Loveless Murder {Green Aimeth's Flight}

I've come, it's been fun but won't you please disappear,
Something tells me you can't further my career,
In my crown, I am king, I love their endless worshiping,
I am raw, a dinosaur, I will never be extinct.

Aimeth knew they followed, as much as she tried to block them from her mind. She heard them roar, challenging her and posturing as if that meant something, and she could smell them, smell their sickening scent. She tried to push them from her mind, an act of good faith that they would soon fail to keep up, but she knew they were there, alert as ever. She spared the lot of them perhaps one look, maybe not even quite that, but for the most part, she focused her efforts on flying as quickly from them as she could. However, her attempts to ignore them, show them some small bit of mercy, would be wasted in the end, because one of them dared to speak to her. She jerked her head to look at him, a snarl on her lips, but she continued in an upwards direction. She would not be tricked by him and his lies. He would never be worthy of her liking, because liking was too much like loving. Only Sonia deserved any adoration and Sonia was not there.

However, Aimeth was willing to forgive him at first. She needed to fly, so he wasn't worth the effort. He angered her, of course, but not enough to make her care. Then he went too far; her forgiveness and mercy lasted all of two seconds. She smelled ichor. It wasn't blood; she knew the difference. It was ichor and it was not released by her! That ungrateful little wrong-gendered giant of a cyan! He'd dared to injure one of her suitors! While she felt no sympathy for Lebeth, he was suddenly in a class far better than the one Harlequinth occupied. He was a suitor, not something she wanted but an evil she could easily justify as necessary when her anger lay elsewhere. Harlequinth was no suitor. He'd said he liked her! Like he was capable of love! Compassion! Faranth, didn't he see the irony? Little liar, worse than her! Justifiable murder. Not even loveless, merely justifiable.

Despite her fury at what he'd dared to do, Aimeth continued to fly for a moment, letting her body do what it desired to do. She eyed Harlequinth, sized him up, as he flew towards another blue, still acting as if he was the one in charge of this flight. Many would call her rash, but she knew that one had to wait to know when to strike. Then he spoke. The overgrown cyan spoke! Aimeth was beyond words and she hardly cared for his. Dear! She was not his dear! She was no one's dear! None would catch her; why didn't he see that? She was the fury. She was the judge and jury, not him, because she was greater than lust while he wallowed in it like a sordid canine. Teeth bared, she tucked her wings into her sides without warning and dropped. She went for his wings first. She tore at them. How did he propose to catch her if he couldn't fly? Witless fool! Ponderous idiot!

Not wanting to lose her advantage, Aimeth dug her claws into his back when she was done tearing out his membranes. She was the trained huntress, a soldier born and bred. No other was as good a killer as her. Thread or dragon, it did not matter. Harlequinth had earned her rage. One could justify it, saying she was doing it in the defense of another, but in reality, he'd simply pissed her off. It was her flight. She didn't like it, but it was hers. He would find no mercy from her. Claws ripping at his hide, she snapped at his neck, intent on stripping the flesh from his bones. She did not intend for him to live. It was not a warning on her part. She would make him bleed. Killing him would not stir anything in her core or her heart; it would never weigh upon her conscience. No matter how much he struggled, she would not let go. She would fall with him. Sadly for him, it was not in the way he had hoped. She took triumph in that fact.

Sonia had no place to put her attention but on the men and single woman in her weyr. She shifted her weight from side to side, hands folding and unfolding; she had no place to go. Looking at them only served to frustrate her, even though it was the only thing she found herself able to do. She felt nothing for them; she thought nothing about them. The play in the sky was of no interest; it merely made her arms ache. A'fel, a bluerider of no consequence, the rider of a blue she saw but also found of no consequence. L'am, a bronzerider that filled up many of her memories, but the emotions bled from them, it left only anger and lust. K'var, another bluerider, one she did not recall, not then, because Aimeth did not. Sarrasri. A girl. Better, but not nearly good enough. Still merely a blackrider, so insignificant. So unimportant. All of them were a whole lot of nothing.

Then there was K'leb, another bluerider. He had been the last to arrive and Sonia had not noticed him before, Harlequinth's brief presence in her weyr removed from her memory by the play that was unfolding in the air far above them. Then he met her eyes and she stared back at him. At first, there was nothing, her unfocused gaze seeing him but her mind not providing any sort of response. Then the rage washed over her, the sight of Harlequinth, of K'leb, one and the same, attacking Lebeth filled her mind. She wavered where she stood, eyes dropping to the ground. Some small part of her told her to try to keep Aimeth from doing what she was about to do. It told her that she should shout a warning at least, but she had no words. She did care, but she found that she cared for the wrong side. The rage was too much. She couldn't squash it. She couldn't twist it or bend it. The rage was justified. The rage was right.

When Aimeth struck, Sonia also moved. Part of her wanted to lash out at K'leb, but there was a more suitable option that presented itself to her. She was so willing to accept the ichor that would soon stain the sky because there was a reason for it. There was someone to protect. She twined her body around L'am, peeking out over his shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and lay across his collarbone; her fingers dug rather savagely into his chest. He was about the only thing keeping her from taking out every ounce of anger and frustration she had ever felt on K'leb, so she clung to him, guarding him like a possessive beast. She looked like an animal. Her eyes were fixed on K'leb and her teeth were bared in a snarl, mouth just inches from L'am's face, her breath harsh and heavy. She felt like an animal, guarding a man that could just as soon become the next thing she wanted to kill. No, not quite kill, not on her side, but close.

Aimeth was enjoying ripping into Harlequinth, but the others were near and it wouldn't do any good to crash into the ground with him, as much fun as it would be to hear his bones crack and break. She kicked off of him, threw out of her wings, and darted out of his reach. She would not to be had by him. If she had to live a life like this, any loser but him would do. However, she would not give into her lust and the supposed wonders of the flight so easily. She dipped to the side, then she began to climb once more, ignoring her other suitors. Her only suitors. She glanced back only to look at Harlequinth, checking on her handiwork; he would not be able to pursue her. It would be disappointing on her part if he lived, though she supposed, for the Weyr, it would be good. Of course, she didn't much care about the Weyr then. She just wanted to fly, so off she went again.

Cause all your heads are gonna roll,
I've made your misery my goal,
So if you want survival, kneel on my arrival,
For this is how I rule the world.

Show me sex appeal, get on your hands and knees,
Forget about the meal, it's best to keep me pleased,
Imagine, if you will, our meet on the block,
I've got time to kill, so how about a quick fuck?

Aimeth continued her flight, ignorant of those who pursued. She knew they were there; she even knew that one was lagging behind the others. However, it didn't matter. It mattered less than before, because she was beginning to slow as well, her body straining to continue an ascent it should have ended moments upon growing moments before that point. It hurt, though she liked the pain better than admitting that there was any other option. She wouldn't stop! Her body told her to fly, so she flew! Her wings ached; her back ached. Her health, training, youth, and ungodly determination were what kept her in the air. Light shone down through the membranes of her wings, the slight overcast growing thinner with her ascent as Rukbat set itself upon the horizon. She looked white, all but white except for where the blood and ichor coated her slender, straining body.

As she began to lag, her endurance gone, Aimeth focused on staying ahead of the males. They preoccupied more of her thoughts and less of her attention. She did not want them! She did not love them! However, she was barely maintaining her lead on Eondith and Argotath. She certainly wasn't prepared for an attack; she'd wasted energy removing Harlequinth and Tarvith from the chase, giving them precious scars they could use to remember her. When Argotath made his move, she saw him coming too late. She did see him, filling up the corner of her vision and blocking out any sign of Eondith. She turned with unusual slowness, wings no longer so willingly obeying her. However, still full of pride and anger, insulted by this gesture of his, she threw herself forward, intent on meeting him full force. She would kill him. Same as any, she could kill him, even if it killed her.

Aimeth's claws sunk into his flesh as his tail twined with hers and their wings entangled themselves in a violent collision. She dug her talons into his hide, tearing through it, drawing ichor without any thought to how it might hurt him or injure him. However, she was forced to admit, as gravity took effect on their bodies and dragged them down, the flight was over and Argotath was her victor. At least he had guts and enough good sense to actually use them. She kept her claws firmly lodged in his flesh as they fell, though she did not struggle against Argotath's hold. The lust overwhelmed her, not completely replacing the rage but engulfing it enough to soften her actions by the slightest of degrees. There was no love between them, but the needs of the body were fulfilled. Bloodily, of course, and savagely, as was only fitting of her unsympathetic nature, but the needs were satisfied at least. She'd reach an understanding with him.

Sonia was ignorant to her surroundings. She felt Aimeth straining and flagging; she was one with her dragon, her own will added to that of the striving, illogical beast that tore through the sky without any proper destination. Her mind only formed the barest of memories that she would be able to be recollect later. There was a twinge of sympathy for Lebeth and L'am, more than for Tarvith or Harlequinth in truth. He was still there, given the third presence in her room, duly noted in her muddled mind. He was still trying and probably in pain if her own physical state suggested anything. Her jaw clenched. Pain! She was better than pain! Any who would catch them had to be! Her vision and senses haywire, lust and want, still not yet placed, running rampant through her system, her thoughts follow no path and formed no concrete threads. She was slipping, slipping . . .

Sonia whirled and lunged at K'var, so conveniently located, as her dragon was caught. She wasn't sure if she was trying to kill him or jump his bones. The emotions and feelings of the situations were all mixed up in her head. By the time she rammed into him, however, her mind was rather made up. Her dragon had given into the lust and so had she, at least as much as she could with a great deal of unadulterated rage boiling in her meager human blood. There was a hiss on her lips as she collided with K'var, a tiny but volatile mass of brittle bone and wiry muscle, but it was silenced as she jammed her lips against his. It wasn't so much a kiss as an attack; there was no romance in the air. She tore at his clothes as she clung to him fiercely, shoving him towards the wall. Or furs. Or anywhere. There was no thought put into the process; it was simply going to get done.

In my crown, I am king, I love their endless worshiping,
I am raw, a dinosaur, I will never be extinct,
Don't mess with me, I'll shoot you down,
Don't mess with me 'cause all your heads are gonna roll.