We All Shine On [Flight of the Twins]

He was ready. He had watched. He had waited. Every movement of the glowing hides had been studied and calculated. It was fortunate that his human had chosen a weyr so well placed, just below and toward the setting light of day: When the sisters coiled together at night their spiced scent wafted down the walls to where he stood. Waiting. Watching. By day he followed them with his eyes as he soaked in the warmth from stone and sky, and by night his vigil was kept upon his weyrledge where he sat, still and patient as the very rock which supported him. Oh how they made him wait; coy and unquestioning, never aware of the commanding effect they had on him. The urge they instilled in him to stalk. To hunger. Time passed, but he took no note of it, save for when his bonded had need of him, or tasks were required of them. Uneventful time…until tonight.

It was the movement that alerted him to this night’s change. He was like a statue on his ledge, thickly muscled haunches coiled beneath him as he sat at attention, only the very tip of his tail swishing back and forth methodical and silent in the open air. The male human was out with his beast, where he stood the radiance of his dragon was obstructed, making his body like a shadow against her hide. Verensith hissed his frustration at the object of his desire being shrouded so, but abided by it because it could foretell what he already knew inside—tonight would be the night. Their tastes had changed, spice and musk mixed in the night air as it carried down to him: Into his lungs he pulled great swaths of their scent and let it mingle over his tongue and through his nares. They were ready for him, even if they did not yet know it. Ripe and sensual; they would realize their needs soon.

”Oh. Are they done now?” Ro'ark wandered out onto the ledge, wineglass in hand, drawn by the growing lust within his dragon’s mind. ”Are you sure? Because last time you weren’t very sure, and I had to fall upon some poor Greenrider.” Without even looking at his agitated Brown, he stole a sip from his glass before forging on, voice maintaining his innocence. ”Do you suppose I could have one? There are two afterall.” It was an old game they played, but Verensith was in no mood on this day. Mouth agape and spilling hot air, he swung his head round to his rider, one large yellowed eye focusing on the man he had chosen so many turns ago. The yellow roiled and spun into a pinpoint of crimson which grew, forming a circle in the depths of one eye facet before it shattered into fragments and the red whirled away into purples that chased away the other colours leaving behind only hunger.

Find your own way, cub, came the deep, rumbling, mindvoice. Where it touched Ro'ark’s mind, his own human needs were ignited as if by a fire, but the Brown was already leaving. Large powerful body uncoiling from its tightly held posture, Verensith dug his claws deeply into the stone as he pulled every bone and muscle taut in his body. Twisting and pulling, his shoulders dropped down as his hindquarters pulled his tail skyward: As his neck stretched forward, as if he might reach the twins simply through this method, his wings beat a steady drum against the air. Every muscle in his body vibrated with the pleasure of this exercise, and when he released his muscles, they snapped back like strings, leaving behind a warmth that infused his body and burned away the lethargy of night.

I hunt, were the final words he had for his man, and having said them he dropped from the ledge into the cool grasp of the darkened sky. Ro'ark looked after him for one long moment before his eyes found the shimmering twins on their ledge to the North. After a moment’s contemplation the Brownrider shrugged, then retreated inside to do away with the glass. Neither Tan had risen, so there was time for him to find his way to their weyr using only the inner corridors. Quickly he grasped himself through his sleeping trousers, assuring himself that he had everything he needed, and then he was off and loping through the stone hallways, limbering himself much like his dragon had—save without the suggestive stretching.

In the air above the Bowl, Verensith circled, stretching his wing pinions in the cool air. Their scent from above was somewhat bearable, the night currents held less power than those warmed by day, so for a few moments he was allowed the peace of mind to test the cup of wind on his membranes and anticipate their flight tonight. The predator did not catch his prey by simply hoping it would be so—every advantage would be his: Every variable calculated to give him the most benefit. She was not, however, in the sky. Neither of them were. And it would do no good to him to burn through resources before they were needed. Folding his wings to his body he landed on the North wall with a thud, leaping from the sky much like a great southern feline, as he stalked along the stony edge his muscled back rippled in the starlight.

The mighty heartbeat in his chest was matched, beat-for-beat by his human’s footfalls inside the corridors, and as he paced back and forth along the wall he felt Ro'ark near their quarry. The melting snows had left the wall mucky in the dark of night, when the great light left and no longer warmed the stone, water flowed freely from long held reservoirs of cold ice. He felt the water mix with loam beneath his paws and scrabbled in it, spreading open his digits to test the ground before he threw himself down –writhing both in the grit, and in the scent of his prey that had spent so long permeating this, the area above their lair. First one flank, then the other, went down onto the muck, forepaws stretching out to dig talons into stone and drag his thrumming sides through the mire, and when he rose he loosed the excess from his body with a ripple of his hide.

Painted, streaks of grey and blue in the night light, he fell once more into his pacing. Waiting for his sky ladies to Rise. Back and forth along the edge, mouth agape in a toothy grin as he pulled large swathes of their taste over his tongue and into his lungs. All that gave him away were his eyes; the purples of his need fighting with the oranges of his predatory nature. He would have waited for them forever, but this time they would not ask that of him. He watched as the darker—Unath—fell to the pens below to have her fill of the beasts as he would have his fill of her. She was a predator herself, fang deep in pulsing veins that carried life from prey to her, and oh how he wanted her with every fiber of his being. Below him, on the wall, the other lady slept on—glowing, but oblivious. She would have to join them in the sky, it seemed.

While Unath fed, he paced, exhaling air from his lungs in a continuous coughing growl that whistled through his sharp teeth into the night. Back and forth he slunk, and when she shot skyward his muscles tensed—ready: But she had not yet called him to the chase. One last lingering look was given to the Tan still on the ledge, but when her sister’s cry rang out, that was all the coaxing he needed. When he dropped from the weyrwall he was not alone, he fell between suitors, and dragons coming to deposit their Riders in the weyr below, but they were of no concern to him. As his wings opened against the whistling air his warmed muscles rallied to his need and pushed downward, stymying his plummet to Pern and lifting him upward after his departing prey. To the smaller males he would leave the antics, his large powerful body would not dance in the sky so much as stalk through it, but where he could conserve his energy he would.

Up he went, wind hissing cross the breadth of his wing membranes as it stretched between his spars, cutting through the air with leathery slaps as his momentum tossed him up above the Weyr rim. Only when he felt his speed arresting did he unfurl his great wings to cup the sky and lift him ever higher one downstroke at a time. He gave no call in answer to hers, and he paid his suitors little mind, cunning and silent he followed; violet and orange fiery facets only for the glowing beacon above. Far below, inside stone warmth, Ro'ark came to a halt inside the twinpair's shared quarters. Breath pushing gutturally through his throat to be expelled in a hiss between his teeth—whether that was the jog up, or his dragon’s lust he could not tell. For a moment he was torn between the two, but only one was in the sky to be chased, so his eyes landed on the male, a smile pulling back his lip to expose a hint of gleaming canine in the glowlight.

Ever upward into the abyssal depths of night he followed the beacon of his fascination. In the celestial light his hide appeared lighter than hers, but she could rival the moons with the glow of her wingsails as they flashed reflections back at him on her every stroke. The air chilled along his flanks as she drew them well above the ravaged lands below, and Verensith adjusted his sails imperceptibly to better cup the thinning sky. There was no race for him, and when the more ardent passed him by he felt no remorse, it would be his stamina against their show and there could be only one winner here. As his lady-prey angled out to find her preferred height, he strove to gain altitude on her—it was his preference to watch from above. To always be ready should the chance arise to fall upon her and foil her wings with his before coiling their bodies into one. The opportunity had not yet arisen, and he would waste no effort to overtake her when the Chase was just begun. The thin air lapped against his painted flanks, icy against his warmed flesh, and far below Ro'ark felt his spine ripple from the chill of it.

The weyr was filling quickly with suitors, and he hungered for them much like his dragon on wing, but also like his dragon he was nothing if not patient. It was apparent they would all be having their fill of each other, regardless of the outcome, and he relished the thought of tasting even one of them—if not all. Tongue playing a gentle dance across his teeth he divested himself of tunic and boots—folding one and pushing the other safely out of the way. Fastidious as a feline, even now, he returned his attentions to the suitors—and their marks—once his task was completed. As he stepped forward the glowlight fell upon his torso, pooling in the circular mar that sat upon the middle of his chest. Thick silver scar tissue, smooth from age, tinged a lurid hue in the light, but he took no notice—brown eyes drawn to the chaotic movements of the other Tanrider as she joined them from her slumber. Far from the Weyrwall, deep within the depths of night, it was the opening for which Verensith had patiently waited.

Ahead of him, the graceful form of his prey broke her stride, and for scant heartbeats she seemed suspended in between Pern and space—unmoving. Hot breath within his chest coughed out a pleased growl as he pushed himself above her, his broad wings cutting through the air not unlike the hull of a trawler cutting through the sea. It was his advantage to lose—but he anticipated little trouble. It took his lady mere moments to recover, and when she did he anticipated her awkward surge upward by avoiding her entirely—the less she noticed him, the better in the end. When she barked her dislike of them, he wasted no breath on reply, his violet-orange eyes lost in the study of her rippling muscles as he continued to stalk her. When her illuminated sails flattened and leveled out her speckled body, he relaxed into a holding pattern of his own; sweeping along behind and above her.

It was then, suspended in the night, that she turned on her suitors to toy with them, and his heart fanned with a heady lust—innocent as she turned the tables upon those hunting her—making them her prey. Her movements between them were nearly frantic at once, only to slow to the minutest of glides the next; but his broad wings were splayed in a slope that allowed him to follow her dance without requiring much movement of his own. As it should be. Every male seemed spurned by her, save those she took no notice of, and he was among them, but no worry tainted the desire he felt. Far below them, nearer to the rocky ground, he saw the other Tan at long last gain her wings, rising up to join them. It was not until Unath’s glowing hide broke away into a fall, to join her sister perhaps, that Verensith considered dropping into the scrum, but he held himself and was rewarded by her return to him as she arrowed up into the sparkling sky. She seemed carefree—or even careless—and he saw his chance as she raced for the wet-tinged lace of cloud that separated them. Oh how close she came: He felt the radiating heat of her as he banked a wingtip through the cloud, ready to fold his pinions and take her—but she was gone.

Frustrated at the near miss, it was only then that he reached out to her—a silent presence gauging the motivation of his prey. The human mind he found within was an unexpected surprise that he shied from, turning a stiff circle in the sky as clouded breath escaped his muzzle in a quiet hiss. It was no lackadaisical quarry he chased on this night, and that would complicate his methodology. Again he extended himself to her, seeking the faint whispers of her consciousness even as she fell from the sky and out of his immediate grasp. It was not enough to deny him the need he had for the Tan, unsettling as it was. As she swept to meet her twin, Verensith angled himself down to where she had been, cutting through the wind after her as she pointed her train of suitors back to the jagged stone of the Weyr.

For now he was unwilling to lose the advantage of height to simply partake in her erratic flight, not when her sister had finally joined; so he held; craning his neck after them both so that his body could follow easily. His dance would come soon—there would be no other way to edge out the other suitors if he could not simply fall upon his prey as he wished, but that time was not yet here. Drinking in his fill of their glowing bodies with eyes alone, he shifted in the sky, keeping his muscles limbered with periodic changes in direction and gentle wingbeats. Come back to me, sky lady, bring your sister, and your dance, to the edge and tear the world down.

Beiruth dutifully followed Mith, though he was slowly beginning to accept that the twins were indeed the same. It didn't matter which one was which at this point, partial as he was to Mith's coloring. He kept his words to himself. Beiruth was never really one to use words or talk during a flight, he prefered to sing wordless songs, adding his voice to hers to perhaps see if the female in question liked their mixture. He'd never felt such a desire to win before, and it coursed through him with each push of his wings against the air. The lust in the air was affecting him more than it usually did.

For once, A'li agreed. He sunk to his knees in Q'sis' weyr, no longer finding the strength to keep himself standing. He'd shoved so much of his mind into Beiruth that every movement the dragon made exhausted the rider. From his human eyes he could see the riders on the bed, and part of him longed to join them. But he had to hold on and keep himself out. A'li cursed his dragon with all his might, tiring himself more in his attempts to slow Beiruth down.

With the Purple was completely in charge, and A'li's protests were crushed under his desire for the twins. He kept himself close but not too close, circling himself around in order to keep his eyes on both of them. He glided, keeping his forelegs close to his body in order to gain more air and speed. He would not be left behind, no matter which way the twins ended up going. He kept his eyes trained on Mith more often than Unath, but the darker Tan was proving herself to be just as lovely a specimen as Mith.

It mattered not. He flew higher, making his way around in slow circles and spirals. He kept himself with in their sight at all times, though if they wanted a game of tag... it was meant to be a keepaway. Mith had swiped her tail along the underside of the other Purple. A surge of jealousy swept through him, and Beiruth swirled back down to the group, keeping himself closer and closer to Mith, although eventually he sped up past her to catch up to Unath and the other suitors.

He rose higher as Unath stayed lower, keeping himself distanced from the other males in the sky, but keeping himself as close to Unath and Mith as he could. It was somewhat difficult to balance, his affections torn between two twins on opposite ends of the sky. As the flight grew longer it made him selfishly want them both to be his, but his rational side knew that he could have only one. Beiruth returned Unath's cry as she sped back towards them.