Kila
Sr. Weyrleader 
kilact[M:217]
Let's move to a cloud so we're never under the weather
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Post by Kila on Sept 21, 2009 11:57:21 GMT -5
Varya and Alizadehth had taken up refuge in one of the infinite nooks provided by the wild, Western continent. There were no end to the majestic outcroppings of rock, mysterious caves, and alluringly lush canopies. It made sense, then, that the pair moved from place to place often. The woman renegade was probably the most unknown expert on the Western Continent on Pern. But she would not be able to remain unknown for long.
Alizadehth lay regally stretched over a warm out-jutting of stone (a geographic feature of which she was very fond of exploiting). Her dangerous but beautiful feline qualities were easily visible in this position. Her build was distinctly feminine, a quality shared by all Oranges, but it was more lethal than inhibiting. Her hide glowed with a silent, furious intensity almost too bright to look at in the midday sun. Varya was intentionally training with her back to HerOwn, in fact, to spare her eyes the strain.
The sun reached it's zenith and Alizadehth, at her most blinding, rose gracefully to her feet. She had not been sleeping, as it had appeared, but waiting. Raising her head to the sky, the Queen let loose a ground-shaking roar that was in no way feminine or dainty. The challenge was broadly addressed; not only for any pitiful man who dared to try to catch her, but straight at the sun. Launching herself into the air (grinding her claws down into the rock at throwing herself straight up), she glared sententiously at Rubkat. What a stupid spot in the sky that feebly tried to outshine her! It was SHE that would hold the focus in the sky, light, and guide Pern today. Silly star- it would have to accept second best.
Varya was not surprised when she turned, sensing movement and feeling a wave of feelings that were not altogether her own, to find Alizadehth already in the sky. Uttering an incomplete curse under her breath she took off without hesitation after Hers.
Alizadehth did not waste her time with the scraggly creatures of the wild; she knew exactly where to find her prey. Closing the gap between her present position and her destination like lightning, she honed in mercilessly on Western Hold. What fine beasts the ambitious young Lord Holder had! They would be a wonderful sacrifice.
Before the animals could even look up in alarm, Alizadehth was among them. The majority of the herd galloped away braying in a haze of panic as the large dragon crashed among them like a comet and thrashed around. In spurts of blood and flashes of fang and claw, the most unfortunate of the herdbeasts was torn to pieces- his dead and injured brothers laying around him in queue. The people of Western Hold too screamed and fled in confusion, terrified by this newest rogue dragon in their midst and by her seemingly excessive violence.
"ALIZADEHTH! BLOOD ALONE!" Varya bellowed in a voice that seemed far too large to come from her slight body as she burst free of the brush. This only added to the chaos and confusion in the Hold.
Alizadehth rose her head and let out a vicious defiant roar. Blood spattered her muzzle and face and dripped in rivulets down her neck and breast. Her claws only tore deeper into the ruined flesh of her prey as she grappled against the willpower of her rider. She wild- she belonged to no Weyr! No one could tame her or tell her what to do! Nor I; Varya retaliated without hearing the words. And it was true, for they were one in the same. Their goals lay outside of the average and organized good. Pernese society would never chain them down!
A part of her now allied rather than quelled, Alizadehth sank back into her prize, draining it of all its blood before throwing the carcass aside and setting upon another. She set upon a third, but, already exhilarated by the rush of her blood and that of her other kills, she merely slashed it with her claws (for it was HER kill) and alighted at last, screaming her call on high as she spiraled upward towards her lesser and detestable rival, Rubkat. What males dared to follow her would fly high and for high stakes. Let them try to catch her!
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Post by kia on Sept 21, 2009 21:24:57 GMT -5
It was the kind of day where there was nothing to do. Lio would have been content to sleep in, as usual, being lazy. But Miki had wanted to do something. He had an itch to fly. To fly towards the sky, to the clouds, to Rukbat. Lio had laid in bed, bare chested with only pants on, staring at his big Brown as Miki stared out from the weyr ledge. The Brown stared, saying that today was a good day for flying, while nothing else was going on. Lio had told him to go bother Annith or Gyth, to talk to him and help him pass some time till Lio wanted to get out of bed. But Miki refused to leave the ledge, saying that he did not want to bother the two females at the moment. Lio finally gave in with a sigh, throwing the blanket off and walking around without a shirt still. He stretched a few times, walked down to the baths to was his face and fix his hair so it did not look like he just got out of bed, and returned to his weyr to finally put his shirt, riding jacket, and riding boots on him. He yawned again, grabbing his riding straps and putting them on Miki. The Brown rumbled in appreciation, his eyes whirling in shades of greens. "Don`t say that I never did anything for you," Lio told the Brown.
Like I have never done anything for you, you lazy human, Mikidith replied, jokingly with his Mine. The couple was never without their own personal jokes. They rarely made these love-hate jokes in front of others, not wanting anyone to think that both Rider and dragon actually hated one another. Sure, Lio would call Miki a wherry-brain dragon and Mikidith would reply that he was a lazy human in public, but they would grin or rumbled in happiness. They loved each other very much. This was why Lio finally got up to go riding with his dragon. He hated to see Miki just sitting there, so dejected.
Lio got on the Brown, and the pair were off in the skies finally. They had not been in the skies for long when there was a bugle from somewhere far off. Mikidith nearly came to a halt when he heard the bugle. His eyes suddenly had small ring of red mixing with the blue of the dragon`s eyes. Lio knew what this meant. And, as soon as he realized it, Mikidith`s eyes had gone to almost a deep purple. Mine, I want to chase, he said, the Brown racing off somewhere to drop Lio off. Lio hung on tightly. Miki, you don`t even know the female, do you? Mikdith bugled back in response to Alizadehth`s call. I don`t care. I want to chase. Please, give me this chance. I won`t let you down. I will make you a proud Rider, Mikidith replied.
Shortly after saying this, he found a ledge to drop his Mine off. But there was someone already close by. But Mikidith did not care at the moment. In fact, he actually hoped it was the beautiful dragoness` Mine. After letting Lio off and Lio taking the riding straps off, Mikdith was back in the hair again, chasing after the pretty Orange. He recognized her to be the Renegade Queen that everyone feared, but right now she was a Queen of Pern in his eyes. And he did not care about what the past said or anything, this was her Flight and he was chasing her. Maybe he would win. Maybe he won`t with all the other renegade males watching her and having been closer to her, but he wanted to make his Mine proud after telling him that he wanted to chase her. Well, time to put that to the side now. His attention was fully on Alizadehth, the Queen of Pern. He bugled to her, crooned to her, lavishing praises on her. Oh Queen of Pern, so radiant that Rukbat does not even match your shine. You alone light up the sky during the day and at night, he crooned to her. |
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Admin
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Post by Admin on Sept 21, 2009 22:50:10 GMT -5
We spotted the ocean at the head of the trail,
Where are we going, so far away,
And somebody told me that this is the place,
Where everything's better, everything's safe.
Abeneth had kept an eye on Alizadehth, from a far, in the days where she grew steadily brighter in color. Even when his rider and hers had gotten into a spat and his had said that they had to stay away, he had made sure he knew where she was. He didn't need her to know that he was watching over her, in fact, it was probably better that she didn't know for him much of the time, but he was. While his had planned and paced, he had waited. He was a patient brown. He knew when it was required of him to make a move, and that was when he acted, never before. In the wake of the flurry that would come, he was calm. His was not as concerned about the outcome of the flight as the brown was, so all was calm for him. He found peace amongst the trees of the wild continent, and he paused and rested, with hushed anticipation hidden away in him.
On the faithful day, he lay curled up around a large rock, idling away the candlemarks while he waited for some order or direction with sleep and nature watching. He heard her roar. He felt her roar. It ripped through his mind, soul, heart, and body with a force that made every fiber of his being quiver. It struck him with a force that he loved, the force that was Alizadehth. To him, it was not just a challenge that she called out. It was something that he had to answer, or some part of him would die with longing. He rose, eyes fixed on the orange form that lifted over the trees in the sky who was out for blood. Even with such a space between them, she was almost blinding, glittering and sparkling in the light of Rukbat. However, his gaze was steady, a dragon's eyes well-designed to stand such things, and he didn't dare to miss a moment of her glory.
With a spring, he slowly flapped his wings and rose after her. He kept a safe distance, and settled on a crag near the cliffs that the hold perched atop. He silently watched her as she tore through herdbeasts, blooding them at the yells of her rider that were lost to him in the distant screams and shouts of all the other people. None of those people were important. Only she was important. His muscles were tense and his claws dug into the rough stone beneath his feet. His calm was gone. So focused and intent, he was greatly changed from how most knew him, since the follower was left in the wake of someone doing something for himself. He was strong. As she spiraled upward, he surged after her. Muscles rippled under his scarred hide, testing the bounds of the marred flesh as he pushed himself. It was going to hurt. He didn't care.
Another brown was there, moving to pursue her as he did. Any noise would be a waste of breath; he could remember the advice of his rider in the back of his mine, though the man did not offer him anything at that exact moment. So, he remained quiet, not trying to outdo the comments of Mikidith or to answer her shriek. He would win. He would win like he had won in the past, before this brown or Alizadehth had even been hatched. He surged forward, pressing ahead of the other suitor. It was going to tax his strength, but he didn't think of that. It didn't matter. No matter what it would take out of himself, he would remain in the sky. The wind whistled across his face and ebbed around his wings. He could feel it sing in such a quiet way, just like him, in awe of the event it witnessed. She was so magnificent. Strength coursed through him, all for her.
Down on the ground, D'ror made no hurry to get to Varya. He was drawn to her like a wasp to a rose, but he moved with delicate care and without urgency. She could all be blamed for that. She had broken his foot, which he had to set and split himself with strips of cloth and wood and no numbweed. It was going to heal fine, the bones being in place properly, but it hurt like nothing else. She was angry at him too, so he didn't think showing up before she was entirely consumed with flight lust would be a very good idea on his part. He smiled a little to himself as he made his way through the woods to where the woman lay. She still loved him. He knew it. He was sure. He thought she was foolish for it, but it was so sharding funny. He threw his head back and laughed as he walked, between grimaces at pains in his foot, filling the still air with his crazy mirth.
Walk on the ocean,
Step on the stones,
Flesh becomes water,
Wood becomes bone.
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Post by jack on Sept 23, 2009 10:21:18 GMT -5
Sjueth, unlike Abeneth, had not been watching the Orange. Fact of the matter was, he had only the vaguest idea of Alizadeth’s existence, the absent mentioning flashing through His’s mind and the verbal mentioning of a Flight his only indication that there was an Orange anywhere nearby. But when she roared, flashing through the sky like a land-based star, he was made one-hundred percent aware of her reality.
What a stunning Orange.
T’el blinked, glancing up at the regal Iron he was leaning against, his eyes flashing with amusement as the beast’s lone eye whirled with the urge to pursue. The dragon’s muscles were stiff, his seamless self-control all that kept him pinned to the ground, the weight of his Mine’s head against his belly an anchor. “You want it?”
She is a glorious creature…
The blackette snickered, eyes narrow and grin wide as he set down the ring-puzzle he’d been playing with, standing up and stretching. “How far?”
Nearby.
“Faantastic.” A soft cackle slid past his lips and he clambered up to the Iron’s neck, settling himself easily. “Drop me off closer and catch yourself a jewel, Sju.”
The dragon needed no other urging. Without warning he bolted into the air, wings snapping open and pumping powerfully as he surged into the sky, betweening almost immediately. He arrived at Dalibor with a trumpeting roar, his noble voice filling the air with the challenging boom of an armored knight, his hide gleaming with health and his eye whirling with lust. A short stop and T’el stumbled to the ground, dumped a bit faster than he expected—and left giggling—as Sjueth shot after Alizadeth.
It hadn’t been so long ago that he had flown, his wings sending him sailing after that Yellow gem months before, but it seemed like it had been forever since he’d lifted himself into the air in such a determined manner. Perhaps since before he’d become a renegade alongside his Mine…perhaps since before his Mine had fallen into such a warped sense of existence….perhaps since before that. No matter how long it had been, the feeling that swelled in his chest and lifted his wingtips was a familiar one…a desperate one.
Sjueth was in the prime of life. He was young, he was strong, but he was not so foolish to think he was the greatest dragon to fly the skies. He was handsome and well-built, with a regal head and a manner of movement and speaking that foretold not only of his great power, but of his great restraint and knightly temperance. He could be calm…a statue of silver to hover behind the center of attention—as glorious as a Queen’s crown. But when the time came he could be vicious…hungry and strong and very much able to give a killing blow or a gaping wound should the situation require it. He had seen strife and horror, and had survived…no. He had not just survived. He had grown, he had become stronger…he had become better and more knowledgeable and more determined. He would certainly not allow a warped past to go to waste—he would show this glorious dragon that there was nothing that could fly like Sjueth.
Star of Pern—allow me to fly for you. The Iron crooned as he came up just behind the other suitors, taking one look at the Browns and giving a powerful pump of his wings, sailing easily past them. Nothing can match your beauty; permit me to be your shadow! His request for soaring after her complete, he lapsed into mental silence, his voice humming unforgettably in the background even as he concentrated on following. The Browns at her side were unwelcome—they would do naught but dull her glory—but he would not strike down that which she permitted. Nobility and honor were difficult traits to find…but they would be the ones to show this Rukbat of a dragon that no one could stand as strongly for her.
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Kila
Sr. Weyrleader
kilact[M:217]
Let's move to a cloud so we're never under the weather
Posts: 1,574
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Post by Kila on Sept 26, 2009 19:52:10 GMT -5
Alizadehth looked back with disdain as, one after another, the huge forms of her suitors rose from the ground and began to pursue her. First was a Brown- Abeneth? No, some other Brown, probably from Dalibor. She growled and sped higher. Ah, and there was Abeneth next, in her shadow as always. He had best not crowd her and try her patience today! Third was something far more intriguing and pointedly not Brown; an iron- the one whose rider had no doubt made a scene with Abeneth's and upset Hers so. Pretentious king- it was she who ruled over this continent! And then, suitor number four...
Yusriyath burst into the sky with a flamboyant trumpet, his electric purple hide unmistakable in the sky. It was no surprise to anyone that he was late. Both he and Y'nis had dithered about and wasted time in half excitement half panic when they had realized Alizadehth was in the air. Y'nis was running towards where Varya was now, covering ground quickly with his long, gangly legs and strides. Queen of the skies! How lovely you are! I am not far behind! he crooned to her.
Alizadehth scoffed when they spoke and cried piteously out to her. Respect and admiration were things that she demanded- she knew that she was beautiful, radiant, perfect. They should grovel, they should strain themselves to be in her presence. She was uncatchable, she was free and would NOT be brought down!
Pumping her wings and delighting in the dizzying heights she reached, she suddenly angled off and shot off into the sparse clouds, never letting up and never slowing down. The Iron easily surpassed the Browns, though agile Yusriyath was also not far behind. As soon as they dared to try to match her pace she dived and swerved, darting through the sky in untraceable and frustrating patterns.
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Admin
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Post by Admin on Sept 28, 2009 21:10:21 GMT -5
Everyday's another chance,
To bury my regret,
Everyday's another chance,
To make it,
But I can't, but I can't.
Abeneth was steady. He strove forward, but he kept striving forward. He did not let Sjueth, or Yusriyath, outshine him as they joined in. His body strained. It hurt. His hide and muscles, though healed, screamed at him that he should not fly like this again, not since he was torn from the sky. He was not designed to be fast. He refused to pay heed. He refused to give in. In pursuit of her, he dragged himself upward, higher and higher than he would ever normally go. He had not been at such a height in quite a while. Not even in pursuit of his last attempt. It had been many turns since he had last pushed his body so high. He had not been scarred then. It did not matter. Ground fell away. His wings beat. He flew for her.
Water condensed on him as he angled after her into the clouds. It was cold up there, in the high spring air. He strained for her, pushing to make sure he kept up with all of them. He still did not speak as the others did, a silent figure that stormed and strove through the air. Pain was forgotten in the wake of numbness. He felt only for her, a burning desire and need. It all didn't matter. His one and only truth was his wish to be hers. If he fell, he would be back to waiting for orders. There, in the sky, he waited only for her to choose him, to feel her embrace, to succeed and win, by himself.
When he, when all of them, thought to try to draw closer to her, he watched as she fell away, leaving them in her trail as she wove off into the sky. He slowed, diving after her but without any effort put into the action. He kept his swirling eyes fixed on her, searching for some rhyme or reason. She was so agile. She was so strong. She was so fierce, in the most lady-like way. She was perfect. And he had to beat perfection. He had to find some fault, find the answer to one moment of her perfection. It felt so wrong to him, but years of living as a renegade, years of living with his rider, meant he could accept it. Morals, such contrived ideas, and insightful opinions could be set aside in order to win. For her, he would. All for her.
Even unforeseeable patterns have a flow. They have a dance. One instance. He saw it. He saw it with perfect clarity. Her flawless body was going to turn. He could see it, in the way her muscles moved and her wings twitched. With a guttural mix of a croon and roar, he surged forward as she made another swerve. He had been lagging behind but he forced himself to make it all up, and a little more, right there, taking a single opportunity. Agony screamed through his wings. He refused it. He did not take orders from it. He would catch her! He would catch her if she fell, and he would hold her up!
And all the pictures on the shelf are,
Dusted off by someone else,
To keep me company,
I haven't told her,
That your thought still lingers on.
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Kila
Sr. Weyrleader
kilact[M:217]
Let's move to a cloud so we're never under the weather
Posts: 1,574
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Post by Kila on Sept 30, 2009 11:49:40 GMT -5
What was wrong with these suitors of hers? They were pathetic excuses for Kings indeed! She pushed herself relentlessly, oblivious to the strain and fatigue that her speed and fury would inevitably cause her. She did not waste her time turning back to look, but she could feel that none of them were chasing her hard. No one was in her shadow, no one on her tail. None of them were straining themselves and sweating with desperation. None employed showy or clever tactics to try to gain her attention in vain. The contempt which she held for them was inexpressible. As if any of them deserved her. Why, they didn't even deserve to be in her sky!
Alizadehth let loose a furious roar as she looped gracefully through the sky; diving and zig-zagging in a way none of the lowly Kings could match. The gouts of blood on her muzzle and claws from when she had ripped apart her kills had been smeared back by the force of the air and had dried in streaks. Her lithe, glowing orange body was now streaked with crimson and only enhanced the dangerous tone in her voice. Stupid creatures her followers were who thought that their words alone would ensnare her.
But it seemed that there was at least one who was watching, following her closely, even if not at a fast pace. Abeneth was struggling, but he had a huge advantage over the others: he knew her. Abeneth adored her, even when she was cruel and indifferent to him. He had flown her before, he had studied her endlessly in his admiration- he knew how she worked.
As she swerved downward she heard Abeneth utter a roar behind her and she was immediately put on guard. She snapped shut her wings to dive out of his reach, but he surged forward fast enough during her turn to capture her. The Queen snarled and tried to unfurl her wings, thrashing about, unwilling to be caught, but his wings were fastened tightly around her own. No! She was untameable, she belonged to no one!Summoning her strength she prepared to break free, but her lust began to take hold and a glint of cunning flashed in her eyes. If she chose her winner, she was not defeated. Abeneth had tried harder than all of the others, and he was a member of her own renegade kinds. A loyal subject, no less. Now that she was falling, too, her wings were so heavy. She had overexerted herself...
Crooning to Abeneth, she ceased her struggle and entwined her neck with his. He was hers. She chose him. They plummeted downward suicidally through the sky- for they had a long way to fall- but she knew that he would hold her aloft.
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Admin
Administrator
brect[M:-2154]
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Post by Admin on Sept 30, 2009 18:37:40 GMT -5
All of my friends fall from the sky now,
Many more than I ever thought I had,
Everyone is sharpening up their angles,
When all I really want is.
Abeneth knew he had won as soon as he wrapped his wings firmly around hers, entangling them altogether at her every movement. He would not allow himself to be shaken off. He gripped tighter to her, his claws reaching out to try to lock with hers, as he felt her tense under his touch. But then the danger of her trying to maul him or force him away tangibly lessened. She was his. She was his! She was would never lose. She would never be anything but free and independent and beautiful. But, for that moment, like a few in the past, she was his! She was his Queen, all his, for one moment!
As she crooned to him, he crooned back to her, joining his voice with hers and then holding it out past hers. He pressed his neck to hers as they wove them together, and he felt her give up the last of her strength. A renewal of energy flooded him as they fell from the sky, hundreds of feet upon hundreds of feet. His body felt warm despite the rush of biting air that rushed past them. The ground seemed to never come closer. He didn't want it to do anything of the sort. He wanted his one moment of being King, of being a winner all by himself except for her lovely presence so close to him, to last forever and ever.
But it did end. The rocky ground that had been far below where he had dared to catch her jumped into sharp focus. He pulled his wings free of hers, but his hold on her remained tight. His body strained. Even driven by the instinctual need to save them both, he felt like he was breaking at the seams of his body. The only thing that kept him together was her. He dragged them up, slowing their descent and saving them from a painful death. He saved her. He did it all for her! It was thrilling. Even as exhaustion began to overtake his body as he sunk downward to rest, it was thrilling.
D'ror, broken foot and all, reached Varya with perfect timing. As Abeneth succeeded in catching Alizadehth in the sky, he was slowly closing the last bit between him and the orangerider. All the pain of his foot was forgotten as the strong, unquenchable lust of dragon's overtook him. He only gave Y'nis and L'can more than firm pushes out of his way, and whacked T'el sharply in the back of his head. When he came to Varya, he was sweet and gentle. He wrapped her up in his arms, and he kissed her, softly but insistently. "I am sorry;" he told her quietly, before he forgot all words and pulled her away from the others. She was his. The words of his dragon echoed in his mind, and they made him happy, gave him a bit of bliss.
A goddamn army of them in my brain,
"Sing," Theresa says, "Sing happy things,"
"Sing," Theresa says if I do everything,
One day a man will spring worth loving.
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