//all hallow's eve [Callistath's Flight]

Now that the orange hatching was over Poseith seemed to have returned to his normal self. F'ton, for one, was grateful... even if it meant that the iron went out of his way to treat subqueens and queens with "respect" by introducing himself and the like. Despite his usually somber exterior, Poseith seemed to be getting more confident in socializing as he continued to win more Flights. That was something F'ton wasn't amused with. F'ton didn't need to talk to all these other people. He had his own friends and he had his family he visited occasionally and he didn't need more people to over-complicate his life. He loved Poseith, though, and he didn't fault the dragon for trying to be the best dragon he could be. He just probably wasn't the right rider for the job. He'd never be a strong leader, like O'sho or R'len. F'ton was ordinary, thrust into an extraordinary set of consequences. Recent occurrences had only proved that fact and further settled it into his mind.

He didn't mind being ordinary, though. He had a best friend to hang out with (despite the extenuating circumstances with that) and he had Echelon and Doll to take care of. At this late hour the blue flit and the pink pillie had snuggled up next to him in his bed as he sat quite literally whittling away the last candlemarks of the day. His trip to the beach had, at the very least, allowed him to obtain more driftwood for his purposes. The dried pieces lay neatly stacked in a corner of his room (opposite from the tub of water he had appropriated for Doll). Yet, even in his relaxed state he could feel the tension rising in the Weyr. Poseith's distracted state of mind for the past sevenday had confirmed his theory that, soon, a Queen would rise. He was not surprised, then, when a roar erupted from outside that shook the very foundations of the Bowl. With resignation he set his carving and his knife on his bedside table and silently cued Echelon to tuck Doll in for the night. He got to his feet, already feeling the overwhelming sensation of the Flight threatening to topple him over. At least this time he expected it.

F'ton shoved his feet into his boots (not noticing they were on the wrong feet) and stumbled his way out into the adjacent room where Poseith was waiting. C'mon, boy... let's get this over with. The dragon nodded and gave a short hum, then crouched so that F'ton could climb into place. As the iron flew toward the Weyr of the Junior Weyrwoman, F'ton tried to reconcile the last sober thoughts in his head. He hated how he might grow accustomed to this insanity. The fact that he had become some dull figure toted around by an iron dragon bothered him beyond comprehension. What could he do, though? He couldn't stop Poseith from flying any more than Poseith could help the results of the Flight spilling over into his rider. After this, he told himself, he would do something different. Whether it be trying harder to help out his wing or taking candidates for tours around the Weyr, he had to step it up. He would step it up.

His feet hit the stone floor of Callistath's ledge and his personal oath was quickly forgotten. The present had crept up on him like a tunnelsnake, poisoning him into only caring about what was going on in the moment. Past and future didn't matter any more than the flapping of a domestic wherry's wing. He stumbled into the room and noted who had come before him. Several men were there already, some older and some younger. He caught sight of Avalle and swallowed hard. Since she was the Junior Weyrwoman and he was an ordinary hermit, he had never really had a chance to talk to her. He wouldn't know what to say to her even if he wasn't in a lust-ridden stupor. So he tried his best to contort his face into the semblance of a smile and gave a nod right before he stumbled over to lean on a wall to gain his bearings.

Poseith, meanwhile, had taken his place along the rim to wait for Callistath's call. He had made it just in time to hear her invitation and thought it one of incredible eloquence and etiquette. He would not disappoint her; Poseith was nothing if he was not a respectful dragon. He bugled a reply to her might roar, although he took care not to shout more loudly than she, and took to wing after her. Thank you, my Queen, he sent his gratitude for the invitation in more than just words. The whole heart of this knight in iron armor was hers to command. He would not overburden her with too many words, though. He was not the kind of man to embellish needlessly. Poseith was here, Callistath would know he was here, and he would follow the glow of her hide to the ends of the earth.

If F'ton had been sober enough, he would have dwelt on the pointlessness of this endeavor (which, in some small sense, would have made him happy). With older, more experienced kings than Poseith giving chase they were not likely to be chosen. Even Valleth, a bronze that had caught before the eldest gold of Dalibor, was chasing. But such facts and figures were far from his mind. He was far from his mind. Only Poseith's experience mattered and he clung to every heartbeat and every downward sweep of his wings.

Kaezeth had noticed his Queen's radiant hide as of late, and had realized that his time spent as her King may soon be up. He had never been a possessive dragon - he had given her respectful, due distance and only come to her when she requested it of him, and it had served him well. While R'len toiled away at the duties of a Jr. Weyrleader, Kaezeth got the good end of the bargain. He took immense pride in his rank and enjoyed the rights to flaunting that it gave him.

He perched, solid and thick, at the edge of his weyr and waited. Callistath would doubtless rise soon, he suspected, and when she flew shining from her ledge to kill, Kaezeth tense. He readied himself. He measured his breath and raised his wings. Only when she called did he rise to Chase her, because that was only proper. He knew better than to rush a lady.

And as she rose glowing in the setting sun, others followed after her. A great many of them were young; much younger than Kaezeth. Some, as far as he was concerned, barely out of the egg. And perhaps they had a chance with the Queen, for she was young as well, but had no choice but to hold proudly by his age. It brought him experienced; brought him precision and prowess. On any regular day, Kaezeth would have nothing but respect for his colleagues, but this night he would be sure only in himself. A soaring trumpet released from his muscular neck as he announced himself. Queen Callistath, I am here, he said simply. It was a time for action, not for words.

He felt lust and energy swelling throughout his being as he hauled his body into the sky. His duty as a King drove him onward and he trumpeted again to the beautiful creature that he wanted to please so badly. Faintly, he was aware of a human body left being in a weyr somewhere far below - a human that he was also very proud of. A man feeling his age perhaps beyond his years, but bearing it like a crown; a man in love and made strong and diligent because of it. Kaezeth grinned to himself as his pumped his wings. He felt immensely good about himself and hoped that it would bear him through to the end. Callistath, after all, was a gift of such radiance that no dragon in his right mind would willingly leave her behind.

In his weyr, R'len fought with his fading consciousness. It was a tug-of-war between his mind and the forceful lust of Kaezeth's. Briefly, he was aware that Kaezeth had left - enough to register it and wonder about acting on it. Kaezeth's longing ache streamed its way into his body, too, and he began to feel light-headed. Even if he was a veteran to this ordeal, there were no bounds to a dragon's Flightlust. He stood; swayed. He wasn't sure if he should go to Avalle out of courtesy or shy away to his Nimara, but his feet were moving of their own accord and he found himself navigating the recesses of Dalibor to his Weyrwoman's quarters. She already had a collection of suitors and R'len felt out of place in his ragged, beardy nature - but it was soon replaced with Kaezeth's endless confidence.

In the sky, the iron sang guttural songs to his Queen. Not only to flatter her, but also to boast of the energy his strong bones held, or else he would surely explode from all of his love.

Oh there were so many beautiful dragons in the skies chasing after his Queen! Shirath was confused by some of them. The irons were gorgeous as were the bronzes. The blues and the viridian were just as beautiful not to mention the other purple. Shirath performed a twirl (C’ian doing the same in the Weyr) and then drew up close to Valleth before twirling away again. He just didn’t know at all what to do! All these beautiful dragons were flying around him like a rainbow in the sky! If only dear Ocouth had remained then it would have been a beautiful rainbow in earnest but only because Shirath’s purple hide went so well with the yellow’s. Shirath attempted to perform a roll but the wind caught him off course. He was flung backwards a couple of paces and squalled but the sound was drowned out by the wind.

Fighting hard, the purple battled against the wind in order to catch the ground he had lost, frustrated and annoyed that he could not fly as swiftly as the wind itself. Eventually, he managed to almost catch up with the gold but she suddenly performed some swoops and dives. Shirath was in awe. Not since his hatching had he ever seen such a magnificent creature. A blue with spots shot past his vision, flying diagonally through the air and catching currents of wind in order to propel himself forwards and catch up with the gold.

Sholth found the wind difficult to navigate but it only added to the challenge. He would win this time, he knew it. He was following the Queen’s tactics only dropping underneath the wind flying in the opposite direction to him. Eventually he came up behind Hemetath and began drafting behind the gigantic iron, also attempting to avoid the eddies of air around the larger dragon’s wings. This would hopefully also give him more strength and an ability to fly for much longer than he ought. Of course, he was tiring now and it was difficult to keep up with all the much larger dragons.

Sholth was not a quitter though! He would fly onwards until his Queen had picked him for he would be chosen! This he knew. He was magnificence incarnate and if she did not recognise that then she was at fault. His intellect knew no bounds! In the Weyr, Awston rolled her eyes feeling the lust wearing off as Sholth flew less out of lust and far more out of a determination not to quit.

Deretsoth flew steadily through the air, undeterred by the wind attempting to pull him in directions he wished not to take. The brown remained as calm as ever, flying as much for himself as he was for the Weyr. C’at, he knew, was confused and worried but Deretsoth was sure of himself and sure of these actions. As his rider gave himself more fully into the lust, the brown dragon flew faster and stronger to keep up with the Queen as she dipped through the wind currents. He did not twirl to follow her, merely adjusted himself so that should she take a wholly unprecedented path, he would be ready to continue following.

It was a simple enough matter really. Follow the gold dragon for she was a difficult sight to miss. The gold was literally glowing through the sky so even if she did change paths too quickly, he would be able to counter it himself. Plus, in spite of his bulk, he was certain he could move faster than her or any of the larger dragons here. Deretsoth was undeterred.

Kaezeth continue to rumble, bark, and bugle. It was habit; he did it to spur himself onward, to expend some of his electric energy, and to hopefully strike fear or admiration into the hearts of those who flew around him. As the flight wore on, however, Kaezeth's reserves grew thinner, and he sealed his maw and clenched it. All energy was put towards flying after Callistath, straight and true. There were no tricks to curl from his wings; no sky-dances or shows of agility. Kaezeth was too large for such maneuvers. What he had in terms of stamina, however, were honed with Turns of astounding fitness.

He believed in his body. He believed in the shining green muscles that moved beneath his lustrous iron hide. He believed in the strength of his wings. He had plenty of mettle, but above all else, he believed in Callistath. Perhaps not enough to call her beauty the best in all of Pern - for he had seen many sorts of beauty in dragonesses and to claim that one trumped all the others was unfair - but he believed in her strength as a Queen. She bore fine children and she lead fine dragons in Threadfall. She was leader among ladies and a lady among leaders. He found her demeanor just as dazzling as her golden hide. Her youth, as well, meant promise for dragonkind. There was no doubt that Kaezeth wanted her badly. He had caught her before, and meant to catch her again, if she would have him.

As the string of dragons left the Weyr behind, R'len's mind left behind its body. He was Kaezeth, now, soaring through the dimming evening after the second, false sun that was Callistath. He was faintly aware of having his feet on the ground and his back against a wall, but it felt like only a distant memory. Their minds were too far off to bother with the placement of a tiny human's feet. R'len-Kaezeth was, however, very much aware of his dragon feet. Each finger and toe tingled with the rush of blood and gravity's pull. His wings beat tirelessly, but they were beginning to feel the burn. He kept up his pace despite this; if there was ever a time to push himself, it was now.

When Callistath was still so far ahead of him, there were no excuses. He would not rest until she chose him, or she left him. The future was uncertain, but Kaezeth pretended that it was. He promised himself that his beautiful golden Queen would still be his, and it kept him flying hard.

The winds were making this a difficult flight, and the longer Callistath flew the more she realized this. But she wasn't about to stop or give up until she'd had her fill of flying. The suitors could all drop out if they wanted to, she didn't care. She'd keep flying until she had no will to continue on. With a powerful flap of her wings, Callistath rose slightly. Her speed was slowing, though. It was an obvious drop in speed, and she was not going to continue on for much longer. She needed to make her choice, now. So she finally swooped around and above the suitors, giving herself a quick glimpse of them without fully letting them know she was looking at them.

There was still a blue flying after her, she had to notice. Sholth. He was quite the persistant one. She almost admired that. He certainly was devoted to her, to keep flying for so long in such awful weather. Such stamina for a blue. But she made no move towards him. Her mind wasn't even close to made up, the blue had simply caught her gaze for a moment. She pushed forward again, continuing her flight in the opposite direction. They were all tiring out, she knew. It was time to chose.

She flew somewhat closer to Kaezeth. He'd been Hers for some time now, hadn't he? But WAS he really Hers? Callistath wasn't entirely sure. She also wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to pick Kaezeth, simply because she'd had him once. She'd never picked the same King twice before, why start now? Though this was really only her third flight, so that was somewhat of a redundant thing. But she had to make up her mind. Perhaps she could try something new. Kaezeth was nice, he gave her quite a large clutch, but... perhaps there was something better? She swooped above the suitors, changing direction again.

They'd all cut their chatter, she noticed. There was no one singing her praises, allowing Callistath to fly silently through the sky, as she'd wanted. That was nice. She had to give them all credit for that, at least. They'd managed to regain a little bit of their dignity. She was somewhat amused with the antics of some of them, such as the purple that'd joined her chase. He was quite agile. He would probably give her a good clutch. But she wasn't quite sure about him. He seemed a little bit flighty. The other Kings that flew for her all simply followed her respectfully. It was nice, though a bit hard to tell one from the other with the stormy weather.

Finally, she'd made up her mind. This one would work, she'd decided. He was strong, and had a sort of quiet sweetness that she enjoyed. He was interesting, and new. It was a bit more of a difficult decision than she'd anticipated, honestly. But she had to make it. You may catch me, Akanith, she allowed him, although her words were merely a formality. Callistath twined herself with the Iron, letting him take over the rest to carry them safely to the ground. Yes, she decided. She was fairly satisfied with her choice.

With Callistath's mind made up, Avalle found herself back in her weyr. Her mind was still fairly fuzzy and muddled with lust, but she knew who to go for. Akanith's rider. She eyed her suitors until she sought out the right one. Z'an was fairly unfamiliar to her, but she could recognize him easily enough. She didn't have too much time to think about Callistath's choice in rider before she grabbed him and kissed him, closing her eyes and letting the flightlust take over.