be taught again that sometimes, it is better to be caught.
Jeuneth> Jeuneth has selected her lover - she has not been CAUGHT, mind you. She has chosen to end this flight and she has chosen the one she'll end it with. Disappointed to end her own flirting, the last of her strength is spent and she employs her decision at last: The metallic cast of bronze hides don't attract this perverse queen nearly so much as the sturdiness of pure stone angling so bravely beneath her - she'll have Muinyth or she'll have no one.
K'tor stumbles from the weyr, hardly realizing what he is doing. To add insult to injury, he stumbles on the marbles on the way out, tripping and sprawling out the door.
K'tor heads out to the path, the smell of salt and sand creeping in through the open door.
Jeuneth> Dryth plunges past with a cry of despair, hurtling towards the sea so far below. Wings snap out barely in time to keep the drought-riddled brown from a sudden drenching as he beats his forlorn way back to the coast.
Jeuneth> Burnt by the sun, Wysonth screams his pain to the heavens, then in a wild tumble, he tosses himself away, allowing himself to fall to the earth at an alarming pace.
Br'den lunges to his feet with a cry, not really understanding what, or where, or... who. Who
Jeuneth> Muinyth curls his sandstone form around the fire of Jeuneth, stone melding with flame, two of the only sure protections from Thread mingling to create a third high above the ocean's waves. Wings spread wide, he supports /his/ queen, and hangs her amid the stars as promised, the ocean breeze caressing both their hides unnoticed.
E'niel smirks and heads out, shaking his head. The moment he is past the door, the smirk is washed from his lips as he feels the pain of loss his lifemate douses him in.
E'niel heads out to the path, the smell of salt and sand creeping in through the open door.
Jeuneth> Albanth's comet falls back towards the earth, barely missing its brush with the sea. He levels out, far below, and limps awkwardly towards the beach.
Br'den lunges to his feet with a cry, not really understanding what, or where, or... who. 'Who' he knows. Not him. Another cry, this one muted, and he stumbles back outside, rebounding against the doorsill before finding the egress.
Br'den heads out to the path, the smell of salt and sand creeping in through the open door.
Jeuneth> Tizonth doesn't make a peep as the brown twines with the gold. Forget all his bugles and such from earlier - enthusiasm gives way to introspection as he contines his dive past the pair, trying to decide where he went wrong.
C'al has left.
D'fit heads out to the path, the smell of salt and sand creeping in through the open door.
*** END LOG ***