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Post by kia on Mar 6, 2010 3:19:28 GMT -5
The sun had just set over the horizons and the sounds of night`s peaceful call echoed through the Weyr. The Weyr was being blanketed in with the seclusion of night, making shadows darker than black and stones walls a darker gray color. The sky was a gorgeous midnight blue color, and the stars appeared to of varying colors of white, yellow, and occasionally orange. The only dragon that seemed to be awake was the Watchdragon, but even this creature was falling into the claws of sleep. Risk snorted at the dragon from where she and Ridan slept by day and called home, thinking that Watchdragons at night were not needed. A Wher was just as good as a dragon, if not better, and could sound the alarm if they so desired. Especially Risk. She was like Kalith, so she believed herself to be. Kalith was the Weyr Queen by day, and Risk was the Weyr Queen by night. Risk did not mind the idea of sharing with the Queen dragons. Risk was, after all, very loyal to Dalibor, so of course she would set the alarm off if there was danger present. But, today, the only possible danger would be her.
She lifted her head and looked at her Handler, her eyes hinting purple at the lust that was building up within her. But Ridan was not paying attention. He was working on some scrolls. Risk had screened his mind to find out what they were. It turned out to be Wherling lessons. Ridan had known she was going to Run soon and had been hard at work working on lessons. She also knew he planned on calling all the Wherlings sometime to meet her and get use to her while she could get use to them. She could have snorted at that idea too! She would not give her children to anyone that she did not deem worthy. She rumbled lowly, getting her Handler`s attention. He looked up and could feel the beginning stages of Risk`s lust rising within him. So it was starting now. His beautiful Risk was Running now! Mine, I hungry, she quickly said, getting up to walk down to the pens where the animals were kept. She did not have to say anything more. He would understand what she meant by her hunger. After all, his face did say that he knew what was going on. He quickly got up and shouted down the alleys as loud as her could, "Siraune! Chain Siraunesk up! Risk is Running and we do not need a fight with another Wher Running!" He had warned the woman. Hopefully she would hear him.
The Gold reached the pens, but she cared little for fences. Exerting power in her muscles in her legs and flapping her small, stubby wings to gain some momentum, she jumped the fence. The last time she had exerted this much energy was when she had tried to protect her Handler from that Dragonrider that night in Western Continent. Thanks to that, all the dragons and Whers knew of her strength and capable prowess. She could have chuckled at that thought, though. She was a powerful Wher and would not let anyone else tell her otherwise. She immediately chose a creature to her liking and ran after it, catching it be surprise with the speed she possessed and the power behind her tackle. She went for the throat, hearing Ridan scream in her head to blood. She was no dragon! She was a Wher! A Gold one at that! But, none of the less, she blooded the stupid creature. And she went after another one. Unlike a Queen dragon that may need several blood kills, she needed only two creatures to blood to fuel her mating lust.
She jumped over the fence again and head towards the outer edges of the Weyr, into the mountains and whatever forests there were. She bugled and roar, sending her challenge to every male who thought they were worthy to chase her. She would Run, strong and swiftly, and only the strongest would be able to overcome her and produce a Clutch with her. She would challenge them in their ability to follow her, their strength and speed, their ability to outlast her, and maybe even trick her into a mating pose. But she would not be fooled easily. This was not her first Run as a Queen. She had previous Runs before and knew how to dodge and escape her pursuers. Where was Mask? Where was Husk? Where were any worthy male. Siraunesk better stay back in her room or suffer this Queen`s wrath! She would not share her running territory right now. All the males belonged to her. They answered to her, a true Queen. But, once Risk had Run and Clutched, her eggs Hatching, she would be back to normal and appreciate the Red`s appearance around the Weyr. |
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Post by Reky on Mar 6, 2010 16:51:07 GMT -5
His world of night had came. Yes, his world. The dark blue, the dots of stars, the cold that followed... In his solitude, it was his and his alone. The massive iron wher stared appreciatively out at the sky, relaxed. In the starlight, he appeared more blue than his usual dark, greenish-gray, and his puckered scars of living life in the wild melded in with it. He prowled his world of night, his mountains, silent and dangerous and strong. Then, he heard her. A Queen. His Queen.
He called back to her, loud and clear and confident. Ssk would pursue her. Ssk would win. Ssk, for that was what he called himself, lacking in a human but still, he decided, important enough for a proper name, loved her for all she was already, even though he could not see her. She even sounded beautiful. Beautiful and strong. A Queen. His Queen. Then, there she was, a flash a gold past his line of sight, and Ssk's strong legs went to work, running after her.
He cried out to her again, a guttural, lusty sound, and sent to her, Queen! He wasn't one for words. His vocabulary as a wher was limited. His vocabulary as a wild wher, away from the human tongue, was even more limited, but he knew what she was. His Queen. Even if his grasp of language was poor, he was not stupid. No, he was an Iron! He was intelligent, strong, and worthy. Yes. He would not give up on her. No matter who came to chase her, he would fight against them all to win her. The beauty of her golden hide was enough for him to fight for. More than enough.
So Ssk ran. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Admin on Mar 12, 2010 3:00:31 GMT -5
My girl will marvel at my strength,
Adore my battle scars,
I couldn't care less what she'll wear,
Or what she looks like.
Night woke the beast, as night had woken the beast many times before. Perhaps his name was Beask, for he was a beast, but, in all truth, he was no more a beast than any of this kind. Unlike the others present for the event, he didn't have the slightest name. Wild and free, that was him. The wher was strong and fierce, just like all of his species. That was what made them beautiful. That was what made her the most beautiful, because she was strongest and fiercest. He could sense her, out through the dark that was descending all around them. He had been moving for several days, all in the dead of night, before that day, drifting and traveling. He often did that. While not minding staying in a pack, he tended to be flighty, fixed for a moment and then suddenly free again. However, she had definitely fixed his attention. He had pushed to reach her.
Soon, she would be away from the Weyr. He knew that. The Weyr was too confining. She couldn't run there. However, the Weyr was at such a difficult place. However, it wasn't an impossible place to reach. He was strong and capable. A wher could go anywhere they wanted to go, as long as it wasn't high in the sky. Of course, who would want to go there? He just wanted to get to the Queen, the bonded but beautiful gold. Strong legs propelled him as he jogged forward, not moving with any great speed. Muscles rolled under his metallic brown-green hide, but he didn't appear to be straining himself. A bronze, he was a proper King to run a gold. Yes, his sire was an iron, but he only distantly remembered that hulk. He had long ago left that pack. All he knew as he made to catch the Queen who was awaking for her run was the strong confidence within him.
Into the night, she called. Tipping his head back, he answered her. A slippery 'kkkEkkkEkkkk' rolled from his mouth, expanding into the air until it boomed loud enough to cross what space was between them. Perhaps he was Ksk, for that was the sound that he most often made, though it wasn't a strong connection. Just Ksk. That was him, at the most. She past from the Weyr, and she was closer to him. Her golden hide blazed, catching the attention of his light sensitive if rather blind eyes. He paused for a second, head turning to follow her motions. Graceful as any runner, stronger than all but the greater Queen dragons, a catch far harder and worthier than any piece of prey he had ever pursued for food. He knew little of these things, but he could see it in her form. She was wher. She was Queen. Hardly Ksk in that moment, he was simply her chaser.
Ksk ignored the iron who was already flinging himself into chase her. Why should he care? He could catch her. He had confidence in that. A Queen was a rarity to chase, worthy of every effort. While energetic, he wasn't young. Thin scars traced his metallic hide, just barely visible in the night. His confidence had some merit. Surging forward, he charged after her, claws digging up the ground underneath him as his muscled coiled and unleashed, launching him forward. Each step producing a pounding thud as his feet collided with packed patches in quick succession. His body, thick and wired with muscled, moved in a rolling fashion. He kept his short, half useless wings kept close to his body. Entirely intent upon her, he let out another cry, singing out a wild song of 'kkkEkkkEkkkk' into the night. She wouldn't lose him, not through furze, fire, or flame.
So, like Ssk, Ksk ran, to take a risk, to catch a Queen.
How about a girl who's got a brain,
Who always speaks her mind?
Wish that I had,
A girl worth fighting for.
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Post by jack on Mar 14, 2010 1:43:59 GMT -5
Silent. It had been silent in the room all day as the duo had slept, and even now when the moon was full and high in the sky, it was silent. Mataike was awake, his wild hair tugged back in a short tail at the nape of his neck, having grown long over the passing season. He’d been too busy to take the time to cut it, too overworked with various nonsense and too entranced by the renegades to take what used to be obsessively-maintained precautions to his appearance. With it longer, however, he looked more rugged, a fact that was made ever stronger by the five o’clock shadow over his jaw.
Worn fingers brushed over that shadow lazily, scratching the barely noticeable hairs absently as the man’s sturdy stare continued to go over the scrolls in his hands. One was a historical report. One a “wack job’s” report. Both were about the same matter, and continuously mentioned similar things…despite being from two completely different people. It was interesting, and would certainly be of assistance to him. Anything regarding Lord Holders was of interest to him.
Beyond Mataike’s absent scribbling, Mask lay sprawled out near the door. Lacking his usual regal continence, he seemed quite content to lay out like an exhausted canine, his head resting on one paw and the other’s spread out in various positions. His wings were folded tight against his back, and while he appeared to be napping at first glance, both eyes were open almost ridiculously wide.
He was listening.
A human yell from a man to a woman unheard by Mataike. An animalistic scream the human ignored. A second one that was quieter…quicker…and then the sound of heavy paws running. Running…Running! Without warning or explanation Mask was on his feet, his muscles stiff and his trim body held in perfect position as he tuned further in to the powerful, smooth strokes of feet. It was going fast and far…getting away! His eyes blared violet, and only then did Mataike glance over his shoulder, a quick moment of eye contact between long companions all that was needed.
The room was silent as Mask turned and bolted out the door, left open just for this purpose. It stayed silent for several long moments as Mataike let a smooth little smirk slide onto his lips. Calmly, he rose to his feet and arranged his papers more properly, rolling up the scrolls and putting them away one by one. Lust he was prepared for—he could control it without problem. He glanced to the door as he felt—deep in his chest—the impact of each and every one of Mask’s strong strides. He licked his lips…and dimmed the lone glow to an almost invisible level…and the room remained silent.
--
Far away from their quarters, Mask was not nearly as silent. Brutally, he literally stampeded over anything in his way, nearly taking out an entire herdbeast in one absent stride as he jumped a fence, barreled over the creature, and jumped the other fence. Left with a broken leg and two broken ribs, it was doubtful the creature wouldn’t get snapped up by morning, but what should Mask care? It was an ugly meal. He had something better on his menu tonight.
A roar split the night, and Mask changed his direction minutely, cutting a course through the trees as he let out one of his own. It was deep and loud, echoing like cannonfire in the night. He didn’t need to insult her with compliments—she knew exactly how beautiful and lithe she was. She knew how powerful, how striking and how marvelous, and was secure in her ability to take on any wher…and any dragon. He would not sing her praises as some worthless Bronze would cajole in the sky! He was a wher! He was Mask! He would prove himself the way She would approve of!
He let loose a second roar—shorter and more of a warning to anything that would impede his progress—and without warning leaped into view of the trio, powerhousing his way between them and closer to Her before settling into a comfortable distance and pace. Mask gave an almost gurgling bugle as a greeting, his eyes whirling as he—moving as fashionably and proud as he even walked in her presence—ran. His muscles flexed, filled with power and stamina he would use to rival his own. His hide, metallic and healthy, stretched like liquid bronze over his flesh, and he let his own bulk do the talking. His footsteps were purposefully made heavy, giving him the sound of being something much more massive than he really was, but they grew light when the time was right, making him able to dodge and dance after her!
Risk—Mask here for Risk!
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Post by kia on Mar 16, 2010 0:16:05 GMT -5
As Risk Ran her hardest, fastest, and farthest, her companion was guiding his legs down the lower caverns to another room. He could feel Risk`s lust in him starting to fill him, and while most of the time he could handle this lust like previously, there was something else that was drawing him out in the open, drawing him out to search. He had little interaction with other human beings, and being a WherHandler also cause that interaction to still be so little. Not to mention he was the Alpha Handler, the Sr. Handler, however you wanted to call it at the moment since his head was swimming with visions of plants and life zooming by so fast. He managed to reach his destination without falling over or having to use the walls to guide him. The light was out, but he could still see a little. He reach out a hand and touched the door. He took a step in. He saw the silhouette of the figure he had come searching for, desiring for. His heart was pounding again his chest as he seemed to grope his hand out for the figure. "Mataike," he whispered, hoping the man would understand what he wanted without further words. Mataike had seemed to understand some things when they had first met.
Risk ran through the forest, picking up the scents of trees, flora, fauna, and other Whers. And a couple of these Whers were not Whers of Dalibor. They were wild and free. If Ridan should ever pass on, she would either follow the man or return to the wild. She did not need a human to survive, but Ridan had been her human. She had protected him, been by him, been there for him that they felt one and the same. Who cared if in the past they had been ridiculed, her for Impressing a man, and him Impressing a Gold. For Whers, there was no gender preference. They chose who they wanted to be with. And she had refused to Impress that brat girl who deserved only a Black. And on the last day they were still at their old Weyr, that girl still had not Impressed, waiting for another Queen. But that other Queen was getting too old now and would possibly die out without another Gold Wher to take over. Risk snorted with laughter. That old Queen was a fool and that Queen`s Handler`s Hatchling was even more stupid.
She glanced behind her to see who was chasing her. The first was an Iron, and older Iron, but still strong and able to bear strong children. He had been waiting for her. They all had been waiting for her. They may be wild, but they obeyed a Queen. And quite right they should! She was not afraid of dragons and wild Whers were the least of her problems. The next was Bronze. He was younger than the Iron, in his youth, also able to sire strong children. Good! She would only accept the best. She would not take a second-rate Wher to sire her first Clutch at this Weyr. She need a strong and healthy Clutch. What if those Renegades rose up again against them? They had to be ready to defend the place at all cost. The next suitor was another Bronze, but this time she recognized Mask. She did not croon to him or anything to let him know he had been noticed. She was not a dragon! But, she was glad to see him Chasing her, even if he had been a bit late. But she could excuse it this once. He was here now and that was all that mattered to her at the moment.
Animals shrieked as she ran passed them, plants seemed to shudder at her tremendous legs, afraid they would be stepped on. She did not care about the other animals. If they got in her way, she would trod over them. Nothing would stop or slow her down until she was ready, except maybe one of the males trying to trick her into a trap. But she was smart, cunning, and wise. This was not her first Run. No, she was experienced. She weaved around the trees with surprising speed, jumping over bushes and showing off her amazing agility, power, and grace. Her eyes were like purple amethyst that shown in the moonlight. Her hide had reached its peak of brightness, illuminating the way for the males and guiding them to her like a beacon. She wanted them to chase her. she continued to zigzag through the trees, heading toward the rockier part of the place to truly test these males. Her feet hit the rocks, and, for a moment, she almost paused. It was a mere second that she slowed down, only to pick up speed once more as she climbed over the rocks. Let the males follow. She wanted to see their strength. |
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Post by Reky on Mar 17, 2010 21:40:33 GMT -5
There were others that joined the Run. Two bronzes, Ssk saw, but his attention for them was limited. He caught flashes of their hides in the corners of his eyes, heard them calling to Risk as well, but he would not waste energy on them. He knew he needed all his energy to chase his golden Queen, and putting anything into intimidating the other was pointless. They were nothing to him. They were competition, of course, but his method was to ignore them. They were nothing, they weren't there. There was only Risk. For her, he pushed himself, feet pounding the ground under his massive weight.
He heard the animals screaming, running, taking flight in terror. There was a swelling sense of... something, within him. It was something like pride, but not quite. Perhaps, it was a sense of being wild. That he could keep up with this beauty, in this mad dash that shook the ground... He felt wild. Wild, free, and capable. Completely, one-hundred percent capable. It wasn't a question of if he could catch his gorgeous, glowing Queen. He knew he could. It was a question of whether she would take him, or if she would take those flashes of bronze instead. There wasn't doubt in Ssk's mind, though. There wasn't room for that.
There was only room for Risk, and for the mechanical movements of running top speed.
She was faster than he, more agile. For something so large, she was very impressive, and that only made Ssk want her more. He was pushing himself hard as she wove through the trees, and jumped bushes, but he could take it. He hunted in the wild. He preyed upon food that was fast and quick, and he would chase it like this. He was older, the oldest of the three suitors, but he would not let that weigh him down. In fact, his seniority gave him his own advantages. He knew these trees. He knew the wild, better than that Weyr-bronze and the young wild bronze would. So when they came to the rocks, Ssk had no difficulty.
There was no surprise, no hesitation - the scarred, massive iron simply hurtled onwards, gaining on his Queen as she slowed for a split second. He continued on like a professional. He bent his legs more, lower to the ground, to absorb the shock and weird angles the rock subjected his feet to. Jarring his legs would do nothing good for him. All the while, Risk was his point of attention. Risk was all he had eyes for, all he had a mind for. The night was a wher's world. This wild, untamable, rocky night... that was Ssk's world. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Admin on Mar 20, 2010 20:36:05 GMT -5
Tranquil as a forest,
But on fire within,
Once you find your center,
You are sure to win.
Another joined Ksk and the iron, another bronze. However, the new bronze bore no similarities to him. The other bronze was bonded, like the Queen that they chased. That didn't matter. It wasn't the Queen's bonded that would make the choice. Only Risk could pick who would be the winner of her run. Anyway, the other bronze had been late. That fact amused part of Ksk greatly, in the most cynical, nasty way. The early bird caught the worm. Those who were late went hungry, starved, or died in the wild. Tsk, tsk, bad bronze! With most of his attention focused on running, feet and claws pounding the ground in a dull, thoughtless rhythm, he kept his cackling to himself and continued to keep his eyes fixed upon the golden Queen, the center of all their attentions and affections. He wouldn't lose sight of her in the ever growing dark.
In truth, he couldn't see her all that well. His eyesight leaned more towards being somewhat bad for a wher rather than somewhat good. She was a gleam in the dark, a splash of brilliant, living metal amongst the thick, boring figures of the trees she led them amongst in her chase. However, he could smell her. Just almost taste her on the cold, dark, winter night wind. Hear her. Sense her in the pounding of the ground, the thunder of their chase, the clashing that was her run. Anyway, the task of dodging and weaving through the woods wasn't too hard for him. In the back of his mind, he could faintly hear his muscles screaming. His breath came out in billows, pounding in his chest. Despite the protests of his body, all the adrenaline and hormones in his body kept him going without question. He refused to acknowledge any weakness.
The golden Queen led them onward and they came to new ground. Even the youth have some experience, and Ksk didn't hesitate. He hit the ground, the rocks, with his heels and all of his foot each time he came down. The ground gives back what one puts into it. Every time his feet found the rocks, he exploded back upwards, and he turned the energy forward, into more speed. The iron though he knew, didn't he? Foolish, aging King. Time for the idiot to lose his throne. Some friendly, or even not so friendly, competition never hurt anyone. With a feral shriek, his voice losing beauty, he strove to surpass both of the other chasers and get just a little closer to Risk. He would not be shaken! Perhaps he was just a confident, arrogant good for nothing child. However, he could win, if she picked him. Arrogance can come hand in hand with true skill.
We must be swift as the coursing river,
With all the force of a great typhoon,
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.
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Post by jack on Mar 25, 2010 13:51:32 GMT -5
His smirk broadened, that oh-so-sweet voice ringing in his head as he slid closer to the other, melding into the dark for a moment before reappearing at Ridan's side. "I'm here." He crooned, low and husky in his throat, as his hands sought the Goldhandler's form. He gently took the other's elbow first, pulling him insistently towards himself. Ridan may be the head, he may be the boss, but Mataike was in his element right here and now--he had the power.
Arms wrapped around the man's form, and the Bronzehandler's lips found Ridan's throat, nipping and kissing a hungry trail that wound its way up to the other's cheek. But then he withdrew for a moment, only to slide his fingers up the man's neck, one hand tangling in the other's hair as he leaned in to press his lips against Ridan's.
---
The massive Bronze paid no heed to the other chasers--neither of them were worth his time. The Iron was old. The Bronze was young. Mask was big and beautiful and in his prime! Risk too was big and beautiful, but Mask was certain that the shimmering creature would never surpass her own prime. She would move and dance and run as quickly and powerfully as ever forever. An icon in the sky--a star of gold that never aged.
Agilely, Mask flitted through the trees, following Risk's graceful zig-zag with short, controlled steps. He turned it more into a display than a challenge, showing proudly just how perfectly he could move. There was nowhere that Risk could go that Mask wouldn't follow, and he was proud to follow in her footsteps, proud to grunt and bugle and huff for her. Up to the rocks they went, and Mask was happily on her heel.
Rocks was something he was not especially experienced with. But Mask was far from weak and far from scared, and would not hesitate to take on anything. He slowed for the first few strides, taking his time to concentrate and figure out what he wanted to do. But then his claws dug into stone and he surged forwards, falling into a steady winding pace. His wings spread ever so slightly in pride at his victory, and he lifted his head further, his eyes glowing like violet beacons in the night.
The little Bronze had passed him and was going past the Iron. But Mask, moving much quicker now that he'd fallen into a pattern, wasn't about to let this go on. His pace increased, and he leaped up and onto a large stone, pushing off with his hindquarters to get a burst of speed he refused to let slow. With a grunting snarl, his lips curled back to show off his toothy maw, he moved back into line, refusing to let the little Bronze take the lead again. No, Risk deserved better than his lackluster hide!
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Post by kia on Mar 27, 2010 0:12:38 GMT -5
The climb up the rocky slope was pulling energy from her, her legs eventually starting to ached from the climb. She was not use to running up such a rocky slope at full speed, but she was actually impressed with the endurance that she held while running. She glanced back to see if the males were still behind her, following her, and seeing if any of the males had dropped out. No, none of them had. Which was good. She wanted the males to keep on chasing her. She was their Queen even if they were wilds. She looked up and saw the top of the slope getting closer. She would be at the top any moment and maybe then she would make her decisions. There was Ksk, the young Bronze, who thought himself the greatest. That was the arrogance of the young! And there was Ssk, an Iron of experience on his shoulders, but also past his prime. Indeed, even if Ssk won this Run, he would eventually be knocked off his crown by another Wher. Next was Mask, the Wher who already adored her since the moment he met her. But did he really adore her or was he simply trying to Impress her to gain rank?
She reached the top and stopped, looking down at the males that were coming after her. Ksk was in the lead, followed by Mask and Ssk. She hissed at them as she turned her eyes on one particular male. With a primal growl and roar, she charged at the male of her attentions: Ksk. But her eyes still whirled purple with hints of red around them. She had not chosen him. She had merely turned her rage on the young Bronze. Maybe another night when she Ran again he might win, but not tonight. This arrogant, little Bronze needed to be put in his place. The Bronze might have energy, but he needed knowledge to help him in the future. And this was his first lesson: To beware a Queen`s wrath. She charged at him, leaped up, and dug her claws into him. She roared as she pushed him away, her growls were warnings for him to get away from her.
She turned her attentions on her next male, but this time there were no growls of anger or warning. She rushed past the other male and straight toward the one she had her sights on this time. But her mannerism did not speak of agitation. It was more of an approach that said that she had picked her winner. Mask, she said to male of her choice, or her winner. She turned her head, growling lowly at the Iron. If he was smart, he would leave immediately and acknowledge defeat. If he attempted to stay and fight for Risk, she would fight him off with Mask. Her winner was chosen and she would not back down in her decision. With the purple lust in her eyes with the reds of warning, she stood her ground. She was a proud Queen, and no King was going to tell her what to do!
Ridan continued to look around in the dark, searching for that one person that he had sought for. Risk had chosen her winner, and Ridan was allowing himself to subcumb to the Queen`s lust for her winner. That lust, in return, made Ridan desire Mataike`s presence even more. And then he heard that cool, calm voice reach his ear. He let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Mataike was here. He felt the BronzeHandler take his elbow and lead him into the room, Ridan`s feet blindly moving forward. Ridan let out an audible sigh when Matiake`s lips reached his neck and made a path up to his cheek. Ridan leaned forward when the other man`s fingers entangled themselves in Ridan`s hair, pulling Ridan to himself. Ridan lips connected with Mataike`s, and at the same time hands began to wander. |
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Post by Admin on Mar 27, 2010 22:15:42 GMT -5
I can't sleep, I’ve been awake,
I just lay here trying
To deal with this pain,
Four walls and no you.
Ksk hardly learned his lesson as claws dug into his flesh for a brief moment. The pain hardly shook him, though he was stopped with it and had to let her go off to make her choice. He had lost, and he knew that, but the injuries on his tough hide did little to break him. He stumbled away from her push, her growl ringing in his ears. All of his body parts still worked. The pain was dull, another ache to his body as the lust wore off with the rejection and his muscles began to protest the strain they had received. He limped off, giving plenty of space to the Queen. In the future, he was doubtful to remember much better, but he knew enough to take his rejection with some dignity and sense. Stretching out his limbs, forcing them to work better, he quickened his pace, but he didn't truly hurry. He could hear the Queen's steps and she wasn't moving towards him.
Another time, Ksk would win, and he could handle the loss, his short memory quick to go into work. He needed food, and the journey back to the lands where he usually hunted would be long. Still, he easily took his mind off the loss, his rage mild. Such was the advantage of the young. Each movement revealed new aspects of his pain, but it still wasn't so bad. In his short life, he had experienced all of the aspects that he was feeling at one time or another. He would have new scars from the experience but none of the slash wounds were deep enough to truly have any lasting effect on his body that might cripple him. The ichor and the injuries would be a threat for his survival for the next few days, but not a big enough to make it likely that something would kill him. He was still in good enough shape kill a good wherry without much trouble.
At the edge of an outcropping of rocks, Ksk turned back. The Queen had chosen her winner. It wasn't the other wild, the iron, but the bonded bronze. Snorting in a disgusted manner, the young bronze turned away. It had been stacked from the start. Pitiful, pathetic Queen, stuck under the compliments and persuasions of her handler and the others that she had. The pride of the young bronze turned from confidence in himself to an arrogance towards being wild. Traces of the energy that the run had given him still remained within him. Tension rippled through his hurt body as ichor slipped over his bronze hide. However, he kept himself in check. Even he knew better than to try to fight the Queen and her choice, especially injured. With another snort, quieter than the first, more complacent, he moved away. Perhaps he had learned something.
The way that I lost you,
I’ve been trying,
To put the pieces of a,
Picture back together.
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Post by Reky on Mar 27, 2010 23:07:53 GMT -5
He had chased many females in his lifetime. Usually, they weren't bonded females. They were as wild as he was, untamed, and hated when the pampered human-bonded males chased them. They only respected those who had it as hard as them, only went for them, and as Risk passed him by and proclaimed the bonded Bronze her winner, Ssk had the heart to understand. It was disappointing, of course, but he bowed out politely. He could have won, but she had not taken him, and that was how it had to be. She was allowed to pick her own, spoiled bonded kind.
With a flash of iron hide, Ssk disappeared back into the night, leaving Risk with her winner. He still wasn't too old. He was still strong. Ssk would chase many more females before his time was up. One loss was nothing. And so, not a winner but not a sore loser, Ssk went back to the world of the night. His world. [/blockquote] |
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Post by jack on Apr 2, 2010 12:45:31 GMT -5
Claws raked into flesh, but it was not his. Mask slowed the moment he saw Risk slow, and came to a complete stop when she wheeled. His eyes glowed as she bounded down the hill, all snarls and growls and teeth. Should she turn on him, he would not hesitate to fight back, and to run. Unlike some of the others, Mask and His had the future on their minds--and being injured or possibly crippled wasn't anywhere in their plans.
Mataike too stiffened, their continuously connected minds alerting him of the danger. But his grip on the Gold handler increased rather than decreased, and he deepened the kiss hungrily. He hid his wariness keenly, but his eyes were as open as Mask's in the dark, and stayed that way until the Gold rushed past the Bronze king, and attacked the youngling. Immediately, Mataike relaxed with a smug little shift, and began to absently pull Ridan with him towards the bed. Perhaps he was overconfident, but he was certain now that he knew how this would end.
Risk's attention was back on the remaining whers, the foolish Bronzeling ambling off with clear irritation in his movements. Mask watched him absently from the corner of his eyes for a moment, but his main attention was on Risk. He stood tall and solid, unwilling to back down or flinch as she began to move again. Should she run, he was prepared, his body relaxed but ready to launch into motion. But should she not--as she didn't--he was equally ready to defend himself, or to defend her. Every possibility was covered...even if only one was needed.
His name rung cleanly in the air, and Mask's nostril's flared in pleasure at the sound. He arched his neck proudly, lifting up his back to make himself appear even more superior as he strode strongly to her side, walking around her entire form with the fluidity of a feline before turning fully and setting his glowing eyes on the Iron. So he wasn't wild. So he walked hand on hide with a human. Mataike was as wild and fierce as any wher--and Mask was completely confident that together they could do a thousand things more than any foolish wher that scrambled in the dirt for a meal.
He gave a warning snort, not wasting a growl on the wise old creature, and bobbed his head when the Iron shambled off. He waited, patient and powerful, until the wher was completely gone, and then all eyes were on Risk. He had won. He had Run, and he and His had one. He slid close, brushing himself against her in an almost bemused gesture. Risk had made a wise choice. Definitely.
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