Admin
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brect[M:-2154]
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Post by Admin on Jun 21, 2010 14:20:18 GMT -5
It found me to hold me,
But I don't like it at all,
Won't feed it,
Won't grow it.
Kalith rose in the middle of the morning, rose quite literally. She rose with pride and fury. She slithered from her couch, each step deliberate and each motion poised. Her wings were mantled about her, spread like a crown over her head and neck, the position awkward but easy enough for her. Lithe and powerful, she swaggered towards her ledge. She was hidden in the gloom of her weyr, protected from the rays of Rukbat. Then she stepped out into the open sunlight. Her hide sparked and glowed under the bright, hazy beams. She was living copper, pulsing with an inner strength and life. Lazily, licking her lips with her long tongue, she stretched, flexing her powerful limbs. The dark lines of scars danced across her chest and torso, but they hardly detracted from her beauty. She was no prissy gold. She was the warrior Queen of the west.
Tipping her head back, bored with her posturing, Kalith let out a raucous roar. Who would dare to chase her? Hadn't they all tried before and failed? She had only even had one victor. Perhaps this time she would change it up, but she was becoming an old hat at flights. She was no babe to the world anymore. Queen and conqueror, she roared again, crying her challenge to the rusty autumn sky. Power rippled through her body as she twisted and flexed her neck as the noise ripped through her body. Lust was quickly clouding her mind. It had been there all along, biting and searing since she had awoken. Her daughter had already risen and chosen her victor. Now it was her turn to show her how it was really done. Contempt and righteousness written across her sharp, draconic face, she launched herself towards the feeding grounds.
Fajra was struggling to her feet, yanking a shirt far too big for her over her head. She'd been sleeping for once. What a useless thing to be doing. Where was Osro? That was always the first question that came to mind. With O'sho. That was no solution, though her thoughts for the Weyrleader were full of fondness, finally untainted by fury and doubt. What were they going to do with Callistath? She was too gravid to even fly far. Hide her. Turn Kalith's attention to the sky. Even as she desperately tried to plan, she could feel herself being pulled away. The lust started to tingle in her limbs, raw and unadulterated. She strode out to the weyr's ledge on shaky legs, each step forceful as she tried to make her limbs obey her as they should. Their weyr. Hers and Kalith's except that the line between them started to become blurred. Weyrwoman. Queen.
"Blood it! Blood!" Fajra's cry rent the momentary silence that had overtaken the bowl. The distance between herself and the feeding pens was great, but she didn't have to see the shimmering form of her dragon to understand what was happening and know that the copper was falling upon her temporary prey with reckless abandon. She could feel the Queen trying to resist her, but the crazed dragon's will was nothing compared to her in that moment. Cold as ice, she forced Kalith to blood, even as she felt her own heart beginning to thunder in her chest. She had a million questions. A million words that would not reach her lips. What was going to become of this? Her copper's flight was never a minuscule event, another whimsical green flight. She finally had her peace and now it was shattering within her like a pane of chipped glass.
Kalith sank her teeth savagely into the neck of another hapless herdbeast, sucking the blood viciously from its veins. She wanted to eat and feast, but it was enough to drain them drive. It quenched her thirst, filling her belly with heat. Tossing her victim, the second of her kills, to the side, she tossed her head about wildly and screamed to the heights. She did not want to be caught. She did not want to be won. Where she was satisfied in life, she was not satisfied in flight. Rage turned to more rage and the militant Queen shimmered with the blood that filled her belly and stained her maw. The herdbeasts were stampeding about their corral. One skittering closer to her and she snapped her head around to face it. With a hiss of pleasure, the simple pleasure of it all, she fell upon the foolish creature and deftly snapped its neck.
The copper did not remain with her kill for long. Leaving the crushed carcass to rot amongst its fellow, Kalith lunged into the sky, a powerful bundle of muscle surging into the air with wings spread wide. She screamed again, the unearthly noise both a reminder of who she was and a challenge to all who would dare to try and catch her. Eyes, a bloody mix of violent violet and crimson red, fixed upon a point beyond the horizon, she drove her body upward with reckless fury. Quick and light for all her size, built of sheer muscle, she rose with speed and agility, twining herself with the winds that buffeted her over the Weyr's thin rim. Nothing could contain her. Nothing could hold her back. On that day, she was queen of everything. Of course, unlike some, she had always been queen of just that. The western sky. The western sea. All hers.
Fajra felt herself tugged into the air on wings that she didn't have. She was in the sky. There was no question of that in her own mind or even in her body. Her feet could feel the ground, but she knew that was barely real. Her vision blurred into insanity and the fury swept through her body. Skyward, homeward, the wind whipping through her hair. Unspoiled, unbroken, Pern whispered for her to return to its confines but she did not listen. Dragonrider brave and true, Weyrwoman never lost, she smiled a little smile to herself, closing her eyes against the vision in front of her that grated against what she saw in her mind. It was a confident smile, a smirk of a smile. Weyr's mother, Weyr's stickler, Weyr's a million things in one, and she was finally free! No dead people in the waters! No things to worry about at all! Just passion and raging dragon's lust!
The ripping sensation was still there, buried deep in her chest. Why did it have to be there? Every single time? Because she was not an emotional creature. Because she was tempered passion and fury and the rawness within her was too much to consider. Tipping her head back, Fajra shrieked her fury to the sky above in unison with her copper. It was a timeless cry, the mingled voices of a human and her other half. She was the copper Fajra, free and unbroken in those few moments, even though it hurt. The lust. The deceit. The endless knowledge that came from the pure simpleness that being a dragon was. Together, as one, they threw themselves into the hazy autumn sky. She doubted. Once again, she doubted, but the questions within her mind was incomplete. It did not matter. Who won was for the good of all the Weyr. It did not matter. But it did.
All I need is a bitter song,
To make me better,
Much better,
All I need to write is a bitter song.
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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 Jun 21, 2010 17:04:43 GMT -5
Daidoroth was the first soul, perhaps even before Fajra herself, to see Dalibor’s mightiest Queen rise. His Queen. The mammoth Bronze had been watching Kalith since her hide had begun to become, somehow, even more beautiful than usual. She glowed, putting Rubkat to shame, and caught the eye of all those who saw her. Not only did he watch her day in and day out because of what her brilliance meant, he watched her for her brilliance itself. Her beauty transfixed him and brought all of the Weyr under her spell. His mighty form ached to be with her wherever she lay, outshining everything around her, in a way that did not make him feel mighty. As she grew close to rising she required more room, and he gave her that physical space without incidence, removing himself from her ledge back to his before she banished him. His tireless vigil did not exhaust him, but made the anticipation ever more poignant and unbearable.
It was odd that while Daidoroth had transformed into a patiently-waiting gargoyle during this time, his old Rider had become more active. The King was happy, though, for his bonded seemed happier that he had been in many turns. O’sho had always been happy at Dalibor, the transfer doubtlessly being of his best-made decisions, but it was as though his existence had become just a little brighter. The change was subtle to those who didn’t know him, for the Weyrleader was a pleasant man, but Daido could feel it in his everyday person. Since Kalith’s had stormed into their weyr one night with determination (and left later quite ruffled in appearance) they had both been more upbeat. The mass feelings of hostility and confusion Daidoroth usually sensed from Fajra had seemed to melt away. He was happy for them, but only passively, for his attention was devoted to watching the Copper Queen.
Though it had seemed like the time would never come, it was clear when it came. Daidoroth leaned forward and watched with intensity as Kalith stirred. She was inside, not in the sun yet, but her movements were purposeful, strong, and decadent. Daidoroth knew the way she moved, had moved with her, and could tell this regal step from her others. His eyes whirred fast and swirled with lust and excitement as she stepped into the sun at last. The result was blinding: the richest copper like living flame. She was breathtaking. With each step she took Daidoroth repressed more and more the desire to leap into the sky and dive towards her. Step. His body flinch, but he remained. Step. His heart pounded.
As if her debut was not gift enough to the lowly creatures of Pern, she blessed them with the sound of her lovely, fighting song. An involuntary shiver wracked the Bronze’s body when she roared. It was full of everything he loved about her and bound them together: ferocity, strength, timelessness, passion. He stayed on his ledge only a few pounding heartbeats more to watch Kalith climb into the sky. He saw the muscles ripple under her skin, her strength despite her lithe, feminine form, and her claws flash dangerously in the sun. When she began to spill the blood of the beasts below he could stand it no more and launched himself into the sky with a thunderous roar. He was there as she blooded her kills, his wings slicing though the air silently as he flew around the Bowl. Adrenaline pumped throughout his body, making his silent, prowling flight of wait unbearable.
Daidoroth’s focus hit O’sho like a wall of stone. He froze where he was in the Weyrbowl with Osro and listened for the cries he knew would come. Moments later Kalith’s furious roar pierced the air, alarming the little red-headed boy that he held so dear. Osro looked up his Daddy questioningly; dropping whatever game they had been playing and moving closer to hold onto O’sho’s sleeve. Why was Mommy’s dragon screaming and why did Daddy look so strange. He tugged on the sleeve. O’sho gathered Osro up into his arms and headed with controlled urgency towards the lower caverns. ”Don’t worry, buddy, Daddy’s just going to take you to see one of the nice ladies,” he said absently, his focus above them. ”Try not to give them too much trouble.” Daidoroth’s definitive roar came then, pushing his Rider to walk faster. For an old dragon, the Bronze loved with the passion of a young champion. Daidoroth’s lust and love for Kalith was not the only thing that propelled O’sho forward, however. For the first time that he had been in a flight at Dalibor there was something very personal at stake for him. O’sho gave Osro to the first trustworthy person he saw and hurried to Fajra’s weyr. Though the distance seemed long he covered it quickly, pounding each stone as if the Red Star itself were behind him. Appearing on the scene, he stopped and beheld what was at stake: his weyrmate.
O’sho had not been able to use the word in any real meaning before. Hitherto a few nights ago “weyrmate” had meant to him and Fajra only that their dragons had mated and they worked at a team. The emotions between them had always been strong, but they had largely been negative. A moment of truth had helped them both more than anyone could have imagined. After living so long as a thing undefined, it was a strange but wonderful sensation. And he didn’t want to lose it.
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Post by kyrillion on Jun 23, 2010 13:06:29 GMT -5
Duareth was as acutely aware as any of Dalibor's males that Kalith would soon Rise. Her copper hide had taken on that enticing, lovely glow that always preceded such an event, and so he had happily resigned himself to patience. He had waited, and watched, and anticipated; and though he had made no effort to hide his intentions, that silly rider of his had not once picked up on them. Granted, it had been a trying several days; neither S'rial nor Duareth had been particularly close to Savrent and Shiobth, but they had worked together as Candidatemasters. Their deaths had shocked, and had certainly stung, and the mysterious circumstances had been more than a little bit unsettling. S'rial had been struggling to find something useful to do in response, or some appropriate way to react, but his search had as yet been fruitless. It was just as well, as far as Duareth was concerned. He only would have done anything he could think of to talk his brown out of chasing.
When at last a pleasant, sunny morning dawned for the rising queen, Duareth was ready. Kalith's challenging roar echoed throughout weyrbowl, abruptly rousing him from a peaceful doze, and he surged attentively to his feet. His eyes sought out the queen's dazzling red-and-orange form as she descended on the herdbeasts, and he watched with quiet exhilaration and clear appreciation as she began to blood her first kill. S'rial, ensconced happily in their weyr some distance away, felt his dragon's sudden alertness but didn't pay it much mind. He couldn't see the tell-tale purples that were slowly bleeding into Duareth's agitatedly whirling eyes. At length, his dragon decided it might be best to give His a little heads up, in light of how adamant he seemed in remaining ignorant.
Kalith rises, Mineown.
I'd noticed. His rider returned with obvious disinterest, and Duareth might have mocked him for his naiveté, except that most of his attention was fixed raptly on Dalibor's copper queen, and he wasn't about to transfer it elsewhere for anything.
Then why haven't you started up to the weyrwoman's weyr? It shall take you a little while to get there on foot, and you will very soon be distracted.[/color]
There was a beat of silence, and then a very strong sense of disapproval radiating from his rider that Duareth couldn't help but pick up on, though he hadn't expected anything less.
You're not chasing. He responded, a steely edge to his voice that Duareth knew he reserved for misbehaved Candidates. The dragon only snorted. As if it was his decision.
Of course I am.[/color] He responded evenly, and then for good measure: I am not one of your precious students you may boss around, Mineown. I want to chase - when she flies, so will I.[/color]
But you don't even stand a chance! A note of exasperation was creeping into S'rial's mindvoice; he wasn't up for this sort of distraction right now, and he was beyond caring that his brown had been a little offended by his last words. Shells, leave it to Duareth….
She is beautiful. She deserves as many chasers as this Weyr can give her. I may not catch her, but that is irrelevant...[/color]
Before the bickering could progress any further, Kalith launched herself into the air with a scream that had Duareth shivering all the way to his core. Dimly, he heard his rider railing against his decision – You stop this nonsense now, Duareth! – but it could have been anyone calling for all the consideration he gave the words. With a powerful bugle, full of admiration and determination, he flared his pastel wings and shot after her. He registered Daidoroth somewhere to his right, and he gave the bronze a wide berth; he respected the older dragon, and he was no fool. He knew very well who was going to win this Flight, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from giving his best. Kalith deserved nothing less.
As the trio breezed past the rim, Duareth let loose another roar, this one more exhilarated, more wild, as he relished the feel of the cool breeze coming off the ocean. The sky stretched on and on before them, an endless and uncluttered landscape for the three of them to dance. He was determined to enjoy himself, even if His was less-than-enthusiastic in his stumbling journey to Fajra's Weyr. Pumping his wings, he climbed doggedly after her; he was large for a brown, but she set a trying pace, and this Flight would no doubt test his endurance. His blood was hot, racing through his veins even as he raced after the copper beacon, the beautiful and unobtainable prize.
As flightlust surged through him, it ignited the competitive spark that Duareth so rarely had an opportunity to exploit, and both lent him strength and reinforced his iron determination. He savored the sensation of currents playing beneath his wings and buoying him up, faster; he followed the whims of the wind and rolled, dipped, and rollicked in Kalith's wake, her impossibly graceful red-orange silhouette like a magnet that tugged him beyond the limits of his own stamina and strength.
Back at Dalibor, so very far away now, S'rial belatedly staggered into Fajra's weyr; the weyrleaders were already there, of course, and the candidatemaster looked distinctly apologetic as he moved to stand near them. Duareth had made his decision, and he would stand by his dragon, but he certainly didn't feel as though he belonged there. He had no ambition to be weyrleader – and even with his attention wrapped up in the Flight, it was impossible not to notice the expressions on O'sho and Fajra's faces. They spoke volumes to the situation, and S'rial almost wanted to laugh – to everyone else, it was obvious that they had nothing to worry about, but he sympathized nevertheless. The stakes were certainly a lot higher for them than they were for him and Duareth.
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Admin
Administrator
brect[M:-2154]
Posts: 3,754
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Post by Admin on Jun 30, 2010 21:49:59 GMT -5
Put the game in the side,
What's there to hide,
Tell me that you need me,
Tell I'm a keeper.
Kalith rocketed straight up in the air, pushing her body farther and farther upwards with each stroke of her powerful wings. She was all muscle and sinew, smaller than a gold but bigger than all but the spare King. She was a Queen of a different class and it would be foolish to doubt that fact. She continued up, barely passing beyond the shoreline of the Weyr's island. She rose up above the bay's waters. Her flight was visible both from Crescent and Dalibor. Hide alive with light, she glittered like a star caught up in the daylight around her and the colored autumn sky. The air streamed against her wings as she twisted and twined her way yet higher into the air. She was going to give them all a show to remember. The scars on her belly were like streaks of darkness against her glowing hide. They were marks of honor to her, the warrior Queen.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kalith saw that she had two suitors. Just two? Fine by her. The others were wise to leave her be. She didn't question her own self worth on their account. Didn't they understand everything rested on her flight? She knew. She knew what she could do. She was Queen! Ruler! The Weyr was hers and would be until her dying breath! The first of her suitors was a bronze. Daidoroth. She had chosen him before. He was strong and big, but perhaps he would fail this time. It was possible. She would not be tied down. After all, she did have other options. Namely, one. Her second suitor was a brown, light in color. Duareth? Yes, the candidatemaster. He was fine strong fellow but a brown nonetheless. The underdog. Neither mattered yet anyway. Before anything else, they had to prove that they could keep up with her.
Wings straining, Kalith continued with her climb, eyes fixed on some distant goal far beyond any of them. She made no effort to test them. She threw in no tricks. What was the point of that? She had done them all before. It wasn't her job to show how amazing she was to them. It was their job to prove themselves to her. Anyway, she didn't want to fly far. She wanted to fly high, body pushed by blood and lust. The sky was all that she needed, the thinning air around her welcoming her home even as it tore at her desperate lungs. She didn't care. She wouldn't obey. Nothing mattered but her goal. She wanted to reach a new height, go higher than anyone else before. In the end, she had nothing to lose and nothing to prove. That was the best sort of quest. All they had to do was try to follow her. She wished them not a single drop of luck.
Fajra paced their weyr's ledge, anxious and perturbed. Her body wanted her to fly with Kalith, but her mind was preoccupied with the emotions and feeling. Though she had heard two sets of footsteps enter the space behind her, she did not turn to look at her two suitors. She knew who pursued her dragon and she did not wish to look. Anyway, her vision had long since blurred into a befuddling mass of colors and images that she didn't even try to sort through. Weyr. Sky. Ground. Sky. Lots and lots of sky and dim air. None of that mattered! What she cared about, the lust and passion pounding in her veins, was what was at stake. Her dragon would pick whoever was best for the Weyr. Even if they copper didn't know that herself, the Weyrwoman knew that to be true. She loved Daidoroth, but he also had to be the best to win her.
Kalith continued to climb. However, her body was growing tired, her wings exhausted. She refused to give into its demands at first. However, in the end, she stopped. It wasn't particularly nicely, how she halted, but that didn't matter. Hissing dangerously, she turned on her suitors, forcing the pair to scatter as she dove back at them in a wide arc, sailing through the thin air around them. She eyed them, head constantly moving. It seemed that they had turned out to be thoroughly worthy pair, inadequate, of course, but acceptable where it counted. She darted at Duareth, then Daidoroth, wings flared, hissing and snarling, doubting their bravery, rebelling against the idea of choosing. She could choose neither or either! Whoever she wished! Snarling, she swung higher in the sky again, delaying her choice for a few short moments, body pleading for rest.
However, in the end, the result was the same as it had always been. Everyone had known how it was going to turn out except for those that really mattered. With a feral shriek, Kalith whipped around and rammed into Daidoroth, claws scrambling to find his as she collided with him. She dragged him from the sky, locking her body with his, making her choice abundantly clear. The only question that she left was why it was necessary for her to be so forceful. That was easy enough to answer. She was Queen. She got to behave however she want. That was why she loved the one that she had chosen. He understood her fickleness, gave her space when she needed it. She could remember him. Even in her flight, she remembered him. My victor. My Daidoroth; she hissed to him as she fell from the sky, her wings and claws locked with his.
Hissing with glee, Fajra rammed into O'sho, mimicking her dragon perfectly. For once, their feelings matched. They mirrored each other. She was happy, ridiculously happy, though she'd never be able to admit it, the dragonlust overwhelming everything else as she grabbed at his shoulders. Her lips sought out his and she fiercely kissed him. Her legs wrapped around him as she clung to him possessively, refusing to let go of him. She had forgotten that S'rial was there. In truth, he had never had a chance. Not with her, not with a brown, not that time around. Laughing under her breath for no reason at all, not even aware that she was doing so, she continued to kiss O'sho with gusto, fingers scrambling at his clothes. It was all going to be a blur in the morning, but it was going to be a blur that she like. Her weyrmate. Hers. Only hers.
Tell me something I don't know,
Think before you say it,
Say it if you mean it,
Mean it because it doesn't show.
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