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Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on May 25, 2009 23:34:54 GMT -5
It had been quiet for Whisk and Whinae ever since they had arrived at Dalibor. Sure, there had been a dragon hatching, but that didn't affect them too much. They'd met the other wherhandlers, managed not to maim anybody, and both had plumped up slightly from the easier lifestyle and freer food available at Dalibor.
But, of course, things can never stay quiet for long, can they?
Whinae was terrified. They were alone in the quarters. The sun was almost gone for the day, the last of the burnished red rays fading slowly but surely from the sky. However, the less light there was, the shinier Whisk's green hide seemed to grow, paradoxically enough...
The Green wher was sleeping, her yellowish-green hide simply radiating with light. The faint beams from the few glows that Whinae had set up (though she never could put up very many, as the domesticated whers like Whisk were far too photophobic to handle what most people would consider a 'normal' amount of light) danced on Whisk, her hide seeming to sparkle with their felicity. The wher herself seemed content for once, or maybe just actually sleeping. She drew breath at a constant, relaxed rate, and she didn't move except to stretch herself out further on the stone floor and gain a more comfortable position.
Whinae, in contrast, was huddled up into fetal position on her cot. Her eyes were wide and petrified as she stared at Whisk, willing her not to wake up. She wasn't an idiot, after all, and she knew full well what the glowing hide and the unnaturally deep sleep meant. She wasn't ready for this! She hardly knew the other wherhandlers here-- she didn't want their new friendship, so delicate and fragile in its young age, ruined by wherlust! Yes, the effects from a wher weren't as strong or overwhelming as they were for a dragon, but Whinae was young, and she'd never been very strong: she didn't know how to resist!
She drew her thin blanket tighter around her, as if the cloth could protect her from the inevitable.
Then, Whisk moved, flicking one eye open lazily. Whinae sucked in a fast breath, her heart instantly racing. The wher's iris was a wildly whirring, unmistakeably purple color. Whisk's other eye opened, and the wher stretched lazily, letting each one of her well-developed muscles tense and relax, showing off. Her tail lashed from side to side. Suddenly, she was alert once more, scanning the room; for one thing; one specific thing...
Whisk shrieked in displeasure upon finding no males in the room. Whinae retreated further into the safe recesses of the blanket, as if she was frightened by her own bonded. In a way, she was. She was scared of what Whisk would do within the next candlemark! She was scared of repeating her past, awful experience with these things! She was scared of not finding the proper mate in time!
Oh, no, wait... that last one was Whisk! Oh... Whinae groaned as her mind slowly surrendered to the more powerful influence of Whisk's. Whinae froze as thoughts that weren't hers raced around in her head, conflicting emotions doing battle to see which were superior. Those of desire and lust were slowly winning out; gradually, Whinae slid off of the cot, out of the blanket, succumbing to not what she wanted to do but what her wher wanted her to do.
Whisk was long gone. She sprinteed out of the wherhandler quarters and outside of the Weyr. She shrieked again, a wild, piercing summons for her suitors. Where were they? Where were they?! She paced, aggravated, before raising her head and crying out for the third time.
Did they want a trophy?
Well, she was beautiful enough!
Did they want a mate?
Well, she was ready to take one!
Did they want to prove themselves!
Well, Faranth knows she was strong enough!
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Post by jack on May 25, 2009 23:56:35 GMT -5
It had been a long, long time since the wher's chest had risen and fallen without a rasp, the heavy gusts of air blowing in and out of tired lungs more of a hindrance than a help. But the heavyset Bronze continued to suck air in, ever so slowly, his patient eyes tired but determined as he padded around the ever-empty tunnels for what seemed to be an eternity.
This wher was an old one, well past his prime with miles of drooping skin and wrinkles covering a thin body--his ribs were visible, the poor thing--that still shook the ground as he rumbled along. One eye was blind and covered in gunk, the other dull and listless as his wings--such frail little things...they seemed to be little more than skin-covered bones now--hung like lumps at his side, their tips dragging along the hard stone. So long had they been held at this position that they were litterally worn to the bone on the ends, a painful sore that bled eternally...but required too much effort to avoid. The muscle that held up once-strong wings had long since worn away to nothing.
His hide, once a gleaming and powerful shade, was pale and faded, looking more like leather stretched over a spiny body than the thick scaled hide that it was. Even his tail was looking in a sorry shape, bent in an unusual angle hard enough to twist it completely around at the very end, so that his under-belly was on top on the tip. His claws--such strong, gleaming things...to rot away so easily--were little more than dull fingernails, soft and sensitive and so very difficult to dig in anymore. The pads of his paws were bloated and swelled, protesting against the immense weight forced away from the claws but without any escape.
He was a sorry bag of bones, a remnant of a time past...continuously searching--hold to hold--for that which left him. He had a bonded..once...but he could hardly remember the man anymore. Such a strong young man...where did he go? Why did he leave his Meiusk behind? Meiusk didn't know...he never knew. All he knew...was that he was so very tired. Why didn't His ever show up..? Show up so that Meiusk could rest? But no...his cries to the man had yet to be answered..and his voice was tired now. He couldn't bugle anymore..couldn't grunt or chirp or give rumbles of agreement as he sat at His's side...no..just a mute...old...worthle...
A shriek reverberated powerfully against the halls, echoing and calling. The lost old wher lifted up his boney skull, lone eye whirling with a rare shade of light. A call he'd though permanently ripped from his throat rumbled out of his chest...soft at first, but like a newborn taking its first steps, grew stronger and louder, until it rung in his ears as it had years before. The wher found a strength he'd thought to be lost, wind thrust from his lungs in powerful bursts as he gathered himself up, moving into a careful trot that grew steadily into a hesitant canter, and then a run.
Experience told him how to take his corners without crashing, instinct told his dead-wings to lift themselves and to put themselves in their place, the bleeding tips pressed against his sides as he shook his head, loose skin shifting in rivers as he let loose another cry, announcing his presence clearer. Apology and sorrow echoed in that call, a mournful cry that seemed altogether too sad for the occasion, and yet so full of wisdom and the careful whisper of a creature who'd seen and experienced all.
He came into the room with heavy breaths, asserting his way to the doorway, but not taking a step further. He knew his age, he knew his appearance. Where a powerful wher--capable and known to outrun any wher! To take any and all he wanted and make His so very strong!--had stood, he knew now nothing but a husk, forced move by a barely lingering spirit, remained. But he would stand for her, stand and run...for no one wants to be alone, and any chance at adoration for any second...he would take. Just...jsut to remember by..that's all..
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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 May 30, 2009 14:25:57 GMT -5
As the wild cry of the running Dalibor Wher pierced through the falling night, another head raised in interest and another purple pair of whirring eyes looked to the sound. Though it was far off, the cry echoed through the dusky Western Continent, rousing the inhabitants who were yet unused to the presence of the creatures in the new Weyr. The Wher that had been alerted by it, however, was not a native to the uncharted, wild land.
The big Brown that searched the sky for that sound was not alone. Curled up alongside him was a sleeping woman who was yet oblivious to what was about to happen. She was His, and they had been resting a in a dark, low cave, waiting for night to come. They had been traveling by the blessing of darkness, covering as much ground as possible, and sleeping by day. They were on their way to Dalibor.... and had been for quite some time. Along the way they might have gotten lost in the uncharted territory. But neither were worried, especially not the calm, stolid Brown, and had faith that they would find their way eventually.
This cry in the coming dark might've be their map. But that was the last thing on the Brown's mind. He stood carefully, jostling His as little as possible and letting her roll on the ground to where he had been lying. Stepping boldly to the mouth of the cave, he raised his maw, threw back his wings, and let his own call cut the air. He was coming. He would find and chase this mysterious beauty and be her mate; her trophy; her proof.
The woman, the Handler of the Brown, awoke with a start, still slightly dazed from sleep, at the cry of her Wher. Throwing herself into a sitting position, she looked towards the cave mouth just in time to see Hers disappear in search of Whisk. "Nadysk!" she shouted. She didn't need to hear the cries of the Whers that were floating through the air to know what was afoot now; she knew the feelings that the Brown was feeling all too well. He was on a run! And she was quickly being left behind.
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Admin
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Post by Admin on Jun 12, 2009 19:56:58 GMT -5
A million faces, a million names,
A million boys but they're all the same,
Until I set my eyes on you.
He had sensed her earlier. He had caught her scent on the swirling evening winds. Distressed that he could not go and be there earlier, he had paced in their dark lair, curiously watching any of the greens in their group in a vain hope that they were her and snapping at any of the other males that got too close to him. They were too ignorant to realize that out there was another who was about to run. Most of them were younger than he, the children of some of the greens and filthy, youthful browns and bronzes who had come to them because of they're interest in the flirty, feisty group of the small females. He was one of only a few blues in the group, deep and dark in color and big and strong in build.
When darkness finally settled enough, he ran, leaving the others behind with their confusion at his sudden disappearance. His sure feet and powerful legs covered the ground in leaps as he ran for where the runner lay. When he heard her first reverberating cry, echoing more through his head then anything, he let out a hiss and lunged forward faster. He was a very sensitive wher, with a big protective streak and a hidden nasty temper, a proper blue in all those respects. He noticed things that others failed to; he could always sense what was going on. He was shear, raw emotion, and now he was like an avalanche, charging forward with every intention to destroy everything in his path. He wouldn't be stopped.
At her third call, he let loose a cry of his own, a soft, crooning sort of call. His stocky, well-built frame held an odd tendency towards being better for speed than strength and he produced oddly tender noises for some reason. The Weyr, the place where the dragons lived, their larger cousins that flew in the light lived, was up ahead and he slowed his pace. He sniffed at the air, drawing it in to not only taste it but to fill his lungs as well. There were two others, a bronze and a brown, who came to chase her. He reached out as he jogged forward, searching, searching, testing. Like the one that they were to pursue, both held the scent of a human, though one had it only faintly. He scoffed. No bonded wher could win when a wild wher ran.
When she came into view, he quickened his pace again, lunging across the uneven ground that separated her from him. The bronze ran from the same direction as her; the brown would have to be somewhere about. He hissed his distaste, but quickly turned it into a lullaby of a croon as he approached the green, showing his adoration and trying to lull her. There was still space between them and he was coming in almost parallel to the way that she was running. He quickened his pace slightly more, coming at her at an angle. If he just pushed himself, he could get himself ahead of the others or at least close simply because he'd manage to get there quick. He would not let a filthy brown or bronze win.
There was no green like this one this one among his sisters and those in his group. She was an extremely small creature, this one, so lightly built though strong enough, as was befitting of any wher. She was delicate and quick, something that was a joy to chase and something that was to be cherished. Though her hide was green, which was sensible as she was green, and plainly green in all of its greenness, there was an ever so slight touch of yellow to it that brightened it up and caused to be more light than most. It made her special and it made her beautiful. In the falling darkness of the night, she glowed. His eyes, sharp in the growing night now, never left her, utterly intent on her and not looking at anything else.
It was his other senses that focused on his adversaries. A chase brought out the hunter instinct that whers had in the blue. They were more feral than any dragon and even any firelizard, weren't they? They were predators, designed to take down any threat or piece of prey that they had to, weren't they? But he was better than just being that animal. A wher was not an animal. It was not some oversized feline, or vicious canine. So he contained the urge to hiss and growl, to attack his opponents outright, and, instead, produced another sweet, gurgled croon for the green. He was more of a gentleman than any of those filthy browns or bronzes now, wasn't he? She was a fool if she choose one of them!
Like a moth into a flame,
I just could not look away,
There's nothing else for me to do.
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Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on Sept 10, 2009 22:32:09 GMT -5
Whisk paused for a moment, standing perfectly still, letting her eyelids slowly drift down her eyes. She would hear her suitors before she saw them. And she would have many! Surely a wher as fine as her would attract no less than the finest whers on this continent! There was a faint moon out, and it and the stars were enough to give her radiant hide the smallest sparkle. She was more beautiful than the stars tonight, that was for sure!
One bugle, soft and weak-sounding. No, no, that would not do! That could not have come from a wher amounting to anything! It was probably some diminuitive grey! However, she was most pleased when her first suitor tried again in a significantly stronger voice. There! That was worthy of her! She caught sight of him- a Bronze! Whisk crooned her approval, but before she saw how old and tired he appeared. She didn't know what to think about that... but he would have to Catch her to win her!
A second call, and a third, belonging to a Brown and a Blue! The Brown came from her Weyr; she recognized his scent. The Blue, however, had to be wild. He crooned to her, softly, enticingly. She crooned in return, to all three. She arched her back like a feline, showing off, still unmoving, letting the three come dangerously close to her. She was not afraid of a premature Catch-- she was much too swift for that! She was smaller by all three by a good amount, but she trusted her speed. The second she decided to run, she'd surely have put these suitors far behind her. None were worthy of such a beautiful wher as herself! But, she would soon have to decide which came close enough.
Whisk preened again, making sure that they ALL saw how lovely she was. Then, she wheeled around faster than seemed possible and sprinted off, towards the forest. The Green lowered herself to the ground as she ran, her belly brushing the tall grasses. They were not a hindrance; they only served as a foothold for the wher. Her young, strong claws dug into the sod, pushing her faster and faster. No wher could match her! Whisk's breath came easily, the cool summer night air filling her lungs and energizing her.
She ran towards a clump of trees. She slacked her speed slightly, deciding what to do. As she passed the first tree, she suddenly changed her course, making a hard left around the tree, nearly making a full half turn and doubling back, but not quite. She knew she had far outstripped those other whers- she didn't want to simply run headlong into their claws! She bent her body lithely around the tree, arching gracefully, her speed never slacking. After she had made her turn around the tree, she came to a complete standstill again, looking back to check up on the suitors. Could any of them prove themselves? |
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Post by jack on Sept 10, 2009 23:30:48 GMT -5
Such a beautiful creature. Such pure perfection, poured like a symphony of emeralds upon such a young, sculpted body. The wher found himself take aback as she began to move, pride not for himself, but for being in her prescence bringing him to lift his head higher, shoulders thrust back and tail lifted from the ground. Strutting forth like a King's right-hand-man he followed her, pausing to allow her to get into a run before arching himself back and pursuing.
A Brown approached, and like a respectful gent he moved slightly to the side, giving her a clear option between them. The Brown was young and handsome, strong and fit. But the Bronze, filled with the glory of the creature before him, practically began to gleam. His blind eye flashed with color, his live one shining brightly. The beast's throat vibrated with a challenging roar, the tilt to his head and the powerful leap--moving a stride further from the Brown and closer to the Green--a clear statement.
I am Honorable, I will let you Run...but I am King still.
I am King...King for a few moments more.
As though the very words rang in his skull he stretched out his limbs, scales shining with his inner pride, the scars and image of age a shadow before the life that bloomed in his voice and his movements. It would undoubtably be his last run...he would make good use of it.
The Blue arrived, attempting to cross before him, but Meiusk would tolerate no such nonsense. He barreled forwards, breathing heavy already. But he would drop dead before he paused, and no Blue would get in his way. A barked threat sounded loud in his chest as he blocked the Blue's path, drawing closer still to the gem before him. His eyes flashed--he would spare the Blue only one look--as he stared, but his attention was forwards again, eyes bright and proud as he looked upon the Green.
A Queen! She was a Queen of Greens--such a beauty that none could possibly surpass her. He would never try--never try to tame that which was royalty before his eyes. He was King though. He would always be King--but a King who came forth to the Queen, a Knight at her side who would always bow before her. He was nobility, beauty and grace built from the ground up--she would never forget a soul as perfect as his. If only she could look beyond the tarnish on his outside.
I will Dance for you...I will Stand for you...I will Die......but only for You.
The Green slowed, but Meiusk did not surge forwards, years upon years of Runs shifting through his mind. A flicker of pride gleamed in his eyes, the flexibility and beauty in the Green's moves making him croon his praise of her perfection. But while the strange move would perhaps stop the others, it would be a mere pause for him.
While he was not as fit as before, he could see the move in his mindseye, and knew that while few muscles remained, his weight these days was scant enough..he should be still able to. He approached the trees with a lift of his head, leaping into the air a moment before passing the one she'd weaved around. His wings snapped open as he arched backwards, his foreclaws missing the wood but his back kicking out against the tree, sending him into a graceful move along his predicted curve.
He landed with a stumble, grunting subtly at the strain on his old bones, but brushed it off, righting himself quickly before turning his attention again to Whisk. His eyes flashed with lust and pride, a subtle warning glinting.
Slow not for Me, I will Surpass. You are Queen, I am King. I will Pursue...I will Pursue...and I will Win.
And then he was charging forwards, towards her. He dared not go max speed, the unpredictability of the wher before him making his heart flutter with eager anticipation. What trick would she employ? What devious move? How could he show her how he could dance? How could he show her his wits matched hers? He was King...King for her Queen.
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Post by Admin on Sept 19, 2009 3:04:37 GMT -5
I will never let you fall,
I'll stand up with you forever,
I'll be there for you through it all,
Even if saving you sends me to heaven.
The blue hissed back at the bronze's threat. How dare those two arrogant pricks think to brush in front of him and work together! He worked and tried and lived more than either of those egotistical creatures. The green in all of her loveliness and grandeur was blocked from his view except for flashes. The other two males were larger than he, though he held his own to the brown. However, his strides never faltered, and he chased with the others, only steps behind them as they drew close only to be left behind by her quickness. She had crooned to him. He had heard! She liked him. She must like him! He would not stay as second best!
Always just behind, but always following though he hated it, he loped in pursuit of the beauty that was so elusive. He could just see her, between the dirt-colored brutes, running ahead of them, low to the ground. He ran with long strides, in a rolling motion, easily keeping up with all of them. The forest was his. Every step he took was familiar; the ground he stepped on was comfortable beneath his gnarled feet. As she ran simply to run for that time, he ran to pursue her. He would catch her. He would bide his time, in the dark, and then he would catch her.
When the tree was added to the equation, the blue ignored the tree. His steps slowed. He let the others run forward, eying the copse that lay in front of him. He sniffed the air. He immediately knew where he was. It would be better to take the left side, and the slope over there. He couldn't stay with the pack, not when he was always in the back. Of course, if she was going to be tricky, and he was going to be conveniently able to get to her faster, that would work too. He back stepped, and whirled as he saw her round the trees not far from him. He dug his claws into terrain as he set himself to gain momentum again.
But then that stupid bronze did some flashy move. He could see the words that the ancient worm thought in the bronze's body and expressions and eyes. It was awful. It was terrible. He would not stand for it! All that filthy King's ideas! Caring nothing for his own safety, he surged into the air. He could not fly; he floundered in the air. However, he managed to drag his body to thud into the ground near Whisk, placing himself between her and the bronze. His eyes looked to her for a moment, reveling in just how amazing she was. Then he looked to Meiusk with bloody intentions. None would pass!
Then, for her, may die.
The projected words were awkward thoughts to him. Vague images and memories from those in his group that had escaped being bonded but had been clutched with some who hadn't. The tattered creature who thought he was so much better than the admirable blue had been bonded. He knew such things. He acted as if they made him better. That wasn't true. The beryl colored creature knew of such things. He was young by their standards, but old by his, and it made him feel dirty to use them either way. He expressed his threat more easily with a growl.
The beauty could do whatever she wished to him. She could scar him silly for standing in a way that blocked the world from seeing her brilliance. He hoped, in a most sulky way, that she would pick him and help him drive away the others, but he would not just stand down and let the others act like they could just take her. He would gladly die killing those insects who knew nothing of what being a wher meant. The bronze had mentioned he would die for the green. It was not uncommon for wilds, when the males got to squabbling. The blue had thought this run might be more civilized, but he would do what was necessary. He would not allow the bronze to dishonor the green with his last, vain hope for old glory. He would not let the brown win, because he did not like browns.
Please don't throw that away,
Cause I'm here for you,
Please don't walk away and,
Please tell me you'll stay, stay.
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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 21, 2009 16:39:45 GMT -5
She was waiting for them.
There was one who had already beaten him there and watched her from afar- an ancient Bronze. He seemed to be on his very last limb, but somehow was up and tensed for the chase. This wild stranger sensed Nadysk as he stepped out of the falling night and also approached Whisk, even stepped aside for him. Noble, for a competitor, but such actions would only merit the old-timer respect, not mercy in the chase.
Nadysk stepped up beside him and joined the stand-off. He regarded her, she regarded them. How was it that each Wher on her run was the most royal of Queens and most beautiful of all living creatures? So Whisk was, and so he communicated it to her silently and with his eyes. This was not yet the time for him to speak.
Almost as if on cue, another Wher crept up to join the staring match. The third contestant was a Blue, and though Nadysk was not predisposed to dislike him, or feel anything towards him, really, the hate that he felt rolling off the Blue for him in sickening waves was enough. Nadysk let out a low growl just as Whisk took off. Her audience had gathered, now it was time for the Show.
As the underbrush whipped Nadysk's indifferent hide, he had the vague appreciation for spending so much time wandering in the continent- it had made him impervious to its stings. He was not immune, however, to tree trunks. The Green beauty was swifter than all of them was quickly leaving them in the dust. He saw her disappear around a tree and then the Bronze by his side surged forward and leapt after her around it. Nadysk wasted no such time with leaping and barreled forward without slowing. Skidding and clawing madly at the ground to keep upright, he crashed into the side of the tree as he passed, smashing off a hunk of wood and clipping his shoulder.
From where His stood on a high vantage point near where they had been sleeping, she felt this pain. Surveying the wilderness with keen eyes and listening to the distant calls, Nadya suddenly felt a dull throbbing pain in her shoulder. Holding it gingerly with her other arm she grimaced, though it was one of concern and not pain.
Nadysk faltered with a limp for only a few steps and was again charging ahead. The hateful Blue's stream of consciousness and frantic chase was obnoxious, and he did his best to leave it behind. He could not ignore him, however, for he leapt hap-hazardly ahead and landed in the lead, close to the prize and ahead of the old King. Whisk had paused to let them all catch up, and was now dangerously close to her pursuers. Nadysk did not pause to ponder this, though: he knew she would not be caught yet. From her he sensed only the strongest will.
He had sometimes heard His repeat the silly words "slow and steady win the race", but neither she nor he adhered to such self-restraint. It was in some way applicable, though. The Blue and the Bronze leapt fancily in their chase, but Nadysk was steady. Swift and steady. An unstoppable force, he pushed forward. He did not pause when she paused, and continued regardless of the other two, touching her and romancing her with his mind.
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Post by 4horseshowgirl4 on Sept 26, 2009 17:04:18 GMT -5
Whisk stood still as a statue, straight and strong like the Queen she was tonight, thin nostrils flared with excitement and exertion. Her desire nearly overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to stay where she was, so she could watch those that tried to win her! Her speed had overwhelmed them all. Even now, she knew that she could turn and flee, evade her suitors, no matter how close they got to her. Still, after her short and total exertion, she did not exude the same pure energy that she had earlier. Stamina was no Green's forte, and she was getting tired. She would have to choose soon. Soon, but not now.
The Bronze arrived at the trees first, not far behind her. Her cunning eyes watched every muscle in his haggard old body, looking for the smallest sign of weakness. No big, clumsy King could possibly dart around the tree with any sort of agility, she would enjoy watching him fail, his feet flailing as he would try to navigate the sharp turn. He was a King, yes, but he was ancient and decrepit; the two characteristics cancelled themselves out, and he had no advantage in Whisk's eyes over the Blue or the Brown.
Her head lifted, eyes whirling with shock and awe as the Bronze used his bulk and strength intelligently, using the tree as a springboard to turn himself around in a most impressive way. Whisk crooned her approval. So the big lug did have brains! She turned her attention back to the Blue and Brown, keeping a wary eye on the Bronze-- he could not come too close before the others had had their chance to prove their merit!
The Blue, with his light build and swiftness, launched himself into the air, landing ahead of the Bronze in a show of sheer athleticness, but when he touched back to the ground, he turned not to chase after Whisk, but to fight off her other suitors! Whisk was absolutely furious. This dunghead did not get to decide who she chose-- he had no right to prevent the others from having their fair chance! She shrieked in anger, her shrill call piercing the air, letting all of Pern know of her displeasure.
With that, she launched herself at the Blue, the purple in her eyes marred with a furious orange. She aimed at his back, claws trying to rip down the pretty blue hide between his wings and down his sides. Before the Blue could have time to grab her and emerge as the victorious Captor, she dashed off to Meiusk, crooning to him once again and turning back towards the Blue and Nadysk, that clumsy Brown, prepared to fight them off before mating with Her winner- Her King, Her strong, wise wher.
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Post by jack on Sept 27, 2009 1:13:31 GMT -5
Closer, closer still. Meiusk slowed himself further, his eyes gleaming with adoration as he looked upon her, refusing to do as a young wher would...and launch at any chance to grab her. Settling to a smooth trot he lifted his head slightly, chest swelling at the sound of her croon--her approval! His eyes whirled faster and he resisted the urge to charge to her, to assure her that it was but one of his many good traits! But before he even had to keep himself from her side, his pathway was interrupted.
The Blue, that over-confident creature, was standing before him. His eyes whirled with impatience, wings tucking back slightly as he came to a stop, breathing heavy and strong before the foe. Images of the wilderness, the rough ways and battles flowed into his mind...the memories used as words causing no twitch in his fleshy head.
From him flooded a tidal wave of memories of his own, of a broad-shouldered man covered in blood...of a broad grin and the feel of a firm hand on his shoulders...of encouraging words and a warm body to curl around during the day. Of banquets and music...and long nights exploring the dens of dragons as a hatchling, with a wide-eyed child clinging to his wing tips. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation or disbelief at the challenging Blue...nothing but simple experience.
Meiusk...had seen three of the Blue's years. Had been flanked by dragons while escorting his Mine. Had carried the bleeding body of His through miles of tunnels. Had sat at the side of His with the regal visage unmatched by those massive sky-fliers! He had felt the ground rough against his claws through more death-defying Runs than the Blue had even bee privy to...and yet this creature dared to challenge his right to chase?
He flexed his claws and twitched his warped tail, staring with eerie steadiness at the other wher. His eye flashed with a very faint shade of orange flanked with violet, the strange swirl reflected as a pastel in his dead eye. He spoke no challenge. He did not open his maw to roar, or let the air scream with his hiss. He waited--ready.
But then that gorgeous Green spoke up and his attention--which had never truly drifted from her--was on her visage one-hundred percent, his expression unsurprised, but pleased with her attack. The Blue was foolish...standing before a Queen such as this and her suitors. Was foolish to turn his back on her, ignoring her very existence!
He took a few careful steps forwards, bobbing his head subtly, not to encourage or discourage, but almost as though he were reminding her of the whers around her. But the statement was needless, as she was bounding his way, and his heart leaped to his jaws as she crooned to him. He crooned back, a rough gravelly sound, and let himself move powerfully forwards, standing proudly at her side even as he directed his dying stare at the Blue.
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